Fic: Mr. Eames and The Third Eye - Part 4
Title: Mr. Eames and The Third Eye
Author: avocado_love
Team: Angst
Prompt(s): Naked, Horizon, Natural
Word count: 2,000 (this chapter)
Rating: NC-17
Notes: Based off of this prompt in the Kink Meme. This chapter is light-ish on angst right now, but expect more in the following chapters. (No actually, I lie. This is where the angst starts.)
Summary: After a near fatal reaction to a bad somnacin mixture, Eames wakes up with the ability to see auras.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3
****
Eames spent the greater part of the next few months working out of his safe house in Mombasa. He'd always had a liking for overcrowded, hot cities. People who lived there were that much closer to the edge, and it cut down on a lot of bullshit. When someone wished to knife Eames in the gut, they usually said so to his face, instead of leaving him to deduce their intent by their aura.
Life was very much simpler that way.
He got in and out of a few scrapes, but it was nothing more than he could handle. He took a few dream share jobs on the side, kept his edge, and tried not to think very hard on what might have been.
From the rumors which trickled down through mutual contacts, Cobb and Arthur were having their fair share of troubles as well. They had developed a reputation of taking up dirty, high risk jobs that no one else would touch. It made Eames grit his teeth every time another story came down the pipeline: it was one thing to take on high-risk clients, but the rewards should always be equally as high. As far he'd heard, Arthur and Cobb were living from job to job, and escaping some of those by the skin of their teeth. They were better than that. Arthur was better than that.
Cobol Engineering practically owned all the major criminal cabals in Kenya, so of course Eames was made aware when the higher-ups put a steep price out on Cobb and Arthur's heads.
Wanted dead or alive was much more ominous than simply dead.
So Eames was more than a little taken aback to see Cobb show his face in Mombasa of all places - though he tried not to show it - while Eames was busy seeding the casino there with his own forged poker chips.
A man who showed up in the heart of enemy territory was either desperate or insanely brave, and after a long look at Cobb's aura, Eames thought it was a little of both.
Cobb had not much changed since Mal's funeral. The grief was a little more sunken in, perhaps, the purple ego ground down by recent failures. But it was clear that Cobb was still willing to take chances, still saw all opportunity - and people - as a means to an end.
He proved it with his opening line.
“Inception,” Cobb said, and when Eames looked at him sharply, he added, “Don’t try telling me it’s not possible.”
It was possible, or so the theory went. Eames had even been on a team that had tried it, once. When he said as much, he saw something flash through Cobb’s aura he had not expected: a bright ribbon of pure, unfiltered hope.
“That’s what I keep telling Arthur,” Cobb said.
The name was thrown out casually, but of course Eames saw the intent behind it.
You son of a bitch, he thought, but with more grudging respect than irritation. Cobb knew that offers of money would mean little to him. Eames had what he needed, and could easily gain more. No, it was the prospect of an interesting job that he craved, and of course his attraction to Cobb’s point man.
Cobb was dangling both out at Eames like a hook and a line, and God help him… Eames felt himself take the bait.
****
When it all went to Hell in the very first level of the Fischer job, Eames couldn’t even bring himself to be angry at Cobb for his betrayal. Not really.
After all, he knew it would happen.
The only positive he could find, while nearly being caught in the teeth of limbo and eventual insanity, was watching Arthur’s reaction: once Cobb's right-hand man got past the initial shock, he took it on the chin, like any good solider, and willingly went with Cobb to soften up Fischer in preparation for the next level.
Yet the bright sheen on Arthur’s bronze marbling - the loyal, protective glow he'd had regarding Dom since ever since Mal's death - faded. Whatever happened with this job, Eames knew that Arthur would still respect Cobb, still consider him a friend, but he was done being his point man.
That was very valuable information to have, indeed.
"You mustn't be afraid to dream a bit bigger, darling," Eames told Arthur, not much later, and watched honey and bronze aura flush in pleasure as Eames blew a sniper away.
****
What felt like days later, after fighting an endless army of Fischer's subconscious security in snowy mountain terrain, Eames got the satisfaction of not only waking up with his mind fully intact, but seeing Cobb successfully cross the border back into his home country. He left with an elderly gentleman, a bit wide-eyed, but his energies more fully at peace than Eames had ever seen from him.
He made a mental note to look Ariadne up after things cooled off, and learn from her the full story on what had happened between herself and Cobb down there.
The girl had a lovely aura of a clear, almost pristine blue. The pure hue one would see in deep-packed snow. Her aura had a similar sense of depth as Arthur's, but there were edges there as well - razor sharp, and nobody's fool. She would be a devastating extractor one day, should she stay in the field. And unlike most, she had been wholly untainted by her brief jaunt in limbo.
Eames pulled his gaze away before she could catch him staring, and walked to stand patiently in line to collect his luggage.
Afterwards, he sensed more than saw another pair of eyes on him as he joined the queue for a taxi.
"How long do you plan to stay in the country?" Arthur asked, melting from the crowd to appear by Eames' side. As if by magic.
Eames glanced sideways at him, saw the intent shining out through Arthur's aura, and carefully hid a smile. "Why? I hardly think Cobb will need my services again so soon..."
Arthur shook his head. "Cobb's out of the business."
Eames raised an eyebrow, saying nothing. He knew what Arthur wanted by logical deduction, and of course from his aura, but he needed to hear it aloud. Sometimes, a man just needed to know that he was wanted.
"I'm putting together a team," Arthur said. "I want you on it. I don't care what it takes, Eames. Name your price."
He stared at him. He hadn't quite seen that coming, and it had been quite a long time since he was last taken by surprise. "You should really work on your negotiating skills, Arthur."
"I'm the type of man who gets what he wants," Arthur replied, stepping into Eames' space, his gaze laser-focused, and for the second time Eames caught sight of the white crystal shard of his own aura in Arthur's heart. The man still carried a torch for him, after all this time.
Eames felt a rush of affection sweep over him, as intoxicating as fine wine. "Let's discuss it over dinner, yeah?"
****
They didn't make it to dinner. In hindsight, Eames knew they had let their feelings smolder too long to play at subtly -- something they'd started literally years ago.
The two of them climbed in the same taxi, and after letting Arthur give the directions to the driver, Eames leaned over to whisper something in his ear; maybe follow it up with a teasing peck on the cheek. Only Arthur turned his head, and Eames found himself kissing him like a man long starved of affection.
Arthur, if anything, was just as enthusiastic. And after they pulled back for a gasp of air, he called out a change of location to the driver: to the nearest hotel.
****
Eames preferred to keep his eyes shut during sex. Or better yet, in a darkened room. It wasn't that he was a selfish lover - he'd just rather not be privy to instant, uncensored knowledge of his partner's every random thought and feeling. There was nothing that deflated a stiffy faster than seeing that the person he was about to bed was secretly nervous or had ulterior motives, or worse, pretending.
Arthur, however, was different. The more sensual yellows and ambers, in all of their rich complexity, seemed to glow as he and Eames kissed, and divested each other of clothing. There was no fear, no ulterior motives other than the usual - he wanted to be fucked, which was more than fine with Eames.
"You're beautiful, darling, you know that?" Eames found himself blurting, arms boxing in Arthur to both sides on the mattress and sweeping his eyes over him - looking at him body and soul.
Arthur's cheeks and neck flushed with red with embarrassment, but gold in his aura brightened in obvious pleasure.
"I didn't peg you for being sappy in bed, Eames."
Grinning, Eames leaned over him. "You like it." Then he took Arthur's mouth against his, as he teased his thighs apart.
He could feel Arthur's answering smirk, and he went willing and pliant under him. Eames fingered him open with the greatest of care, delighting both in that Arthur was more than willing to verbalize what felt good, while his aura just as clearly showed him.
Eames did shut his eyes, later, as he pushed in. Arthur's body yielded to him - as sweet and warm as honey.
****
Four months later
****
Eames awoke to the sun shining in his eyes and a not entirely pleasant soreness to his lower back. Time was when he could have pulled an all night stakeout without any ill effect, but he nearing his late thirties and suspected that those days would soon be beyond him.
He stretched, limbs out like a starfish, and felt several vertebrae pop back into place. The other side of the bed was cool, and empty. Eames squinted open his eyes to see the blankets on Arthur's side pulled up to a perfectly squared pillow. Arthur usually woke first and came back from a morning run by the time Eames rolled himself out of bed.
Today, however, it was late even for Eames' standards. Arthur would be at the warehouse by now, and would be in a royal snit if Eames didn't show himself by at ten AM.
Odd, how that didn't bother him in the slightest.
Eames hadn’t been in anything close to a long term relationship since he'd acquired the Eye. He was still getting used to the particularities of arranging his life alongside someone else. It helped that, after four months, Eames still loved to look upon Arthur, and still found himself to be fascinated at what he saw.
Eames didn't rush through his morning routine, though he didn't dally either. He stopped at a local coffee shop for a bite, noted the interesting carrot-orange coloring to the baristas aura - he would have to try that out later for himself - and strode into the warehouse at exactly five minutes 'til ten.
Ariadne's desk was set up to the front, and she had her iPod headphones in as she carefully drafted out the first level. She looked up at his approach and grinned. "Watch out," she warned, "he's in a mood today."
"Is he?" Eames placed a cup of coffee for her upon her desk. He hadn't bought anything for Arthur as he had a dedicated coffee pot in the back room and by this time of day would be on his third cup. There was no need to encourage him.
"Something to do with the chemist, I think," she said, and paused to take a sip from the cup. "Mmm. Thanks."
Eames frowned, but Arthur would have called if it weren't anything he couldn't handle. Yusuf had been sadly unavailable for this job, and they had been forced to buy from local dealers. Quality came at both a price and hassle.
As if aware he was being talked about, Eames heard the door to the back room open and the distinct click of Arthur's well-made shoes upon concrete. Eames turned, a question on his lips... and froze.
Arthur walked towards them, the skin under his eyes a little bruised from the late stakeout and little sleep, his mouth pressed into an annoyed line.
The shadow swirled above his honey and bronze aura, as menacing as the hand of death itself.
*****
(tbc)
Author: avocado_love
Team: Angst
Prompt(s): Naked, Horizon, Natural
Word count: 2,000 (this chapter)
Rating: NC-17
Notes: Based off of this prompt in the Kink Meme. This chapter is light-ish on angst right now, but expect more in the following chapters. (No actually, I lie. This is where the angst starts.)
Summary: After a near fatal reaction to a bad somnacin mixture, Eames wakes up with the ability to see auras.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3
****
Eames spent the greater part of the next few months working out of his safe house in Mombasa. He'd always had a liking for overcrowded, hot cities. People who lived there were that much closer to the edge, and it cut down on a lot of bullshit. When someone wished to knife Eames in the gut, they usually said so to his face, instead of leaving him to deduce their intent by their aura.
Life was very much simpler that way.
He got in and out of a few scrapes, but it was nothing more than he could handle. He took a few dream share jobs on the side, kept his edge, and tried not to think very hard on what might have been.
From the rumors which trickled down through mutual contacts, Cobb and Arthur were having their fair share of troubles as well. They had developed a reputation of taking up dirty, high risk jobs that no one else would touch. It made Eames grit his teeth every time another story came down the pipeline: it was one thing to take on high-risk clients, but the rewards should always be equally as high. As far he'd heard, Arthur and Cobb were living from job to job, and escaping some of those by the skin of their teeth. They were better than that. Arthur was better than that.
Cobol Engineering practically owned all the major criminal cabals in Kenya, so of course Eames was made aware when the higher-ups put a steep price out on Cobb and Arthur's heads.
Wanted dead or alive was much more ominous than simply dead.
So Eames was more than a little taken aback to see Cobb show his face in Mombasa of all places - though he tried not to show it - while Eames was busy seeding the casino there with his own forged poker chips.
A man who showed up in the heart of enemy territory was either desperate or insanely brave, and after a long look at Cobb's aura, Eames thought it was a little of both.
Cobb had not much changed since Mal's funeral. The grief was a little more sunken in, perhaps, the purple ego ground down by recent failures. But it was clear that Cobb was still willing to take chances, still saw all opportunity - and people - as a means to an end.
He proved it with his opening line.
“Inception,” Cobb said, and when Eames looked at him sharply, he added, “Don’t try telling me it’s not possible.”
It was possible, or so the theory went. Eames had even been on a team that had tried it, once. When he said as much, he saw something flash through Cobb’s aura he had not expected: a bright ribbon of pure, unfiltered hope.
“That’s what I keep telling Arthur,” Cobb said.
The name was thrown out casually, but of course Eames saw the intent behind it.
You son of a bitch, he thought, but with more grudging respect than irritation. Cobb knew that offers of money would mean little to him. Eames had what he needed, and could easily gain more. No, it was the prospect of an interesting job that he craved, and of course his attraction to Cobb’s point man.
Cobb was dangling both out at Eames like a hook and a line, and God help him… Eames felt himself take the bait.
****
When it all went to Hell in the very first level of the Fischer job, Eames couldn’t even bring himself to be angry at Cobb for his betrayal. Not really.
After all, he knew it would happen.
The only positive he could find, while nearly being caught in the teeth of limbo and eventual insanity, was watching Arthur’s reaction: once Cobb's right-hand man got past the initial shock, he took it on the chin, like any good solider, and willingly went with Cobb to soften up Fischer in preparation for the next level.
Yet the bright sheen on Arthur’s bronze marbling - the loyal, protective glow he'd had regarding Dom since ever since Mal's death - faded. Whatever happened with this job, Eames knew that Arthur would still respect Cobb, still consider him a friend, but he was done being his point man.
That was very valuable information to have, indeed.
"You mustn't be afraid to dream a bit bigger, darling," Eames told Arthur, not much later, and watched honey and bronze aura flush in pleasure as Eames blew a sniper away.
****
What felt like days later, after fighting an endless army of Fischer's subconscious security in snowy mountain terrain, Eames got the satisfaction of not only waking up with his mind fully intact, but seeing Cobb successfully cross the border back into his home country. He left with an elderly gentleman, a bit wide-eyed, but his energies more fully at peace than Eames had ever seen from him.
He made a mental note to look Ariadne up after things cooled off, and learn from her the full story on what had happened between herself and Cobb down there.
The girl had a lovely aura of a clear, almost pristine blue. The pure hue one would see in deep-packed snow. Her aura had a similar sense of depth as Arthur's, but there were edges there as well - razor sharp, and nobody's fool. She would be a devastating extractor one day, should she stay in the field. And unlike most, she had been wholly untainted by her brief jaunt in limbo.
Eames pulled his gaze away before she could catch him staring, and walked to stand patiently in line to collect his luggage.
Afterwards, he sensed more than saw another pair of eyes on him as he joined the queue for a taxi.
"How long do you plan to stay in the country?" Arthur asked, melting from the crowd to appear by Eames' side. As if by magic.
Eames glanced sideways at him, saw the intent shining out through Arthur's aura, and carefully hid a smile. "Why? I hardly think Cobb will need my services again so soon..."
Arthur shook his head. "Cobb's out of the business."
Eames raised an eyebrow, saying nothing. He knew what Arthur wanted by logical deduction, and of course from his aura, but he needed to hear it aloud. Sometimes, a man just needed to know that he was wanted.
"I'm putting together a team," Arthur said. "I want you on it. I don't care what it takes, Eames. Name your price."
He stared at him. He hadn't quite seen that coming, and it had been quite a long time since he was last taken by surprise. "You should really work on your negotiating skills, Arthur."
"I'm the type of man who gets what he wants," Arthur replied, stepping into Eames' space, his gaze laser-focused, and for the second time Eames caught sight of the white crystal shard of his own aura in Arthur's heart. The man still carried a torch for him, after all this time.
Eames felt a rush of affection sweep over him, as intoxicating as fine wine. "Let's discuss it over dinner, yeah?"
****
They didn't make it to dinner. In hindsight, Eames knew they had let their feelings smolder too long to play at subtly -- something they'd started literally years ago.
The two of them climbed in the same taxi, and after letting Arthur give the directions to the driver, Eames leaned over to whisper something in his ear; maybe follow it up with a teasing peck on the cheek. Only Arthur turned his head, and Eames found himself kissing him like a man long starved of affection.
Arthur, if anything, was just as enthusiastic. And after they pulled back for a gasp of air, he called out a change of location to the driver: to the nearest hotel.
****
Eames preferred to keep his eyes shut during sex. Or better yet, in a darkened room. It wasn't that he was a selfish lover - he'd just rather not be privy to instant, uncensored knowledge of his partner's every random thought and feeling. There was nothing that deflated a stiffy faster than seeing that the person he was about to bed was secretly nervous or had ulterior motives, or worse, pretending.
Arthur, however, was different. The more sensual yellows and ambers, in all of their rich complexity, seemed to glow as he and Eames kissed, and divested each other of clothing. There was no fear, no ulterior motives other than the usual - he wanted to be fucked, which was more than fine with Eames.
"You're beautiful, darling, you know that?" Eames found himself blurting, arms boxing in Arthur to both sides on the mattress and sweeping his eyes over him - looking at him body and soul.
Arthur's cheeks and neck flushed with red with embarrassment, but gold in his aura brightened in obvious pleasure.
"I didn't peg you for being sappy in bed, Eames."
Grinning, Eames leaned over him. "You like it." Then he took Arthur's mouth against his, as he teased his thighs apart.
He could feel Arthur's answering smirk, and he went willing and pliant under him. Eames fingered him open with the greatest of care, delighting both in that Arthur was more than willing to verbalize what felt good, while his aura just as clearly showed him.
Eames did shut his eyes, later, as he pushed in. Arthur's body yielded to him - as sweet and warm as honey.
****
Four months later
****
Eames awoke to the sun shining in his eyes and a not entirely pleasant soreness to his lower back. Time was when he could have pulled an all night stakeout without any ill effect, but he nearing his late thirties and suspected that those days would soon be beyond him.
He stretched, limbs out like a starfish, and felt several vertebrae pop back into place. The other side of the bed was cool, and empty. Eames squinted open his eyes to see the blankets on Arthur's side pulled up to a perfectly squared pillow. Arthur usually woke first and came back from a morning run by the time Eames rolled himself out of bed.
Today, however, it was late even for Eames' standards. Arthur would be at the warehouse by now, and would be in a royal snit if Eames didn't show himself by at ten AM.
Odd, how that didn't bother him in the slightest.
Eames hadn’t been in anything close to a long term relationship since he'd acquired the Eye. He was still getting used to the particularities of arranging his life alongside someone else. It helped that, after four months, Eames still loved to look upon Arthur, and still found himself to be fascinated at what he saw.
Eames didn't rush through his morning routine, though he didn't dally either. He stopped at a local coffee shop for a bite, noted the interesting carrot-orange coloring to the baristas aura - he would have to try that out later for himself - and strode into the warehouse at exactly five minutes 'til ten.
Ariadne's desk was set up to the front, and she had her iPod headphones in as she carefully drafted out the first level. She looked up at his approach and grinned. "Watch out," she warned, "he's in a mood today."
"Is he?" Eames placed a cup of coffee for her upon her desk. He hadn't bought anything for Arthur as he had a dedicated coffee pot in the back room and by this time of day would be on his third cup. There was no need to encourage him.
"Something to do with the chemist, I think," she said, and paused to take a sip from the cup. "Mmm. Thanks."
Eames frowned, but Arthur would have called if it weren't anything he couldn't handle. Yusuf had been sadly unavailable for this job, and they had been forced to buy from local dealers. Quality came at both a price and hassle.
As if aware he was being talked about, Eames heard the door to the back room open and the distinct click of Arthur's well-made shoes upon concrete. Eames turned, a question on his lips... and froze.
Arthur walked towards them, the skin under his eyes a little bruised from the late stakeout and little sleep, his mouth pressed into an annoyed line.
The shadow swirled above his honey and bronze aura, as menacing as the hand of death itself.
*****
(tbc)