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kyrene_writesTitle: Chase All the Clouds From the Sky: Part Eight
Author:kyrenekyorl
Pairings/Characters: Dom Cobb/Eames, Phillipa, James, Ariadne
Rating: R (mostly for language)
Word Count: 5,616 (this part)
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Warnings: More than a little ooc, majorly self indulgent.
Summary: The next time Ariadne visited Cobb and Eames, just a few months later, she made the trip alone.
Chase All the Clouds From the Sky: Part Eight
by kyrene
The next time Ariadne visited Cobb and Eames, just a few months later, she made the trip alone.
Not because Arthur didn't want to come. But she and Arthur weren't always together, working or otherwise. In fact, while Ariadne considered that they were friends, they didn't often see each other outside of work. They just didn't really have much in common, despite the mutual affection and respect that they had for one another and the fact that they were amazing in the dream-share together.
Cobb might have been the one to introduce her to the dream-share, to get her hooked, but Arthur had been the one who had showed her how to really work it, who had trained her in the finer details. She was always going to owe him for that.
Besides, he was just a really nice guy.
Ariadne had asked him, when she'd decided to visit again, whether he wanted to tag along. He'd turned her down, but not in a way that made her uncomfortable. He'd begged off due to being busy, and he was a good liar, but he'd looked her right in the eye and she was pretty sure he had been speaking the truth. And he had left that night, for a job somewhere in the southern hemisphere -- he always said it was better if she didn't know the details when she wasn't involved -- so it had probably been the truth.
She knew Arthur was still doing things that were illegal or at least "not strictly legal", as Cobb had once put it, but he tried to keep her out of that side of things. She didn't feel she needed the protection, but she also didn't want to wind up on the wrong side of the law, so she didn't complain.
She was sort of glad that Arthur wasn't coming along with her, she had to admit. She still didn't know all the details, didn't dare to ask anyone involved, but she was pretty sure that Arthur and Eames had been lovers in the past, and they most definitely weren't anymore, so she could only surmise that there had been a breakup of some sort. And knowing the two of them, it probably hadn't been neat or easy.
Besides that, Eames was with Cobb now, in some way or another. It seemed that whatever problems there had been between Arthur and Eames -- and possibly between Arthur and Cobb -- they'd been resolved. But she was still glad that the three of them wouldn't be in the same place that she was during this visit.
Besides, this way she had a better chance of trying to corner either Cobb or Eames to try and get the whole story from them, what had happened, and how, and why.
This time there was no Miles answering the door. This time it was Cobb himself, because Ariadne had called ahead and made sure that not only was she was welcome, but that he was also expecting her.
"Hey, Cobb," she said, giving him a hug, still not able to call him by his given name, even though she'd been playing with the idea in her mind all the way to the States. Maybe someday.
"Hey! How was your flight?" he asked, giving her a tight squeeze that lifted her in the air before dropping her back down on her own two feet.
"It went fine," she replied. "Thanks for having me here," she added, speaking sincerely seeing as she'd pretty much invited herself over.
"We're happy to see you," Cobb told her, grinning and grabbing her bags before ushering her inside. This time there was no underlying feeling of wrongness, only anticipation and a simple sense of joy at being here.
"Ariadne!" And this time it was her name that both kids squealed, and she fielded enthusiastic hugs from James as well as Phillipa.
"Hey, guys!" she exclaimed, not having to fake her happiness at seeing them. She was pretty sure that by the end of the visit she'd be less enthusiastic, but right now she had been missing them and was glad to be back.
And once she was able to drag her attention away from the kids, she could see that Eames looked even better. It hadn't been that long, just a few months, but Cobb had said that Eames had been doing pretty well before falling in the shower just before she and Arthur had showed up. Whatever he had lost then, he'd made up now, and then some.
"Hi, Eames," she greeted, stepping forward and hugging him, finally feeling as though she could do so without breaking him. He was still far more slim than she was used to, even after seeing him during her last visit, but he'd gained back a little weight. He still looked tired and his hair was still incredibly messy, but he was smiling at her, and he returned her embrace readily enough, albeit with his left arm only.
"Hallo, love," he said, and it definitely sounded as though he had more breath behind the utterance than he'd had before. "You're looking lovely, as usual."
"You incorrigible flirt," Ariadne said, giving him a quick kiss before straightening. Wouldn't do to make Cobb jealous, after all. She was teasing, obviously. What Eames had said was far from flirting, but it was nice to hear him getting back to his old self, at least a bit. She had missed it while she'd visited previously, hadn't realized how disconcerted she had been by the pale shadow he had been at the time.
He still looked pretty bad, honestly, but so much better than a few months ago. It was all a matter of perspective.
"You want the peach room again?" Cobb asked, hefting her bags. Ariadne wanted to help, but James had just latched onto her leg so she was kind of stuck here in the living room.
"Sure," she replied, lifting Cobb's son into her arms. "Oof. Have you grown since last time I was here?" she asked James.
"I'm always growing!" James announced cheerfully, testing her balance as he threw his arms up and out. "Daddy says someday I'll be as big as him!"
Ariadne felt a momentary qualm at the thought of little James as an adult.... And so did Eames, from the quick wince that passed over his face. But it was going to be a long time yet, and James was still tiny. Ariadne wasn't going to tell him that, though.
As Cobb disappeared down the hall toward the guest rooms with her things, Ariadne seated herself on the sofa, settling James on her lap. Phillipa clambered carefully onto Eames' left thigh, perched precariously, but with perfect balance, and it didn't seem that this bothered Eames' bad side, which Ariadne took as a good sign.
Really, Ariadne wanted to ask Eames how he was doing, how he and Cobb had been doing, but she asked the kids about how they had been instead. Because those were conversations for adults to have once Phillipa and James were in bed. Especially if she wanted honest answers.
Cobb returned before long with iced tea for the adults and juice for his kids, and sat on the sofa beside Ariadne. She thought that it should be Eames he was sitting with, but Eames was on the recliner, and neither he nor Cobb seemed to mind the separation. Well, they probably saw plenty of one another on a daily basis, Ariadne mused, letting herself become momentarily distracted from James recapping of the picnic lunch they'd had last time she had visited, as though she hadn't been there, as if she hadn't made the devilled eggs that James had almost made himself sick gorging on.
It was nice to see that he'd been so excited by it, though, she thought. Since the Cobb family couldn't do things like going to amusement parks or taking trips to the zoo, it was good that something as simple as a picnic on their own lawn could be a source of pleasure, that time spent with family and friends meant so much to Phillipa and James. Well, they had lost so much and come so close to losing more....
"Do you guys want to come and help me make dinner while Ariadne and Eames talk?" Cobb eventually asked, reaching over and plucking James out of Ariadne's arms. He didn't give his son any chance to protest, and Phillipa followed willingly enough, after pausing to give Eames a quick kiss on the cheek, and detouring on her way through the room to give Ariadne another hug.
Then the Cobbs were gone, and it was just Ariadne and Eames. And now that she had the opportunity to ask the questions she wanted, Ariadne didn't quite know where to start.
"How are you doing?" she asked, scooting closer. "Cobb updates me by email, but I want to know how you are, really."
Eames smiled at her, and he was slumped in the chair, but he didn't look as though he was in pain. "I'm good," he said, and she didn't need to strain to hear him. "Better every day. You saw me at my worst in months, last time you were here. I'm much better. I've gotten to the point that I can actually get up and cook breakfast in the morning now."
Before she could catch it, a little titter slipped out of Ariadne's mouth. Eames quirked a brow at her and she shook her head. "You just... you seem so delighted by that fact," she said, grinning widely enough that her cheeks hurt a little. "I was trying to imagine you being thrilled over something that domestic... before. You know, when I first met you."
Eames seemed to consider taking offense, but in the end he just gave her an indulgent smile, his eyes crinkled at the corners. "Things change. You know that."
"I know," she agreed. "And I think it's adorable."
Both his brows went up at this, and Ariadne very nearly laughed again. Maybe it was just jetlag affecting her brain, but she didn't think so. Because Eames really was adorable, whether he wanted to admit it or not. Not that she expected he would.
"How are you doing?" he asked, possibly deflecting, but probably honestly curious. "Keeping out of trouble?"
"For the most part," she replied. "Now that I'm free of Cobb's bad influence."
"Well." Eames seemed to give that a moment's consideration. "I can't really argue that."
They smiled at each other, and Ariadne wondered if she should mention Arthur, whether Eames would want to know how he was doing, or if it might still be a touchy subject.... But in the end she steered the conversation toward what Eames did every day, how he kept busy now that he wasn't spending most of his time sleeping, how he and the kids got along.
"I think they've lost a little respect for me," Eames bemoaned, though he spoke the words with a fond, indulgent expression on his face. "Time was I could get them to do anything I wanted without raising my voice. Now that I can...."
Ariadne tilted her head. "Well, they love you, I can see that," she said thoughtfully. "So it might be familiarity?"
"Probably," Eames allowed, smiling, and it was at this point that James darted back into the living room and over to the recliner.
"Daddy, dinner's almost ready!" he announced, and Ariadne thought that he'd made a mistake, or that she had misheard him telling them that Cobb had said dinner was almost ready. But James was definitely talking to Eames, as he reached out and tugged at Eames' wrist, on his left side.
Eames sent her a glance that she couldn't read. Not embarrassed or defiant. She honestly couldn't place a name to his expression. But evidently "Uncle Eames" was a thing of the past.
"Well, let's go, then," Eames said, rising without too much effort and waiting for Ariadne to stand as well, before allowing James to drag him in the direction of the dining room. "Shall we?"
Ariadne nodded, bemused, silent in thought as she joined Eames and James. Whatever Cobb was making for dinner, it smelled delicious, and her stomach rumbled hungrily. One thing about visiting Cobb; she always ate well. Even though this was her third stay here, she still found it surprising that he could cook, and so well.
Dinner was a pleasant affair, even as such things went. Ariadne might have teased Eames about his domestic inclinations, but she had to admit that she found it just as nice to sit here with the Cobb family, listening to the kids talk, discovering that she didn't hate meatloaf when Cobb made it -- he'd had it prepared and already baking before she'd arrived, which was how he'd gotten dinner finished so quickly -- and anticipating several more days of the same. She couldn't stay for longer than a week, but she intended to make the most of the time that she was here.
"Do you want to take a drive to the coast tomorrow?" Cobb asked her as the two of them stood at the sink after dinner, doing dishes. Phillipa was fetching her scrapbook and Eames had taken James to his bedroom to change his shirt, since he had been so animated while eating that he was wearing more than a small amount of his meal.
"Is Eames up to that?" Ariadne asked, startled despite the fact that Eames was moving more easily and was doing his share of taking care of the kids.
Cobb nodded, and she was pretty sure he wasn't aware of how widely he was smiling, how happy he looked. She felt her own heart thump, warm and aching with affection for both Cobb and Eames, and how good they were for each other.
"As long as we take it easy, he'll be fine," Cobb said, handing her the last bowl to dry.
"So," Ariadne said overly-casually, aware that they were running out of time and that Phillipa would be returning any moment with her scrapbook, demanding all of Ariadne's attention. "Was I only imagining that James called Eames 'Dad' just before dinner?"
"Oh. Well. I, uh, I told the kids to think of Eames as another father," Cobb said, his cheeks faintly pink, glancing at her then averting his eyes as he pulled the drain in the sink. "Then told them to decide what to call him."
Ariadne nodded, but she also raised a brow, intrigued by the subject and by the amused curl to Cobb's lips despite his obvious embarrassment. She suspected there was more to the story. "And?"
"And so James asked if he should call him Mommy," Cobb finished, and now he was outright grinning, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter. "You should have seen the look on Eames' face." He shook his head. "I still can't figure out if James was serious or making a joke."
"Probably trying to break the tension," Ariadne said, not bothering to hide her own wide grin at the mental image Cobb had painted. "You do know that both your kids are too smart for your own good, right, Cobb?"
"Oh, I'm well aware," he replied, drying his hands and shaking his head. "They're already running me ragged. I can't even imagine what it's going to be like in ten years, or even in five."
"Well, at least you have Eames to help you," Ariadne told him, and she could hear Phillipa's feet pattering down the hardwood floor of the hallway leading to the kitchen. "You know I'm happy for you both, right?"
Cobb actually blushed, she noted with glee. But then Phillipa was in the kitchen and it was time to admire the additions that the young girl had made to her scrapbook since the last time Ariadne had seen it. Ariadne already knew from past experience that any adult conversations were going to have to be worked in around the children, or after they had gone to bed, but she was okay with that.
She was just having a great time being here, spending time with some of her closest friends. And she had been telling Cobb the truth. She was really happy for he and Eames. As strange and unexpected as their relationship was... she was happy for them.
***
"So, Ariadne knows," Dom said as he unbuttoned his shirt, once they'd all made their way to their respective bedrooms at the day's end. "Good thing I didn't take you up that bet."
Eames laughed, and it was good to hear him able to give an audible chuckle, instead of the soundless huffs he'd been restricted to just a few months back, much less directly after being shot. "I told you. You've never been half so subtle as you think yourself to be."
Dom restrained himself from rolling his eyes, but only just barely. He was a man in his mid-thirties who had two kids, who had lost his wife in the worst way possible, who had spent two years on the run, doing illegal things to survive, and yet something about Eames and interacting with Eames made him feel like a teenager again. A giddy teenager who was madly in love.
Eames didn't need to know that last.... But then, much like Ariadne, Dom suspected that Eames already did know.
"Bite your tongue," he commanded, switching his pants for pajama bottoms. Eames was already stripped to his boxers and didn't seem to have any inclination to put anything more on -- not that Dom was going to complain about that. "Or I won't get up early and make us all breakfast."
"Such a threat," Eames deadpanned, taking the three steps it took to bring him into Dom's personal space. He slid his left arm around Dom's neck, his right hand resting heavily on Dom's hip because he still couldn't raise it any higher than that, and leaned in to press their lips together in a soft, moist kiss. "You know that I can cook breakfast now, right?"
He was right. The truth was that he was capable now, and Dom was extremely glad of it. "I have a better idea," he murmured, ringing Eames' bare waist with his hands, fingers spread over the warm, smooth flesh. Eames was beginning to gain back a little of what he had lost, and it was a visceral pleasure, touching him like this, holding him, caressing him. "How about we cook breakfast together?"
"But then what will you withhold in threat?" Eames asked, leaning into Dom's embrace with something suspiciously like a purr. "Never say sex."
Dom snorted. "Now you're just being ridiculous. Go brush your teeth."
"Yes, master," Eames rumbled, kissing him soundly again, before doing as directed, headed for the bathroom. Dom figured he would follow once he'd turned down the bedcovers. It wasn't as intimate as kissing or even as shaving, but Dom liked sharing a sink with Eames while they were getting ready for bed.
Despite their banter, he and Eames hadn't quite worked their way up to sex yet. Not due to any hesitation or lack of desire on either of their parts. In his younger ears Dom had lived up to the expected cliche and experimented in college, well before he'd met Mal, and he'd liked it. Obviously Eames had been with at least one man, since he and Arthur had been lovers, even though Dom didn't want to ask how many others there had been. So it wasn't that. But no matter how much better he was doing, Eames still wasn't up to something so strenuous. Almost, Dom thought. Almost. But he wasn't going to risk Eames' health, wasn't going to set back his recovery in the pursuit of his own pleasure, no matter how much he knew that Eames wanted it too. So they were taking it slowly.
But that didn't mean that there wasn't plenty of kissing, touching... snogging, as Eames called it, even though Dom had asked him more than once to stop doing so.
"James called me Dad again," Eames told him as Dom brushed his teeth. Eames was done, but he remained where he was, leaning into Dom's side, not getting in the way, just staying close. Warm and breathing beside him.
"Yeah, Ariadne told me," Dom spoke through his mouth full of lather and toothbrush, knowing that Eames would understand him well enough. He spat, rinsed, then asked more clearly, "You don't mind, do you?"
Eames shook his head, meeting Dom's gaze in the mirror as he pressed a kiss to his shoulder through the material of the teeshirt he was wearing. "Not really. It still seems strange to me, but if it's how he feels... then I'm nothing so much as I am flattered and humbled."
Dom smiled, wiping his mouth on a washcloth, then turning slightly to share a minty-fresh kiss with Eames. His lips were still chilled from the water but Eames' were warm, and it was an invigorating contrast, only adding to the pleasure of their kiss.
"Ready to get to bed?" Dom asked, folding Eames in his arms again and enjoying the softness of his skin. He hadn't had a lover since Mal, which was coming up close to three years now, and he had missed the sensation of touch, the closeness, the pure pleasure of holding someone that he loved in his arms. It wasn't about sex, though sex was nice. It was the emotion, the indulgence, the sweet intimacy of it. Those were the things he had missed.
"Absolutely," Eames murmured, his tone sultry, his hand hot where it came to rest on Dom's side, stroking him through the weave of his shirt. This was good, because it meant that Eames' circulation was working properly again. Dom still remembered, back in the days, weeks, months after Eames had been shot, how cold his hands had been, how he'd had to warm Eames with his own body heat when he had carefully pulled him close in bed.
Things were so much improved now. And the kids seemed to be feeling more confident as well; it had been almost a week since either of them had crawled into bed with Dom and Eames, and that had only been because James had had a nightmare about dinosaurs. Dom didn't want his son to have bad dreams at all, but much better he dream about a scary creature that Dom could assure him wasn't real any longer, than about the scary things that had happened to him so far during his short life.
Phillipa was still hovering around Eames during most of their waking moments, but as long as Eames didn't have a problem with this, neither did Dom. And Eames didn't seem to mind, though he was going out of his way to make sure that she knew he was doing all right now.
As Eames got better, so did the kids, Dom thought. And he was pretty sure that his own mindset improved as well. All of them were settling quite well into the new way that things were. It was gratifying to see.
Dom wasn't sure quite what to expect as he and Eames slid under the covers and he stretched to flick off the bedside lamp. Eames had seemed uncommonly energetic and full of good cheer all day, as though anticipating Ariadne's arrival and being in her presence had raised his spirits. Dom wasn't jealous; he was just happy to see Eames so full of life.
Well, maybe he was a little jealous. But he was the one in bed with Eames right now, not Ariadne, so it was all right.
As he rolled back toward Eames, Eames rolled into Dom. Eames was able to lie on his left side now instead of only on his back, and though he moved carefully, stiffly, he was able to slide his right arm over Dom's ribcage, his hand broad and bold as it made its way up toward his shoulderblade.
"Really?" Dom murmured into Eames' mouth, as the other man pressed in close enough to claim his lips with an assurance that was extremely promising.
"Absolutely," Eames rumbled again, and his tongue ran wet and hot along the swell of Dom's lower lip. Dom wanted to grab Eames and pull him close, but instead he traced the rough scars marring the otherwise clean plane of Eames' chest. He needed the reminder. Both of why he should be careful, and that Eames was alive and healing. The two facts weren't the extreme contradictions that they seemed to be.
"Tell me this extra enthusiasm isn't due to Ariadne's presence in the house," Dom said, pulling back slightly, but allowing himself to draw Eames into his arms at the same time. "Because this seems like one hell of a coincidence."
The startled expression on Eames' face, which he could see even in the darkness of the room, went a long way to reassuring Dom. As did the light laugh that Eames loosed once he'd recovered from his surprise. "How would that even--" Eames shook his head. "Now you're being ridiculous again." Before Dom could think of anything to say, Eames continued. "I guess this does seem a bit coincidental. But the fact of the matter is that I just... I just feel good today. And I don't know that it has to do with our darling little architect's visit, but I suppose I can't definitively state that it doesn't. You know that I do tend to have a powerful streak of exhibitionism running through me."
"I do," Dom admitted, already feeling completely reassured, as he had expected. "But you know she's in the other wing. There's no chance of her hearing... anything."
"Mm." Eames pressed closer, and Dom could feel the other man's arousal beginning to press hard against the front of his boxers, could feel his own cock twitch in reaction, inside his pajama bottoms. "But just knowing that she knows... that in the morning she'll see the hickeys...."
"Hickeys?" Dom laughed, but it came out more husky than he'd intended, and he allowed his hand to make its way down to where he could palm Eames' firm ass cheek, giving it a quick squeeze, because how could he not.
"I'm game if you are," Eames rasped, and his teeth nipped, sharp but gently, at Dom's chin, then down the angle of his jaw.
"Are you sure?" Dom asked, meaning so much more than hickeys.
"Absolutely," Eames said a third time, and then his lips were plush and his tongue was wet and blunt against the pulse in Dom's neck, moving up to nuzzle at the hollow behind his ear. And it should have sounded silly, his using the same word to reply to three different questions, but it was just hot, knowing that he felt so certain.
Dom sighed, then gave himself mental permission to take and touch and taste as well. Only.... "If there's one twinge, one sign that you're hurting, I'm stopping," he warned, not sure how far Eames intended they go tonight, but perfectly willing to match him step for step. "And I expect you to tell me immediately if I do anything to cause you pain. Promise me."
Instead of saying "absolutely" a fourth time, Eames whispered, "Promise," in Dom's ear, then set about giving him the first of the evening's hickeys.
Dom very much intended that it not be the last, though.
***
The sun was warm and the air was filled with the scent of salt. Eames didn't think he'd ever enjoyed being at the coast more.
Granted, he was restricted to staying underneath the shade that Dom had brought, and the walk down to the sand had rendered him breathless and a little sore, but it was all worth it. Especially watching Pippa and James racing at the edge of the water with Ariadne, and knowing that Dom wasn't able to hide the marks Eames had left on him the night before, even though he'd insisted that the majority of them remain below his collar. Evidently he had forgotten that they had been planning a trip to the beach. Eames found this to be far more amusing than he maybe ought. He certainly knew that Ariadne had found it to be amusing.
Right now Dom was kneeling in the spot where the damp sand met the dry, building castles with his children, his hair windblown and his cheek red. He had never looked so appealing, and Eames felt violently affectionate and fiercely possessive at once. It was just a good thing that he could be almost completely sure Ariadne had no intentions toward his man.
Speaking of Ariadne, she flopped down beside him on the blanket, underneath the shade, her hair damp at the tips, her eyes alight. She was wearing shorts and a short-sleeved top, and Eames thought that it was strange to see her without one of her precious scarves hanging low around her neck. He also hoped she had remembered to put on sunscreen; else her pale skin wouldn't fail to burn. He himself was wearing slacks and a button-up, but that was more to hide his scars and the weight he had yet to put back on than to shield his flesh from the harsh sun.
"How are you doing, Eames?" Ariadne asked, digging in the cooler until she came out with a soda. Despite her distraction, he could tell that she was honestly concerned about him and his health.
"Good," he replied, accepting the second can that she held out to him, even though he wasn't thirsty and had a half-filled water bottle sitting beside him. "As long as I just sit here like a lump, it's all good."
He hadn't meant to sound so bitter, honestly, but it still rankled, the enforced inactivity on a man who had been used to doing whatever he wanted, who was still young and ought to be in his prime.
Ariadne gave him a sympathetic look, but just shrugged. "The kids are happy to be here; that's what matters most, right?" she said. Not demeaning his own angst, but giving him something positive and true to focus on instead.
"Of course," he said simply, smiling at her to let her know he wasn't offended.
She sighed and sank down on the blanket, leaning back on her elbows, her little feet kicking up, bare, toes sandy and wiggling. Someday she was going to make some lucky man very happy, Eames mused with a vague fondness. But not Arthur, and definitely not Dom. He knew it was selfish of him, but he was grateful for both these facts.
"I'm glad you were able to make it this far, though," Ariadne continued, giving him a sunny smile. "It was such a shock, seeing you the first time. You know, after."
Eames sighed and nodded.
"Sorry," Ariadne said.
"No, it's not something to avoid talking about," Eames told her. "As long as the babies aren't around. But it's in the past now."
Ariadne nodded, sipping her soda, her eyes on Dom and kids now. She didn't look as though she intended to move any time soon. Eames didn't mind. Now that he'd had stillness forced on him, he had discovered that it was nice to have someone to be still with. And Ariadne understood so much, without saying everything, without trying to get him to talk about it. She was good company and a good friend.
Down by the water, James was screaming and chasing seagulls. Pippa was on Dom's shoulders, and Eames wished that he was walking with them. Well, maybe after they ate lunch he would have the energy to join them for a slow, short stroll. He didn't want to push things, but neither did he want to be completely left out.
"It's a beautiful day," Ariadne said dreamily, as Dom began herding the children back toward the shade they sat underneath.
"It is," Eames replied softly, raising a hand as Pippa waved wildly and James began dashing their direction, puffs of sand rising underneath his little feet. It really was, in every way that counted. And not just because of the flawless blue sky and cool breeze.
It might have taken three bullets to the chest, but Eames had gotten his fresh start. It wasn't anything he might have ever expected, and it was something of a miracle that he had recognized it when he had seen it, but here he was, and there was nowhere else he would have chosen to be.
Eames had no idea what he would have done without Dom, but the beauty of it was that he didn't have to figure it out. Because Dom was here, and he was here for Dom.
This was their fresh start, and they were in it together, as it should be.
It had taken a long time and a lot of heartache along the way, but Eames had found his way home. It was a dreadful cliche, but home was where the heart was, and this was where Eames was going to stay.
He was home, here in Dom's heart. And Dom was at home in his.
"It's a beautiful day," he murmured, as his family joined him under the shade. And there was nowhere else he would ever want to be.
Dom smiled at him, and there it was; the rest of his life.
Eames smiled back.
[end]
Author:
kyrenekyorlPairings/Characters: Dom Cobb/Eames, Phillipa, James, Ariadne
Rating: R (mostly for language)
Word Count: 5,616 (this part)
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Warnings: More than a little ooc, majorly self indulgent.
Summary: The next time Ariadne visited Cobb and Eames, just a few months later, she made the trip alone.
Chase All the Clouds From the Sky: Part Eight
by kyrene
The next time Ariadne visited Cobb and Eames, just a few months later, she made the trip alone.
Not because Arthur didn't want to come. But she and Arthur weren't always together, working or otherwise. In fact, while Ariadne considered that they were friends, they didn't often see each other outside of work. They just didn't really have much in common, despite the mutual affection and respect that they had for one another and the fact that they were amazing in the dream-share together.
Cobb might have been the one to introduce her to the dream-share, to get her hooked, but Arthur had been the one who had showed her how to really work it, who had trained her in the finer details. She was always going to owe him for that.
Besides, he was just a really nice guy.
Ariadne had asked him, when she'd decided to visit again, whether he wanted to tag along. He'd turned her down, but not in a way that made her uncomfortable. He'd begged off due to being busy, and he was a good liar, but he'd looked her right in the eye and she was pretty sure he had been speaking the truth. And he had left that night, for a job somewhere in the southern hemisphere -- he always said it was better if she didn't know the details when she wasn't involved -- so it had probably been the truth.
She knew Arthur was still doing things that were illegal or at least "not strictly legal", as Cobb had once put it, but he tried to keep her out of that side of things. She didn't feel she needed the protection, but she also didn't want to wind up on the wrong side of the law, so she didn't complain.
She was sort of glad that Arthur wasn't coming along with her, she had to admit. She still didn't know all the details, didn't dare to ask anyone involved, but she was pretty sure that Arthur and Eames had been lovers in the past, and they most definitely weren't anymore, so she could only surmise that there had been a breakup of some sort. And knowing the two of them, it probably hadn't been neat or easy.
Besides that, Eames was with Cobb now, in some way or another. It seemed that whatever problems there had been between Arthur and Eames -- and possibly between Arthur and Cobb -- they'd been resolved. But she was still glad that the three of them wouldn't be in the same place that she was during this visit.
Besides, this way she had a better chance of trying to corner either Cobb or Eames to try and get the whole story from them, what had happened, and how, and why.
This time there was no Miles answering the door. This time it was Cobb himself, because Ariadne had called ahead and made sure that not only was she was welcome, but that he was also expecting her.
"Hey, Cobb," she said, giving him a hug, still not able to call him by his given name, even though she'd been playing with the idea in her mind all the way to the States. Maybe someday.
"Hey! How was your flight?" he asked, giving her a tight squeeze that lifted her in the air before dropping her back down on her own two feet.
"It went fine," she replied. "Thanks for having me here," she added, speaking sincerely seeing as she'd pretty much invited herself over.
"We're happy to see you," Cobb told her, grinning and grabbing her bags before ushering her inside. This time there was no underlying feeling of wrongness, only anticipation and a simple sense of joy at being here.
"Ariadne!" And this time it was her name that both kids squealed, and she fielded enthusiastic hugs from James as well as Phillipa.
"Hey, guys!" she exclaimed, not having to fake her happiness at seeing them. She was pretty sure that by the end of the visit she'd be less enthusiastic, but right now she had been missing them and was glad to be back.
And once she was able to drag her attention away from the kids, she could see that Eames looked even better. It hadn't been that long, just a few months, but Cobb had said that Eames had been doing pretty well before falling in the shower just before she and Arthur had showed up. Whatever he had lost then, he'd made up now, and then some.
"Hi, Eames," she greeted, stepping forward and hugging him, finally feeling as though she could do so without breaking him. He was still far more slim than she was used to, even after seeing him during her last visit, but he'd gained back a little weight. He still looked tired and his hair was still incredibly messy, but he was smiling at her, and he returned her embrace readily enough, albeit with his left arm only.
"Hallo, love," he said, and it definitely sounded as though he had more breath behind the utterance than he'd had before. "You're looking lovely, as usual."
"You incorrigible flirt," Ariadne said, giving him a quick kiss before straightening. Wouldn't do to make Cobb jealous, after all. She was teasing, obviously. What Eames had said was far from flirting, but it was nice to hear him getting back to his old self, at least a bit. She had missed it while she'd visited previously, hadn't realized how disconcerted she had been by the pale shadow he had been at the time.
He still looked pretty bad, honestly, but so much better than a few months ago. It was all a matter of perspective.
"You want the peach room again?" Cobb asked, hefting her bags. Ariadne wanted to help, but James had just latched onto her leg so she was kind of stuck here in the living room.
"Sure," she replied, lifting Cobb's son into her arms. "Oof. Have you grown since last time I was here?" she asked James.
"I'm always growing!" James announced cheerfully, testing her balance as he threw his arms up and out. "Daddy says someday I'll be as big as him!"
Ariadne felt a momentary qualm at the thought of little James as an adult.... And so did Eames, from the quick wince that passed over his face. But it was going to be a long time yet, and James was still tiny. Ariadne wasn't going to tell him that, though.
As Cobb disappeared down the hall toward the guest rooms with her things, Ariadne seated herself on the sofa, settling James on her lap. Phillipa clambered carefully onto Eames' left thigh, perched precariously, but with perfect balance, and it didn't seem that this bothered Eames' bad side, which Ariadne took as a good sign.
Really, Ariadne wanted to ask Eames how he was doing, how he and Cobb had been doing, but she asked the kids about how they had been instead. Because those were conversations for adults to have once Phillipa and James were in bed. Especially if she wanted honest answers.
Cobb returned before long with iced tea for the adults and juice for his kids, and sat on the sofa beside Ariadne. She thought that it should be Eames he was sitting with, but Eames was on the recliner, and neither he nor Cobb seemed to mind the separation. Well, they probably saw plenty of one another on a daily basis, Ariadne mused, letting herself become momentarily distracted from James recapping of the picnic lunch they'd had last time she had visited, as though she hadn't been there, as if she hadn't made the devilled eggs that James had almost made himself sick gorging on.
It was nice to see that he'd been so excited by it, though, she thought. Since the Cobb family couldn't do things like going to amusement parks or taking trips to the zoo, it was good that something as simple as a picnic on their own lawn could be a source of pleasure, that time spent with family and friends meant so much to Phillipa and James. Well, they had lost so much and come so close to losing more....
"Do you guys want to come and help me make dinner while Ariadne and Eames talk?" Cobb eventually asked, reaching over and plucking James out of Ariadne's arms. He didn't give his son any chance to protest, and Phillipa followed willingly enough, after pausing to give Eames a quick kiss on the cheek, and detouring on her way through the room to give Ariadne another hug.
Then the Cobbs were gone, and it was just Ariadne and Eames. And now that she had the opportunity to ask the questions she wanted, Ariadne didn't quite know where to start.
"How are you doing?" she asked, scooting closer. "Cobb updates me by email, but I want to know how you are, really."
Eames smiled at her, and he was slumped in the chair, but he didn't look as though he was in pain. "I'm good," he said, and she didn't need to strain to hear him. "Better every day. You saw me at my worst in months, last time you were here. I'm much better. I've gotten to the point that I can actually get up and cook breakfast in the morning now."
Before she could catch it, a little titter slipped out of Ariadne's mouth. Eames quirked a brow at her and she shook her head. "You just... you seem so delighted by that fact," she said, grinning widely enough that her cheeks hurt a little. "I was trying to imagine you being thrilled over something that domestic... before. You know, when I first met you."
Eames seemed to consider taking offense, but in the end he just gave her an indulgent smile, his eyes crinkled at the corners. "Things change. You know that."
"I know," she agreed. "And I think it's adorable."
Both his brows went up at this, and Ariadne very nearly laughed again. Maybe it was just jetlag affecting her brain, but she didn't think so. Because Eames really was adorable, whether he wanted to admit it or not. Not that she expected he would.
"How are you doing?" he asked, possibly deflecting, but probably honestly curious. "Keeping out of trouble?"
"For the most part," she replied. "Now that I'm free of Cobb's bad influence."
"Well." Eames seemed to give that a moment's consideration. "I can't really argue that."
They smiled at each other, and Ariadne wondered if she should mention Arthur, whether Eames would want to know how he was doing, or if it might still be a touchy subject.... But in the end she steered the conversation toward what Eames did every day, how he kept busy now that he wasn't spending most of his time sleeping, how he and the kids got along.
"I think they've lost a little respect for me," Eames bemoaned, though he spoke the words with a fond, indulgent expression on his face. "Time was I could get them to do anything I wanted without raising my voice. Now that I can...."
Ariadne tilted her head. "Well, they love you, I can see that," she said thoughtfully. "So it might be familiarity?"
"Probably," Eames allowed, smiling, and it was at this point that James darted back into the living room and over to the recliner.
"Daddy, dinner's almost ready!" he announced, and Ariadne thought that he'd made a mistake, or that she had misheard him telling them that Cobb had said dinner was almost ready. But James was definitely talking to Eames, as he reached out and tugged at Eames' wrist, on his left side.
Eames sent her a glance that she couldn't read. Not embarrassed or defiant. She honestly couldn't place a name to his expression. But evidently "Uncle Eames" was a thing of the past.
"Well, let's go, then," Eames said, rising without too much effort and waiting for Ariadne to stand as well, before allowing James to drag him in the direction of the dining room. "Shall we?"
Ariadne nodded, bemused, silent in thought as she joined Eames and James. Whatever Cobb was making for dinner, it smelled delicious, and her stomach rumbled hungrily. One thing about visiting Cobb; she always ate well. Even though this was her third stay here, she still found it surprising that he could cook, and so well.
Dinner was a pleasant affair, even as such things went. Ariadne might have teased Eames about his domestic inclinations, but she had to admit that she found it just as nice to sit here with the Cobb family, listening to the kids talk, discovering that she didn't hate meatloaf when Cobb made it -- he'd had it prepared and already baking before she'd arrived, which was how he'd gotten dinner finished so quickly -- and anticipating several more days of the same. She couldn't stay for longer than a week, but she intended to make the most of the time that she was here.
"Do you want to take a drive to the coast tomorrow?" Cobb asked her as the two of them stood at the sink after dinner, doing dishes. Phillipa was fetching her scrapbook and Eames had taken James to his bedroom to change his shirt, since he had been so animated while eating that he was wearing more than a small amount of his meal.
"Is Eames up to that?" Ariadne asked, startled despite the fact that Eames was moving more easily and was doing his share of taking care of the kids.
Cobb nodded, and she was pretty sure he wasn't aware of how widely he was smiling, how happy he looked. She felt her own heart thump, warm and aching with affection for both Cobb and Eames, and how good they were for each other.
"As long as we take it easy, he'll be fine," Cobb said, handing her the last bowl to dry.
"So," Ariadne said overly-casually, aware that they were running out of time and that Phillipa would be returning any moment with her scrapbook, demanding all of Ariadne's attention. "Was I only imagining that James called Eames 'Dad' just before dinner?"
"Oh. Well. I, uh, I told the kids to think of Eames as another father," Cobb said, his cheeks faintly pink, glancing at her then averting his eyes as he pulled the drain in the sink. "Then told them to decide what to call him."
Ariadne nodded, but she also raised a brow, intrigued by the subject and by the amused curl to Cobb's lips despite his obvious embarrassment. She suspected there was more to the story. "And?"
"And so James asked if he should call him Mommy," Cobb finished, and now he was outright grinning, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter. "You should have seen the look on Eames' face." He shook his head. "I still can't figure out if James was serious or making a joke."
"Probably trying to break the tension," Ariadne said, not bothering to hide her own wide grin at the mental image Cobb had painted. "You do know that both your kids are too smart for your own good, right, Cobb?"
"Oh, I'm well aware," he replied, drying his hands and shaking his head. "They're already running me ragged. I can't even imagine what it's going to be like in ten years, or even in five."
"Well, at least you have Eames to help you," Ariadne told him, and she could hear Phillipa's feet pattering down the hardwood floor of the hallway leading to the kitchen. "You know I'm happy for you both, right?"
Cobb actually blushed, she noted with glee. But then Phillipa was in the kitchen and it was time to admire the additions that the young girl had made to her scrapbook since the last time Ariadne had seen it. Ariadne already knew from past experience that any adult conversations were going to have to be worked in around the children, or after they had gone to bed, but she was okay with that.
She was just having a great time being here, spending time with some of her closest friends. And she had been telling Cobb the truth. She was really happy for he and Eames. As strange and unexpected as their relationship was... she was happy for them.
***
"So, Ariadne knows," Dom said as he unbuttoned his shirt, once they'd all made their way to their respective bedrooms at the day's end. "Good thing I didn't take you up that bet."
Eames laughed, and it was good to hear him able to give an audible chuckle, instead of the soundless huffs he'd been restricted to just a few months back, much less directly after being shot. "I told you. You've never been half so subtle as you think yourself to be."
Dom restrained himself from rolling his eyes, but only just barely. He was a man in his mid-thirties who had two kids, who had lost his wife in the worst way possible, who had spent two years on the run, doing illegal things to survive, and yet something about Eames and interacting with Eames made him feel like a teenager again. A giddy teenager who was madly in love.
Eames didn't need to know that last.... But then, much like Ariadne, Dom suspected that Eames already did know.
"Bite your tongue," he commanded, switching his pants for pajama bottoms. Eames was already stripped to his boxers and didn't seem to have any inclination to put anything more on -- not that Dom was going to complain about that. "Or I won't get up early and make us all breakfast."
"Such a threat," Eames deadpanned, taking the three steps it took to bring him into Dom's personal space. He slid his left arm around Dom's neck, his right hand resting heavily on Dom's hip because he still couldn't raise it any higher than that, and leaned in to press their lips together in a soft, moist kiss. "You know that I can cook breakfast now, right?"
He was right. The truth was that he was capable now, and Dom was extremely glad of it. "I have a better idea," he murmured, ringing Eames' bare waist with his hands, fingers spread over the warm, smooth flesh. Eames was beginning to gain back a little of what he had lost, and it was a visceral pleasure, touching him like this, holding him, caressing him. "How about we cook breakfast together?"
"But then what will you withhold in threat?" Eames asked, leaning into Dom's embrace with something suspiciously like a purr. "Never say sex."
Dom snorted. "Now you're just being ridiculous. Go brush your teeth."
"Yes, master," Eames rumbled, kissing him soundly again, before doing as directed, headed for the bathroom. Dom figured he would follow once he'd turned down the bedcovers. It wasn't as intimate as kissing or even as shaving, but Dom liked sharing a sink with Eames while they were getting ready for bed.
Despite their banter, he and Eames hadn't quite worked their way up to sex yet. Not due to any hesitation or lack of desire on either of their parts. In his younger ears Dom had lived up to the expected cliche and experimented in college, well before he'd met Mal, and he'd liked it. Obviously Eames had been with at least one man, since he and Arthur had been lovers, even though Dom didn't want to ask how many others there had been. So it wasn't that. But no matter how much better he was doing, Eames still wasn't up to something so strenuous. Almost, Dom thought. Almost. But he wasn't going to risk Eames' health, wasn't going to set back his recovery in the pursuit of his own pleasure, no matter how much he knew that Eames wanted it too. So they were taking it slowly.
But that didn't mean that there wasn't plenty of kissing, touching... snogging, as Eames called it, even though Dom had asked him more than once to stop doing so.
"James called me Dad again," Eames told him as Dom brushed his teeth. Eames was done, but he remained where he was, leaning into Dom's side, not getting in the way, just staying close. Warm and breathing beside him.
"Yeah, Ariadne told me," Dom spoke through his mouth full of lather and toothbrush, knowing that Eames would understand him well enough. He spat, rinsed, then asked more clearly, "You don't mind, do you?"
Eames shook his head, meeting Dom's gaze in the mirror as he pressed a kiss to his shoulder through the material of the teeshirt he was wearing. "Not really. It still seems strange to me, but if it's how he feels... then I'm nothing so much as I am flattered and humbled."
Dom smiled, wiping his mouth on a washcloth, then turning slightly to share a minty-fresh kiss with Eames. His lips were still chilled from the water but Eames' were warm, and it was an invigorating contrast, only adding to the pleasure of their kiss.
"Ready to get to bed?" Dom asked, folding Eames in his arms again and enjoying the softness of his skin. He hadn't had a lover since Mal, which was coming up close to three years now, and he had missed the sensation of touch, the closeness, the pure pleasure of holding someone that he loved in his arms. It wasn't about sex, though sex was nice. It was the emotion, the indulgence, the sweet intimacy of it. Those were the things he had missed.
"Absolutely," Eames murmured, his tone sultry, his hand hot where it came to rest on Dom's side, stroking him through the weave of his shirt. This was good, because it meant that Eames' circulation was working properly again. Dom still remembered, back in the days, weeks, months after Eames had been shot, how cold his hands had been, how he'd had to warm Eames with his own body heat when he had carefully pulled him close in bed.
Things were so much improved now. And the kids seemed to be feeling more confident as well; it had been almost a week since either of them had crawled into bed with Dom and Eames, and that had only been because James had had a nightmare about dinosaurs. Dom didn't want his son to have bad dreams at all, but much better he dream about a scary creature that Dom could assure him wasn't real any longer, than about the scary things that had happened to him so far during his short life.
Phillipa was still hovering around Eames during most of their waking moments, but as long as Eames didn't have a problem with this, neither did Dom. And Eames didn't seem to mind, though he was going out of his way to make sure that she knew he was doing all right now.
As Eames got better, so did the kids, Dom thought. And he was pretty sure that his own mindset improved as well. All of them were settling quite well into the new way that things were. It was gratifying to see.
Dom wasn't sure quite what to expect as he and Eames slid under the covers and he stretched to flick off the bedside lamp. Eames had seemed uncommonly energetic and full of good cheer all day, as though anticipating Ariadne's arrival and being in her presence had raised his spirits. Dom wasn't jealous; he was just happy to see Eames so full of life.
Well, maybe he was a little jealous. But he was the one in bed with Eames right now, not Ariadne, so it was all right.
As he rolled back toward Eames, Eames rolled into Dom. Eames was able to lie on his left side now instead of only on his back, and though he moved carefully, stiffly, he was able to slide his right arm over Dom's ribcage, his hand broad and bold as it made its way up toward his shoulderblade.
"Really?" Dom murmured into Eames' mouth, as the other man pressed in close enough to claim his lips with an assurance that was extremely promising.
"Absolutely," Eames rumbled again, and his tongue ran wet and hot along the swell of Dom's lower lip. Dom wanted to grab Eames and pull him close, but instead he traced the rough scars marring the otherwise clean plane of Eames' chest. He needed the reminder. Both of why he should be careful, and that Eames was alive and healing. The two facts weren't the extreme contradictions that they seemed to be.
"Tell me this extra enthusiasm isn't due to Ariadne's presence in the house," Dom said, pulling back slightly, but allowing himself to draw Eames into his arms at the same time. "Because this seems like one hell of a coincidence."
The startled expression on Eames' face, which he could see even in the darkness of the room, went a long way to reassuring Dom. As did the light laugh that Eames loosed once he'd recovered from his surprise. "How would that even--" Eames shook his head. "Now you're being ridiculous again." Before Dom could think of anything to say, Eames continued. "I guess this does seem a bit coincidental. But the fact of the matter is that I just... I just feel good today. And I don't know that it has to do with our darling little architect's visit, but I suppose I can't definitively state that it doesn't. You know that I do tend to have a powerful streak of exhibitionism running through me."
"I do," Dom admitted, already feeling completely reassured, as he had expected. "But you know she's in the other wing. There's no chance of her hearing... anything."
"Mm." Eames pressed closer, and Dom could feel the other man's arousal beginning to press hard against the front of his boxers, could feel his own cock twitch in reaction, inside his pajama bottoms. "But just knowing that she knows... that in the morning she'll see the hickeys...."
"Hickeys?" Dom laughed, but it came out more husky than he'd intended, and he allowed his hand to make its way down to where he could palm Eames' firm ass cheek, giving it a quick squeeze, because how could he not.
"I'm game if you are," Eames rasped, and his teeth nipped, sharp but gently, at Dom's chin, then down the angle of his jaw.
"Are you sure?" Dom asked, meaning so much more than hickeys.
"Absolutely," Eames said a third time, and then his lips were plush and his tongue was wet and blunt against the pulse in Dom's neck, moving up to nuzzle at the hollow behind his ear. And it should have sounded silly, his using the same word to reply to three different questions, but it was just hot, knowing that he felt so certain.
Dom sighed, then gave himself mental permission to take and touch and taste as well. Only.... "If there's one twinge, one sign that you're hurting, I'm stopping," he warned, not sure how far Eames intended they go tonight, but perfectly willing to match him step for step. "And I expect you to tell me immediately if I do anything to cause you pain. Promise me."
Instead of saying "absolutely" a fourth time, Eames whispered, "Promise," in Dom's ear, then set about giving him the first of the evening's hickeys.
Dom very much intended that it not be the last, though.
***
The sun was warm and the air was filled with the scent of salt. Eames didn't think he'd ever enjoyed being at the coast more.
Granted, he was restricted to staying underneath the shade that Dom had brought, and the walk down to the sand had rendered him breathless and a little sore, but it was all worth it. Especially watching Pippa and James racing at the edge of the water with Ariadne, and knowing that Dom wasn't able to hide the marks Eames had left on him the night before, even though he'd insisted that the majority of them remain below his collar. Evidently he had forgotten that they had been planning a trip to the beach. Eames found this to be far more amusing than he maybe ought. He certainly knew that Ariadne had found it to be amusing.
Right now Dom was kneeling in the spot where the damp sand met the dry, building castles with his children, his hair windblown and his cheek red. He had never looked so appealing, and Eames felt violently affectionate and fiercely possessive at once. It was just a good thing that he could be almost completely sure Ariadne had no intentions toward his man.
Speaking of Ariadne, she flopped down beside him on the blanket, underneath the shade, her hair damp at the tips, her eyes alight. She was wearing shorts and a short-sleeved top, and Eames thought that it was strange to see her without one of her precious scarves hanging low around her neck. He also hoped she had remembered to put on sunscreen; else her pale skin wouldn't fail to burn. He himself was wearing slacks and a button-up, but that was more to hide his scars and the weight he had yet to put back on than to shield his flesh from the harsh sun.
"How are you doing, Eames?" Ariadne asked, digging in the cooler until she came out with a soda. Despite her distraction, he could tell that she was honestly concerned about him and his health.
"Good," he replied, accepting the second can that she held out to him, even though he wasn't thirsty and had a half-filled water bottle sitting beside him. "As long as I just sit here like a lump, it's all good."
He hadn't meant to sound so bitter, honestly, but it still rankled, the enforced inactivity on a man who had been used to doing whatever he wanted, who was still young and ought to be in his prime.
Ariadne gave him a sympathetic look, but just shrugged. "The kids are happy to be here; that's what matters most, right?" she said. Not demeaning his own angst, but giving him something positive and true to focus on instead.
"Of course," he said simply, smiling at her to let her know he wasn't offended.
She sighed and sank down on the blanket, leaning back on her elbows, her little feet kicking up, bare, toes sandy and wiggling. Someday she was going to make some lucky man very happy, Eames mused with a vague fondness. But not Arthur, and definitely not Dom. He knew it was selfish of him, but he was grateful for both these facts.
"I'm glad you were able to make it this far, though," Ariadne continued, giving him a sunny smile. "It was such a shock, seeing you the first time. You know, after."
Eames sighed and nodded.
"Sorry," Ariadne said.
"No, it's not something to avoid talking about," Eames told her. "As long as the babies aren't around. But it's in the past now."
Ariadne nodded, sipping her soda, her eyes on Dom and kids now. She didn't look as though she intended to move any time soon. Eames didn't mind. Now that he'd had stillness forced on him, he had discovered that it was nice to have someone to be still with. And Ariadne understood so much, without saying everything, without trying to get him to talk about it. She was good company and a good friend.
Down by the water, James was screaming and chasing seagulls. Pippa was on Dom's shoulders, and Eames wished that he was walking with them. Well, maybe after they ate lunch he would have the energy to join them for a slow, short stroll. He didn't want to push things, but neither did he want to be completely left out.
"It's a beautiful day," Ariadne said dreamily, as Dom began herding the children back toward the shade they sat underneath.
"It is," Eames replied softly, raising a hand as Pippa waved wildly and James began dashing their direction, puffs of sand rising underneath his little feet. It really was, in every way that counted. And not just because of the flawless blue sky and cool breeze.
It might have taken three bullets to the chest, but Eames had gotten his fresh start. It wasn't anything he might have ever expected, and it was something of a miracle that he had recognized it when he had seen it, but here he was, and there was nowhere else he would have chosen to be.
Eames had no idea what he would have done without Dom, but the beauty of it was that he didn't have to figure it out. Because Dom was here, and he was here for Dom.
This was their fresh start, and they were in it together, as it should be.
It had taken a long time and a lot of heartache along the way, but Eames had found his way home. It was a dreadful cliche, but home was where the heart was, and this was where Eames was going to stay.
He was home, here in Dom's heart. And Dom was at home in his.
"It's a beautiful day," he murmured, as his family joined him under the shade. And there was nowhere else he would ever want to be.
Dom smiled at him, and there it was; the rest of his life.
Eames smiled back.
[end]