inception fic: arthur/eames: nothing to hide
Rating: PG
Word Count: 503
Warnings: Mild silliness; pop music.
Author's Note: My only excuse is it was a Big '80s Weekend on B98.5.
Nothing to Hide
The mark's room was on the thirtieth floor. Eames got on at two, and just as planned, the elevator stopped at five, opening to a faintly smiling Arthur, elegance personified as always, in a three-piece suit with his sleeves rolled up and his jacket over his arm.
As there was an older couple in the elevator with Eames, they ignored each other. The couple exited a floor later, and they were alone.
Eames tried to recall if he had ever actually been alone with Arthur. Surely he would have remembered if he had. So, no.
Arthur smelled very faintly of rum. It wouldn't have been noticeable had Eames not been so close. He could smell his cologne, too.
In the mirrored surface of the door, Arthur was slightly flushed, but there was no sway in his stance to indicate he had had too much at the bar earlier that evening, before their team had split up.
"Take On Me" faded out over the Muzak system. It was replaced by an opening pulse Eames recognized, and he was about to ask Arthur to confirm what it was just to make conversation before he realized the man was quietly singing along, almost a whisper. "I made it through the wilderness...."
Eames glanced over at him. Arthur had his hands in his trouser pockets and was swaying just slightly now, moving his head in time, eyes closed.
"Somehow I made it through...."
Eames raised a brow.
"Didn't know how lost I was until I found you."
Eames turned just slightly and stared fixedly at Arthur's reflection.
"I was beat... incomplete... I'd been had... I was sad and blue but you made me feel... yeah, you made me feel... shiny and new. Like a virgin."
Eames cleared his throat.
"Touched for the very first time."
Eames looked up at the strip of lights above the doors. They were only at 15. How was that possible?
An older gentleman, who appeared to be a staff member, got on at the nineteenth floor; Eames looked at the corner and Arthur quieted, as if he'd become engrossed in just listening to the song. That was, until he murmured, almost inaudibly, "You're so fine, and you're mine. I'll be yours 'til the end of time," and Eames concentrated on slowing his breath and looking less flushed.
The staff member exited at floor twenty-five, looking totally uninterested in them whatsoever.
Arthur quietly sang "Feels so good inside," leaning on the back wall of the elevator now, tapping his fingers in time on its mirrored surface.
There was a chime that barely registered in Eames' mind, and the doors opened. Thirtieth floor, and a long silent hallway. Eames gestured for Arthur to step out first, and adjusted himself as discreetly as possible, but the man turned just in time to catch it, and grinned at him knowingly, that infuriatingly smug tilt to his chin, a sparkle in his dark eyes as he asked in a murmur,
"Would it have been worse if it had been 'Like a Prayer'?"
Word Count: 503
Warnings: Mild silliness; pop music.
Author's Note: My only excuse is it was a Big '80s Weekend on B98.5.
Nothing to Hide
The mark's room was on the thirtieth floor. Eames got on at two, and just as planned, the elevator stopped at five, opening to a faintly smiling Arthur, elegance personified as always, in a three-piece suit with his sleeves rolled up and his jacket over his arm.
As there was an older couple in the elevator with Eames, they ignored each other. The couple exited a floor later, and they were alone.
Eames tried to recall if he had ever actually been alone with Arthur. Surely he would have remembered if he had. So, no.
Arthur smelled very faintly of rum. It wouldn't have been noticeable had Eames not been so close. He could smell his cologne, too.
In the mirrored surface of the door, Arthur was slightly flushed, but there was no sway in his stance to indicate he had had too much at the bar earlier that evening, before their team had split up.
"Take On Me" faded out over the Muzak system. It was replaced by an opening pulse Eames recognized, and he was about to ask Arthur to confirm what it was just to make conversation before he realized the man was quietly singing along, almost a whisper. "I made it through the wilderness...."
Eames glanced over at him. Arthur had his hands in his trouser pockets and was swaying just slightly now, moving his head in time, eyes closed.
"Somehow I made it through...."
Eames raised a brow.
"Didn't know how lost I was until I found you."
Eames turned just slightly and stared fixedly at Arthur's reflection.
"I was beat... incomplete... I'd been had... I was sad and blue but you made me feel... yeah, you made me feel... shiny and new. Like a virgin."
Eames cleared his throat.
"Touched for the very first time."
Eames looked up at the strip of lights above the doors. They were only at 15. How was that possible?
An older gentleman, who appeared to be a staff member, got on at the nineteenth floor; Eames looked at the corner and Arthur quieted, as if he'd become engrossed in just listening to the song. That was, until he murmured, almost inaudibly, "You're so fine, and you're mine. I'll be yours 'til the end of time," and Eames concentrated on slowing his breath and looking less flushed.
The staff member exited at floor twenty-five, looking totally uninterested in them whatsoever.
Arthur quietly sang "Feels so good inside," leaning on the back wall of the elevator now, tapping his fingers in time on its mirrored surface.
There was a chime that barely registered in Eames' mind, and the doors opened. Thirtieth floor, and a long silent hallway. Eames gestured for Arthur to step out first, and adjusted himself as discreetly as possible, but the man turned just in time to catch it, and grinned at him knowingly, that infuriatingly smug tilt to his chin, a sparkle in his dark eyes as he asked in a murmur,
"Would it have been worse if it had been 'Like a Prayer'?"