Arthur needs to be in control. As a point man he has to keep his finger on the trigger at all times.
It’s not that Arthur doesn’t know how to have a good time, he does, he just can’t afford to lose control. Everything has to be on his terms, everything has to be a part of his plan. It’s how he’s survived for as long as he has.
It’s the same when he’s with Eames. Arthur makes the reservations, Arthur picks up the phone first and Arthur holds Eames down.
So when Eames left Arthur a message asking him to meet at a hotel in London, Arthur was uneasy. This was a game and Arthur didn’t know the rules and, even if he did, Eames had a nasty habit of cheating. But that night Arthur thought of Eames’ lips and his anxieties were forgotten.
Forgotten until a week later when, on Eames’ instructions, he opened the door to room 510 and saw a note saying, come find me..
Eames’ territory wasn’t a place you walked into unarmed but now Arthur had no choice.
That weekend, Eames took back control. Somehow he was always one step ahead of Arthur, but then again, wasn’t that the very definition of a good thief? When Arthur retreated to his room, Eames was waiting to kick his feet from under him, to rip his best waistcoat, to leave bite marks on his neck. When Arthur undressed, Eames was watching, eyes dark, dark.
As Arthur let Eames devour him, as he let his finger slip off the trigger and dug his nails into the carpet he thought that there was probably a lesson to be learned here, one about trust and maybe about love, but as Eames hauled him up by his braces and grabbed a fistful of his hair, the thought was forgotten.
Travis Bland by Hans Neumann for Harper’s Bazaar Man China
"Eames, would you - you’re supposed to be getting her dressed for God’s sake. Your mother’s plane is going to be on the ground in -" Arthur yanks his hands out of Izzie’s diaper bag to look at his watch, while Eames continues squishing their daughter’s face into increasingly ridiculous expressions. "Twenty-seven and a half minutes."
"Did you hear that, Poppet?" Eames laughs. "Twenty-seven and a half minutes. Your papa’s very precise, he is."
Arthur yanks the zipper on the diaper bag closed and rounds on Eames, a long lecture ready on the tip of his tongue; but seeing Eames sitting there, with Izzie balanced in his lap, it all just falls away, unexpectedly. Eames has Izzie balanced against the length of his arm, one hand cradling her tiny head, and to anyone else it might look like she could fall free at any moment, but Arthur knows that hold; the effortlessly natural way Eames curls himself around the baby like she’s meant to be there. She’s safer in his hands than anyone else’s.
"Something the matter, Darling?" Eames prompts, when Arthur’s heart-struck stare goes on just a little too long.
"No - uh - no." Arthur clears his throat, gives Eames a smile. "You look good. That’s all."
Eames blushes, looks down when he smiles, which only makes Arthur love him more. “Alright, Poppet,” he says to the baby. “Let’s get you dressed, then.”
Tom in the new London, Love sweater by Sarah J. Edwards, Sally A. Edwards & Tom Hardy
"Did you say—" Stiles starts.
"What?" Derek growls.
"We’re not a couple!" they both retort in unison.
"We’re not together," Stiles insists.
Lydia coughs pointedly. “An incident report filed by 87th Precinct Captain Erica Reyes. March twenty-fifth, eight p.m. Came back to the precinct to grab my coat, only to hear Stilinski banging his new boyfriend in the holding cell.”