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i've got this feeling i can't shake
[This gathering isn't anything special, especially not by the "standards" Eames has been discovering over these last few years, but it is one of those things where the Lord of Autumn should make an appearance. A lot of fae and various other types celebrating some minor thing that Eames can't even remember. The drinks are good though, and there is the odd familiar face he actually enjoys the company of.]
[It's all just... Fine. Except for one thing, a fae who is absolutely stunning, unabashedly inhuman, somebody Eames would certainly love to take home were it a different time. But she's not interested in him by the looks of it anyway. During the latter half of the evening, he catches glimpses of her with Arthur, and he could brush off the flirting if it weren't for the way he could see it being reciprocated.]
[It becomes steadily harder to ignore, glances become hard stares with a clenched jaw for lingering moments, barely paying attention to whatever conversation he's found himself in. Entirely more interested in this display he's witnessing.]

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[He hold up the bottle.]
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[Arthur reaches out to take the bottle, calmly putting it down on the grass out of Eames' reach because that's frankly enough of that. It's morning time and the only drink allowed is coffee. Eames can make his Irish later if he wants.]
But it's not like you would have forced me or anything.
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No, never.
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We've all got shit in our heads we can't help, Eames. It's about what you actually do.
[Another drag on the cigarette. How nice.]
'Sides, I was kinda into it while it was happening.
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I just don't want to be someone who thinks of you like... A thing that I own. I don't want to see you talk to someone and get mad about it.
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[He looks back at Eames, a gentle and tired look on his face.]
Do you want me to stop talking to other fae like that?
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[It's instant, he's not about to start dictating who Arthur can speak to or how, even aside from how even something that "small" is enough to make his stomach lurch, it's such a slippery slope. How easily it could become deciding anyone Arthur's "allowed" to see, to talk to. He doesn't want that.]
I don't want to start dictating what you can do. I just have to deal with it.
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[He sighs again, looking down at his cigarette and then back to Eames.]
It's not like I'm shopping around. I don't have to flirt if you don't like it—it's just kind of fun, not a huge loss.
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[He might be a dick but he's not that much of a hypocrite.]
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Well I don't know what to do, then.
[It's soft, a little sad. He wants Eames to be happy.]
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[He sighs softly, quiet for a few moments, and then reaches out to tug lightly on the blanket Arthur's covering himself with.]
Come here.
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I love you so much.
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I love you too.
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I need coffee.
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[And he doesn't want to.]
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One of us would.
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[He laughs softly and plants another kiss on Arthur's face, very reluctantly getting out from under the blanket and separating himself from Arthur to get up and go inside.]
Back in a few.
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