Log in

No account? Create an account
10 September 2010 @ 10:02 am
[fic]: kiss the sun at night  
Title: Kiss the Sun at Night

Author: That.Other.Boleyn.Girl

Rating: PG-13.

Genre: Humour/Romance.

Word Count: 2,595.

Disclaimer: No, I don't own them.

Summary: Arthur wants convenience. Eames wants something more. (That is, when he's not trying to get Arthur to sleep with him.) Eames/Arthur, slash, One-Shot.

A/N: No angst in this one. Just fluff, humour, ridiculousness, and banter. trouvemoi, you do realise this is entirely your fault.

Please don't forget to comment!

Kiss the Sun at Night
[This work has been translated into Chinese by vallennox, if you would prefer that over the original English below.]

We made plans to kiss the sun at night

Hopeless dreamers, hopeless types


Arthur flies to Los Angeles.

A subtle feeling nudges into his chest when the wheels touch the tarmac, the clouds streaked in the sky. Arthur’s felt it before, feels it every time he comes back here, obvious but unidentifiable. He’s not sure what the feeling’s supposed to mean.

It doesn’t matter. Arthur takes his seatbelt off.


Eames is reading a newspaper, feet kicked up on his coffee table. At least, this is what Eames says he is doing. Arthur has known Eames long enough to be highly suspicious of whatever ordinary thing Eames says he is doing, because more often than not, he’s not doing it. Eames protests this, vehemently, when Arthur points it out, even though last week Eames stole half a million rupees and told Arthur he was in India solely for the tea.

“Where are you, again?” Arthur says into the mouthpiece, juggling a coffee and the keys to his filing cabinet.

“In my flat, Arthur. I just told you this.”

“What’s the colour of the shirt I left on the bed?”

There’s a pause. Arthur hears some shuffling and then some clicks as Eames adjusts his hold on the telephone.

“Blue,” Eames says.

“Where are you, Eames.”


“I never leave any clothes at your place. Are you even in Europe? Or the Northern hemisphere, at least?”

“That wasn’t fair,” Eames says and Arthur sets his keys down. “That was a trick question; you’re not playing by the rules we set up. You’re introducing deception and dissonance into our relationship. I’m entirely justified in not answering any other questions you have.”

Arthur ignores the rampant irony present in all of that and says, “Don’t tell me you’re in Harare again.”

Another pause.

Are you in Harare, Eames?”

“You told me not to tell you, love,” Eames says. “But the point is that I’m rather damnably bored. Are you working? Would you fly yourself down for me?”

“Down to where?”

“To Harare.”

“No,” Arthur says. He hangs up because Eames deserves it, probably, though by now Arthur’s coffee has gone lukewarm on the bench. He sips it anyway, just to have something to do, waiting for his phone to light up again.

It does, two or three full minutes later. Arthur flips the phone open.

“You’d better have air-conditioning down there.”


There is no air-conditioning, not that Arthur had expected any, rusty ceiling fans squealing over the drone of the flies. Eames is wearing a look that’s obvious by now, eyes lingering on the buttons of Arthur’s vest.

“You,” Arthur says, “are a despicable liar.”

“Oh, come on, darling. Did you expect the Hilton?”

Arthur did, in fact, expect the Hilton. But then again, Arthur had expected Eames to push him away that first time Arthur had kissed him in a motel in Brunei, so Arthur supposes his expectations might be a little off when it comes to Eames.

“Is that an antelope horn on your beside table?” he says instead, shrugging his suit jacket off of his shoulders.

(It’s too hot for three layers of clothing, Arthur reasons. The movement has nothing to do with the way Eames is looking at him.)

Eames is leaning back slightly and his eyelids are low. “Could be.”

“They’re not going to let that through Customs, you know.”

“Yes, I know.” A sliver of Eames’ tongue is peeking out from between his teeth. “I was actually trying to find a rhinoceros horn. It was supposed to be an early birthday present for you, but this was the best I could do. I hope you’re not disappointed.”

“A rhinoceros horn,” Arthur repeats, left eyebrow raised and in the process of removing both of his cufflinks. “It’s nice to see your concept of subtlety hasn’t changed in the slightest.”

“What can I say? I’m the very epitome of discretion.”

“As one would immediately infer from your wardrobe choices.”

“You’re just jealous.”

“Of appearing radioactive?” Arthur says. “Who wouldn’t be?”

Eames is smirking, braced in the door of the motel room and watching as Arthur discards his vest. “You should be thankful. If I dressed up in Zegna or something like that, I’d get pounced on. You’d have to defend my modesty.”

“No, I wouldn’t, since you never had any to begin with, Eames.”

“That’s because I’m too busy trying to steal yours, sweetheart,” Eames says.

Arthur snorts out a laugh.

Eames kisses him.


They stay in Harare for a month, maybe more, Eames reading the newspaper for real this time and Arthur has to shove his feet off the chair to sit down. Eames is sleep-mussed, long trail of dark, tattooed skin where his white cotton shirt hasn’t been buttoned up.

“Fischer’s bankrupt,” Eames says as Arthur reaches for the coffee jug. “Happened yesterday. All over the papers. Here.”

Arthur abandons the coffee for the proffered newspaper. “Bankrupt?”

“That new company he tried to start last May.”

The ink is smudged from where Eames’ thumbs have been. Arthur reads through the article carefully three times. His fingers itch for a notepad, itch for a pen, and he’s surprised when Eames pushes both across the table towards him, sitting back down and rearranging his shirt.

Arthur stares.

“Don’t think it’ll become a habit,” Eames says. “I’m only ever going to play fetch for you once. If you want me to keep it up in the future, you’ll have to pay me, either in small bills or sex.”

“Right,” Arthur says and looks down again. “Small bills it is.”

(But the sex happens anyway.)


Two weeks later and Arthur is in LA for a job, a small one that he took on the side just to break up the monotony of nothing to do. Ariadne is in school. Yusuf is God-knows-where. Arthur decides he doesn’t really want to know about that second one.

“Eames,” Arthur says into the telephone. “I am not flying to Amsterdam just because you want me to suck you off.”

“Of course not, darling,” Eames says. “You’re flying to Amsterdam because you want me to suck you off.”

Arthur can’t quite believe he’s having this conversation. Arthur can’t believe quite a few conversations he’s had with Eames.

Well, not a few.


“I’m working,” Arthur says. It’s raining outside, a neat deluge that sends spray up against the glass windows. “And I only just got here. Aren’t you supposed to be working as well? You were the one who left Harare for that job in Jerusalem.”

“Where I thought about you the entire time, mostly inappropriately, in every single one of the synagogues.”

“Eames. That’s defamatory.”

“And I am never defamatory,” Eames says. “Come on, pet. Just fly over. For a couple of weeks.”

“If you’re so desperate, why don’t you fly over? We’d clock the same number of mileage points.”

There’s a slight pause on Eames’ end.


“Would you want me to?”

Arthur blinks. He stops typing for a second. “What?”

“Would you want me to fly over.”

“It depends on what you’re flying over for. If it’s for general molestation, then the answer is no.”

“What reason should I give you for the answer to be yes?”

“Does the reason even matter?” Arthur points out. “It’s not like you’ve needed my permission to do anything before. You could give me a perfectly respectable reason now, and then fly over and molest me anyway.”

“That sounds like permission to me,” Eames says. “Don’t blame me when I do exactly that.”

“I wouldn’t blame you,” Arthur says. “I’d probably hurt you instead.”

“Always knew you were into rough-house, love,” Eames replies.


Arthur is in the condiment aisle when his phone rings.

“What are you wearing?” Eames asks off the bat.

“If this is another one of your attempts to coerce me into phone sex,” Arthur says, “I’m not biting.” A beat. “Blue shirt, dress pants.”

“Dress pants? In Wal-Mart?”

“It’s my day off,” Arthur says. “And if you can see me, you don’t need to be calling me. You can come over and help me with the shopping list.”

Eames does come over, two minutes later and wearing that half-smirk of his, but he doesn’t help with the shopping list. He helps himself to Arthur’s belt instead, repeatedly. Arthur ends up swatting his hands away more often than he does putting things into the shopping basket.

“Would you stop?” Arthur says after ten minutes, without any real heat. “We’re in public.”

“Exactly,” Eames says and tries again. “I haven’t seen or touched you in almost a month. I need to reclaim my right to sleep with you.”

“What, in the middle of Wal-Mart?”

“I’ll take what I can get. And besides, you gave me permission, so I’m justified.”

“You sound like an oversexed teenager.”

“Prolonged abstinence will do that to a man sometimes.”

Arthur straightens up from the rack of fruit preserves, the handles of the basket tucked neatly into the crook of his elbow. “If you’d wanted to see me earlier, you could’ve just called. Or, better still, just flown over yourself.”

“I wasn’t sure if you’d have wanted that, pet,” Eames says, both of his hands tucked in his jacket pockets.

It’s a hideous jacket. Arthur wants to incinerate it.


“Wanted what?” Arthur says instead. “We’re doing this, aren’t we? We’ve been doing this for almost a year. And every time, it’s been me flying over to you.”

“And I keep hoping that you’ll stay, but you never do.”

Arthur stares. He forgets about the shopping list. “You’re always the one to leave,” he points out.

“And you’re never there when I get back,” Eames says with a shrug, but Arthur knows that he’s being serious this time.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d have wanted that.”

“Well, I do,” Eames says. Then: “We’d better check out.”


They drive home in relative silence. This, Arthur thinks, must be a feat for Eames; that, and the fact that Eames’ hand isn’t sliding up Arthur’s thigh or doing anything else vaguely scandalous. That takes restraint. Arthur hadn’t pegged Eames for that kind of restraint. Trust Eames to break routine when Arthur least expects him to.

They get into the flat without half a word spoken between them, not even when Eames puts the cereal next to the soy sauce in the pantry, the canned peaches next to the baking soda.

It’s not a fight, Arthur thinks. Him and Eames don’t fight.

But it’s a problem that Arthur hadn’t seen coming. He’d always thought him and Eames would just go on, in the same way that they’d always gone on, fucking, flying, taking on new jobs, never staying in a single place for long. There had always seemed to be somewhere else to go. He’d never thought of Eames as a constant, as home.


“Fuck this,” Eames says.

Arthur is making coffee when this happens. He’s so stunned that Eames is saying something at last that he spills hot water all over the mug.

Eames is sprawled out on the sofa and watching a Mean Girls re-run.

“Fuck this,” Eames says again, with more feeling.

“I told you it wasn’t worth watching,” Arthur says, sticking with what’s safe, again. “Switch over to seven. David Attenborough’s on.”

Eames pointedly turns the TV off.

Arthur busies himself in looking for a Chux, pretending he hasn’t noticed Eames getting up from the couch. He looks in all the wrong drawers just to drag it out. Eames pads in bare feet to stand next to the kitchen bench.

“This is stupid,” Eames says. “I didn’t take a six hour flight here to argue with you over something not worth arguing about. If you’d prefer things to just stay the way they are, I can do that. I’ve done it for a year, after all.”

“Right,” Arthur says, closing a cupboard. “Okay.”

Eames looks at him for a moment, then frowns. “That’s it?”

“I wasn’t aware I was expected to say something else.”

“Is this what you want?”

Arthur opens a drawer and the Chux is right there. He closes it again without taking it out.

“No,” Arthur admits. “But I don’t know what I want. I’m pretty comfortable with the way things are right now, but it’s not entirely what I want, no.”

“We could always try and settle down.”

Eames says this like it's a novel idea but Eames isn’t laughing. Eames is being perfectly serious. Arthur opens his mouth, then closes it. The water’s starting to spread over the kitchen bench and is poised to do some serious damage to the Weekend TV Guide.

“Settle down,” Arthur echoes, then clears his throat. “You make it sound like we’re married.”

“We’re not,” Eames says. “Doesn’t mean we can’t pick a city though, Arthur.”

“We have jobs,” Arthur says.

“Other people do too.”

“What’s the point of picking a city if we’re never in it, Eames?”

“It’s not the leaving that I have a problem with, love, it’s the fact that we don’t have a place to come back to.”

“You have your flat in London. And I have my flat here.”

“Exactly. Two apartments. That’s one too many.”

“You want me to move.”

“Not necessarily,” Eames says. “There’s plenty of room for my shirts in your wardrobe.”

“No,” Arthur says automatically. “I object to your shirts on principle. If you don’t want me destroying them on a daily basis, we’re going to have to get you a separate closet.”

“Darling, you destroy them on a daily basis anyway,” Eames says. “I’m still looking for the buttons you tore off the last one.”

“Perhaps if they were a little less heinous, I wouldn’t.”

“I guess I’ll just have to borrow yours from now on.”

“You don’t fit my shirts.”

“I can make them fit.”

“You won’t. If you try, you’re going to sleep on the couch.”

There’s a pause. And then Eames brightens visibly, that sudden smile that always sneaks out of the middle of nowhere and lights sultry and charming all the way up to his eyes. Arthur sucks in a breath.

“Is that a yes?” Eames says.

Arthur lets the breath out, and hesitates.

“I’ll make the coffee each morning,” Eames promises. “And the breakfast. I guarantee not to burn anything.”

“I’m holding you to that,” Arthur says, brows raised. “You’d better deliver.”

At that, Eames’ eyes drop to Arthur’s crotch. Apparently Eames has reverted back to being predictable. The return to routine is comforting and Arthur allows himself the start of a smile.

“Oh, darling,” Eames says with a quirk of his lip, “I always deliver. No need to worry about that.”


“By the way,” Eames says some time afterward, plastered to Arthur’s back on the bed. “You were right. The antelope horn never made it past Customs. I was very upset. I spent hard-earned money on that.”

“Bitch, bitch, bitch,” Arthur says to the ceiling, still a little bit breathless. “All you ever seem to do is bitch.”

Eames smirks. “Give me something better to do with my mouth, then.”

Arthur does.


Arthur leaves for a job in New Jersey a week later and it takes him half a month to complete.

A subtle feeling nudges into his chest when the wheels touch the tarmac at LAX, the clouds streaked in the sky, Arthur’s felt this before. He feels it every time he comes back here, except now he understands what the feeling means.

Arthur takes his seatbelt off.

He’s home.

The End.

A/N: Well, there it is. My first non-angst contribution to this marvelous fandom. I hope it was enjoyable. It was certainly a ridiculous amount of fun to write; I foresee an imminent fluff-binge coming up from me, just because lately, I seem to have angsted myself out.



Please don't forget to comment! If you like what you see, don't hesitate to friend me for future Arthur/Eames; and do check out my other Inception fics!

ze_zebra: pic#98695666ze_zebra on September 10th, 2010 12:10 am (UTC)
Ha, and you have to post this right now, huh?? Is it awfully childish of me to rush it and assure you of the greatness of this piece, even though I'll only be able to read it, like in about 10 hours?? :) (urghh, I used like...)

ABC, her eyelids say.epistolic on September 11th, 2010 04:20 am (UTC)
Hahaha, yes, I seem to have bad timing when it comes to posts. It's not childish, darling - it's extremely sweet. I'm so happy you have such faith in me! Hope you like it when you finally get 'round to it, dear! ♥
- ze_zebra on September 12th, 2010 11:52 am (UTC) (Expand)
- epistolic on September 13th, 2010 12:42 am (UTC) (Expand)
Striginestrigine on September 10th, 2010 12:19 am (UTC)

I-I'll just be over here, cuddling this fic, that all right?
ABC, her eyelids say.epistolic on September 11th, 2010 04:20 am (UTC)
:cuddles you in return:

Thanks, hun! ♥
asfrosteasfroste on September 10th, 2010 12:20 am (UTC)
OOOOH LOVELY LOVELY LOVELY NON-ANGST!!! What a delightful surprise!!! And how DELIGHTFUL THIS WAS!!! Such clever, cute, sweet, adorable, lovely banter!!!

Love it! LOVE IT!!! :)

ABC, her eyelids say.epistolic on September 11th, 2010 04:22 am (UTC)
YAY I'M SO HAPPY YOU LIKED IT! It is/i> so different to the stuff I normally churn out, ha. But I like some good ol' ridiculousness every now and then. And Arthur/Eames can be so ridiculous.

hiko73hiko73 on September 10th, 2010 12:25 am (UTC)
I love that they have a place to go back to, spectacular :)

BTW, if I ever had an Eames like your Eames he would Never be allowed to leave my bedroom.
ABC, her eyelids say.epistolic on September 11th, 2010 04:32 am (UTC)
Thank-you so much, love! And yes, I would chain Eames to my bed, if possible. He'd bitch, of course. But that's part of the charm. ♥
shotgunbette on September 10th, 2010 12:28 am (UTC)
Fluff BINGE!
Fluff BINGE!

ABC, her eyelids say.epistolic on September 11th, 2010 04:32 am (UTC)
Yay! There will definitely be more fluff from me! ♥

Thanks for the comment, darling!
theoriginal_isttheoriginal_ist on September 10th, 2010 12:32 am (UTC)
Oh, oh, oh! This was so adorable and fluffy but still spot on with their characters! I loved the antelope horn and the escapade in Walmart. ::snickers:: And the ending was wonderful as well. Fantastic job. =D
ABC, her eyelids say.epistolic on September 11th, 2010 04:33 am (UTC)
Thank-you so much! Ha, I had so much fun with the antelope horn thing. Eames is really so very obvious. I'm glad you liked the ending, too! ♥
(Deleted comment)
(Deleted comment)
- epistolic on September 11th, 2010 04:34 am (UTC) (Expand)
- epistolic on September 11th, 2010 04:33 am (UTC) (Expand)
perfumaniac: Hardy_smokingperfumaniac on September 10th, 2010 12:43 am (UTC)
OMG! I was completely and totally in love with your writing before when you'd break my heart so beautifully I couldn't help but re-read the stories.

BUT NOW! Now I want more non-angsty romance from you. You're so brilliant it's not even fair <3333333
ABC, her eyelids say.epistolic on September 11th, 2010 04:37 am (UTC)
Gaw, darling! Yes, I figured people would want a break from the angst every now and then, so I decided to indulge. :grin: And writing banter for these two is so fun.

Yes, there is definitely more non-angsty romance coming up! There is a rather ridiculous, self-indulgent A/E one in the works right now, with Eames trying to convince Arthur via dubiously ethical methods to go on holiday. It's a lot of fun.

Thank-you so much for the lovely comment, dear! ♥
arty_darc on September 10th, 2010 12:55 am (UTC)

This was just lovely, dear. Charming and adorable and huggable. Very excited to see more!
ABC, her eyelids say.epistolic on September 11th, 2010 04:42 am (UTC)

I'm glad you liked it, hun! And gaw, you're huggable. :hugs: There will definitely be more!

xcorianderxcoriander on September 10th, 2010 01:03 am (UTC)
Oh, that last line just made me GRIN (and maybe shamelessly giggle a little bit).

This was so lovely and unexpected! Not to mention, there were so many lines in particular that were all sorts of perfect.

ABC, her eyelids say.epistolic on September 11th, 2010 04:43 am (UTC)
Ha, thank-you! I'm glad you liked my attempt at banter/wit. After writing so much angst lately, I wasn't sure if I still had it in me. :grin:

darth_fez: [TW] I'm totally crushingdarth_fez on September 10th, 2010 01:09 am (UTC)
YAYY FLUFF! ♥ Loved it lots and lots.

I can't get enough of domestic A/E :D I think it's my new favourite.

Hope your exam goes well! I should also be assignmenting - it's due tonight, but you posted fic, so obvs. I had to read it.

By the by, it's up to you for meeting place. My latest favourites are sushi from george st or bagels from starbucks. Though if we're meeting at 11am, is that too early for sushi? IDEK.

Mmmm rain :)
ABC, her eyelids say.epistolic on September 11th, 2010 04:46 am (UTC)
I can't get enough of domestic A/E either! Probably because they generally act like they're married, anyway. So it's not too much of a stretch to imagine them bickering in their kitchen.

Exam went great, thank-you! Hope your assignment went well too!

Meeting place? I'm hopeless (like I've said) in the city, so how about we meet at Hungry Jacks and then walk to either sushi/bagels? I'm favouring the bagels idea at the moment, because we can get coffee at the same time. (HURRAH FOR CAFFEINE.) 11am is defs not too early for sushi though, so we can work it out when we get there.

Sunny at the moment! Thank God. My cold's finally decided to go away.

debase the beef canoe: 8D - spikeshichiloaf on September 10th, 2010 01:25 am (UTC)
oh my godddddddd this is so perfect and adorable and ahhhhh did I mention perfect?????

<3333333333 Made my day, for real.
ABC, her eyelids say.epistolic on September 11th, 2010 04:46 am (UTC)
Gawwwwwww, darling, you are so lovely. I'm glad it made your day! Because your comment kinda made mine. :grin:

Cami: e/a | on arthur's mindilovemybaby on September 10th, 2010 01:32 am (UTC)
Aaaaaw, I absolutely adore this! And I love that it isn't angst! I love to see these boys hapy ♥ You should definately write more fluff, I'd love to read more!

Very well done, darling!
Cami: e/a | togetherilovemybaby on September 10th, 2010 01:32 am (UTC)
Oh, and good luck on your exam! <333
- epistolic on September 11th, 2010 04:48 am (UTC) (Expand)
- epistolic on September 11th, 2010 04:47 am (UTC) (Expand)
Moral Whiplashbkwyrm on September 10th, 2010 01:43 am (UTC)
Awwww....that was so sweet. And of course Arthur shops at WalMart in nice clothes, I'd expect nothing less from him.
Here via....um. I don't recall. But a rec somewhere.
ABC, her eyelids say.epistolic on September 11th, 2010 04:49 am (UTC)
Gaw, thank-you! And ha, Arthur would so do that, hey? He's so adorable. :cuddles him:

Really? Wow! I'm on a rec list? You mean, for this fic, or for another fic of mine? ♥
trifotatrifota on September 10th, 2010 02:24 am (UTC)
This is so cute. HEARTS IN MY EYES!

Thanks for some fluff, dearest. I need this to balance out some angst-y fic I read. ( this fandom is amazing emotional roller-coaster drug. XD)

ABC, her eyelids say.epistolic on September 11th, 2010 04:51 am (UTC)

Gaw, yay. Fluff is fun. And this fandom does have such a terrible potential to be emotionally abusive, doesn't it? (Says the author who does quite a bit of said abusing.)