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There was a decided lack of Arthur in the house these days. Eames mused over the lack of Arthur as he finished shaving. His last job had finished three days before and he had come home to their flat, expecting an Arthur who had also finished his latest job in Iceland a week before. It had been decided that they would meet back the house and take the rest of November and December off. To spend their first holiday season together.
He had expected an Arthur who would be happy to see him, giving him that closed mouth smile that Eames loved until Arthur couldn’t take it anymore and grinned broadly, showing off his dimples.
What Eames had gotten was a distracted Arthur. An Arthur who had rushed through Eames’ homecoming dinner, and the sex that followed instead of the Arthur who delighted in long dinners with deep conversation, with dinner and the argument that followed serving as foreplay. Even the apres sex cuddling had been cut short by Arthur’s phone. He had fallen asleep to the murmured conversation, lulled by Arthur’s voice.
“Curioser and curioser,” said Eames to himself. He was alone because Arthur had rushed out of the door at the ungodly hour of 9 am, in a hurry to get to his whatever he was doing today. Eames hadn’t quite gotten an explanation from him.
At loose ends, Eames tidied up the bathroom and started down the hall to the office. Perhaps there would be a clue to Arthur’s whereabouts on the desk. And if the drawer was locked, well, then, Arthur knew what he was getting into with Eames.
There was nothing in the deep desk drawer except a stack of receipts from a shop called Yourtips and a business card from the same shop with a phone number written on it, with a “Call me” above the numbers with the name Janet.
Eames tidied the small stack of handwritten receipts, looking at the numbers that represented what had been bought, with few item names that were messily written. All the item names were of a salacious nature. There was a ‘ring me I’m yours’, a ‘with balls on’, and a ‘I really can’t stay’. What made Eames’ eyebrows rise was the last notation for what looked like ‘dicks, 10 inch, gold’.
There was a sinking feeling in his gut. Arthur had been distant in the last four weeks. And when he’d answered the phone that first night, he’d said the word Janet. Since he’d been home, Eames had spent three nights, and three dinners in Arthur’s delightful company. Otherwise he had been out of the house, coming back late twice.
It was true that this thing with Arthur was something of a new thing, less than ten months. Perhaps they had moved too fast. Perhaps Arthur was bored, perhaps Eames was boring. Shutting and locking the drawer, Eames decided to go the living room and sit down and wait for him to come home and then he would ask him about the receipts. The last thing Eames wanted to do was interfere with Arthur’s life, to keep him if he didn’t want to be kept.
It was getting dark when Arthur came home. He came in and flicked on the light in the living room and dropped the package he was holding when he saw Eames sitting alone in the cold, dark room. “What are you doing in the dark?”
Eames shrugged his shoulders. “Waiting.”
Arthur crossed to the thermostat and bumped it up and pulled off his overcoat. “Waiting for what?”
“Waiting for you to come home from Janet and tell me you’re leaving me.” Oh, he hadn’t meant to say that, hadn’t meant to show his hand so plainly.
Picking up the package, Arthur turned to Eames. “What are you talking about? I’m not leaving you.”
“You’ve been AWOL since I got home. And I thought I would give you what you wanted.”
Arthur brandished the package at Eames and dropped it into his lap. “I was at Yourtips making your Christmas present. I couldn’t get it done before you came home.” He turned away and started taking off his shoes.
“Christmas isn’t for two weeks. And what is Yourtips? And what is the 10 inch dick you bought yourself?” Eames could hear his voice rising but dammit, he was upset. His house was coming down around his ears and he’d been happy for the first time in a long time.
Arthur blinked at him. And blinked at him. And began to laugh. “Open the package, you dick. You’ll see then.”
Eames frowned at the package. It was a lumpy package, the edges ragged and unevenly taped. The brown paper packaging looked like it had been dropped or sat on. “Darling, this isn’t your best work.”
“Janet insisted on wrapping it. After she helped me with the edges it was getting late.”
Picking at the uneven tape Eames started to feel foolish. Surely if Arthur was cheating on him or unhappy he would be more forthright about it and would tell him the truth. Arthur always told the truth. He tore the paper.
The ugliest jumper he had ever seen fell across his knees. It was dark chartreuse green with gold piping on the sleeves and epaulets at the shoulders. There was a red ball on the front the jumper, made of some sort of chunky yarn that made it look 3D. The sleeves were uneven and there was a tear near the hemline, leaving the edges ragged. Under the bell were words, in bright orange swirly script that read “Keep your balls on, I’m coming, Santa.”
Arthur had sat down beside him and was watching him open the jumper. “I met Janet before I went to Iceland. She runs a yarn shop called Yourtips, which I think is a knitting reference. There is an ugly sweater contest at the shop every December and I thought we could go to it. You’ve always talked about getting more involved with the local art scent. And the 10 inch dicks are sticks, or knitting needles. Janet has a strange sense of humor, she’s at least eighty, with bad handwriting. And I wanted to make you something unique for Christmas.”
Eames definitely felt foolish now and he could feel his cheeks turning pink. He stood up and started to take off the jumper he was wearing. To replace it with the ugly one Arthur had made. “Oh, it’s unique all right.” At the back of the jumper was a broad stripe of purple yarn that was obviously put there to make it bigger, and uglier. He fingered it, “What’s this, darling?”
Arthur stood too and helped Eames put the sweater on. He fussed with the epaulets and straightened the hem and took a step back. Cocking his head, he nodded once. “That’s because you are never the same size when you come back from a job. I had no idea you’d put on some muscle. That stripe is to make the ugly sweater bigger. I’ve been working with Janet for three days.”
"When is the contest at this knitting shop?" He put his arms around him, pulling him close. Arthur went willingly.
"Tomorrow night, at eight." He edged closer yet, nuzzling his chin against Eames' cheekbone.
"I will be proud to wear this. We might even win. Well, we’ll just have to keep our balls on. "