Prompt Post No. 13
Welcome to Round 13 of the Inception Kink Meme. This post will be closed to new prompts once it reaches five thousand comments.
New Prompting System
- Prompt post will temporarily close to new prompts at 2000 comments.
- Forty-eight hours later, post will reopen to new prompts and temporarily close again when 4000 comments are reached.
- Forty-eight hours ( Read more... )
Warnings: I'm a hearing person with no experience with deaf culture or issues. In this fic Arthur became deaf postlingually and does not consider himself culturally Deaf. I did my best with internet research, but you know how that goes...
The skylight seemed perfectly solid Eames eased his weight out across it. And even if it wasn't, he didn't have much choice; they'd been cut off from the rest of the building's exits by Monsanto's goons. Ariadne had made it out with the PASIV machine and the information, but he and Arthur had been left to ... improvise.
“Eames, wait,” Arthur said, half a body length ahead of him, the toes of his shoes braced against the glass. “I have some doubts about the structural integrity.”
“Interesting point you raise,” Eames said. “But I'm more worried about my bodily integrity if Monsanto's men catch up to us. Besides, this glass is tempered.”
“I'm not worried about the glass, I'm worried about the hing--” which was when the hinge locking the panel into place shrieked and gave out.
Eames had a moment to be unspeakably grateful that someone had thoughtfully put an Olympic-sized swimming pool below the skylight before he hit the water. The sting of impact stunned him for a moment and then instinct took over and he thrashed his way to the surface, to take a gulping breath.
“Bloody hell,” he said and began treading water, his shoes like blocks of cement.
Arthur was already at the ladder, hauling himself up, splashing a great deal of water out over the tiled mosaics of the floor. Huge potted palms were set at regular intervals along the walls of the room. He made it to the side of the pool and heaved himself awkwardly over the side, the sharp chlorine burned his eyes and the back of his throat. He'd always hated swimming.
“Shame I didn't bring my bathers,” Eames said, jogging to catch up to Arthur, who'd already at the exit -- a glass door leading out onto another patio area and yet another swimming pool, this one kidney shaped with a waterfall at one end. “Please tell me you packed your Speedo.”
But Arthur ignored this as he checked the coast and, establishing it clear, drew his gun from the holster at his shoulder. He motioned for Eames to follow him. Eames did so, keeping quiet as they skirted the perimeter. The floodlights were bright enough to cast sharp shadows. Arthur gave Eames a boost over the wrought iron fence, which was a bit embarrassing, but probably less embarrassing than having Arthur watch him attempt to make it on his own.
“Do you think we've got time to go back to the hotel and change before we're to meet Ariadne?” Eames asked when they were back on the Strip, hidden in the sea of tourists. Arthur didn't even look back or check his determined stride.
Eames sped up a little. “Arthur? You can see my nipples through my shirt. I can't be seen like this in polite company -- not that it will be polite company. Arthur, are you listening to me?” Arthur made no indication he's heard; no snort, no rolled eyes, nothing. “Look, if you're giving me the silent treatment, it's going to be nothing but a relief.” Still nothing. “Okay, all right, christ. You were right about the bloody skylight. There, happy?”
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