Arthur was no stranger to pain. He knew it well and had lost his fear of it a long time ago. There had been more than a few bullets dug out of his extremities and torturers were always inordinately fond of knives. That didn’t even bring into account the fact that he couldn’t remember a time when he didn’t have a headache. One of the few real doctors who worked in dreamshare had assured him that it was probably just a mix of stress and the somnacin that never got completely out of his system and not a budding tumor.
He was on his way back to his desk, fresh mug of coffee in hand when his tolerance was put to the test. It was a burning pain like someone had taken a torch to his brain combined with the impossible sensation of his brain both compressing and being on the verge of exploding out of his skull. It made his knees buckle and somewhere in his mind he was aware that he had dropped the mug and his leg was burning.
Even after the initial bust that had taken him by surprise Arthur could still barely stand or comprehend what it was that Ariadne was saying. He opened his mouth to talk but was sure that no real words came out. Ariadne's expression twisted into something more concerned. She pulled him out to her car and in the quiet and relative safety of it Arthur passed out.
When he came to in the late afternoon Ariadne was sitting in the desk chair of his hotel room watching him lay on the bed.
"I'm fine," Arthur bit out. His voice sounded too loud, it hurt. "Go back to work."
"Arthur, what's going on?"
Arthur wanted to answer her but he couldn't. There was still a throbbing pain in his mind that made it difficult to think clearly and explaining why he was in pain was going to take more effort than he had in him. "Just go."
She got the determined look in her eye the same way she did when she argued with an extractor about the best layout of the maze.
"Please. I'll explain later."
For a long drawn out minute, though Arthur wasn't really sure of his grasp on time with the way his head was spinning, Ariadne started at him but eventually got up and walked to the door. "If you're one minute late to work tomorrow I will find you."
"I know. Thank you."
Thankfully Ariadne was a better friend than Arthur deserved and she shut the door quietly behind her. Arthur stood up slowly and went to turn off the light of the room and grab his phone from where she had dropped it on their way in. Carefully he tucked himself back into bed and tried to remember whom he had dreamed with in the beginning.
Back when Dreamshare first started there was a side effect that no one really understood until it was already too late. The somnacin from those first few batches worked a little too well and had formed a permanent bond between the dreamers. There weren't a lot of people left on the planet that were around for those days of dreamshare, not even Dom had been that early to the party.
Mal had been though. That was the last time that Arthur had felt the burning pain that made his vision white out. Arthur's mind went immediately to Eames who was in Madrid last he had checked and who he desperately wanted to be alive. He couldn't let that be his first call though. If Eames was alive and he hadn't felt it then he'd want to know why Arthur was calling and Arthur knew his brain wasn't up to playing Eames's games until he had a clear plan or the pain subsided.
Instead he called Miles. The phone only rang twice before Miles answered it. "Hello?" The tinny sound that came out of the speaker sent a new shot of pain through his head.
"It's Arthur."
"Thank God." Miles sounded pained too. "It's Arthur," he said away from the phone. "Colette says she's glad you're not dead."
"Me too."
"Who else is there?" Miles asked.
"That you dreamed with?" He had to think longer than usual and it was starting to frustrate him. The stupid confusion that these stupid headaches cause always wore on him the most. "Just Bobby and Eames."
Miles hummed then was quiet for a moment before speaking again. "I hope Eames is okay. I never liked Bobby."
"Me either. I'll let you know."
"Thank you. And tell Ariadne I said hello when you see her. I don't think Dom's passing on the message."
"I don't think she takes his calls."
"Smart girl."
"I'll text you."
"Good."
Arthur hung up and took a deep breath. The silence and darkness of the room let his brain rest and it almost subsided into a normal amount of pain until he started to call Eames and had to think again.
The phone rang four times, each tone sending a wave of anxiety through him that only made his pain worse. Finally the line connected. "Arthur, to what do I owe the pleasure?"
Just the sound of Eames' voice sent a wave of relief through him. "I need you to come to Daytona."
When Eames spoke his voice had dropped. "Are you hurt?"
"I'm fine. Bad batch. Need someone to hold the dream."
Eames was quiet for a long time to the point where Arthur thought about hanging up. He did need someone but he didn't need Eames necessarily now that he knew he was alive. "Do you remember what wine we drank in Paris last year?"
"I'm fine. Are you coming?"
"Email me the details."
"Thank you."
"Feel better, darling."
Eames hung up.
Luckily for Arthur they were coming up to the end of the job and he had been preparing a last full run down of their plan when the pain had hit. He added the attachment to the email and sent it to Eames. Finally he was able to lie down and get some sleep.
When Arthur woke the pain was overwhelming but less than what it had been. He could put more than two thoughts together and the pain-induced nausea was mostly passed, though the sight of a bagel at the coffee shop made his stomach turn again and he opted for tea.
True to his own promise Eames appeared in the rental house in Daytona fifteen hours later.
The whole team had been on edge since Arthur had walked in that morning without mentioning Eames or the day before. Ariadne had asked him if the pain was better, he said it was which wasn’t a lie but it wasn’t gone. If the past were any indication the pain was would be a step short of intolerable for a week and then be a nuisance for a few weeks after.
When Eames walked in the whole team seemed to relax and Mei looked at Arthur with a grin. “Always a plan. No wonder they call you the best.”
Arthur just nodded.
“I work with you much more and I will get spoiled,” she said.
“That feeling fades,” Eames said. He came up to them with Ariadne at his side and he eyed Arthur carefully. Not the way he did when he was watching a subject for a forge but like when he looked at something he didn’t like but couldn’t figure out the flaw yet.
“You liar,” Ariadne chimed in. “You love working with Arthur.”
Eames gave her a side eye that could put reality TV stars to shame. “I love the payday that comes with working an Arthur job.”
Ariadne hummed like she didn’t believe him but said, “Who doesn’t?”
“Don’t you have plans for me to memorize?” Eames asked.
“Yes. Just one level,” she started as she walked away. Eames followed her to the other side of the room and started to look through the sketches and CAD model.
Mei looked back to Arthur. “Will he have time to get it right?”
Mei has never worked with Eames and considering he had walking in in a tucked in bowling shirt that Arthur was fairly certain he had pulled out of the ninety-nice cent bin of a thrift store it was only logical to question him. “He’ll be fine.”
“What about you?”
“I’m fine.”
She gave him a flat look but turned away and back to her own information about the mark.
And they were all fine. The job went off without a hitch; Arthur kept watch topside during what should have been the mark’s therapy session. Right on time everyone but the mark came up and Arthur gave him a second dose of the sedative to keep him under while they got away from the building. The information was delivered to the client and not ten minutes later the wire came through. All according to plan.
Arthur was back at the house wiping for prints when the front door opened. In one motion he ducked behind a wall and pulled his gun, training it to the front of the house. “It’s just me, darling,” Eames said as the door shut. Arthur stepped from behind the corner and Eames tossed a small white bottle at him. Arthur caught it in the hand that wasn’t still holding his gun. Ibuprofen. “You could have told me," Eames said, coming into the kitchen and leaning back against the counter.
“Miles or Ariadne?”
Eames shook his head. “Don’t get angry at her. She was worried. Perfect infallible Arthur passing out in her car from pain she didn’t understand. She also figured you had told me and that’s why I had come.”
Arthur wanted to be angry with Ariadne but he couldn’t find it. He had been avoiding her since Eames had come and he knew the two of them had gotten close ever since Fischer. He also hadn’t discouraged the friendship; there were worse people than Eames in dreamshare to befriend.
“Who was even left?” Eames asked when Arthur didn’t respond.
“Bobby. You never met. Hit his wife a few too many times. His kid shot him,” Arthur explained. “No evidence that it was a clean up.”
Eames nodded. “Good.” He had that tone that he used when he was getting ready to steer the conversation exactly where he wanted. Asking questions he already knew the answer to for an advantage. Arthur couldn't figure what advantage he was grasping at. “Now tell me why you called me for real. It was only a two level dream and not a terribly complex job. Mei could have held the second level and extracted.”
“It was cleaner.”
“To bring in someone at the eleventh hour. I don’t think so, tell me.”
“Roll call.”
A smile pulled at Eames’s face until he had a smug grin. So that’s what he wanted. “You were worried about me.”
Arthur would have rolled his eyes but it might have set off another shock of pain so he just turned away. “Don’t flatter yourself. You weren’t my first call.”
Eames laughed and Arthur smiled back at him. “It’s okay. I’ll let you call Miles first.”
“Thanks.”
Eames smiled then looked around at the house. “Sit down. I’ll finish.”
Arthur opened his mouth to argue but Eames grabbed the towel out of his hand and grabbed a second pair of gloves out of the case.
“I’ll drive you to the airport after, just take a nap or something.”
“I’m fine.”
“Sure you are. Go.”
Arthur didn’t go to the couch or nap. Instead he sat at the kitchen table and before long was zoned out, his eyes barely open. That was the other problem with his feelings for Eames, it made him think Eames could keep him safe and he didn’t need to be on guard for anything but Eames. He supposed after fifteen years of knowing each other they had earned the right for a little trust.
After a while the puttering around the house stopped and Eames came to sit down next to Arthur at the table. Arthur opened his eyes and looked at him. They had worked together long enough that even though Arthur couldn’t read behind the masks he knew when Eames was wearing one and now with concern in his eyes he wasn’t bothering with one. Arthur might have been less thrown if he had pulled a gun on him.
“Don’t die on my anytime soon,” Arthur said.
“Don’t want your head to hurt again so soon?”
“Well that too.”
“Are you admitting you want me to be alive?”
“You have your uses.”
“I could have a lot more,” Eames said with a wink.
“You don’t actually want me to accept.”
“So I’m just flirting for my health?” Eames asked, laughter in his voice.
“You flirt because you can’t help it.” Arthur stood from his chair and rolled out his neck. It was time to go.
Eames looked up at him with a flat, unimpressed look. “When was the last time I flirted with Ariadne?”
Arthur was sure the pain-induced confusion had passed but at the question his mind went blank. He scrambled for any evidence to support the conclusion he had come to years ago but when he thought of Ariadne and Eames’s interaction it always had a tone that veered closer to a older brother teasing than a flirt.
Eames stood up and patted Arthur on the shoulder. “Be safe and try not to miss me too much.”
It spurred Arthur into action. His hand darted out and curled around Eames’s wrist. Eames turned to him was a satisfied smirk. “Really?”
Eames laughed. “Yes.”
It was all Arthur needed. He leaned forward and captured Eames lips as strong arms came around to wrap around his waist and pull him close. Eames hair was soft in his hands and he kissed thoroughly but without any of the pattern of someone with a plan. It felt natural, like they were supposed to be there.
When they broke apart Arthur chased his mouth and chaste kisses came after each other while they caught their breath. Finally they stopped and just held each other. With careful determination Arthur didn’t think about the consequences or the pain throbbing in his head and just let himself feel the warmth of Eames against his body.
“Darling?”
Arthur hummed in response.
“Where are you headed next?”
“I have a ticket to LA.”
Eames was quiet for a while. “Me too.”
“Your ticket was to Fez,” Arthur countered.
“Not anymore.”
Arthur leaned back so he could see all of Eames’s face. “Is that how you woo everyone? Just follow them to the other side of the globe?”
“I only ever wanted to woo you, darling.” He kissed Arthur again.
“I suppose you could come take care of me while my head gets better,” Arthur said with a grin.
Eames grinned at him. “I prescribe lots of bedrest.”
“If you say so.”
A few hours later Eames put him in bed as soon as they were inside Arthur’s LA apartment, though the rest part of the order was quickly forgotten.