Fic: Paris By Night, Arthur/Eames, Inception
So I'm a total geek, and wrote Inception fic over at inception_kink. A despite the fact that this journal is pretty much dead, I thought I'd post it over here, just in case anyone's interested. Maybe (hopefully) there'll be more sooner or later.
Title: Paris at Night (lame I know, I've you've any better ideas, I'd be delighted to hear them)
Pairing: Arthur/Eames (naturally)
Rating: PG-13 (probably)
Prompt: Arthur brings Eames to his favourite bench in the park.
Arthur comes here every Friday afternoon.
He's never, ever brought anyone to this place before.
Notes: That bit that looks like it might be a Princess Bride reference is, I wrote this at about midnight when I should have been working on a model in Maya (which is simultaneous the most fun thing I've done for my degree, and the most frustrating), and it's not been betaed, so all the mistakes are mine.
The original prompter put The Beatles - I Wanna Hold Your Hand with it, which now I listen to it, goes really well.
There's a quiet little park tucked among the back streets of Paris, it's set into the side of a hill and slopes away in a series of steep terraces. Arthur finds it one evening as he's wandering through the darkening Paris streets. All the enforced sleep of dream-sharing leaves him too awake to sleep and too muzzy headed to work so he walks. He thinks he must have explored acres of cobbled streets and wide boulevards, stopped to drink sweet tea (a bad habit he has picked up from long association with Eames) at numerous little cafes and rummaged through every old bookshop in the district.
People are beginning to drift home as Arthur approaches the wrought iron gates of the park. The sky is fading from soft blue to deep indigo and the sunlit shadows have all fled leaving patches of light around the lampposts. Spread below the city is all a-twinkle, a living map marked out in pinpricks of light. His favourite bench is unoccupied except for a starling who sits on the weathered wooden back watching Arthur until he gets too close, and then flying to perch in one of the nearby silver birches. It chatters at him, as though scolding, and Arthur smiles for the first time that day.
Inception is a complex business, and the ever meticulous Arthur can feel in his bones that no matter how much research he does, no matter how hard he works it will not go perfectly. It has raised a tension that tightens his shoulders, sending him home at the end of each day with a headache throbbing at the base of skull. He sits on the bench, removing his tie and unbuttoning his collar as he does so. With his feet stretched out before him he breathes a heavy sigh and tries hard not to think about the job.
Except it's like elephants, the more he tries not to think about it, the more the worries race through his mind. He's worried about bringing Ariadne in on this job, it will be dangerous, and although both Cobb and Miles think she can handle it, to Arthur she seems too young, too inexperienced. He worries about Cobb, as he has worried about Cobb since Mal's death. He worries about Mal, the last thing they need during inception is for Cobb's projection of her to turn up and start shooting them. He worries about Eames, the forger isn't as clever as he would like everyone to think, and Arthur worries that it will be his downfall. He worries that his research will not be good enough for Eames to forge Browning. He worries that Eames research will not be good enough for him to forge Browning. And then he realises that he's been worrying about Eames an awful lot.
It pauses his thoughts, and for the first time since he sat down he looks out at the myriad lights of the city. It's calming, knowing that there's the population of a small country going about their lives; cooking, arguing, loving, crying, laughing, living. And none of them even know that inception is possible, only a few will have heard of dream sharing at all. What they do changes the world, but it does not shatter it, mountains will not fall if they fail.
Arthur's thoughts drift back to Eames, he's been thinking about the forger a great deal recently. They have worked together on and off for years, the best forger and the best point man in the business, they've always complemented one another, and in time a friendship has built almost as strong as between Arthur and Cobb. And looking out at the now night-dark city Arthur realises what deep down he has known for ages. He loves Eames, would do anything to keep him from being hurt, which is why he is worrying so about the job. And while he has no idea how the forger feels about him, he knows Eames is not averse to men, far from it.
Comforted by these thoughts Arthur finally feels his mind go blank, the tension drains from his shoulders and he watches the starling in the birches, and the lights of the city, listening to the laughter and music coming from the restaurant on a street nearby.
The next day goes more smoothly, the whole team seem to be set at ease by Arthur's more relaxed manner. He strolls in at five past nine with coffees and pastries for everyone and after giving Eames his lays a hand on the forger's arm for a moment before going to his own desk. He doesn't notice Eames turning to watch as he sits down, or the relieved look on Cobb's face.
Ariadne cracks the design for the hotel early in the afternoon, and spends several hours explaining it to Arthur. Her delight at the complex design is infectious, and Arthur realises that she'll be alright, whatever happens. There's a strong will and a fearfully intelligent mind hidden behind the slightly shy smile, and he's glad that Miles suggested her. If all her designs are as good as this one she'll soon be the best architect in the business and then they'll be the dream team again.
Eames spends the afternoon under the PASIV working on his Browning forgery and wakes from the kick with the crooked smile that Arthur adores. He goes to his desk to check a few details, but nods to himself as though the papers have confirmed what he was already sure of.
A few hours later Cobb suggests that they call it a day, it's still early in the preparation phase, and he doesn't want the team burning themselves out with too much work. Arthur knows that he just wants them gone so he can go under and see Mal and their children, but he says nothing, merely tidies the papers on his desk and takes his keys and wallet from the drawer.
As he leaves the stairwell and steps out into the maze of streets surrounding the warehouse Arthur hears footsteps clattering down behind him and he waits, knowing from the pace that it is Eames. He's long been able to recognise the rest of the team from their tread, and they wonder how he always knows who is in the room at any given time. He leans against the doorframe, and waits for Eames to reach the bottom. Eames looks almost relieved that Arthur is still there, but then hesitates as he walks over to him.
"Did you have any plans for dinner, darling?" Eames asks, as casually as he can manage.
"Not particularly," Arthur says "although I know a great place, it's not too far."
He realises that he means the restaurant he could hear music and voices from while he was sat in the park the night before. And following swiftly on the heels of that first thought comes another; he intends to take Eames to the park afterwards, show him the beauty of Paris spread out below their feet and finally kiss that gorgeous, clever mouth.
"As you wish." Eames replies, and the two of them walk out into the late afternoon sunlight. It seems bright after the dusty interior of the warehouse, and Eames pulls out a pair of the most hideously tacky aviators Arthur thinks he has ever seen. He refrains from commenting though, and merely snorts quietly with laughter. Under the noise of the traffic Eames doesn't hear him, and just carries on brazenly walking down the road wearing the awful things.
Dinner is wonderful, the food good, the wine better, and the conversation about everything except inception. Arthur thinks it's been a long time since he's had such a pleasant evening, which is probably why, when the bill is paid and the last glasses of wine finished he tells Eames he has something he wants to show him. Naturally Eames grins and glances at Arthur's crotch, which of course causes the heat to rise in the other man's face as he had spent the latter half of the meal considering, in great detail, what he would like to do to Eames cock.
Hastily he rises and, with a nod of thanks to the waitress, walks out into the twilit street. He stops on the edge of the pavement and feels, rather than hears, Eames walk up behind him. The forger's breath is hot on the back of his neck and Arthur can feel his heartbeat rising. Without a word he starts for the park gates, knowing that Eames will follow, and sure enough, within a few steps, he is walking beside him. It isn't long before they're in the park, gravel and grass beneath their feet, and Arthur unerringly leads the way to his favourite bench.
The sun is lying low on the roofs as they sit down, and all Paris seems to glow golden. Arthur looks at it, and the full moon that will cast the city in silver after dark, and tries to not look at the man sat beside him. He head is full, thoughts whirling like the flocks of starlings had earlier. His self-control only holds out for so long though, and eventually he turns to look at Eames, who is watching him avidly.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Eames says.
Arthur glances back at the city, silvered now that the sun has slipped below the horizon.
"Yes, it is."
"Oh, I wasn't talking about the city, love." Eames says, that crooked smile on his face again.
Arthur blushes for the second time that day, and opens his mouth as though to speak. Before he can he finds that Eames has leant forward and pressed his lips to Arthur's, gently at first, and then more insistently when the point man doesn't pull away. After a moment he rests his forehead against Arthur's and sighs, "Finally." and "Thank you." Then he pulls Arthur against his side, tucking one arm around his shoulders and taking Arthur's hand with the other. Later there will be more kisses, clothes will be discarded in untidy heaps around Arthur's apartment, and they will wake in the same bed, warm from each other's bodies, but for now there is just the beautiful city below them, and the singing of a starling in the birches nearby.
Title: Paris at Night (lame I know, I've you've any better ideas, I'd be delighted to hear them)
Pairing: Arthur/Eames (naturally)
Rating: PG-13 (probably)
Prompt: Arthur brings Eames to his favourite bench in the park.
Arthur comes here every Friday afternoon.
He's never, ever brought anyone to this place before.
Notes: That bit that looks like it might be a Princess Bride reference is, I wrote this at about midnight when I should have been working on a model in Maya (which is simultaneous the most fun thing I've done for my degree, and the most frustrating), and it's not been betaed, so all the mistakes are mine.
The original prompter put The Beatles - I Wanna Hold Your Hand with it, which now I listen to it, goes really well.
There's a quiet little park tucked among the back streets of Paris, it's set into the side of a hill and slopes away in a series of steep terraces. Arthur finds it one evening as he's wandering through the darkening Paris streets. All the enforced sleep of dream-sharing leaves him too awake to sleep and too muzzy headed to work so he walks. He thinks he must have explored acres of cobbled streets and wide boulevards, stopped to drink sweet tea (a bad habit he has picked up from long association with Eames) at numerous little cafes and rummaged through every old bookshop in the district.
People are beginning to drift home as Arthur approaches the wrought iron gates of the park. The sky is fading from soft blue to deep indigo and the sunlit shadows have all fled leaving patches of light around the lampposts. Spread below the city is all a-twinkle, a living map marked out in pinpricks of light. His favourite bench is unoccupied except for a starling who sits on the weathered wooden back watching Arthur until he gets too close, and then flying to perch in one of the nearby silver birches. It chatters at him, as though scolding, and Arthur smiles for the first time that day.
Inception is a complex business, and the ever meticulous Arthur can feel in his bones that no matter how much research he does, no matter how hard he works it will not go perfectly. It has raised a tension that tightens his shoulders, sending him home at the end of each day with a headache throbbing at the base of skull. He sits on the bench, removing his tie and unbuttoning his collar as he does so. With his feet stretched out before him he breathes a heavy sigh and tries hard not to think about the job.
Except it's like elephants, the more he tries not to think about it, the more the worries race through his mind. He's worried about bringing Ariadne in on this job, it will be dangerous, and although both Cobb and Miles think she can handle it, to Arthur she seems too young, too inexperienced. He worries about Cobb, as he has worried about Cobb since Mal's death. He worries about Mal, the last thing they need during inception is for Cobb's projection of her to turn up and start shooting them. He worries about Eames, the forger isn't as clever as he would like everyone to think, and Arthur worries that it will be his downfall. He worries that his research will not be good enough for Eames to forge Browning. He worries that Eames research will not be good enough for him to forge Browning. And then he realises that he's been worrying about Eames an awful lot.
It pauses his thoughts, and for the first time since he sat down he looks out at the myriad lights of the city. It's calming, knowing that there's the population of a small country going about their lives; cooking, arguing, loving, crying, laughing, living. And none of them even know that inception is possible, only a few will have heard of dream sharing at all. What they do changes the world, but it does not shatter it, mountains will not fall if they fail.
Arthur's thoughts drift back to Eames, he's been thinking about the forger a great deal recently. They have worked together on and off for years, the best forger and the best point man in the business, they've always complemented one another, and in time a friendship has built almost as strong as between Arthur and Cobb. And looking out at the now night-dark city Arthur realises what deep down he has known for ages. He loves Eames, would do anything to keep him from being hurt, which is why he is worrying so about the job. And while he has no idea how the forger feels about him, he knows Eames is not averse to men, far from it.
Comforted by these thoughts Arthur finally feels his mind go blank, the tension drains from his shoulders and he watches the starling in the birches, and the lights of the city, listening to the laughter and music coming from the restaurant on a street nearby.
The next day goes more smoothly, the whole team seem to be set at ease by Arthur's more relaxed manner. He strolls in at five past nine with coffees and pastries for everyone and after giving Eames his lays a hand on the forger's arm for a moment before going to his own desk. He doesn't notice Eames turning to watch as he sits down, or the relieved look on Cobb's face.
Ariadne cracks the design for the hotel early in the afternoon, and spends several hours explaining it to Arthur. Her delight at the complex design is infectious, and Arthur realises that she'll be alright, whatever happens. There's a strong will and a fearfully intelligent mind hidden behind the slightly shy smile, and he's glad that Miles suggested her. If all her designs are as good as this one she'll soon be the best architect in the business and then they'll be the dream team again.
Eames spends the afternoon under the PASIV working on his Browning forgery and wakes from the kick with the crooked smile that Arthur adores. He goes to his desk to check a few details, but nods to himself as though the papers have confirmed what he was already sure of.
A few hours later Cobb suggests that they call it a day, it's still early in the preparation phase, and he doesn't want the team burning themselves out with too much work. Arthur knows that he just wants them gone so he can go under and see Mal and their children, but he says nothing, merely tidies the papers on his desk and takes his keys and wallet from the drawer.
As he leaves the stairwell and steps out into the maze of streets surrounding the warehouse Arthur hears footsteps clattering down behind him and he waits, knowing from the pace that it is Eames. He's long been able to recognise the rest of the team from their tread, and they wonder how he always knows who is in the room at any given time. He leans against the doorframe, and waits for Eames to reach the bottom. Eames looks almost relieved that Arthur is still there, but then hesitates as he walks over to him.
"Did you have any plans for dinner, darling?" Eames asks, as casually as he can manage.
"Not particularly," Arthur says "although I know a great place, it's not too far."
He realises that he means the restaurant he could hear music and voices from while he was sat in the park the night before. And following swiftly on the heels of that first thought comes another; he intends to take Eames to the park afterwards, show him the beauty of Paris spread out below their feet and finally kiss that gorgeous, clever mouth.
"As you wish." Eames replies, and the two of them walk out into the late afternoon sunlight. It seems bright after the dusty interior of the warehouse, and Eames pulls out a pair of the most hideously tacky aviators Arthur thinks he has ever seen. He refrains from commenting though, and merely snorts quietly with laughter. Under the noise of the traffic Eames doesn't hear him, and just carries on brazenly walking down the road wearing the awful things.
Dinner is wonderful, the food good, the wine better, and the conversation about everything except inception. Arthur thinks it's been a long time since he's had such a pleasant evening, which is probably why, when the bill is paid and the last glasses of wine finished he tells Eames he has something he wants to show him. Naturally Eames grins and glances at Arthur's crotch, which of course causes the heat to rise in the other man's face as he had spent the latter half of the meal considering, in great detail, what he would like to do to Eames cock.
Hastily he rises and, with a nod of thanks to the waitress, walks out into the twilit street. He stops on the edge of the pavement and feels, rather than hears, Eames walk up behind him. The forger's breath is hot on the back of his neck and Arthur can feel his heartbeat rising. Without a word he starts for the park gates, knowing that Eames will follow, and sure enough, within a few steps, he is walking beside him. It isn't long before they're in the park, gravel and grass beneath their feet, and Arthur unerringly leads the way to his favourite bench.
The sun is lying low on the roofs as they sit down, and all Paris seems to glow golden. Arthur looks at it, and the full moon that will cast the city in silver after dark, and tries to not look at the man sat beside him. He head is full, thoughts whirling like the flocks of starlings had earlier. His self-control only holds out for so long though, and eventually he turns to look at Eames, who is watching him avidly.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Eames says.
Arthur glances back at the city, silvered now that the sun has slipped below the horizon.
"Yes, it is."
"Oh, I wasn't talking about the city, love." Eames says, that crooked smile on his face again.
Arthur blushes for the second time that day, and opens his mouth as though to speak. Before he can he finds that Eames has leant forward and pressed his lips to Arthur's, gently at first, and then more insistently when the point man doesn't pull away. After a moment he rests his forehead against Arthur's and sighs, "Finally." and "Thank you." Then he pulls Arthur against his side, tucking one arm around his shoulders and taking Arthur's hand with the other. Later there will be more kisses, clothes will be discarded in untidy heaps around Arthur's apartment, and they will wake in the same bed, warm from each other's bodies, but for now there is just the beautiful city below them, and the singing of a starling in the birches nearby.