[fic]: We Built Our Own World Of Paradoxes (1/?)
Title: We Built Our Own World Of Paradoxes
Author: dancetothespeed
Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Rating: PG-13
Words: 1,000
Summary: When Cobb comes back, Arthur starts working on the new job with him. Though now he have to deal with Cobb - who's exactly like those wives who goes back to their abuse men - and a projection of Mal. And, not enough with the stress he's already feeling, Eames is acting very suspiciously.
Notes: Okay, so this is like, my first post. Like ever. And yes, I do know that the standards here on LJ are much higher than on FF.net, but I'll do my best. Live Journal is still as confusing as it was in the beginning. Though I'm not sure what isn't confusing any more. My brain is all fuzzy after an Inception-overdose.
Arthur didn't really count on Cobb to come back after the Fischer job. But he did. Sure, it had taken a few months and during that time, Arthur had enjoyed himself with a little vacation in Greece; but when he saw Cobb's name on his phone, calling him in the middle of the night, saying that he couldn't stand the stillness any more, that he missed the excitement, Arthur was not the right man to say no.
It only took a few hours for Cobb to get a job - the rumours that he could perform inception certainly helped - and another few hours for Arthur to get on a plane to the States.
The hotel warehouse Cobb had given him the address of wasn't far away from the airport; after 20 minutes, Arthur arrived to meet an excited Dominic Cobb. Cobb was made for this job, Arthur knew it: this was his real element; just seeing the thrilled brown eyes and the eager smile on Cobb's face made Arthur feel home.
"Enjoyed Greece?" Cobb asked, as Arthur removed his jacket and put it on a chair nearby.
"It was delightful. Though I very much prefer breaking into someone's mind," Arthur said and grinned. Cobb merely nodded and grinned back. "So, what's the job?"
Cobb gestured Arthur to sit down and wrote a sentence on the board behind him. Arthur sat down and waited for Cobb to step away so that he could see what the board said, but he didn't.
"Our client's name is Joseph Reece. He's famous in the trot-business, and is very powerful. He has a teenage daughter, Madeleine, and he wants us to place an idea in her mind." He stepped away from the board so that Arthur could get a clear view of it.
I want to kill my mother.
Arthur gasped. Cobb stepped in the way of the board again and waited for Arthur to compose himself - which he did fairly quickly.
"He wants us to…place an idea…into his own daughter…to kill his wife? What kind of psychopath is he?" Arthur mumbled, most to himself.
"A very clever one, I believe."
Arthur spun around in his chair and saw Eames leaning nonchalantly against the doorway a few feet behind him, a cigarette dangling from his left hand while the right hand was resting in his pocket to his beige slackers.
"You see, Mr Reece wants to divorce his wife, but he doesn't want her to get all the money. So the only way out, if he doesn't want to spend the rest of his life with someone he doesn't love, is to kill her. Or in this case, get someone else to kill her."
Arthur stared at Eames. Even though he thought the idea was horrible - a child killing her own mother - Eames and this Mr Reece had a point.
"But why the daughter? Why not someone else?" Arthur questioned.
"Because if Reece were to hire someone to murder her, it will all seem too suspicious. But if the daughter did it, she will go to prison, and the money wont go to either the daughter or to the wife." Eames explained and blew on his cigarette. He sat down in the chair beside Arthur, and Arthur looked up at a satisfied-looking Cobb.
"Will we really need a Forger?" Arthur asked, annoyed that Eames was going to be on the mission. The job was hard enough without an overconfident douche bag getting involved. Cobb nodded, looking at the slightly amused face of Eames. Eames smirked at Cobb, and Arthur felt his annoyance grow with every second of that ridiculous smirk on that ridiculous man.
Arthur sighed and glared at Eames, before being interrupted by a familiar voice.
"Whoa, take it easy guys, if looks could kill, you'd be dead by now, Eames," Ariadne said and smiled at the two men. Eames just winked at Arthur; Arthur wanted to strangle him.
****
"So this is the plan?"
Arthur stared at the papers Ariadne was holding and thought over the plan all over again in his head. So first they would make the daughter fall asleep in her room while her mother was away on vacation, then they would break into her mind, where Eames would be disguised as the mother, Janet, and yell at Madeleine until she started crying. The projection of the second dream would then be a terrifying and hating mother, while Eames would portray Madeleine's boyfriend Max, and hopefully, Madeleine would take the advice to do something drastic to get away from her mother. In the third dream, Cobb would arrange the murder opportunity and try to make sense of that murder being the only way out.
It was a bit simpler than the Fischer job, since Ariadne didn't really have to do so much with the architecture - if everything did go as planned, they would be in the house all the time - and neither she nor Saito would have to come along. Though as Cobb said, there was nothing simple with inception.
Arthur was drawn out of his thoughts when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned around and faced grey eyes and a smirking face.
"Relax, darling, it's going be fine. She's not even an adult yet, and her father is giving us free access to her."
Arthur snorted. "It sounds like you're going to rape her or something," he muttered, and saw Ariadne sneak out of the warehouse from the corner of his eye. Eames winked at him and leaned closer - too close, in Arthur opinion, their chests were almost touching.
"Oh, don't worry darling," he whispered into Arthur's ear, "I'm not swinging that way, if you know what I mean."
Arthur's eyes widened, but before he could say something back or even react, Eames had disappeared out of the warehouse and a stunned Arthur was alone with a slightly wet ear from the ridiculous warmth of Eames' breath.