The Auction in which Saito wins everything (FILL 1/?)
Title: The Auction in which Saito wins Everything
Fandom: Inception
Warnings: Slash... and several inappropriate comments?
Genre: Humor
Summary: For this prompt at inception_kink
"THE TEAM AGREES (read: is "cajoled") INTO PARTICIPATING AT THE INTERNATIONAL EXTRACTORS' CHARITY AUCTION. UP FOR BID? THEMSELVES.
SAITO BUYS THEM ALL.
THEN HE GIVES ARTHUR TO EAMES
AND YUSEF TO ARIADNE.
HE KEEPS DOM FOR HIMSELF.
ETA: OOH, OOH! BONUS POINTS IF HE GETS INTO A BIDDING WAR WITH ROBERT :D"
Cobb didn't expect everything to end up like this when the International Extractors' Organization (very illegal, very hard to find; don't call them, they'll call you) contacted his team.
Sure, he should have been suspicious when the words "raising funds to create programs in underdeveloped countries that will teach children how to extract, since that is obviously the most lucrative field right now" came out of the organizer's mouth, but it had been a while since he's talked to the head of the organization, and the last time he remembered, it had been a male voice.
Now it's a baby's voice. Cobb wonders if he should be worried.
So now here he is, with the rest of his team, huddled behind a stage and getting ready to be auctioned off. As if it wasn't enough to degrade them like pieces of antique furniture, they had been stripped of either some or all of their normal clothing and shoved into more appealing, the wardrobe lady says, clothing. They, meaning everyone except for Arthur, of course. Nearly everyone in the room fainted or began to fan themselves when they saw Arthur and his impeccable three-piece suit.
Cobb is lucky -- he only has to change his tie. "You are older, yes," the lady says, "with experience. The suit works nicely for that, but this tie is disgusting! Shame! Shame on you! Such a boring black tie!" While Cobb is cowering away from the lady, who has finished slapping him in the face with his own tie and is now looking for a paper shredder to shred his (expensive, dammit) tie, Ariadne leans over.
"Glad you didn't wear that big grey "hide-that-potbelly" t-shirt you have***, huh?" But Cobb is the one laughing minutes later when Ariadne is shoved into a dressing room and comes out wearing a low-cut top Cobb would personally lock Philipa in a high tower forever if she ever wore.
"Shut up," Ariadne says ("So sexy, yes?" The lady insists. "You may keep your silly scarf."), “oh God, I hope most extractors aren’t creepy perverts.” Cobb doesn’t say anything, because he knows the truth would not comfort her at all.
"I-I feel violated!" Yusuf is yelling from inside another dressing room, where he is locked in with a wardrobe assistant. "Help me! Help me! You all need me, dammit! I'm the one who takes care of you all when you're sleeping!"
"Honey," the wardrobe assistant says, "I'm just trying to dress you up a bit. You look like a man who lives with a cat."
"H-How do you know about Blinky! Oh God, you're a stalker! It's finally happened!"
"Someone sounds happy," Eames says, reappearing. He, too, was shoved into a dressing room because for some strange, odd reason, he had arrived wearing a wife beater and some jeans (Arthur had nearly decapitated him). Now, he is wearing a black suit, with a bowtie ("Hugh Laurie can pull it off," his wardrobe assistant explained to him, "you're not as hot as him, not by a long shot, but you're British, so it should be okay.").
Apparently, someone with power in the organization had a fetish for men in suits. It was starting to yet anti-climactic. Yusuf stumbles out of the dressing room in, yes, a black suit (but an unbuttoned one, Cobb’s mind notes helpfully) with his wardrobe assistant trailing behind him.
“Where do you think you’re going?” The assistant asks, grabbing Yusuf’s arm. Yusuf looks confused.
“Um, don’t I have to go on with them?”
“No, sweetie,” the assistant says, “we’ve still got to get rid of that mess on your face!” Two beats pass before a look of horror begins to dawn on Yusuf’s face.
Yusuf’s scream is drowned out by the applause of the audience when, presumably, the announcer steps onto the stage. Arthur is very relieved; he was getting very uncomfortable watching people get visibly aroused in his presence, even if, unbeknownst to him, Eames was glaring at all of them and making gun motions with his hands.
“Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to the 2010 International Extractors’ Charity Auction, and thank you all very much for coming! Now remember, you all signed that liability contract before we let you in, so if you die, not our fault. Not our fault.”
Cobb hears the crowd laugh, but it's not really funny. Billy with the Ray Gun died last year, without the least bit of mention.
“If you were here last year, you remember our cause, “One World, One Dream,” and our efforts to distribute PASIV devices among those who have been robbed by their jobs, parents, significant others, of their ability to dream.”
Cobb remembers that cause. One Chinese extractor protested so vehemently against using the same slogan as the Beijing 2008 Olympics that he had to be tied down, put under, and incepted with the idea that China was so great, even its slogan were being used. Also, that imitation is the best form of flattery.
“Similarly, this year, our cause is equally laudable: to generate funds to create educational programs in order to create a new generation of extractors from children in underdeveloped countries. Together we gather here today, for a brighter future!”
The announcer’s voice rises as the crowd begins to hoot and cheer, and Cobb thinks he hears someone screaming, “let’s bring out the bitches!”
“Let’s bring out the bitches!”
“Go on, go on!” The wardrobe lady and her two assistants hiss, ushering Cobb, his team, and about ten other haggard extractors onto the stage, where they are met with, yes, hoots and cheers and random drunk babble. No one ever said all extractors were as well-adjusted as Cobb.
“Woo-hoo, I like the coconuts on that one!” One extractor in the crowd yells. Cobb sees Ariadne and the other four female extractors look scandalized, only the comment isn't directed at any of them; it’s directed at Yusuf, who is looking a lot more scandalized than Ariadne ever could, unless someone has told her she had a nice banana down there before.
“Same rules as last year,” the announcer bellows, “bid on a person, win, and he or she is yours for 24 hours on the dot! I want a good, clean bid this year! This is a reminder: no hooking people up to PASIV machines so they can’t bid! Anyone who does so will themselves be hooked into a PASIV machine and watch horrible movies from the 80’s on repeat for two hours in real life!”
One by one, the extractors are finally ushered onto stage until they all stand there, in a neat long row, across the stage.
“These are our auctionees today,” the announcer’s voice rings in the room, “take a look, mark your favorites, and remember them when they come out!”
The crowd cheers, and there are overall many indecent proposals and comments about each of them (Cobb can’t remember the last time Arthur has ever been so red before - but really, that man should not have proposed bondage and sex toys and… Cobb doesn’t even want to know what the last thing is, but it makes Eames look very interested).
Then they are herded off stage, and sit in wait, like cattle being led to the slaughterhouse.
“Our first auctionee,” the announcer says, “is a lovely young lady by the name of Ariadne!”
That’s Ariadne’s cue, and when she walks out, there is a great pandemonium.
“She’s - okay, her age is blacked out - she’s in school right now, and she’s an architect. She creates wonderful paradoxical staircases, and can make scenarios that’ll make you reach for your totem and see if you’re in a dream or reality. When she isn’t working, she’s jogging, drawing, or at a music club listening to jazz.”
Cobb, peaking out from behind a thick black curtain, feels bad for Ariadne, who is standing there awkwardly on a little raised circular platform in the middle of the stage.
“200!”
“600!”
“Fuck you - 2,000!”
“No, fuck you. 6,000!”
Well, Cobb was expecting it to reach higher prices, seeing as one job paid as much as -
“10,000!”
Now the real bidding was starting.
“20,000!”
“100,000.” Was that Saito’s voice?
“200,000.” Oh dear God, that was Robert Fischer, Jr.’s voice. What in the world were those two doing there?
“300,000.” Saito.
“500,000!” Robert.
If Fischer got a hold of Ariadne, Cobb would never forgive Saito.
“One million,” Saito says, and the audience holds its breath. It’s a leap, from half a million to a million, which in all truth, isn’t that much for those in the audience, but it’s a pretty hefty sum of money anyways.
Cobb sees Fischer contemplate his next move, before releasing his grip on his number paddle. Maybe Fischer isn’t a creepy man with a taste for college girls.
“Sold!” the announcer crows. “To number 69!” Ariadne visibly releases a breath of relief when she sees that Saito has won. Not that Saito can’t do bad things to her if he wants to, just that Ariadne has been noticing how hard Saito has been trying to get into Cobb’s pants, and Ariadne being raped/killed/etc. would potentially give Saito blue balls forever.
“You’re up next, honey - oh my God, you can’t go out like that!”
“The next auctionee we have is a chemist named Yusuf! His drugs are wide and varied - if you need it, he’s got it! He runs his own business and lives with his cat, uh, named Blinky.”
“Don’t let him go out!”
But it’s too late, and Yusuf practically dances past the wardrobe assistants onto the stage. Just as he passes out of the curtain, “Sexyback” begins to blare out of the speakers, and Yusuf boogies his way towards the circular stage. His pimp coat sways as he moves, and Cobb has to wonder how Yusuf was able to ditch his black suit for something so… purple.
“Woo-hoo!!! 1,000 for that piece of man-meat!”
"What lovely coconuts! 3,000!"
“I want a piece of that! 5,000!”
“10,000!”
Yusuf finally makes it onto the smaller stage, giving a little twirl to hop onto it. Then he strikes an Elvis Pose* (20,000! Someone yells), before striking Disco Pose** (30,000!) and holding it (100,000, someone yells).
In the end, despite the music changing to “I’m Too Sexy” during the bidding (150,000!) and Yusuf flinging his pimp coat out into the crowd (500,000!), Saito is the one who purchases Yusuf for 1.5 million, after heated bidding wars with bidders number 78 (750,000!) and 99 (1 million!). Yusuf returns to the back stage looking disappointed at the outcome.
“There was this lady,” he says miserably to them, after getting reprimanded by the wardrobe team for dressing himself up, “out there. Very 70’s. I hoped she would win.”
Ariadne pats his back consolingly.
“I even wore purple,” Yusuf sobs, “because she dressed her little cat in purple! She had a cat, Ariadne!”
“It’s okay, Yusuf,” Ariadne says, “at least someone we know won us.” And that just sets Yusuf off again (it’s Saito! He doesn’t have a cat. I can’t make cat babies with him, Ariadne).
* this picture for reference
** this picture for reference
*** this picture for reference
Fandom: Inception
Warnings: Slash... and several inappropriate comments?
Genre: Humor
Summary: For this prompt at inception_kink
"THE TEAM AGREES (read: is "cajoled") INTO PARTICIPATING AT THE INTERNATIONAL EXTRACTORS' CHARITY AUCTION. UP FOR BID? THEMSELVES.
SAITO BUYS THEM ALL.
THEN HE GIVES ARTHUR TO EAMES
AND YUSEF TO ARIADNE.
HE KEEPS DOM FOR HIMSELF.
ETA: OOH, OOH! BONUS POINTS IF HE GETS INTO A BIDDING WAR WITH ROBERT :D"
Cobb didn't expect everything to end up like this when the International Extractors' Organization (very illegal, very hard to find; don't call them, they'll call you) contacted his team.
Sure, he should have been suspicious when the words "raising funds to create programs in underdeveloped countries that will teach children how to extract, since that is obviously the most lucrative field right now" came out of the organizer's mouth, but it had been a while since he's talked to the head of the organization, and the last time he remembered, it had been a male voice.
Now it's a baby's voice. Cobb wonders if he should be worried.
So now here he is, with the rest of his team, huddled behind a stage and getting ready to be auctioned off. As if it wasn't enough to degrade them like pieces of antique furniture, they had been stripped of either some or all of their normal clothing and shoved into more appealing, the wardrobe lady says, clothing. They, meaning everyone except for Arthur, of course. Nearly everyone in the room fainted or began to fan themselves when they saw Arthur and his impeccable three-piece suit.
Cobb is lucky -- he only has to change his tie. "You are older, yes," the lady says, "with experience. The suit works nicely for that, but this tie is disgusting! Shame! Shame on you! Such a boring black tie!" While Cobb is cowering away from the lady, who has finished slapping him in the face with his own tie and is now looking for a paper shredder to shred his (expensive, dammit) tie, Ariadne leans over.
"Glad you didn't wear that big grey "hide-that-potbelly" t-shirt you have***, huh?" But Cobb is the one laughing minutes later when Ariadne is shoved into a dressing room and comes out wearing a low-cut top Cobb would personally lock Philipa in a high tower forever if she ever wore.
"Shut up," Ariadne says ("So sexy, yes?" The lady insists. "You may keep your silly scarf."), “oh God, I hope most extractors aren’t creepy perverts.” Cobb doesn’t say anything, because he knows the truth would not comfort her at all.
"I-I feel violated!" Yusuf is yelling from inside another dressing room, where he is locked in with a wardrobe assistant. "Help me! Help me! You all need me, dammit! I'm the one who takes care of you all when you're sleeping!"
"Honey," the wardrobe assistant says, "I'm just trying to dress you up a bit. You look like a man who lives with a cat."
"H-How do you know about Blinky! Oh God, you're a stalker! It's finally happened!"
"Someone sounds happy," Eames says, reappearing. He, too, was shoved into a dressing room because for some strange, odd reason, he had arrived wearing a wife beater and some jeans (Arthur had nearly decapitated him). Now, he is wearing a black suit, with a bowtie ("Hugh Laurie can pull it off," his wardrobe assistant explained to him, "you're not as hot as him, not by a long shot, but you're British, so it should be okay.").
Apparently, someone with power in the organization had a fetish for men in suits. It was starting to yet anti-climactic. Yusuf stumbles out of the dressing room in, yes, a black suit (but an unbuttoned one, Cobb’s mind notes helpfully) with his wardrobe assistant trailing behind him.
“Where do you think you’re going?” The assistant asks, grabbing Yusuf’s arm. Yusuf looks confused.
“Um, don’t I have to go on with them?”
“No, sweetie,” the assistant says, “we’ve still got to get rid of that mess on your face!” Two beats pass before a look of horror begins to dawn on Yusuf’s face.
Yusuf’s scream is drowned out by the applause of the audience when, presumably, the announcer steps onto the stage. Arthur is very relieved; he was getting very uncomfortable watching people get visibly aroused in his presence, even if, unbeknownst to him, Eames was glaring at all of them and making gun motions with his hands.
“Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to the 2010 International Extractors’ Charity Auction, and thank you all very much for coming! Now remember, you all signed that liability contract before we let you in, so if you die, not our fault. Not our fault.”
Cobb hears the crowd laugh, but it's not really funny. Billy with the Ray Gun died last year, without the least bit of mention.
“If you were here last year, you remember our cause, “One World, One Dream,” and our efforts to distribute PASIV devices among those who have been robbed by their jobs, parents, significant others, of their ability to dream.”
Cobb remembers that cause. One Chinese extractor protested so vehemently against using the same slogan as the Beijing 2008 Olympics that he had to be tied down, put under, and incepted with the idea that China was so great, even its slogan were being used. Also, that imitation is the best form of flattery.
“Similarly, this year, our cause is equally laudable: to generate funds to create educational programs in order to create a new generation of extractors from children in underdeveloped countries. Together we gather here today, for a brighter future!”
The announcer’s voice rises as the crowd begins to hoot and cheer, and Cobb thinks he hears someone screaming, “let’s bring out the bitches!”
“Let’s bring out the bitches!”
“Go on, go on!” The wardrobe lady and her two assistants hiss, ushering Cobb, his team, and about ten other haggard extractors onto the stage, where they are met with, yes, hoots and cheers and random drunk babble. No one ever said all extractors were as well-adjusted as Cobb.
“Woo-hoo, I like the coconuts on that one!” One extractor in the crowd yells. Cobb sees Ariadne and the other four female extractors look scandalized, only the comment isn't directed at any of them; it’s directed at Yusuf, who is looking a lot more scandalized than Ariadne ever could, unless someone has told her she had a nice banana down there before.
“Same rules as last year,” the announcer bellows, “bid on a person, win, and he or she is yours for 24 hours on the dot! I want a good, clean bid this year! This is a reminder: no hooking people up to PASIV machines so they can’t bid! Anyone who does so will themselves be hooked into a PASIV machine and watch horrible movies from the 80’s on repeat for two hours in real life!”
One by one, the extractors are finally ushered onto stage until they all stand there, in a neat long row, across the stage.
“These are our auctionees today,” the announcer’s voice rings in the room, “take a look, mark your favorites, and remember them when they come out!”
The crowd cheers, and there are overall many indecent proposals and comments about each of them (Cobb can’t remember the last time Arthur has ever been so red before - but really, that man should not have proposed bondage and sex toys and… Cobb doesn’t even want to know what the last thing is, but it makes Eames look very interested).
Then they are herded off stage, and sit in wait, like cattle being led to the slaughterhouse.
“Our first auctionee,” the announcer says, “is a lovely young lady by the name of Ariadne!”
That’s Ariadne’s cue, and when she walks out, there is a great pandemonium.
“She’s - okay, her age is blacked out - she’s in school right now, and she’s an architect. She creates wonderful paradoxical staircases, and can make scenarios that’ll make you reach for your totem and see if you’re in a dream or reality. When she isn’t working, she’s jogging, drawing, or at a music club listening to jazz.”
Cobb, peaking out from behind a thick black curtain, feels bad for Ariadne, who is standing there awkwardly on a little raised circular platform in the middle of the stage.
“200!”
“600!”
“Fuck you - 2,000!”
“No, fuck you. 6,000!”
Well, Cobb was expecting it to reach higher prices, seeing as one job paid as much as -
“10,000!”
Now the real bidding was starting.
“20,000!”
“100,000.” Was that Saito’s voice?
“200,000.” Oh dear God, that was Robert Fischer, Jr.’s voice. What in the world were those two doing there?
“300,000.” Saito.
“500,000!” Robert.
If Fischer got a hold of Ariadne, Cobb would never forgive Saito.
“One million,” Saito says, and the audience holds its breath. It’s a leap, from half a million to a million, which in all truth, isn’t that much for those in the audience, but it’s a pretty hefty sum of money anyways.
Cobb sees Fischer contemplate his next move, before releasing his grip on his number paddle. Maybe Fischer isn’t a creepy man with a taste for college girls.
“Sold!” the announcer crows. “To number 69!” Ariadne visibly releases a breath of relief when she sees that Saito has won. Not that Saito can’t do bad things to her if he wants to, just that Ariadne has been noticing how hard Saito has been trying to get into Cobb’s pants, and Ariadne being raped/killed/etc. would potentially give Saito blue balls forever.
“You’re up next, honey - oh my God, you can’t go out like that!”
“The next auctionee we have is a chemist named Yusuf! His drugs are wide and varied - if you need it, he’s got it! He runs his own business and lives with his cat, uh, named Blinky.”
“Don’t let him go out!”
But it’s too late, and Yusuf practically dances past the wardrobe assistants onto the stage. Just as he passes out of the curtain, “Sexyback” begins to blare out of the speakers, and Yusuf boogies his way towards the circular stage. His pimp coat sways as he moves, and Cobb has to wonder how Yusuf was able to ditch his black suit for something so… purple.
“Woo-hoo!!! 1,000 for that piece of man-meat!”
"What lovely coconuts! 3,000!"
“I want a piece of that! 5,000!”
“10,000!”
Yusuf finally makes it onto the smaller stage, giving a little twirl to hop onto it. Then he strikes an Elvis Pose* (20,000! Someone yells), before striking Disco Pose** (30,000!) and holding it (100,000, someone yells).
In the end, despite the music changing to “I’m Too Sexy” during the bidding (150,000!) and Yusuf flinging his pimp coat out into the crowd (500,000!), Saito is the one who purchases Yusuf for 1.5 million, after heated bidding wars with bidders number 78 (750,000!) and 99 (1 million!). Yusuf returns to the back stage looking disappointed at the outcome.
“There was this lady,” he says miserably to them, after getting reprimanded by the wardrobe team for dressing himself up, “out there. Very 70’s. I hoped she would win.”
Ariadne pats his back consolingly.
“I even wore purple,” Yusuf sobs, “because she dressed her little cat in purple! She had a cat, Ariadne!”
“It’s okay, Yusuf,” Ariadne says, “at least someone we know won us.” And that just sets Yusuf off again (it’s Saito! He doesn’t have a cat. I can’t make cat babies with him, Ariadne).
* this picture for reference
** this picture for reference
*** this picture for reference
