"One cone for Yusuf… one for Ariadne… one for Cobb… and one for me."

Arthur stares him down expectantly, waiting. But Eames pretends not to notice his expression and begins licking greedily at his large four-scoop mint chocolate chip ice cream cone.

"Eames," he says huffily, crossing his arms.

The forger had proposed to buy them all two scoops of their favorite ice cream in celebration of another successful job. He hadn't wasted any time in bolting out the door as soon as they were awake and had returned in mere minutes from the corner ice cream shop with Yusuf who was helping him carry the four cones.

But by the time the cone distribution had ended, Arthur was empty-handed. Eames had "forgotten" to buy him one, but in reality he's very aware of his… oversight.

"What's wrong, Arthur?" Eames replies innocently, smirking from behind his little tower of ice cream.

He plays innocent, which is what gets to Arthur the most. He stands up from his lawn chair and moves over to thwack Eames across the arm. As a result, Eames nearly loses the entire cone of ice cream to the floor. He pretends the smack and the near fiasco never happened and clears his throat, continuing his mocking charade.

"Oh, did I forget to buy you one? Well, you know, as luck would have it, they made a mistake at the ice cream shop and gave me twice as many scoops as I asked for." His shit-eating grin is digging into Arthur now, who's ready to throttle him at any moment. "And we just happen to like the same flavor of ice cream, don't we? So if you're hungry, then I suppose we could share… I mean, it's technically yours, too."

Eames gives one last dramatic, long lick over the top scoop before holding it out to Arthur who makes a disgusted face and moves away from it before settling down at his desk in the far corner of the warehouse.

"Are you sure?" Eames calls after him, sounding disappointed. "I don't have germs."

"Arguable," Arthur replies and Eames rolls his eyes. So Eames walks over to him and, when he arrives, leans forward onto the point man's desk, holding the ice cream out in front of him.

"Come on. Have a lick. I feel bad." He doesn't.

"I'd rather n—Hey!"

Arthur jumps up in a jolt that shocks Eames into full attention, watching him carefully. But Arthur is only transfixed by a spot of mint green on his gray vest. The glare Eames receives is one of death; there's no mistaking it.

But it's fleeting, which is a relief, as Arthur returns his attention back to his suit and wets a finger to try and wipe off the ice cream that has dripped there.

"You waited too long," Eames tells him. "You should have eaten some before it started melting all over the place."

Another death scowl. Eames just smirks back, taunting.

Finally, Arthur gives up on the slightly dark, wet spot on the fabric and pretends to ignore Eames and return back to his paperwork… only to find that more of the mint ice cream had dripped onto some of the files.

"Eames, I swear to God…" His hands clench into fists on the desk and he takes a deep breath. "Get that ice cream the hell away from me."

"I can't help it, Arthur!" Eames insists as green drops fall onto his hand. "It's four scoops tall; I'll never be able to finish it in time just by myself…"

He probably could, but he doesn't tell Arthur that. Eames licks the ice cream off of his hand, waiting for a reply that doesn't come.

"If you don't help me, it'll get over everything..." he continues between licks, "mmm, it tastes so good, too."

Arthur still doesn't reply, but he does move over to where Eames is standing and begins to lick the side of the top scoop.

"Bloody hell, Arthur," Eames gasps at his eagerness, moving in with his tongue to eat it, too, his eyes struggling to tear away from what Arthur's doing to what he should be doing.

"Move it closer," the point man orders, trying to pace himself so he doesn't get a brain freeze. "Or let me hold it!"

"So demanding all the time. You know you can relax, darling; the job's over."

"Shut up," Arthur says anyway, though his lips curl into a wide smile.

At one point, tongue meets tongue in the first scoop and Eames is the one to withdraw.

"What's the matter?" Arthur asks, pulling away with a sly grin.

Eames really has no way of describing it—how things are going exactly as he'd hoped—but it doesn't matter because Arthur doesn't give him the opportunity to say anything. He pushes Eames down onto his desk chair and straddles his lap full out, the ice cream cone separating them, wobbling dangerously. He highly doubts Eames just really wanted to eat the ice cream anyway.

One of Arthur's hands pulls Eames's cone hand forward a bit, holding it completely still so that he can lower his head to give it a suggestive lick. When Eames, still taking it all in, doesn't immediately join him and just stares, Arthur dips his thumb in the green and rubs it over the other man's lips.

Eames sucks Arthur's thumb clean of the ice cream before licking his lips clean slowly, sensually—never taking his eyes off of Arthur, who continues to lick at the tall cone, brown eyes at careful attention as he pulls his hand away from Eames's face.

They're down to three scoops now. Eames's head is buzzing from brain freeze and arousal, but finally he leans in and meets Arthur for a sloppy kiss above the top scoop. Bending over slightly, Arthur accidentally dips his chin into the dessert and gasps from the sudden cold, pulling back from the kiss at once, nostrils flaring in irritation. It amuses Eames to no end when Arthur gets flustered.

"Let me get that for you," Eames offers simply, reaching up to lick the ice cream slowly off of Arthur's chin. Arthur doesn't make it easy for him, though; really makes him reach, lifting his chin nearly so far up that Eames has to strain for it, but when he's done Eames is rewarded with a kiss.

"Dammit, Arthur, don't tease," he admonishes in false exasperation, returning to the melting ice cream before them. If they weren't careful, it would certainly drip onto more of Arthur's clothes. Then Eames would never hear the end of it…

Eames's free hand reaches back behind Arthur's head to hold it still as he bends it forward, licking at the same scoop as he. But Arthur's eyes aren't on the ice cream, they're on him and Eames feels his body go suddenly warm.

The point man's hands gently, thoroughly explore Eames's head, neck and chest before working their way down to his thighs. Eames nearly chokes on a chocolate chip when he starts to work inward on them, and gives Arthur a chiding glance that, naturally, is ignored.

Now Arthur's playing innocence, but Eames won't be beaten at his own game…

The younger man attempts to kiss him through the ice cream again as they begin their second scoop. Eames would love nothing more than to toss away the ice cream now and fast-forward to something sexier, but Arthur has him firmly anchored to the chair and seems to be enjoying the ice cream in a way that could be classified by an outsider as "too much", but Eames prefers to see it as very hot, and therefore, perhaps they don't need to get rid of the ice cream after all.

"After this," Eames says between licks and kisses, nodding toward the ice cream, "we're heading back to my place. Immediately, no questions asked." Something flickers across Arthur's expression, but Eames tries to keep him enraptured in a kiss so that he can't comment or argue about it. He only needs moans and the quick, careful working of Arthur's tongue to convince himself that the other man agrees.

But Arthur does eventually pull away, looking him seriously in the eye.

"Eames, after this," –he drops his gaze to the ice cream —"I have to go."

Eames just stares at him. "What?"

Arthur runs his hands down Eames's chest gently as he speaks, avoiding his eye contact. "I'm wanted for another job," he confesses quietly. "They want me to be in Sydney by tomorrow; it pays well."

"You never told me."

"It never came up."

"Arth—" but he's silenced by a kiss, one that's commanding and demands Eames's full attention.

Arthur pulls away after a moment, his eyes darting to the ice cream. "It's melting," he announces when Eames tries to protest his leaving, and so the two of them go back to licking at the ice cream (and each other).

Eames is holding Arthur on top of him by the hip now (one hand still holding the ice cream cone, of course), while Arthur holds him by the shoulders, hands every once in a while ghosting back in the direction of Eames's crotch.

Arthur shifts himself upward to get more comfortable atop him, one hand holding Eames's ice cream hand so that he can reach the dessert and the other trying to work to unbutton his pants.


Eames can't stop the jolt that goes through his body, the pure excitement and pleasure as he tosses his head back and smiles. But unfortunately, with his hips and the gesture, his arm goes flying upwards, too, sending the ice cream falling all over them in a messy mint and chocolate cascade.

After a small beat of silence where they just stare at the mess and exchange a glance with one another, Eames just laughs. He can't help himself, despite everything.

Arthur flushes madly, withdraws his hand faster than lightning from Eames's zipper and leaps off of his lap, mumbling something about finding them a towel. The front of his pants is dripping with green and chocolate, but so is Eames's and he just can't bring himself to feel too bad about it. It was just so unfortunate—a funny story, really.

"I bet you'd taste nice with a little bit of mint on you," he says bluntly when Arthur returns, reaching out for him.

"Well, I'm not in the mood now," he hisses, jerking his arm away and roughly tossing a towel at Eames's chest before dabbing frantically at his own pants.

"You have got to be kidding me. That fast? Get back over here and let me put you back into it."

Arthur smirks a little despite himself and he goes from uselessly cleaning his pants to wiping down the floor and picking up the discarded cone. Eames watches him closely as he drops it in the small waste basket, just holding the towel throw at him by his side.

"The ice cream's gone, Eames, and I wasn't kidding about what I said before. I really have to go." His smile's sad, but once again, Arthur's avoiding him, gathering up his things hurriedly. "But we'll see each other soon."

"You mean that you'll actually keep in touch this time?"

"Hmm…" Arthur says absently, so noncommittally it's frustrating, "Maybe."

And Eames rises, traps him against his desk with an arm on both sides of him and gives him a hard, passionate kiss. Arthur accepts it, smiles into it, and though it's bittersweet, it's their goodbye kiss until next time.

The end!

Alternate/Extended Ending:

From ten feet behind them, Cobb, Ariadne, and Yusuf continue to watch, bewildered, eyes wide, and wonder what the fuck just happened.