drabble me.

[chibi_lurrel]

 Because sorrynotsorry is an enabler, here is a post where you can post ideas and I will try to write drabbles for them, because I am stuck on prompts that I claimed weeks ago and need some kind of kick start. :|

ps - In fifteen days I will no longer be a homeless couch surfer! Yeeeaaah!

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PART 1

[chibi_lurrel]

Arthur was never a Boy Scout, and he was growing sick of Eames insinuating it at every wrong turn they make in the most godforsaken woods he’d ever been to.

“Shouldn’t you be more prepared for this eventuality, Arthur? Isn’t that their motto? Certainly you must have learned how to read the directions from the sun and moss and whatnot, right?”

Arthur only restrained himself from slugging Eames in the jaw because with each taunt, his voice grew a little more desperate.

“I should have thought to get a satellite phone,” Arthur said as they stopped to drink some water. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m going to kill Cobb.”

It had been his bright idea for a camping trip, as their subject was an outdoorsman, and Ariadne had been very excited, and suggested a nature hike, and then there had been some goons, and some gunfire, and here they were, lost in the fucking woods and almost out of bullets.

“How d’you think they found us?” Eames asked, for probably the thousandth time.

“I don’t know, but I’m never letting Cobb plan any ‘team bonding activity’ again.”

Eames laughed a little, and sat down in the dirt. Arthur followed suit, sliding down a tree trunk and resting his head against it with his eyes closed.

“Moss, by the way, tends to grow on the north side of trees. The sun sets in the west. I could maybe get our latitude from the North Star when it gets dark.” Arthur grew up in the city dreaming of adventures like this, and spent most of his time in the library.

He glanced over at Eames, who looked suitably impressed.

“Arthur, Arthur, Arthur. Why have you been hiding all these precious skills from me! We’ve been walking for hours.”

Arthur shook his head. “So what direction did we run away from camp, then? Where do you think the nearest road is? Car?”

“How big do you think the woods here are, then?”

“The Stanislaus Forest of northern California offers over 800 miles of pristine nature,” Arthur intoned.

Eames’ shoulders sagged, and Arthur felt a little terrible.

“What’d you managed to grab with that pack?”

He swung the backpack off his back and it landed in his lap.

“Looks like a few flash lights, some condensed milk, and one sleeping bag.”

Arthur sighed. “Maybe we should just make camp here and call it a night.”