Title: No Reason To Be Jealous
I obviously don't own it. I hope the real owners will forgive me, though...^^
Arthur watched Eames over the top of his cup of coffee. "Now will you tell me what this is all about?" He asked, sighing.
Eames looked up from his untouched plate, shooting him a look that was downright hostile. "Since when are you drinking coffee? Wouldn't that be an act of rebellion, to exchange your morning cup of tea for latte macchiato?"
"It's half past six; and I haven't slept all night, because someone decided to pull a hit and run on me," Arthur replied tiredly, sounding as annoyed as he felt. "Just spit it out, Eames, I'm really not in the mood for any more games right now."
"You aren't? Shame," Eames drawled, stabbing at his pancake with a lot more force than necessary. "Well then, why don't you go back to your tidy little world, Arthur? Or better yet, catch the next plane for Paris; I'm sure there's someone waiting for you in the city of love." His words came out so bitter it was a wonder he hadn't already choked on them.
Arthur frowned. "I don't follow… oh, wait – you mean Ariadne…? Eames, you know perfectly well that that's just ridiculous!"
"We are close, but not that close. She's a friend, for heaven's sake! Every straight girl is entitled to a gay best friend, so why can't it be vice versa?"
Eames fixed him with a look that told him exactly what he thought of that notion. "You're bisexual," he stated.
Arthur threw up his hands and almost knocked over a glass of orange juice. "You make that sound like a bad thing."
"It is to me." Eames replied. He reached across the table, capturing Arthur's hands in his and holding onto them so tight it almost hurt. "It is to me, when I want you to be mine. Entirely. Exclusively. No girls involved."
"I am not involved with Ariadne!" Arthur fumed, forcibly jerking his hands free. "Besides – I never ask about your female acquaintances either, do I? For example that blonde you so love to impersonate, I'm sure there's an interesting story to that one…"
"She's just a random girl I met somewhere. Go tell me that about Ariadne."
"Why do I have to repeat myself? She's a friend. A friend, Eames. Like Cobb and Mal. I do not want to have sex with her, I do not want to date her, and I do not want to spend the rest of my life with her. And you know why?" Arthur fixed him with an intense, almost burning gaze.
Eames looked back at him, surprised by this sudden outbreak of passion in a man he knew to be the very impersonation of reason and restraint.
"Because I'd love to do all of the above with you, you idiot! Preferably in exactly that order, but if it's got to be either, so be it, I'll take whatever I can get with you."
The Forger's chin dropped and his fork clattered onto his plate, splattering maple syrup all over the tablecloth.
"You're not serious," he whispered.
"Do I look to you as if I was joking?" Arthur was almost screaming now. He stood up, nearly toppling his chair, walked around the table and caught Eames by the front of his shirt, roughly pulling him up from his seat. "I am dead serious! And you better believe it or else…"
He would have finished his sentence with a dire threat, but his supply of air was abruptly cut off as Eames claimed his lips in a passionate, hungry kiss.
"That's a lot better," Arthur panted, once Eames let go of him in order to catch his breath. "Oh… and by the way, Eames…?"
The Forger raised his eyebrows.
Arthur pointed at his cup. "That's Wiener Melange*. Latte macchiato is served in glasses."
* A note for those of you who aren't from "Old Europe" - Wiener Melange is a special coffee blend similar to cappucino, but somewhat classier, since it calls to mind all the morbid charm of Vienna. You don't drink it for the taste, it's more about what's associated with it. Therefore, it's the perfect drink for our somewhat snobbish Arthur...