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09 November 2010 @ 04:37 pm
Losing to Win (1/3)  
Title: Losing to Win 1/3
Summary: Arthur and Eames play a card game...

It was nearing midnight and Arthur was still fast at work when his cell buzzed in his pocket. Taking it out, he saw it was a multimedia message sent from Eames. The fact that it was from Eames should have tipped him off to just ignore the message, but Arthur couldn’t just let it go without knowing what the forger wanted him to have in the middle of the night. Upon opening the message however, Arthur saw that he should have left it alone.

He immediately sent a reply text to the forger, [You care to explain why you sent me a picture like that?]

[text msg] : Because I'd thought you'd like it, darling. You don't?

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose, tempted to cross the short hallway to the forger's room to pitch his phone at him, but decided not to because of what he might see. [I'm not sure what gave you the impression that I wanted a half-naked picture of you on my phone. Is this a new game to see how disturbed you can make me from a room away?]

[text msg]: I can feel the aura of your perturbed state all the way over here. It is great fun, I am so bored.

[I don't know why you would be bored, don't you have work to do?] Arthur replied, knowing that even if Eames did have work to do he’d still find time to bother him.

[text msg]: I did my work already. Now I'm just watching telly. There's nothing good on except Project Runway.

Arthur flipped his laptop closed, because unlike some people he did have work to do, but because of some people it was unlikely he was going to get to finish. He pushed his chair out and sent another message. [You do realize then that you're free to go where ever you like during your down time.]

[text msg]: I think I'd rather stay here. There's a jacuzzi in my room. But it's not as fun by myself.

What Arthur couldn’t see was the shit-eating grin on Eames’ face as he hit send from his own hotel room. He leaned pack and took a peak into the bathroom. Nope, still no jacuzzi in there.

Arthur raised his eyebrow, wondering how the hell Eames managed to get a room like that without him knowing it. Then, considering both the odds of Eames's ceaseless pestering until he was satisfied with his daily quota of annoying Arthur and how nice it would be to relax this late in the evening, he replied, [A jacuzzi? If you spent some time in it would you leave me be for the rest of the night?]

[text msg]: Only if I was not by myself. Have you ever been in one by yourself? Miserable, absolutely miserable.

Eames almost included, ‘unless you have the means to make it fun by yourself’, but deleted it at the last minute before sending it.

Arthur rolled his eyes. [Fine, start it up, I'll be over in 2 minutes.] He clicks his phone closed, and as he realized what he'd agreed to, he brought a hand to his face and groaned. Damn you, Eames he thought to himself as he grabbed his key, slipping out the door on his way to the forger's room.

Eames’ phone vibrated and he picked it up, flipped it open ,and read the reply Arthur sent. He had to shake his head and read it again, because he wasn’t sure it was real. Before he could reach for his chip, there was a sharp rap at the door, and he was up, crashing through the hotel room towards it. Hitting his shin on the table elicited a “Bloody Hell!” from him along the way.

He eventually got there and opened it. He took a minute to catch his breath. He was dressed in a white cotton button down, untucked, and grey trousers. His face broke out in a huge grin.

“Well. I didn’t expect you to actually come.”

Arthur leaned against the door frame, looking Eames up and down with a slightly bored expression on his face. While Eames’ outfit was lax as always, at least it wasn’t some terrible paisley pattern. “You were the one bothering me while I was working, so, here I am to entertain you. I can spare a small amount of time if it means I can get back to work in peace.”

“You? Entertain me?” His hand shot to his pocket and felt his chip. Real. He looked back up at Arthur. “Tell me, am I dead?”

“You will be if after this you don't leave me alone,” Arthur mildly threatened, crossing his arms. “So, are you going to invite me inside?

Eames looked Arthur over. God, it was midnight and the man was still looked like a picture from a men's catalog. Not a thread nor hair out of place. Texting the man had been the best decision of the night, or maybe the only good decision, considering the half bottle of scotch he had just consumed.

"Always the witty one, Arthur. Don't worry. I'm ecstatic you're actually here in the first place. Please, come in." Eames stepped aside and let Arthur through into his room. One of the two beds had the covers strewn about, and Eames' suitcase was open in the corner, the contents messed with, but otherwise the room looked sort of tidy.

Arthur stepped inside, gave the place a cursory glance and frowned. The room was neat, nothing really out of place except for a bed that looked like Eames might have just rolled out of it, but it was wrong all the same.

The room was exactly like his. Which meant there was no jacuzzi.

"Eames, you're a goddamn liar, you know that?" he said as he made his way to sit at one of the chairs at the table, more surprised at himself for getting his hopes of relaxation up (though really, trying to relax around Eames was a contradiction if he ever knew one) than at the forger's gall to lie and cajole him into coming over.

Eames laughed out loud at Arthur's disdain, a tone of Arthur's voice he had always enjoyed.

"I apologize, Arthur. I could've sworn there was a jacuzzi in here. Guess I was wrong, huh?" He chuckled and sat down opposite Arthur, grabbing the bottle of scotch. "Would you like a drink instead? Maybe with a little liquid inspiration you could... imagine one."

"I'm not sure any amount of 'liquid inspiration' can convince me that the bathtub is suddenly a jacuzzi, Eames," he replied evenly. He always found it so infuriating the way the other man seemed to overly enjoy the barbs and purposely provoke him for more. "But I will have a drink. Just one drink, I don't need to end up with a hangover as a coda to this night."

Eames chuckled as he dumped some ice cube in a glass and poured the scotch over it. He then slid it over the hard oak table to Arthur, leaving a shiny trail of condensation behind.

"Now, now. A little imagination can do wonderful things. Such as put all the men on a show on BBC into waistcoats." He smirked, but did not meet Arthur's eyes.

Arthur bristled, and took a sharp swig of the bitter liquid. "Well, when I said I would entertain you, I didn't think it would be as the butt of your jokes."

He downed the rest of the scotch in one gulp, and rose to leave. "Thanks for the drink, but I'm pretty sure this was a mistake."

Eames rose to meet Arthur, his expression now stone serious, and yet conflicted.

"I apologize. I have been impossibly rude, inviting you here and being snide. Please forgive me. You came here hoping to relax, right? Maybe I can make it up to you."

Arthur stilled, taken aback by Eames sudden change in attitude. He wasn't sure what his expression meant, but at least he seemed like he wanted to make amends.

"Just, pour me another drink."

Eames tipped the last of the scotch into Arthur's empty glass, and gently handed it to Arthur. He let his fingers brush up against Arthur's as he passed it to him. The sensitivity of alcohol make the contact send bolts of electricity through Eames's fingers, but he tried to ignore it.

He waited until Arthur had sat back down before he got up and moved behind Arthur. Arthur gave him a look, but before he could stare long Eames had placed big hands on Arthur's shoulders and got to work, moving his fingers in meaningful squeezes and pushes.

Arthur stiffened and his first thoughts were that he was being attacked. Then he realized with a jolt of embarrassment that it was a massage.

"This isn't really necessary, Eamessss--oh," he wanted to say, but the strong hands at his shoulders, it wasn't like anything he'd ever felt before. Not that he'd gotten many, if any massages before, but the fingers working at his neck seemed to be drawing lines of tension out of Arthur's body.

Eames felt Arthur's muscles loosen and slack under his hands. It was an unusual experience to see the point man's facade weaken under his own power. It both excited him and concerned him in his fairly inebriated state.

"That's it, love, just relax. It's not a hot tub, but, I hope it will do." He rubbed Arthur's shoulders a little bit more, then found that the thick fabric of Arthur's vest was getting in the way. "Arthur, I would be able to move onto your back better without this," he said, finger sliding underneath the collar of the waistcoat.

Arthur opened eyes he wasn't even aware he'd closed. "W-what? Oh, my vest…" He shrugged out of the waistcoat, wrapping it across the back of the chair and leaned forward in the chair, bent over to give Eames all the access to his back that he wanted.

Arthur distantly had a thought that it was possible that Eames had discovered something about himself that he didn't even know.

Eames felt as if he'd won the lottery. If only he'd known it was that easy to subdue Arthur and get him to take his clothes off! That was a thought the forger miraculously kept inside his mind as placed his palms into Arthur's back and set to work again, making sure to hit all the major pressure points.

Arthur moaned as Eames's hands worked a magic he never would have known he possessed. Maybe it's a good thing, too, otherwise who knows what Arthur would have done to have this whenever he'd like?

"Eames, ooh, that's, that's…nnnngh..."

Fifteen minutes went by. Eames patted Arthur's back as he finished with his last pressure point. Arthur was laying cheek-to-table on the table.

"Arthur? Are you asleep?"

Arthur groaned, and brought his hand to his mouth, surprised to find he'd begun drooling.

"W-what, no, I'm awake, I think I might have dozed off…" he said, trying to gather composure around himself like a security blanket. "Where did you learn to do that?"

Eames pretended not to notice the drool, as he chuckled and patted Arthur's back, making the other man flinch a tiny bit.

"I learned in China. Did you enjoy that?"

Arthur nodded, eyes blinking lazily. "That is, uh, quite some technique. I've never," he cleared his throat, not knowing what words to say that could express the pleasure he felt from the forger's hands. And even if he knew the words, he wasn’t not sure he'd say them. Instead he settled for, "Thank you, Eames."

Eames was quite startled to hear those words out of Arthur's mouth. He smiled despite himself.

"You... you're welcome, Arthur. Always a pleasure."