Fic: karma is only a b!tch sometimes (arthur/eames)
karma is only a b!tch sometimes
Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Words: 1832
Rating: PG
Status: Complete (oneshot)
Summary: In which Arthur tries to make sense of Eames' nonsensical notions.
Notes: All I can really say is that I had fun with this. Eames strikes me as the type to have some infuriating moments.
“I still don’t understand,” said Arthur, looking entirely too comfortable in his three-piece suit, despite the glaring sun. Even with the terrace awning, the rays were still slanting in at such an angle that the green-striped fabric overhead seemed a moot point. “Do you or do you not believe in karma?”
Eames undid another button at his throat, fidgeting in the heat. He ignored Arthur’s skeptical stare. “I said, I believe in the possibility of karma.”
“So you believe in it.”
“No. I don’t believe it or disbelieve it, but my mentality supports both its existence and lack of existence.”
Arthur sat back, repositioning his watch and pinning Eames with a slow gaze. A group of teenagers ran past them in the direction of the beach, dressed in swim gear and probably on their way to windsurf. August plus Karpathos equaled the perfect day for windsurfing, and there were already several sails dancing on the waves in the distance. Eames glanced at them briefly.
“So, what you’re saying is, you’d rather not pick a side.”
Eames laughed, his eyes back on Arthur. “No. Not everyone is like you, Arthur.”
“Actually, a lot of people are like me.”
“No one is like you.”
Arthur ignored the soft tone of Eames’ voice, continuing with, “Yes, a lot of people are like me. There are many people who do not believe in karma. You’re taking the easy way out.”
“I disagree.” Eames took a swill of his drink, smacking his lips together with the sole purpose of annoying Arthur. He succeeded. “I should think that individuals in my position have it a little bit tougher. We could be wrong or we could be right, and we constantly flail between these two possibilities, desperately waiting for evidence that at least one of these possibilities is real so that we can discount the other. I actually think you’re the one taking the easy way out, Arthur.”
“And how is that, Eames?”
“Well, you automatically don’t believe in karma.”
“I don’t like your use of the word ‘automatically,’” Arthur cut in, “but no, I don’t believe in it. There’s no proof to make me believe otherwise.”
“Exactly,” said Eames, throwing up his arms as if he had just proved a point. If he had, it was lost on Arthur. Coming down from his momentary high, Eames brought his chair closer, leaning over and adjusting his pant leg. “You don’t believe in karma, because there is no evidence that it exists, but is there enough evidence to prove that it doesn’t exist?”
“Oh, lord,” Arthur groaned.
Laughing, Eames said, “You brought this up.”
“You’re the one who wouldn’t kill the spider in our hotel room.”
“And why should I? That spider didn’t do anything to me. Speaking of, you wouldn’t happen to be scared of spiders, would you, Arthur?”
“You’re insufferable, Eames.”
“Amazing. So you’re an arachnophobe. You really do learn something new everyday.”
“Why did I agree to this trip?” Arthur muttered, thanking the waitress who refilled his water glass. He didn’t miss the bedroom eyes she sent in Eames’ direction, even if the forger seemed to miss it. His attention was devotedly solely to Arthur.
Eames stretched, appreciating a wayward breeze. “You’re here because Greece is lovely this time of the year, and because I asked you.”
“And because we need to get in touch with a source.”
“And besides,” Eames continued, disregarding Arthur’s wry commentary, “you’re the one, sitting here with me in Karpathos on this beautiful day. I can’t be all that insufferable.”
Arthur and Eames stared at one another, and it was a rare moment of quiet even amidst the buzzing din of their surroundings. Arthur’s expression said, I have heard all of this before, and I’m still willing to listen to your pretentious notions. Eames’ sly grin meant, The only pretentious person is you, and I wouldn’t have you any other way.
Cobb had been surprised to learn that they were seeing one another-(his expression had been absolutely priceless, along with his wary, “What do you mean by ‘partners’?)-and Eames had not been all that surprised to learn that even if they shared an occasional drink, and, less often, a bed, that did not mean that Arthur was going to transform into some blubbering-affectionate-significant other.
On the contrary, he seemed to close up even more, flat-out rejecting Eames’ public shows of affection along with many of his private ones. But that was half the fun. The other half was moments like this, when it was just the two of them-when they weren’t obligated to argue and did so anyway.
“You’re still making no sense,” Arthur said, sighing and leaning his arm on the table. He shaded his eyes from the sun, revealing dulled surprise when Eames moved his chair so that he blocked it.
“What doesn’t make sense?” inquired Eames.
“Everything you say.”
“Everything I say? If I say I love you, does that make sense?”
Arthur shot him a sidelong glance. “Your beliefs on karma-How can they possibly operate in the real world?”
“Precisely like this: Let’s say I’m walking around, and I come upon a spider. Okay? I can either kill this spider, or I can let it live.”
Arthur looked decidedly incredulous. “Okay…”
“Now, if I kill it, and karma exists, then later on, when I’m waltzing around barefoot in the grass, I could, hypothetically, end up stepping on a wasp and get stung.”
“Why would you be waltzing around barefoot in the grass?”
“Humor me, Arthur. Now, listen. If I choose not to kill it, and karma exists, then later on, when I’m doing my barefoot waltz, I just might narrowly miss that wasp, escaping unscathed. Understand?”
The waitress came by the table, dropping the check off and winking at Eames. This time, Eames noticed, smiling innocently at her and then a little more deviously at Arthur.
Arthur narrowed his eyes. “How would you even know that you had missed the wasp, if we’re going with the utterly preposterous fallacy that karma might or might not exist?”
“That’s just the thing, Arthur,” Eames raised his brows, clapping Arthur on the shoulder. “I’d never know, but I’d still walk away blissfully ignorant and without a wasp’s ass stuck to my foot.”
“Lovely, Eames.”
“I’d expect it to be the exact opposite, actually.”
“And if karma doesn’t exist?”
“Then an innocent spider walks away with his life.” Eames sat back, swirling the liquid in his glass. “I don’t mess with karma; karma doesn’t mess with me; and if karma doesn’t exist, well, then, I’ve just saved a life.”
“So you base all of the decisions in your life on an improbable hypothesis?” Arthur said, moving to pick up the check and blinking as Eames grasped it.
“Only the decisions that will annoy you, Arthur.” Eames slipped his card on the table, wrapping the check neatly around it. Arthur watched him and sighed.
“Why do I put up with you?”
“Because I buy you drinks.”
“I didn’t ask you to-and besides, you just want to get me into bed with you.”
“No, I don’t. Wait, is it working?”
“Eames.”
“Sorry, sorry. I’ll be good.”
The waitress came and handled the final processes of the bill, and they gathered their things. Eames swung his jacket over his shoulder, and Arthur folded his own over his arm, and they left the café, following the winding street along the water that would eventually lead to their room.
“What?” Eames laughed as they exited the terrace. Arthur was giving him one of those looks. “Are you still hung up on that karma business? Shall I give you another example?”
“Please don’t.”
“Okay,” Eames walked and talked, gesturing with his free hand. “I could, hypothetically, turn and kiss you right now, which you would undoubtedly hate-there’s nothing hypothetical about that.” He did not miss Arthur’s shoulders as they hitched up, a defensive maneuver. “Or, I could not kiss you, and if karma exists, then, hypothetically, of course, you might be the one to kiss me later on. Understand?”
“I suppose,” Arthur said slowly, eyeing Eames with the usual suspicion, “but don’t expect me to be all over you if you do manage to restrain yourself. That was hypothetical.” Eames grinned at him. “Hy-po-the-ti-cal,” Arthur said again, voice low.
It was mid-afternoon now, so the sun was not overwhelmingly harsh, and men and women seemed to constantly ride by in little cars or on bicycles. People ran past them, many of them still heading to the beach and several heading back for the day. Eames was particularly amicable, waving and greeting anyone who came within a few feet of them. Arthur remained quiet, rubbing his temples and narrowing his eyes in Eames’ direction. Eames could only smile at him.
Without warning, Arthur grasped his wrist and pulled him into one of the spaces between two houses, theirs lips meeting haphazardly as Eames dropped his jacket and pressed his body against the point man. It was a rough kiss, but theirs often were, each of them fighting to maintain some kind of dominance, even if it meant resorting to little tricks like nipping teeth and groping hands. It didn’t go there this time. Eames was happy to concede and perfectly content to have Arthur’s tongue on his lips and in his mouth.
“Arthur,” he murmured, pulling back begrudgingly. Some of Arthur’s hair had come out of place, and Eames brushed it back, his hand resting on Arthur’s neck. “Someone might see.” In fact, it was highly probable that someone had seen, but this was a faraway truth-inconsequential.
“As if that’s ever stopped you,” said Arthur, curling his fingers in Eames’ pockets. His lips settled on Eames’ collarbone, and then his throat, and Eames smirked, angling Arthur’s face up for another languid kiss.
“That does it,” he said, pulling back after a few moments and putting some distance between himself and Arthur. He adjusted his shirt so that he didn’t look so thoroughly ravished, even if, secretly, he liked looking that way. “We’re going to need to call a cab.”
“A cab?” Arthur looked perplexed. “The hotel isn’t that much farther.”
“Let me put it this way: If we walk home, I will jump you.”
“Let’s get a cab.”
As Arthur picked up their jackets, slipping his own on and holding Eames’ up in front of him, he shot Eames one of his characteristic, skeptical expressions. “Don’t take any of this as proof that karma exists,” he said as Eames waved down a cab.
Eames' smile was unbearably Eames. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied. “You have to admit, though. If it does exist-hypothetically, of course-karma is not a bad idea. I never understood the American expression, something about karma being a bloke?”
“The correct term would be ‘bitch,’” Arthur explained, deprecatingly.
“Right. Well, either way, she can’t be that bad.”
“What makes you think karma is a female?”
“Exactly.”
Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Words: 1832
Rating: PG
Status: Complete (oneshot)
Summary: In which Arthur tries to make sense of Eames' nonsensical notions.
Notes: All I can really say is that I had fun with this. Eames strikes me as the type to have some infuriating moments.
“I still don’t understand,” said Arthur, looking entirely too comfortable in his three-piece suit, despite the glaring sun. Even with the terrace awning, the rays were still slanting in at such an angle that the green-striped fabric overhead seemed a moot point. “Do you or do you not believe in karma?”
Eames undid another button at his throat, fidgeting in the heat. He ignored Arthur’s skeptical stare. “I said, I believe in the possibility of karma.”
“So you believe in it.”
“No. I don’t believe it or disbelieve it, but my mentality supports both its existence and lack of existence.”
Arthur sat back, repositioning his watch and pinning Eames with a slow gaze. A group of teenagers ran past them in the direction of the beach, dressed in swim gear and probably on their way to windsurf. August plus Karpathos equaled the perfect day for windsurfing, and there were already several sails dancing on the waves in the distance. Eames glanced at them briefly.
“So, what you’re saying is, you’d rather not pick a side.”
Eames laughed, his eyes back on Arthur. “No. Not everyone is like you, Arthur.”
“Actually, a lot of people are like me.”
“No one is like you.”
Arthur ignored the soft tone of Eames’ voice, continuing with, “Yes, a lot of people are like me. There are many people who do not believe in karma. You’re taking the easy way out.”
“I disagree.” Eames took a swill of his drink, smacking his lips together with the sole purpose of annoying Arthur. He succeeded. “I should think that individuals in my position have it a little bit tougher. We could be wrong or we could be right, and we constantly flail between these two possibilities, desperately waiting for evidence that at least one of these possibilities is real so that we can discount the other. I actually think you’re the one taking the easy way out, Arthur.”
“And how is that, Eames?”
“Well, you automatically don’t believe in karma.”
“I don’t like your use of the word ‘automatically,’” Arthur cut in, “but no, I don’t believe in it. There’s no proof to make me believe otherwise.”
“Exactly,” said Eames, throwing up his arms as if he had just proved a point. If he had, it was lost on Arthur. Coming down from his momentary high, Eames brought his chair closer, leaning over and adjusting his pant leg. “You don’t believe in karma, because there is no evidence that it exists, but is there enough evidence to prove that it doesn’t exist?”
“Oh, lord,” Arthur groaned.
Laughing, Eames said, “You brought this up.”
“You’re the one who wouldn’t kill the spider in our hotel room.”
“And why should I? That spider didn’t do anything to me. Speaking of, you wouldn’t happen to be scared of spiders, would you, Arthur?”
“You’re insufferable, Eames.”
“Amazing. So you’re an arachnophobe. You really do learn something new everyday.”
“Why did I agree to this trip?” Arthur muttered, thanking the waitress who refilled his water glass. He didn’t miss the bedroom eyes she sent in Eames’ direction, even if the forger seemed to miss it. His attention was devotedly solely to Arthur.
Eames stretched, appreciating a wayward breeze. “You’re here because Greece is lovely this time of the year, and because I asked you.”
“And because we need to get in touch with a source.”
“And besides,” Eames continued, disregarding Arthur’s wry commentary, “you’re the one, sitting here with me in Karpathos on this beautiful day. I can’t be all that insufferable.”
Arthur and Eames stared at one another, and it was a rare moment of quiet even amidst the buzzing din of their surroundings. Arthur’s expression said, I have heard all of this before, and I’m still willing to listen to your pretentious notions. Eames’ sly grin meant, The only pretentious person is you, and I wouldn’t have you any other way.
Cobb had been surprised to learn that they were seeing one another-(his expression had been absolutely priceless, along with his wary, “What do you mean by ‘partners’?)-and Eames had not been all that surprised to learn that even if they shared an occasional drink, and, less often, a bed, that did not mean that Arthur was going to transform into some blubbering-affectionate-significant other.
On the contrary, he seemed to close up even more, flat-out rejecting Eames’ public shows of affection along with many of his private ones. But that was half the fun. The other half was moments like this, when it was just the two of them-when they weren’t obligated to argue and did so anyway.
“You’re still making no sense,” Arthur said, sighing and leaning his arm on the table. He shaded his eyes from the sun, revealing dulled surprise when Eames moved his chair so that he blocked it.
“What doesn’t make sense?” inquired Eames.
“Everything you say.”
“Everything I say? If I say I love you, does that make sense?”
Arthur shot him a sidelong glance. “Your beliefs on karma-How can they possibly operate in the real world?”
“Precisely like this: Let’s say I’m walking around, and I come upon a spider. Okay? I can either kill this spider, or I can let it live.”
Arthur looked decidedly incredulous. “Okay…”
“Now, if I kill it, and karma exists, then later on, when I’m waltzing around barefoot in the grass, I could, hypothetically, end up stepping on a wasp and get stung.”
“Why would you be waltzing around barefoot in the grass?”
“Humor me, Arthur. Now, listen. If I choose not to kill it, and karma exists, then later on, when I’m doing my barefoot waltz, I just might narrowly miss that wasp, escaping unscathed. Understand?”
The waitress came by the table, dropping the check off and winking at Eames. This time, Eames noticed, smiling innocently at her and then a little more deviously at Arthur.
Arthur narrowed his eyes. “How would you even know that you had missed the wasp, if we’re going with the utterly preposterous fallacy that karma might or might not exist?”
“That’s just the thing, Arthur,” Eames raised his brows, clapping Arthur on the shoulder. “I’d never know, but I’d still walk away blissfully ignorant and without a wasp’s ass stuck to my foot.”
“Lovely, Eames.”
“I’d expect it to be the exact opposite, actually.”
“And if karma doesn’t exist?”
“Then an innocent spider walks away with his life.” Eames sat back, swirling the liquid in his glass. “I don’t mess with karma; karma doesn’t mess with me; and if karma doesn’t exist, well, then, I’ve just saved a life.”
“So you base all of the decisions in your life on an improbable hypothesis?” Arthur said, moving to pick up the check and blinking as Eames grasped it.
“Only the decisions that will annoy you, Arthur.” Eames slipped his card on the table, wrapping the check neatly around it. Arthur watched him and sighed.
“Why do I put up with you?”
“Because I buy you drinks.”
“I didn’t ask you to-and besides, you just want to get me into bed with you.”
“No, I don’t. Wait, is it working?”
“Eames.”
“Sorry, sorry. I’ll be good.”
The waitress came and handled the final processes of the bill, and they gathered their things. Eames swung his jacket over his shoulder, and Arthur folded his own over his arm, and they left the café, following the winding street along the water that would eventually lead to their room.
“What?” Eames laughed as they exited the terrace. Arthur was giving him one of those looks. “Are you still hung up on that karma business? Shall I give you another example?”
“Please don’t.”
“Okay,” Eames walked and talked, gesturing with his free hand. “I could, hypothetically, turn and kiss you right now, which you would undoubtedly hate-there’s nothing hypothetical about that.” He did not miss Arthur’s shoulders as they hitched up, a defensive maneuver. “Or, I could not kiss you, and if karma exists, then, hypothetically, of course, you might be the one to kiss me later on. Understand?”
“I suppose,” Arthur said slowly, eyeing Eames with the usual suspicion, “but don’t expect me to be all over you if you do manage to restrain yourself. That was hypothetical.” Eames grinned at him. “Hy-po-the-ti-cal,” Arthur said again, voice low.
It was mid-afternoon now, so the sun was not overwhelmingly harsh, and men and women seemed to constantly ride by in little cars or on bicycles. People ran past them, many of them still heading to the beach and several heading back for the day. Eames was particularly amicable, waving and greeting anyone who came within a few feet of them. Arthur remained quiet, rubbing his temples and narrowing his eyes in Eames’ direction. Eames could only smile at him.
Without warning, Arthur grasped his wrist and pulled him into one of the spaces between two houses, theirs lips meeting haphazardly as Eames dropped his jacket and pressed his body against the point man. It was a rough kiss, but theirs often were, each of them fighting to maintain some kind of dominance, even if it meant resorting to little tricks like nipping teeth and groping hands. It didn’t go there this time. Eames was happy to concede and perfectly content to have Arthur’s tongue on his lips and in his mouth.
“Arthur,” he murmured, pulling back begrudgingly. Some of Arthur’s hair had come out of place, and Eames brushed it back, his hand resting on Arthur’s neck. “Someone might see.” In fact, it was highly probable that someone had seen, but this was a faraway truth-inconsequential.
“As if that’s ever stopped you,” said Arthur, curling his fingers in Eames’ pockets. His lips settled on Eames’ collarbone, and then his throat, and Eames smirked, angling Arthur’s face up for another languid kiss.
“That does it,” he said, pulling back after a few moments and putting some distance between himself and Arthur. He adjusted his shirt so that he didn’t look so thoroughly ravished, even if, secretly, he liked looking that way. “We’re going to need to call a cab.”
“A cab?” Arthur looked perplexed. “The hotel isn’t that much farther.”
“Let me put it this way: If we walk home, I will jump you.”
“Let’s get a cab.”
As Arthur picked up their jackets, slipping his own on and holding Eames’ up in front of him, he shot Eames one of his characteristic, skeptical expressions. “Don’t take any of this as proof that karma exists,” he said as Eames waved down a cab.
Eames' smile was unbearably Eames. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied. “You have to admit, though. If it does exist-hypothetically, of course-karma is not a bad idea. I never understood the American expression, something about karma being a bloke?”
“The correct term would be ‘bitch,’” Arthur explained, deprecatingly.
“Right. Well, either way, she can’t be that bad.”
“What makes you think karma is a female?”
“Exactly.”