Work Text:
Eames was tweaking his forge - a spunky redhead who happened to be their mark’s twin sister - when suddenly the dream flickered. Honestly, there was no other way to describe the weird sensation of everything going fuzzy and disappearing for less than a second before coming back into focus like a faulty neon light.
That was the first sign.
The second sign was Arthur stumbling for no apparent reason.
“Eames…”
“Arthur! Are you alright? What happened?”
Arthur put a hand on his forehead. “I- I don’t- I’m just feeling really dizzy all of a sudden.”
The dream flickered again and Eames caught Arthur by his shoulder. His expression was pinched, eyes glazed, and Eames was starting to get worried for real.
“How about we get out of here and see what’s going on, hm?” He didn’t even wait for Arthur to nod before shooting him and then himself out of the dream.
*
Eames jolted up with rare urgency. “ARTHUR! Ar-” There was only a pile of clothes where their pointman should have been. His eyes widened. “Where’s Arthur? Is he sick? He was feeling off in the dream.” He turned to Ariadne and Yusuf, who were looking equally flabbergasted.
“W-We don’t know. He disappeared!”
“What? What does that mean? People don’t just disappear into thin air, and leaving their clothes behind too.” Eames gestured to the lump in the lounge chair when it suddenly moved. “WHAT THE HELL!?!”
Eames pulled off the needle carelessly and swiftly but cautiously approached. With Yusuf and Ariadne right behind, he pulled the clothes away to reveal a frantic, dark ball of fur mewling furiously.
“Oh my God! Is that, is that Arthur?” Ariadne’s shocked voice asked the question running through all of their minds.
“No, it can’t be. How could he even-”
“But it must be. The door and windows are closed right now. And look,” Yusuf intervened, “he’s still attached to the PASIV.”
The little creature was indeed struggling with the IV line as if trying to take it off. “Darling?” As soon as Eames’ hand brushed his back, the cat suddenly sprang up and lashed out in alarm.
“OW! What the hell! I wasn’t going to do anything!” he yelped, cradling his wounded hand and frowning at the probably cat-Arthur now on the floor looking at them with scared eyes and flattened ears.
Yusuf then, the cat-dad he was, crouched down to talk to him in the most soothing voice he could muster to try and convince him to at least accept help to remove the certainly uncomfortable needle from his little paw.
“So are you really Arthur?” The definitely cat-Arthur nodded once, warily, while Yusuf made quick work of the IV.
“Oh my God!” Ariadne parroted herself. “I can’t believe you turned into a cat.” She was still shell-shocked, frozen in place with only her hand moving to reach her pocket where undoubtedly her totem laid. Eames couldn’t blame her. That was Arthur, Arthur was a bloody cat. And reality wasn’t making sense anymore. He felt quite out of sorts, struggling to fully wrap his mind around what the little evidence they had pointed at, even as his fingers gripping viciously around his own poker chip confirmed this wasn’t a dream.
Arthur-the-cat still seemed to understand them at least, which Eames supposed was fortunate for them, but certainly no less crazy.
*
Without the needle, Arthur appeared to be much calmer and didn’t scurry away from them like they all thought, instead he just stared at Yusuf swishing his tail. Eames didn’t need to understand cat to know exactly what he was trying to convey, because it was the same question twirling in his mind.
“So, can someone tell me how in the ever-loving fuck is our pointman a cat?” He turned to look pointedly at Yusuf too.
“Hey, why are you all looking at me all of a sudden? It’s not like I know what happened.”
“Well, since to my, admittedly limited, knowledge, people shouldn’t spontaneously turn into felines, and since witch curses don’t exist, that leaves only the Somnacin as a possible cause, don’t you agree? Unless Arthur here has been a secret shapeshifter all along.”
The cat produced an odd huffing sound they all decided to interpret as a snort of denial.
“Alright, it does seem like my compound is the most likely cause, but I really have no idea how it could have happened, I swear!” Yusuf turned pleading eyes from Eames to Arthur. “I'm really sorry, Arthur. I didn't know human transformation was even possible in real life, let alone this could be a side effect of a Somnacin mix.”
“Well, that’s reassuring.”
“So what do we do now?” interjected Ariadne, “Is there something that can be done?”
Yusuf sighed. “I really don’t know. I can run some tests and see if I can find something useful, but chances are that he’ll revert back to himself once the compound is out of his system, if it really is that.”
“Chances are? You need to do better than that.” Eames was starting to feel rather fraught, and yes, he realized how much he sounded like Arthur even without that cocked eyebrow Ariadne, thank you very much, but this was bad, dammit, real bad. “What are we even supposed to do with a point cat?”
“Hey, I know as much as you do. I'm sorry I don't have an easy solution but this is unprecedented!”
Eames pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yeah. Yeah, I know. I’m just concerned, that's all.”
*
After that discussion, Arthur had rummaged through his clothes for a while, till something small and red fell to the ground, and then he had tossed it around a couple more times. His dice, he realized; he was checking reality too. His ears had soon dropped though and he had gone to hide somewhere, presumably needing some time alone to brood, leaving Eames at his desk to try and get back to work. At least, that was the decision Eames took, since doubling as extractor meant shouldering that responsibility too, not that there was much else to do at present anyway.
Problem was, Eames’ mind was still reeling too much to hope to be even remotely productive, and pairing that with a mild form of dyslexia meant that his notes on the mark and his sister were all a giant blur.
He hadn’t been contemplating the useless papers long before he felt something warm and slightly wet nudging at his cut hand. It was Arthur, trying his best to tend to the small wound he had involuntarily caused. Something squirmed inside Eames’ chest at Arthur still being his usual fussing mother-hen self despite the unusual circumstances.
“Oh, darling, are you apologizing?” Eames couldn't help smiling as Arthur merely buried his little head in the fabric of his shirt. “I’m fine, really. It’s barely a scratch, see? Not even worth a plaster with those tiny claws of yours.” He tried teasing, wishing to instill some normalcy, some sign he was still Arthur to him.
Arthur seemed to understand his intention because he glowered at him (and yeah it was far less effective than usual) and meowed something in protest but didn't budge from his place against his arm, and Eames found it so irresistibly endearing. “Darling, if I try to pet you, are you gonna clock me again?”
He wasn't as well versed in Arthur as he wished to be, but since he didn’t move from his position still curled up around his arm, Eames judged that it was safe to touch him, cautiously at first but growing more confident as Arthur closed his eyes and started relaxing under his hand. “I’m not mad at you, you know? That must have been pretty scary and disorienting when you first woke up, it’s only natural that you tried to defend yourself.”
Arthur’s ear twitched, the only sign he had listened to Eames’ reassurances, and Eames scratched it, still amazed he’d been allowed such indulgence. His fur was smooth and soft to the touch, and looking more closely, Eames realized it wasn’t black like he originally thought but a truly fascinating blend of browns. “Aw, darling. I think your fur is the same colour as your hair. It’s truly wondrous.” Arthur’s lack of reaction worried Eames a little, seeing the peculiar circumstances. “Darling?” And then he noticed the cat’s breath. “Have you really fallen asleep on me? Oh, I can’t believe it, I’ll never let you forget it.” he started giggling, and if it bordered a little more on the side of hysterical than giddy, well, the situation was very peculiar.
*
“Any news?”
Yusuf sighed exasperatedly. “No, Eames, exactly like the last time you asked less than half an hour ago. It’s not magic, you know? These things take time.”
“Now, now, don’t get your knickers in a twist,” Eames tried to placate him, “I'm just checking, you can’t blame me.”
“I can and I do. Do you really have nothing better to do? Work, for example?”
“I am working. I’m filling in for Arthur right now.”
“Arthur isn't usually so demanding, because he understands I need space to work and not an overbearing oaf hovering over me all the damn time.”
Eames rolled his eyes. “Complaint duly noted, but if you hadn’t noticed Arthur is indisposed at the moment, so you get me.”
“Look, mate, I get it, okay? But you’re not helping anyone like this. Why don’t you go get us lunch? Some fresh air might do you some good.”
“But-”
“Oh, yes, please.” Ariadne agreed. “A break sounds wonderful. I’m so hungry I can't see straight.”
Eames stewed a bit. He knew he was being micromanaged, he was the master after all, and he hated it, especially from people who were not Arthur. But if even Ariadne joined in against him, maybe he really was more out of control than he realized.
“Fine,” he conceded, “I can see when I’m not appreciated.” He took his jacket and his phone. “Wait, what about Arthur? We can’t give him cat food, he’ll claw our faces out.”
“Chicken. Or, anything with cooked meat or fish will do. Low on seasoning.”
*
After lunch it seemed like things were finally starting to settle, but concentration had definitively left Eames in favour of looking at Arthur. He was distracting in a different way than usual; gone was the lithe, sexy body clad in the tightest suits possible, but there was a beautiful, lean, sleek, elegant cat now in his stead.
CRASH!
Well, he was anything but elegant right now, still trying to familiarize with his new form. It was incredibly entertaining to witness how much trouble the usually calm and collected pointman could be, tripping over himself, knocking over things and missing when trying to jump.
Eames couldn't help but chuckle at Arthur's misadventures, especially when he overshot and landed inside the paper bin, unfazed by the golden glare sent his way when he had to go and help him out. “Oh, darling, you were practically part cat already, you shouldn’t be so clumsy at it.”
Arthur hit him with his paw until he was released, then left with as much dignity as he could muster while Eames laughed on.
One thing was for sure though, he didn’t lack determination, and seemed intent on mastering being a cat and making the most of it, till he gained back his usual composure and elegance. He leapt on Eames’ desk as demonstration, landing gracefully in front of him.
“Yes! You did it, Arthur!” Ariadne clapped in glee, having given up on work in favour of cheering on her favourite point cat. Arthur indulged her with what could pass as a little bow before tilting his head toward Eames in such a smug way, so typically Arthur, that Eames’ chest hurt a little, though he tried not to show it.
“Yeah. Congratulations, darling. Perfect kitty score.” He scratched behind his ear, and Arthur leaned to the touch. He just hoped Arthur never lost his spirit.
“You know, I think you never called him his name today. Only ‘darling’. Why’s that?” Ariadne pointed out.
“Well, Arthur is such a big name for such a small creature, don’t you think?” Eames smirked and picked Arthur up to shove him in Ariadne’s face. “Look at how adorable he is. Nothing less than ‘darling’ could suit such a cute specimen of almost-black kitty.” Arthur looked on with his fiercest scowl, which was admittedly more adorable than scary, and tried to squirm away and hit Eames.
Ariadne laughed, shaking her head at their ridiculousness as Eames chastised Arthur. “There's no need to resort to violence, darling, just ask politely.” to which Arthur meowed loudly in annoyance.
*
Despite their best efforts, their rhythm was off with Arthur, for all intent and purpose, incapacitated. Yusuf was immersed in trying to find a solution, antidote, cure, however you wanted to call it, but there was none of his signature excitement; Ariadne looked up at random intervals with big searching eyes, like she had questions but no one to direct them to, so she just went back to frown at her models.
And Eames, well, Eames just missed him so much, his trusted partner, which he valued above most others in dreamshare and could make even the shittiest and the most boring jobs worth it. Arthur was the one who gave him a chance as extractor too but he felt less than adequate now, when he had to make up for the pointman he had come to rely on so much.
Because while the extractor was the artist with the vision as to how to achieve the goal, and the forger knew people inside out, it was the point who guided and steered the team to move cohesively. And for all his talk and complaint, Eames knew Arthur was exceptionally skilled in that respect.
Actually, that was a good idea, knowing Arthur there could well be some notes about the next steps they needed to take.
Arthur was already at his desk, growling to himself as he tried, and absolutely failed, to work out his laptop with his paws, growling.
“Darling, you do realize you're a cat now, right? The world won't crumble if you take a break for a day.”
Arthur just glared at him.
“Seriously, no one expects you to keep on working. What were you even hoping to accomplish? This looks like a mess.”
The fight seemed to leave the point cat, as he sagged a little with a whiny mewl. Well, that was far easier than he thought, being a cat was making Arthur surprisingly soft. But the forlorn look he sent at the computer tugged at Eames. Everything was different for him now, the dimensions of the world, the colours, even the sounds and smells, his own body had become unfamiliar to him. And he knew Arthur, he needed to feel in control, and he needed to feel useful, and till now no matter what crazy unexpected thing was thrown his way, he never lost his sense of surety, not even during inception, but now his entire self was shaken and off-kilter. Work was just something to hold on to right now.
“I'm sorry, darling. I can't even fathom how strange and difficult this must be for you.” He worried at his lips. He wished he could do more but for now there was only one thing he could think of. “C’mon, how about you let me help with whatever you wanted to do? I meant to check if there was anything that needed to be done anyways.”
Arthur blinked at him for a moment before hesitantly touching his nose and rubbing it on Eames’ open hand. Eames couldn't be sure, but it seemed like an attempt to thank him. “You’re welcome.” he smiled.
Arthur’s ears perked up as Eames was checking his emails, as if just remembering something. “What is it?”
Arthur just meowed and poked him, obviously trying to communicate something and visibly getting frustrated as Eames thought he just didn't want to look around his things, till he took a hold of Eames’ shirtsleeve and pulled, lightly, mindful of the fabric.
“Oh, you want me to follow you. Alright, you silly kitty, I’m coming.”
Arthur led him merely a couple of paces away, to the table where the PASIV was laying open still, and pushed the toolbox closer. The message was clear this time, and Eames’ eyebrows rose incredulously. “You want me to do maintenance on the PASIV? Now?”
The dark cat just meowed again, insistent. “Fine, I’ll try. But just so you know, I know nothing about how PASIVs work.”
Working on the contraption blindly with only a cat's instructions as guide was… interesting. In a frustrating, cursed sort of way. Arthur was doing his best, indicating things and passing him what he needed, and Eames asked before every move, but still much of their time was filled with sighs and hisses, and even little paws whacking his hands when he was doing something wrong.
“Hey, now, darling, this is just plain rude. I get the PASIV is precious but I don’t think I deserved to be scratched up all over again.”
But Arthur just huffed at him with narrowed eyes, and Eames rolled his own in response. “Well, good to know you’re still as bossy as ever.”
*
The debrief was quite hilarious too, or at least that was what Ariadne and Yusuf seemed to think judging by their poorly concealed snickers, but Eames found it far less so. Cats weren’t supposed to be quite so argumentative, he was sure of that, and yet Arthur kept interrupting. And yeah, Eames knew him well enough to be able to guess what his objections were most of the time, but while their usual banter was fun, this was unbelievably annoying.
“Okay, enough. I’m not entirely convinced you’re not just doing it to be a pest now, but this needs to stop. What the hell do you want?” he burst out, and finally that shut Arthur up.
In fact, he was so taken aback that he disappeared. Eames felt a pang in his chest, but no, it wasn’t guilt, Arthur was the one who was being impossible first.
By the time they were ready to leave for the night, though, Arthur hadn’t returned yet, and the uneasiness in Eames grew. It wasn’t like Arthur to get so emotional over something that was almost routine for them, but then again he was probably not in the best mental state, wasn’t he? And probably cats perceive things differently? Shit, maybe he had been a little too harsh, after all, despite their bickering they rarely got genuinely mad with each other anymore.
So, naturally, it was decided he would have to be the one to cat-sit Arthur, since apparently he couldn’t stay alone as long as he was in that condition (Yusuf), and it would be the perfect opportunity to ‘kiss and make up’ (Ariadne).
And so here he was, crouching before an old cabinet trying to coax a stubborn man-cat into forgiving him.
“Darling, we need to go. Come out, please,” he pleaded to the reflective eyes shining in the dark. His knees were sore from crouching so long, but still Arthur didn’t budge. “Look, I’m sorry I yelled at you, I know I shouldn’t have. Not like that.” He shifted position so he was sitting against the cabinet. “I regret it. Honestly. You know I appreciate your contributions normally but, well, I’m just feeling a little lost myself I guess. Because I do need you, darling, but I don’t know how to be with you when you’re like this. But we were doing a pretty decent job of figuring it out before I snapped, weren’t we?”
Tiny mewling caught his attention, and he found himself smiling down in relief. “Hey there, pet. Does that mean you can stomach sharing my hotel room with me, now?”
The next meow was a bit stronger, an affirmation.
*
Of course, everyone had conveniently forgotten his hotel didn’t allow pets, and so he was forced to hide his feline companion hastily inside his bag. It was an exceptionally disheveled Arthur that re-emerged in the safety of Eames’ room, disgruntled at that treatment, especially since Eames wasted a couple of minutes chatting with the concierge (“I always chat with Melinda, it would be suspicious if I suddenly didn’t”), but he courteously limited himself at scowling quietly, lest he gave himself away.
“You know, you’re not scaring anyone like this, love.” Eames affected a wistful sigh. “Such ungrateful treatment after I put all my expertise in cons and thievery at your service to smuggle a clandestine cat into my hotel room.” he commented, happy to see Arthur’s tail betray his amusement even while the rest of him stayed impassive.
“Alright. Do you need anything before dinner? A shower or something?” Eames asked, feeling awkward all of a sudden. How could someone be a good host for a cat? For a cat that was Arthur? But Arthur simply sat down and licked his paw indifferently. “Okay, fine, but I do. So you just, um, stay here and be good.” He turned on the TV. “There, hope you enjoy a documentary about your bigger fellows.”
The shower was heavenly, exactly what he needed to wash away the weirdest and most off-putting day he had in a few years. When he came back to the main room still only in a towel, he spied Arthur tracking his every movement, and smirked, positive Arthur was in fact ogling him. “Seeing something you like, darling?” But as soon as he pointed it out, the little cat averted his eyes in something like shyness, or embarrassment, which was a real shame. “Oh, come on, there’s no need to be shy, after all-”
He was interrupted by a knock at the door. “Ah. That should be our dinner. Go hide.”
Eames had tried to order something that wasn’t so large but could still feed them both, but Arthur didn't seem to be all that hungry, only nibbling at his meatball. Despite his affected calm Eames could see he looked tense, and kept up a streaming conversation to distract them both from daunting thoughts of what tomorrow would bring.
He just got a couple of his fries stolen for his effort. “Hey, should you even eat those, you little thief? And after I opened the door to my home to you. You're gonna pay for this affront.” And he playfully attacked Arthur, delighted to discover he was deliciously ticklish.
Their mock-fight lightened the mood enough that Arthur was able to relax and doze off with his head on Eames’ lap in the middle of the latest episode of GBBO.
*
Eames shared Arthur’s disappointment at his unchanged form the next morning.
He tried to keep acting as normal, to retain the hope this was only temporary, even though Yusuf frowned thoughtfully as he saw them and took another blood sample from Arthur. But the truth, the gravity of what had happened was finally sinking in. How were they going to complete the job like this? Would Arthur be able to revert back to his human self? And if not, what was going to happen to him? Eames knew he had family, what would he tell them if it was irreversible?
His spiralling thoughts were interrupted by an insistent bumping on his arm. Arthur, looking at him so intensely, almost scolding. Still looking out for him even in cat form, even when he was the one in trouble. “Yeah, you’re right. We'll cross that bridge if and when it comes, there's no use worrying now.” He snorted through a sudden lump in his throat. “If someone had told me there’d ever come a day where our roles would be reversed like this, I’d have laughed in their faces.” Arthur’s eyes were sad though, lacking the sheer determination of the day before, and it sobered Eames immediately from his weak attempt at a joke. He gathered the cat into his arms and hugged him to his chest.
“Hey Arthur, Eames. I got the blood results. There are traces of Somnacin still.” Yusuf told them far too cheerfully.
“Oh. And that's a good thing, I imagine?”
“Yes! The Somnacin molecules formed a connection with Arthur's blood, which caused the reaction, but despite appearances it hasn't modified his DNA, which confirms my theory that once the Somnacin is completely out of his system we should go back to normal without any problems.”
“And the reason he's still a cat is just because it hasn't worn off completely yet.” Eames brightened up as the meaning of what Yusuf said sank in. “That's great news, Yusuf. Awesome! Have you heard, darling? You're gonna be back to your old self in no time, you just have to be patient a little longer.” He grinned at the equally excited looking cat, ears and tail perked up.
*
They went back to work with renewed spirit. Things were easier than the previous day, smoother.
Eames and Arthur teamed up once again, and later Arthur even went over to Ariadne, strolling through her model maze and nodding approvingly and answering her questions and doubts the best he could.
He even agreed to tag along to the park with Eames later in the afternoon, when the forger claimed a pet would help him get closer to his target Claire without raising suspicion. Though even with his improved mood, he did have his limits.
“Come on, darling, it would give me the opportunity to interact with her.” Arthur narrowed his eyes at him but he wasn’t the least fazed. “Yeah, no. I thought we already established that’s not intimidating. Please?”
Arthur made a big show of something that was probably meant to be a resigned sigh (and seriously, how was he, Eames, considered the melodramatic one?) and then bolted and jumped neatly on her table and went on, deliberately bumping into her thermos, acting as if he was trying to catch something.
“No, darling, wait.” Eames shouted running after him. Arthur let himself be caught a few paces away and, once he was safely in his arms, Eames turned to the startled red-haired woman. “Oh, I'm terribly sorry. I hope my cat hasn't ruined anything.”
“No, no, my book is fine, but…”
“Oh,” He picked up her thermos. “This is yours, right? Here.”
“Thank you.” She smiled a little and looked curiously at the grumpy cat. “Is Darling actually its name?”
Eames grinned brilliantly in response. “Yes! It's what I called him when I first found him, because he was just a little darling, and I kept meaning to give him a proper name but in the end I realized he was always Darling to me.”
Arthur, who till then had been looking quite despondently, melted in his hands at that, and Claire seemed to have the same reaction. “Aw, that's so cute.” She extended her hand. “I'm Claire.”
“John.”
*
Eames was laughing. “That was brilliant. I learned so much more about her mannerisms thanks to that little ruse. You make a great kitty actor, darling.”
But Arthur ignored him completely. He looked quite distracted actually, like he had sighted something, and soon Eames noticed it too. A butterfly. A pretty yellow butterfly was flying nearby, capturing the cat’s attention enough that he started to chase it, heedless of anything else.
Uh? Wait, that wasn't very Arthurian behaviour. He froze, a slight shiver running through him. No. No no no. He couldn’t start losing himself now. “Darling, stop! Wait for me.” But the cat didn't listen. “Darling! ARTHUR!”
Finally, at the sound of his human name, Arthur stopped. He looked around and shook his head trying to understand what had happened.
Eames practically collapsed beside him. “Arthur! Oh, thank God! Are you okay, darling?”
He reached out but stopped before touching, unsure of its welcome with Arthur so spooked, but Arthur just flung himself into his arms with a desperate cry.
“There you are. It's okay, Arthur. It's okay,” he reassured him, trying to ignore how much he was trembling, how much they both were trembling.
He put a hand on Arthur’s neck and rubbed his thumb on his head. “Don’t worry, darling. Whatever happens, we’ll face it together, okay? I’ll be with you every step of the way, I promise.”
Arthur merely looked at him with huge shiny eyes, frozen as if overwhelmed by emotion. Eames smiled very gently at him. “How about we turn in early and have a nap?”
They got back to the hotel room without incident and as soon as Eames settled into the bed Arthur crawled on his chest and curled up tightly, seeking comfort after staying strong for two days.
“Shh, it’s gonna be okay. You're gonna be back to yourself soon and we can laugh about all this, I'm sure of it.” Eames soothed and cuddled him till he started purring. A wave of fondness washed through him and he kissed his little forehead. “Goodnight, darling.”
He spent a lot of time awake even after Arthur was lulled into sleep. It wouldn’t be a burden to keep Arthur as a cat, every version of him was a pleasure to be around, but no matter how adorable his feline form was, Arthur - the actual, human Arthur, his Arthur - was irreplaceable. He refused to consider he might lose him before they ever got the chance to see where this undeniable thing between them would go, before he could know the feeling of holding him, of kissing him.
*
Arthur woke up to darkness and a strange nauseous feeling. The world was off. No, that wasn't quite true. The world was the right way up again, it was him who had already started to grow unused to it.
Something shifted under him. Oh God, Eames! He had fallen asleep on him when he was still a cat, but he must be squashing him now, so he rolled off of him.
“Dar- Darling?” he mumbled. Arthur looked on as his eyes blinked open and immediately zeroed in on him. “Arthur! Are you real? Are you human again?”
Eames looked him over with such an intense expression, like he was a miracle, that it took his breath away, and his hand was hot on his skin, and fuck, how could he have forgotten he was naked?
He felt himself blushing, mortified about that and everything else, and his senses were screaming at him, and he suddenly couldn't stay there anymore. “I, sorry.” And he fled to the bathroom.
“Arthur! Darling, is something wrong? Are you feeling alright?” He sounded so concerned, so confused. Arthur knew he was being unfair after everything Eames had done for him, but he needed some time to gather his thoughts.
“Fine. I just, I need to shower.” What he really needed was to take a grip, but he was sure a shower would help him feel more like himself at least.
“Oh, sure. I’m feeling a bit peckish, do you think you’ll be alright here by yourself for a bit while I go hunting for food?”
“Go ahead, I’ll be fine.” He hesitated. Was it alright to ask more yet of Eames?
“Great. Um, feel free to see if among my clothes there’s something that can fit you if you finish before I’m back. You want anything, darling?”
“Ah, just some toast will do. Thanks.”
He indulged for once, needing the time to regroup after the strangeness of the entire experience and the fright of yesterday. Eames had been so patient with him, so gentle and careful. He didn’t know exactly what it meant. He knew what he wanted it to mean, but he couldn’t be sure. He was never sure with Eames. But maybe, just maybe, he could trust all this, this dedication, to mean something real.
He was just putting on Eames’ least offending shirt, a plain moss green one, when the man returned.
“Hey. Feeling better?”
“Yeah. More myself, at least.”
“That’s good. Here,” Eames sat on the small couch offering his prize. “I remembered you prefer sweet things when you’re feeling off, so I got you a jam and butter toast.”
“It’s perfect. Thank you, Eames.” He sat next to him, feeling less exposed now they were both sort of dressed. “Also, thank you for, you know.” He gestured vaguely to encompass the entire cat situation.
Eames smiled kindly. “You don't need to thank me, love, but you’re welcome.”
“No, really. Thank you. I was so lost and, and confused, but you kept me sane.”
“I was just so terrified all the time of making some mistakes.” Eames shook and lowered his head. “Of losing you.”
Arthur inhaled sharply at the admission, and took Eames’ hand, lightly brushing over the healing scratch he left there. “I'm here with you. And you’ve always been there for me. That's more than enough.”
“You would have done the same for me if the situation was reversed, better even, I reckon.”
Arthur took the chance to lighten up the conversation. “Mm, I do think you’d make an adorable raccoon.”
“A raccoon? No, no, I thought more of an orange cat myself.”
“Nope. Not troublesome enough.” Arthur grinned.
“Ha! You're really talking to me about trouble? After the last two days?”
Arthur pinked again, slightly embarrassed. “Sorry for being such a handful.”
“No worse than usual, love. Only tinier and cuter.”
“Hey!” Arthur exclaimed indignantly.
“But given a choice, I’d choose this you all the same. After all, with a cat I can't do this.”
He kissed him, and finally his frazzled senses quieted down, wrapped up in Eames Arthur finally felt right. He couldn't get enough, and even when they were forced to break up for air, they leaned their foreheads together.
After a beat Eames’ smile became more mischievous. “Hey, for once I got to be the knight in shining armour come to break the wicked curse which had taken a hold of the handsome prince.”
“No, Eames, it wasn't your kiss that changed me back, I’ve never been cursed.”
“Oh, come on, darling, have you never dreamt of being rescued and swept off of your feet by a charming saviour?”
“If anything you're a roguish crook. And besides, I always believed in saving myself." He smiled at Eames. "But that doesn't mean I wouldn't appreciate company.”
Eames’ eyes softened, but before he could respond Arthur yawned.
“I suppose we still have a few hours before we need to be up, we should get some more shut-eye.”
“I think that's a wonderful idea.”
Arthur kissed Eames again, just because he could, and settled against his side on the bed, sighing contentedly as Eames wrapped his arm around his shoulders.
“Are you still purring, darling?”