a holiday ficlet, starring Eames
For those following AIM rp shenanigans, this will make the most sense, as that's what I had in mind writing it. For those who don't, however, feel free to think of this as an Inception ficlet with Arthur/Eames/Ariadne (OT3 hell yeaaaah) vibes, because I can't help myself. XD
tl;dr EAMES BUYS PRESENTS. A bit angsty, I guess? Only... not really? i-idk.
He spies the first when he’s out with Ariadne, opening doors for her and twirling her around in the light dusting of snow. She has so much life in her, with her red and gold scarves, even when sitting still, engrossed in a sketch or a model. She makes them live, creates them as silent works and breathes life, music, breathes existence and soul into them like some primordial goddess of creation, and he…
Well. He’s been a forger for so long that sometimes it’s hard to remember that the people he creates are masks, sometimes hideous, sometimes beautiful, and that there is something real and just as elaborate underneath. She helps him remember that.
She’s ducked off into a fitting room at his request and it gives him the time to notice the piece, to examine it with… well, with the eye of a forger and a thief. He has a feeling some (Arthur) would call it tacky.
He buys it anyway, slipping it into his pocket before Ariadne reappears, and they continue on.
--
He’s half-drunk on tequila when he remembers to take it out of his pocket, to slip it away into a well-concealed location to hide it from the man sleeping next to him. It’s been a rough day; he may be exposed soon, and every nerve in his body is straining, is screaming run, run, run, Eames, run (and the man asleep at his side knows it), but he doesn’t run.
He has this safehouse, out of reach of the law, and he won’t leave them. He can’t leave them, not yet. Maybe not ever, at least not without severe heartbreak (and he doesn’t know who will have the worst time of it). Life has been breathed into him by a girl with caramel eyes and he’s grown, branches spreading, leaves unfurling, and roots digging deep into the heart of a sharply-dressed man, craving the way he’s fed, nourished - cared for.
If he isn’t careful, those angles will cut him deep. But he doesn’t think about that, instead tracing his finger over the pendant (gold, circular, with diamonds), though he does whisper “Something to remember me by.”
Funny, for a man who works best by being forgotten. (Ariadne, he thinks, would say that that’s why he is the way he is when he can be - loud, a bit obnoxious, lewd, and so on. Maybe it is. He’s good at watching people, but he’s never been good at looking in the mirror - all he can see is somebody else.)
--
He gets more gifts, of course. Several paisley ties, as a joke, because he’s always being picked on for his love of the pattern (not by Ariadne, of course; she has a few paisley scarves herself). A Zen garden, somewhere between a joke and a plea to relax, complete with tiny ceramic birds. None of them are wanting for money, but he’s always been bad at gift-giving; gag gifts are more his style, but they won’t quite make the cut. Not this time. He finally settles on a gorgeous coat for Ariadne, and if he slips a bracelet into the pocket, well. It’s only a matter of time until she finds it.
Then he gets the call. None of them need to take it, not after the Inception job. Something about this one, though, catches his interest. The employer is an art collector, hiring a team to extract information from a museum curator to find out if the man had hired a team to steal a priceless artifact from his collection and replace it with a fake. Breaking the law to find out if the law has been broken - it’s the sort of irony that Eames can get behind.
Besides, all this sitting in one spot, staying in one apartment for the length of time that he has without more than casual poker games to keep his interest… he’s not used to it. He’s restless.
He takes the job without the others, with whatever team the art collector has already assembled. It should be easy, after all.
Should be.
He wraps and labels all the presents before leaving, just in case.
--
On a note attached to a box with a poker chip pendant, five paisley ties, and a Zen garden:
In case jobs, time, or something else ever takes us apart, you’ll always have me with you. Relax. There’s nothing wrong with being a bit colorful.
Attached to a bracelet, slipped inside the pocket of a coat:
Because your dress for the holidays is beautiful, and so are you. Wear this bracelet to match, and wear the coat so only a select few can see just how beautiful.
tl;dr EAMES BUYS PRESENTS. A bit angsty, I guess? Only... not really? i-idk.
He spies the first when he’s out with Ariadne, opening doors for her and twirling her around in the light dusting of snow. She has so much life in her, with her red and gold scarves, even when sitting still, engrossed in a sketch or a model. She makes them live, creates them as silent works and breathes life, music, breathes existence and soul into them like some primordial goddess of creation, and he…
Well. He’s been a forger for so long that sometimes it’s hard to remember that the people he creates are masks, sometimes hideous, sometimes beautiful, and that there is something real and just as elaborate underneath. She helps him remember that.
She’s ducked off into a fitting room at his request and it gives him the time to notice the piece, to examine it with… well, with the eye of a forger and a thief. He has a feeling some (Arthur) would call it tacky.
He buys it anyway, slipping it into his pocket before Ariadne reappears, and they continue on.
--
He’s half-drunk on tequila when he remembers to take it out of his pocket, to slip it away into a well-concealed location to hide it from the man sleeping next to him. It’s been a rough day; he may be exposed soon, and every nerve in his body is straining, is screaming run, run, run, Eames, run (and the man asleep at his side knows it), but he doesn’t run.
He has this safehouse, out of reach of the law, and he won’t leave them. He can’t leave them, not yet. Maybe not ever, at least not without severe heartbreak (and he doesn’t know who will have the worst time of it). Life has been breathed into him by a girl with caramel eyes and he’s grown, branches spreading, leaves unfurling, and roots digging deep into the heart of a sharply-dressed man, craving the way he’s fed, nourished - cared for.
If he isn’t careful, those angles will cut him deep. But he doesn’t think about that, instead tracing his finger over the pendant (gold, circular, with diamonds), though he does whisper “Something to remember me by.”
Funny, for a man who works best by being forgotten. (Ariadne, he thinks, would say that that’s why he is the way he is when he can be - loud, a bit obnoxious, lewd, and so on. Maybe it is. He’s good at watching people, but he’s never been good at looking in the mirror - all he can see is somebody else.)
--
He gets more gifts, of course. Several paisley ties, as a joke, because he’s always being picked on for his love of the pattern (not by Ariadne, of course; she has a few paisley scarves herself). A Zen garden, somewhere between a joke and a plea to relax, complete with tiny ceramic birds. None of them are wanting for money, but he’s always been bad at gift-giving; gag gifts are more his style, but they won’t quite make the cut. Not this time. He finally settles on a gorgeous coat for Ariadne, and if he slips a bracelet into the pocket, well. It’s only a matter of time until she finds it.
Then he gets the call. None of them need to take it, not after the Inception job. Something about this one, though, catches his interest. The employer is an art collector, hiring a team to extract information from a museum curator to find out if the man had hired a team to steal a priceless artifact from his collection and replace it with a fake. Breaking the law to find out if the law has been broken - it’s the sort of irony that Eames can get behind.
Besides, all this sitting in one spot, staying in one apartment for the length of time that he has without more than casual poker games to keep his interest… he’s not used to it. He’s restless.
He takes the job without the others, with whatever team the art collector has already assembled. It should be easy, after all.
Should be.
He wraps and labels all the presents before leaving, just in case.
--
On a note attached to a box with a poker chip pendant, five paisley ties, and a Zen garden:
In case jobs, time, or something else ever takes us apart, you’ll always have me with you. Relax. There’s nothing wrong with being a bit colorful.
Attached to a bracelet, slipped inside the pocket of a coat:
Because your dress for the holidays is beautiful, and so are you. Wear this bracelet to match, and wear the coat so only a select few can see just how beautiful.