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Cobb is in the gazebo in the back yard teaching Eames how to follow a dance partner and Arthur and Mal are sprawled under the apple tree up the hill, working halfheartedly over some schematics and drinking gin and tonics from a huge pitcher sweating in the grass next to them, the ice half melted. It's early summer, first heat, and Mal is wearing an old one-piece bathing suit with a pair of paint-splattered shorts over it. Arthur is wearing a worn pair of khakis and a white button down, untucked, sleeves rolled up. There are apple blossoms in Mal's hair, in the pitcher, falling into their discarded shoes, but they haven't moved.
"He is doing so well," Mal says, sucking on a slice of lime from her drink.
"I don't really see why he had to learn in the first place," Arthur says.
"For the dreams," Mal says. "He was able to hold the shape of a girl for nearly an hour yesterday, did he tell you?"
"No," Arthur says. "I don't want him pushing himself at the expense of his schoolwork--"
"Oh, Arthur," Mal says. "You need another drink. You need six drinks."
Arthur holds out his glass and Mal hefts the pitcher and sloshes the drink carelessly into his glass and it overflows a little and Arthur has to suck it quickly off the top and then lick off his knuckles. "I just--" he says. "Do you ever think this isn't good for him?"
"I only let him have one gin and tonic," Mal says. "Should I have watered it down more?"
"No, not--not gin," Arthur says. "Although be careful, Jesus, do you know how much trouble you can get in for letting minors drink in this country?--I meant, this. us."
"How could you ever think you aren't good for Eames," Mal says. "Look at him! A year ago he was lost, and now--" She looks down the hill where Cobb is pushing Eames through a series of turns and says, "Well, perhaps his dancing needs a bit of work, but--"
"Don't you think maybe he deserves a normal life?" Arthur says. "He could do anything--he could get into a good college, and--"
"Pchuh, normal," Mal says disdainfully. "Arthur, listen to me. Eames is not normal--"
"He could be."
"He could not," she says, clutching his wrist fiercely. "He had a normal life with a normal family and they very nearly ruined him. They had their chance. Look at what you are helping him to become; he deserves so much more than any stupid normal life."
"Maybe," Arthur says.
"Anyhow, he would never leave you," Mal says. "He adores you, have you even seen how he looks at you?"
"Yes," Arthur says to his drink.
"Oh, don't look so grim," Mal says. "If I had a man looking at me like that, I would have him in every room in the house, we would fuck under the moon and stars, I would mount him like a wolf--"
"Mal, God," Arthur mutters. "Come on. Cobb."
"What makes you think I haven't had Dom under the stars," Mal says, grinning mischievously.
"Mal," Arthur says.
"Don't look so embarrassed," Mal sniffs. "It's just sex."
"Which I am not ever going to have with Eames," Arthur says firmly, ready to change the subject, but Mal is busy picking apple blossoms out of the pitcher and pretends not to hear.
"All I'm saying is that it wouldn't hurt him to extend his education in a new direction," she says. Arthur snorts.
"Believe me, he knows plenty about that particular area already," Arthur says. "A little too much, if you ask me."
"He doesn't know what it's like to be taken to bed by someone who cares for him, for his pleasure," Mal says. "By someone he can trust not to hurt him."
"No, Mal," Arthur says.
"He's not your son or your brother; he's old enough, it isn't even illegal--"
"It doesn't matter if it's legal," Arthur says angrily. "I won't ever do that, not ever."
"But you have thought about it a little, yes?" she says. Arthur says nothing, but nods finally, jaw tightening.
"So," Mal says. "Admit to yourself that it's not a crime to have a stray thought about him. He's brilliant and gorgeous and he loves you completely; you'd have to be dead inside not to respond to it. And, oh, Arthur, you are very far from dead inside."
"Okay," Arthur says, past the lump in his throat. "Okay." He's been miserable over it, sleeping badly. He has been thinking maybe it would be better for Eames to live with Mal and Cobb for a while, but hasn't been able to come up with a way to break it to Eames without making him think he's done something wrong.
"Okay!" Mal says, and wraps her arm around his shoulder, spilling a little of her drink on his pants. "Now, I think it is very important that we drink the rest of this pitcher and then make Dom and Eames go get us some Mexican food, what do you think?"
Arthur clinks his glass against hers. Down the hill, Cobb and Eames are laughing, Eames' face bright and young. "I think I want nachos," Arthur says.
"You can have anything you want," Mal says, gesturing grandly with her glass. "All you have to do is ask. Oh, with extra sour cream and olives, though."