Sinful.

“This is ridiculous,” Arthur murmurs at Eames.

They’re walking aimlessly around the farmer’s market and Eames is trying a wide variety of fresh fruits and vegetables but not buying a single thing. He’s pulling Arthur along with him, eyes shining brightly, excitedly, kind of like a kid at an amusement park. It’s just that he loves farmer’s markets, okay? He loves the bustle and sunshine and energy, and there’s always vendors selling ice cream and kettle corn and Naan wraps.

“Oh, look,” Eames points out. There’s a pet store nearby and a local animal shelter has brought some kittens to the store in case anyone wants to adopt one. Eames grins and pulls Arthur over, insisting that they go and take a look because Eames loves cats and his mother had one when Eames was little but it died years back and Eames has wanted to adopt another cat ever since.

Eames coos at the kittens and a brief flash of understanding passes through Arthur’s eyes.

“You’re not getting a cat,” Arthur says.

“You don’t know that,” Eames grins, and then he asks one of the women from the shelter if he can hold one of the kittens. The kitten is this tiny little thing, probably not more than eight or nine weeks old, and she’s all black except for her paws, her belly, the end of her tail, and the very tips of her ears. She’s really quite cute and she purrs contently when Eames scratches her behind her ears.

“You can’t be serious,” Arthur says. “Your dorm doesn’t even allow pets.”

“Ah,” Eames says, grinning wider than ever, eyes twinkling in a way that can’t mean anything good for Arthur. “But your apartment building does.”

Arthur looks at Eames like he’s crazy. “No,” he says firmly, “Absolutely not.”

Eames pouts at Arthur. “But just look at her,” he coos, scratching the kitten under her chin. “She’s so precious. If you really can’t find it in your heart to adopt this adorable little thing, then my theory about you being a robot has just been proven correct.”

Arthur snorts, rolling his eyes at Eames and smiling slightly. He still looks a little unsure, though, but Eames is persistent when he wants something and he’s confident that he’ll get his way.

“Do you want to hold her?” Eames offers, and he hands the kitten over to Arthur, who cradles the kitten carefully in his hands.

The kitten is warm and soft and she nuzzles at Arthur’s hand when he goes to pet her, and Eames can see that Arthur’s will is cracking.

“How much is the adoption fee?” Arthur asks, and Eames does a mental victory dance.

The woman tells them it’s seventy-five dollars and there’s a little bit of paperwork they need to fill out, and Arthur heaves an unnecessarily exasperated sigh before handing the kitten back over to Eames and taking the clipboard with said paperwork from the woman. Arthur fills in the blanks in the paperwork with the appropriate information as Eames pets and coos at the kitten. When he gets to the bottom of the form, Arthur pauses and looks over at Eames.

“What are we naming her?” Arthur asks.

Eames looks thoughtfully at the kitten for a moment and the kitten mews softly at him. “James Bond,” Eames says decisively.

Arthur stares blankly at Eames. “Are you on some new medication I should know about?” he asks, tone absolutely serious.

Eames makes a face at Arthur and laughs. “Don’t be silly,” he says, and then he points at the clipboard Arthur’s holding in his hands for emphasis. “James Bond.”

Arthur just looks at Eames like he’s lost his mind for a moment longer before rolling his eyes and filling in the last of the blanks on the form, muttering something under his breath about how James isn’t even a girl’s name, and wow, Eames is possibly the most absurd person Arthur has ever met. He holds the pen out so Eames can sign at the bottom next to where Arthur’s signature already is and then Arthur hands the form to the woman. Arthur and Eames split the adoption cost between them after a brief squabble over who’s going to pay for it, and then they go buy a bunch of stuff from the pet store so they can actually properly raise a cat, and Eames is just really happy. Arthur is noticeably less happy, but Eames thinks Arthur is just being grumpy because Eames is paying more attention to James the kitten than he is to Arthur.

When they get back to Arthur’s apartment and everything they just bought (the litter box, food and water bowls, etcetera, etcetera) is in its place, Arthur leans against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, a little amused as he watches Eames play with the kitten.

“I can’t believe I actually let you talk me into this,” Arthur says, but his eyes are glowing a little too much for his tone to come off as accusatory as he wants.

Eames grins. “Oh, you’ll love her, I promise,” he says. And then he stands and goes over to Arthur to place his hands on Arthur’s hips and kiss him. “And if you don’t absolutely adore her, I’m sure I’ll find a way to make it up to you.”

Arthur hums softly against Eames’ lips. “Is that so?” he says, toying with the hem of Eames’ shirt. And then he smirks a little in that way that sends thrums across Eames’ skin. “You know, you could just make it up to me now.”

Eames laughs. “Darling, you’re insatiable,” Eames purrs, fitting his body closer up against Arthur’s.

Arthur presses his lips to Eames’ neck. “Does that bother you?” he asks.

Eames chuckles. “Of course not.”

James meows by their feet. Arthur scowls but Eames just laughs and bends to pick her up. James purrs happily in Eames arms, perfectly happy now that she’s getting attention.

Arthur sighs and reaches out to scratch James behind her ears. “I think you like her more than you like me,” he says flatly.

Eames wiggles his eyebrows at Arthur. “Jealous?” he teases.

Arthur scoffs. “Absolutely not,” he insists firmly.

Eames chuckles and leans in to press a kiss to Arthur’s lips. “Don’t you worry your pretty little face,” Eames assures him cheerfully. “I promise I’ll still make it up to you, love.”

Arthur smiles one of those rare, warm smiles that make his eyes crinkle at the corners and his dimples show, and he kisses Eames softly. “You’re quite possibly one of the most ridiculous people I’ve ever met,” he tells Eames.

Eames grins and hands James over to Arthur so he can go look in the refrigerator for something he might be able to use to make dinner. Arthur leans against the countertop and watches Eames, absently running his fingers through James’ soft black fur.

“And yet despite said ridiculousness, you’re still with me, so who’s the real loser here, hmm?” Eames says over his shoulder at Arthur.

Arthur laughs and shakes his head at Eames. James climbs up to sit on the kitchen counter and eyes Arthur and Eames curiously, her tail swishing back forth.

“Can I come over sometime next week?” Eames asks. “Perhaps after your classes are over?”

Arthur is quiet for a moment, quickly recalling his schedule in his head. “Sure,” he says. He thinks for a moment longer and then stands, going to the nightstand by his bed. He pulls open the top drawer and rummages around in it for a moment before returning to the kitchen counter. He holds something out for Eames and says, “My classes are over at four, but in case you get here ahead of time.”

Eames holds his hand out and Arthur drops a key into Eames’ palm. Eames raises his eyebrow at this, wondering what exactly Arthur is trying to say with this gesture because often times, Arthur doesn’t say, he just does and hopes that people will get the point, but Eames doesn’t question it and simply pockets the key without a word.