Fic: Thicker Than Blood: Part 1
Title: Thicker Than Blood
Fandom: Inception/500 Days of Summer
Pairing: Arthur/Eames, Tom/Autumn
Rating: R
Word Count: 5,400-ish (this chapter)
Summary: "My brother, Tom, has been missing for three days."
Notes: Written for this prompt on the Inception Kink meme. Edited, beta checked (thanks Starlingthefool!) and reposted.
*****
Arthur's phone rang just as they'd finished maneuvering their mark, a currently unconscious woman named Darlene Flemming, onto a lawn chair in preparation for the extraction.
Eames raised an eyebrow. "Really now, Arthur, how do you manage a generic phone ring on that? It has more buttons than a keyboard."
Ignoring him, Arthur removed his smart phone from his pocket and glanced at the caller ID. An odd expression passed quickly over his face - there and gone again before Eames could fully identify it: annoyance mixed with apprehension, perhaps.
But Arthur stuck the phone back in his pocket without comment and nodded to Yusuf, who was manning the PASIV. Mrs. Flemming may have looked like a delicate flower, but by all reports her subconscious was ultra militarized. It would take six hours under in real time, two levels deep, and five separate mazes to have any chance at cracking her.
Ariadne arranged herself in a chair on the mark's other side. She bit her lip as she slid the cannula in. Eames, who had planned out three different forges for this venture, would be partnering with her in the actual extraction. Arthur would take point as usual: they'd use his stable mind to hold the first level up while he and Ariadne went searching for secrets.
Eames' eyes locked briefly with Arthur's. The other man's lip ticked up in a small, challenging smirk: they'd planned this job out for a month together. Now it was time to see what they were made of.
If this went well - or hell, if it didn't, Eames promised himself he was going to take Arthur somewhere tropical and private. Clothing optional.
"Ready?" Yusuf asked, his hand on the PASIV's plunger.
"Whenever you are," Eames said cheerfully and leaned back. A wave of exhaustion swept him away.
*****
The job was a success, for what it was worth. Which, for Eames, meant nearly seventy-five thousand pounds.
"Not bad, all in all," he said as he relaxed back in his seat. It had been atrociously cold in that warehouse and he had woken up shivering. The rental car's heated leather seats were a godsend.
Arthur was driving - he normally did after jobs, still keyed up with adrenaline and the compulsive need to have a hand in everything. He shot Eames a disgruntled look.
"Are you kidding me? We had to go to plan C. Do you know how long it's been since I had to resort to a third option?"
"Giving you flashbacks of working with Cobb, darling?"
"No," Arthur said, "we usually didn't have a solid plan going in... except for the last one."
The Fischer job, although both knew better than to ever mention it out loud. "Yes, well it's amazing what can be done with the threat of limbo over your head," Eames said.
Arthur started to reply, but was interrupted by his ringing phone. He pulled it out of his pocket and glanced down - and there was that flash of odd expression again. This time, he answered it with a quick, "Hello?"
There was a pause and Eames watched Arthur's eyebrows knit. "No, Rachel, slow down. I was too busy to-What-" Pause. "When?"
The last word came out flat, and Eames' ears picked up. Especially when Arthur jerked their car to the side of the road amidst the sound of beeped horns and waved fingers from the other motorists. Eames waved back, nonchalantly.
Arthur paid them no mind: just stared out into the middle distance, all focus on his conversation.
"Okay," he said at long last, and swallowed. "I'll get the next flight out. It'll probably be eight to ten hours. I'll call you when I land." He hung up and stared at the phone in his palm for a few moments.
"Is there a problem?" Eames asked, when Arthur said nothing.
"That was my sister."
Eames kept his voice neutral. "You have a sister?" Information was sacred in their line of business, and even though they had known each other for years and been sleeping together for almost six months, Arthur had never spoken of his family. Then again, neither had Eames.
It was telling how shaken Arthur was that he had let something so vital slip.
Arthur nodded, and without further comment he flipped the turn signal and merged again into traffic. He took the next exit, which happened to led them away from their shared hotel room and back in the direction of the airport.
"Family emergency, I take it?" Eames wheedled.
"Maybe. I don't know." Arthur's fingers tapped a jumpy rhythm on the steering wheel, but when he spoke again his voice was quiet. "She said that Tom - he's my brother - has been missing for three days."
That took Eames by surprise. He had been expecting something more mundane: the illness of a parent, or a death. An unexpected disappearance spoke of a whole host of dark things; especially in their line of work.
"It isn't like him?"
"No." Arthur flipped the signal again to merge into the next lane - an exit-only to the airport. His fingers drummed again and he blurted, "I've had a bad feeling the last few days. I thought it was this job, until now." And he cut Eames a narrow-eyed look, as if to dare him to laugh.
Eames (most graciously in his opinion) did not. Instead, he attacked the problem from a logical standpoint; one Arthur should appreciate. "You know I'm handy if you're in need of a backup, and I do possess a certain set of skills." He paused and added lowly, "I would never betray your family, darling. Even if things between us went sour, you know there are lines which I wouldn't cross."
"I know," he replied, eyes fixed steadily to the road. "But I can't just ask you to- this isn't a job. There's no pay and you don't have to do it. We can switch off at the airport and you can take the car back to the hotel. Or a taxi-"
"You don't wish for me to come along?" Eames asked, with practiced casualness.
Arthur opened his mouth, but then stopped himself and took a deep breath. "Having you there will be... awkward."
Eames would have been stung, but he sensed something else lingering behind his words. "I'm sensing there's a story in there."
"You don't really want to meet my family, do you?" Arthur said, not answering.
"Not really," Eames admitted. "Though it's mostly because I know I will someday have to return the favor. If my family doesn't drive you away, it won't be for lack of trying on their part."
Arthur barked out a laugh. His tension eased slightly and the next glance he sent Eames' way was almost fond. "Come with me?" he asked.
"Of course," Eames replied.
*****
They didn't speak on the matter again until later, after the tickets were secured. The price was gutting, but at least the flight was nonstop and would leave in two hours.
Waiting in the terminal was a bore. Eames tried to drag Arthur to the bar to loosen up, but Arthur simply shook his head and spent the next half-hour typing intently on his smart phone.
Finally, for lack of anything to do, Eames asked. "Tell me about Tom." He had decided to treat this as if it were a job, and any foreknowledge was forewarning. Besides, there were several things not clicking here. He had hardly ever seen Arthur anxious.
Arthur's fingers slowed on the smart phone. He looked up at Eames almost reluctantly. "What do you need to know?"
"Well, what sort of man is he? Any enemies?"
"No." He shook his head. "Tom always had more friends than enemies. He..." Arthur trailed off and swallowed, looking vaguely nauseous.
Now Eames was certain something was definitely going on. "Arthur?"
"He's my twin," Arthur said, suddenly, as if it were forced out of him.
"Really? Are you identical?"
Arthur nodded once and briefly closed his eyes. "We're mirror image twins. He's left-handed and I'm right-handed." He reached up and touched a small mole on the side of his neck. "This is on the other side, for him."
"Really?" Eames said again, thoroughly delighted. His imagination was suddenly taken of a vision of two Arthurs - both dressed in their dapper suit-vests and giving Eames that smirk that Arthur only had for him: the one which was half annoyance, half amusement, and all seduction.
Then his thoughts froze as the part of his mind not attached to his dick leapt to the real problem.
"Then the question is not how many enemies Tom may have, it's how many enemies you have."
Arthur had many, many enemies. Some of them were powerful. So did Eames, when it came to that, but he didn't have some unlucky bastard walking around sharing his face.
"I told him to be careful," Arthur said, dully. "Told him never to mention me to people he doesn't trust - I think he and Rachel think I'm some sort of secret service agent."
So his siblings were unaware of dream sharing as well. Eames leaned back in his chair. "That does... rather complicate things."
"You don't think I've thought about that?" Arthur snapped.
Eames held up his hands. "I'm asking because I need to know."
But the anger seemed to drain from Arthur almost at once. He rubbed at his eyes. "Sorry," he muttered, and Eames was reminded that they had just got off a grueling job. The nearly seven hour flight ahead of them was not going to be fun.
Arthur suddenly stood. "I need a drink."
They both did.
*****
As Arthur always insisted on contingency plans in case a job went bad, they both had their luggage pre-packed in the car. There was no need to call Yusuf or Ariadne to pick up their things from the hotel. Arthur carried with him the PASIV device at all times, which he chose to carry-on instead of check.
The flight was long and uneventful and Arthur should have really known better than to drink anything Eames handed him as the plane was taking off. But, well, Eames had already noted he was too exhausted and anxious to be at the top of his game.
Shortly thereafter, Arthur had fallen asleep, his head resting on Eames' shoulder.
Eames smiled to himself and played with the little TV screen in seat in front of him to watch England lose sadly to France in the rugby World Cup.
Arthur woke roughly six hours later - snuffling slightly and blinking his eyes. He gave Eames an almost shy, embarrassed smile as he realized he had used him for a pillow - the smile faded away a moment later, though, when he put two and two together and picked up his water bottle.
"You asshole," he hissed.
"Don't tell me you didn't need it, Arthur," Eames replied, unrepentant.
Arthur glared at him and replaced the water bottle back in its cup and ran a hand over his hair - though not a single strand was out of place, for all he had been sleeping. "I slept on the job already," he reminded Eames, lowly.
Eames graced him with a knowing look. Dreamshared sleep was hardly the most restful and he knew for a fact that Arthur had not gotten very much actual sleep in the days leading up to their last job.
I had a bad feeling, Arthur had said in the car, and Eames wondered if that had something to do with it.
He nearly asked again about it, but at that moment the pilot's voice came over the speakers and announced they were coming in to land, and that the weather report for Los Angeles was slightly overcast with a high temperature of 85 degrees. The announcement was followed by a stomach-dropping sensation and an uncomfortable run of turbulence.
They landed, and as Eames didn't feel up to going through the extra custom's screening for international travelers, he used one of his favorite passports - a Mr. John Davis - and practiced his American accent, lightly flavored with the slow drawls of Louisiana with the woman checking over his papers.
Arthur shot him a bemused look afterwards and said, "You sound ridiculous."
"You're breaking my heart, darlin'." Eames replied, still in his southern accent, and threw an arm about Arthur's shoulders as they walked to the baggage claim. He could feel how tense the other man was - how he leaned away and not towards him. Eames dropped his arm and Arthur didn't comment.
They were just waiting for their luggage to appear on the carousel when Arthur's name was shouted from across the building. Eames saw Arthur take and release a deep breath as if to steady himself. Then he turned.
Two women were striding towards him - one was a teenager, maybe sixteen or seventeen, with shoulder length dirty-blonde hair and a confident step. Behind her was a very pretty brunette, closer to Arthur's age. Her eyes were wide and slightly startled.
Arthur smiled at the younger girl and greeted her first with a hug. "Hey Rachel... You've really grown."
Rachel grinned at him and pinched the fabric of one of his sleeves. "Thanks! Wow, these are some nice threads." Then she turned, indicating the brunette. "This is Autumn, Tom's girlfriend."
She and Arthur shook hands, though Autumn still had that slightly wide-eyed expression. "You look just like him," she said.
"I get that a lot," Arthur replied, a touch too smoothly, before gestured to Eames. "This is-"
"Charles Eames," Eames said quickly, before Arthur could make the mistake of identifying him by one of his fake passport names. He didn't know why he did it, exactly. Only that Arthur was letting him see a well guarded facet of his life, so it was only fair Eames be equally as candid. "Please, call me Eames."
He didn't look see the expression on Arthur's face, but sensed by his stillness that he was surprised. Autumn and Rachel's eyes fell to him - Rachel gave him a swift up and down as if assessing him for flaws.
"You're with Arthur?" she asked, putting a slight emphasis on the word, as if surprised. Then she grinned at her brother, not waiting for Eames' reply. "Is he working for the CIA, too?"
"I'm not in the CIA, Rachel," Arthur said, with the air of someone who's said that many times.
Rachel focused back on Eames, an intent gleam in her eyes that reminded him very much of Arthur. "So are you in the CIA - or what do they call it in England? The SAS?"
Eames put on his most charming smile. "If I told you I'd have to kill you, love."
"You," Arthur said, handing over Eames' bag from the carousel, "are not helping."
But Rachel was grinning. "Ohhh, Mom's just going to love him."
There was a story there, but Arthur did not dignify her comment with an answer. He turned to Autumn. "When did you last hear from Tom?"
She shook her head, sadness and worry darkening her eyes. "Four days ago, now. I keep trying to call his phone, but I just get his voice mail."
"The police won't do anything," Rachel added. "They made us wait forty-eight hours to file a report and then... they act like he's just skipped out of town or went on a bender somewhere. They aren't even looking!"
They wouldn't, Eames knew, other than to put out an alert for someone who matches Tom's description.
Arthur didn't seem surprised. "We'll check his apartment first. Maybe he's left something behind."
"I've already been there," Autumn said. "I have a key and let myself in, but there isn't anything."
Arthur didn't smile at her. His face had already slid into the professional mask Eames usually associated with him at his best... and his most dangerous. "My way of searching is a little more in depth."
"I told you he was CIA or something," Rachel said, smugly.
*****
Rachel offered to drive. "I have my permit now. I need the practice," but was thankfully ignored. Arthur wasn't sure he was used to this new, older version of his little sister. The last time he saw her, she had been at least four inches shorter and didn't have... breasts.
They piled into Autumn's SUV - a ninety's model, boxy looking Ford Explorer, which Autumn had to turn the key twice to get started.
Somehow Rachel had maneuvered it so that she sat with Eames in the back (to grill him, no doubt) and Arthur took the passenger's seat. He tried to keep half an ear on conversation behind him, but Eames seemed to be handling himself well. He could turn on the charm when he wanted.
Arthur still wasn't sure if bringing him here was a good idea, but he was grateful for his presence. With Eames by his side, Arthur could let himself pretend this was a job - it was less painful that way.
He caught Autumn giving him another sidelong glance, probably looking for the man she loved in him. Arthur caught her eye and smiled, briefly. She was pretty - beautiful, actually, although not his type.
"I'm in love," Tom had said to him one night, about ten months ago.
"Again?" Arthur rolled his eyes, and even though he was currently in Taipei and the phone's connection was crackly, his brother picked up on it.
"This one is different. She's the one, Arthur. I know it."
And judging by Autumn's puffy eyes and the way she couldn't stop glancing oddly at Arthur, she felt a lot for Tom as well.
"How did you two meet?" he asked.
"Job interview - we were applying at the same firm." Her chin quavered slightly as she smiled. "Neither one of us got the job, but we went out for coffee afterwards and hit it off from there. How did you meet... Eames?"
"Through work." They were on different teams, and the end result had been a lot of bullets and a client who had been willing to double-cross all of them to get the best price. Arthur, Mal, and Dom had come out of it alive and with a new contact for a talented forger. "I've known him for years, but we didn't hit it off until six months ago."
"It wasn't for my lack of trying," Eames piped up, from the back.
Autumn huffed a laugh. "You know, Tom would be talking about love and fate right about now..."
Arthur looked out the window. They had come off the freeway and were now sliding past familiar city streets, heading towards downtown. He wondered where his brother was now, and if he was in pain. "Yeah, he would," he said, his throat feeling a little thick.
*****
Tom lived in an apartment building on the outskirts of Los Angeles - one of those areas still in flux from the recession: once urban and hip, but now encroached slowly by vacant businesses and seedy nightlife.
The apartment was on the third floor. Autumn did have a key and, after unlocking the front door, stepped aside to allow them in.
Eames stepped inside and blinked several times. He had expected something close to Arthur's tastes: while he had no real permanent place, he rented out already furnished apartments with clean lines and furniture that tended towards functional and expensive.
Tom, however, seemed to be a fan of IKEA, judging from the low futons and kitschy paper-lamp set in the corner. He had an eclectic decorative style with both prints of famous buildings set in cheap frames against the wall, and tacked up band posters.
"I take it he's a fan of The Smiths?" Eames asked, counting three posters among the living room wall alone.
Arthur shot him a look. "Hey, don't knock The Smiths."
"Wouldn't dream of it, Arthur," he replied, secretly delighted he had discovered yet another gem of knowledge.
Autumn strode in after them, her face pinched and unhappy, her arms folded almost protectively around her middle. "Nothing's moved... he hasn't been back since I was here last."
The room itself was a little disorganized, but there was no evidence of a struggle. Eames moved beyond the living room, noting a couple of dirty plates still in the sink: breakfast, it looked like. On a low shelf sat a picture frame: two teenagers in caps and gown with their arms about one another's shoulders. A high school graduation? The picture was taken from at least ten feet back and Eames could not tell from the grainy photo which one was Tom and which was Arthur. Only that they seemed happy, and close.
He glanced quickly at Arthur, and observed how he took in his brother's apartment - like a stranger come to visit. Eames suddenly doubted Arthur had ever been there before.
Arthur caught him watching, and with narrowed eyes and a jerk to his chin, indicated that Eames should get back to work - just like he would with any job. Only this just wasn't any job, was it?
Eames decided he would get to the bottom of it, but now was not the time. Instead, he turned to Autumn. "Tell me about the last time you saw Tom."
"I stayed the night here," she said, looking around the room as if she could find a sign of something she could have overlooked. "He made me breakfast, said he had an interview at Genesis Global," and she added, looking to Arthur, "He didn't like his job very much at Cipher Tech because he's been there two years without a raise. He kissed me goodbye, said he would meet me for lunch if he could and... I never saw him again."
"How was he that morning?" Arthur asked, moving to examine a calendar stuck to the wall. It was a month behind with nothing written within the squares.
She shrugged. "Normal. A little excited, maybe? Genesis is a big company. Tom was really hopeful he'd land it."
"I called Genesis yesterday," Rachel piped up from where she sat cross-legged on a futon, shamelessly going through her brother's mail. "The secretary said he didn't even show up."
Someone could have made the grab for him when he was heading over to the interview, Eames thought, but did not say. He could tell by the slight slump of Arthur's shoulders, though, that he was thinking the same thing.
"Okay," Arthur said, in a long exhaled breath and looked towards Autumn. "Is your cell phone on the same plan as Tom's, or is his separate?"
"No, we share the minutes," she said, uncertainly, and removed a slim phone from her purse before handing it over to him.
Arthur wasted no time removing the battery and locating the sim card. "I might be able to find something here. Eames, the laptop is in my pack in the car. The second large pocket. Could you...?" he didn't finish, but Eames understood.
"Of course," he answered, and smiled brightly at the two mystified girls before popping out.
When he returned a couple minutes later with the laptop in hand, Arthur was sitting at the kitchen - Autumn's sim card installed within his smart phone - and typing intently on the little device.
Eames headed towards the futon. "Scoot over, love," he said to Rachel, and took the mail from her. A bank statement would be very useful - especially if Tom had withdrawn a large sum of money or used his debit card recently.
Tom Hansen, the name on the envelopes read, and Eames got a bit of a jolt as he realized he was looking at Arthur's real last name. He was so used to seeing fictitious identities that he hadn't even bothered to look.
Arthur Hansen. Eames rolled the name around experimentally in his head, and decided he liked it.
"Do you think he's still alive?" Rachel asked, quietly so that Autumn who was hovering by Arthur's shoulder, could not hear.
Her face was so serious and... so mature, somehow, for her age, that Eames decided not to humor her. "I haven't a clue," he said, honestly. "But Arthur is a genius with this sort of thing. I'm certain he can find him."
"I've been afraid to ask," she admitted. "I don't know if they can still do that freaky twin thing but," she giggled nervously, "it would really come in handy right now."
"Twin... thing?" Eames wondered, keeping his voice casual.
"Yeah, he didn't tell you?" Rachel nodded and moved closer, taking him in her confidence. "When they were little, Tom went off biking, got lost and hurt his ankle. Arthur was home sick the whole day, but knew just when it had happened and told Mom where to find him. And when they were teenagers..." she hesitated slightly, "Well, we don't have the same dad," she glanced towards the kitchen, meaning her brother and herself. "Arthur and my dad never got along, and they got into a fight. Tom knew - he was working at Burger King, and just took off in the middle of his shift to come home and stop it." She glanced over again towards the kitchen, biting her lower lip. "But I guess it doesn't happen anymore. It didn't sound like Arthur had any idea when I called him."
"I don't know about that," Eames said, and would have told her of Arthur's 'feeling' except at that moment he heard Autumn swear, loudly, and Arthur's voice, loud over hers.
"Who's Summer Finn-Chethan?"
"I told you about Summer," Rachel called to Arthur before she and Eames went to join them in the kitchen - both Rachel and Autumn had dark, unhappy expressions. "She's his ex-girlfriend, a total bitch."
Arthur glanced sharply at her. "Rachel-"
"Well she is! You weren't there."
Eames could hear layers of meaning behind those words, but before Rachel could continue, Autumn spoke up, her voice tight.
"He's been talking to Summer?"
"Uh... yeah." Arthur cleared his throat. "There were two calls placed to Tom's phone," he said, bending slightly to squint at the screen. Eames suspected he was a little short-sighted, but Arthur would never admit to any weakness. "The first was at 3:05PM the day before he disappeared. It lasted five minutes. The second..." he trailed off for a moment, "was the last call made from the phone, four days ago at 10:25AM. It hasn't been used since."
Autumn turned away abruptly, looking out the window and the darkening sky with her arms crossed. Eames felt a little sorry for her - sorry for Tom as well, if it turned out all this was because he had been holding up in some sort of love nest with an old flame.
"He told me he was going to an interview," Autumn whispered.
Rachel looked between her an Arthur, "He was," she insisted, "I called Genesis, remember? They were expecting him. Autumn... he loves you."
"Eames," Arthur said, "did you get anywhere with the bank records?"
"Not yet-"
"Give them to me." Arthur held out a hand, nearly snapping for the laptop and the bank statement in an officious kind of way that Eames hated.
He forgave him a moment later when Eames handed the papers and computer over - Arthur's hands were trembling ever so slightly. While Arthur's face was cool, a blank professional mask, he was probably a torrent of emotions inside.
"I'll make something to drink, shall I?" Eames said, getting up from the kitchen table. He let his hand fall upon Arthur's shoulder, squeezing slightly, before he headed for the cupboard to look for anything edible.
Amusingly, Tom appeared to be a fan of black teas and had a large stockpile taking up an entire cupboard. Eames couldn't get Arthur to drink anything but coffee.
"His debit card hasn't been accessed for three days," Arthur said at last, after intense typing. "The last thing he bought was a coffee at Peets."
"You are really scary sometimes, you know that?" Rachel asked, eyeing her brother. "If I gave you my math teacher's name, what could you do with it?"
Arthur only flashed a quick, tired smirk and closed his laptop.
"So, what does that mean?" Autumn asked. "He hasn't used his card in three days because he won't or he... can't?"
Rachel shrugged and spoke, echoing very close to Eames' own thoughts. "Well if I were trying to get back together with someone, we'd be going out on dates and I would be buying her stuff..." she trailed off, and her shoulders slumped as she seemed to realize this good news wasn't really good news at all. "But, I'd rather find out he was with Summer than... in trouble. Sorry, Autumn."
Autumn just shook her head, dismissing it. "It's okay."
Rachel turned to Arthur. "So what do we do now?"
Arthur visibly hesitated, his eyes seeking out Eames'. There were a number of things they could do, Eames knew. Everything from legal to downright bloody. But this was Arthur's family, his brother's life possibly in the balance. He had to be the one to call the shots.
"Summer is our best lead," Arthur said. He reopened his laptop, typed for a few moments and wrote something down - an address. "I'll go talk to her."
"Ohhh," Rachel said, happily and reached over to prod at Autumn. "I'll hold her down and you kick."
Arthur shook his head. "No, we have to do this smart. I'm going in as Tom - she would be more willing to talk to him that way. And if he's already there..." he shrugged.
"Then I'm going with you," Autumn said, abruptly.
"That's probably not wise, pet," Eames said. "We don't know what this Summer could be involved in-"
She rounded on him, eyes snapping. "He's my boyfriend. You two can play super spy agents if you want, but you're not shutting me out of this. I-I have to help."
Eames expected Arthur to argue, but he was all cool mask and closed expression. "Fine," Arthur said, shortly, and rose from his seat to walk into what looked like Tom's bedroom. The door closed carefully, but with the tension coiling around him it may as well have been a slam.
Eames busied himself boiling a pot of tea and putting the old tea-bags to soak. He heard the door open a few minutes later... and nearly burned himself when he turned to look at Arthur.
He had changed out of his clothes into some that were clearly his brother's - a dark green band T-shirt which clung a little tightly to his body. Jeans, also nicely fitted, and converse shoes. His hair was slightly wet, washed free of gel and hung loosely around his ears.
Eames's mouth went dry.
"Not bad," Autumn murmured, and Eames felt an unexpected stab of hot jealousy as she walked over to him. But it was only to tussle Arthur's hair. "He wears it messier," she explained, a little sheepish, before stepping back.
"And try to smile more," Rachel put in.
So of course, Arthur frowned at her. "You're staying here."
"No way!" she said, bristling. "He's my brother too!"
"We're only going in to talk. Eames is staying behind, as well."
Which was news to Eames. "Did it occur to you," he said, tersely, "that this could be a trap to lure you in? Those jeans fit you wonderfully Arthur, I do approve, but you can't hide a weapon with those. I will not allow you to go in unarmed."
Shock temporarily broke through Arthur's impersonal mask. "You won't allow me?" he asked, and Eames thought if he wasn't so taken aback, he would be dangerously pissed.
"Not without backup," Eames said, backpedaling only a little. "I'll wait behind in the car and watch your back. Is that fair?"
"And me," Rachel chirped.
"No," Arthur said. "Absolutely not."
Eames regarded the girl. "Can you shoot?"
"Sure," she replied, so easily it was almost certainly a lie.
"No," Arthur said, louder now, as if afraid no one was listening.
Autumn snapped. "We're wasting time. Rachel, if we let you come, do you promise to stay in the car no matter what?"
Rachel nodded vigorously and turned pleading eyes to her brother. "I promise not to get out of the car. C'mon, your boyfriend is like James Bond. I'll be fine."
Eames found himself grinning. "Oh, I do like her."
Arthur stared at each one of them in turn, and his lips pressed into a thin line as he seemed to realize he was outvoted.
"Fine. Let's just get this over with."
Part 2
Fandom: Inception/500 Days of Summer
Pairing: Arthur/Eames, Tom/Autumn
Rating: R
Word Count: 5,400-ish (this chapter)
Summary: "My brother, Tom, has been missing for three days."
Notes: Written for this prompt on the Inception Kink meme. Edited, beta checked (thanks Starlingthefool!) and reposted.
*****
Arthur's phone rang just as they'd finished maneuvering their mark, a currently unconscious woman named Darlene Flemming, onto a lawn chair in preparation for the extraction.
Eames raised an eyebrow. "Really now, Arthur, how do you manage a generic phone ring on that? It has more buttons than a keyboard."
Ignoring him, Arthur removed his smart phone from his pocket and glanced at the caller ID. An odd expression passed quickly over his face - there and gone again before Eames could fully identify it: annoyance mixed with apprehension, perhaps.
But Arthur stuck the phone back in his pocket without comment and nodded to Yusuf, who was manning the PASIV. Mrs. Flemming may have looked like a delicate flower, but by all reports her subconscious was ultra militarized. It would take six hours under in real time, two levels deep, and five separate mazes to have any chance at cracking her.
Ariadne arranged herself in a chair on the mark's other side. She bit her lip as she slid the cannula in. Eames, who had planned out three different forges for this venture, would be partnering with her in the actual extraction. Arthur would take point as usual: they'd use his stable mind to hold the first level up while he and Ariadne went searching for secrets.
Eames' eyes locked briefly with Arthur's. The other man's lip ticked up in a small, challenging smirk: they'd planned this job out for a month together. Now it was time to see what they were made of.
If this went well - or hell, if it didn't, Eames promised himself he was going to take Arthur somewhere tropical and private. Clothing optional.
"Ready?" Yusuf asked, his hand on the PASIV's plunger.
"Whenever you are," Eames said cheerfully and leaned back. A wave of exhaustion swept him away.
*****
The job was a success, for what it was worth. Which, for Eames, meant nearly seventy-five thousand pounds.
"Not bad, all in all," he said as he relaxed back in his seat. It had been atrociously cold in that warehouse and he had woken up shivering. The rental car's heated leather seats were a godsend.
Arthur was driving - he normally did after jobs, still keyed up with adrenaline and the compulsive need to have a hand in everything. He shot Eames a disgruntled look.
"Are you kidding me? We had to go to plan C. Do you know how long it's been since I had to resort to a third option?"
"Giving you flashbacks of working with Cobb, darling?"
"No," Arthur said, "we usually didn't have a solid plan going in... except for the last one."
The Fischer job, although both knew better than to ever mention it out loud. "Yes, well it's amazing what can be done with the threat of limbo over your head," Eames said.
Arthur started to reply, but was interrupted by his ringing phone. He pulled it out of his pocket and glanced down - and there was that flash of odd expression again. This time, he answered it with a quick, "Hello?"
There was a pause and Eames watched Arthur's eyebrows knit. "No, Rachel, slow down. I was too busy to-What-" Pause. "When?"
The last word came out flat, and Eames' ears picked up. Especially when Arthur jerked their car to the side of the road amidst the sound of beeped horns and waved fingers from the other motorists. Eames waved back, nonchalantly.
Arthur paid them no mind: just stared out into the middle distance, all focus on his conversation.
"Okay," he said at long last, and swallowed. "I'll get the next flight out. It'll probably be eight to ten hours. I'll call you when I land." He hung up and stared at the phone in his palm for a few moments.
"Is there a problem?" Eames asked, when Arthur said nothing.
"That was my sister."
Eames kept his voice neutral. "You have a sister?" Information was sacred in their line of business, and even though they had known each other for years and been sleeping together for almost six months, Arthur had never spoken of his family. Then again, neither had Eames.
It was telling how shaken Arthur was that he had let something so vital slip.
Arthur nodded, and without further comment he flipped the turn signal and merged again into traffic. He took the next exit, which happened to led them away from their shared hotel room and back in the direction of the airport.
"Family emergency, I take it?" Eames wheedled.
"Maybe. I don't know." Arthur's fingers tapped a jumpy rhythm on the steering wheel, but when he spoke again his voice was quiet. "She said that Tom - he's my brother - has been missing for three days."
That took Eames by surprise. He had been expecting something more mundane: the illness of a parent, or a death. An unexpected disappearance spoke of a whole host of dark things; especially in their line of work.
"It isn't like him?"
"No." Arthur flipped the signal again to merge into the next lane - an exit-only to the airport. His fingers drummed again and he blurted, "I've had a bad feeling the last few days. I thought it was this job, until now." And he cut Eames a narrow-eyed look, as if to dare him to laugh.
Eames (most graciously in his opinion) did not. Instead, he attacked the problem from a logical standpoint; one Arthur should appreciate. "You know I'm handy if you're in need of a backup, and I do possess a certain set of skills." He paused and added lowly, "I would never betray your family, darling. Even if things between us went sour, you know there are lines which I wouldn't cross."
"I know," he replied, eyes fixed steadily to the road. "But I can't just ask you to- this isn't a job. There's no pay and you don't have to do it. We can switch off at the airport and you can take the car back to the hotel. Or a taxi-"
"You don't wish for me to come along?" Eames asked, with practiced casualness.
Arthur opened his mouth, but then stopped himself and took a deep breath. "Having you there will be... awkward."
Eames would have been stung, but he sensed something else lingering behind his words. "I'm sensing there's a story in there."
"You don't really want to meet my family, do you?" Arthur said, not answering.
"Not really," Eames admitted. "Though it's mostly because I know I will someday have to return the favor. If my family doesn't drive you away, it won't be for lack of trying on their part."
Arthur barked out a laugh. His tension eased slightly and the next glance he sent Eames' way was almost fond. "Come with me?" he asked.
"Of course," Eames replied.
*****
They didn't speak on the matter again until later, after the tickets were secured. The price was gutting, but at least the flight was nonstop and would leave in two hours.
Waiting in the terminal was a bore. Eames tried to drag Arthur to the bar to loosen up, but Arthur simply shook his head and spent the next half-hour typing intently on his smart phone.
Finally, for lack of anything to do, Eames asked. "Tell me about Tom." He had decided to treat this as if it were a job, and any foreknowledge was forewarning. Besides, there were several things not clicking here. He had hardly ever seen Arthur anxious.
Arthur's fingers slowed on the smart phone. He looked up at Eames almost reluctantly. "What do you need to know?"
"Well, what sort of man is he? Any enemies?"
"No." He shook his head. "Tom always had more friends than enemies. He..." Arthur trailed off and swallowed, looking vaguely nauseous.
Now Eames was certain something was definitely going on. "Arthur?"
"He's my twin," Arthur said, suddenly, as if it were forced out of him.
"Really? Are you identical?"
Arthur nodded once and briefly closed his eyes. "We're mirror image twins. He's left-handed and I'm right-handed." He reached up and touched a small mole on the side of his neck. "This is on the other side, for him."
"Really?" Eames said again, thoroughly delighted. His imagination was suddenly taken of a vision of two Arthurs - both dressed in their dapper suit-vests and giving Eames that smirk that Arthur only had for him: the one which was half annoyance, half amusement, and all seduction.
Then his thoughts froze as the part of his mind not attached to his dick leapt to the real problem.
"Then the question is not how many enemies Tom may have, it's how many enemies you have."
Arthur had many, many enemies. Some of them were powerful. So did Eames, when it came to that, but he didn't have some unlucky bastard walking around sharing his face.
"I told him to be careful," Arthur said, dully. "Told him never to mention me to people he doesn't trust - I think he and Rachel think I'm some sort of secret service agent."
So his siblings were unaware of dream sharing as well. Eames leaned back in his chair. "That does... rather complicate things."
"You don't think I've thought about that?" Arthur snapped.
Eames held up his hands. "I'm asking because I need to know."
But the anger seemed to drain from Arthur almost at once. He rubbed at his eyes. "Sorry," he muttered, and Eames was reminded that they had just got off a grueling job. The nearly seven hour flight ahead of them was not going to be fun.
Arthur suddenly stood. "I need a drink."
They both did.
*****
As Arthur always insisted on contingency plans in case a job went bad, they both had their luggage pre-packed in the car. There was no need to call Yusuf or Ariadne to pick up their things from the hotel. Arthur carried with him the PASIV device at all times, which he chose to carry-on instead of check.
The flight was long and uneventful and Arthur should have really known better than to drink anything Eames handed him as the plane was taking off. But, well, Eames had already noted he was too exhausted and anxious to be at the top of his game.
Shortly thereafter, Arthur had fallen asleep, his head resting on Eames' shoulder.
Eames smiled to himself and played with the little TV screen in seat in front of him to watch England lose sadly to France in the rugby World Cup.
Arthur woke roughly six hours later - snuffling slightly and blinking his eyes. He gave Eames an almost shy, embarrassed smile as he realized he had used him for a pillow - the smile faded away a moment later, though, when he put two and two together and picked up his water bottle.
"You asshole," he hissed.
"Don't tell me you didn't need it, Arthur," Eames replied, unrepentant.
Arthur glared at him and replaced the water bottle back in its cup and ran a hand over his hair - though not a single strand was out of place, for all he had been sleeping. "I slept on the job already," he reminded Eames, lowly.
Eames graced him with a knowing look. Dreamshared sleep was hardly the most restful and he knew for a fact that Arthur had not gotten very much actual sleep in the days leading up to their last job.
I had a bad feeling, Arthur had said in the car, and Eames wondered if that had something to do with it.
He nearly asked again about it, but at that moment the pilot's voice came over the speakers and announced they were coming in to land, and that the weather report for Los Angeles was slightly overcast with a high temperature of 85 degrees. The announcement was followed by a stomach-dropping sensation and an uncomfortable run of turbulence.
They landed, and as Eames didn't feel up to going through the extra custom's screening for international travelers, he used one of his favorite passports - a Mr. John Davis - and practiced his American accent, lightly flavored with the slow drawls of Louisiana with the woman checking over his papers.
Arthur shot him a bemused look afterwards and said, "You sound ridiculous."
"You're breaking my heart, darlin'." Eames replied, still in his southern accent, and threw an arm about Arthur's shoulders as they walked to the baggage claim. He could feel how tense the other man was - how he leaned away and not towards him. Eames dropped his arm and Arthur didn't comment.
They were just waiting for their luggage to appear on the carousel when Arthur's name was shouted from across the building. Eames saw Arthur take and release a deep breath as if to steady himself. Then he turned.
Two women were striding towards him - one was a teenager, maybe sixteen or seventeen, with shoulder length dirty-blonde hair and a confident step. Behind her was a very pretty brunette, closer to Arthur's age. Her eyes were wide and slightly startled.
Arthur smiled at the younger girl and greeted her first with a hug. "Hey Rachel... You've really grown."
Rachel grinned at him and pinched the fabric of one of his sleeves. "Thanks! Wow, these are some nice threads." Then she turned, indicating the brunette. "This is Autumn, Tom's girlfriend."
She and Arthur shook hands, though Autumn still had that slightly wide-eyed expression. "You look just like him," she said.
"I get that a lot," Arthur replied, a touch too smoothly, before gestured to Eames. "This is-"
"Charles Eames," Eames said quickly, before Arthur could make the mistake of identifying him by one of his fake passport names. He didn't know why he did it, exactly. Only that Arthur was letting him see a well guarded facet of his life, so it was only fair Eames be equally as candid. "Please, call me Eames."
He didn't look see the expression on Arthur's face, but sensed by his stillness that he was surprised. Autumn and Rachel's eyes fell to him - Rachel gave him a swift up and down as if assessing him for flaws.
"You're with Arthur?" she asked, putting a slight emphasis on the word, as if surprised. Then she grinned at her brother, not waiting for Eames' reply. "Is he working for the CIA, too?"
"I'm not in the CIA, Rachel," Arthur said, with the air of someone who's said that many times.
Rachel focused back on Eames, an intent gleam in her eyes that reminded him very much of Arthur. "So are you in the CIA - or what do they call it in England? The SAS?"
Eames put on his most charming smile. "If I told you I'd have to kill you, love."
"You," Arthur said, handing over Eames' bag from the carousel, "are not helping."
But Rachel was grinning. "Ohhh, Mom's just going to love him."
There was a story there, but Arthur did not dignify her comment with an answer. He turned to Autumn. "When did you last hear from Tom?"
She shook her head, sadness and worry darkening her eyes. "Four days ago, now. I keep trying to call his phone, but I just get his voice mail."
"The police won't do anything," Rachel added. "They made us wait forty-eight hours to file a report and then... they act like he's just skipped out of town or went on a bender somewhere. They aren't even looking!"
They wouldn't, Eames knew, other than to put out an alert for someone who matches Tom's description.
Arthur didn't seem surprised. "We'll check his apartment first. Maybe he's left something behind."
"I've already been there," Autumn said. "I have a key and let myself in, but there isn't anything."
Arthur didn't smile at her. His face had already slid into the professional mask Eames usually associated with him at his best... and his most dangerous. "My way of searching is a little more in depth."
"I told you he was CIA or something," Rachel said, smugly.
*****
Rachel offered to drive. "I have my permit now. I need the practice," but was thankfully ignored. Arthur wasn't sure he was used to this new, older version of his little sister. The last time he saw her, she had been at least four inches shorter and didn't have... breasts.
They piled into Autumn's SUV - a ninety's model, boxy looking Ford Explorer, which Autumn had to turn the key twice to get started.
Somehow Rachel had maneuvered it so that she sat with Eames in the back (to grill him, no doubt) and Arthur took the passenger's seat. He tried to keep half an ear on conversation behind him, but Eames seemed to be handling himself well. He could turn on the charm when he wanted.
Arthur still wasn't sure if bringing him here was a good idea, but he was grateful for his presence. With Eames by his side, Arthur could let himself pretend this was a job - it was less painful that way.
He caught Autumn giving him another sidelong glance, probably looking for the man she loved in him. Arthur caught her eye and smiled, briefly. She was pretty - beautiful, actually, although not his type.
"I'm in love," Tom had said to him one night, about ten months ago.
"Again?" Arthur rolled his eyes, and even though he was currently in Taipei and the phone's connection was crackly, his brother picked up on it.
"This one is different. She's the one, Arthur. I know it."
And judging by Autumn's puffy eyes and the way she couldn't stop glancing oddly at Arthur, she felt a lot for Tom as well.
"How did you two meet?" he asked.
"Job interview - we were applying at the same firm." Her chin quavered slightly as she smiled. "Neither one of us got the job, but we went out for coffee afterwards and hit it off from there. How did you meet... Eames?"
"Through work." They were on different teams, and the end result had been a lot of bullets and a client who had been willing to double-cross all of them to get the best price. Arthur, Mal, and Dom had come out of it alive and with a new contact for a talented forger. "I've known him for years, but we didn't hit it off until six months ago."
"It wasn't for my lack of trying," Eames piped up, from the back.
Autumn huffed a laugh. "You know, Tom would be talking about love and fate right about now..."
Arthur looked out the window. They had come off the freeway and were now sliding past familiar city streets, heading towards downtown. He wondered where his brother was now, and if he was in pain. "Yeah, he would," he said, his throat feeling a little thick.
*****
Tom lived in an apartment building on the outskirts of Los Angeles - one of those areas still in flux from the recession: once urban and hip, but now encroached slowly by vacant businesses and seedy nightlife.
The apartment was on the third floor. Autumn did have a key and, after unlocking the front door, stepped aside to allow them in.
Eames stepped inside and blinked several times. He had expected something close to Arthur's tastes: while he had no real permanent place, he rented out already furnished apartments with clean lines and furniture that tended towards functional and expensive.
Tom, however, seemed to be a fan of IKEA, judging from the low futons and kitschy paper-lamp set in the corner. He had an eclectic decorative style with both prints of famous buildings set in cheap frames against the wall, and tacked up band posters.
"I take it he's a fan of The Smiths?" Eames asked, counting three posters among the living room wall alone.
Arthur shot him a look. "Hey, don't knock The Smiths."
"Wouldn't dream of it, Arthur," he replied, secretly delighted he had discovered yet another gem of knowledge.
Autumn strode in after them, her face pinched and unhappy, her arms folded almost protectively around her middle. "Nothing's moved... he hasn't been back since I was here last."
The room itself was a little disorganized, but there was no evidence of a struggle. Eames moved beyond the living room, noting a couple of dirty plates still in the sink: breakfast, it looked like. On a low shelf sat a picture frame: two teenagers in caps and gown with their arms about one another's shoulders. A high school graduation? The picture was taken from at least ten feet back and Eames could not tell from the grainy photo which one was Tom and which was Arthur. Only that they seemed happy, and close.
He glanced quickly at Arthur, and observed how he took in his brother's apartment - like a stranger come to visit. Eames suddenly doubted Arthur had ever been there before.
Arthur caught him watching, and with narrowed eyes and a jerk to his chin, indicated that Eames should get back to work - just like he would with any job. Only this just wasn't any job, was it?
Eames decided he would get to the bottom of it, but now was not the time. Instead, he turned to Autumn. "Tell me about the last time you saw Tom."
"I stayed the night here," she said, looking around the room as if she could find a sign of something she could have overlooked. "He made me breakfast, said he had an interview at Genesis Global," and she added, looking to Arthur, "He didn't like his job very much at Cipher Tech because he's been there two years without a raise. He kissed me goodbye, said he would meet me for lunch if he could and... I never saw him again."
"How was he that morning?" Arthur asked, moving to examine a calendar stuck to the wall. It was a month behind with nothing written within the squares.
She shrugged. "Normal. A little excited, maybe? Genesis is a big company. Tom was really hopeful he'd land it."
"I called Genesis yesterday," Rachel piped up from where she sat cross-legged on a futon, shamelessly going through her brother's mail. "The secretary said he didn't even show up."
Someone could have made the grab for him when he was heading over to the interview, Eames thought, but did not say. He could tell by the slight slump of Arthur's shoulders, though, that he was thinking the same thing.
"Okay," Arthur said, in a long exhaled breath and looked towards Autumn. "Is your cell phone on the same plan as Tom's, or is his separate?"
"No, we share the minutes," she said, uncertainly, and removed a slim phone from her purse before handing it over to him.
Arthur wasted no time removing the battery and locating the sim card. "I might be able to find something here. Eames, the laptop is in my pack in the car. The second large pocket. Could you...?" he didn't finish, but Eames understood.
"Of course," he answered, and smiled brightly at the two mystified girls before popping out.
When he returned a couple minutes later with the laptop in hand, Arthur was sitting at the kitchen - Autumn's sim card installed within his smart phone - and typing intently on the little device.
Eames headed towards the futon. "Scoot over, love," he said to Rachel, and took the mail from her. A bank statement would be very useful - especially if Tom had withdrawn a large sum of money or used his debit card recently.
Tom Hansen, the name on the envelopes read, and Eames got a bit of a jolt as he realized he was looking at Arthur's real last name. He was so used to seeing fictitious identities that he hadn't even bothered to look.
Arthur Hansen. Eames rolled the name around experimentally in his head, and decided he liked it.
"Do you think he's still alive?" Rachel asked, quietly so that Autumn who was hovering by Arthur's shoulder, could not hear.
Her face was so serious and... so mature, somehow, for her age, that Eames decided not to humor her. "I haven't a clue," he said, honestly. "But Arthur is a genius with this sort of thing. I'm certain he can find him."
"I've been afraid to ask," she admitted. "I don't know if they can still do that freaky twin thing but," she giggled nervously, "it would really come in handy right now."
"Twin... thing?" Eames wondered, keeping his voice casual.
"Yeah, he didn't tell you?" Rachel nodded and moved closer, taking him in her confidence. "When they were little, Tom went off biking, got lost and hurt his ankle. Arthur was home sick the whole day, but knew just when it had happened and told Mom where to find him. And when they were teenagers..." she hesitated slightly, "Well, we don't have the same dad," she glanced towards the kitchen, meaning her brother and herself. "Arthur and my dad never got along, and they got into a fight. Tom knew - he was working at Burger King, and just took off in the middle of his shift to come home and stop it." She glanced over again towards the kitchen, biting her lower lip. "But I guess it doesn't happen anymore. It didn't sound like Arthur had any idea when I called him."
"I don't know about that," Eames said, and would have told her of Arthur's 'feeling' except at that moment he heard Autumn swear, loudly, and Arthur's voice, loud over hers.
"Who's Summer Finn-Chethan?"
"I told you about Summer," Rachel called to Arthur before she and Eames went to join them in the kitchen - both Rachel and Autumn had dark, unhappy expressions. "She's his ex-girlfriend, a total bitch."
Arthur glanced sharply at her. "Rachel-"
"Well she is! You weren't there."
Eames could hear layers of meaning behind those words, but before Rachel could continue, Autumn spoke up, her voice tight.
"He's been talking to Summer?"
"Uh... yeah." Arthur cleared his throat. "There were two calls placed to Tom's phone," he said, bending slightly to squint at the screen. Eames suspected he was a little short-sighted, but Arthur would never admit to any weakness. "The first was at 3:05PM the day before he disappeared. It lasted five minutes. The second..." he trailed off for a moment, "was the last call made from the phone, four days ago at 10:25AM. It hasn't been used since."
Autumn turned away abruptly, looking out the window and the darkening sky with her arms crossed. Eames felt a little sorry for her - sorry for Tom as well, if it turned out all this was because he had been holding up in some sort of love nest with an old flame.
"He told me he was going to an interview," Autumn whispered.
Rachel looked between her an Arthur, "He was," she insisted, "I called Genesis, remember? They were expecting him. Autumn... he loves you."
"Eames," Arthur said, "did you get anywhere with the bank records?"
"Not yet-"
"Give them to me." Arthur held out a hand, nearly snapping for the laptop and the bank statement in an officious kind of way that Eames hated.
He forgave him a moment later when Eames handed the papers and computer over - Arthur's hands were trembling ever so slightly. While Arthur's face was cool, a blank professional mask, he was probably a torrent of emotions inside.
"I'll make something to drink, shall I?" Eames said, getting up from the kitchen table. He let his hand fall upon Arthur's shoulder, squeezing slightly, before he headed for the cupboard to look for anything edible.
Amusingly, Tom appeared to be a fan of black teas and had a large stockpile taking up an entire cupboard. Eames couldn't get Arthur to drink anything but coffee.
"His debit card hasn't been accessed for three days," Arthur said at last, after intense typing. "The last thing he bought was a coffee at Peets."
"You are really scary sometimes, you know that?" Rachel asked, eyeing her brother. "If I gave you my math teacher's name, what could you do with it?"
Arthur only flashed a quick, tired smirk and closed his laptop.
"So, what does that mean?" Autumn asked. "He hasn't used his card in three days because he won't or he... can't?"
Rachel shrugged and spoke, echoing very close to Eames' own thoughts. "Well if I were trying to get back together with someone, we'd be going out on dates and I would be buying her stuff..." she trailed off, and her shoulders slumped as she seemed to realize this good news wasn't really good news at all. "But, I'd rather find out he was with Summer than... in trouble. Sorry, Autumn."
Autumn just shook her head, dismissing it. "It's okay."
Rachel turned to Arthur. "So what do we do now?"
Arthur visibly hesitated, his eyes seeking out Eames'. There were a number of things they could do, Eames knew. Everything from legal to downright bloody. But this was Arthur's family, his brother's life possibly in the balance. He had to be the one to call the shots.
"Summer is our best lead," Arthur said. He reopened his laptop, typed for a few moments and wrote something down - an address. "I'll go talk to her."
"Ohhh," Rachel said, happily and reached over to prod at Autumn. "I'll hold her down and you kick."
Arthur shook his head. "No, we have to do this smart. I'm going in as Tom - she would be more willing to talk to him that way. And if he's already there..." he shrugged.
"Then I'm going with you," Autumn said, abruptly.
"That's probably not wise, pet," Eames said. "We don't know what this Summer could be involved in-"
She rounded on him, eyes snapping. "He's my boyfriend. You two can play super spy agents if you want, but you're not shutting me out of this. I-I have to help."
Eames expected Arthur to argue, but he was all cool mask and closed expression. "Fine," Arthur said, shortly, and rose from his seat to walk into what looked like Tom's bedroom. The door closed carefully, but with the tension coiling around him it may as well have been a slam.
Eames busied himself boiling a pot of tea and putting the old tea-bags to soak. He heard the door open a few minutes later... and nearly burned himself when he turned to look at Arthur.
He had changed out of his clothes into some that were clearly his brother's - a dark green band T-shirt which clung a little tightly to his body. Jeans, also nicely fitted, and converse shoes. His hair was slightly wet, washed free of gel and hung loosely around his ears.
Eames's mouth went dry.
"Not bad," Autumn murmured, and Eames felt an unexpected stab of hot jealousy as she walked over to him. But it was only to tussle Arthur's hair. "He wears it messier," she explained, a little sheepish, before stepping back.
"And try to smile more," Rachel put in.
So of course, Arthur frowned at her. "You're staying here."
"No way!" she said, bristling. "He's my brother too!"
"We're only going in to talk. Eames is staying behind, as well."
Which was news to Eames. "Did it occur to you," he said, tersely, "that this could be a trap to lure you in? Those jeans fit you wonderfully Arthur, I do approve, but you can't hide a weapon with those. I will not allow you to go in unarmed."
Shock temporarily broke through Arthur's impersonal mask. "You won't allow me?" he asked, and Eames thought if he wasn't so taken aback, he would be dangerously pissed.
"Not without backup," Eames said, backpedaling only a little. "I'll wait behind in the car and watch your back. Is that fair?"
"And me," Rachel chirped.
"No," Arthur said. "Absolutely not."
Eames regarded the girl. "Can you shoot?"
"Sure," she replied, so easily it was almost certainly a lie.
"No," Arthur said, louder now, as if afraid no one was listening.
Autumn snapped. "We're wasting time. Rachel, if we let you come, do you promise to stay in the car no matter what?"
Rachel nodded vigorously and turned pleading eyes to her brother. "I promise not to get out of the car. C'mon, your boyfriend is like James Bond. I'll be fine."
Eames found himself grinning. "Oh, I do like her."
Arthur stared at each one of them in turn, and his lips pressed into a thin line as he seemed to realize he was outvoted.
"Fine. Let's just get this over with."
Part 2