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When the officiant says, "You may kiss," they just look at each other. Public displays aren't exactly their style, and if Eames feels anything like Arthur does right now, this would be one hell of a display. His blood is fizzing, and he can't keep the grin off his face.
"We'll do that later," he says, and Eames visibly restrains himself from elaborating on that.
The officiant looks a little confused, but she smiles and congratulates them as she hands over their wedding certificate. Arthur and Eames both shake hands with the clerk and the secretary who served as witnesses, and then they walk out of the office, married.
They aren't dressed up, though Eames did insist on a new pair of shoes, and socks temporarily stolen out of Yusuf's suitcase. Arthur is wearing his grandfather's watch and his favorite navy sweater, so between them, they're covered.
In the street, they might walk a little closer to each other. Back at the rented office, they might spend a little more time staring fatuously at each other, but only Ariadne notices, and she doesn't seem to mind.
Back at their apartment, they finally come together, standing just inside the front door with arms wound around each other as they kiss, and kiss, and kiss.
In a while, they'll stop. They'll eat dinner, and slump together on the sofa, and eventually they'll go to bed and consummate this thing. But right now, they're kissing like they could kiss forever, breaths mingling, and Arthur is incandescently happy.
"Husband," he murmurs into Eames's mouth.
"Husband," Eames murmurs back.
And they kiss.