Dreamshare goes legal, Arthur goes corporate, Eames goes and (against his better judgement) falls in love.

“Oh, that’s lovely,” Mallorie said enviously as she peered at the heavy copper-and-opal collar around Eames’ neck. “It suits you so beautifully.”

Eames puffed out his chest under her admiration. “He has exquisite taste, does he not?” he said proudly, turning to and fro so that the sunlight might catch the opals and set them ablaze like small bursting fires. He knew very well how impressive the effect was against his crimson hide. “He had it made particularly for me; he took one of my scales to the jeweler to make certain the colours were correct.”

The thing about the lists was that Arthur had never meant them. He had never really wanted a life in which he did things that were out-of-control and stupid and self-destructive. What he really wanted was a great job and someone he could go to the gym with and talk to and share good wines and theater tickets with. Someone who looked like he belonged in a suit and had a wry smile and got Arthur's pretentious jokes and was prepared to stay up late drinking wine and watching late night television. Someone classy. It was just that sometimes, when his actual life got too stressful, he liked to pretend that he was stupid, that he wanted – something different.

Roman AU. Arthur is a military tribune, Eames cheats at dice, and the result is a merry chase

"Actually, do you know what this whole place reminds me of?" Eames says, gesturing around the room with a whirl of his hand. "Arthur. Look at it. It's the Victorian Country Home version of expensive ties and silver suitcases and never getting anything stuck in your teeth."