Inception fic: soupe à l'oignon
Title: soupe à l'oignon
Words: 352
Rating: G
Pairings: Arthur/Eames
Disclaimer: Characters/etc. belong to Nolan.
(Full English version toward the bottom.)
Arthur roused from his nap slowly, the warmth of sleep and the heaviness of his heartbeat rendering him partial to staying in bed forever. A dull ache sat alongside his bones, though it was hardly noticeable when he held his pillow close to his face and breathed slowly. He felt hot, though not unpleasantly so.
A subtle creak indicated someone entering his room, but Arthur stayed pressed against his pillow. The bed dipped at his side and large, cool fingers brushed his forehead.
“Cold,” he mumbled, turning to completely obscure his face from view. A low chuckle rumbled through the air and the fingers ran through his hair.
“Tu as chaud, mon ange ?” was the response. “Comment ça va ?”
Arthur groaned quietly against his pillow. The fingers trailed down to rub soft circles on his back. “Body hurts,” he mumbled.
“Raconte-moi. Parle m’en.”
The words were almost lost on him; the hand on his back relaxed him even further. “Hungry,” he said after a moment.
He could hear Eames’ smile. “Quoi ?”
Arthur sighed. “J’ai faim.”
Eames’ hand ran alongside his spine, causing Arthur’s entire body to shiver. He pressed down firmly before standing up, the bed squeaking in protest. “Leve les yeux, j’ai une gâterie pour toi.”
The shuffling of feet on the wood floor distressed Arthur, but he turned over in bed, eyes opening blearily. Soon, a warm, soothing smell permeated the air. Arthur sat further up in bed, adjusting his pillows as he went.
Eames returned with a steaming bowl on a tray, accompanied by small crackers and a mug of what he assumed was tea.
“De la soupe à l'oignon,” he announced in a gentle tone. “Et du thé pour mon bébé.”
“Mmmm.” Arthur allowed Eames to set the tray down, flushing slightly when he pressed a kiss to Arthur’s brow in the process. He put a hand on Eames’ as the man stood straight again. “Merci, mon cher.”
Eames’ smile warmed Arthur from the inside out. “De rien,” was the simple response, and Eames leaned to kiss Arthur’s brow again. “Get better soon, darling.”
Full English
Arthur roused from his nap slowly, the warmth of sleep and the heaviness of his heartbeat rendering him partial to staying in bed forever. A dull ache sat alongside his bones, though it was hardly noticeable when he held his pillow close to his face and breathed slowly. He felt hot, though not unpleasantly so.
A subtle creak indicated someone entering his room, but Arthur stayed pressed against his pillow. The bed dipped at his side and large, cool fingers brushed his forehead.
“Cold,” he mumbled, turning to completely obscure his face from view. A low chuckle rumbled through the air and the fingers ran through his hair.
"You're warm, my angel?" was the response. “How are you?"
Arthur groaned quietly against his pillow. The fingers trailed down to rub soft circles on his back. “Body hurts,” he mumbled.
“Tell me. Talk to me about it.”
The words were almost lost on him; the hand on his back relaxed him even further. “Hungry,” he said after a moment.
He could hear Eames’ smile. “What?”
Arthur sighed. “I'm hungry.”
Eames’ hand ran alongside his spine, causing Arthur’s entire body to shiver. He pressed down firmly before standing up, the bed squeaking in protest. “Look up, I have a treat for you.”
The shuffling of feet on the wood floor distressed Arthur, but he turned over in bed, eyes opening blearily. Soon, a warm, soothing smell permeated the air. Arthur sat further up in bed, adjusting his pillows as he went.
Eames returned with a steaming bowl on a tray, accompanied by small crackers and a mug of what he assumed was tea.
“French onion soup,” he announced in a gentle tone. “And tea for my baby.”
“Mmmm.” Arthur allowed Eames to set the tray down, flushing slightly when he pressed a kiss to Arthur’s brow in the process. He put a hand on Eames’ as the man stood straight again. “Thank you, dear.”
Eames’ smile warmed Arthur from the inside out. “It's nothing,” was the simple response, and Eames leaned to kiss Arthur’s brow again. “Get better soon, darling.”
*
Words: 352
Rating: G
Pairings: Arthur/Eames
Disclaimer: Characters/etc. belong to Nolan.
(Full English version toward the bottom.)
Arthur roused from his nap slowly, the warmth of sleep and the heaviness of his heartbeat rendering him partial to staying in bed forever. A dull ache sat alongside his bones, though it was hardly noticeable when he held his pillow close to his face and breathed slowly. He felt hot, though not unpleasantly so.
A subtle creak indicated someone entering his room, but Arthur stayed pressed against his pillow. The bed dipped at his side and large, cool fingers brushed his forehead.
“Cold,” he mumbled, turning to completely obscure his face from view. A low chuckle rumbled through the air and the fingers ran through his hair.
“Tu as chaud, mon ange ?” was the response. “Comment ça va ?”
Arthur groaned quietly against his pillow. The fingers trailed down to rub soft circles on his back. “Body hurts,” he mumbled.
“Raconte-moi. Parle m’en.”
The words were almost lost on him; the hand on his back relaxed him even further. “Hungry,” he said after a moment.
He could hear Eames’ smile. “Quoi ?”
Arthur sighed. “J’ai faim.”
Eames’ hand ran alongside his spine, causing Arthur’s entire body to shiver. He pressed down firmly before standing up, the bed squeaking in protest. “Leve les yeux, j’ai une gâterie pour toi.”
The shuffling of feet on the wood floor distressed Arthur, but he turned over in bed, eyes opening blearily. Soon, a warm, soothing smell permeated the air. Arthur sat further up in bed, adjusting his pillows as he went.
Eames returned with a steaming bowl on a tray, accompanied by small crackers and a mug of what he assumed was tea.
“De la soupe à l'oignon,” he announced in a gentle tone. “Et du thé pour mon bébé.”
“Mmmm.” Arthur allowed Eames to set the tray down, flushing slightly when he pressed a kiss to Arthur’s brow in the process. He put a hand on Eames’ as the man stood straight again. “Merci, mon cher.”
Eames’ smile warmed Arthur from the inside out. “De rien,” was the simple response, and Eames leaned to kiss Arthur’s brow again. “Get better soon, darling.”
Full English
Arthur roused from his nap slowly, the warmth of sleep and the heaviness of his heartbeat rendering him partial to staying in bed forever. A dull ache sat alongside his bones, though it was hardly noticeable when he held his pillow close to his face and breathed slowly. He felt hot, though not unpleasantly so.
A subtle creak indicated someone entering his room, but Arthur stayed pressed against his pillow. The bed dipped at his side and large, cool fingers brushed his forehead.
“Cold,” he mumbled, turning to completely obscure his face from view. A low chuckle rumbled through the air and the fingers ran through his hair.
"You're warm, my angel?" was the response. “How are you?"
Arthur groaned quietly against his pillow. The fingers trailed down to rub soft circles on his back. “Body hurts,” he mumbled.
“Tell me. Talk to me about it.”
The words were almost lost on him; the hand on his back relaxed him even further. “Hungry,” he said after a moment.
He could hear Eames’ smile. “What?”
Arthur sighed. “I'm hungry.”
Eames’ hand ran alongside his spine, causing Arthur’s entire body to shiver. He pressed down firmly before standing up, the bed squeaking in protest. “Look up, I have a treat for you.”
The shuffling of feet on the wood floor distressed Arthur, but he turned over in bed, eyes opening blearily. Soon, a warm, soothing smell permeated the air. Arthur sat further up in bed, adjusting his pillows as he went.
Eames returned with a steaming bowl on a tray, accompanied by small crackers and a mug of what he assumed was tea.
“French onion soup,” he announced in a gentle tone. “And tea for my baby.”
“Mmmm.” Arthur allowed Eames to set the tray down, flushing slightly when he pressed a kiss to Arthur’s brow in the process. He put a hand on Eames’ as the man stood straight again. “Thank you, dear.”
Eames’ smile warmed Arthur from the inside out. “It's nothing,” was the simple response, and Eames leaned to kiss Arthur’s brow again. “Get better soon, darling.”
*