This story was written for a friend for a prompt she posted on the inception_kink meme : "Arthur sets his work computer password to Eames69 as a bit of a joke, since no one would ever know. One day Arthur is home sick from work and Eames calls him up because he needs the plans for the project they are working on. Arthur reluctantly tells him his password so that he can get the plans...Teasing/disaster/true love etc ensues :D authors choice!"

I changed her prompt slightly but I still thinks it works quite well!

Reviews are always lovely and greatly appreciated!

Faint light filtered in through the blinds and Arthur felt powerless to let it hit him in the face. Arthur's head felt like a train, no, two trains had run over his head simultaneously. Blood pounded behind his ears and eyes making it impossible to see, the pain too crippling. They felt swollen. When he did dare peer behind crusty eyelids everything was bleary and filmy, his room danced and swam and everything took on a slightly green color.

His body was much too heavy, limbs tingly from not moving but feeling they weighed a ton each and no matter how many blankets he piled on top of himself he couldn't stop his teeth from chattering. They chattered so hard he thought they would fall out of his mouth.

He had emptied his medicine cabinet and had taken everything and anything relating to cold and flu. He didn't know what THIS was but it was the quickest, meanest, and nastiest thing that had ever taken hold and crippled his body.

It had taken all his energy to get up to go to the bathroom, relieve himself and take the pills. Now he lay panting in his own sweat as the room spun. He spied his cell on the nightstand and slowly, agonizingly rolled his limp body over to it. He felt he would vomit at any moment at the exertion but he finally managed after what felt like an eternity to brush his fingertips to the phone and bring it in bed with him.

He felt he only closed his eyes for a moment but when he chanced opening them it was much darker.

The room spun and he coughed back a gag. He was having a hard time possessing thoughts.


He had never missed work since teaming up with Dom but even the thought of getting out of bed made him want to be sick even more.

He groaned and closed his eyes, fingers grappling for the cell next to him. He fumbled with buttons until he thought he heard someone's voice. He brought the phone to his ear numbly.


"Mmm?" was all he could manage out.

"Arthur, we've been trying to get a hold of you all day are you alright?"

His stomach was doing cartwheels and his body started shaking.

He released what he hoped was a "No" into the phone.

He heard Dom talking but he couldn't even begin to listen or comprehend much. He could only groan as the shivers racked his body.

"Can't…" he blurted out. "Can't…come in…"

"Arthur you sound like death. Just take it easy, buddy…"

He tried so hard to zero in on Dom's word but sleepiness was tugging at him, gloriously drowning out any nausea or pain.

He told himself he would just rest his eyes for a bit. When he regained enough consciousness he uttered: "Don't tell Eames."

He didn't hear a response so he let the phone slip from his fingers hearing a loud crack as it hit the hardwood floor.

He tried desperately to bring the covers tighter around his body, giving up halfway, feeling too weak to continue and let blackness swallow him up.

It's nothing, he's just sick.

But they had tried him for hours, both of them pacing the warehouse floors, leaving deep tracks and trying hard to hide their panic and then Dom barely gets two words out him before he hangs up and Eames is grabbing his coat, taking off before Dom can protest.

The air is cold horribly cold. It singes his lungs and nose hairs as he hails a taxi. Light snow collects on his jacket as his much too quick breath expels out before him in rich huffs.

It's nothing, he's just sick.

But it isn't nothing because Arthur is never like this and him and Dom know this without saying a word. If it wasn't for the severity of the job and how deep they all were in it they both would just say: "fuck it" and abandon it. But they can't. Arthur is the only one that had access to the plans and his computer is encrypted with a password. But now he's sick or…

He can only think that Fredrick's men had gotten to him, caught wind of the extraction they were planning in a week's time.

Panic has traveled up his spine, working it's way into his gut and he's smoking a cigarette out of pure nervousness before he knows what's happening. He can't put two thoughts together. He somehow manages to get a taxi, swallows down his nerves, throws his cigarette to the cold concrete and gets in.

He picks his lock.

He left in such a rush he forgot his keys.

He had actually nicked Arthur's keys one day and had ran and made a copy at lunchtime. He had slipped them back in his coat pocket before he even knew they were missing. He prided himself on such a job well done, knowing the keys would come in handy at a later time. Well, they weren't helping him now. It was kind of ironic in a way yet extremely frustrating, thinking he was wasting precious time. Focusing on the anger with himself actually helped him not focus on how scared he felt.

He gets the door open but knocks too.


He knocks a little louder to no response. Some of the panic he felt earlier rises to his throat, almost chocking his words.

"Arthur, I'm coming in. It's Eames."

He steps in hesitantly, like a coward, so afraid of what he may find.

He takes a shuddering breath and secures the door behind him.

His flat is dark, curtains drawn. He runs his hands around the walls feebly for the light switch.

Once he finds it he blinks as his eyes adjust.

He had dreamt about coming into his flat many, many times but not like this, not in this scenario. He couldn't take in and enjoy the surroundings he could only think of his well being.

"Arthur?" he yelled.

He searched his flat systematically like he was doing an extraction, thinking he would find him sprawled out on the floor somewhere.

He fumbled around in the semi darkness, tripping over things, finally finding and flipping a light and saw that he was laying half on the bed, white sheets and blankets twisted around his flushed form.

"Arthur…" he breathed.

He came to his side at once, sitting on the bed.

He hadn't reacted at all to the light being thrown on or his weight being depressed into the mattress.

Panic peaked in his brain as he took in Arthur's form-so frail, limp, skin translucent and completely slicked with sweat.

He maneuvered his body so that he was lying on the bed properly. Arthur's body was scalding hot and trembling and his eyes were rolling in the back of his head.

He put both shaky hands hesitantly on the sides of his face.

He leaned in and brought his face close to his.

"Arthur? Can you hear me?"

Arthur made a noise, deep from the back of his throat and his eyes rolled again.

"Arthur, it's Eames." He came in closer and his shoe brushed something on the floor. He looked down and saw that it was his Blackberry. It looked like the battery came lose like it had fallen. That explained him not answering.

He circled his thumbs into his feverish cheeks not liking how pale yet flushed he looked, the deep circles under his eyes, his dripping body.

Worry had taken over his mind and he was up and walking into what he hoped was the adjoining bathroom frantically looking for something, not exactly sure what. He made himself stop and take a couple slow, deep breaths. His heart rate had slowed maybe a smidge enough for him to rifle through the drawers more properly noting the opened bottles and packs of medicine lying around. That brought on new panic as he noticed that there were medicines for different things, they shouldn't be mixed.

He found the thermometer and flew to Arthur's side. He sat, perched right alongside him, cradled his head and forced the thermometer in. He wiped sweaty hair out of his eyes with his other shaky hand as he waited for the thermometer to give the results. He kissed his forehead and murmured something soothing to him, maybe saying it was going to be ok but really he had no idea. He prided himself on being cool, calm and collected at most times but the thought of Arthur being indisposed put his life in a tail spin. He couldn't think.

The thermometer beeped and he gently took it out of his mouth.

He stared at it stupidly as it read: 105 degrees.

Shit, oh shit…shit…

He couldn't breathe, wind feeling knocked out of him. Arthur made a noise of discomfort that brought him back to his senses.

He ran back to the bathroom and drew the tub, letting the cold water run. He fished out his cell phone as he ran back to Arthur's side. They both were panting but Arthur was still trembling.

He picked up on the second ring.

"Cobb! Arthur's…Arthur's sick. He has a high fever, 105…I don't know..I don't know...," he couldn't complete his thoughts and his words came out in a jumble, running together as he gripped his hair in frustration and panic as he sat on the edge of the bed, practically rocking back and forth.

"One hundred and five is bad but I don't think we need to get him to a hospital just yet and really we shouldn't. Fredrick's men are out there and even if you use aliases…" he sounded panicked as well. Everything had just gone to complete shit in a matter of 24 hours.

"I know, I know, I know," Eames found himself saying. He absentmindedly put the back of his hand to Arthur's searing forehead and winced.

"Give him a fever reducer, plenty of liquids, maybe draw an ice bath….just keep an eye on him. If he gets worse take him." Dom seemed at his wits end. Someone had to finish the job though or else they consequences could be fatal.

Eames was nodding.

"He may have taken too many pills," his voice was too strained, too high pitched.

Cobb released a slew of curses.

"What did he take?"

"Shit if I know! Some flu and cold medicine, aspirin too maybe," he practically barked out.

"Fuck…just fuck," Cobb breathed heavily into the phone. Eames imagined him pacing the warehouse, hand on his head.

"I would come with you but someone's got to finish. Fuck. You're going to have to make him vomit it up just in case, fuck…" another long silence. "We still don't have the password either. He didn't give it to me earlier when I phoned. Christ."

Arthur was moaning in the bed besides him and Eames instinctively stroked at his arm, hoping it would bring a small comfort-to him or Arthur he wasn't sure.

"You're going to have to try asking him…"

Eames shot a look to him: his sprawled out form, moaning, and eyes fluttering. There was no way…

But he had to try. He put his phone down on the bed and inched towards him.

He couldn't believe the heat coming off his frail form just by hovering over him.


He waited but there was no response. He took his limp, slick face in his hands, tried to get him to look at him.

"Arthur. We need the password to your computer. It's very important." He tried to keep his voice even and low but it cracked despite his best efforts.

Arthur's head twitched slightly at his voice and Eames took that as a small victory.

"Arthur, can you hear me?"

He groaned.

"Love, we need the password," he was practically begging now. They could guess all day and have no idea. Eames was ok at hacking but it still would take too much time. They would definitely need to rethink things for next time. If there was a next time…

Eames brushed his forehead to Arthur's-the incredible heat licking at his face. He stupidly thought the close contact might help, all other options exhausted.

"Arthur," he breathed. "Love, please. What's the password to your computer?"

When he didn't hear a response he exhaled a shaky breath and closed his eyes. That was it then. They were doomed. They would have to pack up and…

"Eames," barely a whisper

Eames' eyes flew open upon hearing his name.

Arthur's eyes were still closed and his chest was working too fast. Eames could feel his rapid heartbeat in their close contact.

"Yes, love. It's me."

He twisted his head a little to the side on the damp pillow, his cracked lips parting.

"Eames…" he repeated.

Eames took his hand. "Yes, I'm here. Can you hear me?" he searched his face stupidly but he was not coherent, probably just babbling from the drugs and high fever.

"2002," Arthur breathed out wheezily.

"2002? Love is that the password?"

Eames reached behind him and grabbed his phone, wondering if Cobb was still on.

"You still there?"


"Try 2002."

Cobb must have been right at Arthur's computer because Eames heard him typing.

"Nope. Fuck, knowing him it wouldn't be that easy…"

Eames traced a finger down Arthur's clammy face and breathed out in defeat.

"Did he say 2002?"

"Yeah he did," he was searching his frail form again.

"Why would that be significant?"

Eames was going to try one more time, try to ask him when it hit him.

Eight years ago. They had met eight years ago in 2002. But surely that wasn't it…

"Love. Is the password 2002? It didn't work. What's the password?"

Arthur's eyes fluttered and he took on an even greener color though his cracked lips looked like they were trying to work.

Cobb was asking him something but he shushed him.

"Eames…2002…" Arthur sighed.

Was that it? Eames sat frozen. Certainly his password for his computer wouldn't be his name and the year they met? He was delirious, must be.

Eames blinked several times, cleared his throat, tried to get a grip on the situation.

"Umm, try Eames2002," he breathed into the phone. The second it was out of his mouth he wanted to take it back or apologize. Certainly he wasting their time. But he heard Cobb typing away.

There was a pause as both men clearly didn't want to say the obvious.

"It worked," Cobb said after what felt like forever, sounding mystified.

Eames was looking at Arthur, mystified as well.

"Oh, good," was all he managed to say.

"Eames…" He knew that tone.

"Cobb, I have no idea so don't ask me," he barked out.

"Right. You gonna be ok or?"

Eames was already scooping up a non responsive Arthur in his arms.

"Yeah, I got this. I'll let you know if he gets worse….Just get the plans. Get the shit done and I'll worry about Arthur."

They huffed out some worried, breathy goodbyes and Eames tossed his phone on the bed when they hung up. He scooped up Arthur, detangling him from the many damp blankets and sheets and carried him to the bathroom. He sat him on the toilet and stopped the water in the tub which was now full, the icy cold making him wince.

Arthur could barely sit up and he practically slid off the closed lid. Luckily Eames caught him before he met the floor. Arthur made some heaving noises and Eames was able to quickly get him off the toilet so he could wretch inside of it. He felt very lucky that they were already in the bathroom when Arthur decided he needed to vomit. He smoothed back his damp hair as he deposited his stomach, not liking that he dry heaved after he didn't have anything left. He held his thin, trembling shoulders, as he spit in the toilet, groaning, drool and other things dribbling from his lips.

He carefully placed Arthur's face on the toilet seat and was reaching for a towel when he heard a choked sob.

That made him pause. He turned around a little scared.

Fat tears were sliding down Arthur's face and his body was shaking as he cried.

Eames got on his knees and drew Arthur into him, heart racing. Arthur's head lolled on his shoulder as he continued to cry, gasp and sputter for air.

"Love, it's ok. It's alright now. I got you." He rubbed at his back, the thin material of his pajama shirt damp from sweat.

Arthur's body shuddered in his arms, his chest heaving as he cried. Eames felt powerless then to let him and to hold him close, not knowing what else to do.

"Shhh, it's ok. It's all out of you now. You'll feel better."

"Love…love you..." he thought he heard him whisper.

Eames stopped rubbing at his back, stunned. Clearly, again he was delirious.

He managed to reach up to the sink and grab a towel. He wiped at Arthur's mouth and sweaty face. He smoothed away some of his hair and planted a kiss on his forehead.

Arthur's crying had petered out and his breathing was slowing.

He murmured reassurances into his hair until he calmed completely.

Once he was still he helped him to his feet which proved difficult.

He had no strength when Eames tried to get him to stand; he wobbled and nearly fell a few times.

Eames half carried him and propped him against a wall, keeping his hands on his burning shoulders.


Arthur's head would only loll and his closed eyelids would flutter, still too unresponsive.

Eames remembered what worked last time. He leaned in, keeping a steady hold on him and came in right by his face, noses practically touching. His breath was foul and he smelled to high hell but he didn't care. He needed his cooperation, wanted him to know at least somewhat what he was going to do.

"Arthur," he breathed. "Sweetheart, listen to me. It's Eames. I'm going to put your arms around my neck now. I need you to hold on. I'm going to take your pajamas off so you can get into the bath. You have a bad fever, sweetheart. We need to get your temperature down." He thought the exercise of telling him maybe was pointless but just like asking him for the password it was worth a shot.

His mind went to the password then and a ripple of affection ran through him. They would have to talk once they got through all this. He wasn't going to let Arthur get out of it. He grinned.

Arthur shifted his head a little to Eames' direction and made a noise.

Eames came right up to his ear.

"Sweetheart, can you hear me?" He grasped at his hip and put Arthur's arm around his neck.

"Arthur can you hold onto me?" He did the same with his other arm and thankfully by some miracle of God he felt Arthur interlock his arms and apply pressure, however weak it was.

"There's a love," he started unbuttoning Arthur's pajama shirt as Arthur weakly hung on, his body swaying slightly. He was groaning and babbling something incoherently.

Eames almost laughed.

"It's just like you to wear pajamas that have buttons don't you? You always have to be so constricted, so closed off," he managed to unbutton his shirt and started working on his pants.

He had dreamed about undressing him, imagining what it would be like to do it slowly, touch and kiss his skin as he did so, really reveal in it and take his time. He definitely never imagined it would be like this. He furiously undid buttons and moved away damp cloth as quickly as he could, not in the least bit romantic. He worked his pants down and he half carried a babbling Arthur to the closed toilet seat. He removed him of his pants, keeping a grip on his shoulder and moved to his shirt.

Arthur slid forward unexpectedly and knocked into Eames' forehead with a crack, the surprise almost sending him backward.

"Ow! Bloody hell, Arthur!"

"Love you," he babbled.

Eames released a little sigh. How could he be mad at him when he clearly was not of the right mind and saying things like that?

Eames righted him, blushing a little, rubbing at his forehead and went about removing his shirt.

"Tell me again when you're awake, hmm?" he smiled a little.

When he got him stripped down to his boxers he paused and he wasn't sure why he was pausing.

He wanted to maintain his modesty but he couldn't put him back to bed with wet underwear. He was going to see him naked one way or another. Given the situation he figured Arthur wouldn't mind too much. He would want him to do the same to him if the situation ever called.

He got him up and pressed him against the wall once more. He murmured the same instructions as earlier and through struggles Arthur eventually did as he asked and hung onto him.

He tried to be as polite about it as possible and tried not to look as he worked his boxers off. He scooped him up into his arms once they dropped to his ankles.

The worry returned when his much too hot, naked body was pressed up against him.

Once the cold water hit his foot Arthur had a shit fit. He clung to Eames and started crying out, shuddering.

Eames tried to sooth him but every time the cold water would hit him he would yelp, claw at him and thrash about. He was like a cat- feebly fighting and howling protest.

He splashed at Eames as they struggled and Eames was getting impatient.

"Stop, stop, stop," he said lowly.

He continued to thrash in his arms and caught one of his thrashes in the face.

"Arthur, stop it. I'm trying to help you."

Of course Arthur would have some strength when it came to fighting him. He didn't have strength when he was undressing him but fighting him was another matter. That shouldn't have came to a surprise to Eames.

When he got tired of his thrashing and yelling he pressed him to the shower wall, half of Arthur's body in the tub and kissed him, more of just pressing their mouths together but he was getting exhausted and running out of options and really he was tired of hearing him. It was the least most romantic kiss ever and definitely not how he envisioned kissing Arthur for the first time.

Arthur went lax in his arms, the fight out of him and he finally relaxed somewhat.

Eames was soaked by the time he managed to force Arthur into the tub, practically tossing him in.

He yelped and gasped for breath as the icy water hit him full force. His eyes opened briefly and looked around blindly but then he was closing his eyes and shaking violently and Eames eased his head back so that he was lying in the tub. He put a towel behind his head and gently dabbed at his burning cheeks with a damp washcloth.

He had no idea how long he should let him soak. He felt like a new parent. He kept his hand on his forehead protectively, kneeling at the edge of the tub, dripping wet, watching him to make sure he didn't slip under. He rubbed at his arms and throat and murmured some reassurances, hoping he understood.

He talked to him, feeling like Arthur with his babbling. Maybe it was just to fill the silence or to reassure both of them, he wasn't sure.

He checked his forehead every once in a while and eventually he did feel cooler. Arthur was shaking like a leaf when he drew him out but he seemed slightly more coherent and he almost grasped at Eames when he was toweling him off.

He tried hard not to stare at his naked body but it was difficult especially now that he felt that Arthur may not be in imminent danger. He had imagined it and dreamt of it so vividly so many times before. But he couldn't help take him in as he dried him-his milky white skin, lean muscle, long limbs, taut chest, bony collarbone, long neck, the dark curls of his wet hair and between his legs, his pelvis and of course his cock. He found himself brushing his fingertips lightly over some of the areas as Arthur leaned into him.

He was babbling again as Eames reluctantly removed his fingertips from his icy skin and rubbed at his hair with the towel. He had never seen his hair loose before. It was always neat, perfectly combed and slicked back like Cob's. He didn't realize how curly it was until he had gotten it wet. It curled at the ends and it fell so lose that it made him look so much younger, it almost shocked him. He was truly lovely like that.

He carried a violently shivering Arthur back to his bed, Eames leaving behind a trail of water.

He drew the covers tightly over him, tucking him in and contemplated what he should do about his own clothes as Arthur so poignantly got him soaked.

He paced the bedroom for a while watching Arthur as his teeth rattled and his body shook.

"Fuck it," and he stripped.

He threw his wet clothes to the floor and climbed in under the covers with Arthur enveloping his naked body over his, letting him warm up with his body heat.

His trembling and shaking stopped after a while and touches to his forehead showed that his fever was going down.

Eames felt muscles relaxing that he didn't know were clenched and finally felt some relief rush his system.

"Love you," he heard Arthur babble as he hugged him close.

Eames closed his eyes and took in all the scents that were Arthur, the relaxation really crashing into him.

"Love you too," he whispered, planting a kiss at the back of his neck.

He wasn't sure how or when but he found himself drifting off, Arthur's comforting weight pressed against his chest.

Faint light filtered in through the blinds hitting Arthur in the eyes. He blinked his eyes open feeling like his body had been sent through a meat grinder. His eyes took in his bedroom and his mind felt sludgy and slow and he was trying to remember things. His eyes spied his partially open Blackberry on the floor and some of what happened came back to him. He remembered Dom calling and telling him not to call Eames…

Just then he felt something shift next to him on the bed, at his back. His hand immediately went for the gun he kept under his pillow as he cried out in shock and frustration.

He tried to whip himself around but he was slow, much too slow. He trained the gun at the figure weakly and saw that it was Eames' shocked face blinking back at him.

"Don't shoot, darling. It's just me."

Arthur released a low growl of frustration but didn't stop pointing the gun away from him.

Eames was grabbing at his wrist before he knew what was happening, his body almost enveloping him, plucking the gun and he was reaching behind Arthur and throwing the gun away.

He felt dizzy and far away and why was the room spinning slightly?

Eames was rubbing his hands down his arms, shooting him concerned looks. He saw in his doubling vision that Eames was shirtless.

Oh Jesus. Arthur felt that he was naked under the covers. Did he get drunk? Why was he in bed with him?

"You would have a gun under your pillow wouldn't you, love?"

He was searching his eyes curiously.

Arthur half remembered WHY he had a gun under his pillow. Something to do with Fredrick…the job they were working on.

Arthur's eyes went wide.

"Eames?" he blurted out, like he just realized he was in bed with him.

"Yes, love. It's me."

He laid him back down into the pillows, his body too tired and in pain to protest.

"Why are you here? The job…" he managed to spit out after a time.

Eames was lying on his side, elbow propped, hovering over him, smiling faintly.

Arthur tried not to stare at his bare, gorgeous chest, his muscles, chiseled features, his tattoos, his scars. Arthur felt flushed but he knew it wasn't from being sick.

Eames frowned a little.

"That's so like you to be concerned about the job and not your health," he made a "tsk tsk" sound.

"You were sick, still sick…You had a high fever and you had us very worried. I helped you into the tub to cool you down and then since I didn't want you to freeze to death I was giving you my body heat," he smiled crookedly.

Arthur felt his face flush again. He did remember feeling very sick, still felt sick but not as gripping as before. He didn't remember anything and that frustrated him. He also didn't like the idea he was helpless. He also didn't like the idea of Eames giving him his "body heat" but what really concerned him was the job. They had heard rumors through the underground that Fredrick's men were looking for them, catching wind of the extraction they were doing. but since they were already in so deep and the payoff was grand they decided to keep going.

Arthur tried feebly to get up. He needed to get back to the warehouse, relay the plans to Dom…

Eames was gently pushing him back down into the bed.

"Love, you need to rest. You're out of the woods but not out of the forest. You're still sick."

His body felt exhausted after trying to get up. Unfortunately he was right. He breathed out in frustration.

"But you need the plans…"

Eames shot him a sideways glance, almost looking a bit bashful which scared Arthur more than the idea of Fredrick's men coming after them.

Eames never got embarrassed.

"We have them, don't worry." Eames was looking everywhere but his face.

Arthur's heart fluttered and he swallowed hard, tasting something nasty in his mouth.

"My computer is locked with a password."

Eames shot him a look.

Arthur's heart sunk.

"But you already have it…" he breathed.

Eames nodded.

Arthur looked away from him but it was hard, their faces were so close together. He suddenly felt too warm and squirmed under the sheets.

"Arthur…" his voice was too calm, too soothing, too vulnerable.

"Eames, I don't want to talk about it," he snapped.

He was praying to every god and deity that Eames would just drop it but knowing him he wouldn't.

Thankfully, blessedly Eames was silent, which may have been a first for him.

Arthur fidgeted from the silence and chanced a glance to the other man.

Eames was looking out the window, a little hurt touching his eyes and Arthur felt guilt sitting heavy on his chest.

Eames cleared his throat and made a move to get up.

"We probably should get you something to eat…"

Arthur grabbed his bicep, the only thing within reach and weakly pulled him back.

Eames shot him a confused look.

"Don't," Arthur struggled with his words. "Don't go…and Jesus don't make me say it…"

A slow smile appeared on Eames' face and he nodded a little. He settled back into his pervious position but seemed like he was pressing into Arthur a little closer.
Eames was searching his eyes again deeply.

"So why are you still in my bed naked now?" Arthur wanted to break some of the tension in the room.

Eames seemed a little taken aback, nodded a little, hurt touching his eyes again.

"Right" he said after a time. He turned. "My clothes are still wet but maybe I can borrow something of yours…" he was trailed off.

Arthur grabbed at his arm again, pulling him back.

"I didn't say you had to leave. I said don't go," he couldn't hide his blush or smile.


He hovered over Arthur again and touched his forehead with the back of his hand.

"You seem better. How do you feel?"

Arthur's heart was pounding after his touch, leaving his body tingling. It stupidly made him feel slightly better with him fussing over him, touching him.

"Better," he sighed.

Eames reached over him and Arthur tried not to stare at bare skin and exerted muscle, the way the covers slipped further down revealing more delicious skin of his back.

Eames grabbed a glass of water from the nightstand and had something else in his cupped hand.

"Thought you may be thirsty when you woke up so I got this for you before you woke."

Arthur tried to prop himself up and Eames had to end up helping him.

He again was very aware of how naked they both were under the sheets. He covered his lower half the best he could as he relaxed back into the pillow behind him on the headboard.

Eames handed him some pills and helped him with the glass.

He took the pills and guzzled very cold water down. It felt fantastic traveling down his burning throat.

Eames chuckled a little when Arthur finished the glass in record tim.

He really loved ice cold water especially when he was feeling ill.

"Was it ok?"Eames asked as he reached over him and placed the glass back on the nightstand.

"Mmm. I love…"

"Really cold water. I know love," he finished for him, smiling. "Remember I met you in 2002 so I know all your favorites."

The way he said '2002' made his heart flutter. A shared, knowing look passed between them.

Eames was suddenly much too close to him and he saw that slight glimmer in his eye.

"Eames, don't. You'll…"

But then Eames was cupping his face and his soft lips were devouring his. His initial shock turned into pleasure despite his best efforts and he opened his mouth to him. Eames' hot tongue glided over his icy one as he felt the two temperatures mingle. It was definitely a unique, delicious feeling-he was literally sucking out the cold making him shiver. Eames was sucking on his bottom lip after a while and then it was all over too quickly, leaving Arthur feeling breathless.

"Get sick…" he finished weakly, wiping away at new sweat that had somehow formed on his brow.

But Eames wasn't listening; he was helping Arthur lay down again and was tucking the blankets around him. When he was all tucked in he laid on his side towards Arthur, rubbing a hand up and down Arthur's chest making him melt into the bed.

He leaned in and kissed his forehead. The funny feeling that his touch was helping him was swirling inside him, the content feeling almost too much and he almost felt high from their kiss.

"Well, if I do get sick I know you'll be there to take care of me, love," he breathed into his cheek before he kissed it.

Arthur turned to him a little.

"I most certainly will not," he couldn't keep a straight face. They ended up just staring at each other, smiling.

Eames dusted his knuckle to Arthur's cheek.

"What can I get you? Do you need anything?"

Arthur swallowed hard, getting lost in his grayish blue eyes, feeling transfixed.
Somehow he closed the distance between the two of them. Eames was laying down next to him, facing him, one arm over his stomach the other over his head, playing with his hair. He was being way too distracting.

Eames searched his eyes when Arthur didn't respond.


He was finding it increasingly harder to concentrate as Eames seemed to pull him in closer, their naked bodies very close, legs tangling, their noses brushing.

"Yes?" he breathed, his warm breath tickling his face.

"I think I may need another kiss."

Eames smiled a toothy grin.

"Hmm. I thought you said you didn't want me to. You said I would get sick."

Arthur ran his fingers weakly over the other man's torso working his way up to his face, caressing a cheek with his thumb.

"I'll take care of you if you do," it was hard to leave the emotion out of his voice.

Eames breathed out a husky sigh which seemed to be directly connected to Arthur's groin making him ache.

"Well, if that's that case I definitely want to get sick. I would love you nursing me back to health," he pressed his lips to his chastely, a tease of a kiss.

Arthur shivered and found himself pressing in deeper into Eames, wrapping himself around him.

He kissed Eames deeply, longingly, his hand winding in his hair, Eames exploring every crevice of his mouth and tongue. When they finally came up for air he was light headed, hard and never felt better. Eames nuzzled his neck and he could feel that he was hard too.

Arthur groaned.

"Am I allowed to do more than just kiss you to make you feel better?"

Heat surged through Arthur's body and his cock twitched at the thought.

"Oh, yes. You're definitely allowed to do more."

Eames regarded him warmly, brushing his fingertips to his lips.

"I love you," it was out of Arthur' mind and forming at his lips before he could even think.

Eames stopped suddenly and seemed stunned. Arthur wanted to curl up into a hole and die.

There was an awkward moment as both men stared at each other wide eyed. Eames' shock turned into a grin and he searched his eyes deeply, sighing.

"I'm glad you mean it this time. I love you too."

Before Arthur could question what he meant Eames was pressing him into a kiss and all other thoughts were forced out. Eames definitely helped him feel better as he paid his body a lot of close attention.

Thankfully it didn't happen until after they finished the job successfully and were able to escape the city before Fredrick's men could track them or pick up their trail.

Arthur fumbled with his key and the bag he was carrying but somehow was able to juggle them well enough to get the keycard in the slot and push the heavy door open.

He breezed through the hotel suite, flinging the keycard onto the table as he rounded into the bedroom.

He set the bag on the nightstand and took in the other man as he lay bunched under several blankets, his face flushed and clammy, hair sticking up, and a couple days stubble donning his sunken face. He sat down next to him on the bed and swept some of his hair out of his face.

Eames seemed to feel it and he twitched slightly in Arthur's direction. He cracked his eyes open slowly. They looked glassy and faraway.

"Hi," Arthur breathed and planted a kiss to his forehead.

"How are you holding up?"

Eames had been bed ridden for two days but the vomiting finally stopped. Luckily they were in between jobs that Arthur could give him his full attention and nurse him.

Eames smiled weakly.

"Ok. Better if you kissed me."

Arthur knew he couldn't get the nasty strain of whatever it was again and had no qualms with obliging him.

He leaned down, cupped his chin and kissed him deeply, not minding that he tasted particularly nasty. Eames had done the same if not more for him. He would do practically anything for him now.

Arthur brushed a finger down his scalding hot face and they watched each other for a bit before Arthur broke away to climb in under the covers with him. Eames sighed in pleasure as Arthur spooned him.

Arthur kissed the back of his neck, holding him tight, feeling the rhythm of his heart beat and breathing.

"What's in the bag, love?"

Arthur smiled against his neck.

"You'll see when you get better. I have plans for you. Just call it motivation for you to kick this thing."

Eames chuckled a bit which turned into soft snores. Arthur held him close as they both drifted off into a blissful sleep.