41 - Stable

Oh, fuck off, in the manner that is Eames all over, like he'd ever succumb to something as common as stable, as if he'd ever even consider fucking Arthur through the mattress would ever be something commonworth, while it is everything but that.

42 - Strange

It straddles him in the way that that Eames does, the weight of the ounce of his own flesh, the idea that has been not planted, but born out of absolutely nowhere, the entire nebulosity of if dragging, clawing at him, the way, the strange way he comes around to confessing himself he loves Eames.

43 - Summer

It must be a dream, because, surely, since the last drags of summer don't play, seek-and-hide, through all the shades Arthur can see while Eames's mouth's at work on his cock, tidying up the display, filing away their most recent stay in Italy, but it's all Arthur can do while caressing Eames's stubbled cheek, wording around promises he'll make sure to keep.

44 - Taboo

The fist time Eames sees Arthur's bisected glans, he doesn't shun away; he's like a man possessed, reaching, tonguing further than ever, feeling more than he ever has, licking at the scarred, sensitive head of Arthur's own making, wishing nigh unbearably that he'd been there, at the time, to watch the blade of the scalpel drawing out blood, to lick it off, to fortify, simply because he's a selfish being.

45 - Ugly

There isn't a part of Eames that Arthur considers as being ugly after all his clothes are off, after sweaty hands, after hurried, frantic lips, after commitments deeper than skin, on his way to love more deeper than he can even begin to fathom.

46 - War

It's all a matter of perception, Eames reminds himself as he delves into the trench, grimy, filthy, lodging himself against Arthur's prone form, claiming his stiff fingers in between his own, burrowing his head into Arthur's unresponsive, blood-spattered neck, knowing with an unsurprising relief that death will be the ultimate dream, and as if underlining Eames's conviction, the earth shatters around them, leaving the two corpses to be found by their teammates, while the dead look on, and smile.

47 - Water

Arthur watched idly as the last drop from the pot refused to let go and fall into the mug, clinging, dangling there, and slowly, inexorably summoning a phantom icy hand curl around Arthur's heart as he blinked at the metaphor of time itself, how this was the seconds stretching into minutes stretching into months while waiting for Eames to come home.

48 - Welcome

There was a time for words, there were times for action, frantic kisses and roaming, reclaiming hands, and they'd been though them all, to be sure, but there were times, like this, when a fond gaze and the smell of dinner was more than enough for Arthur to know that he was welcomed, even with dried blood on his hands, with nothing but the clothes on his back and the familiar feeling of love, love, love in his chest.

49 - Winter

There really, truly, wasn't much more to do about the cliché splayed in front of Arthur, other than to accept the proffered glass of blood-red wine and slump on the bear skin in front of the fireplace as gracefully as he could manage while Eames was dragging him downwards, hands finding their path beneath Arthur's bathrobe, brushing over his balls, teasing with a smirk on his face which did nothing if not intensify the mischief in his eyes as the snow outside the cabin continued to block them from any form of civilization, as if playing right into Eames's pocket.

50 - Wood

"'Blair Witch Project', honestly, Eames," Arthur manages through his fits of chuckles at Eames's outstanding performance of sniveling and babbling quite incoherently in the light of the torch, right after he'd charged into the tent in the middle of the fucking night as if the devil himself were chomping at his heels, and if it wasn't for the sheer, unfeigned panic in his eyes startling Arthur into suspicious alertness, if it wasn't for the knowledge that Eames's ideas of a practical jokes involved people actually coming out of them relatively unharmed, they'd never have made it out alive, marred with shared nightmares until death do them apart.