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Summary
In my youth
The greatest tide washed up my prize: youTen years of birthdays and twenty of pining.
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Bookmark Notes:
There are a few times, sometimes after close-calls, and sometimes after a perfectly ordinary job wrap up that Arthur thinks maybe.
Sometimes when they’re laying side-by-side, satisfied and wet between the thighs, and Eames runs the tips of his fingers up and down Arthur’s stomach until he’s shivering he thinks what if.
Or when they’re pulling an all-nighter and Eames squeezes the back of Arthur’s neck in plain sight and Arthur thinks he’d quite like the feeling of Eames’ hands on him when he’s making dinner or folding his laundry, too.
Or when it’s been a few months and Eames calls him to boast about pickpocketing someone who cut in front of him in a queue and ends up talking his ear off for half the afternoon that Arthur thinks… this feels different.
These are all the times the what-ifs and maybes he should say are resting on the tip of his tongue.
A do you think almost slips out during a job in Montreal when they’re walking side by side down Rue Sainte-Catherine but Eames catches a bullet in the thigh mid-conversation and drops on the icy sidewalk with a nauseating crunch before Arthur can work up the courage.
It’s when Arthur’s down on his knees pressing his thousand-dollar scarf to the pulsing hole in Eames’ leg and soothing Eames with words he still can’t remember to this day that he understands maybes are better off left unsaid.
//
Have to be honest, pet,’ Eames says as he looks around. ‘I wasn’t expecting a family affair.’
‘So?’ Arthur grabs Eames a beer from a cooler and pops the cap off. ‘It’s my birthday gift to myself.’
‘What is?’ Eames asks. He takes the frosty bottle and presses the rim to his lips.
‘Having all the people I love under one roof.’ Arthur admits this so easily that Eames wonders if realises what he’s said. ‘By the way,’ Arthur says, lowering his voice, ‘they think we work for Interpol but feel free to improvise.’
So Eames does. He cups the side of Arthur’s face and takes a breath -- but it’s Arthur who leans in and presses their lips together.
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Bookmark Notes:
"It’s been six years since Berlin, but those sunglasses still live in Arthur’s nightstand as an unremarkable reminder of what it felt like to be happy."
did not need to be called out on this day about being so afraid to lose something that you refuse to let yourself have it in the first place... but ok