Think of the kids
Title: Think of the kids
Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Genre: Fluff, the UST-kind
Beta: None. You'be been warned dutifully.
Summary: Pedro is their Ariadne-esque extractor
Notes: Drabble dump #3257. This doesn't have a point. Much like all of my fics recently. :D
Pedro knows an unresolved sexual tension when he sees one. He married his best friend of twenty-seven years; he wrote the damn book about sexual frustration, damn right.
That’s why two hours into their first day of working in this job and he sees Eames casually walks to Arthur’s workspace and the two of them start quietly discussing the key locations where Eames will trail the mark, Pedro has to turn away from the white board and nudge their architect in the shoulder.
“What’s up with them?”
Cobb blinks, seemingly confused at first, then follows Pedro’s line of vision. Cobb stares at the two for few seconds, face blank.
“I don’t know. I don’t honestly know. I don’t want to know.” He says eventually, as he bites down a sigh.
Pedro makes a face when Eames wordlessly grabs one of the files Arthur was previously reading, rolls it and swats a dirt from Arthur’s shoulder with what probably is the rolled up biography of the mark’s business partner. From where they are across the warehouse, Arthur looks flushed; now if it’s from either annoyance or something else is beyond Pedro.
Pedro blinks, “Wow. How long do they know each other?”
“Six years? Seven?” Cobb says automatically then he pauses. “Why are we even discussing this? I have three levels to figure out. I wasn’t aware our extractor is this invested to workplace gossip.” He says, words drained out.
“How can you work with this level of… frustration in the air? I think by the end of this day, I’ll die of suffocation.” Pedro says, face solemn and deliberately ignoring Cobb’s disapproval.
“I fail to see why this conversation is conducive to the success of this job.” Cobb says, turning his back to Pedro and going back to the beginning of his scale model of downtown Chicago.
“Well,” Pedro starts, “if that two will get over whatever issues they have and just hook up already, I bet that will be conducive to the success of every job they'll have in the future.”
“And my wife will probably finally rest in peace.” Cobb mutters from where he is crouching below the table, busy sifting through the different cuts of card stocks.
Pedro looks at Cobb, brows raised, intrigued. Cobb sighs, “Nevermind.”
***
Later that afternoon, when their emergency back-up field chemist finally arrives and it turns out he’s Arthur lab partner back in eight-grade chemistry and the two had a mini-reunion of some sort, Eames announces he’ll go out for a bit to smoke and storms out of the warehouse, silently fuming.
Arthur, blissfully unaware of what just has transpired, invites the chemist for a drink.
Pedro looks at Cobb meaningfully. Cobb shakes his head. “Don’t even think about it.” He whispers.
“I’m telling you, I have three happily-married couples under my metaphorical match-making championship belt.” Pedro whispers back, smugly.
“Famous last words.” Cobb says as he walks back to his workspace.
END
Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Genre: Fluff, the UST-kind
Beta: None. You'be been warned dutifully.
Summary: Pedro is their Ariadne-esque extractor
Notes: Drabble dump #3257. This doesn't have a point. Much like all of my fics recently. :D
Pedro knows an unresolved sexual tension when he sees one. He married his best friend of twenty-seven years; he wrote the damn book about sexual frustration, damn right.
That’s why two hours into their first day of working in this job and he sees Eames casually walks to Arthur’s workspace and the two of them start quietly discussing the key locations where Eames will trail the mark, Pedro has to turn away from the white board and nudge their architect in the shoulder.
“What’s up with them?”
Cobb blinks, seemingly confused at first, then follows Pedro’s line of vision. Cobb stares at the two for few seconds, face blank.
“I don’t know. I don’t honestly know. I don’t want to know.” He says eventually, as he bites down a sigh.
Pedro makes a face when Eames wordlessly grabs one of the files Arthur was previously reading, rolls it and swats a dirt from Arthur’s shoulder with what probably is the rolled up biography of the mark’s business partner. From where they are across the warehouse, Arthur looks flushed; now if it’s from either annoyance or something else is beyond Pedro.
Pedro blinks, “Wow. How long do they know each other?”
“Six years? Seven?” Cobb says automatically then he pauses. “Why are we even discussing this? I have three levels to figure out. I wasn’t aware our extractor is this invested to workplace gossip.” He says, words drained out.
“How can you work with this level of… frustration in the air? I think by the end of this day, I’ll die of suffocation.” Pedro says, face solemn and deliberately ignoring Cobb’s disapproval.
“I fail to see why this conversation is conducive to the success of this job.” Cobb says, turning his back to Pedro and going back to the beginning of his scale model of downtown Chicago.
“Well,” Pedro starts, “if that two will get over whatever issues they have and just hook up already, I bet that will be conducive to the success of every job they'll have in the future.”
“And my wife will probably finally rest in peace.” Cobb mutters from where he is crouching below the table, busy sifting through the different cuts of card stocks.
Pedro looks at Cobb, brows raised, intrigued. Cobb sighs, “Nevermind.”
***
Later that afternoon, when their emergency back-up field chemist finally arrives and it turns out he’s Arthur lab partner back in eight-grade chemistry and the two had a mini-reunion of some sort, Eames announces he’ll go out for a bit to smoke and storms out of the warehouse, silently fuming.
Arthur, blissfully unaware of what just has transpired, invites the chemist for a drink.
Pedro looks at Cobb meaningfully. Cobb shakes his head. “Don’t even think about it.” He whispers.
“I’m telling you, I have three happily-married couples under my metaphorical match-making championship belt.” Pedro whispers back, smugly.
“Famous last words.” Cobb says as he walks back to his workspace.
END