Title: What are you doing New Year's?
Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1609
Summary: Another addition to the college 'verse You're Waiting for a Stranger. This is how Arthur and Eames spend their New Year's Eve.
Notes: Thanks, as always, to R. ♥

Arthur's mom leaves at 6:30 for her party. She asks him about twelve times if he's sure he doesn't want to come along, but Arthur insists that he's got plenty of things to do.

He sits at his computer for an hour as midnight comes and goes in England, but still there's no sign of Eames. He imagines him with a stupid party hat sitting sideways on his head, laughing and having a drinking contest with his brother as the night carries on. He probably hasn't even realized Arthur was waiting for him.

His doorbell rings around 10:00, and he has a moment of wariness that something has happened to his mother before opening the door.

He notices the cab pulling away from the curb first, simply because when he opens the door, the cab is within his field of vision. But then Eames straightens from his stoop on the ground, pulling his messenger bag over his shoulder and smiling brilliantly at Arthur. "Hello, love."

After a moment of staring back, dumbstruck, Arthur hauls him inside, kicking the door shut and pushing him up against it. "What are you doing here?" he asks, and then prevents an answer by shoving his tongue down Eames' throat.

When Arthur pulls away to catch his breath, Eames eases his messenger back off his shoulder and smiles blissfully back at Arthur. "Well I'd be lying if I said that very reaction wasn't part of the answer."

Arthur smiles and leans back in for a more controlled kiss, processing this new information in the back of his mind. Eames is here for an indeterminate time period, but surely for a few hours at least, and Arthur has the house to himself for that expanse of time. He considers where that leaves them, but his brain is stuck on the fact that Eames is here.

"I would have called to warn you," Eames says guiltily, "except I may have left my phone at home."

Arthur laughs, pulling Eames to him in a brief hug before finally backing away. "Eames, did you hop on a plane without any prior planning or regard for other people's opinions?"

"Mm, that doesn't sound like me at all," he says, following Arthur into the kitchen.

He rummages in the pantry for a minute until he finds what he's looking for. He tosses the bag of potato chips at Eames and asks, "When did you make this decision?"

"What time is it now?" he asks, making an appreciative noise as he eats a handful of chips.

"10:15."

"About eighteen hours ago. The six hour layover in Philly was killer," he says, stretching his back, "but luckily I had some reading material to keep me busy."

Arthur had noticed the copy of On the Road sticking out of Eames' bag when he'd found him at his door. He's happy to know Eames enjoyed his gift, but his mind is still stuck on the layover bit. "No wonder you look like you've been run over by a car. Eames, you need to get some sleep."

Eames waves his hand dismissively, tilting the chip bag up into his mouth to get the last of the crumbs. "It's only two hours 'til the big one-one, yeah? I can wait that long." Arthur's sure he still looks skeptical, and that's why Eames continues softly, "I shouldn't have to tell you it's the reason I came all this way."

This once, Arthur doesn't feel too much like lecturing his sleeping habits. Eames approaches him, and Arthur shifts to fit their bodies together, saying without words just how glad he is that Eames came.

Of course, the touching moment shifts rather abruptly when Eames moves a hand down to grope at Arthur's ass. Arthur laughs into Eames' neck, sliding a hand under Eames' shirt to trace a pattern over his skin. "Not that I don't agree wholeheartedly with the sentiment, Eames, but if I make you come in the next hour, there's no way you'll be able to stay awake until midnight."

"You're making 2011 sound better by the minute," Eames says, not looking discouraged in the slightest.

After grabbing the bottle of champagne out of the fridge, Arthur invites Eames up to his bedroom. He's momentarily worried about keeping his hands off of Eames long enough, but pretty soon Eames is teasing him about various relics from his childhood, and they get caught up in stories from their pasts and finish the champagne long before midnight.

Stories of the past shift to stories from last week, dealing with family and hiding out with their computers and each other, and Eames admits to just how much he'd been missing Arthur.

Arthur returns the sentiment, and when Eames climbs on top of him and kisses him soundly, Arthur forgets why they'd been putting this off. Eames grinds down into him, and Arthur clutches at him, pulling him down. He flashes back to that one time they'd started this way and never made it out of their clothes, and he vows not to make the same mistake tonight. He pulls back to say just that, and then notices the clock from the corner of his eye.

"Shit," he bites out, lunging for the remote and pointing it in the general direction of the TV. Luckily, one of the many New Year's Eve shows is on the channel that pops up, and the clock in the corner says 11:58.

"You really don't go for changes in plans, do you?" Eames asks with a laugh.

"Mm, that doesn't sound like me," Arthur says, echoing Eames' statement from earlier. "Come on, Eames. Two minutes. Less than."

Eames heaves a put-upon sigh, then twists around so he can see the screen. Arthur's whole body thrums as the program cuts to various members of the crowd, most of them drunk, and then they start the countdown.

The two of them start counting down at thirty, Eames getting more enthusiastic as the numbers get smaller, and at 'ten', Eames shifts back so that he's looming over Arthur. His eyes are dancing at 'five', and by the time they both say a breathless 'one', their hips are already pumping together.

Arthur pushes at Eames until he's able to flip them over, attacking Eames' mouth as soon as he's comfortable on top. He reaches for the bedside drawer, fingers closing around the lube before he realizes, "I don't have--"

"My bag," Eames says roughly. "Inside pocket."

Arthur hurries over to the bag, ridding himself of his jeans as he goes. The inside pocket is certainly well-stocked, and Arthur can't resist commenting, "Looks like you already had pretty high expectations for 2011."

Eames' shirt lands on top of Arthur's head, and when Arthur tosses it back with a laugh, he realizes Eames has been so kind as to get rid of the rest of his clothes in the meantime.

Arthur wastes no time in doing the same, enjoying the feel of their cocks sliding together for a moment before he uncaps the lube and spreads it liberally, then eases in his index finger. When he gets a second one inside, Eames bucks up and says, "Christ, Arthur, faster or I'm not going to last."

Neither of them last very long in the end. Eames has his hand on his cock before Arthur even starts moving, his eyes intent on Arthur's. Once they get a rhythm going, Arthur gets caught up in the feeling of Eames tight around him, and when Eames rolls his hips in that perfect way without breaking their gaze, Arthur curses loudly and comes, Eames following right after.

"So that was definitely worth the wait," Eames says cheerily, after Arthur has taken a minute to clean the two of them up, throw their clothes in the hamper, and lock the door to his room for good measure.

"Patience has its rewards," Arthur agrees, luxuriating in the ability to curl around Eames' body without needing to worry about one of them toppling off of the dorm-sized bed.

When Arthur slings an arm around Eames' side, Eames curls his fingers around Arthur's hand and hums happily. "Your mum's not going to freak out when she finds out I've spent the night, is she?" He sounds about two seconds from sleep when he asks, but Arthur can hear the vague concern in his tone.

"I told her about you last week," Arthur says. "She'll be surprised to find you here, but I doubt she'll try to kick you out."

"That's good," Eames says around a yawn, and Arthur huffs a laugh against his neck.

"How long are you going to stay?" Arthur asks, hooking his chin over Eames' shoulder. He listens to Eames' even breathing for a moment and bites his lip on a smile when he realizes he's not going to get an answer. He pulls back and presses a kiss to Eames' shoulder before settling in and shutting his own eyes.

"Happ' New Year, 'Rthur," Eames mutters vaguely, possibly in his sleep.

Arthur smiles again, not even opening his eyes. "Happy New Year, Eames," he whispers, and falls asleep with high hopes for the rest of the year.

THE END

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