[FIC] "Highway to Hell"
Title: Highway to Hell (Because it's a fantastic song!)
Words: 748 (also no beta, so feel free to point out mistakes)
Prompts: hell, smirk, highway, lies , natural,
Team: Team Romance of course!
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“Sometimes I wonder how come I'm still working with Cobb,” Eames sighs as he changes the magazine in his gun. “I mean, I should know better by now, but no - ”
“You can stop whining whenever you feel like it,” Arthur smirks next to him and pushes harder at the speed pedal, in hopes to go faster. Eames snorts, and shakes his head. They're already breaking all possible speed limits and he's pretty sure it was a person they hit thirty second ago, well a projection of one, and he honestly doesn't know what's more terrifying, Arthur's driving skills or his maniacal grin. It's a rare sight and Eames is still contemplating if it's a good or a bad thing.
“You have dimples, Arthur. I'm impressed,” he comments and checks the rear window for their tail, but it seems they've lost it. Or maybe they're scared of Arthur, one can never tell these days.
“What an insightful observation, Mr. Eames,” Arthur chuckles as if it's the most natural thing in the world, and if it is, Eames feels justified to be jealous of whoever knew this before him. “Clearly, you're a true pro when it comes to reading people,” Arthur says, in the same tone he'd used to say he's impressed with Eames during the Inception job.
“it's just so easy to read you, darling. I see right through you,” he shrugs, and decides it's safe enough for him to abandon road watching in favour of the slightly insane point man. If the mission hasn't been completed by now, it wouldn't make any difference if they died now or in five minutes.
Arthur smirks and turns to look him in the eye, not even watching where they're going. “Do you?”
“Of course, darling,” the Brit grins, and turns in his seat, to make himself more comfortable, the car shaking gently, trying to keep up with Arthur's demands. It's not exactly a sporty model, and usually Eames would have something to say about it, but he has his priorities.
And maybe a hunch that he's witnessing something important here.
Arthur laughs, “Such lies, Eames,” and reaches for the radio, and alright, maybe Eames is a bit worried, because dream or not, death in a car crash is rather unpleasant, if he has something to say about it.
“Keep your eyes on the road,” he sighs and pushes Arthur's hand away. “I will look for something.”
“Fine,” Arthur rolls his eyes, or at least Eames thinks he does.
“How much time do we have?” He asks, as he finds a station that has old rock music on it, and has to wonder, whose influence is this particular part. For some reason, he thinks. I don't think Cobb choose this one.
“Five minutes, and twenty-seven seconds,” Arthur answers, back in his professional mode and Eames has a flash of doubt if the last three minutes even happened.
“Are we in a limbo?” He asks, because he is a man enough to do it, without feeling overly stupid.
“What? What are you talking about, Eames?” Arthur asks and arches one eyebrow, glancing over Eames. “Did you get shot?”
“No, why would you think that?”
“Why would you ask if we're in a limbo?” Arthur counters, tone condescending like always, but there is an edge of a smile in the corner of his mouth. Eames thinks it's lovely, even if Arthur is being an arsehole at the moment.
“If I said it's because you're too perfect to be true, would you believe me?”
“Again with the lies,” Arthur sighs and leans further into his seat, the road in front of them is clear of the other cars now, so he can relax a bit.
“It's not a lie,” Eames fumes, and puts his most charming grin on. “Personally, I think it's rather romantic,” he adds and as if on a cue a Highway to Hell blasts - scaring the shit out of Eames - through the speakers in the back of the car. He turns, confused, because what the hell just happened, he's pretty sure neither of them touched the volume control so there is no reason for it to be loud.
“Something wrong?” Arthur asks him innocently, and when Eames looks at him, there is this damn, self-pleased smirk that is almost, but not yet, a smile. Oh, Eames realizes then. Oh!
“You're a cheeky little bugger, aren't you, Arthur?”
“I think you confuse me with someone, Mr. Eames.”
Eames only smiles.
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Words: 748 (also no beta, so feel free to point out mistakes)
Prompts: hell, smirk, highway, lies , natural,
Team: Team Romance of course!
+
“Sometimes I wonder how come I'm still working with Cobb,” Eames sighs as he changes the magazine in his gun. “I mean, I should know better by now, but no - ”
“You can stop whining whenever you feel like it,” Arthur smirks next to him and pushes harder at the speed pedal, in hopes to go faster. Eames snorts, and shakes his head. They're already breaking all possible speed limits and he's pretty sure it was a person they hit thirty second ago, well a projection of one, and he honestly doesn't know what's more terrifying, Arthur's driving skills or his maniacal grin. It's a rare sight and Eames is still contemplating if it's a good or a bad thing.
“You have dimples, Arthur. I'm impressed,” he comments and checks the rear window for their tail, but it seems they've lost it. Or maybe they're scared of Arthur, one can never tell these days.
“What an insightful observation, Mr. Eames,” Arthur chuckles as if it's the most natural thing in the world, and if it is, Eames feels justified to be jealous of whoever knew this before him. “Clearly, you're a true pro when it comes to reading people,” Arthur says, in the same tone he'd used to say he's impressed with Eames during the Inception job.
“it's just so easy to read you, darling. I see right through you,” he shrugs, and decides it's safe enough for him to abandon road watching in favour of the slightly insane point man. If the mission hasn't been completed by now, it wouldn't make any difference if they died now or in five minutes.
Arthur smirks and turns to look him in the eye, not even watching where they're going. “Do you?”
“Of course, darling,” the Brit grins, and turns in his seat, to make himself more comfortable, the car shaking gently, trying to keep up with Arthur's demands. It's not exactly a sporty model, and usually Eames would have something to say about it, but he has his priorities.
And maybe a hunch that he's witnessing something important here.
Arthur laughs, “Such lies, Eames,” and reaches for the radio, and alright, maybe Eames is a bit worried, because dream or not, death in a car crash is rather unpleasant, if he has something to say about it.
“Keep your eyes on the road,” he sighs and pushes Arthur's hand away. “I will look for something.”
“Fine,” Arthur rolls his eyes, or at least Eames thinks he does.
“How much time do we have?” He asks, as he finds a station that has old rock music on it, and has to wonder, whose influence is this particular part. For some reason, he thinks. I don't think Cobb choose this one.
“Five minutes, and twenty-seven seconds,” Arthur answers, back in his professional mode and Eames has a flash of doubt if the last three minutes even happened.
“Are we in a limbo?” He asks, because he is a man enough to do it, without feeling overly stupid.
“What? What are you talking about, Eames?” Arthur asks and arches one eyebrow, glancing over Eames. “Did you get shot?”
“No, why would you think that?”
“Why would you ask if we're in a limbo?” Arthur counters, tone condescending like always, but there is an edge of a smile in the corner of his mouth. Eames thinks it's lovely, even if Arthur is being an arsehole at the moment.
“If I said it's because you're too perfect to be true, would you believe me?”
“Again with the lies,” Arthur sighs and leans further into his seat, the road in front of them is clear of the other cars now, so he can relax a bit.
“It's not a lie,” Eames fumes, and puts his most charming grin on. “Personally, I think it's rather romantic,” he adds and as if on a cue a Highway to Hell blasts - scaring the shit out of Eames - through the speakers in the back of the car. He turns, confused, because what the hell just happened, he's pretty sure neither of them touched the volume control so there is no reason for it to be loud.
“Something wrong?” Arthur asks him innocently, and when Eames looks at him, there is this damn, self-pleased smirk that is almost, but not yet, a smile. Oh, Eames realizes then. Oh!
“You're a cheeky little bugger, aren't you, Arthur?”
“I think you confuse me with someone, Mr. Eames.”
Eames only smiles.
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