Archive of Our Own

Arthur has long since given up on committing himself to anyone except for a few of his fellow colleagues. The problem with relationships is that there are too many ways for problems to occur. Dom and Mal were the closest to him and when she died, his friendship with Dom became... strained.

It's not that he doesn't care for Dom anymore, he still does but that doesn’t shake off the awkwardness Arthur feels toward him. The thing is, when you first meet someone and develop a friendship that lasts for over ten years you don't expect them to change much. Dom had, and understandably so. Arthur isn't going to condemn him for the shift in personality considering what he went through. He understands that Dom needs time to adjust and move on, possibly without any previous ties to his past.

Thus it's difficult to continue communication with him after the Fischer job, not because Arthur doesn't want to, but because he can sense the growing distance between them. He knows Dom wants to forget.

Ariadne however, has other plans. It's been roughly three months since they last saw each other yet she is acting as if the job were just completed this morning.

“I think you all me owe me a drink,” she says by way of greeting when he logs onto the video chat.

“Well, I'm not one to turn such an invitation down,” Eames offers in reply with a smile.

“Really?” Yusuf snorts. “This is what was so important? I was in the middle of an experiment.”

Arthur refrains from rolling his eyes but only just so. He glances at the small box with Dom's face in it and notes he's in a similar state of confused annoyance.

“We said no communication for six months,” Dom says.

“Yeah, well about that...” Ariadne sighs. “People don't have the same idea.”

“What do you mean 'people'?” Arthur's eyes narrow. “Has anyone—?”

“Oh, no one of importance.” Ariadne replies waving her hand dismissively. “He occupies a minor position in the British government. Anyway, he got into contact with Saito first who then asked me if I wanted to work on this one. Initially the client wanted all of us but I told him we weren't working together for a while. Saito told me the client said that was fine so long as I agreed to be the architect.”

“So why are you calling us about this?” Dom asks.

“Because Saito hasn't contacted me in about a month and I'm not sure if I should worry or not. I mean is this a usual thing? Have you guys heard from him?”

Arthur doesn't bother hiding his sigh. Of course he'd heard from Saito. A few weeks ago the man had given him a call about a new job offer. He hadn't said yes yet because he was waiting for further intell on the assignment and his teammates. Arthur should have known something was going on when Saito hadn't responded promptly. He looks at the others and notes similar expressions on their faces.

“So no one has any idea what this job is about?” Dom asks after a short silence.

“Well, we can be certain that it'll be on British soil,” Eames says. “This man with the minor position, do you know anything else about him Ariadne?”

“I haven't met him.” She admits. “Saito said introductions weren't necessary. If I had any problems I could contact him, which struck me as a little odd but I didn't think much about it since you know,” she shrugs a little here. “I'm new and all.”

“So it can be supposed that the man is someone of importance,” Eames leans back in his chair. “Otherwise he'd have no problem in making his presence known to us.”

“Have anyone in mind?” Arthur asks.

“Oh yes,” Eames nods. “If I'm correct, which is quite likely given the discretion of the job, I'd have to say it was—”

Arthur blinks when his screen goes black. He curses and reaches for his phone. As he’s scrolling through the contacts it rings. The number is blocked and he lets it rings three times before turning it off. He rushes to his bedroom and grabs the two overnight bags he keeps in the closet for situations like this. Just as he's pulling on his jacket he stops and listens.

When the sound of the door unlocking reaches his ears he continues moving, slipping out of the room quietly, and heading for the kitchen. He's on the third floor, and it isn't too much of a jump if he manages to climb down onto the second floor's balcony. Just as he's opening the window, a man steps into the kitchen.

“Really, that's as far as you got?” He tuts. “Well, I suppose it'll have to do. Come down from there, it's no use, you won't get far. The place is surrounded.”

Against his better judgment Arthur turns to look at the man, eyebrows raised. “And exactly who are you?”

The man is holding an umbrella and wearing a three piece suit. From within his waistcoat pocket he pulls out a watch and purses his lips.

“I'm Mycroft Holmes,” he replies. “I have a job for you and your colleagues.”

.

The job is a mindfuck. It's not that they fail (at least according to Mycroft they don't) but the man's mind was just... surreal; like something out of a Dalí painting.

Ariadne insists on drinks afterwards and they each try very hard to forget James Moriarty. Arthur for one, privately vows never to accept another job from Mycroft Holmes. Whatever the pay was, it wouldn't be worth it. Eames sits next to him, humming under his breath to some song Arthur's never heard before. He decides to ignore it, in favor of speaking to Dom about his family.

After a few more rounds he and Dom leave for their respective hotels. Arthur books his next flight and schedules for a cab to pick him up at five in the morning. He hadn't bothered to ask the others if they were staying but judging from the wistful look on Dom's face when he spoke of his children, he doubts he'll be staying long. He overheard Ariadne and Eames talking about sight-seeing and although Yusuf had been on board with the idea, the chemist had mentioned experiments he wanted to work on.

He loosens his tie and sets an alarm for four. He estimates he'll need at least fifteen minutes to wake up, another fifteen to shower and dress; and the remaining half hour gathering his things (toothbrush, shoes, and clothes) before checking out. More than enough time, given that his things haven’t moved far from his suitcase.

Just as he's about to fall asleep his phone vibrates. He grumbles in its general direction and turns away, burrowing further into the pillows. When he wakes up, he looks at the screen, and grimaces at the number of calls he's missed. Two are from Ariadne and three from Eames. They've also left several messages.

Arthur arthhuuurrrrr. answwer ur phone.

That one is from Eames and several others continue in the same vein. However much to his surprise, one is from Ariadne which makes Arthur suspect they got drunk together and switched phones at some point. Finally one text from Eames reveals the reason for their calls:

didd u no tat saito & mycroft having an affaair?

Grimacing at the spelling errors, he sends a text back:

No, I wasn't aware.

He rolls his eyes and heads to the shower. By the time he gets out, he has several texts, two from Ariadne, demanding his whereabouts and three from Eames, delighting in the new knowledge and providing further details on how he obtained the information.

He informs Ariadne of his plane and doesn't even bother answering Eames.

. . .

Two months pass but not completely in silence. Yusuf doesn’t get in contact again but Ariadne confirms Arthur’s suspicions about the new experiments he's working on. He doesn't question her too much as to how she's aware of this but judging from the way she deliberately side-steps any inquiries about it, he's going to assume that it’s private.

Arthur and Ariadne keep a steady e-mail correspondence; usually she complains about her thesis or her career prospects but sometimes she talks of the jobs she’s doing, most of which she claims are boring. It had been odd at first, sending short e-mails of questions and advice back and forth but after a while it changed. Ariadne would slip in complaints about her team or perhaps share a memory of her childhood and likewise Arthur found himself sending back stories of his own, about the jobs he's done. He never mentions his non-existent social life and she never asks after it.

Dom sometimes calls to ask after him and whether he's found any new jobs. After the Moriarty extraction, any pretense of silence between them has been shattered and although things aren't as they used to be, Arthur hopes that perhaps he can begin to see Dom as he did before. Not as a mentor but at least as a colleague he can respect and trust.

Eames sends him e-mails too. Mostly they’re silly e-cards full of jokes and animations that bring a series of annoying pop-up ads in their wake. For the most part Arthur begins his replies with curt explanations of how useless the e-mails are and how Arthur doesn't have time for this but whenever he goes to send the response, he manages to calm himself down, discards any drafts that have been saved, and exits the window instead. Eames never complains about the one-sided correspondence and instead as the weeks go by his e-mails become scattered with inside jokes, dinner invitations and pictures of his current position. They’re never too detailed and the dinner invitations are never mentioned again in the following e-mails.

.

Saito contacts them again, this time forgoing the secrecy and setting up a time and place where they'll learn more about the job. They find themselves in an old building in New York which Saito has forbidden them to leave until the job is done. Arthur has no problems with this, thinking of the expenses he'll save on a hotel room. Eames, on the other hand, protests loudly.

“And what if I were to crave a drink or a softer pillow?” Eames asks. “Will you provide it for me?”

“I doubt it will be necessary,” Saito replies curtly. “The job is fairly simple. Get in, get my information, and get out.”

“And how do you expect us to get to Miss Pearson?” Eames taps a pen on the picture of the woman. “She's has constant surveillance.”

“Well, this is what you're paid for.” Saito glares. “Figure it out.”

The business man leaves, slamming the door behind him. The room is silent until Ariadne bursts out laughing. Arthur turns to her and notes the smile now gracing Eames' lips.

“I'm pretty sure he's still angry about London,” Ariadne says to Eames.

“Well yes, that much is obvious,” Eames laughs. “I don't understand why he's still snippy. It's not as if it matters much to me.”

“What are you two talking about?” Yusuf asks.

“Eames found out that Saito is in a relationship with Mr. Holmes,” Dom explains without looking up from the photographs and papers. “Now can we get back on task? I don't want to spend an entire month here. If we plan this right, we can be out of here in three weeks...”

.

They finish the extraction in ten days. The law firm doesn't exactly crumble but there is a new partner who Saito claims will be the best closer the city has ever seen. Arthur tries to ignore the speculative looks Ariadne and Eames share (he really does not need to know about Saito's love life) and declines their invitation for drinks.

Poor Yusuf however is dragged along and before the night is through, Arthur has had calls from all three of them and several texts as well. He begins to wonder about their drunken fascination with him. Eames he understands, and to a certain degree Ariadne as well, but Yusuf? He’s barely worked with the man.

He checks his e-mails before falling asleep and responds to one. A few hours later, he wakes to the ringing of his phone. He groans when he recognizes the ringtone.

“Yes?” He answers.

“You accepted another job?” Dom asks.

“I don't see why this surprises you,” Arthur rubs his eyelids. “I thought we agreed on a little space.”

“The client seems to think otherwise.” Dom's voice is tinged with amusement. “I got a copy of all the information that's been sent to you. Ariadne and Yusuf tell me they've received a similar e-mail and are complaining about the lack of vacation. Have you heard from Eames?”

“No, not yet at least,” Arthur curses under his breath. “I accepted it last night but I thought it would only be me.”

“Well it doesn't look too bad,” Dom says.

Arthur scans his e-mails and pauses over one from an address he recognizes. He opens it, and sighs.

“What?” Dom asks.

“Eames got an e-mail too,” Arthur explains. “Look I'll call you back, let me see what I can do to—”

“Hey,” Dom interrupts. “We're all okay with it. I told the kids I'd be away for a while. Their grandmother wanted some time alone with them. I haven't even booked my plane back home yet so it's no big deal.”

“You sure?”

“Set up the meeting. Let them know we'll be on our way.”

Arthur ends the call and glares at his laptop. He hadn't intended to take another job with them. This one was supposed to be done alone. It didn't look too difficult so why were they asking his inception colleagues to come along? He narrows his eyes and reaches for his phone again. Although the e-mails were brief and scarcely of any use to him, he still recognizes the last name.

“Ooh a phone call, pet?” Eames says by way of greeting.

“Tell me,” Arthur begins, ignoring the other man's chuckle. “Do you by any chance know the name Pendragon?”

.

The job is a mess. In fact this time when Ariadne invites them for drinks, Arthur accepts. They all sit around a dimly-lit pub, nursing their glasses or beers, and stare morosely up at the television set. A news reporter is standing underneath an umbrella—a poor shield against the heavy rain—holding up his microphone as he speaks to the camera.

“It is with deep sorrow that the Pendragon family mourns the loss of a bodyguard. The woman's family has asked for her name not to be divulged to the public however over the past few years she became well-known as Lady Morgana's sole protector. The two were often seen in public together and although speculation on their relationship followed them, it was clear to many that they shared a deep bond.”

Arthur does feel bad for her. Probably not to the extent of guilt evident on Eames' face but still, he won't deny he feels a shred of it as well. Morgause had only been looking after Morgana's well-being as she was hired to do. If things hadn't turned as nastily as they had, then things might have been a little better.

“She doesn't blame us,” Dom announces when he rejoins the table, slipping his phone into his pocket. “Morgana says she's holding her step-father accountable for Morgause's death.”

Eames huffs a little depreciatively. “Doesn't matter does it? We still caused it.”

“No, if anything, it’s my fault,” Arthur sighs. “I shouldn't have taken the job.”

“You are correct.”

They look up at the sound of a new voice. Saito stands before them, a folder in his hands. Meeting their questioning gazes, he takes a seat at their table, and opens the folder. He separates the papers into two stacks which he lays before them.

“This,” Saito points to the stack on his left, “is the official statement of Morgause's unfortunate death.” He points to the other. “And this is a copy of her records in a witness protection program she's been inducted into in the United States.” They stare at him in disbelief and he smirks before standing up. “Mr. Holmes felt it was in your best interest to know the truth. Of course, this is a matter of utmost discretion so if it isn't too much trouble?” He sweeps out of the pub without a backwards glance.

Arthur jumps when his phone buzzes and reaches for it at the exact moment as the others reach for their own.

We'll keep in touch.

-M.

Ariadne glances over his shoulder at his phone and lets out a small hysterical giggle. She reaches for her glass and swallows the rest in one smooth gulp before waving the waitress over.

“I need more alcohol in order to process this,” she declares.

“I agree with that sentiment.” Eames nods and proceeds to order another round for them all.

. . .

Arthur doesn't need to be told that he and the others have become famous in their line of work. He can tell the news has become well known from the amount of offers that come his way which are more than he's seen in the past two years. However that doesn't mean he takes them all as they come in. Arthur's careful with the jobs he takes and even then he makes sure to go over the details with Dom and the others before accepting.

After the Morgause incident, Arthur rarely takes any offers sent to his e-mail. Most seem to know that in order to receive their services, their best bet is to contact Saito. The extractions he's asked them to do are difficult enough that they are on par with their skills but nothing too dangerous that will cause them harm. It seems they've all learned from their initial job together.

Several missions follow and although they are all successful, after the seventh mission they decide to split up. They're sitting in a café in Paris, having called Saito along to hear them out. It doesn't seem to surprise him at all and he sits quietly, sipping his tea.

“I'm tired,” Dom says. “I don't want to leave my kids anymore.”

“Understandable,” Saito nods.

“Mycroft's offered me a position after graduation.” Ariadne offers. “Not sure what though.”

“Training.” Eames sets his cup down. “It's what I used to do when I worked for him.”

“I've gotten rather busy as well,” Yusuf adds with a shrug. “Might be setting up a new den in London. Mycroft's also... ah... offered me a job. I'll get dental.”

Eames snorts, “yes and I'm sure it'll be a fine plan.”

“Shut up.”

“And what about you two? Eames? Arthur?” Ariadne asks.

“I'll still be available,” Arthur says.

“As will I.” Eames adds. “I'm sure Mr. Saito can arrange something for us.”

“I can.” Saito nods.

.

The separation is easy for the most part and Arthur wants to believe it's because people genuinely want him but he knows it's because Saito has been filtering the job offers that head his way. He isn't complaining by any means, in fact it's a pleasant change and although he still keeps in contact with the others, he finds he doesn't miss them much.

If he were to say he didn't miss them at all, that would be a lie. Working with new people is a little frustrating but somehow it all works out. They get used to Arthur's clipped tones. Many respect him and don't bother questioning his aloof manner. Others (and there's a variety in terms of gender) try to seduce him but that usually ends in mutual embarrassment.

Arthur amuses himself in retelling one of these failed attempts to Ariadne when he meets up with her in London after a successful extraction (she insisted on at least a beer for old time's sake).

“Eames came up with something far better when we first met,” Arthur huffs in amusement. “And that is saying something.”

“Oooh!” Ariadne sets her drink down. “How did you two meet? I've been trying to get it out of him for months now but he won't tell me.”

“It was accident,” Arthur begins. “He was supposed to meet Dom but saw me in a bar first—”

“You mean he got distracted?” Ariadne asks knowingly.

“If you want to see it that way.” Arthur rolls his eyes. “He comes up to the bar, holding up a briefcase—horrendous mud color by the way, stickers of the British flag stamped all over it—and tells me he's here for a very important meeting and he's putting it on hold just so he can find out what my name is. If I remember correctly he called me the most 'delicate and loveliest of creatures' he'd ever set his eyes on.”

Ariadne laughs. “Of course he did. What did you say?”

“I recognized him of course since so I brought him to Dom. He thought I was bringing him up to my room.”

“To be fair,” a voice behind him purrs. “You weren't very adverse to my advances.”

Arthur turns around, in surprise. Eames is holding a glass of scotch and ice which he tips in Ariadne's direction.

“Eames!” Ariadne jumps up and offers him a hug. “What are you doing in London?”

He takes the seat next to Ariadne. “Thought I'd visit Yusuf, see what the man's been up to. You lot?”

“Arthur came to visit too,” Ariadne explains before Arthur can say anything.

“Oh I'm hurt.” Eames pouts at Arthur. “Do I not matter enough to warrant a visit?”

“I figured you could stand a couple of months without me checking up on you.” Arthur shrugs. He eyes the British man out of the corner of his eye. “You have been doing well haven't you?”

“Yes, dear.” Eames sighs dramatically. “I've made sure not to get involved in any scandalous affairs and I've kept out of trouble... for the most part.” He winks at Ariadne before lowering his voice. “Have you two heard about the latest story surrounding the Pendragons?”

“You didn't,” Ariadne turns her attention fully to him. “You mean you did that?”

“I was a part of the team that planned it,” Eames corrects. “Sophie is an old friend of mine and I was itching to get back at Uther.”

“She's alive though,” Arthur points out, not bothering to explain who he means. “So why?”

“Oh no this was something different,” Eames replies with a wicked grin. “Apparently the bastard was worse than we initially figured. He refused to offer medical help for a man named Will, one of the palace's servants. Young William was friends with Merlin, the prince's personal body guard, so Merlin tried to quit only he wasn't able to get away from the palace in time. Uther kept him from being by Will's side before he died.”

“So you stole the prince's prized stallion?” Arthur snorts. “How did that affect him?”

“Quite a bit,” Eames laughs. “You see, the prince let us know that although the horse was his, the poor animal was his father's favorite and he had no problem selling it off so long as we promised to make sure it would be taken care of.”

“That's amazing,” Ariadne mutters. “Seriously—”

“I have two questions.” Arthur interrupts. “One, is this the same Sophie I met in Paris?”

“Miss Devereaux, yes,” Eames grins. “She and her new team are a rather formidable force. I'm surprised they haven't gone after Saito yet. Nate would love to sink his business.”

Arthur nods at the information before continuing, “two, how did you smuggle a horse out of the palace grounds?”

Eames laughs but shakes his head. “I can't tell you that. You probably wouldn't believe me.”

. . .

Arthur takes a break for a while. He doesn't mean to but the trickle of offers coming his way aren't interesting enough. He does however, make it a point to take a plane to L.A for Phillipa's tenth birthday. He expects it to be a quiet affair but it is not. When he arrives, he is greeted by a wary Yusuf who is covered in what Arthur suspects to be glitter and ribbons.

“Please tell me you've got a job or something.” Yusuf all but begs. “These children will be the death of me.”

Arthur can't help the smile on his face. “No, I'm here for Phillipa. Same as you, I expect?”

“And that makes the gang complete!” Eames walks into the room, wearing a ridiculous pink and purple stringed party hat. “Arthur, dear I thought you'd never come. You usually aren't this late.”

Arthur blinks at the man's presence before shaking off his surprise. “There was traffic.”

“Uncle Arthur!”

Arthur turns just as two children collide with his legs. There are other children in the living room, glancing up at the sight of a new adult. Bending down to exchange hugs with the Cobb children, he asks after their father.

“He's with Aunt Ariadne in the kitchen,” James explains. “They're getting the cake.”

“A very important job,” Arthur nods solemnly. “I'll go see if I can help.”

.

“So how has life been treating you?” Eames asks.

They're alone on the porch, sipping beers and doing their best to ignore the shrieks of laughter from inside. The children have become rowdier with the consumption of cake. Arthur winces when he hears the sound of a crash followed by a loud round of “ooooh”s in perfect unison.

“I'm sorry?” Arthur turns at Eames' expectant look. When he repeats the question Arthur shrugs. “Not bad. Few extractions. People have stopped asking me about inception. I’ve been hired by a couple others to train their employees. You?”

“Pretty much the same,” Eames nods. “Mycroft's been trying to call me back to train his recruits. Told him to piss off.”

“I don't understand why you don't say yes,” Arthur mutters.

“No, you understand perfectly darling.” Eames' voice is suddenly cold and when Arthur glances at him, he sees the hard set to his jaw.

He nods and says nothing.

. . .

The next job doesn't start out as a job. It starts out as an invitation for drinks which escalates to a kidnapping and a plane ride. Arthur tells himself he should have expected as much from Natasha Romanov.

“You couldn't have just asked me?” Arthur mutters, rubbing his head when he first comes to in a small gray room. “I would have said yes, you know.”

“It was for your own safety,” Natasha replies. “Make yourself presentable so you can meet the team.”

“What team?” He asks.

“The Avengers.”

She leaves the room without another word, her retreating footsteps unheard. Arthur thinks he shouldn't be excited at her last words. Arthur should be pissed off but he isn't. How could he be? He's going to meet the Avengers. He can't even try to muster any indignation at the state of his hair because, it's pointless. He's meeting the Avengers. And yes, he’s a little excited.

He spends several minutes in vain as he attempts to smooth his hair back. He consoles himself with the fact that at least Natasha had spared a thought to bring him a new suit, given his current one is in such as sorry state that he suspects his dry cleaner will probably burst into tears at the very sight of it. When he opens the door he is surprised to find a familiar face.

“Phil?” Arthur asks uncertainly.

“Long time no see Arthur.” He smiles.

“I thought you were 'dead'.” Arthur shakes his head with a laugh.

“I was. If you'll follow me, I'll bring you to the others. Then I'll show you where you'll be staying.”

“Staying?” Arthur echoes. “No, Phil. I have a job to do—”

“Mr. Saito has spoken to your client and it's been passed onto Miss Ariadne.” Phil doesn't even bother looking back at him, continuing in his journey down a long hallway of gray doors. “He believes she is the most qualified specialist for the job.”

Arthur opens his mouth to argue but instead sighs and falls into step behind the man. It's been a couple years since he's seen him and although he can blame their respective jobs, he knows some of the blame falls on Arthur himself; he hasn't been home in a while.

“It's been two years.” Phil says suddenly and Arthur has to forcibly remind himself that his brother isn't psychic no matter how close that description might resemble him. “Mike hasn't seen you in three.”

Arthur pauses for a moment. Has it really been that long? He has to try and make an effort to visit one of these days, he tells himself. They head to an elevator which is sleek and screams of advanced technology which can only mean one thing.

“What do you think you're doing bringing your prisoners to my tower?” Tony Stark's voice demands. “Just because you live here does not give you the right to bring potentially dangerous—”

“Now, I resent that. I'm sure I look more than potentially dangerous, I look positively deadly.”

It's Eames, lounging on a white sofa as he amuses himself with the tea set on the coffee table. Standing near him is Natasha. Beside her stands a man whom Arthur recognizes as an old flame of hers—he's wearing a purple shirt and Arthur has to pause at the pattern—and across from her is the famous Tony Stark who stands with his back turned to the doorway.

“For all I know, that can be absolutely true, considering they brought you in alive.” Tony snaps back.

At the other end of the room is a tall blond man with a muscular build standing next to another man who—if it's possible—is taller and more muscular but with longer blond hair. They stand together, watching the scene with either an unreadable (the former) or confused (the latter) expression. By the window stands a smaller man with glasses who eyes everyone warily.

“Of course they brought me back alive,” Eames laughs. “I'm extremely valuable.”

“With that mouth of yours, I'm surprised no one's killed you out of sheer annoyance.” Arthur's comment slips out before he can think better of it but at the sound of his voice Eames looks up and his face splits into a grin.

“Ah, Arthur. Always here to look after my tongue.” He sits up and pats the seat next to him.

“And who are you?” Mr. Stark turns to face him down.

Without so much as glancing at the billionaire Arthur takes the seat next to Eames (“Your hair looks positively dashing in that state by the way.”). He levels a calm look at the agents staring at him. His brother stands by the doorway, arms crossed and a folder in one hand.

“You expect us to train them.” He doesn't bother asking because it's become clear to him that it's the only logical reason for his presence among these superheroes. “Did Mycroft or Saito make it too difficult to get Dom?”

“He isn't an option,” Natasha responds. “He has a family.”

“Doesn't mean he isn't willing to train.” Eames says and Arthur can tell he's rolling his eyes from the scoff that escapes under his breath. “Honestly, did you even bother asking?”

“It was decided he wouldn't be disturbed,” Phil says.

“And why not go through SHIELD?” Arthur asks.

“We don't trust them,” the man in purple says flatly. “I would have preferred Cobb to be honest but you two are the next best thing.”

Eames looks as if he's itching to say something about the 'next best' comment but Arthur shoots him a look. The man smiles and shrugs.

“Fine,” Arthur replies. “Just make sure you don't leave a trail when you transfer the funds.”

Natasha smirks and along with the other agent moves to get out of the way. Behind her on a desk sits the PASIV case. Beside the table there is a large white board. He glances at Eames who grins and stands with him.

Eames moves to sit on the desk while Arthur moves to accept the folder from Phil. He sets it down for later and moves to the board. Eames is reaching backwards to rifle through the drawers when he pulls out a marker. He throws it to Arthur who catches it with ease and turns to face the Avengers.

“What do you know about dreams?”

.

Arthur agrees to drinks with Eames afterward and although he doesn't get as drunk as Eames, he does have a steady buzz going as he follows Eames to a nearby hotel (Tony had extended the hospitality of his tower for another night but Arthur politely declined for the two of them, ignoring the knowing smirk on the billionaire's face).

The hotel only has rooms with single beds which doesn't bother them as much as it bothers the flustered clerk who asks them for proper identification. Eames in his drunken stupor proclaims he shall take the floor but Arthur declines such an offer. After several minutes wasted arguing Arthur manages to coax him onto the bed next to him, stating that the bed is large enough for the two of them and that he's pretty sure Eames will be a complete gentleman.

Of course the shocking part is that Eames is a complete gentleman—and a drunk one at that—who completely knocks out as soon as his head hits the pillow. He even keeps to his side of the bed and doesn't try to hog any of the sheets. Arthur tries not to feel too disappointed when he slips into bed beside Eames who still has most of his clothes still on.

In the morning they extend for another night (Eames is still too hung over so Arthur takes the elevator down to pay for the additional night) and order room service. After they eat they spend an hour video chatting with Ariadne and (surprisingly) Yusuf over the superheroes they've just finished training.

“Banner was the best of them all,” Eames says. “Seriously, I had my money on the super soldier but I guess looks can be deceiving.”

“I can't believe I didn't get a chance to meet them.” Yusuf whines. “Of all the people I would have been willing to train, they'd have been it.”

“We'll have our chance.” Ariadne pats him.

“Doubtful,” Arthur says. “As far as I know, the other superheroes are being trained or protected by mutants in the area.”

“Thanks for shooting down my dream Arthur.” Yusuf mutters. “There has to be someone interested in compounds.”

“You can try Reed Richards?” Arthur suggests.

“I meant someone cool.” Yusuf says looking affronted by the mere name. “I'd even settle for Loki okay? Ariadne,” he turns to her, pouting. “Make it happen.”

Arthur raises a brow at the interaction and beside him Eames is struggling to contain his laughter. Ariadne looks torn between fondness and amusement. She shakes her head helplessly, before suddenly stilling, and reaching for her phone. Ariadne groans and beside her Yusuf does so as well, frowning at his phone. They look up at the screen and Eames isn't hiding his amusement this time.

“Mr. Holmes I presume?” He asks.

“He wants us to get to bed already,” Ariadne complains (“It's barely even eight!” Yusuf wails). “We've got new recruits coming in tomorrow.”

“How lovely,” Yusuf mutters.

“How... does he know you're still awake?” Arthur asks, blinking.

Ariadne and Yusuf share a look before shuddering.

“I don't even want to know,” Ariadne mutters. “But he's right, I guess. I've got to scare them tomorrow. Need to be awake for that.”

“Good luck,” Eames says.

When the screen turns black, the two men look at each other and both break out into grins.

“Care to wager on how long it'll take before they're jumping each other's bones?” Eames asks.

“Now Mr. Eames,” Arthur begins, attempting to school his features into the stern tone he's taken. “What kind of man do you take me for?”

“Would you like to find out?” Eames' voice is quiet now, gaze lowering as his eyes roam over Arthur.

Arthur's breath catches in his throat and he wants to slap himself for it. He wants to glare at Eames and scrub at the flush creeping up onto his cheeks. However he doesn't. It's been years since he's tried to be with anyone. Months since he's had someone. He stands and heads for the bed, Eames quickly scrambling to follow him.

Later in bed, after they've finished off the remnants of their coffee pot Arthur turns to Eames quite seriously and says, “three weeks.”

Eames blinks for a moment before he laughs. “One week. Any longer and Yusuf will begin to resemble a Christmas tree with all his pining.”

. . .

Months pass and Arthur has yet to figure out what to call it. In his head he calls it 'The Affair' and he's pretty sure Eames just calls it 'This Thing' usually accompanied by a wave of his hand. They're never vocal about the... relationship but they don't hide it either. The few times they eat out isn't much different from how they usually act except now Eames will reach over and kiss his hand or his lips.

Things seem to progress. They no longer book separate rooms at hotels and sometimes don't even bother with them when they can easily slip off to their apartments depending on which is closest. If either of them are out of the country doing jobs, they make a point to call or text whenever they have time. E-mails occur less frequently and Arthur logs onto his Skype account almost each night even if it is just to complain about the length of the job or the incompetence he finds in his teammates.

Arthur doesn't say anything about the clothes that make their way to the closet in his New York apartment. Likewise Eames doesn't bat an eyelash when he sees the coffee table Arthur buys for his flat in London. Although they aren't very public about The Affair, it's become apparent that almost everyone knows that they're sharing apartments. Well sort of.

“Eames updated his Facebook relationship status a few weeks ago,” Ariadne explains. “How is it complicated? You two have known each other for years.”

Arthur doesn't exactly choke on his coffee but it's a very near thing. He swallows his burnt tongue a couple times and eyes her warily. She looks annoyed but triumph is clear in her eyes.

“It's really not something I want to discuss,” he mutters. “Anyway, what about you and Yusuf? How long has it been now?”

“Oh shut up.” Ariadne rolls her eyes but she's blushing a little. “Eames told me you lost the bet by the way. Three weeks? Seriously? I'm not blind.”

Arthur sighs. He doesn't want to have this conversation right now. He came to London to do a job. The fact that he met up with Ariadne was purely coincidental and a bit of bad luck. Still, it's a decent front and at least from where they're sitting he can see the man he's been following is still sitting at the booth in the corner, chatting quite happily with the perky blonde in front of him.

Saito had explained that for this particular job secrecy was of great importance. National security and all that. Arthur has a feeling the orders came from Mycroft but he wasn't going to complain. So far his instructions were simply to follow and gain any information on them which would later be passed onto a group of experts in a secret organization he wasn't supposed to know the name of (but he knew was Torchwood because his brother was just as all-knowing as Mycroft).

“So are you going to tell me who you're tailing or am I going to have to figure it out myself?” Ariadne asks.

Arthur's attention snaps back to her. He keeps his face perfectly blank and shrugs. She grins and turns to look behind her, neck straining to look in all directions for the possible targets. He refrains from slapping a palm to his forehead and chooses instead to politely clear his throat.

“Seriously?” He asks when she finally turns back to him. “You work for Mycroft, I'm sure even you know the definition of discretion.”

“Never been my strong suit,” Ariadne replies. “I just want to make sure you haven't got any superheroes this time otherwise Yusuf will kill me for not telling him.”

.

He doesn't expect to actually meet the Doctor. He also doesn't expect to find Eames with him either. It's a little confusing and although the job turns out to be flop for Mycroft, Arthur gains two new acquaintances whom promise to visit or come calling should he ever need help. Somewhere along the way during a chase through back alleys and an abandoned warehouse, looking for a horned alien hellbent on charging at every sizable man who looked capable of a challenge, Arthur wonders how this has become his life.

“He's a smart one Eames,” the Doctor says with a smile. “A little cheeky but definitely a keeper.”

“I'll make sure to keep him around then.” Eames nods. “Till we see each other again Rose.”

“Take care of yourself, yeah?” She's smiling as she gives him a brief hug.

The two retreat into the phone box and Arthur stands back, listening to the engine and feeling a little small. Not that he'll ever admit it but Eames seems to understand and nudges his arm. Arthur glances at him and watches as the man offers his hand.

Arthur has never been one for such displays of affection but that's only because he's never found himself in such a position before. Perhaps when he was younger he held one of his brother's hands but other than that there aren't many memories of his parents nor of other short-lived partners.

He stares at Eames' hand for a moment before tentatively reaching out. Eames smiles at him and Arthur wants to pull away in order to wipe the sweat gathering between their palms but he doesn't. Or maybe Eames doesn't let him because Eames tucks their joined hands into the crook of his elbow before steering him onto the sidewalk.

“I think we can still make it to our seven o'clock reservation if we walk fast enough,” Eames whispers.

Before he can help himself Arthur smiles.

. . .

Arthur wants to blame himself for ruining things. He wants to admit it and say it's his fault but it really isn't. At least not the way he sees it. The very idea that it's even in some way his fault is ridiculous. Even Ariadne is siding with him on this one and if there's something he can rely on, it's her fair judgment. Granted her support had come after she'd chewed him out for the story and how unfair he seemed to be acting toward Eames when all he'd done was sell his flat in London.

“That's not the point Ariadne,” he said to her. “The point is he did it without telling me and he... he went back to working for Mycroft.”

Ariadne had shut up at that point, painfully aware that there was a piece of the puzzle she was missing. A piece Arthur wasn't willing to share.

However no subject was ever dropped where Ariadne was concerned. If there was one thing he'd learned from watching her interact with Dom it was that she was determined to know things she shouldn't, despite the consequences. It was an admirable trait in her but even so, he wishes she hadn't done what she had.

She used her access codes to get into several databases to find anything she could. She used the blackmail material she'd gathered from those whom worked with Mycroft. Such drastic measures were unnecessary when it wasn't that important, or so Arthur tells himself.

However that isn't what surprises Arthur the most in her quest to find out what he refuses to talk about. Her decision to take an unconventional approach was unexpected not because Arthur didn't think Ariadne capable of such an action but because of all the people Arthur had met so far, the last person he ever expected to meet was Mycroft Holmes' little brother.

.

“I'm sorry,” Ariadne says.

It's been a week since their last conversation and two days since Sherlock Holmes showed up in his hotel room. They're sitting in the living room of her flat and drinking tea.

“I shouldn't have.” She sets down her cup and turns her pleading gaze on him. “It was stupid and I'm an idiot. It was private and—”

“It's all right.” Arthur sighs. “You wouldn't be in this field unless you knew how to gather information. What you did was perfectly logical. Even if it was... a little uncalled for.”

Ariadne looks down at her hands in shame. Arthur doesn't bother reassuring her. He still considers her a friend of sorts... well maybe 'friend' is too much for now—a formidable colleague perhaps? He makes a mental note to keep an eye on her from now on and compose a list of her personal contacts.

“I'm just... I'm so sorry,” Ariadne begins. “I should have trusted you and kept Sherlock away and—”

“He was interesting.” Arthur cuts in.

Ariadne is silent for a moment. Arthur's comment has thrown her off. Finally she settles on an uncertain smile. “I know what you mean. He's out there but he's good as what he does.”

They sit in silence for a while, listening to the soft ticks of the clock Ariadne has hanging on the wall. She gets up to refill their cups but otherwise doesn't do anything else. She's waiting for him to speak, nervous with the quiet that has descended between them.

Arthur leans back in his chair and looks at the young woman. “Do you really want to know why?”

She sets her cup down before she nods. “Yes.”

“It's not that... interesting.” He looks down at his cup, watching the sugar cubes dissolve into the hot liquid. “Not like Dom's story.”

“I'm not looking for interesting,” she says. “I just want to understand.”

He wonders vaguely if this is what she told Dom when he told her about Mal. He doesn't follow through with that thought and instead collects his own, trying to decide the best way to explain.

“When I first met Eames,” Arthur begins, “he was still working for Mycroft. Training, extracting, experimenting. He was the British government's best forger. Then Mycroft told him Dom and I were his next marks.” Ariadne is leaning forward, trying to hang onto every word as his voice lowers a little. Arthur isn't sure whether it's from having never told anyone about it before or from the weight behind the story which causes him to hesitate as he choses his words carefully. “I noticed someone was following us. Dom was too tired then, fighting with Mal and dealing with the rest of this family so he didn't notice. I let Dom go to the hotel alone and I circled around to find our stalker. Instead I found Eames. He told me that Mycroft was looking for something.”

“For what?” She asks and her voice is as low as his, quiet and uncertain, as if she is afraid he'll stop speaking.

“An explanation for Mal's behavior.” He replies. “Her condition leaked out fast. It had been maybe a couple of weeks or so since I found out about but others noticed as well. I don't know how things went down with Mycroft but I know it didn't end well because the next time I met Eames, he was in India, running with a gang that needed Eames far more than he needed them.”

“So then why did you accept the Moriarty job?” Ariadne asks.

“Because Dom did,” Arthur explains. “Someone had to be there to keep an eye on him and you for that matter. My guess is Eames said yes for similar reasons.”

“But you work for Saito.” Ariadne points out. “He gets jobs from Mycroft.”

“The only ones I agree to do for Mycroft are the ones where I'm not required to go under. Eames does the same.” Arthur pushes his tea away, fingers playing with his cuff links. “Or at least I thought he did.”

. . .

Arthur flies to L.A at Dom's request, thinking it has something to do with a job. Instead he finds Saito on the porch, speaking in hushed tones to Phillipa Cobb as they look down at a potted plant. He catches bits of the conversation about how flowers need someone to talk to otherwise they'll get lonely.

He tries to keep his face carefully expressionless when Saito looks up at him but it's rather impossible once he catches sight of the smudge of dirt on his nose. Phillipa also sees this and reaches up to swipe her hand over it, spreading even more in the process. Arthur finds himself smiling in spite of himself and lifts a hand to cover it with the pretense of scratching his nose.

“I assume you're here to see Dom,” Saito says, undisturbed by the soil on his face. “He's in the kitchen, cleaning James up.”

Arthur nods and heads inside, trying not to stare as he moves around them and up the steps to the door. He hangs his coat up and heads for the kitchen. There he finds Dom crouched down before a chair wiping down an over-excited James who is babbling about plants and worms. Arthur stands in the doorway, waiting for Dom to notice him.

“Uncle Arthur!” James is the first to look up.

The child scrambles from his chair and launches himself against Arthur's legs. He crouches down to pull the child into a loose hug.

“Hey, just saw your sister outside. Were you two planting seeds?”

“Yup! Saito-san came by to help and he's taking us out tomorrow for a movie and hot dogs and popcorn and a pretzel!”

“Sounds like fun,” Arthur says with a smile.

“Hey James, go find your sister, and tell her she has to wash up for dinner.”

“Okay!” James is already out the door and running down the hallway when his footsteps are heard once more and he's skidding to a halt in front of his father. “Is Saito-san staying?”

“I don't know,” Dom shrugs. “Go ask him.”

Just as the child leaves the room for a second time, Arthur turns to Dom with a raised brow. Dom sighs and turns to the fridge. He pulls out a beer for himself and another for Arthur.

“So...” Arthur begins uncertainly. “Saito?”

Dom looks at him, biting his lip before sighing and nodding. Arthur takes a swig of his beer and nods slowly before taking a seat. Dom takes the seat across from him and rubs the back his neck.

“I guess I should explain?” Dom asks quietly.

“Probably.” Arthur says.

.

“Wait, you mean you didn't know?” Yusuf stares at Arthur incredulously. “Seriously? Ariadne called that one ages ago. Where have you been?”

Arthur is back in London again and he tells himself it's not because he misses Eames as Ariadne keeps implying but simply to visit her. However if Ariadne were to find out about the number of times he's passed by Eames' old flat she would probably suggest otherwise. They're at the facility where Ariadne and Yusuf work, surrounded by other workers. Arthur notices most of them are glancing at his visitor badge with interest.

“I've been working,” Arthur replies shortly. “I thought Saito was with Mycroft?”

“That only went on for like five months.” Ariadne pokes at her omelet with distaste. “Saito's been in L.A a lot. He offered Dom a job as an actual architect. Things sort of progressed from there.” Arthur sighs and Ariadne suddenly looks at him, narrowing her eyes slightly. “That isn't a problem is it?”

“It's a little unexpected but...” Arthur shrugs. “As long as Dom's happy.”

“Oh he is.” Ariadne grins. “They're adorable together. I mean it's sickening after a while but seriously, adorable.”

“I'll just have to take your word for it.” Arthur says trying but failing to make a face.

“It's like seeing your parents make out,” Yusuf comments with a shudder.

“Oh shut up,” Ariadne scowls.

. . .

It's been two months since Arthur's last seen Eames. Ariadne asks if he misses him and he wishes he were honest when he says he doesn't. He has gone longer without the man but he at least acknowledges to himself that it's different this time. All that time without him had been before their relationship had become this... thing.

He lies awake in his bed at his apartment in New York and wonders if maybe he should call him. He'd even settle for an e-mail at this point and—

Arthur scolds himself for even so much as allowing his mind to process that thought. He doesn't need the pointless e-cards or Eames' jokes and snide comments. He doesn't need any of that. He just needs a job. Something to take his mind off the other man.

He reaches over for his phone and checks his e-mails. Saito hasn't sent him anything and Mycroft has given up on trying to contact him, it seems. There are a few e-mails from others, friends he's made over the years that know him well enough to offer him jobs that he'll probably end up taking (if only because they respect his requests to keep certain colleagues away from him). Arthur sighs and passing a hand over his face decides he might as well watch a movie.

He flips the television on and tries to ignore how loud it sounds in the empty apartment.

. . .

Arthur is back in L.A at Saito's request. One of the new buildings Dom has designed is to be opened to the public the next day and Saito insisted on a party for the benefactors. A “private” event, Saito insisted that would also double up as a surprise birthday party for his partner.

“I think it's sweet,” Ariadne said when they spoke over the phone the night before. “But the important thing here is that Eames is going to be there.”

“Oh, he is?” He kept his voice carefully flat.

“Yes, are you still going?”

Arthur said he was. He knows attending will be a bad idea. Eames' mere presence will be enough to possibly ruin the entire night for him but that's not fair to Dom or Saito who has been a fair employer up until now by keeping him away from Eames. And besides he's been stuck in his apartment for the past week with almost nothing to do. He needs to get out and manage some semblance of living.

He arrives at the address in a taxi and is surprised to see a large crowd making their way to the building. Thankfully there are no cameras and the streets aren't crowded with limos but with cars that are taken by the valets.

Arthur should have known word would have gotten out to others and although Saito manages only a few extractors, Arthur is sure there are more than there should be. He recognizes some that he's worked with who nod their greetings. There are others whom seem to fit the bill of private donors, though to Arthur they look suspiciously like potential clients here for the sole purpose of obtaining Saito's services.

One of them however, is instantly recognizable and Arthur has to pause and stare because what the hell is Tony Stark doing here?

Apparently Tony has been hanging out with his brother for too long because Arthur swears once he finishes that thought, Tony looks around wildly until his gaze lands in Arthur's direction.

“Arthur!” He greets loudly. “Good to see you.”

Tony is smiling widely holding out his hand and reaching for Arthur's shoulder with a firm pat.

“Mr. Stark,” Arthur says uncertainly. “I didn't expect to see you here.”

“Oh, I didn't expect to be here either,” Tony replies cheerfully. “But Saito's been dodging my calls and I heard he was having a party so what better way to get him to listen than to show up and crash his party?”

“It's really not his party though,” Arthur finds himself explaining. “It's for... his partner.”

“Oh yes. Dominick Cobb am I right?” Tony steers them to the elevators. “It's okay, I brought him a present. We all did!”

Arthur looks up and resists the urge to groan. “Why?” He directs this to his brother who has swapped his suit for a tuxedo.

“We have questions for Mr. Saito,” Phil says. “We also thought it would be nice to congratulate Mr. Cobb on returning to field of architecture... and for his birthday which is tomorrow I believe?”

Arthur wonders faintly if he's dreaming. It would certainly explain things. He resists the urge to reach for the familiar weight of the die in his pocket. Tony however doesn't let him linger for long and shoves him into the lift with the rest of the Avengers which is a feat unto itself and Arthur vaguely reminds himself to thank Dom for designing the building with such large elevators. The doors open and reveal a large ballroom filled with people and lights.

So much for a private event, Arthur thinks. He wants to take a moment to admire the architecture but he's pushed out of the way by a boisterous Thor.

“Wine!” He proclaims before heading into the crowd.

He barely has time to wonder about the poor choice he's made in coming here tonight before Phil is gripping his elbow and pushing him to a nearby table. It's mostly empty except for a couple whom promptly leave at the glare his brother sends their way. Phil shoves him into a chair, unceremoniously and fixes him with a look.

“I heard you broke up with Eames.” He says at last.

“How did you—never mind.” Arthur rolls his eyes. “Absurd to even ask.”

“You've been moping.” Phil states.

“I have not.” Arthur replies shortly, indignation running fast through his veins. “I just haven't had any jobs lately.”

Phil stares at him coolly and Arthur desperately wants to punch him but he knows that's a certain death sentence considering the fact that there are currently five other superheroes in the room whom he knows probably refer to his brother as their nanny.

“I've checked your e-mails,” Phil says. “You have at least three possible offers but you won't take them.”

“You checked my—of course you did.” Arthur sighs.

“You won't take them because they're requesting Eames work with you as well.” Phil finishes. “You've worked with exes before.”

“Eames is different,” Arthur snaps.

He sighs again and resists the urge to rub his temples. It wouldn't do to have his brother realize how grating this discussion is becoming. He'd probably use such an action to his advantage, psychoanalyzing him or something else. Instead he gets up and tries to ignore the fact that it probably looks like he's running. It's better than sitting under his brother's scrutiny

“I have to... find people.” Arthur decides. “I'll see you around.”

Arthur has already turned away to leave when Phil calls after him, “when you guys make up, bring him around for Christmas!”

He resists the urge to scowl and wonders where Ariadne and Yusuf are.

.

Finding them isn't difficult. Ariadne is sitting at a table near the end of the hall looking extremely bored. Beside her is Yusuf and Arthur is surprised to see he's holding a rather enthusiastic discussion with Bruce Banner. Arthur slides into the seat across from them, offering a smile to the young woman who returns it gratefully.

“What I have to ask is how did you come across the solution for multiple levels?” Bruce asks. “It took the government years to figure that out.”

“Oh, child's play,” Yusuf says and Arthur swears that he's glowing. “There were so many willing to experiment that it was only a matter of—”

“Three weeks, four days and three hours.” A voice says.

Arthur winces and chances a glance behind him. Sherlock Holmes stands there, looking a little out of place among the other businessmen with his coat still on. Behind him is John Watson and Arthur is pleased to see that he at least has some decency to look abashed on his friend's behalf for interrupting a conversation.

“Mycroft was monitoring you actually,” Sherlock explains.

“And how do you know about that?” Yusuf asks curiously.

“Hacking into the directory wasn't difficult.” Sherlock scoffs. “He made it a point to mention that there weren't many chemists left in the world. Something about eliminating the bad eggs.”

“Sherlock Holmes,” Ariadne greets with a nod. “Speaking of hacking... was that you who transferred that idiot out of my course?”

“I have no idea what you're talking about,” Sherlock says but his eyes are shining as he looks about the room with a cursory glance.

“Oh I'm sure you don't,” Ariadne smiles. “Yusuf, Mr. Banner, meet Sherlock Holmes and his friend John Watson.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Yusuf says. “I've read your website. Amazing stuff. I also managed to get a hold of a couple of essays you wrote. Very influential despite the fact that you only dabbled in the field for a few weeks.”

“It was boring,” Sherlock replies. “I much prefer my current profession.”

“Which is?” Bruce asks.

“I'm a consulting detective,” he says.

“Bruce!” Tony detaches himself from the crowd and makes his way over to their table. “Making friends?”

“Yes,” Bruce is already up and making introductions.

Arthur shoots Ariadne a pleading glance which she clearly understands but is ignoring as she allows Tony Stark to dote on her for a few moments.

“So you've found new science bros?” Tony asks. “Great, they're probably better than what we've got back at home.”

“I'm sorry?” Sherlock asks. “ 'Bro'?”

There is a silence during which Arthur decides he is leaving. Or at least he's about to until Ariadne's grip on his jacket stops him. He glares at her but she's either too amused to notice or doesn't care.

“Yes, short for brother.” Tony says slowly.

“Ah, I have one of those and find him to be most inconvenient. I'm afraid I must refuse your request to be 'science bros'.”

“Actually now that you're mentioning brothers.” Ariadne cuts in before Tony can say anything. “How is your brother? I thought Saito invited him.”

“Oh he did,” John says, effectively cutting off Sherlock who looks rather put out (probably from losing the opportunity to make fun of his brother). “He decided to send us in his place. He and Greg are currently on holiday.”

“Greg... You mean Lestrade?” Ariadne is suddenly leaning forward, eyes blown comically wide and beside her Yusuf is also mimicking her expression.

Arthur decides that this is the most absurd conversation he's been privy to. Sensing Ariadne's distraction, he mumbles a quick apology and gets up from the table. He needs a drink.

.

Arthur makes it to the bar without encountering any familiar faces and has placed his order when someone pats him on the shoulder. He turns around and is floored to find the prince and his bodyguard.

“Hello Arthur,” Merlin says with a smile.

“Good evening.” He greets. “I wasn't aware you were also invited.”

“Mr. Saito and I have business to attend to tomorrow but I was rather hoping I could finish it tonight,” the prince replies. “I intend to go on holiday.”

“Oh well, that's good” Arthur says. “The whole family or...?”

“Morgana insisted we escape our father's clutches for a few days so she could visit a friend.” Merlin says with a smile. “San Francisco is nice this time of year isn't it?”

“I suppose,” Arthur nods, trying to remember Morgause's file and where she had settled. “Haven't been there in years.”

The conversation is nice and sticks mostly to weather and small inquiries on Arthur's health and Merlin's new part-time job as a professor. In turn Arthur finds himself asking how the king is getting on without his horse which makes the young men break into grins.

“I suppose if Mr. Saito won't be making his appearance soon, we'll return to our hotel,” the prince says. “You wouldn't happen to know if he'll be along soon?”

“Sorry no,” Arthur shrugs. “I haven't seen Dom around either so...”

Merlin attempts to hide a giggle but clearly not well enough because the prince is glaring at him sternly. Arthur wishes them a goodnight and tries to ignore the way people around them are torn between staring at him and the retreating backs of the other two. Unable to stand such scrutiny, Arthur decides to lose himself in the crowd, ignoring the pointed looks some of his colleagues give him.

.

Arthur wonders if Saito has done this on purpose or if he honestly didn't know all these people were coming. His little brother is moving through the crowd next to another older man and Arthur decides that he's had enough. He doesn't need a reunion with his brother right now, he needs to do that on his own terms. How Phil has managed to slip Mike's radar is beyond him but he chalks it up to the man's usual ninja tendencies.

He takes the stairs down to the lobby and wanders around for a while. He hasn't seen Dom all night and after making a brief fifteen minute appearance, Saito had also mysteriously disappeared. It doesn't take a genius to put two and two together.

Arthur sighs and looks about the room. He hasn't seen Dom's work in years but it's undoubtedly his. He walks slowly, taking in the quiet of the room. It is practical with its space yet very elegant. Arthur tilts his head back in order to inspect the ceiling. A pointed cough causes Arthur to still and he turns around against his better judgment.

“Mr. Eames.” Arthur greets, nodding.

“So formal.” Eames pouts a little. “I thought we were closer than that.”

Arthur raises an eyebrow and resists the urge to cross his arms and glare. Arthur doesn't need Eames to know how pissed off he is by his mere presence. Arthur also doesn't need to acknowledge the fact that his body is trembling slightly, betraying him with its need to seek out the warmth he knows lies with the other man. He turns away and continues to stare up at the ceiling.

“Ignoring me now?” Eames chuckles. “Come on now, I didn't come all the way from London just to talk at you. I came here to explain.”

Eames steps forward and raises his hands placatingly. Arthur levels a cool look at him. “You really don't need to. Now if you'll excuse me I'm—”

“No.” Eames reaches out and clamps his fingers around Arthur's wrist. “Please Arthur, I need you to listen to me.”

Arthur stares down at his hand in surprise and anger. He makes to pull away but Eames is too quick and he's moving forward to grab Arthur's other hand, reaching further to hold onto his elbow.

“I need to show you something.” Eames' voice is urgent and low, so as to not alert the security guards keeping watch in the lobby.

“Let go of me.” Arthur says, voice rising. “I don't care what you have to show to me. I want you to—!”

“I'm sorry!” Eames blurts out. “I'm sorry, believe me, I had a reason. You weren't supposed to find out and it was safe and—”

“You're sorry?” Arthur echoes incredulously. He yanks away his arm and pushes the other man. “For what exactly? You agreed to a job for a man you know is dangerous. He's put his own people at risk.” Arthur backs away, glaring. “That was a decision you made all on your own so you don't have to apologize to me about that. I don't care what you do. Your apology should be for insulting my intelligence. Did you honestly think you could hide the job from me?”

“Don't kid yourself.” Eames replies moving forward slowly. “You can pretend it didn't bother you that I took a dangerous job but I know better. It worried you.”

“Oh please.” Arthur scoffs, doing his best not to back away. “You don't know what's going on in my head.”

“You're right, I don't because if I did, I would know how to make this right.” Eames sighs. “Arthur, I know I should have told you. I was going to. But if I did how would I explain it to you? If this is how you'd act?”

“Then why did you do it in the first place?” Arthur shouts rounding on him again, frustration building.

Arthur is dimly aware that the guards are looking their way, speaking in low tones to each other as they reach for their radios and the guns at their sides. This isn't how Arthur works. He doesn't have arguments in public spaces. He doesn't shout nor get angry in front of people he doesn't know. But right now all pretense of composure is gone and Arthur is very close to punching the man in front of him.

Eames says, “well yes, it was stupid of me, but I figured you wouldn't know. I was going to tell you—”

“When?” Arthur asks sharply. “When Mycroft finished extracting all the information he could out of you because you erroneously thought he was hiring you to do a job?” Arthur breathed in deeply, rubbing his temples. He did not need this right now. He needed to get back to his hotel where he could curl up on the sofa and sleep and forget all about tonight. “Just. Leave me alone Mr. Eames.”

“No.” Eames replies.

Arthur's eyes snap up to him. He's about to say something when the other man continues. “Not yet anyway. Just... Let me take you somewhere. I promise. It's maybe twenty minutes away.”

“No,” Arthur replied coldly. “I—”

“Arthur?”

Arthur turns at the voice. How did he not notice the footsteps behind him? Had he been so caught up in the argument that he hadn’t heard Dom’s distinctive shoes? He turns and is surprised that not only is Dom there but Saito as well (had he really been that distracted?). The two are standing side by side, with Saito gripping onto Dom's elbow. Eames is quickly at Arthur’s side, a hand coming to grip his elbow in a mirror image of the couple before them. Arthur stiffens at the realization and is about to shake his arm away when Dom speaks.

“Did you two finally make up?” Dom asks. “Ariadne was worried.”

“Yes well as I told Ariadne, she didn't need to worry,” Eames says, interrupting Arthur.

Dom stares at the two of them and for a moment Arthur is convinced that Dom knows that Eames is lying but his expression clears and he actually smiles.

“Good,” Dom says. “You two work better together than apart.”

“I’m sorry to cut this short.” Saito’s lips quirk into a small smirk which lets Arthur know he isn't sorry at all. “But we have a reservation.”

“Of course,” Eames nods, once again cutting off Arthur's chance to reply. “We'll let you get on your way.”

They're turning to leave and Arthur is turning to Eames, glare already in place when suddenly Dom asks, “do you need a car? I brought mine but I won't be needing it.”

“That sounds lovely,” Eames says.

Arthur is just about to scream when Saito interrupts this time, handing over a familiar set of keys in Eames' hands. “I'll have someone pick up the car in the morning. You can text me the address of where you two are staying later Mr. Eames.”

And with that the couple is gone. Briskly walking into the lobby and out the main doors where Arthur is sure a limo or some other chauffeur-designed vehicle is waiting for them. Arthur wants to smack his head into the nearest wall. How could two people be so blind? He is almost positive he was glaring at them all equally in turns. He sighs and is lamenting his poor choice in friends when he remembers the grip on his arm and he pulls away forcefully, glaring at the man beside him.

“You.” He points angrily. “Stay away from me.”

“Arthur, please—”

“No.” Arthur cuts in. “I am not going anywhere with you. Not now and not ever.”

Without waiting to hear the other man's reply, Arthur turns on his heel and nearly sprints out of the room and into the lobby. He rushes out the doors and down the stairs, ignoring the man yelling after him and the dull ache pounding at the back of his head. He walks a few blocks before ducking into an alley where he collapses against the least dirty wall.

Arthur is tired. So fucking tired.

. . .

Ariadne is the first person to call the next morning. He lets it go straight to voice mail along with four other calls from Eames. When he finally gets around to checking to his messages he deletes Eames' and listens to Ariadne's. She is probably hungover and her voice is a little raspy but there is also a great deal of concern heard over the line that Arthur feels obligated to call her back.

“What happened?” Is the first thing she asks. “You were barely there two hours.”

Arthur sighs and pinches the bridge of his noise. “I don't want to talk about it.”

“Well tough cookies, I want to hear about it, so tell me.”

Ariadne's voice leaves no room for argument and Arthur briefly wonders if she's perfected the tone so well that no matter who she uses it on she will always get her way. It's quite possible she learned that trick from Romanov or from his brother.

He sighs. “He was trying to take me somewhere so he could explain.”

“And you didn't let him,” Ariadne says flatly.

“No,” Arthur replies.

“Why not?”

Arthur stops. It's a good question and one he'd also been asking himself since he got back to his hotel room. He shakes his head and shrugs a little before realizing Ariadne can't see the gesture.

“I just don't want to hear it.” Arthur says. “I'm still angry I guess.”

The sound of a palm slapping against skin makes Arthur think Ariadne is doing her best to keep her exasperation to herself which seems a little unfair to him. After all he was the one who was lied to, not Eames. When she speaks again he can hear her annoyance conveyed easily through her voice, “well maybe you should let him explain. It can't hurt, can it?”

Arthur grunts and then proceeds to distract her with questions about the party. She obviously sees through this plan but she doesn't bother calling him out on it and instead proceeds to talk about a British man that had showed up with a pretty blond on his side that seemed to know everyone there and went by the name of The Doctor. Arthur can't help but feel considerably cheered up after hearing the crazy man's antics over a bananas being good for every party.

. . .

It comes as a bit of a shock when it's not Ariadne who drops into his hotel room later that day but Yusuf. He looks amazingly sober for a man Ariadne swore was so hung over she was surprised she didn't find him passed out in his own vomit this morning.

Arthur invites him in and offers the man the little bit of coffee he had sent up to his room. He's packing for his flight back to New York which isn't for another six hours but seeing as how he hasn't brought much to begin with, Arthur has been lounging around in his suite, half-listening to the weather channel as he browses through potential jobs on his laptop.

“How are you?” Arthur asks setting the television on mute.

“Fine,” Yusuf replies. “I'm not as bad as Ariadne made it sound by the way. In fact, she's the one who drank more.”

“I'm not surprised.” Arthur laughs. “After all she's the one with the larger classes.”

“It's not my fault that hardly anyone is interested in the compounds.” Yusuf laments, trying not to pout as he flops down on the couch. “I'm positive Mycroft bribes them into choosing architecture just so he can keep Ariadne busy otherwise she'd probably take over the facility.”

“It'll happen eventually,” Arthur says. “Mycroft can't stop her now that she's in contact with his little brother. He likes her.”

“Yes, yes, I know about that.” Yusuf winces a little, probably at the idea of being so completely at his girlfriend's mercy. “That is not what I came here for.”

“Oh?” Arthur glances at the clock in an attempt to seem as nonchalant as possible. He has a really good idea exactly what this is about and he isn't exactly looking forward to the conversation. Frankly, he's surprised it's taken Yusuf this long to talk to him.

“First I just want to say that I know it isn't my place.” Yusuf eyes Arthur warily. “However I feel it is my duty as a friend to knock some sense into you and by extension Eames who is, by all means a complete and utter wanker.” Yusuf nods at Arthur's slight smile. “I don't understand why he just doesn't tell you in the first place. You're never going to agree to him taking you somewhere. It's a poor idea and you demonstrated just how much by your actions last night.” Yusuf raises a hand to Arthur's open mouth. “No, don't worry, no one saw you. Eames just happened to get drunk and pass out in the seat next to me otherwise it could have been some other hapless soul trying to figure out exactly who the hell Arthur was and why such a strange and attractive man was wailing over another when he could have a choice of anyone at that party.”

“Is there a point here?” Arthur asks, clearing his throat.

“What?” Yusuf blinks. “Oh! Yes, there is. Eames bought you a house.”

Arthur remains silent for about a minute, facial expressions doing something very odd that makes Yusuf smile and wince in turn.

“He did what now?”

“Well,” Yusuf begins. “He bought you three houses. One here in L.A, another in New York and one in London. Although I'm pretty sure both New York and London are just flats or penthouses or whatever you want to call it. They're pretty big and real pricey from what Ariadne's told me.”

Arthur is once again silent during which Yusuf adopts a look of worry.

“Are you all right?” Yusuf asks. “You look a little... peachy.”

“I'll be all right,” Arthur says, surprised to hear the sound of his voice resemble such calmness. “I just need to kill Eames.”

.

After Yusuf leaves, Arthur cancels his flight and spends the next hour debating whether he should call Eames or pull some strings and find out where he's staying. It's not like Arthur doesn't have some idea though. When he and Eames were together in L.A. they usually only stayed in one or two places: the Hilton, where he's staying at, or the Huntley. Still, he feels odd calling up the hotels and asking. Of course it'd be even more awkward if he showed up in person. They knew who he was as well as the company he kept. He sighs and reaches over for his phone, deciding there's only one thing to do.

Where are you staying?

Arthur throws his phone back on the bed after sending the text, and turns back to the television. He wonders if he could still call up the airline and ask them to reinstate his reservation. He scowls at the ceiling and decides that no, he doesn't need the back-up plan. Not yet anyway.

He jumps a little when his phone buzzes with a reply. He hadn't expected such a prompt reply... Then again, it's Eames. Fighting the urge to rush over to answer it, he gets up and walks back to the bed. He stares down at the phone for a moment or two before he reaches out and flicks his screen to life.

1 floor below u.

Arthur gapes at his phone incredulously. He reaches for the hotel phone and asks the clerk to transfer him to the room. By the time Eames picks up Arthur isn't quite sure what he's calling for. He takes a deep breath and tries to steady himself.

“Hello?” Eames asks tentatively

“Yusuf told me everything.” Arthur blurts out. “Why... why didn't you just tell me?”

There is a long silence on the other end and Arthur hears him shuffling, probably wedging the phone in the space between his ear and his shoulder. “It was supposed to be a surprise.”

“It was a shitty surprise,” Arthur replies without thinking twice. “Get up here, we're not having the rest of this discussion over the phone.

.

Arthur looks at the front yard with scrutiny. It's large and the hedges are going to go but they will definitely be keeping the tree. It's a nice tree. He tilts his head to the side, raising his gaze toward the windows and the rest of the house. It looks... good. It's better than he expected from Eames to be honest.

“The inside's empty,” Eames says from beside him. “I thought... Well I thought you'd want to decide on the furniture. For this one at least. We can move your stuff to the penthouse and my stuff to the new flat. Or if you want to burn my wardrobe and the rest of my stuff you can do that too.”

Arthur snorts at the idea and turns to him. Eames looks haggard. There are bags under his eyes and he's still wearing the same outfit from last night which reeks of alcohol but there's a hopeful look on his face and Arthur smiles. He reaches out and pulls him into a kiss.

It's slow and Arthur can taste the mouthwash Eames probably thought to use before rushing up to Arthur's hotel room. Arthur also tastes something else there. Something familiar that reminds him of tea and rain. He moves in closer, pulling away to rest his forehead against the other mans, and inhales. He missed him.

“It's good,” Arthur says.

“Good?” Eames echoes uncertainty.

“Yes.” Arthur replies. “Not amazing. But... good. You should have told me. We could have gotten something amazing.”

Eames huffs a laugh. “Well. The penthouse is amazing. I made sure I had your brother help me pick that one out. Ariadne and Yusuf helped me with the flat in London but this one... This one was different.”

“Why is that?” Arthur asks.

“Because... this is our first hom—place together. Officially. The others are what I'd like to call... back-up.”

Arthur pauses, rolling over the word the other man has tripped over. He can feel Eames tense up beside him, probably wondering if Arthur had heard. Arthur nods slowly. Home. He turns to the house and reaches down to slip his hand into the other's. He nods a little more firmly this time.

“Home,” Atthur says, feeling the word roll over his tongue. He turns to Eames and watches the slow smile sweep over his features.

“Home it is then,” Eames says.