Chapter Text
Arthur checked through the messages on his phone whilst Eames was in the shower the following day. There wasn’t much of note. A couple of job offers, most of which he’d missed due to not checking his messages. One which wanted a reply by the following day, Arthur would have to talk to Eames before deciding whether he would take it. He didn’t need the money, but maybe Eames would want to work a job together?
He froze when he saw that he had a missed call from Cobb. What could he want? He’d made it pretty clear that he didn’t want anything to do with Arthur. His finger hovered over the call back button when Eames came out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel.
Arthur’s mouth went dry and he dropped his phone to the duvet.
“Everything alright, Darling?” he asked. Arthur smiled at him and pulled him down into the bed. He forgot about the call from Cobb.
…
They took the job. Arthur flew out to meet the team in DC, setting up the warehouse and starting the preliminary research, whilst Eames headed to Seattle to tail the mark and his mistress on their romantic week away. It was routine, and Arthur was in a good headspace now that he had a regular dom who actually knew how to look after him properly.
Things were fine for the first few days. The team knuckled down to get on with things. The Architect had been in the business for a few years, and had a few decent jobs under her belt. The Chemist was a little green, but had been highly recommended by Yusuf. The Extractor, Jesse, was old hat. He’d worked several jobs with Arthur and Eames in the past, both separately and together, and they’d always had an easy working relationship.
The trouble came when the Architect suggested they had Eames, as the mistress, put the mark into subspace and order him to talk.
“It doesn’t work like that,” Arthur had informed her. “We have no way of knowing what kind of contract the mark has with her, and it’s highly unlikely that he would discuss his business plans whilst in subspace.”
“What would you know about it?” Jesse asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re a neutral, how would you know what a submissive would be willing to discuss with their dominant.”
“I’m not a neutral,” Arthur corrected, raising an eyebrow. “Besides, it doesn’t take a genius to know the basics.”
“You’re not a neutral?” Jesse asked, gaping at him. “No, tell me Arthur the point man isn’t a submissive? I’ve worked with you for years, no way would you be able to hide it.”
Arthur merely raised an eyebrow.
“Who’s your dom then? Is it someone we know? They’d have to be in dreamshare, no way a sub would be able to hide this job from a partner,” Jesse rambled.
“What makes you think I have to have a dominant?” Arthur asked, annoyed at the line of questioning.
“If you’re a submissive, you have to have a dominant. Come on Arthur, you’d be a mess if you weren’t put in subspace regularly.”
The Architect and the Chemist both paused in their work, peering at him with interest.
Arthur huffed. He was sick of the assumption that Dom’s didn’t need to scene just as much as subs did. Why did everyone assume that a sub couldn’t handle life alone, but ignored the violent rage Dom’s went into if they hadn’t gone into headspace in a while. “I thought we were discussing the mark. Why is my personal life suddenly so interesting to you?”
“Forgive me for being nervous of putting my mental wellbeing in the hands of an unstable submissive,” Jesse said.
“Unstable?” Arthur asked, frowning at him, trying not to let his anger show. “Jesse, you’ve worked with me multiple times. Have I ever done anything to make you question the ability to do my job?”
“Well, no,” Jesse allowed.
“Then we’re done discussing this. I am no more unstable than the rest of you,” Arthur said. “I’m going for coffee.”
With that, he grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair and stormed out of the warehouse. He hated being questioned in such a way. He had spent years building his reputation as the best point man in the business, to have it questioned purely based on his status as submissive made him ridiculously angry.
He paced outside the coffee shop, trying to calm himself down. He only succeeded in making himself angrier. If he went back to the warehouse like this, Jesse would think his point of view had merit. He fished his phone out of his pocket.
There was another missed call and a voice mail on it from Dom. Growling, he deleted the voicemail without listening to it, and called Eames.
“Hello, Darling,” Eames cheery voice greeted. Arthur felt the anger drain away at the sound of his voice alone. He sighed and leant back against the window of the coffee shop.
“Hey,” he muttered.
“Is everything okay, Darling?” Eames asked, concern entering his voice.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I just wanted to hear your voice,” he said, cheeks warming a little in embarrassment at the admission.
“Darling,” Eames said joyously. “I miss you too, you know?”
“Yeah?” Arthur asked. He was still a little insecure about their relationship. His friendship with Dom had dissolved so suddenly, that he was scared to trust what he had with Eames.
“Of course, Darling. Four days apart is far too many, wouldn’t you agree love?”
Arthur huffed a laugh. “I feel ridiculous for missing you so much.”
“Ah, well. We’ll be ridiculous together at least,” Eames said. Arthur smiled into his phone. “Now then, love, why did you really call me?” Eames asked, perceptive as always.
Arthur sighed and ran a hand through his gelled hair.
“I let slip to the others that I wasn’t a neutral. They were making a stupid suggestion for extracting the mark based on the fact that he’s submissive, and well, I told them they were being stupid and… Jesse now doesn’t feel like I am capable of doing my job.”
“Jesse who called you no less than six times in two days begging you to take this job because he didn’t trust any other point with it?” Eames asked with a growl in his voice.
“The one in the same. Its fine, I put him in his place. I escaped to get coffee though so I wouldn’t hurt him on principle.”
“So, you don’t want me to come over there and punch him for you? Because I will love, though I know you are perfectly capable yourself,” Eames offered.
Arthur chuckled. “No, it’s fine. Thank you though. I just wanted to hear your voice to calm myself down.”
“Did it work?”
“Yes,” Arthur easily admitted. “Thank you.”
“Always a pleasure talking to you, Darling.”
“I’ll speak to you tonight?” Arthur asked. They had been checking in every evening, Eames giving Arthur details he had learned from his day spent watching their mark, before dissolving into general chit chat. This often ended in Eames describing exactly what he was going to do to Arthur at the next opportunity, and Arthur moaning in a wanton mess on top of his duvet.
“Of course, Pet. Enjoy the rest of your day.”
Arthur hung up and bought coffee. Feeling calmer, he headed back to the warehouse.
No one said anything on the subject for the rest of the day. But Jesse started again the following day.
“Arthur, I want you to go into sub space before we do the job,” Jesse said, out of the blue into the silent working space.
“That’s none of your business, Jesse,” Arthur refuted, not even bothering to look up.
“It’s the law that you go into sub space every week, Arthur,” Jesse insisted.
Arthur could have got him to shut up by telling him that it had only been five days since he last went down, or that their fifth team member who would be landing in a day’s time was his dominant, and therefore Arthur was likely to spend most of his evenings in subspace once he arrived. But it was the principle of the matter.
“We’re criminals,” he pointed out. The most childish reason to object to subspace, he knew, but also the most satisfying. Their Chemist coughed to cover a laugh at the comment, and Arthur decided right then that he liked him.
“That’s no reason to object to it!” Jesse cried out.
Arthur finally looked up from the tax records he was currently trying to decode to meet Jesse’s eyes.
“It is none of your business, Jesse. If you don’t have something to contribute to the job, then leave me alone. I have work to do.”
“You have to take care of yourself, Arthur.”
“What makes you think that I don’t?” Arthur asked.
“That’s your third cup of coffee this morning. You never eat, that I can tell, and you’re always the last to leave. Do you ever even sleep?” Jesse asked.
Arthur looked down at the mug in his hand and frowned. Great, the idiot had drove him into drinking coffee like it was water again. Eames was going to be pissed. He wondered briefly if he could convince Eames not to punish him, that dealing with Jesse was punishment enough.
Probably not.
“I eat,” he said, “just because I don’t do it in front of you doesn’t mean it isn’t happening. And of course I sleep, I’m not a robot you know. I’m the last to leave because that’s my job, and I have more research to do than the rest of you.”
“Jesse, come on man, lay off him,” the Architect said.
Arthur shot her a grateful smile as Jesse threw his hands in the air and stalked off.
Arthur came back from the bathroom the following morning to find a bacon sandwich on his desk, and Jesse studiously ignoring him from his own desk.
Arthur pushed the sandwich to the edge of his desk and got back to work. He’d eaten a full English breakfast only an hour ago under Eames’ careful video messaged eyes, he couldn’t stand the thought of eating more bacon.
The scraping of a chair drew Arthur out of the data he was reading and he tensed up as he heard Jesse approach. He hated that this man he’d worked with for years had suddenly decided he couldn’t handle himself all for a slip of the tongue. Bloody dominants.
“Arthur, eat,” Jesse commanded, standing behind him.
Arthur forced himself not to tense up, he couldn’t show him that this was bothering him.
“No thank you,” Arthur said, continuing to tap away at his computer, purposefully ignoring him.
“Look Arthur, I don’t want to push you. But you need to go down. I’ll help, if you need me to,” Jesse said, like it was a completely reasonable suggestion. If they worked in a legitimate business, Arthur would have reported him to HR days ago.
Arthur pushed his chair back and turned to face him, showing him the full force of his glare. He felt somewhat satisfied when Jesse took a step back. He raised his eyes brow, wondering if he’d suddenly remembered Arthur’s reputation.
“If you don’t stop, Jesse, then I will walk away from this job. I will call Eames, and he will take me at my word that he should walk too. You’ll be left high and dry,” Arthur said calmly.
“I’m just trying to look out for you Arthur, you need someone to look after you,” Jesse insisted.
“No, you’re being bull headed. Just because I don’t bow to your every wish, or follow your expectations of a submissive. Do you really think I’d have lasted this long in the business, if I had no control over my submission?” Arthur asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Good morning, my wonderful people,” a familiar English voice said as the door to the warehouse shut.
Arthur felt the tension that had been building since they parted melt away. He pushed away from Jesse and turned to greet his dominant.
“Mr Eames,” Arthur said cheerfully, offering him his traditional smirk.
“Arthur, Darling, did you miss me?” Eames asked cheerfully, reaching out to clap him on the shoulder. They had had this discussion. They would remain professionals in the workplace, or as professional as they had ever been (what with the teasing each other and light hearted arguments). No need to give anyone any ammunition against them.
“Whyever would I do that?” Arthur wondered.
Eames didn’t answer, moving to Jesse’s side and holding out his hand. “Good to see you again, Jesse.”
“Hello, Eames,” Jesse said, accepting the hand easily, no hint of the anger he’d had in his voice for Arthur. “How’ve you been.”
“Oh, so, so,” Eames said cheerfully, before turning to introduce himself to the rest of the team.
The team gathered and spent the rest of the morning pooling the knowledge they had gained over the past week and putting together the beginnings of a plan. It was lunchtime before they broke up.
Eames got up and stretched. Arthur was unable to look away from the flash of skin at his stomach that was revealed. Eames caught him looking and winked. Arthur ducked his head to hide the blush he knew had spread across his cheeks.
“I’m famished. Arthur, would you care to join me for lunch?” he offered.
“Why not,” Arthur said, shrugging casually as he stood and dropped his notes back on his desk. He could feel the surprised eyes of his team members on his back as he walked out of the warehouse, Eames at his side.
They walked in silence until they were out of sight of the warehouse, then Eames caught Arthur’s hand and spun him around so that he could press a kiss to his lips. Arthur kissed him back, moulding himself to Eames’s chest and letting him support his body weight.
“Hello love,” Eames said as he pulled away, smiling down at him.
“Hi,” Arthur said, feeling shy.
Eames reached a hand up to trail his fingers across Arthur’s cheek. Arthur sighed and pressed into the touch.
“What do you need, love?” Eames asked softy.
Arthur hummed, basking in Eames’ touch for a moment. When he didn’t reply, Eames tapped him gently on the cheek.
“Arthur, I asked you a question,” Eames said, the indulgent smile on his face belaying the sternness of his tone.
“I need to submit,” Arthur admitted, biting his lip. He hated going down when they were on a job, especially in the middle of the day. But needs must. “The way Jesse has been acting this past few day’s…” he trailed off, not quite sure how to explain.
“Alright then love, I know just the place,” Eames said, stepping back and holding out a hand for Arthur to take.
He was pulled along the streets half a step behind Eames until they came upon a small café. Through the window, Arthur could see squishy armchairs and an array of brightly coloured rugs and cushions littering the floor. A handful of people were inside, some sitting in chairs, and other’s kneeling at their feet.
A little bell rang above their heads as they entered the room and a woman wearing an apron approached them with a frown on her face.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “But we only cater to dominant/submissive partnerships in here. It’s a safe place, you see. There’s a Wendy’s on the corner.”
Arthur ducked his head and shrunk away, already somewhat in headspace. He hated doing things wrong. A remnant of his time spent with the nuns in his childhood. Eames squeezed his hand gently and he instantly felt settled. Eames was here, he’d fix it.
“Hello love,” Eames said, smiling his best charming smile at her. “I know he looks very well put together, but my Darling Arthur here is having a bit of a rough day at the office, and asked if I’d take care of him. You wouldn’t turn him away, would you?”
The waitress’s eyes widened as she looked at Arthur again and took in his nervous posture and averted eyes. “Oh, my, I’m so sorry. Of course, of course, come in,” she said apologetically, stepping back and allowing them entrance.
“Thank you ever so much,” Eames said, smiling at her. He let go of Arthurs hand and reached up to squeeze the nape of his neck instead and Arthur felt himself sink deeper into headspace, safe in the knowledge that his dom would be there to catch him. “Come along, Arthur.”
Eames led them over to a plush arm chair in the corner of the room.
“Let’s get you more comfortable, darling,” Eames said, stepping behind Arthur and slid his jacket from his shoulders. He hung it on the back of the armchair. “Give me your arm,” Eames instructed, and Arthur held it out, breathing steadily as Eames undid his cufflink and rolled his sleeves halfway up his wrists. Arthur would deny it if asked, but he always found having his shirt sleeves rolled up far more comfortable that being buttoned up stuffily.
“There now,” Eames said, sitting down on the armchair. “Now Arthur, take your shoes off and put them under the coffee table. Then I want you to pick a cushion and kneel between my legs.”
“Yes, Mr Eames,” Arthur breathed out, sinking to the floor to unlace his shoes. He placed them neatly where asked, then moved to kneel on a bright orange cushion between Eames’ spread legs.
“Good boy, Arthur,” Eames said, running his fingers through Arthur’s gelled hair. Arthur relaxed further at the words and the touch, lolling forwards. Eames caught him and pushed him back upright. “You may lean on my knee, Arthur, if you cannot hold yourself up.”
“Thank you, Mr Eames,” Arthur said gratefully, turning his head slightly to rest his forehead against Eames leg.
He let himself drift then, with Eames’ fingers in his hair and the background noise of other customers. It was the most settled he’d felt in his own skin since they’d caught differing flights from London.
He was vaguely aware of the waitress speaking to Eames, but didn’t really register the interaction until something was pressing at his lip. He whined questioningly, tilting away slightly only to have a hand at the back of the neck catch him and pull him forward again.
“Drink, darling,” Eames instructed, and Arthur’s mouth fell open on instinct, like it was second nature to obey to Eames’ commands. The straw was placed back to his lip and Arthur closed his mouth around it, sucking obediently. His mouth flooded with the taste of strawberries and banana and his eyes fluttered open to see what it was. A smoothie. “Good?” Eames asked.
“Yes, Mr Eames. Thank you,” Arthur said gratefully. He didn’t remember ever telling Eames that he liked smoothies. But Eames did seem to know everything there was to know about him without even trying.
Eames smiled at him and reached for his own drink, a mug of tea. Arthur watched him drink, content to bask in the presence of him.
The waitress came back with a plate of sandwich fingers, placing them on the table next to Eames. “Thank you, love,” he said to her.
“You’re welcome,” she said. “Listen, I’m sorry again for almost turning you away. It’s just, he really didn’t look like a sub when you first came in.”
Eames laughed and waved a hand as if batting away the apology. “Don’t fret, love. Arthur here takes pride in confusing people in that regard. He doesn’t like the way people’s attitudes change towards him, just because he is a submissive. I’m certain he’d take it as a compliment.”
“Society sucks, doesn’t it?” she asked, rolling her eyes.
“That it does,” Eames agreed, squeezing the back of Arthur’s neck again as if to assure him he was still there.
“Well, if you need anything else, don’t hesitate to asked,” the waitress said, finally retreating back to the kitchen.
“Now then Darling, what do you say to getting some food into you, hmm?” Eames asked, turning his full attention back to Arthur. Arthur basked in it.
“Yes, please Mr Eames,” Arthur said, smiling at him. He wasn’t especially hungry, but it made Eames happy to see him eat, and he liked to please Eames.
“Good boy,” Eames said, and Arthur shuddered at the praise.
Eames picked up a sandwich and held it out for Arthur. He took the bite sized piece into his mouth and pressed a kiss to Eames fingers as he closed his mouth. Eames bopped him on the nose for his trouble.
Eames took it in turns, feeding Arthur a bite, and then himself, until all of the sandwiches were gone.
“Full?” Eames asked, stroking a hand though Arthur’s hair again, maintaining contact with his sub. Arthur hummed in agreement. “Want to come up here?”
“Cuddle?” Arthur asked, eyes bright and hopeful.
“How can I say no to that face?” Eames asked, reaching his arms out for Arthur. Arthur hopped up, and allowed Eames to pull him onto his lap sideways so that his head was tucked under his chin and his feet dangled over the side of the armchair. Eames pressed a kiss into the skin behind his ear before settling so that they were more comfortable.
“You’ve been so good for me these past few days, Arthur,” Eames said, stroking a hand up and down his ribs gently. “I’m proud of you. After the shit I heard Jesse giving you when I walked in. Back in the day, you would have decked him.”
“Not worth it,” Arthur huffed, coming a little more coherent after their scene. He closed his eyes and snuggled closer. “Though, he’s probably going to out me to the entire community now.”
“Screw them, if they can’t see past their own stereotypes,” Eames said, pressing a kiss to his forehead.
Arthur sighed. “Yeah, okay.”
“Good boy,” Eames said. Arthur tried to ignore the happy flush that swooped through him every time Eames said those words to him.
They sat there for another fifteen minutes, content in each other’s arms. Eventually, Arthur extracted himself from Eames’ arms, pulled his shoes on and went to the bath room. When he came back out, Arthur the Sub was gone, replaced with the sharp angles and stern gaze of Arthur the Point Man.
Eames did his best not to feel disappointed at losing the soft, loose limbed and happy partner he’d had in his arms only moments ago. He’d see him again in a few hours, after all.
“Ready to go put the wrath of God into that team of ours?” Eames asked, standing up and stretching lazily.
“Lead the way, Mr Eames,” Arthur said, smirking at him. Eames was going to kiss that look off his face later.