“I think it’s fitting that you’re exactly what he’s after in his weird Game of Thrones fantasy,” Eames said as he stared at Arthur who was sitting on a gilded throne on top of a raised stage for him to make all his grand proclamations, and extract the codes for the mark’s bioweapon laboratory.
“You do know that not every medieval style fantasy is Game of Thrones, right?” Ariadne asked. She had absolutely built the throne room and castle off of Game of Thrones, but there were parts of real castles in there too.
“It’s all nerd to me,” Eames said.
Ariadne opened her mouth to argue that Game of Thrones was one of the biggest TV shows around and not just a nerd show, but Arthur cut her off.
“Why aren’t you just forging the king, you’re the extractor.”
“Just be yourself. High and mighty with a stick up your arse and he’ll eat it up. Besides, since I’m the extractor on this job I have dungeons and vaults to explore, I can’t just be forging willy-nilly,” Eames said with a grin.
“Did you just say willy-nilly?” Arthur asked, rolling his eyes.
“Does that not please your highness?” Eames asked, making a production out of bowing low. Ariadne laughed at Eames shot her an approving grin and wink. “If I kiss the ring will I get pardoned?” As much as Eames was enjoying watching Arthur try to get used to the idea of being at the center of the dream, not just the carefully observer from the side, he could also admit that there was something about seeing Arthur in a crown that pushed just the right buttons for Eames.
He had been halfway in love with Arthur for years with nothing happening between them so he was used to the aimless sexual frustration that came about whenever they worked a job together. Usually that presented in their constant bickering. This time it had resulted in Arthur sitting above him, glaring down from on high in a plush looking doublet and a crown that rested on hair that Eames insisted had to be as wavy and soft as Arthur’s own hair. He likes hair he can run his hands through, Arthur, gelled back isn’t exactly the perfect way to do that. It didn’t matter that Eames had been entertaining himself with thoughts of running his hands through Arthur’s hair and using it to pull him into a kiss. This was for the job.
“No,” Arthur shot back, pulling Eames out of his thoughts of whether or not King Arthur was as hot as the Arthur in front of him. He doubted it.
“Maybe I should kiss somewhere a little more creative,” Eames said.
The music started but it wasn’t loud enough to drown out Arthur’s austere “Maybe you should,” nor Ariadne’s surprised laugh.