And Every 365th Day, There Shall Be A Cupcake (Inception)
Title: And Every 365th Day, There Shall Be A Cupcake
Author: kick_back_80s
Pairings/Characters: Eames/Arthur, Cobb, Ariadne, Yusuf
Word Count: 1247
Rating: PG13, probably. I couldn't quite write the sex scene.
Disclaimer: I in no way, shape or form own Inception
A/N: Written for this prompt on inception_kink. It started out as something much closer to the prompt (and like most things, didn't end up quite like I was expecting it to, so I hope it's at least something like what the prompter wanted), and I also decided to try something a bit different from how I normally write. So, concrit is greatly appreciated.
The thing that probably annoyed Arthur the most about Eames was that when he chose to do his job, he’s actually really damn good. Next on the list would be the flirting. Although, Eames’ seniority at the company was probably going to jump to the top in about... five minutes.
[Of course, that’s more the middle of the story, but the office hierarchy was in a bit of turmoil at the moment, so a little jumping around was to be expected.]
--
The whole mess started nine years ago, when Arthur was just finishing up getting his Bachelors and was rather jobless. But then, what are friends for, if not to get their unemployed, fresh out of college peers a, well, job?
At least all Arthur had to do was promise Cobb he’d make it around for dinner a few times a year. Not much of a hardship, considering his wife was a rather fantastic cook.
The hardship part started the second Cobb had said “And this is Eames, he’ll be the one training you. Eames, meet Arthur.”
The smirk that accompanied the “It’ll be a pleasure, darling,” was only the beginning of a truly monstrous, never-ending headache.
--
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Arthur said, coffee cup dangerously close to being crushed and spilling on his hand.
Ariadne shrugged. “He has been here, like, twelve million years.”
Yusuf tried to hide an aborted laugh behind his hand. “If you’re going to use hyperbole, Ari, then you might as well have said a trillion.”
Arthur frowned. “Thirteen. He’s only been here thirteen years.”
He didn’t notice the odd looks Ariadne and Yusuf gave him.
--
“And how is my favorite workaholic today?” Eames asked, leaning again Arthur’s cubicle wall.
Arthur rolled his eyes. “If you actually did your job, then I wouldn’t have to work so hard.”
“But then you’d be absolutely bored, and we can’t have that.” Eames’ smile was rather attractive, if Arthur ever really let himself think about things like that.
Arthur sighed. “So your absolute lack of work ethic is actually some devious plot to, what, give me a purpose in life or something?”
“Well, I’m pretty sure I overheard dear Ariadne mass ordering your nameplate for the employee of the month plaque a few days ago so...” The eyebrow waggle that accompanied the smile was absolutely not slightly endearing, Arthur told himself. “I’d say my ‘devious plot’ is working.”
Suddenly, Yusuf popped up on the other side of the cubicle. “I want to put Nash’s stapler in jell-o.”
“How very sitcom,” Arthur muttered, turning back to his work as Eames and Yusuf wandered off discussing which flavor would be best.
--
“You’re trying to make my life absolutely difficult, aren’t you,” Arthur said, catching Cobb after the Very Tumultuous Announcement.
“I don’t see how,” Cobb replied.
“He’s going to be absolutely insufferable now!”
Cobb squinted at Arthur. “You say that every week. I’m having a hard time taking you seriously.”
Arthur let out an indignant noise.
“This isn’t the precursor to another meeting with HR, is it?” Cobb asked. “Because last time was traumatizing enough.”
Arthur stared at him. “I’ll let you know.” Cobb’s sigh in response wasn’t all that encouraging.
--
“You know,” Eames began.
Arthur cut him off. “I don’t, nor do I want to and I really have to get this report done so can’t you bother someone else?”
“I could,” Eames agreed. “But I’d rather not.”
Arthur turned away from his computer to analyze Eames (definitely analyze, not silently oogle, honest!). “What do I know, Mr. Eames.”
“Why, that it’s our anniversary, of course!” Eames’ accompanying grin was rather annoying.
“We’re not together,” Arthur said.
Eames’ sigh seemed a little over dramatic, in context. “No, darling, as much as I’ve tried, we’re not. However! One year ago today, fate smiled upon us and--”
Arthur cut him off again. “I’ve only been here a year? It feels like so much longer, with having to put up with you constantly.”
“Would now be a bad time for the cake?” Ariadne asked, Yusuf standing behind her holding said cake. “I only ask because, really, it looks delicious, and my break starts in five minutes and I’d much rather be eating cake while on the clock.”
At least it was only a hand that hit Eames’ forehead.
--
“So I have an office now,” Eames said. Arthur nodded in agreement. “With a door,” Eames continued. “That locks.” Arthur raised an eyebrow. “And a wall, with no windows. Although, the view of the tops of other office buildings out the window I do have is rather boring.”
“I’m pretty sure this could definitely be taken as sexual harassment,” Arthur replied. And, yes, Eames was going to be insufferable now that he’d been promoted.
“Arthur.”
“Cobb doesn’t want another traumatizing HR visit,” Arthur said.
“Next week, then?” Eames asked.
Arthur smiled. “Next week.”
--
There wasn’t any cake for years two, three or four. Eames did give him a cupcake for each of them, though (vanilla, chocolate and red velvet, in order).
For the fifth year, Eames invited Arthur out for drinks, Ariadne and Yusuf joining them (there was a note stuck on Arthur’s monitor the next morning apologizing for the lack of a cupcake, but would dinner be sufficient to make up for it?).
Somewhere in between the fifth and sixth year, Arthur and Eames kissed for the first time.
The sixth year, they both went to the Cobb’s for dinner (there was a cupcake--snickerdoodle-- waiting on the counter with breakfast the next morning).
In between the sixth and seventh year, they subjected Cobb to the traumatizing HR meeting.
The seventh year’s cupcake came with an envelope. It was also homemade, for once, if the slightly lopsided top and uneven icing was anything to go by (and, as sweet as that was, the key in the envelope was possibly even sweeter).
A few months later, when Arthur’s lease was about to run out, he didn’t bother renewing.
The eighth year, they both took the day off to give themselves a long weekend. There was no cupcake, but plenty of icing. Arthur didn’t really mind, considering.
(The ninth year, well, that hasn’t quite happened yet.)
--
“I’m pretty sure we could both get fired for this,” Arthur said, locking the door behind him.
Eames glanced up from solitaire game he had dealt out on the desk. “Do you really think they would fire the employee of the month for, what is it, thirty six in a row now?”
Arthur smiled. “Forty five, but who’s counting?” He pushed Eames’ cards out of the way and sat down on the desk where they used to be.
“Hmm. I was in the middle of that, you know,” Eames said, hand running up Arthur’s inner thigh.
“Oh? Well, I can think of something much more interesting for you to be in the middle of,” Arthur replied, leaning down to kiss Eames and undo the top few buttons of his shirt.
Eames moved his hand up to unfasten Arthur’s belt, and then the button on his pants. “I suppose you have a point,” he conceded. And then, neither of them really bothered talking much after that.
[Later, when Arthur got back from his break, there was a chocolate chip cupcake waiting next to his keyboard.]
Author: kick_back_80s
Pairings/Characters: Eames/Arthur, Cobb, Ariadne, Yusuf
Word Count: 1247
Rating: PG13, probably. I couldn't quite write the sex scene.
Disclaimer: I in no way, shape or form own Inception
A/N: Written for this prompt on inception_kink. It started out as something much closer to the prompt (and like most things, didn't end up quite like I was expecting it to, so I hope it's at least something like what the prompter wanted), and I also decided to try something a bit different from how I normally write. So, concrit is greatly appreciated.
The thing that probably annoyed Arthur the most about Eames was that when he chose to do his job, he’s actually really damn good. Next on the list would be the flirting. Although, Eames’ seniority at the company was probably going to jump to the top in about... five minutes.
[Of course, that’s more the middle of the story, but the office hierarchy was in a bit of turmoil at the moment, so a little jumping around was to be expected.]
--
The whole mess started nine years ago, when Arthur was just finishing up getting his Bachelors and was rather jobless. But then, what are friends for, if not to get their unemployed, fresh out of college peers a, well, job?
At least all Arthur had to do was promise Cobb he’d make it around for dinner a few times a year. Not much of a hardship, considering his wife was a rather fantastic cook.
The hardship part started the second Cobb had said “And this is Eames, he’ll be the one training you. Eames, meet Arthur.”
The smirk that accompanied the “It’ll be a pleasure, darling,” was only the beginning of a truly monstrous, never-ending headache.
--
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Arthur said, coffee cup dangerously close to being crushed and spilling on his hand.
Ariadne shrugged. “He has been here, like, twelve million years.”
Yusuf tried to hide an aborted laugh behind his hand. “If you’re going to use hyperbole, Ari, then you might as well have said a trillion.”
Arthur frowned. “Thirteen. He’s only been here thirteen years.”
He didn’t notice the odd looks Ariadne and Yusuf gave him.
--
“And how is my favorite workaholic today?” Eames asked, leaning again Arthur’s cubicle wall.
Arthur rolled his eyes. “If you actually did your job, then I wouldn’t have to work so hard.”
“But then you’d be absolutely bored, and we can’t have that.” Eames’ smile was rather attractive, if Arthur ever really let himself think about things like that.
Arthur sighed. “So your absolute lack of work ethic is actually some devious plot to, what, give me a purpose in life or something?”
“Well, I’m pretty sure I overheard dear Ariadne mass ordering your nameplate for the employee of the month plaque a few days ago so...” The eyebrow waggle that accompanied the smile was absolutely not slightly endearing, Arthur told himself. “I’d say my ‘devious plot’ is working.”
Suddenly, Yusuf popped up on the other side of the cubicle. “I want to put Nash’s stapler in jell-o.”
“How very sitcom,” Arthur muttered, turning back to his work as Eames and Yusuf wandered off discussing which flavor would be best.
--
“You’re trying to make my life absolutely difficult, aren’t you,” Arthur said, catching Cobb after the Very Tumultuous Announcement.
“I don’t see how,” Cobb replied.
“He’s going to be absolutely insufferable now!”
Cobb squinted at Arthur. “You say that every week. I’m having a hard time taking you seriously.”
Arthur let out an indignant noise.
“This isn’t the precursor to another meeting with HR, is it?” Cobb asked. “Because last time was traumatizing enough.”
Arthur stared at him. “I’ll let you know.” Cobb’s sigh in response wasn’t all that encouraging.
--
“You know,” Eames began.
Arthur cut him off. “I don’t, nor do I want to and I really have to get this report done so can’t you bother someone else?”
“I could,” Eames agreed. “But I’d rather not.”
Arthur turned away from his computer to analyze Eames (definitely analyze, not silently oogle, honest!). “What do I know, Mr. Eames.”
“Why, that it’s our anniversary, of course!” Eames’ accompanying grin was rather annoying.
“We’re not together,” Arthur said.
Eames’ sigh seemed a little over dramatic, in context. “No, darling, as much as I’ve tried, we’re not. However! One year ago today, fate smiled upon us and--”
Arthur cut him off again. “I’ve only been here a year? It feels like so much longer, with having to put up with you constantly.”
“Would now be a bad time for the cake?” Ariadne asked, Yusuf standing behind her holding said cake. “I only ask because, really, it looks delicious, and my break starts in five minutes and I’d much rather be eating cake while on the clock.”
At least it was only a hand that hit Eames’ forehead.
--
“So I have an office now,” Eames said. Arthur nodded in agreement. “With a door,” Eames continued. “That locks.” Arthur raised an eyebrow. “And a wall, with no windows. Although, the view of the tops of other office buildings out the window I do have is rather boring.”
“I’m pretty sure this could definitely be taken as sexual harassment,” Arthur replied. And, yes, Eames was going to be insufferable now that he’d been promoted.
“Arthur.”
“Cobb doesn’t want another traumatizing HR visit,” Arthur said.
“Next week, then?” Eames asked.
Arthur smiled. “Next week.”
--
There wasn’t any cake for years two, three or four. Eames did give him a cupcake for each of them, though (vanilla, chocolate and red velvet, in order).
For the fifth year, Eames invited Arthur out for drinks, Ariadne and Yusuf joining them (there was a note stuck on Arthur’s monitor the next morning apologizing for the lack of a cupcake, but would dinner be sufficient to make up for it?).
Somewhere in between the fifth and sixth year, Arthur and Eames kissed for the first time.
The sixth year, they both went to the Cobb’s for dinner (there was a cupcake--snickerdoodle-- waiting on the counter with breakfast the next morning).
In between the sixth and seventh year, they subjected Cobb to the traumatizing HR meeting.
The seventh year’s cupcake came with an envelope. It was also homemade, for once, if the slightly lopsided top and uneven icing was anything to go by (and, as sweet as that was, the key in the envelope was possibly even sweeter).
A few months later, when Arthur’s lease was about to run out, he didn’t bother renewing.
The eighth year, they both took the day off to give themselves a long weekend. There was no cupcake, but plenty of icing. Arthur didn’t really mind, considering.
(The ninth year, well, that hasn’t quite happened yet.)
--
“I’m pretty sure we could both get fired for this,” Arthur said, locking the door behind him.
Eames glanced up from solitaire game he had dealt out on the desk. “Do you really think they would fire the employee of the month for, what is it, thirty six in a row now?”
Arthur smiled. “Forty five, but who’s counting?” He pushed Eames’ cards out of the way and sat down on the desk where they used to be.
“Hmm. I was in the middle of that, you know,” Eames said, hand running up Arthur’s inner thigh.
“Oh? Well, I can think of something much more interesting for you to be in the middle of,” Arthur replied, leaning down to kiss Eames and undo the top few buttons of his shirt.
Eames moved his hand up to unfasten Arthur’s belt, and then the button on his pants. “I suppose you have a point,” he conceded. And then, neither of them really bothered talking much after that.
[Later, when Arthur got back from his break, there was a chocolate chip cupcake waiting next to his keyboard.]