Contents

Fitting

On the one-year anniversary of Eames' very first pot of Arthur's tea, he came in the front door and stood in line like any other customer, as was his habit even now that he and Arthur shared the flat upstairs. Arthur spotted him and flashed a dimple before schooling his face and going back to taking the order of the woman at the head of the line. Arthur was efficient as usual, and it wasn't long before Eames was up at the familiar counter.

"What can I get for you today?" asked Arthur, one dimple peeking out, and then the other joining it.

"Aside from yourself, darling, and a hello kiss? I'd like something celebratory," said Eames. He wondered if Arthur had connected the dates, or if he was holding onto some other day for their anniversary.

"Perhaps something fruity and spicy?" said Arthur, eyes twinkling.

"You are the most perfect man," said Eames, leaning in to claim his kiss and ignoring the irritated huff behind him that no doubt came from Fischer. "Yes, please, a whole pot." Eames still paid for his tea as a matter of honour, but sometimes he left love notes or treats or other such things in the tip bowl these days rather than coins.

Today, he had a very special gift for them both: appointments at Alexander McQueen's shop on Savile Row, to get them each a bespoke designer suit. He slipped the fancy gift certificate they'd given him into the bowl while Arthur rang him up, and paid with exact change just to annoy Fischer.

Arthur picked up the little folder with its foil logo, eyebrow going up, and then opened it up to read the printed card inside, complete with its handwritten appointment times at the bottom with their Savile Row tailors.

"Two appointments?" asked Arthur, looking utterly delighted.

Eames let out the breath he'd been holding and beamed. "I thought you'd like to choose something for me, too. Something you'll want to be seen with me in."

Arthur laughed and kissed him again. "Go sit down so I can make your tea. I can't wait," said Arthur. He tucked the card under the cash drawer and finally took Fischer's order while Eames sat obediently. Arthur then busied himself making a line-up of people's orders in pots, to-go cups, and one tin.

Eames watched Arthur move for longer than he possibly ought before pulling out his latest knitting project. Eames had been filling in the corners of his Halloween design book with some smaller items, after the sweaters and shawls were done and given over to his tech editor. He was doing arm warmers now with a fun colourwork design of snowflakes that morphed into skulls. He'd chosen a deep, bruising purple for the main colour, with a slightly sparkly blue-white for the motif. He'd promised Arthur to make something festive for the household out of the remainder of the white, and he'd been pondering holiday tea cosies.

Arthur dropped Eames' tray off with a quick grin and went to deliver the other teapots to customers. Eames was happy to see a second cup on the tray, which was Arthur's silent way of telling him not to finish off the pot if he wanted company in a bit.

Eames poured himself the first cup, then put his second surprise of the day over his pot, a tea cosy in black cotton with a knitted S picked out in a gold-shot white. He took a sip of his tea and sighed happily, then made it up with the milk and sugar provided. The second sip was like a hit of perfect nostalgia, and his heart skipped a beat to realise that Arthur had remembered that very first pot of tea and recreated it for him today.

"I guess you don't need a card for this one," said Arthur, sitting in the other chair now that all of his orders had been delivered and the line cleared out.

Eames grinned at him. "I still have the first one," he confessed, ducking his head and pretending to pay attention to pouring Arthur's tea.

Arthur grinned. "I know, I found the box of them when I was cleaning the other day. Also that you keep a disturbing amount of cash lying around the house," he said, foot touching Eames' to show that it was just teasing.

Eames chuckled. "It's useful when I need to put my date in a cab," he said, referring to their first date.

"We haven't been to Architect in a while," said Arthur thoughtfully. "It's a good thing I got us reservations tonight."

Eames caught up Arthur's hand and kissed it. "Did you really, darling?"

"He approved of a food-related anniversary, and said something about already having us on the books for our first-date anniversary as well," said Arthur.

Eames laughed. "That was all him, he called me last month to ask if we were going to want to do that every year, because the date was filling up, and I rashly said yes."

Arthur nodded, looking pleased. "He was right."

They both drank their tea in silence for a moment, giving it the attention it deserved, not just for the fine beverage but the memories it evoked. Eames gazed at Arthur with unabashed adoration and wondered how he'd ever been so lucky as to win this beautiful man for his own.

The bell over the door rang as it opened to admit a rush of cold air and customers both. "Perhaps we'll have our suits done in time for that date," said Arthur, leaning in to kiss Eames one more time before getting up, taking his cup with him.

Eames grinned. "We'll ask when we go in," he said, settling into two of his favourite activities, knitting and Arthur watching.

Just like the first time, it was shaping up to be a wonderful afternoon.

---

Architect hadn't changed much since their last meal there, and they took their seats with little fanfare from the staff. Arthur and Eames had become regulars of a sort, and Nash had started nipping into Specificity in turn, often getting a tin of something special to serve at the restaurant. The staff greeted them cheerfully when their first course came out, an aperitif and amuse bouche with some sort of foam atop the drink, and a visibly cold slate holding curls of something frozen.

"He does something new every time we come here," said Arthur, taking the server's silent hint and scooping up one of the curls first, before it could melt.

Eames echoed him and grinned. "And it's always amazing," he commented, then popped the icy treat into his mouth. It melted on his tongue and turned into the subtle burn of peppers amidst a riot of spices that Eames thought might be one of Arthur's herbal tea mixtures brewed up with milk.

Arthur made a surprised sound and then swallowed and grinned. "This is that tea blend he got last week, remember? The herbs and spices thing."

"Did he add the hot pepper or did you?" asked Eames curiously, wishing as he always did for another taste of the creation but knowing there would be more and stranger things.

Arthur chuckled. "That was him, we talked about it but I don't keep that sort of spice on hand, usually. I'm thinking about adding it to my repertoire, though."

"Well, either way, I approve." Eames lifted Arthur's hand and kissed the back. "It's appropriate that we've got your tea for dinner on our tea-date."

"It's a theme," said Nash, coming up behind them. "After word got out about Saito's meal, I've had more requests for nights like this, so I did up another tea menu for the occasion."

"Thank you, then, this is a perfect celebration." Arthur's dimples were showing.

"Yes, ta," said Eames, saluting Nash with his drink. Arthur lifted his in turn and they both drank down the tiny shots, barely a mouthful even with the foam. The tea turned out to be in the foam and not the drink, which Eames couldn't even place though it made him think of coconuts and lychees and tropical destinations. There was something in the bottom that was chewy and sweet and Eames let out a sigh of pure culinary delight.

"Is this that pu-erh you got for us?" Arthur had been rhapsodising about getting to use Nash's connections for it for a week after they got their order in.

Nash nodded. "It is, yeah, it shows up again, but the foam really gets the essence, don't you think?"

"It does, I could taste that distinctive nutty note right away," agreed Arthur.

Eames shamelessly licked a bit of foam off the rim of his glass. "Yeah, I see what you mean," he said, letting the flavours sink in a moment. "Arthur let me share some with him now that he's refined my palate."

"Generous," teased Nash. "I've got to get back, but don't leave until I talk to you. I have a couple more ideas I might need you to send over."

"Of course," agreed Eames, amused at the jealous looks they were getting from the table of A-listers behind Arthur. "I can always deliver it myself, if need be."

"I'm not sure Arthur would forgive me if I fed you without him," teased Nash, letting himself be shooed back into the kitchen to work on the next course.

Arthur laughed. "I'd forgive him eventually," he said, "but I'd make him squirm a little."

Eames leaned over the table to kiss him. "You know I'd never."

"Of course. You've got excellent motivation to stay on my good side." Arthur looked terribly smug about that, which Eames took to be a good sign.

An amazing parade of food followed, with everything from duck eggs injected with tea to cups of pine-laced black tea with pearls of quick-frozen matcha ice cream floating on top and dissolving like icebergs during global warming. Everything held some sort of unexpected twist on tea, the leaves used as well as the brew, and in fact the once-brewed pu-erh leaves showed up in a sauce several courses in, adding a chewy bitterness to the dish.

"I'm glad we brought Saito to Nash," said Eames, when they were sitting back and sipping the cups of simple, first-grade tea that he'd chosen to finish the meal. "It means I don't have to feel guilty when we get special treats."

Arthur chuckled. "Yeah, I suppose that more than justifies a bit of special treatment. Saito tells me they've already made an agreement to buy him a few more pieces of equipment in exchange for another themed dinner."

"Oh? Do we get to attend?" Eames perked up immensely.

Arthur laughed. "Of course we do, though this time I believe the theme is flowers."

"Oh, darling, that sounds like a perfect challenge for Nash." Eames inhaled the tea for a moment, thinking of the floral mix Arthur still loved to keep at home for them both. "And a perfect treat for us."

Arthur grinned. "Well, it's possible I've been stretching my own budget a little to get a few special things for him as well as Nash."

"It helps, having someone to fall back on," said Eames, face soft and full of what he could only assume was adoration. Arthur had given him so much, chasing away Eames' dark moods and occasional temptations with tea and love and requests for fuzzy things to snuggle into, and Eames had repaid him by taking over some of the bills, most notably the rent for both flat and shop.

Arthur looked back at Eames with understanding and an equal measure of affection in his gaze. "It does, and knowing that you want to support my dream makes me willing to go out on those limbs. But you know Saito pays a fair price, and so does Nash, so the shop's doing fine."

Eames grinned. "That's wonderful to hear, darling," he said, a small weight he'd not realised he was carrying slipping away. "I should've known you'd make yourself a success no matter what."

"Feel free to keep giving me designer suits, however," said Arthur, preening a little. "Doing well and buying Alexander McQueen aren't quite the same thing."

They shared a warm laugh and finished off the pot of tea, which brought them a refresh of the hot water and a promise that Nash would be out soon.

"I see why he picked this one, it can be steeped several times," said Arthur. He'd taken over the preparation naturally, and Eames loved watching him with the complex process, timing the brew, straining it into the smaller pot so the leaves wouldn't stew, and then measuring out a cup for each of them. "It's good for people who might have to wait awhile."

"It's just good, too," said Eames, breathing it in and then taking a sip, letting the flavour blossom over his tongue. There was a tiny hint of bitterness but it was balanced by the richer, deeper flavours that swirled atop it, floral and malty in turns. "Did you get some of this one, too?"

Arthur nodded. "This one's from the shop, actually." He launched into a story about acquiring it and having to pay a ridiculous premium the first time he'd gone into the tea shop, but establishing himself as a serious buyer forever after and getting more reasonable prices, especially when he began to buy in larger quantities.

Eames watched him talk and sipped his tea and contemplated how lucky he felt, compared to the way he'd started this day a year ago. "Some things are worth the patience and effort," said Eames.

Arthur grinned back, dimples and a little pink to his ears making Eames' heart skip a beat. "Yeah, they are."

Nash came back over and pulled up a chair this time, a cup of something of his own in hand. "Well, the tea thing seems to be a success."

Arthur traded his teacup for a notebook and pen. "It was really good, better than the last one, I think. I'm really excited for florals with Saito."

"As am I, now that I know it's coming," said Eames.

"Well, next month is that anniversary for you two, so I'll do something fun there. Arthur said something about you having cards from all the tea he's ever made you?" Nash was looking cheerful, conspiratorial, and tired.

"I do, I could copy them all off for you if you wanted." Eames finished his cuppa and signalled for more water. "They're not dated, but they were in order unless Arthur rearranged them."

"Of course I didn't." Arthur huffed and finished off his own last sip of tea. "Did you want to do something with that?"

Nash nodded. "Eames told me such great tales about the teas you've made him, I'd like to see if I can manage some kind of homage."

Arthur's ears got even pinker. "You'd really want to do that?"

"It'll be amazing," said Eames enthusiastically. "I'll scan them and send you some tasting notes or something."

Their hot water arrived, along with another pot of something to refill Nash's cup, and Arthur once again took over dealing with the tea. "Is there anything you'd like me to do?"

"I'll have some stuff to get once I've seen the cards," said Nash. "Hm, actually, can I come by tomorrow and look at them?"

Eames grinned. "Anytime after ten, yeah. Arthur can make us a pot and I'll bring the whole box down."

The conversation moved on to the dinner, with Nash commenting on several things he'd been experimenting with and both of them getting to hear some insider secrets. They talked about the standout dishes and the one that hadn't quite gelled, literally and figuratively. Arthur didn't have any suggestions for the literal issue but he did for the flavor profile, and Nash took notes on a napkin, nodding along.

Eames beamed with pride to see the respect he was affording Arthur, which Arthur had earned and not just gotten as a reflection off Eames' generosity. "We should get going," said Eames, when they'd wandered away from the subject at hand again and started talking about sourcing organic spices. "Get some rest, Nash, you look knackered."

Nash chuckled. "Yeah, I will, thanks." He shook their hands and wandered off, leaving his pot of tea behind.

They each stole a sip's worth before calling the waiter over to take it back to him; Eames had taken care of the payment earlier, so all they had to do was get their jackets and head home. Eames let himself cuddle into Arthur in the car and wallow in the joy of being allowed, not only to touch him but to follow him home, to be kept and loved and wanted by him.

"So," said Arthur teasingly, nipping at his ear, "are you going to fall asleep on me, or am I getting lucky tonight?"

Eames laughed. "Oh, you're definitely getting laid, though I'm the lucky bastard here." He turned his head for a kiss, drinking in the sweetness of Arthur's mouth and the lingering flavors of tea that always seemed to be a part of kissing Arthur.

"I am quite the catch," acceded Arthur.

Eames kissed the dimples that had appeared, and then his mouth again. "I adore you, my magical tea-making man."

Arthur laughed. "That was really stupid," he said, resting his forehead against Eames'. "You're lucky I love you and tea both."

"I really am, my beloved darling," said Eames softly, letting his sincerity shine through this time.

They got home quickly enough after that, and their cab driver didn't even seem to mind the mild snogging that occupied them for the rest of the trip.

---

Eames and Arthur usually shared a quiet breakfast together, rather than Eames lying abed while Arthur got up to work, and today was no different. Arthur made tea and Eames got out the crumpet rings, having challenged himself to learn to make them and then found he liked them a lot. Nash had given them a recommendation for jam, and with the addition of some fruit they had a very nice breakfast indeed. Today the jam was a fascinating bergamot orange that wasn't bitter enough to be marmalade, and Arthur was making an Earl Grey variant tea to go with it.

"There's some berries in the fridge," said Arthur, the first words they'd spoken beyond a few sleepy morning hellos.

"I think there's whipped cream left, let me look." Eames poked around while the crumpets cooked, and soon enough there were two bowls over in the breakfast nook along with the cups and things Arthur had brought over.

A bit more work, and they nestled together on the window seat, trading kisses and eating their food. "Oh, this one's a keeper," said Eames, sipping the tea. It had bergamot and a bit of regular orange, something floral and a warm vanilla note, all of it supported by good, strong black tea.

"I'm pleased with it," said Arthur, sleepily smug. "I love this jam, though."

"If I didn't have you, I'd be very into this jam, it's true," said Eames teasingly. He ate a bit of fruit and cream to put off devouring his second crumpet, feeling very languid and relaxed after their date. "No food can make me swoon like you do, darling."

Arthur dimpled up happily and rewarded him with a jam-sweet kiss. "Mm, the berries and jam are nice, too."

Breakfast didn't take too long to eat, but it was a time they both enjoyed, first making it together and then lingering over the tea and kisses when the food was gone. It wasn't until Arthur's phone beeped a gentle warning that they cleared up and parted ways, Arthur to shower before work and Eames to head to the gym.

After his workout and shower, Eames spent some time in the gym's lounge working on his final surprise for Arthur, a light sweater vest with his bat argyle pattern in subtle, beautiful yarns. Arthur had claimed the first set of sock samples before the first one was even half done, and Eames had already finished the second set, which would match this sweater. It was a lot of work, but Eames already knew Arthur was worth it.

Most of the gym staff was used to Eames' knitting by now, but there were always new patrons who gave quite the strange looks to the muscled tattooed man knitting away in their posh gym. This time when Eames looked up to find eyes on him, however, it was a pleasant surprise.

"Mr. Saito, I didn't know you went here," said Eames.

"Don't stop on my account," replied Saito, coming to sit next to Eames, drink in hand and bag at his feet. "I am trying it out after a dissatisfying incident at my previous gym. Arthur told me you're usually here around now."

Eames nodded, glancing over but continuing to work since he was on a deadline. "You won't tell him about the sweater?" he asked, just to be sure.

"Of course not." Saito agreed immediately. "Do you recommend this gym or merely tolerate it?"

Eames smiled. "It's pretty good. I get looks, as much for knitting as looking like a hoodlum, but the staff all know me and no one dares anything more than some side-eye."

Saito gave a thoughtful sound and fell into silence, so there was just the click of needles against the background noises of the gym itself. "Do you use the spa facilities?"

"Yeah, those are really the reason I stay, along with the weights coach," said Eames. He glanced over at Saito and smiled. "I'm trying to lure Arthur here for a spa day sometime, so let him know how it was if you try it out."

Saito chuckled. "I will." He sipped whatever he'd gotten from the juice bar and made a little face. "It's a shame Arthur doesn't do health drinks as well as tea."

Eames laughed. "Yeah, I don't much like the juice bar here. It's all fresh but they've got no sense of proportion."

"Hm. Perhaps I will make a suggestion that they hire a consultant to reformulate their recipes." Saito sipped again. "This could be good, but there is far too much grapefruit, and it overwhelms the subtler notes."

"Oh, you got that pamplemousse thing," said Eames sympathetically. "They're really into the goodness of grapefruit for your, I dunno, organs and stuff."

Another chuckle, and another thoughtful sip. "Good ingredients, but yes, terrible balance."

"Arthur would flay them," said Eames, taking secret pleasure in the idea. "I'll have to steer him clear if he visits."

They talked more about the gym while Eames knit away, and eventually Saito drifted off without making any overt points, though he had poked around the edges of Eames' commitment to both Arthur and the continued success of Specificity.

Eames hadn't minded one bit; Saito was a family friend of a sort now, and Eames was happy to reassure him that he was Arthur's, and thus so was his fortune. Even if Arthur still refused to put in a snack counter.

He finished up the progress he'd scheduled for the day and got everything parked and put away, stashing the whole project in his gym bag and heading home to have lunch and start his day's proper work.

---

Fed and refreshed, Eames brought the arm warmers down to the shop only to find that Nash had beat him there.

"What brings you here so soon?" asked Eames, going over to his table, currently occupied by Nash and a pot of tea.

"I want my recipe copies," teased Nash, looking very relaxed and happy. "Arthur's making me up some samples, and we finished another shopping list."

"Oh, of course," said Eames. "Do I have time for a cuppa before we go up to make copies?"

Arthur looked amused. "I told you he'd just take you upstairs."

"Finally, my curiosity will be satisfied. I heard you paid Ethel to move that whole yarn wall she built for you." Nash gestured for Eames to sit, pouring a second cuppa from his own pot.

Eames laughed. "I guess we haven't really had people over much since I moved," he said sheepishly. "Anyway, my printer is one of those all-in-ones, so we can make copies up in my office."

Arthur came over and claimed a kiss, having cleared out his waiting customers. "I'm trying to think if there's anything I don't want to give him the recipe to, but honestly I just want to eat whatever he makes out of it."

"I agree wholeheartedly, darling, your teas are amazing but his food is a completely different sort of amazing," said Eames.

Nash just looked amused. "All right, well, don't let your tea cool, this one gets a little bitter if you let it sit."

"Bitter in the bad way," added Arthur, wrinkling his nose. "But it's good like this." He shamelessly stole a sip of Eames' teacup.

Eames smiled and let him.

Eames had his own sip of tea after, and he could taste bright apples and fruit on top of a base of roasted green tea, with some sort of herbal note that wove it all together. "Mm, it's delicious."

"Good," said Arthur, kissing him one more time before heading back to the counter, where yet another pesky customer was waiting.

"You always did have a fine palate," said Nash with a grin. "It's a good thing I'm neither gay nor jealous, or I'd be terribly put out that you never tried to get me in bed."

Eames laughed. "You are so, so straight," he said, waggling his eyebrows exaggeratedly. "I didn't want to offend you and have you stop cooking for me."

That surprised a laugh out of Nash, too. "Well, good."

Eames regaled him with a few more tales of Arthur's best pots of tea while they finished up the one they were sharing, since Nash was very much an appreciative audience. Eames left his bag to hold the table while they nipped upstairs, trusting in Arthur to make sure no one tried to steal his spot -- it was pretty much officially his now, but people did try to poach every once in awhile.

"So, you'll give Arthur a nod in this new menu, yeah?" asked Eames, unlocking the door to their flat proper.

Nash grinned. "He hasn't asked, but yeah, of course I will. I've already given a few customers a referral over here from last night."

"Good," said Eames, pleased.

The wall of yarn had transferred beautifully to Arthur's living room along with Eames' gorgeous river coffee table, but sadly the couch and chairs had been declared too much for Arthur's everyday life. They'd actually gotten rid of Arthur's set as well and replaced everything with the most cuddle-friendly furniture they could find in a soft, elegant grey that offset the afghans draped everywhere.

"This is nice," said Nash, wandering up to see the yarn wall in all its glory. "You two really suit each other."

"We really do," said Eames. "C'mon, my office is back this way." He showed Nash the space that Arthur had given up for him, which had mostly been an unused guest room up until then. He'd recreated his office and library haven, bookshelves and boxes and yet more yarn, along with some reading chairs and a beautiful antique roller desk they'd found together. Eames found the box with his tea cards in it and laughed when Nash proffered him the one from today's tea.

"Ta, I was hoping he'd made one." Eames wasn't even sheepish, proudly adding it to the end of the stack and then bringing the whole thing over to his desk. He turned on the printer and started carefully arranging them to be copied. "It'll be a bit of a job, I suppose I ought to offer you another cuppa."

Nash grinned. "If it's one of Arthur's mixes, how can I say no?"

---

Their appointments at Alexander McQueen were back-to-back on Arthur's day off, and they both dressed up for the occasion, Arthur in a favorite suit and Eames in a dress shirt, trousers, and one of his own sweaters. They'd spent some time on the Alexander McQueen website to have an idea of what they might choose, and Eames was tickled to death at the idea of getting a rose-covered velvet jacket or a suit printed with a map of London. Arthur had hmmed over the more classic looks, but Eames was certain he'd end up with something amazing.

They arrived early and Eames practically skipped as they went into the shop, past the elegant display of accessories and straight to the rack of suits. Arthur, true to form, intercepted the employee and showed him their appointment card, explaining that they were going to consult for each other.

"Look, Arthur, paisley!" said Eames, holding up a jacket covered in a beautifully intricate paisley print.

Arthur laughed and came over to kiss him. "I'm not sure I want to be seen with you in that," he teased, though his tone was indulgent.

Eames grinned. "One of us has to carry the brand proudly," he teased back.

"May I bring you two some tea?" offered the employee. "Feel free to browse, though of course there is a larger fabric selection available to bespoke clients."

"We'd love some, ta," said Eames, hoping Arthur would refrain from critiquing the beverage in anyone's hearing. Or half hoping he wouldn't, because listening to Arthur flay people was its own sort of joy, but he did want good suits for his huge quantities of cash.

"Yes, thanks," said Arthur, sounding a little dry. Once the man left, he added, "I'm not going to insult their tea, Eames."

"Of course not, petal," said Eames innocently. "Come here and look at some of these fabulous jackets with me, perhaps we'll find something for you that's fancier than plain grey."

"I like my grey," protested Arthur, though of course he had a lot of other things and very little plain anything. Arthur, Eames had observed, loved stripes and windowpane check and all the subtle patterns and colours one could get that were almost boring, but rewarded a second look.

Eames had spent the past year giving Arthur second, third, and seventh looks.

"What about this one?" he said, finding a slim jacket in a soft blue-grey.

"Boring, honestly," said Arthur with a chuckle. "I want some kind of pattern, just not, you know, orange paisley."

"Ooh, look at this," said Eames, moving down the line and sharing everything of interest with Arthur. Tea arrived soon enough and a little later two impeccably-dressed tailors followed it, one older and one younger.

"Since we're making two suits as a pair," said the older gentleman, "We were hoping you'd allow my apprentice and I to do both for you as a team."

"I'm for it," said Arthur immediately, dimples showing with delight. He held out his hand. "Arthur Levine."

"Charles Houghton," said the older man, shaking his hand and looking very pleased.

"Neelam Walcott," said the younger, his skin darker against Arthur's where the senior's had been pale.

"Eames," he said, taking his turn at hearty handshakes. "Just Eames."

"It's a thing," said Arthur teasingly.

"We're all set," added Eames, making to set his cup down.

"Oh, no, bring them, we'll have a fresh pot," said Houghton, while Walcott gathered up the tray. "We'll want to sit and have a chat with you both before we get started."

"Brilliant," said Eames, feeling very pleased with how his gift was going so far. "How long does this usually take?"

"Our timeline is generally six to eight weeks, unless a customer is especially challenging to fit or needs a custom fabric," said Walcott cheerfully. He and his tray were intercepted by the greeter, who promised a fresh pot.

They were led back to an elegant dressing room, a bit cosy for four but not unpleasantly so. There were four chairs and a number of books of fabric and designs, as well as an iPad and a neat arrangement of measuring tapes, pencils, pre-printed charts on a clipboard, and tailor's chalk.

"So, are you two hoping to match?" asked Houghton, once they were all seated.

Arthur and Eames both laughed.

"No, I'd never subject poor Arthur to my sense of style," said Eames. He was wearing his coral gansey, in contrast with Arthur's neat windowpane check in navy with just a hint of green.

"Me getting to veto the orange paisley is just part of his gift to me," said Arthur dryly. "But I want Eames' style to shine through."

The older tailor relaxed a little. "Well, then, I think this will be a good lesson for young Walcott. You have very different physiques, as well as styles, so we'll be tailoring you quite differently."

"Where shall we start, then?" asked Eames, rubbing his hands together cheerfully. "Arthur loves brocades, subtle patterns."

"I'd love something that speaks to the brand a bit more than the plain classic suit," admitted Arthur. "And I prefer a three-piece, I wear the waistcoats at work."

"He looks lovely in braces as well," added Eames. Arthur wore belts much of the time, but there was something Eames loved about the peek of braces from beneath his waistcoat when he reached up to the highest shelves.

"With his frame, I can see that," agreed Houghton. "Close lines, modern cut, but with some classic style." He was making notes on the clipboard as he talked, glancing from Arthur to the sheet.

Arthur nodded. "Yes, exactly. I wore one of my favourites today, actually."

"Zegna, right?" said Walcott, eyeing Arthur up in a professional manner.

"From a couple of years ago now, yeah," said Arthur. "It's very well-suited to me, and their tailor there was great."

"Well, from now on you'll be coming to us," said Houghton decisively. "We'll make sure of it."

"If you can take care of us both, it'll be a done deal," said Eames, before Arthur could demur. Eames would be very happy to funnel his fortune into Arthur's wardrobe if it kept his lover looking so very delighted.

"We've got a lovely jacquard with the signature skulls," said Houghton. "Just let me pull the book, hm." He and Walcott spent a moment poking through the fabric books until they handed it over, open to a set of swatches that made Eames think of the sweater that brought them together.

"I want this one," said Arthur, fingers running over the black-on-black embroidery. There were several other shades, including a deep navy, but Eames could see that the black was going to win out just this once.

"It's perfect, darling." Eames pressed a soft kiss to where one dimple was peeking out, Arthur's delight palpable.

"A bold choice, which will do well with a modern cut," said Houghton, making a note on the file. "Would you like to choose the lining fabric and backing on the waistcoat now, as well?"

"Let's choose for Eames first," said Arthur. "Something with colour."

Eames lit up. "What about the peacock feathers?" He had to restrain himself from jumping up to grab the jacket that had been on display.

"Not the red velvet with with the silver roses?" asked Arthur. "That would make a stunning dinner jacket for you."

"Hm, yes, but I want a proper suit this time, if a showy one." Eames grinned. "We'll want shirts and ties as well, though I'll be supplying the socks."

"Eames is a knitting designer," said Arthur. "He's designing a whole book of Halloween things, so I expect he'll manage to make me some fun socks to go with my skull suit."

"That I will, darling," said Eames, feeling very proud.

"We've got a couple of options with the peacock feathers," said Houghton.

Walcott pulled out a different fabric book, this one newer, and flipped it to the peacock feathers. "The black with full-colour feather designs is probably best, and the jacquard will match Mr. Levine's suit in a subtle way."

"I approve," said Arthur, smiling.

"Really, darling? You'd let me wear this gorgeous thing with you?" Eames reached out to stroke a hand over the fine wool and silk embroidery.

Arthur kissed his temple and took his hand. "I'd even let you wear the orange paisley, but I like this better. I like the embroidery instead of the print, and I like the way this will go with that one peacock sweater you have."

"Pardon us," said Eames, and he stroked Arthur's face and kissed him very thoroughly. "Darling, you're amazing."

Arthur smiled at him, all blushes and dimples. "Stop being rude to the tailors, Eames."

"Oh, no, don't mind us," said Houghton, who was busy filling out more forms. "Whenever you're ready, really."

Walcott looked a little discomfited, but he was too busy getting codes off the fabric samples and finding the right style books for their two customers to pay much attention to the kissing.

Eames took advantage for one more kiss. "Thank you, Arthur."

Arthur bumped shoulders and picked up his teacup. "Thank you, Eames."

"So, you'll want something with a cut similar to what you're wearing, correct?" asked Houghton, choosing between two style books that Walcott was holding out.

Arthur nodded. "I like the modern, close-cut look on me, as long as there's enough room to move. I need to be able to bend and reach and climb a ladder, and sit without worrying about the fabric straining anywhere."

"I need to be able to admire him while he's doing all of these things," added Eames.

Walcott chuckled. "These, then," he said, flipping open to a section of the book full of slender men in slender suits.

"I don't want the no-break look," said Arthur. "Half break, please, or a quarter at least."

"Of course, sir," said Houghton, marking that down. "And you dress..."

"Arthur goes right, I'm left," said Eames, slinging an arm around Arthur's shoulders and relaxing. He sipped the tea, though it was bog-standard and nothing compared to Arthur's.

Arthur chuckled. "He is correct."

The tailor marked that, too, down, his unflappable English composure not even slightly ruffled by Eames' shenanigans. "You prefer the full break, Mr. Eames?" Houghton asked, while he had Eames' sheet open marking the other down. There were spaces on the sheet for everything, and Eames had no doubt that Houghton would make sure they were all filled before allowing his customers to take their leave.

"I do, yeah," said Eames. "And a looser cut all around. Double vent on the jacket, and a bit of magic to make me look smaller?"

Walcott cocked his head, and then said, "Oh! You're quite muscular, aren't you?"

"It's my little secret," said Eames with a chuckle. "I should probably ditch the sweater, I suppose."

"When we measure you," assured Houghton. "You don't want a waistcoat?"

"No," said Eames with a smile. "I do want a shirt, though, is there something amazing?"

"Yes, we have two matching ones, a colour one, and white with black print," said Walcott happily. "The whole ensemble is very striking."

"I'll want a shirt and tie as well, but I'd prefer the shirt not match precisely," said Arthur. "Eames can get both shirts."

"There's also the black one with the white collar print," said Houghton. "Three is a bit much to ask, I suppose." A little smile flitted across his face.

Arthur chuckled. "I feel as though you understand Eames better than expected."

Eames beamed. "If Arthur says I may, then I of course want all three. The collar-print one will be good under sweaters."

"That's what I was thinking," said Arthur, kissing his cheek. "I will want one of those classic skull print shirts, too, if we're going all out, and a skull tie."

"Oh, we have a number of ties to choose from," said Houghton. "Perhaps we'll leave that choice for later, but if you want the shirts tailored we'll be better off ordering those now."

"I saw a shirt on the website," said Arthur, hesitating for a moment and then just going for it, "It had these great darts across the front to look like ribs? But it only came in short sleeve."

"A custom item in long sleeve, but not out of the question," said Houghton. He was starting to smile continuously now, like a cat that was getting far more cream than anticipated. "It'll be good practise for Walcott to adjust the pattern for you."

The conversation went on like that, and in the end they each ordered a full suit and three shirts, with ties for Arthur to be added later. Arthur was feeling very spoiled indeed to be able to shop like this and know it was within the very generous budget Eames had set out for them -- he'd asked near the end about their approximate total and been relieved, which had in turn made Houghton nearly hum with pleasure at the thought of having nabbed some generous future clients.

The measuring was a matter of minutes, both of them stripping to underpants and socks, then moving and walking as well as being measured. The older tailor expertly eased them from the general to the specific while the younger one took the actual measurements and discussed their individual requirements. By the end, every detail was nailed down and they could put down their very large deposit. An appointment was made for four weeks to try on the muslins, and then their little idyll in the world of high fashion was over and they were back out on the streets of London, dressed in their good clothes and free for the rest of the day.

"Let's go have high tea somewhere," said Eames playfully. "You can be snobbish about the brew and I'll enjoy the tiny sandwiches."

Arthur laughed and hailed a cab. "Come on, I know just the place."

---

They didn't have their new suits for their next dinner at Architect, either, but Eames had something he hoped was just as good laid out on the bed while Arthur finished up his post-work shower. He'd had to get Ariadne to block them, but she'd slipped them back to him two days ago, the sweater and socks both intact and ready to wear. Eames found the trousers he loved best on Arthur and was pleased to see they matched the lighter grey, which was an argyle pattern in shades of grey and dusky violet, with the bats in black.

A freshly-laundered shirt was next, light grey with barely-violet pinstripes, which Eames had helped him pick out a few months ago, after he'd chosen the yarn. He was hoping to get Arthur to leave off the tie, and he was contemplating cufflinks when he heard the shower shut off.

"Will you leave your hair soft for me tonight, darling?" asked Eames, sauntering over to the bathroom door, which was ajar to let the steam out.

Arthur turned and grinned at him, naked and towelling off. "Yeah, of course," he said.

Eames had to step in and kiss him very sweetly indeed. "Darling, you do know how to romance me."

"I really do," said Arthur, looking smug. "I have your gift ready."

"Well, since you couldn't have yours just yet, I might also have something else for you, too," said Eames. He took Arthur's hand in both of his and led him out of the bathroom to look at what awaited him.

Arthur laughed, dimples on full display and voice full of joy. "Oh, my god, are these new socks? And this is that shirt you picked out...Wow, Eames, this is amazing." He turned and kissed Eames again, pressing against him.

Eames let his hands wander over Arthur's flushed, damp skin for a good long moment before pulling back. "Reservations."

"Reservations, right," said Arthur. "And Nash has been hinting all month at whatever he's got planned."

"He's very happy with me for dating you," said Eames with a chuckle. "I thought you might choose my outfit, too?"

Arthur picked out some boxer briefs from his drawer, grey to match the rest, and smiled at Eames. "I'd like that, yeah. Thanks, Eames."

"You are very welcome, my love." Eames brought over the shirt and helped him into it, the two of them choosing cufflinks and getting him into the rest of his clothes amidst kisses and soft words of affection. Once Arthur was dressed from head to toe in Eames' choices, it was Eames' turn.

"Are these pants acceptable?" asked Eames; he'd shucked the rest of his kit, but was still wearing the knitted silk boxer briefs he'd put on after his shower earlier.

Arthur chuckled. "Yes, but you still have to wear trousers," said Arthur, coming up behind him to fondle him through the silk. "I'd only get jealous."

Eames turned and kissed him, warm and sweet, and Arthur perused Eames' side of the closet. He chose a warm sweater and a shirt to go under it, the close-fitting white one that Eames had worn on their first date. The sweater was one that Arthur loved, much to Eames' surprise. He'd knit it with a complex colourwork pattern of dancing paisleys that ombre faded from a deep purple at the shoulders down through blue and turquoise to include a hint of white along the bottom. There were little bright pops of other colours that showed up unpredictably, and it made Eames think of the way Arthur included unexpected flavours in his teas.

"I love that you like this one," said Eames, pulling Arthur in for another kiss. Eames put the shirt on while Arthur found Eames' best-tailored grey trousers and a matching belt, and even chose Eames' favourite pair of cloud city socks to go with them.

"Gift now or gift after?" asked Arthur impishly.

"Oh, definitely now," said Eames. "I'm going to want to unwrap you straightaway after, no distractions."

Arthur laughed as he was meant to, and got two wrapped packages from the top of his side of the closet. "Here you are, then. I hope you like them."

"I know I will," said Eames. He took them out to sit on the bed, unwrapping the smaller one first. It held a set of very fancy sock needles in carbon fiber with nickle-plated brass tips, six different-sized sets of five double-pointed needles, all of them in a fancy carrying case. "Oh, Arthur, these are beautiful!"

Arthur relaxed, grinning. "I'm glad you like them, they helped me pick them out at the shop."

"I love them," Eames reassured him. "I'll be sure to show them off at every opportunity so she can order more." He set them aside and picked up the second one, a box that he expected would contain yarn.

Instead, it held a carved wooden box containing another whole set of needle sizes, this time in pairs for knitting in the round. Beneath that layer there were cords and keys so he could switch them out depending on the project, just like his year-old wooden set but in the same carbon fiber as the sock set.

"Oh, wow, Arthur..." Eames set them aside and stood, tugging his lover close and kissing him deeply. "I'm going to knit you so many things with these, my love."

Arthur beamed at him in reward. "You already have," he said, running his hand down his front and up Eames' front to kiss him again. "These were just... I wanted you to have some tools as beautiful as the things you create."

Eames melted and then grinned, dipping Arthur dramatically to kiss him one more time. Arthur's phone beeped their warning that it was time to leave and Eames nearly dropped him, and they laughingly got themselves straightened up, shod, and out the door in their warm coats and handmade woollens.

They were quiet in the cab, holding hands and exchanging warm looks on the ride over. Eames was bubbling with anticipation for the meal; Nash had been hinting at his ideas all month just to tantalise them. "What are you most looking forward to, love?"

Arthur smiled. "I know you mean the meal, but really I'm looking forward to another year of you," he said, leaning in for a kiss. "But also the florals and pine needles."

Eames laughed. "Christ, yes, years and years of you, my darling." He kissed Arthur softly. "But also the flowers, and wow, can you imagine what he's gotten up to with all those things he keeps buying?"

"I swear some of the stuff he got through you just to taunt us," said Eames with a chuckle. "I'm really fascinated with all of it, though."

The cab pulled up at the restaurant and Arthur paid while Eames got the doors for him; after a year of being together, they didn't need words between them for everything to go smoothly. The restaurant was full and there was a buzz of anticipation, everyone looking up when Arthur and Eames came in.

Eames blinked and felt his cheeks go hot when everyone clapped.

Nash emerged from the back with a grin. "I see the founders of our feast are here. Arthur and Eames are having their one-year anniversary, and this menu is dedicated to the many amazing cups of tea that Arthur's made for Eames at Specificity, as well as the beautiful things Eames knits." Nash pulled up his pants to show off one of his pairs of handknit socks. "So tea, lamb, and other mysterious things will feature."

Arthur was the first to blink off the surprise and go shake Nash's hand, and there was another round of applause and then servers emerged from the back with drinks for everyone. Nash brought Arthur and Eames back into the chaos of the kitchen to sit at the chef's table.

"I thought you didn't go for chef's tables?" asked Eames, getting seated anyway, his coat and Arthur's hung up on a nearby coatrack full of employee garments.

"I trust you guys," said Nash with a shrug. "Plus, this way I can test out how annoying it is, and charge more if it's not. I can only bug Saito so many times for equipment."

They shared a laugh at that and then were presented with their own aperitif cocktails, and the first of the plates of amuse bouche being finished off and sent out into the dining room.

Nash raised his own little glass of liqueur and said, "Enjoy, yeah?"

Eames laughed and toasted him. "Most assuredly."

Arthur snorted. "And also to anniversaries and tea and all that," he added dryly.

They clinked glasses and drained their glasses in one good sip, and Eames let out a sound of pure pleasure. "Oh, that's so much like that first cuppa, only the fruit is different, I think?"

"Pear," said Nash, nodding. "Quince liqueur is surprisingly hard to find."

"It's really good," said Eames with a grin.

Arthur nodded. "It's pretty amazing, we might need a bottle if you can manage it?"

"Yeah, I had to get a case so I'm happy to sell you one," said Nash with a grin. He took their glasses himself and then got called away, leaving them to try their treats while he did something obscure with a vat of liquid and a syringe.

The amuse bouche was a bit of puff pastry dusted with sugar, or at least that's what it looked like until Eames popped it in his mouth. The layers proved to be fruit sliced to exquisite thinness, with some sort of bright, grassy tea flavour in the crystals.

"So this is that second cuppa," said Eames cheerfully. "Papaya, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, and green rooibos," said Arthur. "He's crystallised the tea somehow, maybe with honey? This papaya pastry is so cool."

Eames laughed and kissed him. "Darling, I adore you."

There wasn't time for more than that before another pairing was set down, this time two small cups of fragrant, milky black tea and a small plate each that seemed to be a small salad made largely of edible flowers and unfurled, already-brewed tea leaves.

The tea was a plain, serviceable sort of everyday tea that reminded Eames of Yusuf's "proper bloody chai," but one bite of the salad reminded Eames of that rainy day in Arthur's shop, working off his bad mood with tea and knitting. There was some kind of sweet vanilla dressing on the flowers, and Nash had done something to cut the bitterness out of the tea leaves so that everything was surprisingly light. There were a few surprises hidden in the layered pile to give it a bit of crunch, but overall it was soft and fragrant with little else to distract from the rich and complex flavours.

It wasn't until the last sip of tea was gone that Eames came up for air, looking over to find Arthur had a similar expression of stunned bliss on his face. "This meal is almost as good as that thing Eames does with his tongue," said Arthur.

Eames cracked up, and took Arthur with him. "It's only just begun, you might find yourself trying to trade me in for Nash by the end of the night."

"I'm straight," said Nash, without looking up from where he was helping them layer the last of the floral salads for the rest of the diners. "But feel free to tell everyone you know that I rated so highly."

They giggled and sipped water and fell into an easy conversation about the food and the tea and everything in between, fitting easily into the restaurant's rhythm by letting their own conversation keep flowing even when the kitchen staff was too occupied with work. Each course was stranger and more delicious than the last, setting Eames on a very long and somewhat emotional memory lane about the many cups of amazing tea that Arthur had made for him.

The amazing tea that Eames privately thought of as his tea of a thousand flowers was broken down and spherified so that each little bubble burst with a hit of a single flower drowning in delicate tea. Nash made a vapour of dried pine needles to go with one course, and another one featured transparent ravioli filled with green tea and pine pesto. There was a parade of small desserts at the end, one of which featured a blown-sugar fruit filled with powdered, freeze-dried ice cream and topped with yet more fresh fruit in its own sauce.

The very final item was a pot of the same pu-erh tea they'd shared at the last meal, with Nash coming to sit and share it again while the staff took care of the other diners.

"Well, that was fucking amazing," said Arthur, after setting the tea up for its first steep.

Nash laughed, running his hands through his hair and then replacing his chef cap. "I'm really glad, because that was a lot of work."

Eames beamed. "It was perfect, like revisiting my entire relationship, only remade all new. I've never loved Arthur more."

Arthur looked startled and dimpled up adorably. "Why me?" he asked Eames.

Nash, however, was the one that answered. "Because you're the one who came up with all these ideas, and you were limited to just cups of tea, where I have all the world's worth of food and I still had to steal ideas from you."

"No stealing was involved," said Eames. "But yes, that's exactly why, because you're so good at what you do that you can inspire my other friends into stepping up their game, too."

Arthur was growing redder by the moment, but also looking more delighted and practically glowing from the praise. "Well, then, I accept the extra love on behalf of my tea."

They all shared a laugh, and Arthur poured and passed out the cups, which were light and subtle on this first brewing. They shared a silent toast, this time, Eames thinking of how fortunate he was to have stumbled upon such people in his life, instead of ending up face-down in a gutter with his wallet and kidneys both missing. He had no idea what thoughts occupied Nash and Arthur, but he hoped he was in Arthur's, at least a little.

When that cup was gone, Arthur started the second brew; Nash had brought over a carafe of filtered water and a tiny camping kettle to boil fresh each time.

Nash shook himself out of his reverie and said, "Saito's already requested a repeat of the menu for himself and guests, and told me to see if you guys wanted to come?"

Eames' eyebrows went up at Nash's uncertain tone. "I have no idea what ever gave you the idea that anything of yours isn't worth eating a hundred times, but I would absolutely love to have this meal again."

"I bet there's a lot of subtlety we can get a second time around that was lost on us this time," said Arthur, enthusiastic. "I'd really love to have it again, if there's really room for us."

"There's room," said Nash, beaming with just a trace of that shyness left. "I'm really glad Eames brought you to me, Arthur. You're a good friend."

"Oi, I'm a good friend, too!" protested Eames teasingly.

They joked around for the rest of their tea, which they steeped a total of four times, though the last one was very pale and bitter. Eames thought it was a good end to the meal, though, something to shock the palate back to normal after all the richness and subtlety and layered strangeness of the meal.

"My actual anniversary gift to you is to pick up the tab," said Nash, standing up and giving them both a light slap on the shoulder. "So go home and celebrate and never tell me the details, yeah?"

"Promise," said Arthur, still grinning with full dimples on display, though his blushes had died down. "We'll see you soon, yeah?"

"Yeah," promised Nash. "I'll need more tea, I'm sure."

"And we'll try to make time more often for this," said Eames. "If you think you can make space."

"You're good kitchen guests," said Nash. "My table's always open for you."

On that note, he let one of his sous chefs lure him back out to the main dining room, leaving Arthur and Eames alone in the kitchen.

"Well, I'd say that was a success," said Eames, leaning across to kiss Arthur sweetly. "Shall we?"

"Yeah, it was, and yeah, we will," said Arthur teasingly. He stood up and helped Eames into his coat, letting Eames help him in return, and they were still kissing when a random server wandered back in with some dishes.

"Oh, don't drop those," said Arthur, moving to help the startled young thing.

"We weren't shagging in your kitchen, promise," said Eames. He palmed some cash and, once Arthur had relieved the poor soul of their burden, handed it off. "You make sure everyone shares that, yeah?"

They looked at the small wad of tens and twenties and nodded, grinning. "Thanks, Mr. Eames, Mr. Arthur."

"You're welcome," the two of them replied in near-unison, so that they were all laughing when the next staff member came back in with a similar burden.

Arthur and Eames took this chance to escape, catching a cab back home and heading straight for bed to celebrate a year of having finally found each other.

---

A few days later found them in easy-to-remove clothing and back at Alexander McQueen for their first fittings. They were greeted with, if not warmth, at least familiarity, and were shown immediately back to the same fitting room, where Walcott was already pouring the tea.

"Welcome, welcome," he said cheerfully. "Mr. Houghton's just getting the muslins, he sent me ahead since you were early last time, too."

"Ta," said Eames, when handed a cup of tea made just how he liked it. "You've got a good memory."

"Oh, we write it all down," said Walcott with a laugh. He handed Arthur a cup and got a quiet thanks in return. "If you're with us for more than this one splurge, we'll keep all sorts of notes in your file so we can really give you the best possible service."

Arthur paused in his sipping just long enough for Eames to wonder if he was going to choke, holding back his laughter. He managed to swallow without incident, however, and said, "Well, we'll try to manage at least once a year."

"An anniversary tradition worth having!" said Houghton, coming in with two suit bags held aloft. "We'll start with Arthur, he's got the easier fit, but do finish your cuppa first."

"Thanks," said Arthur, sitting next to where Eames had settled. "I mean, assuming these turn out, it seems like a worthwhile tradition to start, right?"

"Exactly right," said Eames, giving Arthur the sweetest of kisses. He couldn't honestly imagine a better use for his fortune than making Arthur happy, dressing him in the suits he thought he'd have to give up, helping keep the tea shop open for the both of them. Not to mention for the community of friends they'd found there; even Ariadne had taken to stopping in frequently to knit and gossip, once Arthur got over his initial jealousy.

Arthur gave him a look that promised a reward when they got home and then beamed at Houghton. "So, go on and take all the notes you like. If the suits are as gorgeous as we hope, then we'll definitely be back."

"Very good," said Houghton, looking very satisfied himself, albeit in a much more stuffy manner.

Arthur finished off his tea in one swig and stood, going over to the dressing screen to start undressing. Houghton took his time hanging up the muslins before handing Arthur the pieces one at a time, the two of them murmuring about seams and drape before Arthur even emerged in the trousers, braces, and a shirt.

Despite the white basting and chalk lines, Eames could see the suit that it would be in his mind's eye the way he often did with knitwear. The fit was close, like many of Arthur's suits, but the trousers hugged and moved with him in ways that made Eames want to fall to his knees. The shirt, too, hugged Arthur's slender form, and he moved and walked and lifted his arms so that Hougton and Walcott could both see what needed adjusting. The older tailor would wait for his apprentice to point things out and correct them himself, or vice versa, so that Eames and Arthur also got to see and hear what adjustments would be made and why.

"All right, waistcoat next. Please fix the shirt the way you normally would before putting it on," said Houghton, while Walcott went and got them all a strengthening refill on the tea.

Arthur came out restored, the waistcoat nipped in and hugging the shirt even closer to his body. He accepted the tea gratefully and let them poke and prod him between sips, though this item seemed to pass muster with fewer alterations. They let him finish his cup before the jacket went on over the rest. It wasn't quite as close-fit as the trousers or waistcoat, hinting at instead of skimming over the form beneath and giving Arthur more room to move. The shoulders had the characteristic boxy shape for the brand, which flattered Arthur immensely. Two buttons and flap pockets made it seem almost traditional, but Eames knew it would be outstanding in the skull jacquard they'd chosen.

"Darling, you're beautiful," said Eames, unable to hold his admiration in any longer.

Arthur turned to him and grinned. "I am in love with this suit and it's not even a suit yet," he said.

"That's a very good sign," said Walcott, adding one last mark to his cuff. "Now, if you'll please take it off, we can make sure it's actually a suit next time you visit us."

"Give me your cup, there's a love," said Eames, getting up to claim a kiss and get one up-close look at the suit. "I'll freshen this up while you change, and then it'll be my turn." He wiggled his eyebrows at Arthur just to watch his dimples deepen.

Eames took over playing mother for this round, leaving his own cup empty since it would be his turn to strip very soon. "You made more adjustments than I expected," said Eames idly, handing Houghton his cup.

"A man like your Arthur needs a very exacting fit for the opposite reasons as yourself," said Houghton, taking a sip.

"To display rather than downplay," said Eames, nodding. "Well, you definitely have him at his best."

"And now, you," said Houghton, nodding to where Walcott was getting the suit out of his bag.

Eames grinned. "And now me." He took the offered hanger from Walcott and a kiss from Arthur, who emerged mostly dressed with his sweater vest over one arm. "Don't forget that Arthur needs to choose ties."

"Final fitting," said Arthur, rolling his eyes. "We'll get pocket squares, too."

"I'll have to get your skull socks done by then," said Eames, vanishing behind the screen to strip out of his own ensemble. He echoed Arthur's choices from earlier and slipped into the shirt and trousers, surprised to find that he, too, had been given braces in lieu of a belt. The trousers were a loose, straight-leg cut that flowed when he walked, breaking fully over the shoes he'd put back on and hiding the girth of his thighs and calves while still looking smart and well-cut.

The shirt fit more closely, so as not to bunch under the braces, but something about the way it flowed over his arms and shoulders kept him from looking like a bouncer.

"The collar is designed to look good with or without a tie," said Houghton, as Eames emerged. "Arthur's as well, though it's a more modern shape."

Arthur's face said that the fit was as flattering as Eames hoped, and so he good-naturedly allowed them to poke and prod and nip and tuck him, marking things here and pinning things there. The shirt was more of a close fit than he'd originally intended, but they managed to do something interesting with the body and sleeves to work with the braces and still minimise the breadth of his shoulders. With a pattern rather than the plain working fabric, Eames would look like any other posh bloke.

"I'm feeling more and more sanguine about coming back by the minute," said Eames cheerfully, in response to being handed his mid-fitting cuppa.

Arthur chuckled and came over to bestow a mid-fitting kiss to go with it. "I knew you'd see it my way," he said.

"I'm very happy with the challenge," said Walcott, looking genuinely delighted.

Houghton retrieved Eames' jacket muslin from behind the changing screen. "Every client presents a unique challenge, but the two of you together are giving him quite the range of new experiences."

Eames allowed himself to be slipped into the jacket and relieved of his now-empty teacup, and then went through the same dance Arthur had with standing, raising his arms, twisting and bending, testing the fit and making sure it was neither loose nor strained. Eames' jacket had only as much padding in the shoulders as it needed to keep its shape, stiffening the fabric without adding any unnecessary bulk to his already-bulky frame. The side vent in the back better disguised his thick middle, and the cut of the arms subtly brought attention off his biceps and down to his wrists and hands.

"This is perfect," Eames said, looking at himself in the mirror. "I love whatever it is you've done here to make it look good even in this thin fabric."

"Next year I want you to get something that shows off your muscles, though," said Arthur from where he sat. "Just to indulge me."

"Next year," promised Eames recklessly. He felt an ache of longing for this exact future, of Arthur so sure of Eames' place in his life that he'd make promises for years from now. "But the year after I want a proper dinner jacket."

"Sounds like a good plan for both of us," said Arthur, beaming at him with something akin to the joy Eames felt in his own chest.

Walcott and Houghton exchanged pleased looks, and Walcott was the one who added, "You'll come to us for your wedding, too, of course."

"Should you choose to go that route," added Houghton, looking amused rather than censorious at his apprentice's eagerness.

"Should we choose," said Eames, giving Arthur a wink. He went back to bending and reaching as directed, the two of them talking about gussets and seam allowance as though he wasn't there.

"Will you be bulking up further?" asked Houghton, after a long and technical discussion about Eames' underarm fit.

"Ah, no, I mostly try to maintain these days," said Eames, glancing over at Arthur. "Unless my darling has a preference otherwise?"

"I like you like this, you can still do yoga with me on Sundays," he said, eyes dangerously twinkling.

"Well, I'd hate to lose such valuable flexibility," replied Eames, flirting. Their Sunday mornings were generally less yoga and more tantra, as it were, but Eames appreciated both of their athleticism on the days they were feeling experimental rather than sleepily affectionate.

That seemed to settle something between them, because a few more lines and pins, and he was being shooed back behind the screen to change into his own clothing.

"Two weeks this time," said Walcott, pulling up their appointment app on the iPad. They had one last cup of tea, emptying the pot between them as they got the appointment set up.

"There will likely be one last set of alterations before you can pick them up," said Houghton, "but we're very much looking forward to seeing you two in your final garments."

"We all are," assured Arthur, looking pleased as punch. "I'm really glad we both got the extra shirts, too, I can tell they're going to become favourites."

"I'm not sure even I can redo your entire wardrobe in bespoke shirts," teased Eames.

"One year at a time," replied Arthur, looking like a cat who'd been given the exact treats it meowed for.

"One year at a time," said Eames, pulling him in for another kiss. They shook hands with the tailors and parted ways. Arthur and Eames found an ancient pub this time to sit in the back garden and talk about fashion and furniture and their futures in sometimes wildly improbable ways, but ones that appealed to them both on such an afternoon. They ate pub food and took a cab back, ready to resume the better-than-ever versions of their regular lives.

The first thing they did when they got home was share a pot of tea.

---

Eames cast on a new pair of socks the very next day using his fancy new Karbonz needles. They were a delight to use, and he'd broken into his stash of someday wool to start knitting up the very last pair for his Halloween book. He was using a soft-as-air sock weight yarn in the most delicate of cobweb greys to create a single-colour design of swirling ghosts.

"That's a nice yarn," said Arthur, setting the tray down in front of Eames. It was a quiet afternoon in the shop; Eames had waited out the lunch rush before coming down. Arthur sat and poured for two, the fragrance of soft summer flowers and fruit wafting up in a cloud of steam. "I like grey."

Eames' mouth quirked. "I know you do, darling," he said, thinking back to the first pair he'd made Arthur, which were still a favourite.

"Are these for the book?" asked Arthur, sipping his tea. He claimed the ball of wool, stringing it out between them so he could cradle the soft thing in his lap like a pet.

"And you," said Eames. "Last pair of socks, and then I think that's it. I have to double-check with Dominique to see if I've made my page count now." He was working toe up, creating the sock one stitch at a time, going from a circle to a cup as they chatted.

"And me," Arthur repeated, a little smile on his face. "What's the theme?"

"Ghosts." Eames knew he sounded stupidly proud of himself, but he'd been trying to think of one last sock idea for weeks now. "Hence the spooky grey."

A dimple appeared as the smile widened. "You know how I love my spooky stuff," he teased. He'd put a single, intricately carved resin skull out for Halloween this year and it had garnered more comments than it deserved.

"I really do," said Eames. They'd made plans to do a very tasteful winter holiday display this year, too, but it wasn't yet time to break out the vintage decorations they'd acquired. Eames had vague plans to knit a spiderweb shawl of fine, fuzzy yarn for a cobweb next year, but he wasn't sure Arthur would agree that it belonged anywhere in his neat shop.

They shared a moment of silence as they each sipped their tea, which was delicious as always, a lovely breath of sunshine in the dreary London day.

Eames let himself get halfway through the cup before he picked up his needles and got back to work. "How are our regulars doing, anyway?" he asked, enjoying the lull of having Arthur nominally all to himself inside the shop.

"Saito wants me to hire an apprentice, his word," said Arthur. "Yusuf keeps pushing the end of the day envelope, and I keep letting him because he tips better the later it is."

"And there's our poppet, trying to keep today's scarf from vanishing," said Eames. "I'm giving her the arm warmers today."

The bell rang as Ariadne managed to wrestle scarf, bag, and door all into submission, and she beamed brightly and made a beeline for the two men, with Saito following silently behind her. "I'm so glad to see you guys, it's been a helluva day." She snagged an extra chair and flopped into it on Arthur's far side, small enough to fit in the sliver of table space left.

"Whenever you finish your break," said Saito, putting his cash and tip in the appropriate places and going to sit at his own usual table.

Eames chuckled. "Now we just need Yusuf and the whole group will be here."

The bell rang again, but this time it was Robert, looking windblown and disgruntled as he strode up to the counter.

"Duty calls," said Arthur, kissing Eames sweetly. "Come get a cup, Ari, you can help him finish that pot and I'll make you guys something citrusy."

"Blessings be upon you," she said earnestly, following him up to the counter.

Arthur passed her the china and then rang up Saito before smiling at Robert. "What can I get for you today?"

"Something holiday-ish," Fischer said, sounding more tired than usual and almost sad. "And I want a pot today, please."

"Holiday like mulled wine and pomanders or more like evergreens and fresh snow?" asked Arthur, looking interested.

"Um, the first one, I think. Something warming." He had his wallet already out and was fiddling with it.

Arthur nodded and rang him up. "Eight seventy," he said, accepting the twenty with grace, making change and looking surprised when it all ended up in his tip bowl. "Um, thanks."

Robert shrugged. "You earn it." He went over to the other table far from the door, on the side of the counter where he couldn't really watch Arthur but wouldn't get too much of a draught.

Ariadne leaned in and whispered to Eames, "I heard his father's dying."

Eames finished adding honey to her cup and handed it back with a nod. "Arthur will take care of him."

She sipped and made a noise that might have been agreement, and might have been pure joy at the taste of the tea. Eames topped up his cup, which emptied the pot, and wondered at the turn his life had taken when he was concerned about the feelings of a toff like Fischer. He couldn't help but conclude it was a good one, especially after another mouthful of Arthur's tea.

"Arm warmers are in my bag," said Eames. He handed that off to her, too, and picked up his sock.

"Toe up for once, huh?" she asked, rummaging for the project bag. "What's it gonna be?"

"Ghosts," said Eames, pleased with himself. "Which should get Dom off my back about the book, once I have them written up and off to you."

"Well, if I can ever figure out what you did here that isn't working for me," she said, pulling out her own arm warmer test sample and turning his inside-out to get to the colourwork on the back. She peered at it suspiciously, as though it might be defying the laws of physics or possibly out to get her.

Eames chuckled. "You'll get it, poppet, I have every faith. I swear I didn't do anything particularly funny with those."

"That's what you said about the skull sweater," she replied darkly.

Eames smiled angelically.

Saito's tray was the first delivered, and Robert's next, set gently down and the card slipped onto the tray with a murmured, "Tell me how you like it." Arthur got back behind the counter just as the final timer started to beep.

Eames set his sock aside again and brought their dirty china up to the counter, cups and all. This got him a grateful smile as Arthur set up a fresh tray, only stealing the milk off the previous one. He paid for the tea with a kiss and a tenner, and took the tray back to their little table to pour. He and Ariadne settled into a quiet afternoon of work, tea, and murmured conversation, mostly about the knitting. She managed to figure out where he'd cocked up his instructions and get several inches of arm warmer knitted past the problem spot, and Eames got nearly to the heel on his new sock.

Fischer actually stayed, tapping on his tablet and ignoring the occasional buzz of his phone. Arthur went over and talked to him a little, and though Eames couldn't really hear what they said, another pot of tea was the final result so it must have been nice enough. Yusuf swanned in at quarter to closing, and Arthur rolled his eyes and pointed toward a table, after accepting more of Yusuf's money than usual.

Saito, too, had stayed until closing today, and when Arthur locked up there were more customers inside than usual. Arthur brought a third and final pot of tea over to join Ariadne and Eames, sitting with a soft smile. "How's everything going?"

Eames let Arthur pour, bringing the sock to a good stopping point and carefully stowing it away in his TARDIS project bag. "It's going pretty well, I'll show you once I've turned the heel."

"I figured out that Eames is insane," said Ariadne, looking amused. "But now I know what he's done to us, so I can fix it."

Eames was going to defend himself, but then Saito came over to their table. "Thank you for letting me stay, Arthur. Have you considered my suggestion of an apprentice?"

"I've been thinking about it," said Arthur, "but I'm not sure how I'd find and hire one. I'm not an actual master of any kind."

"I believe I might have a candidate," said Saito with a little self-satisfied smile. "One of my nephews is interested."

Eames chuckled. "It figures you'd already have an idea," he said. "Have you tried the new tea menu that Nash designed for us yet?"

"I have had that pleasure, yes," replied Saito. They launched into a discussion of the various dishes, which Arthur participated in only tangentially while Ariadne continued her knitting.

"Go ahead and bring your nephew in," said Arthur, now that Eames had given him a moment to think.

"Tadashi will be pleased to meet you tomorrow, if that's convenient." Saito gave him a little bow and passed Arthur his card. "This is my contact information, with his name and number on the back."

Arthur pulled out one of his own cards and wrote his and Eames' numbers on the back, in the space usually reserved for tea ingredients. "I'm sure you could get these from Nash, but here's our mobiles."

"Thank you," Saito replied, bowing over the card with both hands. "I am honoured."

"Of all the people who come in here, I can't imagine we'd get a 5am emergency tea call from you," said Eames, looking amused. "I'll put you in my contacts so I can answer." Eames was a little baffled at why a powerful man like Saito wanted to further entangle himself in their small lives, but he was willing to go with it for now.

Arthur stood up to let Saito out, seconding Eames' sentiment. "You'd never jeopardise your quiet afternoons by being a bother."

"Just so." Saito already had his coat on, and he had only to grab his attache case on his way to the door, which was swiftly locked behind him.

"Oh, I didn't realise," said Fischer, looking up at the click of the lock with wide, vulnerable blue eyes.

"It's fine, we're going to hang out a while before I clean up," said Arthur, plopping back into his chair and picking up his teacup with a happy sigh. "I'll let you know when I need you to clear out."

"He's good about that," piped up Yusuf, who had downed his first cup and was enjoying the second more now that it looked like he'd have time. "I abuse it shamelessly."

"Have you made it to Architect for one of his tea nights yet?" asked Eames, now that Yusuf was feeling chatty.

"Yeah, I really can't afford it but you only live once, right? And chemistry pays well enough to splurge sometimes." Yusuf was beaming. "Nash even came out to say hi and talk about molecular chemistry."

"Did you take someone?" asked Ariadne, sounding jealous, though it wasn't clear if it was over the food or the potential date.

Yusuf chuckled. "Nah, I haven't found a woman willing to put up with my weird schedule yet."

"Not to mention the smell," teased Eames. "Sulfuric acid is the worst."

"That was just one time," protested Yusuf, but it was a weak protest.

Eames glanced over to see Fischer looking lost and confused at their banter. "How about you, Fischer, been to Architect this season yet?"

"I, um, no. It's not one of the places I usually get reservations to." Fischer's curiosity was winning out over the sadness in his eyes now. "Do you go there regularly?"

"Eames is on the board of investors," said Yusuf cheerfully. "He and Saito arranged for us all to eat there a while back, and I'm now hopelessly addicted."

"It was really good," said Ariadne. "I haven't made it since then, though."

"Nash designed a special tea-based menu in collaboration with Arthur for our anniversary," said Eames proudly. "It's amazing."

"I'm sure you could get a table," added Arthur. He looked surprisingly relaxed about suddenly having Fischer interested in more than sneering at them, so Eames went along with it.

"I suppose it's not the sort of place my business associates like to dine," said Fischer, getting that lost look back.

"Well," said Eames, "neither is this, and yet, here you are. Not everything in life is about business."

Fischer chuckled. "Don't say that in front of my father," he said wryly.

"Nor mine, rest his bitter soul," said Eames, "but I've done well enough for myself, once I got my head out of my arse, anyway."

Fischer sipped his tea and nodded, looking thoughtful. "Maybe I'll try it sometime."

They fell back into their relative silences, Yusuf cradling his tea like a drug and Fischer looking at his phone with evident consternation while Arthur, Eames and Ariadne quietly talked about publishing timelines and sock modelling. Soon enough all the tea was drunk and Arthur shooed everyone out. Eames headed upstairs to make dinner while Arthur closed up shop.

---

Eames was unsurprised the next morning at the gym when Saito joined him after his workout. He'd begun to enjoy his habit of knitting afterward, and decided to keep it up even now that the gifts were given and no more secrets were in the works. Saito set a flavoured water down next to him, one of the new ones that was infused with cucumber and mint, and Eames grinned at him.

"How are you enjoying the facilities, Mr. Saito?" he asked, needles clicking away.

Saito took a sip. "They are an improvement over the previous establishment."

Eames shot him a wry little grin. "Going to buy the company, then?"

Saito chuckled. "That would be neater, but no, not this time. I have asked the appropriate employee to look into an investment, however. I find it helps to have a hand in with businesses I wish to keep patronising."

"I won't argue there. I assume you're here to put in a good word for your nephew?" Eames was working on turning the heel, so he didn't look up in more than glances, having to concentrate on both the ghost pattern and the shaping.

"I have eleven nieces and nephews, and I have tried to help them all. This is the first thing Tadashi has allowed me to do for him." Saito said it like dry facts, but Eames understood the unspoken sentiment.

"Arthur will give him a real chance, don't worry. He's been wanting more freedom to sleep in or take time off, and of course people complain about him daring to close one day a week all the time." Eames paused his knitting and looked Saito in the eye. "A proper apprentice is a good idea, and even if he resisted at first, he knows that."

Saito nodded and looked pleased, lapsing into his usual silence. Eames found it comfortable these days, and he went back to his knitting, sharing the space with someone who was, however tenuously, a friend.

---

Eames was settled in at the tea shop, his usual table like a familiar comfort as he worked away on socks for his lover. They were knitting up beautifully, and he'd even made some notes on the pattern to keep Ariadne's glares at a minimum. He was expecting her any minute now; Yusuf was already parked at his table, having refused to miss a moment of this mysterious apprenticeship interview.

Arthur was clearing out a small line of people, including Robert Fischer, who had again ordered a pot of tea, and asked quietly for something with a lot of caffeine and a very rich flavour. Ariadne came in and plopped herself down next to Eames without even bothering to order yet, since Tadashi was due to arrive precisely at four.

"I'm making notes, look," said Eames, pointing to the Moleskine that had been a gift from Arthur.

She looked less impressed than Eames had hoped. "We'll see if it helps," she said. "At least with socks I already know how you work."

"How's that last sweater coming along, anyway?" asked Eames.

"I finished the first arm warmer so I brought that today instead. The bat argyle is so much easier at sweater size, I have no idea how you managed to make yourself do socks that fine." She started poking through her things, getting ready to have her own plausible deniability for eavesdropping.

Once the line was done, Arthur said, "Get over here and give me ten pounds, Eames, you can buy for Ari, too."

Eames laughed and brought his tray back, along with the requested funds. "Thank you, darling, you know just how to please me." He stole a kiss and left a tiny knitted ghost in the tip bowl, winking as he swanned off to sit again.

"I won't be expected to kiss the customers, will I?" asked a soft, slightly accented voice behind him.

Eames turned to see a gorgeous Japanese boy standing at the counter, wearing a very stylish outfit not dissimilar to Arthur's, though with more colour. His shoes were two-colour brogues with violet and soft lavender, and he was wearing socks in a glorious tri-colour pattern of Necker cubes. His cuffed trousers were slim and a brighter violet than the shoes, the waistcoat darker, and the shirt a pale periwinkle with embroidered honeybees climbing the subtle hexagonal brocade. He was wearing a scarf around his neck that obscured his chest, and his hair was a gorgeous mess of stylish stripes. A beautiful burgundy wool coat completed the ensemble, the cut unmistakably feminine but suiting him somehow anyway.

"You won't, no," said Arthur, holding out his hand. "Arthur Levine."

"Karasu Tadashi," he replied, shaking Arthur's hand. "I prefer they/them, despite what Uncle thinks."

"Is Tadashi okay? I prefer Arthur, and he/him." Arthur smiled, looking quite pleased already, whether for the open gender choices or the clothes Eames wasn't sure.

"Tadashi is fine, Arthur-sensei," they replied.

"Arthur prefers me above all," said Eames, sauntering back over. "I'm Eames, no other name necessary, he/him and Arthur's entirely."

"The knitter, yes?" said Tadashi, shaking Eames' hand with a light grip.

"That's right, and this is Ariadne, my tech editor." Eames gestured and she jumped up to shake his hand.

"She/her, and I love your clothes," she said, getting her own handshake and looking slightly stunned.

"Thank you," they said, grinning adorably. "How would you like to conduct our interview, Arthur-sensei?"

Arthur grinned. "Go wash your hands and hang your coat in the back. I'll show you how to make a simple cup of tea and then we'll talk." His dimples were showing, and Eames couldn't resist leaning over to kiss one.

"Darling, I'm willing to risk my next pot of tea to your maybe-apprentice, as long as you supervise the construction," he said, tugging Ariadne back to sit with him.

"Thanks, Eames," said Arthur.

Tadashi vanished into the back kitchen, and the whole room erupted into gossip, amusing Eames to no end. His phone pinged as Yusuf sent him inquiring messages, and he in turn sent Ariadne a teasing text that perhaps she was less gay than she protested. He told Yusuf to wait until Tadashi had proven themself and then ask for a pot of chai. Texting done, he picked up his knitting right where he'd left off.

Tadashi was emerging from the back just as Saito entered the shop, and they exchanged serious nods but no words.

Arthur rang him up and asked, "Would you prefer Tadashi-san or myself to prepare your tea today?"

Saito looked amused. "I suppose I can trust the master to properly supervise the apprentice," he said, dropping an extra coin into the bowl for tips.

Arthur grinned, turning back to Tadashi. "All right, we're making Saito's very traditional pot of green tea and also constructing something fun for Eames."

"Something... fun?" They didn't sound to sanguine about this idea.

"Eames likes to go lighter on the caffeine for his second pot, and today we're going to try to create a pot of tea with a sense of fun to it," said Arthur. "People like Saito and Yusuf come here for traditionally-prepared types of tea they can't get elsewhere in London, but most of my customers come for the blends."

"The creativity which has inspired others, like Nash-sama," said Tadashi, nodding. "Why fun?"

"I like fun," said Eames. "And I'm in a bit of a giddy mood, which Arthur knows because he's perceptive and I'm transparent."

Tadashi let out a small laugh. "So, fun it is. I suppose it's not any more vague than calming."

Eames went back to his knitting, though the lion's share of his attention was on Arthur and his new apprentice. He could tell Arthur liked them, and Tadashi took it in stride when they found out every single unlabelled drawer contained ingredients in some order that only Arthur understood. Eames had talked to Arthur about tea before, of course, but it was fascinating to listen to him describe things to Tadashi in terms of mood as well as scent and flavour.

Arthur sent Tadashi to deliver Saito's pot of tea while he brought Eames' tray over himself. "Sharing with Ari, I assume?"

"Please," she said, grinning.

"As she says," agreed Eames. "And you, I hope?"

"And me," agreed Arthur. There were actually four cups on the tray with the big teapot, though Arthur only poured three. Tadashi was sitting with their uncle, and the two of them were sharing the green tea and speaking Japanese in low voices. Arthur added one sugar cube to all three cups, and they each took one and saluted each other before trying it.

The taste was elusive and bright, with little zings of citrus and lower notes of fruit all wound up with a bit of smoky vanilla that made Eames think of Nash.

"That is indeed fun," said Eames, setting the cup down. "Whose idea was the smokiness?"

"That was mine, I got Nash to smoke a few vanilla beans for me as an experiment," said Arthur. "They came out well, yeah?"

"Really yeah," said Ariadne, taking another sip and looking blissful. "I can't believe I tried to order Lady Grey here."

"You learned," said Arthur, showing off a dimple, which Eames then kissed.

"So, you're going to keep Tadashi?" asked Eames, glancing over at the pair. "Did you do the maths for their pay?"

Arthur nodded. "Last night, yeah. If you keep helping, I can easily pay a decent part-time wage."

"Anytime, petal," agreed Eames. "I am very invested in keeping my favourite tea shop afloat."

Ariadne looked curious, but was wise enough not to ask. Eames' accountant took care of paying the shop's rent and some of the bills nowadays, and would likely do all the hire paperwork for Tadashi as well, though he'd be paid out of the shop's funds for tax reasons no doubt.

Arthur kissed him softly, then sat back and sipped his tea. "We'll have to celebrate as soon as I can take a proper day off."

"As soon as you've found a way to test that they know where every obscure ingredient is, you mean," teased Eames. He took another sip of the delightful tea himself, unable to keep the smile off his face at the mix of flavours. "You're already teaching them well."

"Anyone can pour water and set a timer, Mr. Eames," said Tadashi, coming over to join their group. "Arthur's art is one that will take much time to fathom and refashion into my own personality."

Arthur poured the fourth cup and prepared it, passing it to Tadashi. "Well, we'll try to give you the time. Eames' accountant's taken over my books as well, and he'll get a contract ready with a fair wage included."

Tadashi bowed, a little smile on their face. "Thank you, sensei. We'll work out a schedule soon as well?"

"Tomorrow," said Arthur. "I need to sit down and figure out which part of the day will have both a rush I could use help with, and a lull where I can teach you."

"So that it's a mutually beneficial arrangement," said Tadashi. They saluted the group with their cup and took a sip, making a soft sound of surprise. "I have much to learn."

Everyone at the table laughed, and the conversation came back around to the tea, the smoked vanilla, and Architect. Saito came by and promised to arrange a celebratory dinner for them and their guests; he gave both Fischer and Yusuf significant glances.

"We'll make sure to invite people," said Eames, feeling very pleased indeed with his life.

The bell over the door rang, and that was the cue for everyone to return to what they were doing. Arthur and Tadashi took their teacups back behind the counter and began to learn how to occupy the small space together as teacher and student. Eames and Ariadne took up their knitting and got back to their own day's work. Yusuf relaxed into his chemistry journal and sipped his tea, while Saito finished up his pot and prepared to leave. Even Fischer relaxed somewhat, his phone face down while he worked on his laptop and drank the pot of tea Arthur had provided.

All in all, it was a very good day indeed.

---

The two weeks to their second fitting passed in a blur of training Tadashi, knitting socks, and placating Dom with a bonus pattern for the knitted ghost plush plus a companion set of pumpkin and bat that she could use as an advertising giveaway. Today, though, he was heading out with nothing to hand but Arthur, knitting left behind and the excitement of beautiful new suits ahead.

"I know we can't take them home today, but I'm dreadfully excited," said Eames, grinning.

Arthur chuckled. "That shirt is something dreadful," he teased. Eames, knowing he'd be changing clothing entirely, had shamelessly indulged in one of his vintage looks with the green-gold jacket, coral shirt, and grey trousers with his two-tone oxfords.

"You love me like this," he replied teasingly. "You look delectable, of course."

"That's because I'm wearing your sweater," said Arthur, but he was glowing as he said it. Despite Halloween being past, Arthur had chosen his bat argyle set, sweater vest and matching socks with his fashionable winter coat atop them, and well-fitting black trousers to keep attention on the knitting.

"And the tailoring on your trousers, petal," said Eames teasingly. "I've been admiring that arse of yours since the very first day."

"I know," said Arthur, looking smug as anything.

Eames laughed and kissed him, there in the back of the cab, giddy with anticipation. "I knew I wasn't fooling you."

They bantered back and forth like that all the way to Alexander McQueen, spilling out of the car like eager schoolkids on a field trip. Arthur took a moment to just stand with him and calm them both down before they headed inside, where they were met with a familiar face and led straight back to their usual fitting room and a steaming pot of tea.

"We're not late, are we?" said Eames, pulling out his phone to check the time.

"Oh, no, sirs, but we often have earlybirds for a final fitting," the man replied, before taking his leave.

Arthur poured the tea, setting the gift bag he'd brought next to the tray. "I still think they would've liked socks."

"I'm afraid someone claims all the socks I knit nowadays, so I didn't have any pairs going wanting," said Eames innocently.

Arthur chuckled. "Well, good thing for you they seem to be fond of tea," he replied, handing Eames a cuppa.

Eames made himself sit instead of prowling the room, paying for his cup with a kiss. "I'll try to manage socks for pickup day," said Eames. "If you promise not to claim them."

"I'll try to manage it," Arthur shot back, one dimple peeking out from behind his teacup.

The door opened before Eames could think of a response, and Walcott came in pulling an entire rack of clothing, not just their suits but all of the shirts they'd ordered and a pile of boxes at the bottom with the extra accessories. "We've got ties for you to choose today, and all the shirts, so it might be a long appointment."

"We've got the time," said Eames. "Start with Arthur, I'm dying to see his new suit."

"I won't argue," said Arthur, dimples showing.

Houghton came in with his iPad, looking up in surprise when Arthur handed him a cup of tea made to his preferences. "Did I hear you're first, Arthur?"

"You did." Arthur poured the final cup to Walcott's tastes, sitting back in his chair and grinning happily. "Eames wishes to make sure all of his money is well-spent."

Eames laughed. "I just want to watch you parade around in your new finery, even if we can't take it home today."

"It'll just be a week after this, hopefully, unless there's major alterations that need to be done," assured Walcott. "Ta for this." He took up his tea and sat, giving the gift bag a significant look.

"Oh, yes," said Eames. "This is for the both of you, there's doubles of everything. Three of our favourites from Arthur's shop."

Houghton actually smiled at that, digging into the bag and passing Walcott one of each of the tins. "Your shop's got quite the reputation among those in the know," he said, "so I'm quite looking forward to this."

"It's kind of you to think of me, as well," added Walcott, practically salivating at the thought. "Oh, there's serving suggestions on here, too."

"Arthur never steers me wrong," said Eames, appropriately smug. "He's been customising my tea from day one."

They drank their cups and talk moved from the tea to the waiting clothing; there were three shirts apiece as ordered, plus their full suits, and a whole selection of ties for both Arthur and Eames, should Eames choose to acquire one or two for himself, and even pocket squares. As requested, no socks were presented, but everything else was ready to add to their wardrobes, and their final total.

Arthur practically floated back behind the screen, and Eames smiled to himself to hear the oohs as he got himself into the suit.

Rather than try on a piece at a time as they had the first day, Arthur emerged fully dressed for maximum impact.

The suit itself was covered in a pattern of skulls woven right into the fabric in black on black, the thread catching the light in an intriguing manner as Arthur moved. The tie was the same jacquard fabric as the suit, while the shirt was a soft grey with grey pinstripes and a single skull embroidered on one collar. The fit was exquisite, showing off Arthur's strong thighs, shapely calves, and pert bottom even with the jacket covering some of it. The jacket had been tailored elegantly, and the waistcoat beneath it hugged Arthur's lean torso in a way that was giving Eames some very inappropriate thoughts. Arthur did a little model's turn, then slipped off the jacket and did it again, displaying the beautiful silk backing on the waistcoat with a print of a single large skull on it that looked like it was made of lace.

Eames applauded.

Arthur laughed delightedly. "I really love the print on the waistcoat, thank you so much for finding this silk. It's a wonderful surprise."

"I had a feeling the effort would pay off," said Houghton, looking very pleased indeed. "I can see a few places we need to adjust, but it shouldn't affect the design any."

"I trust you," said Arthur, standing and posing when told, putting pieces on and taking them off, the business of tailoring now underway. Eames poured himself another cuppa and watched with a fond smile on his face, once again glad he'd kept himself from gambling away every penny. Especially when the waistcoat came off to reveal skull braces that he was absolutely going to spend as much time as possible taking off of Arthur later.

Arthur tried on his other two shirts as well, the classic skull print, and one with subtle darting that suggested a ribcage and made Arthur's torso look even more defined. Once all the pieces were marked and pinned to everyone's satisfaction, Arthur changed back into his regular clothing and sat while Walcott retrieved a number of boxes for him to choose pocket squares and ties.

Eames left him to it with a parting kiss and a teasing comment, "Remember to leave some for next year."

"Next year they'll have new ones," Arthur shot back, but Eames knew he'd stick to something reasonable.

Houghton had already hung Arthur's clothes back on the rack, so it was Eames' turn to try on suit and shirts, though he didn't have a waistcoat this time. A belt was provided with a charming skull-decorated buckle, and Eames had a feeling that would end up going home with them as well.

Despite the all-over jacquard pattern of his suit, it wasn't nearly as gaudy as Eames had feared. The peacock feathers were large but somewhat muted against the black; a subtle green-gold served as the main colour with the richer blues reserved for the centre of each feather. The fit was loose and easy, which added movement and elegance to the ensemble. Eames chose the white shirt with black feather print for contrast, shooting his cuffs and emerging to do his own model's walk.

Arthur clapped for him, looking happily surprised by the effect. "That suit is amazing, Eames. I never would have expected it to look so good."

"I really love it," said Eames, full of his own giddiness at the success of their adventure. "The peacock feathers are perfect, and I rather love the signet cufflinks."

"I'm shamelessly getting the skulls for myself," said Arthur with a little grin. "I think we're still under budget, but I can give up something else if I have to."

"Nonsense, love, I'm certain I can cover it," said Eames. "I will also want this belt, as I'm certain you knew, and Arthur needs his braces, so I trust we'll get an adjusted total before we go."

"Of course," said Houghton, with his cat-in-the-cream look back again. "Now, I know you generally don't go for a tie, but I would suggest for certain occasions you use this one?" He presented Eames with a simple black tie with a single ivory peacock feather woven into the fabric.

Eames looked amused. "Yes, of course, we'll fit the shirts with and without, I suppose."

"I can start you here with that," said Walcott, leaving Arthur to his contemplations. It was Eames' turn to be beset by the two of them, moving and bending and standing still as ordered, changing from shirt to shirt and in and out of the tie. By the time they were done, he was very grateful for the last cup in the pot and ready to let Arthur have anything he wanted, so long as Eames didn't have to be fitted for it.

It turned out that Arthur's wants were actually quite reasonable, however, and while their final total scraped the upper edge of his budget, it didn't go enough over that he needed to worry. They re-hung everything and boxed up the accessories, marking off which ones they'd chosen so that they'd be there for the pick-up in a week.

"Enjoy the tea," said Eames with a little grin, getting out his phone to check the time while his stomach rumbled.

"Ah, I need to feed him," said Arthur with a little grin. "Thank you again for all of this, it's been an amazing experience we definitely plan to repeat."

"You are very welcome," said Walcott, looking just as smug as Houghton now that all of the purchases had been totalled and his work pulling items had paid off handsomely. Since Eames was pretty sure he, too, was looking awfully smug, he didn't bother to call either of them out on it.

"We'll see you next week," said Arthur, dragging Eames out with a grin. "Come on, we need to eat so I can devour you, you looked amazing in that suit."

Eames kissed him soundly. "Oh trust me, love, that feeling is incredibly mutual."

---

The very next day, Eames got a message from Dom about samples for photography on his Halloween book, and he didn't make it back to Specificity until late afternoon. By now he'd almost grown used to Fischer taking up the table on the other side of Arthur's workstation, but Tadashi behind the counter was still a bit startling.

"What can we make for you today, Eames-san?" asked Tadashi, looking cheerful as usual. They seemed to have been made to work at a shop like Arthur's, finding the obscure organisation and unusual methodology a joy and a challenge rather than a chore.

Eames felt himself smiling back. "Something soothing, with a bit of a kick, please," said Eames.

"Ten including tip, I've got an idea for that," said Arthur, coming up behind Tadashi. "Meeting go okay?"

Eames leaned over the counter to kiss him, fortunately something Tadashi had grown used to and slid to one side to facilitate. "It was fine, just tedious. I'm going to have to borrow a few of your items for photography, but I promise to get them sparkling clean before I give them back."

Arthur sighed, but one of his dimples was peeking out. "I suppose I can handle that," he said. "Now pay my apprentice and go sit, I've been waiting for you to take my break."

"Of course, darling." Eames snuck one more kiss, left a tenner with Tadashi, and claimed their table. Ariadne wouldn't be in today, most likely, but a third chair had made its permanent home at the table anyway. Eames intended to take advantage of this by keeping Arthur in kissing range for the duration of his break.

He settled in to watch them move, Arthur murmuring to Tadashi, splitting the tasks as they prepared not just Eames' pot of tea, but several other orders. Arthur gathered ingredients in his little metal cups, and Tadashi filled three different kettles to bring to temp, the big one to boil but the others to lower temperatures for other sorts of tea. Eames had been paying a little attention to Arthur's lectures on the subject, and he'd fallen a bit more in love. His Arthur had the precision of a scientist but the soul of an artist, adding a bit of this and a bit of that and doing his utmost to bring the best out of every single ingredient.

Eames felt the same way when he was knitting, sometimes.

He got out his latest project, which was another sweater for the homeless guy down the way that always greeted him cheerfully on his way to and from the Tube. He'd found a chunky, undyed yarn that would knit up fast and be warm as anything, and planned to make matching mittens, scarf, and hat as well.

"Are you still going to make me a blanket with fat yarn like this?" asked Arthur, settling in with their tea tray, on which there was not only a pot but a plate of biscuits.

"I am," said Eames, setting the knitting aside for now. "This first, though."

"Of course," said Arthur, leaning in for a kiss before he poured for them both. "I promised I'd let you keep doing these."

"You did," said Eames, charmed all over again, because Arthur had made the promise one day out of the blue when Eames was starting something for the Halloween book that wouldn't suit him, in that case the bat-wing shawl design. "You're the best."

"So, Saito is arranging another dinner to celebrate Tadashi's internship," said Arthur.

"I do remember that," said Eames. "We're inviting Yusuf and Fisher and Ariadne, anyone else?"

"The morning regulars don't talk much," said Arthur, smiling softly. "Maybe old Mrs. Tarron, she's been talking to Tadashi about being nonbinary in a way that pleases everyone involved." He took a sip of his tea and sighed, looking smugly satisfied.

"Oh, the one that dresses like a fashion plate, with the fun hair?" Eames took his teacup and inhaled the steam, smelling strong tea with a hint of something sharp swimming under the surface. He took a sip and got a mouthful of rich oolong, followed by a kick of heat from raw ginger and some kind of hot pepper, which was immediately soothed by the milk Arthur had generously added when he poured. "Oh, darling, this is gorgeous."

Arthur beamed at him. "I thought you'd like it," he said, having another sip. "And yes, that's her. She's gone pink this month, and it's been fun watching the style change as her hair fades."

"Will we debut our suits then?" asked Eames.

Arthur shrugged. "We could, though it's not really a formal event."

"We'll see. I couldn't get tickets to that play, they sold out too fast, so I'm open to ideas." He looked disappointed, but unfortunately theatre tickets weren't an area Eames had contacts for.

"I'm sorry, love, I know you wanted to see Chris Thompson doing Shakespeare," said Eames, giving him a soft kiss.

Someone behind them cleared his throat, and Eames looked up to see Fischer standing awkwardly behind Arthur. "Yes?"

"I, um, sorry, I overheard... Did you mean Winter's Tale at the National?" Fisher looked shy, and Eames did his best to smile and seem welcoming.

"Yeah," said Arthur with a sigh. "It sold out so fast, though."

"I have tickets. I mean, extra tickets. There's a special donor party, Dad always gave generously to the National so he could impress people with his culture, and the party comes with four tickets."

"And you'd want to go with us?" asked Eames, making sure it was clear.

Robert nodded, smiling softly. "I usually go with work people, but this would be nicer. Um, and Uncle Peter, he'll come along."

Arthur smiled back. "That would be really great, Robert. Why don't you go get a cup from Tadashi and join us for a bit?"

Tadashi, it turned out, had already anticipated the invitation and handed the cup right to Arthur. "Will you also want a pot of your own, Mr. Fischer?"

"Yes, I'll come up and order it in a few. I've got work to do," replied Fischer, sighing softly. "There's a lot involved."

"You can work here," offered Eames. "Ariadne's not coming in today, and there's an outlet."

Arthur poured the cup, preparing it the same way he did for Eames, and then handing it over. "See how you like this."

Fischer took a seat before he took a sip, and his face showed pleased surprised when the kick of spice hit him. "Oh, that's fascinating. Wow, I never think to get anything very exciting here, I guess."

"Arthur uses me as his test subject, so I get all the best stuff," said Eames. He took another sip and sighed with pure delight at the way the heat turned into a spiced warmth as the milk washed the spicy bits away. "This is such a clever one, darling."

"Thank you," said Arthur, preening. "I'm trying to get more savoury flavours in with the tea, Nash is very inspiring that way."

"Architect Nash?" asked Fischer. "You guys were talking about that the other day, I made a reservation but it isn't for a while."

"Well, you'll have to come to my new apprentice celebration dinner, Saito's having us invite some regulars," said Arthur smoothly. "We don't have a date yet, though."

"I'll make time," said Fischer, looking surprised all over again. "As long as it's not on the same night as Winter's Tale."

"Of course not," said Eames. "When is that, by the by?" He pulled out his phone, and they talked dates, getting everything squared away about where and when to meet up.

"We'll have our suits by then," said Arthur. "The Alexander McQueen bespoke ones."

"They're a bit flash, but in a very tasteful way," teased Eames. "I promise, you won't be ashamed to be seen with us."

"I never would," said Fischer, though there was a flash of guilt as they all remembered Eames' first meeting with him. He chuckled wryly and added, "Well, I wouldn't now."

"Good enough," said Eames with a wink. "Ah, there's our Mr. Saito, which means your afternoon rush can't be far behind."

Arthur sighed. "Tadashi will get his pot, but you're right, my break's about over." He stole another kiss from Eames and fondled the sweater in progress a little. "I can't wait until we have that blanket to cuddle under."

"Soon," said Eames. "Promise." He kissed Arthur soundly, and they both sighed when the door sounded twice more, admitting five more people in quick succession. "Go on, love."

Merlin suppressed a contented sigh and canted his hips more comfortably, voice steady as he continued to direct Lancelot on her mission. Merlin had come before the infiltration began, but Eggsy was still suckling gently at his cock. Eggsy's splinted arm was bound across his chest and his body was comfortably curled in the cushioned haven they'd built for him under Merlin's desk. Merlin stroked his hair, feeling Eggsy swallow and let out a gentle, vibrating sound of contentment that made Merlin's now-dormant cock swell slightly in the soft, warm space it currently occupied.

"You're almost there," said Merlin, watching the screens intently. "Second left, and I'll have the lock popped before you can say Jack Robinson."

Eggsy sighed, too quiet to be picked up by the mikes, and shifted just a little, settling into his blankets more comfortably. They both loved these times, Merlin's cock warm in Eggy's mouth and nothing demanding for either of them, just a moment of connection between a dom and his sub.

"Merlin, there you are," said a voice from the doorway.

Merlin muted the mike and grinned. "Arthur. Is this business or pleasure?"

"Both, if you've got our puppy under there," said Harry, closing and locking the door to Merlin's office.

Merlin smirked. "Just let me finish up with Lancelot, love." He'd been typing the whole time, and the door clicked open just as Roxy reached for it onscreen. He unmuted and directed, "It's unguarded for now, but they'll be around in ten, so hurry it up."

"You just want to go shag your boyfriends," said Roxy, but she slipped into the room and did her job efficiently, downloading the data and uploading Merlin's custom-designed virus.

"Can you blame me?" said Merlin, smirking at Harry.

Roxy snorted and finished up as fast as he could want. "Did you get the upload?"

Eggsy sucked a little harder, moving his tongue, waking Merlin's cock from complacency and coaxing it back to hardness.

Merlin took a steadying breath and replied. "All clear here. If you head back the way you came, you should be good to get out, but no detours or you'll run into the guard."

"Roger that. Tell Eggsy not to tell me how it went." She signed off, and he shunted her screen to one of his assistants, leaving it for someone else to get her to the extraction point safely.

As soon as the screens were dark, Harry began to loosen his tie. "You'll process that very important data as soon as we've given our good boy a reward, I trust?"

"Oh, aye," said Merlin. "Eggsy, love, come out and kiss your masters."

Eggsy's mouth pulled off, making Merlin's well-warmed erection feel cold enough that he tucked it away for now. He gave their boy a hand out from under the desk, pausing to admire the way the beautiful pale gold silk camisole set looked on his trim body as he stretched.

"Aren't you a pretty thing?" said Harry lovingly, tugging Eggsy in for soft kisses and a little massage to his undoubtedly sore jaw. "Have you been a good boy for Merlin?"

"Good as gold," said Merlin, snuggling up with them to share in the kisses.

"Does this mean I get a reward now?" asked Eggsy, pressing his bottom back into Merlin's erection and nuzzling up under Harry's jaw. Merlin loved how free he was these days, trusting now that they loved him for his wanton ways, and not despite them.

"Aye, love," said Merlin, running his hands over Eggsy's body and up to massage his shoulders. "How's the jaw?"

"He's holding it like he's sore," said Harry, before Eggsy could answer. "I was thinking you could hold him and we'll share him, over here in your favourite reading chair?" Harry gestured to the sturdy, comfortable leather chair that they'd already defiled repeatedly and at great length.

Merlin smirked. "Always a step ahead," he said. He left them each a last kiss and went to prepare the chair with some towels, a cushion for Harry's knees and a nice big bottle of lube. When he turned back, Eggsy had begun the task of carefully stripping Harry out of his suit and hanging it on the wooden valet they kept in Merlin's office now, one among many shameless nods to their relationship.

"Very good, Eggsy," Harry said, praising their boy for taking such good care with Harry's things. "The doctor says he's healing quite well and should have full use of the arm, as long as he keeps following orders."

"I've been a good boy," said Eggsy proudly. The first time he'd been injured, he'd nearly ruined himself trying to get back into the field too soon, and his doms were very keen to make sure this time went smoothly.

Merlin began undressing himself, hanging the clothes up in his wardrobe, which also contained Eggsy's actual outfit for the day. "Keep the chemise on, love, but you'll not need your knickers."

"Has the silk kept the sling from chafing?" asked Harry, helping Eggsy with his tasks as needed but otherwise letting him serve as was his wont.

"Yes, Master," said Eggsy, cheeky as ever even half-naked with his cock poking up from under the hem of his lingerie.

Merlin got himself nude and seated. He held his arms out for Harry to help get Eggsy into position, straddling Merlin's lap and cuddled happily against his chest, free arm curled around his waist. "There you go, lad, we're going t'share ye, so just relax."

"Spoilin' me," Eggsy murmured, sounding incredibly pleased with his lot. He let out a little gasp right by Merlin's ear as Harry started fingering him, and Merlin took over the task of massaging Eggy's sore jaw and kissing his lovely red mouth.

"You've earned it," said Harry, caresses brushing against Merlin's body as he stroked inside Eggsy with one hand, and over the boy's silk-clad body with the other. The camisole set had been a bit of a risky gift, but Eggsy had taken to wearing it as happily as anything else his masters asked of him, so there were more things on the way as surprises for later.

Merlin couldn't wait to get the boy all done up in black lace and white rope, once the sling came off.

"Ye've been a very good puppy," murmured Merlin, spreading his kisses along Eggsy's jaw and over his face before going back to that addictive mouth. It was as heady to taste himself in Eggsy's mouth as it was to see Harry, naked and in love and theirs, something he thought they might never find a way to work out before Eggsy had come along.

"He's ready for you, should I keep going or do you want to slip in now?" asked Harry, adding a kiss at the end, his firm lips so very different from Eggsy's but no less beloved for all that.

Merlin mmed and nuzzled Eggsy thoughtfully, watching to see how he reacted to the idea. "I think more fingering for now, love, d'ye need a hand?"

"You just hold him, I've got this end," teased Harry.

Eggsy let out another needy sound that Merlin took for the insertion of a fourth finger, and wondered if Harry was going to put his whole hand inside the boy. Merlin hooked his chin over Eggsy's shoulder to look, only to find that Harry was using two fingers from each hand to work Eggsy's arse wide open, and getting ready to add a fifth.

"It's a good thing we've got excellent lube," teased Merlin, fascinated by the slip and slide of Harry's fingers inside their boy.

Eggsy whined and nuzzled, and Merlin sighed fondly. "All right, puppy," he said, coming back to spoil Eggsy with kisses and more massage just as he deserved, not just his jaw but his back and shoulder that were just as sore for less pleasurable reasons.

"He's opening beautifully today," said Harry proudly. "Our Eggy's such a good boy."

"He loves having two of us to pleasure himself with," teased Merlin, kissing away the sting of the tease. "And we love having him to keep us on our toes."

"We love you," said Harry, kissing the back of Eggsy's hair and doing something with his hands to make Eggsy moan.

"That we do," agreed Merlin, rubbing noses affectionately. He was very enthusiastically kissed at that, and once again reminded himself to tell Eggsy he was loved more often. It didn't come easily to him, but the rewards were worth it.

"Almost ready. That certainly helped," teased Harry, kissing along Eggsy's shoulder until he could kiss Merlin as well. They couldn't quite manage a three-way kiss like this, but Merlin was happy to pass kisses from one to the other and back while Harry worked Eggsy open.

Eggsy let out the most delicious whimpers between kisses, eyes glazed and pupils blown, fully down into subspace and riding high on endorphins. It wasn't long at all before Harry was easing Eggsy down onto Merlin's cock, after adding slick that he hardly needed with Eggsy so very wet and loose already. It came in handy a moment later when Harry's cock pressed against Merlin's, the soft head slipping in and then their hard shafts almost painfully tight together as they shifted in careful inches to both get inside Eggsy's eager, willing body.

Not a one of them would last long like this, but that wasn't really the point. Harry plastered himself to Eggsy's back the same way Eggsy was cradled against Merlin's front, the three of them intimately close, sharing space and warmth, power and pleasure. They spent a few long moments just breathing before Harry took the lead again and started moving his hips. Merlin thrust in counterpoint, each of them holding Eggsy still so all he had to do was take them.

"That's it, love," purred Merlin, getting a sweet whimper in reply.

"You're doing beautifully, love," murmured Harry, and the next whimper was louder.

They moved like that for some endless span of time that was likely only a few minutes, just long enough for the friction, heat, and tightness to make Merlin's spine tingle and his balls draw up.

"Come as soon as you're ready, puppy," said Merlin, voice sharper that before, making it an order that would get through Eggsy's subspace fog.

"Come for your masters," said Harry in the same tone.

That was all Eggsy had been waiting for, apparently; he cried out desperately and came, heat flooding against Merlin's stomach and soaking into the pretty camisole as well. The shudders that ran through Eggsy's body were enough to set Harry off and Merlin after him, their cocks pulsing together in the tight space, mingled come dripping down as Harry gently pulled out, then got Eggsy off of Merlin's cock as well before snuggling back up.

"I love you both," said Merlin, letting the afterglow make it easier.

Eggsy let out a very happy sigh indeed.

"And I love you both as well," replied Harry, his voice soft and just a touch rough around the edges.

Another little sigh came from their puppy, and Merlin chuckled. "We'll have to get him into the shower before he falls asleep on us."

"Before either of us fall asleep on you, I should think," teased Harry. "I'll go warm it up, if you think you can handle him?"

"G'wan, he'll be fine once I get him on his feet," said Merlin. They all sighed when Harry stood up, leaving them colder than before, but that was enough to start Eggsy coming up out of his glazed state. Merlin coaxed him onto his feet and followed, helping him walk gingerly to the en suite bathroom that had been a luxury of being Merlin even before he had lovers to share it with.

The three of them shared the big shower easily, with Harry and Merlin getting Eggsy out of his sling and camisole and into the warm water, getting him clean and dry and back into a fresh outfit, this time baby blue with little bows on the knickers. The two older men chose silk pyjamas to match and helped Eggsy out to snuggle up on the couch in Merlin's office, sharing first a bottle of water and then, once Harry roused himself enough to make it, a pot of tea.

"How did we ever get so lucky?" said Harry, gently feeding a sip of tea to Eggsy.

Merlin chuckled. "We made our own luck, love, with patience and perceptiveness."

Eggsy snorted. "You mean I seduced you both with my fine arse."

"Well," said Merlin, sharing a wink with Harry and giving the anatomy in question a gentle squeeze, "That, too."

"Get naked, I have a plan." Arthur went to raid the maid's cart for a few important items, pleased to find everything they'd need.

When he turned back, Eames was disappointingly still dressed. "I think you're going to have to explain this plan first," he said.

Arthur dragged Eames into the little room with the ice machine, where he'd stashed the PASIV. "Naked," he said, then brandished the bottle of water he'd swiped. "Wet," he added, then waved the towel. "Locked out after your shower."

"Why me?" said Eames, though he'd bent to slip off his shoes.

"You're more distracting," explained Arthur, slipping Eames' shoes into the shoe bag he'd grabbed, then setting that aside and folding Eames' clothing neatly, piece by piece, into the laundry bag. He waved his hand at Eames' body as it was revealed. "You've got the tattoos, and the muscles, and your nipples are practically a distraction all on their own."

"Why thank you, petal," said Eames, looking amused when Arthur insisted on his underpants as well. "How are we going to..."

He was interrupted when Arthur started dumping water over his head, making sure it ran down his strong chest and back in rivulets, leaving droplets behind to sparkle in the dim light. "Rub it into your hair, it should look evenly wet."

"Warn a bloke next time, fuck," said Eames, nipples coming to proper attention at the shock. He ran his hands through his hair, gasping when Arthur poured another dollop of water onto him.

Arthur looked amused. "You needed to get properly to attention," he said, tweaking a nipple.

"Arse." Eames wrapped the towel around himself, after running it over his hair to make everything properly mussed and damp. "You're the one that couldn't pick the lock."

Arthur gave him a withering look. "You're the one that got the lock brand wrong when you did recon," he replied, putting Eames' shoes in with his clothes and pulling the bag shut. He loaded his hands with that and the PASIV, leaving nothing for Eames to do but take his towel-clad bottom out to the front desk.

Eames sighed deeply and went.

Arthur watched the whole way, waiting until Eames was out of sight to retrieve his electronic lockpicking kit from behind the ice machine, slipping the slender box back into his pocket.

Sometimes, Eames forgot that he wasn't the only criminal among them.

<p><center><img src="http://pornbunnyfarm.com/files/i-have-a-plan-brookebond.png" max-width="90%" /></center></p>

"Arthur's Ark, this is Arthur speaking," he said, the answer so rote by now that he sometimes answered his mom's calls that way.

"Arthur," purred a low, British-accented voice. "Exotic pet care is something of a speciality for you, I understand?"

"That's correct. Are you interested in boarding or home care?" Arthur asked, pulling up a new client contact in his database.

"Home care, for now, though we might need to board later," said the man. "I have a pair of sugar gliders that need someone to feed them on the evenings I have to work."

Arthur hmmed. "That seems quite doable, Mr..." His fingers tapped away entering data.

"Eames. Just Eames." He sounded amused. "Can you give me a quote?"

Arthur sighed, since this where he often lost people. "I'll really need to see the location and meet your pets before I can give you a quote."

"Worried they're hellions?" said Eames with a laugh. "Yes, all right, can I get an appointment sometime soon, then?"

"How about tonight? If you're free, I could come by, um, around seven depending on the travel time." Arthur had pulled up his calendar and was looking at his evening rounds, which included exercising Mrs. Cobb's pygmy goat and checking in on the Professor's collection of exotic lizards.

"Oh, bless you," said Eames. "Seven would be great, I can make us dinner."

Arthur blinked. "It's not a date, Mr. Eames," he said, though it was a gentle scold as he rather enjoyed the sound of the man's voice, and also wanted the job. "Text me the address?"

"I'll make dinner anyway," Eames replied, thankfully not offended. "And text you as soon as we've hung up so you can come meet the three of us."

"Thank you," said Arthur, not sure what else to say. "There's no charge for the consultation."

"Perish the thought," replied Eames. "I'll let you go, darling, and see you in a few hours."

"Yes, of course. See you soon." Arthur hung up feeling confused and annoyingly interested in his potential new client. Instead of dwelling on it, he added the appointment to his calendar, including the address as it arrived in his texts. He'd need to do a bit more research on sugar gliders before he left to make sure he didn't screw himself on the quote, so he put Eames' voice and accent and 'darling' out of his mind and got to work.

---

Despite the pygmy goat, Arthur managed to look his new-client best when he arrived at Eames' place. He tended to go for a kind of upscale business casual for new meetings, and today he had on a dark olive shirt, linen vest, and khaki trousers that had been meticulously lint-rolled, post-goat.

He tried not to be envious of the beautiful painted lady as he knocked on her green-gold door, surrounded by rich coral trim that somehow worked with the warm, golden-grey accents to bridge the gap.

"Either you're Arthur or I'm just very lucky," said the familiar voice, as the door swung open to reveal a man every bit as handsome and eccentric as his house. He had perfect two-day scruff, a mouth to kill for, a shirt with softly pastel vertical stripes in varying widths, and loosely-cut trousers that broke elegantly over bare feet.

"The former," said Arthur, holding out his hand to shake. "It's good to meet you, Mr. Eames."

"Just Eames, darling," he said, turning to display an ass that any man in San Francisco would be proud of and leading Arthur into the house.

Arthur closed the door behind them to give himself a moment to get his thoughts out of his pants and back onto business, then followed Eames through the narrow corridor and into an obviously remodeled open great room that led into the kitchen. One quarter of the room was an elaborate habitat for the sugar gliders, a floor to ceiling cage full of comfortable furniture for them. A dining table took up another quarter, and the rest was the usual living room stuff, giant tv and cozy seating that practically invited one to curl up.

"Your house is beautiful," said Arthur. He sighed softly at the welcoming feel of it, and caught the scent of something delicious. "Did you really make dinner?"

A broad grin broke across Eames' face. "That I did. Have a seat, I'll bring it out in a moment; we'll meet my gliders after you're fed."

"You really didn't have to," said Arthur, wandering over to the dining table and wondering just what kind of work Eames did that he could afford a place like this in the city.

"Oh, trust me," said Eames, pausing at the doorway into the kitchen, "generations of Eames women would disagree with that, darling."

Arthur couldn't help but chuckle at that, and he took the time to spread his napkin on his lap and get out his iPad to set beside himself, a reminder that this was not, in fact, a dinner date at a hot guy's expensive townhouse.

Eames brought out a big tray full of something that smelled amazing and looked even better, filo dough tartlets with some kind of garlicky filling. "Start with a couple of these, darling, it's spanakopita."

"Erm, thank you," said Arthur awkwardly, teasing one hot morsel off the tray and onto his plate carefully. He blew on it while Eames vanished, and then ventured a cautious nibble that was rewarded with a delicious mix of cheese, garlic, and spinach along with the flaky filo. He made a possibly obscene noise and sat back to just enjoy the bite.

"I guess you like them," said Eames, beaming as he put a lasagna on the table. "This is moussaka, I was in a Greek mood, I hope you don't mind? I didn't have time for salads."

Arthur chuckled. "I'm not a big fan of salad, anyway," he said, taking another bite of the delicious treat instead. "Mm, this is amazing and I'm definitely going to be happy to help with your sugar gliders if this is my reward."

"Well, this and money," said Eames, stealing Arthur's plate to serve up a big helping of moussaka and a few more of the little spanakopita treats.

"And money," agreed Arthur, accepting the return of his laden plate with anticipation. "God, this smells delicious."

"Thank you," replied Eames congenially. He was all easy charm and smiles with just an edge of smarminess that somehow managed to be appealing. He dug into his food with gusto, clearly enjoying it for itself.

"Are you a chef or something?" asked Arthur, after he finished his first spanakopita tart. He was dying to try the moussaka, so that was what he dug into next. The flavors were a delicious melange of beef and eggplant, tomato and spices that weren't quite what he expected, the potato another surprise that made it completely different from lasagna despite looking similar on the outside.

"Or something," said Eames, eyes twinkling with mischief. "This is my main hobby, aside from these guys." He gestured with his fork, not toward the cage, but to his pocket, which Arthur realized now was bulging and wriggling slightly. First one, then another adorable face popped out, and Eames chuckled. "You two are meant to sleep through this bit, no Greek food for you."

"They're very well-bonded, how old are they?" asked Arthur, taking another bite of the moussaka. He figured if he asked enough questions, he'd be able to enjoy both the food and Eames' voice, not to mention learning more about the job at hand. Pocket. Whatever.

"They're quite young yet, only five months, but I'm afraid I've got a client right now that won't let me bring them along on jobs." He looked regretful, stroking their heads with his free hand.

"They might bond to me," said Arthur dubiously. "I mean, clearly you're their main human, but sugar gliders will bond to a whole family group."

"Hm," said Eames, nibbling thoughtfully -- and rather distractingly -- at a pastry. "Well, I guess I'd just have to keep paying you to play with them, then?"

Arthur chuckled. "That's definitely an option, there's a few animals I visit on a regular basis." He was fond of most of them, even the pygmy goat, and he was working on finding a different caretaker for the one frilled lizard that just couldn't stand the sight of him.

Eames nodded, kissing both fuzzy heads, which had the effect of soothing them back to their nap. "You seem pleasant enough to have around so far. Tell me about yourself while we eat, maybe?"

"Exotic animals are something of a passion of mine," said Arthur, ducking his head and grinning shyly. "I love the research, and getting to learn something new and visit all these different pets. I have a tortoise I inherited from my grandpa, and a couple of rescue cats, but most of the pets I care for are other people's."

"That tells me about your business, darling, but you must have other interests?" Eames digs into his food as if to demonstrate.

"You haven't told me what you do for a living," retorted Arthur, blushing just a little. "I mean, work is my biggest hobby, but I also read a lot of near-future scifi and mystery novels."

"That is a very specific genre," said Eames.

"I like specificity," Arthur shot back, though the conversation felt more like a ping pong game than a battle, just tossing things back and forth to see what the other person would do with them.

Eames chuckled. "All right, well, I am specifically a fashion photographer, and thus my eccentricity carrying these babies around is largely tolerated, but for some reason this latest model is being a bit difficult about them."

"I also like indie rock and troll Soundcloud a lot on my phone," said Arthur, smiling now. "Have you ever modeled?" He ate another tartlet, feeling somewhat regretful that he was already starting to feel full.

"Quid pro quo is it now?" Eames chuckled. "I have, when I was younger, but I like it better on this side of the camera. No one tuts over my age lines or whether I've cut enough this time around."

"Cut enough?" said Arthur, brows furrowing.

"Oh, bulking and cutting, it's a bodybuilding thing. Not really a hobby of mine anymore, though I do enough to maintain what I've got," Eames explained, looking almost embarrassed. "I went through a period of wanting to be very big and manly."

"It's a good look on you," said Arthur with a soft smile. "Under the fashionable clothing, anyway."

Eames perked up immediately. "Why, thank you. I'm quite impressed that you manage to handle animals in your current state, as well."

Arthur chuckled. "Ah, thank you. I'm not always this dressed up, but new client, you know."

"I do indeed know," said Eames. "I see you liked the food?"

"It's delicious," said Arthur, not bothering to hide his enthusiasm. "Seriously, I haven't eaten this well in ages."

"I'm going to have to do a proper spread for you sometime, and not just two dishes," said Eames, preening under the praise. "I'm glad you read, anyway, a lot of bonding time with these guys is just sitting with them."

Arthur gave Eames a curious look and then asked, heart fluttering, "Do you have a girlfriend?"

Eames shook his head, smiling wryly. "Nor a boyfriend, I'm afraid."

"Me, neither," said Arthur, "though it would be the latter."

Eames cocked his head curiously, waiting for Arthur to make his point.

"Would you like to date?" asked Arthur, after a sip of water to wet his suddenly dry mouth. Eames had added a bit of lime and mint to it, which only really registered after the fact.

Eames' mouth widened into a grin. "That would be even better than having a stranger bonded to my babies, I must admit."

"Which part, dating me, or dating your petsitter?" asked Arthur, a little archly.

Eames' eyes crinkled. "Dating you, and knowing you'll be getting attached to all three of us. Which I will still pay for, until such time as I can lure you into my beautiful home permanently."

"It is a very beautiful home," said Arthur, "but that's a long way away. Let's start with this dinner, and maybe a movie after?" He gestured toward Eames' big tv, to show he didn't mean going out and lines and crowds, just a quiet evening in.

"That's a good start," said Eames, picking up Arthur's hand and kissing his knuckles; Eames' lips were just as soft as they looked. "But don't be afraid to dream a little bigger, darling."

---

Arthur unlocked the now-familiar gold door, which as usual took on a lovely greenish hue as it swung into the darkened house. "I'm home!" he called, leaving his rain-damp shoes, umbrella, and overcoat in the hall before padding into the living room and over to the big cage, ankles gently assaulted along the way by his cats, Sterling and Dick. The tortoise, George, had taken up residence in the sugar gliders' cage and seemed mostly happy to nap there, though he ambled out now in search of his food bowl. "How are you?"

Two striped heads popped up out of their hanging habitat, this one in the shape of a Christmas ornament in deference to the season. Arthur opened the door and walked in, and they launched one after the other and glided down to him, making happy little noises of welcome. "Feeling very chipper this afternoon, I see," said Arthur, allowing them to climb all over him and find their own comfortable perches for now.

"Dextrose and Sucrose have been very good girls all afternoon," said Eames, coming behind Arthur to wrap him in strong, warm arms. "I was doing some deep frying, so I banished them to the cage."

Arthur turned and got a kiss from him. "I'll take them upstairs to change, then, and come down here to read." He'd learned not to ask about impending food, because Eames loved his surprises and Arthur loved everything he cooked.

Eames kissed him again and asked softly, "Do you miss boarding?"

Arthur kissed his nose. "Not really, and Ariadne does a great job with that." After he'd decided to take Eames up on his offer to move in, he'd found an assistant to take over his old lease and board the animals for them. With a second pair of hands, they could take on more jobs and split up the territories -- it turned out that Mr. Hoole's frilled lizard liked Ariadne just fine.

Business was booming, for both him and Eames, and Arthur was looking forward to a very good Christmas this year.

"Good," said Eames, stealing a warm, sweet kiss. "Now go change, dinner will be half an hour or so."

Arthur smiled and nuzzled him, laughing when Suki poked her nose up to get kisses as well, followed by Dexy, who preferred to lick noses.

They went their separate ways, cats following Eames in hopes of treats, sugar gliders clinging to Arthur's waistcoat. Arthur changed into warm flannel pyjamas and a sweatshirt with a nice big pocket for the girls to snuggle in. His book was already downstairs and it was, he thought, quite as good a life as he ever could have dreamed up for himself.