Shaking like a leaf
Title: Shaking like a leaf
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 4,231
Pairing: Arthur/Ariadne
Summary: Prompt from inception_kink here. It turned out longer and different then I had originally asked for. But it still stays true to the quote I wanted.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the prompt. Yes I answered my own prompt, because one, I didn't think it was going to be answered and two, I wanted to take a crack at writing these two. So this is my first inception ficcy. Be gentle (:
They had a damn fight. A damn, stupid, pointless fight. Actually, a fight was defined by both sides yelling. In this case, it was just Ariadne. She was angry; Arthur found that apparent, though he hadn’t honestly thought she was going to pick a fight with him over this. He had done this a million times over for her; why was she having such an issue this time around?
They had just woken up from a shared dream with Eames and Yusuf, the mark they were after had been trained; much like Fischer had been on the Inception job. Arthur had prepared this time, they knew they’d be ambushed as soon as they entered the dream, and yet they were still down on manpower and the projections had cornered them in a bathroom of a restaurant before they even had a plan to go after the mark and question him.
“I had it under control, Arthur!” She ripped the IV from her arm, ignoring looks of Eames and Yusuf and the sting the needle had left in her skin.
Arthur just sighed, cool and collected as he carefully withdrew the needle from his arm and started packing up the IVs from everyone. It pissed her off even more that he wasn’t answering her.
She saw Eames gathering his coat and fixing his collar as he approached her. “Try not to tear him apart, darling. We all had a part in not being prepared for this.”
Ariadne just fixed him with a cold glare and with raised eyebrows; the forger nodded and backed off, heading towards the chemist’s desk. He waited for Yusuf to grab his chemicals and his suitcase before gently lifting the mark from the lawn chair they had settled him in.
“Drive him back to the hotel and put him in his room, play the “got wasted on a night out” role if anyone asks any questions.” Arthur spoke smoothly to Eames and the chemist.
Yusuf barely nodded, sending a sympathetic glance towards her as they left, letting the door slam and echo through the warehouse; emphasizing how alone Arthur and Ariadne really were.
She was shaking with anger; well, she reasoned, partly anger and partly fear. The projections had cornered her in the dream, back against a sink. They were tearing Yusuf and Eames apart; she could hear screaming even though her heart had been pounding in her ears. She had raised her gun, ready to shoot the projection that was cornering her, when it grabbed her hair, pulling her to the floor. Before she had time to react, it kicked her square in the chest, knocking the wind out of her.
She was gasping for breath, seeing stars before her eyes. And damn it, beside all the hours of training Arthur had put her through for this, instead of remembering how to counter attack, all she could think about was why some projections got their rocks off slowing torturing them to death instead of a quick gunshot.
She looked up at the projection and could see others gather beside her, ready to inflict pain like they had on Eames and Yusuf, but before she could even reach her gun she woke up in the warehouse, a gnawing ghostly pain on the side of her head. She rubbed the spot and looked at Arthur; and he confirmed her thoughts with a slight glance before she had time to ask. He had shot her; killing her and jolting her from the dream before she could stand up against the projections. Before she could go down like Eames and Yusuf had; fists and guns swinging. Something to be proud of; not cocky about, but something she could feel inside. Something she could proudly say, in her head, that she had taken control of the situation and gone down swinging. That for the first time she didn’t need Eames or goddamn Arthur saving her.
“Did you hear me?” She asked him, approaching his tailored suited form as he turned and rolled his sleeves back down, buttoning them.
“I can hear you.” He said. He was too damn calm for her liking. “You’re screaming and I’m not deaf.”
She bit the inside of her cheek so hard. “I had it covered. I was ready to grab my rifle and-”
“And what?” He asked, interrupting. He kept his voice completely passive, even though she knew he cared. Cared too much and that’s why he was in this mess. He cared too much for her and didn’t want her to suffer like Eames and Yusuf had. “They were closing in; they got the gun away from Eames in five seconds flat and could have easily done the same thing to you. I was just trying-”
“I know what you were trying to do!” Ariadne’s face was bright red. “Just for once I’d like to gain control by myself…”
“You call that gaining control?” He shut the PASIV briefcase shut and looked at her, sliding his coat on. “I trained you for weeks on how to counter attacks, on how not to hesitate-” She tried interrupting him, an anger sparking within her as he sounded disappointed but he cut her off, continuing, his voice an octave higher. “How to shoot your damn gun with aiming under pressure!”
She swallowed as he swore. Arthur barely swore at her; he barely swore at all unless he was under stress on a case, like if something wasn’t going according to plan. She remembered she could hear his string of colorful profanities when they had rushed into the bathroom, running from the projections and trying to seal the door shut.
Ariadne clenched her fists. “I was going to. I was getting ready to; I just needed a minute-”
“Pretty sure the projections weren’t going to give you a few moments to collect yourself before they beat the hell out of you.” His language was so loose, something she noticed that happened when he was around her.
He lost his lines, his straight pressed pants and shirt persona. His professional language blurred at the edges. He was calmer and she couldn’t figure out whether it was because they weren’t on a case at the moment or if it was her. Did her presence make the point man…relax?
Arthur’s stare was so cold, unwelcoming, and angry that she had to look away. She bit her lip and swallowed thickly. She wasn’t sure if he was angrier at himself for not training her better or her for yelling at him for no apparent reason.
“I don’t need you to protect me, Arthur.” She said; though she wasn’t aware she had actually spoke until Arthur grabbed the PASIV and walked past her, his arm brushing hers as he left the warehouse.
The warehouse door slammed closed and her body shook with tremors; the remnants of fear washing from her system.
***********
She’d hurt him. The point man had a bullet proof vest on at all times, under all those layers, beneath his perfect skin. Shielding his emotions like a wall and blocking other’s emotions from penetrating. Sleek and unfeeling; like metal. But this time was different. She hurt him. She could tell when she tried calling; he wouldn’t answer her. Not even after her calling five times.
He usually picked up; no matter how late. One time she had called because her oven was fritzing. And she had no idea how to fix it. And she knew Arthur hadn’t followed in the footsteps of a long family line of oven repairing; but she called him anyways. And he came. Ten minutes after she called.
“You couldn’t have called a repair man? They have those you know.” He had said, cocking his head and smiling slightly as he rolled up his sleeves and slid his slender arms in the oven to check some odds and ends.
Oh, she knew that. But she hadn’t called a repair guy had she? She called Arthur because she could depend on him. To come no matter what. Even it was an oven that he knew nothing about.
Ariadne sighed and looked at her oven from across her apartment; she rose her cup of tea to her lower lip and blew softly at the broiling liquid. She took one sip; the liquid sliding down her throat, burning her esophagus. She barely flinched. Thunder crackled outside, lightening illuminating the entire apartment as the beginning of a storm brewed. She stood in a rush, grabbing whatever jacket her hands hit first and ran out of her apartment.
She had to dig out the bullet she had sent towards his bullet proof vest not only an hour ago. It had obviously left an indent in him, or maybe even went all the way through. There had to be a reason why he wasn’t answering her calls when he did all the other times.
And in all actuality, as he opened his apartment door on the fifth floor, there had been a reason. There he stood before her, in striped pajama pants and a soft, cotton, white t-shirt. He was barefoot and drying his hair with a towel; he had been in the shower.
She shivered; the sky had opened up on her on the way there, pouring oceans of water on her, soaking her all the way through her layers. Unfortunately, in her rush to leave, she had grabbed a sweater instead of her rain jacket. Rain dripped from her hair onto the floor and she swallowed, feeling slow tremors rush through her body as the air kicked on in the hallway.
“Ariadne…” He frowned as he looked over her huddled form in the hallway before him.
“You…were in the shower.” That’s why he hadn’t gotten her calls.
He nodded, setting the towel on the chair beside the door. He ran a hand through his hair, slicking it back. But without the gel, it jutted out in some places and made him look breathtakingly normal. Not a point man, all lines, tailored suits, immaculate hair and bullet proof vest in place…but a person. Her friend even…
“Yes, which explains why I’m wet but…is there a particular reason why you’re soaking wet in front of my doorway?” The ear crushing thunder seemed to answer his question for him but Arthur still looked at her like he was expecting some sort of clarification.
“You didn’t answer your phone.”
His face was passive. “No cell service in the shower.”
She swallowed, he was still angry with her. Not anger; she corrected herself. She had seen him angry, he was still hurt. “Can I come in?”
He raised his head a fraction, looking her over, his arm came up to rest on the door, he seemed to have leaned on it just a moment; it was the most relaxed she’d ever saw him.
Arthur moved away from the door and to the side, inviting her in without actually giving her an invitation. She slowly walked through the doorway; he closed the door a moment later.
He reappeared in front of her as she looked through his apartment. It was a lot bigger than hers; Eames had once compared her apartment to a hole in a wall. He couldn’t understand why she had kept the same apartment even after the cash flow from Saito on the Inception job. To be honest it was something she couldn’t explain either. But her hole in the wall apartment felt like home to her. And she could use the money for other things, food and new sketch books. Things she wanted to buy before for school or personal reasons but didn’t have the budget for.
She had only been here twice. Once when he had forgotten something and needed to pick it up and twice when she had dropped something off for him from Eames. She hadn’t asked what it was and he hadn’t told her. She had gotten a good glimpse of his place from him opening the door to answer her knocks. Nothing was different from what she could remember. Spotless and everything in its place. It basically held everything her apartment had: a table, chairs, a couch, a T.V.-but everything had an expensive touch to it. He had remodeled the old apartment into this new one with Satio’s money; a story she had earned one day when they went out to lunch.
“I’m s-sorry.” She sputtered out.
Ariadne didn’t know if she was stuttering because she was upset or because she was freezing. Didn’t know if those were raindrops off her cheeks from her wet, matted hair or if it was actual tears. She swallowed and came to realize she didn’t know and wasn’t sure of a lot of things with him.
Arthur visibly grew tense. And he looked bothered; perturbed even. What? Was her hair dripping onto his 900 dollar carpet or something?
“You’re shaking like a leaf,” He said softly; something tender. Something protective and warm.
He gently took her arm and led her through his apartment, down the hall and into his bedroom. Ariadne could feel the warm pads of his fingers soak through her wet sweater and melt into her skin. She shivered and finally realized she was shaking; a bit violently from the rain and cold.
She snuck a glance at his bed as they turned the corner and went into the bathroom. It was made up of course, comforter without a crease in it and pillows stacked up where they should have been. It looked like an advertisement for a bedroom catalogue.
Arthur sat her on the closed toilet of his pristine bathroom, so white and clean it made her eyes hurt.
“Here.” He said softly, handing her a towel. He disappeared into the bedroom and reappeared a moment later with a black t-shirt and some cotton pajama bottoms. “Change.” He said simply, agitated.
She gaped at him a moment, her mouth open. Was he…was he annoyed with her? “Are you…”
“You could have caught cold you know.” He said, like he was scolding a child. “You do own a rain jacket don’t you? An umbrella?” Same condescending tone he’d had when he told her she could have called an oven repair guy, but this time he wasn’t teasing…or even smiling.
“I left in a hurry.” She said quietly, that same anger creeping up and constricting her stomach. “Can you leave or turn around or something so I can cc-change?” As much as she tried keeping her teeth from chattering, they still did, slapping her speech into something comical.
Arthur’s lips ghosted with a smile, a smirk even, at her speech and nodded, turning to leave and closing the door.
Ariadne had reached one conclusion: the man was infuriating.
***********
She came out five minutes later, wandering back into Arthur’s living room. The shirt she had on was too big, it enveloped her small form like a dress and she had to roll his pants three times at the waist line so they wouldn’t drag when she walked.
She could see him in the kitchen from the bedroom doorway; it was just past the living room. Even though Arthur’s dry clothes had brought her some sort of comfort, not to mention they smelled amazingly of him, she was still fighting her chattering teeth. She went to sit on the couch as he came into the living room, setting a cup of hot tea, on a coaster, on the wooden coffee table.
He sighed at her appearance, not pleased with the fact she was still shaking and pulled a blanket from its resting spot on top of the couch. He leaned forward and wrapped her shivering form in the blanket. He pulled it around her shoulders and tucked it under her arms.
Ariadne licked her lips and couldn’t help but watch the muscles of his arm tense and relax as he moved them to put the blanket around her. Having him so close to her was making her shiver; so she couldn’t tell if she was actually cold or just nervous.
As he pulled back, Arthur’s hand rose to her forehead and hairline, it took several seconds for Ariadne to get her breathing into check as his warm, gentle pads of his fingers ran along her damp hair, tucking some behind her ear.
“Did you dry your hair with the towel I gave you?” He asked, his voice not much above a whisper. The end of it was drowned out by the thunder outside. His hand withdrew from her hair.
She nodded, soundlessly. He, apparently, was also not pleased that her wet head was against his couch…what fabric was it made out of anyways? She looked at the pattern as Arthur leaned his back against the couch, comfortably next to her but not touching.
They sat like that in silence, listening to the rain pound the windows and pavement and rooftops. He wasn’t pleased over a lot of things, she had come to realize as she worked with him more and more. But that fact made Ariadne’s small crush on him grow into something more every day. He wasn’t pleased very easily, so making him smile drew something up inside her that she couldn’t explain. Something the term “butterflies in her stomach” couldn’t even come close to describing.
“I’m sorry.” She spoke softly, but it was loud against the silence between them. He turned his head to look at her, not saying anything but his eyes acknowledging her to continue. “I didn’t mean what I said the warehouse.”
He smirked softly, not loud enough to sound ignorant. Arthur reached across the table and picked up the cup of tea. He gently brought the cup over to her and she untangled her arms from the blanket, taking the cup. She took a small sip.
“I get…angry and kind of indignant when I’m scared.”
Arthur flashed her a small smile. “Kind of?” He sounded amused. “I thought you were going to throw something at me.”
Ariadne beamed for at least three seconds as she lowered the mug. “There was a moment where I thought about it.”
Arthur nodded, smile slowly fading, seriousness engulfing his form once again, making his shoulders tense up into a straight line along his back.
“You’re not a child, Ariadne. With your training you’re more experienced then I was at your age.” She swallowed after he said that; she felt awkward for a moment because he was rarely so bare, so exposed with information about himself.
“You may have just said those things because you were angry, but it doesn’t mean that the words weren’t partly true. You don’t need me to protect you…you’re just as strong on your own.”
Ariadne honestly didn’t know if she should have felt offended or justified. Offended because, in all actuality, it was nice thinking that Arthur wanted to protect her for personal reasons or professional ones. Justified because…wasn’t this what the fight had been about? Wanting to protect herself without help?
She took a sip of tea from the cup and set it back down on the coaster, not sure of what to say, so saying nothing was the better choice. She felt him shift beside her and his fingers ran through her hair again.
“You’re almost dry.” It felt like an invitation to leave.
Ariadne looked at him and bit the inside of her cheek. “Stopped shivering.”
He smiled something warm and genuine and it lit up the dimples on his cheeks. He let his hand run through her hair until it was resting on the back of the couch, against the nape of her neck. She shivered as the sudden sensation of the palm of his hand resting against her skin. The only word she could use to describe it was ‘electricity’. Static electricity maybe; something that surged through her entire body and made the hair on her arms stand up and goosebumps cover her legs.
Arthur let out a breathy laugh. “Maybe not.”
He leaned towards her and took both of her arms which were covered by the blanket in his large hands. He started rubbing up and down, creating friction and warmth. She had the urge to tell him that she wasn’t cold. That the shivering was something else…something from the warmth she felt curling in her belly. But decided against it. After all, she was enjoying the attention his hands were giving her.
“I do need you to protect me. Sometimes.” She decided, looking up at his brown eyes.
His hands hesitated on her for a millisecond but then continued their warming duties. Ariadne looked down at his hands and then back up at his face, the lightening shined through the windows and lit up his facial features for a second.
After an achingly silent few minutes, she spoke again. “Like when…Eames tries to take me to a bar after work, I really need you to protect me then.” His mouth quirked into a small smile and she smiled easily, happy that he was listening. “He gets shit faced more times than not and then tries to get me to table dance.”
Arthur pulled his hands back and looked at her. “Is that all I’m good for?”
She grinned; their usual, easy, relaxing banter was back in place. “No. When I decide to order from that Chinese place that makes me sick…protect me then. No matter how much I’m in love with the eggrolls.”
He chuckled, a sound Ariadne wanted to bottle and release later. “Those eggrolls don’t even smell appetizing.” He wrinkled his nose in distaste. “Not to mention there’s always some sort of…liquid dripping from them. They are food poisoning waiting to happen.”
She rolled her eyes. “When I decide to sleep in a chair at the warehouse with wheels on it, don’t let me.” Protect her then.
She cringed at the thought of the last time that had happened. She had moved in her sleep and the chair had moved with her, sending her from leaning her upper half on the desk to toppling to the floor.
“Least I didn’t need to give you a kick that time…you gave yourself one.”
His smile was all too sweet. Why couldn’t he be this way all the time? Ariadne swore being a point man meant no smiling…not even a little.
“Yeah, along with a huge bruise to my tail bone.”
“So,” he turned towards her on the couch. “This is all I’m good for, then? Are you going to make a list?”
“He jokes.” She laughed softly, amused. He seemed amused too, his smile growing a bit wider at her laugh.
Arthur leaned closer to her until his forehead rested against hers. She tried to take this in all at once: his skin against hers; warm and soft, his breath against her face; minty and fresh, his scent rolling off his clothes; cotton, soap and just purely him. Her brain needed to catch up with her heart, which was now pounding miles a minute.
“I…I hurt you.” She said softly, feeling her breath push off his face and hit back against her mouth. He said nothing to this; typical Arthur shining through this new, soft and open one. “Offended you.”
She tried again and that bullet proof vest he cared so much about was inching back over his chest, she could see it. Feel it. She swallowed and considered shutting up, wanted the moment where his skin was on hers to stay. But she was too far in to backpedal.
“You were right. I don’t need you to protect me…but I want you to.”
His lips met hers as she finished her sentence. The inception kiss had been similar; it was chaste and warm, soft and inviting. And yet this kiss was so different. She leaned closer to him; projections weren’t closing in on them this time. His lips were unbelievably soft and she felt the weight of the bishop in her pocket, stabbing her thigh. This was real. Something the dream kiss wasn’t.
When his lips parted and pulled her deeper into this kiss, she shivered again and felt his lips smile against hers.
Arthur pulled back a few minutes later and cradled her cheek. “Storms getting bad outside…maybe you should stay.”
The storm was clearing up. The thunder was gone, lightening following in its footsteps. The rain was no longer pounding on the windows, on the roof, on the pavement. It was barely drizzling. Both knew this.
“You’re right.” She nodded, agreeing, leaning even closer, his hand snaking around the back of her neck as the other arm wound around her blanket covered back. “I could catch cold if I go out there again.”
Arthur let out another laugh; he had laughed more times in this ten minute period than she had ever heard while spending time with him after the Fischer job. And that had been duration of three months.
“We wouldn’t want that.” He said, softly and his voice held all this promise. All this… she couldn’t describe it without using the word warmth.
She met his lips again and he stroked her back with one hand and her neck with the other.
She was shaking like a leaf for a whole bunch of different reasons now; and none of them had to do with being cold or afraid.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 4,231
Pairing: Arthur/Ariadne
Summary: Prompt from inception_kink here. It turned out longer and different then I had originally asked for. But it still stays true to the quote I wanted.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the prompt. Yes I answered my own prompt, because one, I didn't think it was going to be answered and two, I wanted to take a crack at writing these two. So this is my first inception ficcy. Be gentle (:
They had a damn fight. A damn, stupid, pointless fight. Actually, a fight was defined by both sides yelling. In this case, it was just Ariadne. She was angry; Arthur found that apparent, though he hadn’t honestly thought she was going to pick a fight with him over this. He had done this a million times over for her; why was she having such an issue this time around?
They had just woken up from a shared dream with Eames and Yusuf, the mark they were after had been trained; much like Fischer had been on the Inception job. Arthur had prepared this time, they knew they’d be ambushed as soon as they entered the dream, and yet they were still down on manpower and the projections had cornered them in a bathroom of a restaurant before they even had a plan to go after the mark and question him.
“I had it under control, Arthur!” She ripped the IV from her arm, ignoring looks of Eames and Yusuf and the sting the needle had left in her skin.
Arthur just sighed, cool and collected as he carefully withdrew the needle from his arm and started packing up the IVs from everyone. It pissed her off even more that he wasn’t answering her.
She saw Eames gathering his coat and fixing his collar as he approached her. “Try not to tear him apart, darling. We all had a part in not being prepared for this.”
Ariadne just fixed him with a cold glare and with raised eyebrows; the forger nodded and backed off, heading towards the chemist’s desk. He waited for Yusuf to grab his chemicals and his suitcase before gently lifting the mark from the lawn chair they had settled him in.
“Drive him back to the hotel and put him in his room, play the “got wasted on a night out” role if anyone asks any questions.” Arthur spoke smoothly to Eames and the chemist.
Yusuf barely nodded, sending a sympathetic glance towards her as they left, letting the door slam and echo through the warehouse; emphasizing how alone Arthur and Ariadne really were.
She was shaking with anger; well, she reasoned, partly anger and partly fear. The projections had cornered her in the dream, back against a sink. They were tearing Yusuf and Eames apart; she could hear screaming even though her heart had been pounding in her ears. She had raised her gun, ready to shoot the projection that was cornering her, when it grabbed her hair, pulling her to the floor. Before she had time to react, it kicked her square in the chest, knocking the wind out of her.
She was gasping for breath, seeing stars before her eyes. And damn it, beside all the hours of training Arthur had put her through for this, instead of remembering how to counter attack, all she could think about was why some projections got their rocks off slowing torturing them to death instead of a quick gunshot.
She looked up at the projection and could see others gather beside her, ready to inflict pain like they had on Eames and Yusuf, but before she could even reach her gun she woke up in the warehouse, a gnawing ghostly pain on the side of her head. She rubbed the spot and looked at Arthur; and he confirmed her thoughts with a slight glance before she had time to ask. He had shot her; killing her and jolting her from the dream before she could stand up against the projections. Before she could go down like Eames and Yusuf had; fists and guns swinging. Something to be proud of; not cocky about, but something she could feel inside. Something she could proudly say, in her head, that she had taken control of the situation and gone down swinging. That for the first time she didn’t need Eames or goddamn Arthur saving her.
“Did you hear me?” She asked him, approaching his tailored suited form as he turned and rolled his sleeves back down, buttoning them.
“I can hear you.” He said. He was too damn calm for her liking. “You’re screaming and I’m not deaf.”
She bit the inside of her cheek so hard. “I had it covered. I was ready to grab my rifle and-”
“And what?” He asked, interrupting. He kept his voice completely passive, even though she knew he cared. Cared too much and that’s why he was in this mess. He cared too much for her and didn’t want her to suffer like Eames and Yusuf had. “They were closing in; they got the gun away from Eames in five seconds flat and could have easily done the same thing to you. I was just trying-”
“I know what you were trying to do!” Ariadne’s face was bright red. “Just for once I’d like to gain control by myself…”
“You call that gaining control?” He shut the PASIV briefcase shut and looked at her, sliding his coat on. “I trained you for weeks on how to counter attacks, on how not to hesitate-” She tried interrupting him, an anger sparking within her as he sounded disappointed but he cut her off, continuing, his voice an octave higher. “How to shoot your damn gun with aiming under pressure!”
She swallowed as he swore. Arthur barely swore at her; he barely swore at all unless he was under stress on a case, like if something wasn’t going according to plan. She remembered she could hear his string of colorful profanities when they had rushed into the bathroom, running from the projections and trying to seal the door shut.
Ariadne clenched her fists. “I was going to. I was getting ready to; I just needed a minute-”
“Pretty sure the projections weren’t going to give you a few moments to collect yourself before they beat the hell out of you.” His language was so loose, something she noticed that happened when he was around her.
He lost his lines, his straight pressed pants and shirt persona. His professional language blurred at the edges. He was calmer and she couldn’t figure out whether it was because they weren’t on a case at the moment or if it was her. Did her presence make the point man…relax?
Arthur’s stare was so cold, unwelcoming, and angry that she had to look away. She bit her lip and swallowed thickly. She wasn’t sure if he was angrier at himself for not training her better or her for yelling at him for no apparent reason.
“I don’t need you to protect me, Arthur.” She said; though she wasn’t aware she had actually spoke until Arthur grabbed the PASIV and walked past her, his arm brushing hers as he left the warehouse.
The warehouse door slammed closed and her body shook with tremors; the remnants of fear washing from her system.
***********
She’d hurt him. The point man had a bullet proof vest on at all times, under all those layers, beneath his perfect skin. Shielding his emotions like a wall and blocking other’s emotions from penetrating. Sleek and unfeeling; like metal. But this time was different. She hurt him. She could tell when she tried calling; he wouldn’t answer her. Not even after her calling five times.
He usually picked up; no matter how late. One time she had called because her oven was fritzing. And she had no idea how to fix it. And she knew Arthur hadn’t followed in the footsteps of a long family line of oven repairing; but she called him anyways. And he came. Ten minutes after she called.
“You couldn’t have called a repair man? They have those you know.” He had said, cocking his head and smiling slightly as he rolled up his sleeves and slid his slender arms in the oven to check some odds and ends.
Oh, she knew that. But she hadn’t called a repair guy had she? She called Arthur because she could depend on him. To come no matter what. Even it was an oven that he knew nothing about.
Ariadne sighed and looked at her oven from across her apartment; she rose her cup of tea to her lower lip and blew softly at the broiling liquid. She took one sip; the liquid sliding down her throat, burning her esophagus. She barely flinched. Thunder crackled outside, lightening illuminating the entire apartment as the beginning of a storm brewed. She stood in a rush, grabbing whatever jacket her hands hit first and ran out of her apartment.
She had to dig out the bullet she had sent towards his bullet proof vest not only an hour ago. It had obviously left an indent in him, or maybe even went all the way through. There had to be a reason why he wasn’t answering her calls when he did all the other times.
And in all actuality, as he opened his apartment door on the fifth floor, there had been a reason. There he stood before her, in striped pajama pants and a soft, cotton, white t-shirt. He was barefoot and drying his hair with a towel; he had been in the shower.
She shivered; the sky had opened up on her on the way there, pouring oceans of water on her, soaking her all the way through her layers. Unfortunately, in her rush to leave, she had grabbed a sweater instead of her rain jacket. Rain dripped from her hair onto the floor and she swallowed, feeling slow tremors rush through her body as the air kicked on in the hallway.
“Ariadne…” He frowned as he looked over her huddled form in the hallway before him.
“You…were in the shower.” That’s why he hadn’t gotten her calls.
He nodded, setting the towel on the chair beside the door. He ran a hand through his hair, slicking it back. But without the gel, it jutted out in some places and made him look breathtakingly normal. Not a point man, all lines, tailored suits, immaculate hair and bullet proof vest in place…but a person. Her friend even…
“Yes, which explains why I’m wet but…is there a particular reason why you’re soaking wet in front of my doorway?” The ear crushing thunder seemed to answer his question for him but Arthur still looked at her like he was expecting some sort of clarification.
“You didn’t answer your phone.”
His face was passive. “No cell service in the shower.”
She swallowed, he was still angry with her. Not anger; she corrected herself. She had seen him angry, he was still hurt. “Can I come in?”
He raised his head a fraction, looking her over, his arm came up to rest on the door, he seemed to have leaned on it just a moment; it was the most relaxed she’d ever saw him.
Arthur moved away from the door and to the side, inviting her in without actually giving her an invitation. She slowly walked through the doorway; he closed the door a moment later.
He reappeared in front of her as she looked through his apartment. It was a lot bigger than hers; Eames had once compared her apartment to a hole in a wall. He couldn’t understand why she had kept the same apartment even after the cash flow from Saito on the Inception job. To be honest it was something she couldn’t explain either. But her hole in the wall apartment felt like home to her. And she could use the money for other things, food and new sketch books. Things she wanted to buy before for school or personal reasons but didn’t have the budget for.
She had only been here twice. Once when he had forgotten something and needed to pick it up and twice when she had dropped something off for him from Eames. She hadn’t asked what it was and he hadn’t told her. She had gotten a good glimpse of his place from him opening the door to answer her knocks. Nothing was different from what she could remember. Spotless and everything in its place. It basically held everything her apartment had: a table, chairs, a couch, a T.V.-but everything had an expensive touch to it. He had remodeled the old apartment into this new one with Satio’s money; a story she had earned one day when they went out to lunch.
“I’m s-sorry.” She sputtered out.
Ariadne didn’t know if she was stuttering because she was upset or because she was freezing. Didn’t know if those were raindrops off her cheeks from her wet, matted hair or if it was actual tears. She swallowed and came to realize she didn’t know and wasn’t sure of a lot of things with him.
Arthur visibly grew tense. And he looked bothered; perturbed even. What? Was her hair dripping onto his 900 dollar carpet or something?
“You’re shaking like a leaf,” He said softly; something tender. Something protective and warm.
He gently took her arm and led her through his apartment, down the hall and into his bedroom. Ariadne could feel the warm pads of his fingers soak through her wet sweater and melt into her skin. She shivered and finally realized she was shaking; a bit violently from the rain and cold.
She snuck a glance at his bed as they turned the corner and went into the bathroom. It was made up of course, comforter without a crease in it and pillows stacked up where they should have been. It looked like an advertisement for a bedroom catalogue.
Arthur sat her on the closed toilet of his pristine bathroom, so white and clean it made her eyes hurt.
“Here.” He said softly, handing her a towel. He disappeared into the bedroom and reappeared a moment later with a black t-shirt and some cotton pajama bottoms. “Change.” He said simply, agitated.
She gaped at him a moment, her mouth open. Was he…was he annoyed with her? “Are you…”
“You could have caught cold you know.” He said, like he was scolding a child. “You do own a rain jacket don’t you? An umbrella?” Same condescending tone he’d had when he told her she could have called an oven repair guy, but this time he wasn’t teasing…or even smiling.
“I left in a hurry.” She said quietly, that same anger creeping up and constricting her stomach. “Can you leave or turn around or something so I can cc-change?” As much as she tried keeping her teeth from chattering, they still did, slapping her speech into something comical.
Arthur’s lips ghosted with a smile, a smirk even, at her speech and nodded, turning to leave and closing the door.
Ariadne had reached one conclusion: the man was infuriating.
***********
She came out five minutes later, wandering back into Arthur’s living room. The shirt she had on was too big, it enveloped her small form like a dress and she had to roll his pants three times at the waist line so they wouldn’t drag when she walked.
She could see him in the kitchen from the bedroom doorway; it was just past the living room. Even though Arthur’s dry clothes had brought her some sort of comfort, not to mention they smelled amazingly of him, she was still fighting her chattering teeth. She went to sit on the couch as he came into the living room, setting a cup of hot tea, on a coaster, on the wooden coffee table.
He sighed at her appearance, not pleased with the fact she was still shaking and pulled a blanket from its resting spot on top of the couch. He leaned forward and wrapped her shivering form in the blanket. He pulled it around her shoulders and tucked it under her arms.
Ariadne licked her lips and couldn’t help but watch the muscles of his arm tense and relax as he moved them to put the blanket around her. Having him so close to her was making her shiver; so she couldn’t tell if she was actually cold or just nervous.
As he pulled back, Arthur’s hand rose to her forehead and hairline, it took several seconds for Ariadne to get her breathing into check as his warm, gentle pads of his fingers ran along her damp hair, tucking some behind her ear.
“Did you dry your hair with the towel I gave you?” He asked, his voice not much above a whisper. The end of it was drowned out by the thunder outside. His hand withdrew from her hair.
She nodded, soundlessly. He, apparently, was also not pleased that her wet head was against his couch…what fabric was it made out of anyways? She looked at the pattern as Arthur leaned his back against the couch, comfortably next to her but not touching.
They sat like that in silence, listening to the rain pound the windows and pavement and rooftops. He wasn’t pleased over a lot of things, she had come to realize as she worked with him more and more. But that fact made Ariadne’s small crush on him grow into something more every day. He wasn’t pleased very easily, so making him smile drew something up inside her that she couldn’t explain. Something the term “butterflies in her stomach” couldn’t even come close to describing.
“I’m sorry.” She spoke softly, but it was loud against the silence between them. He turned his head to look at her, not saying anything but his eyes acknowledging her to continue. “I didn’t mean what I said the warehouse.”
He smirked softly, not loud enough to sound ignorant. Arthur reached across the table and picked up the cup of tea. He gently brought the cup over to her and she untangled her arms from the blanket, taking the cup. She took a small sip.
“I get…angry and kind of indignant when I’m scared.”
Arthur flashed her a small smile. “Kind of?” He sounded amused. “I thought you were going to throw something at me.”
Ariadne beamed for at least three seconds as she lowered the mug. “There was a moment where I thought about it.”
Arthur nodded, smile slowly fading, seriousness engulfing his form once again, making his shoulders tense up into a straight line along his back.
“You’re not a child, Ariadne. With your training you’re more experienced then I was at your age.” She swallowed after he said that; she felt awkward for a moment because he was rarely so bare, so exposed with information about himself.
“You may have just said those things because you were angry, but it doesn’t mean that the words weren’t partly true. You don’t need me to protect you…you’re just as strong on your own.”
Ariadne honestly didn’t know if she should have felt offended or justified. Offended because, in all actuality, it was nice thinking that Arthur wanted to protect her for personal reasons or professional ones. Justified because…wasn’t this what the fight had been about? Wanting to protect herself without help?
She took a sip of tea from the cup and set it back down on the coaster, not sure of what to say, so saying nothing was the better choice. She felt him shift beside her and his fingers ran through her hair again.
“You’re almost dry.” It felt like an invitation to leave.
Ariadne looked at him and bit the inside of her cheek. “Stopped shivering.”
He smiled something warm and genuine and it lit up the dimples on his cheeks. He let his hand run through her hair until it was resting on the back of the couch, against the nape of her neck. She shivered as the sudden sensation of the palm of his hand resting against her skin. The only word she could use to describe it was ‘electricity’. Static electricity maybe; something that surged through her entire body and made the hair on her arms stand up and goosebumps cover her legs.
Arthur let out a breathy laugh. “Maybe not.”
He leaned towards her and took both of her arms which were covered by the blanket in his large hands. He started rubbing up and down, creating friction and warmth. She had the urge to tell him that she wasn’t cold. That the shivering was something else…something from the warmth she felt curling in her belly. But decided against it. After all, she was enjoying the attention his hands were giving her.
“I do need you to protect me. Sometimes.” She decided, looking up at his brown eyes.
His hands hesitated on her for a millisecond but then continued their warming duties. Ariadne looked down at his hands and then back up at his face, the lightening shined through the windows and lit up his facial features for a second.
After an achingly silent few minutes, she spoke again. “Like when…Eames tries to take me to a bar after work, I really need you to protect me then.” His mouth quirked into a small smile and she smiled easily, happy that he was listening. “He gets shit faced more times than not and then tries to get me to table dance.”
Arthur pulled his hands back and looked at her. “Is that all I’m good for?”
She grinned; their usual, easy, relaxing banter was back in place. “No. When I decide to order from that Chinese place that makes me sick…protect me then. No matter how much I’m in love with the eggrolls.”
He chuckled, a sound Ariadne wanted to bottle and release later. “Those eggrolls don’t even smell appetizing.” He wrinkled his nose in distaste. “Not to mention there’s always some sort of…liquid dripping from them. They are food poisoning waiting to happen.”
She rolled her eyes. “When I decide to sleep in a chair at the warehouse with wheels on it, don’t let me.” Protect her then.
She cringed at the thought of the last time that had happened. She had moved in her sleep and the chair had moved with her, sending her from leaning her upper half on the desk to toppling to the floor.
“Least I didn’t need to give you a kick that time…you gave yourself one.”
His smile was all too sweet. Why couldn’t he be this way all the time? Ariadne swore being a point man meant no smiling…not even a little.
“Yeah, along with a huge bruise to my tail bone.”
“So,” he turned towards her on the couch. “This is all I’m good for, then? Are you going to make a list?”
“He jokes.” She laughed softly, amused. He seemed amused too, his smile growing a bit wider at her laugh.
Arthur leaned closer to her until his forehead rested against hers. She tried to take this in all at once: his skin against hers; warm and soft, his breath against her face; minty and fresh, his scent rolling off his clothes; cotton, soap and just purely him. Her brain needed to catch up with her heart, which was now pounding miles a minute.
“I…I hurt you.” She said softly, feeling her breath push off his face and hit back against her mouth. He said nothing to this; typical Arthur shining through this new, soft and open one. “Offended you.”
She tried again and that bullet proof vest he cared so much about was inching back over his chest, she could see it. Feel it. She swallowed and considered shutting up, wanted the moment where his skin was on hers to stay. But she was too far in to backpedal.
“You were right. I don’t need you to protect me…but I want you to.”
His lips met hers as she finished her sentence. The inception kiss had been similar; it was chaste and warm, soft and inviting. And yet this kiss was so different. She leaned closer to him; projections weren’t closing in on them this time. His lips were unbelievably soft and she felt the weight of the bishop in her pocket, stabbing her thigh. This was real. Something the dream kiss wasn’t.
When his lips parted and pulled her deeper into this kiss, she shivered again and felt his lips smile against hers.
Arthur pulled back a few minutes later and cradled her cheek. “Storms getting bad outside…maybe you should stay.”
The storm was clearing up. The thunder was gone, lightening following in its footsteps. The rain was no longer pounding on the windows, on the roof, on the pavement. It was barely drizzling. Both knew this.
“You’re right.” She nodded, agreeing, leaning even closer, his hand snaking around the back of her neck as the other arm wound around her blanket covered back. “I could catch cold if I go out there again.”
Arthur let out another laugh; he had laughed more times in this ten minute period than she had ever heard while spending time with him after the Fischer job. And that had been duration of three months.
“We wouldn’t want that.” He said, softly and his voice held all this promise. All this… she couldn’t describe it without using the word warmth.
She met his lips again and he stroked her back with one hand and her neck with the other.
She was shaking like a leaf for a whole bunch of different reasons now; and none of them had to do with being cold or afraid.