Prompt Post No. 15
Welcome to Round 15 of the Inception Kink Meme.
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 later, post will reopen to new prompts and permanently close to all new prompts ( Read more... )
Arthur has absolutely no interest in sawing double buck. He’s single buck, always has been; his saw is six foot four, and if you think he’s too short to handle it on his own you don’t know who he is.
So there was no need for a partner, and if he were to have a partner, it certainly wouldn’t be some upstart hot saw competitor who does chainsaw art on the side.
Because really, fuck. Chainsaws are so inelegant.
When Cobb brought the whole thing up Arthur just sat very still and looked at him, trying to convey with the ineffable depths of his eyes how supremely dumb Cobb was, and, by extension, this idea.
“It would just be for exhibition,” Cobb said.
“He’s really very good,” Cobb said.
“He’s making me a chainsaw bear for the front porch,” Cobb said.
“He’s friends with Ariadne,” Cobb said.
“Well of course he’s friends with Ariadne, isn’t he?” Arthur muttered. “Chainsaw artists.”
“That’s all you have to say about this?” Cobb asked, and Arthur got up to leave.
“Yes,” Arthur said.
“Ass,” Cobb called after him.
Cobb is the director of the local forestry club, and he’s into fostering community and educating the public about loggersports and shit. Arthur is into winning the Lumberjack World Championships.
They’re kind of friends, except when Cobb comes up with dumbass ideas like this.
Arthur only competes in single buck, but he likes to throw hatchets in his spare time. He went out behind Cobb’s house and did that, than, and then Cobb shows up, like he usually did, looking mopey.
“That’s a nice pine,” he said, frowning.
“Just be glad I didn’t go for your precious sugar maple,” Arthur told him, dislodging the hatchet and going back for another throw.
“Don’t fuck with the sugar maples,” Cobb said. “If I have to buy syrup, ever, you have to pay.”
“I’ll buy you Aunt Jemima,” Arthur said, and Cobb made a retching noise.
“Seriously, though, someday you’re going to do this and take off one of the kids’ heads or something.”
“Do you doubt my aim, Cobb? You could put an apple on your head and I could cut it in half. I’m fucking William Tell.”
“Has anyone ever told you you’re an ass?” Cobb said, and Arthur shrugged.
“You. All the time. Most recently just now, when I refused to go along with your stupid double buck scheme.” He threw the hatchet again.
“Double buck is so much faster than single buck, Arthur. It’s a crowd pleaser.”
“Like hot saw?”
“Your hatred of chain saws is extremely unreasonable,” Cobb said.
“They’re inelegant,” Arthur said. “They’re contrary to the spirit of the sport.”
Arthur had thought that conversation ended that day in Cobb’s backyard, but now there’s a crunch on the gravel drive and Cobb’s truck is pulling up his driveway with someone Arthur doesn’t know is riding shotgun.
It has to be Cobb, anyone, because no one else has the combination to the padlock at the other end of Arthur’s driveway.
When the other man gets out, he’s wearing buffalo plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up past his elbows, exposing muscular forearms, and it’s got to be hot saw. Muscles like that only come from hefting around jacked up snowmachine engines, in this business.
“I knew I should never have given you the combination to my gate,” Arthur says.
“Arthur,” Cobb says. “This is Eames.”
“I’ve heard so much about you,” Eames says, extending his hand.
“I can’t say the same,” Arthur says as he takes the hand, and gives Eames a look that’s intended to be whithering. Eames squeezes hard, when he shakes.
“He’s lying,” Cobb says. “I told him you were making me a chainsaw bear.”
Arthur scowls at Cobb, but it’s really not worth it, because Cobb is practically immune.
“I’m not interesting in sawing double buck,” Arthur says, looking directly at Eames. “Welcome to our club.”
“Charmed,” says Eames, and his face splits into a grin.
Arthur is pretty sure there’s nothing charming about it.
Reply
Actually, it’s not so much running into one another as a standing appointment, because Ariadne and Arthur have breakfast together most mornings, but he likes to pretend they don’t. She does use a chainsaw, after all.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Arthur says.
“You really need to get over your unreasonable hatred of chainsaws,” Ariadne says.
“They smell awful,” Arthur tells her.
“I thought they smelled like sunshine and daisies,” Ariadne saws brightly. “And I know you think they’re inelegant, but you have to admit I have a pretty snazzy little Stihl.”
“Whatever,” Arthur says, and Ariadne pats him on the back.
“Don’t sulk,” she says. “I know you like the moose I made you.”
The moose is, admittedly, pretty wicked. It’s life size.
“What’s a Brit doing sawing hot saw?” Arthur asks, and Ariadne’s lips quirk into a grin.
“Winning,” she says. “You’d like him.”
“I don’t only like winners,” Arthur says.
“No,” she says. “But you only fuck winners.”
Arthur pushes his last biscuit across his plate. Ariadne laughs.
“Do you want me to eat that for you?” she asks.
“No,” Arthur says, and stuffs most of it in his mouth at once. Ariadne laughs at him again, and Arthur remembers why he never gave Ariadne the code to his gate. Although she usually just parks at the end of the drive and hops over it, but at least that doesn’t mess up the gravel too bad.
“This is why I never gave you the code to my gate,” he tells her.
“Whatever,” she says. “You act like there’s not a four wheeler trail through your backyard.”
“There isn’t,” Arthur says. “Because I have a shotgun.”
“You’re such an old man.”
There’s really nothing Arthur can say to that.
“How’s the commission coming?” he asks, instead. Ariadne’s working on a pair of matched lions for a local trailer park.
“Speaking of,” she says. “I need to get back to work. Tomorrow?”
Arthur doesn’t respond, which is his usual response.
more tomorrow, probably.
Reply
Reply
I love this prompt probably more than I should.
Reply
And Cobb is so damn pretentious. The least pretentious thing he says is calling Arthur an ass. Oh, it's just how I like my Arthur and Cobb. I love the line about them being friends, sometimes. I'm not even done reading, but I just stumbled across this line--
"Arthur only competes in single buck, but he likes to throw hatchets in his spare time." And I had to squee! Off to finish the rest.
Reply
Reply
It turned out Arthur was slightly off in that assessment. And, also, Eames had apparently snitched the gate code off of Cobb, because there’s truck that’s not Cobb’s or Arthur’s in the drive when Arthur gets back, and Eames is sitting in one of this Adirondack chairs.
“Good morning, Arthur,” Eames says.
“Eames,” Arthur says with a curt nod. “I don’t really have time right now.”
Eames gets up and prowls over, and then he stands very close to Arthur and just looks at him.
They’re of height, but Eames is broader than Arthur, and up close his eyes are blue and Arthur isn’t sure if he could take him in a fight.
Which sucks, because Arthur likes to know whether he can take people in fights, if the need arises. It’s not like he gets into a lot of brawls at the bar, but. Well, Cobb would beg to differ.
“So you don’t want to saw double buck,” Eames says after a moment. His voice is low, and Arthur tries not to look at his lips, which are full and thick and seem to move slower than they need to, to make the words come out.
“No,” Arthur says.
“Well that’s good,” Eames says. “Because neither do I.”
“Okay,” Arthur says.
“We’re in agreement then?” Eames asks, and Arthur nods.
“Yes,” Arthur says.
And then Eames leaves, and Arthur feels like he’s somehow being manipulated, though he can’t put his finger on how.
He calls up Cobb when he gets inside.
“Cobb,” he says. “Eames doesn’t want to saw double buck.”
He can hear Cobb mumbling over the line, but there’s no actual talking.
“Cobb,” he repeats.
“He used to saw double buck,” Cobb says.
“So, what, I’m not good enough?” Arthur asks.
“Does it matter? Now you can get out of this and go back to being totally unhelpful to the cause.”
“What is the cause exactly?”
“Educating people about the lumberjack arts,” Cobb says tightly.
“I’m good,” Arthur says. “That’s education enough.”
Then he hangs up. Or maybe Cobb does. Semantics.
“Eames doesn’t even want to saw double buck,” Arthur tells Ariadne at breakfast the next morning.
She sighs.
“You really need to talk with Eames about that,” she says.
“I did talk to Eames about it! He said he doesn’t want to saw double buck!”
“No,” she says. “I mean you really should talk to Eames about that, before you come to me acting all offended.”
“I’m not offended,” Arthur says.
“You totally are,” she says. “Which is why we’re going to change the subject now, and talk about what you’re going to do for the exhibition at the county fair.”
“Nothing. Cobb knows that.”
Arthur hates the county fair, for several reasons he doesn’t want to talk about right now.
“You could at least do some hatchet throwing,” Ariadne suggests, and Arthur raises an eyebrow.
“Hatchet throwing,” he says. “Is not an actual lumbersport.”
“No, but it’s cool and you’re good at it.”
Arthur frowns, because he’s not sure if he should run with the compliment or attack the implication that single buck is not cool. Because obviously he’s also good at that.
“Did Cobb put you up to this?” he asks.
“God no. You know Cobb hates your hatchet throwing.”
Which is also true.
“I’ll think about it,” Arthur says, and Ariadne nods.
The county fair is the next weekend, at a park down by the river. Ariadne will sell chainsaw art and do demonstrations, and Eames probably will, too, now that he’s here, and Arthur is will to bet that Cobb will weasel a stock saw demonstration out of him. Cobb and Mal will do some underhand demos, and Yusuf will set up a booth selling Stihls, and Arthur will try to come up with reasons not to go.
Reply
“I’ll pay for your ticket to the demo derby,” Cobb offers.
“Ariadne suggested I could do some hatchet throwing.”
Cobb frowns.
“I’ll let you do a hatchet throwing demonstration,” Cobb says. “As long as there are no children around.”
“What the fuck Cobb? We’re right off the midway. There are always children around.”
“Fine,” Cobb growls.
“Fine what?”
“Fine, you can do a hatchet throwing demonstration, but you have to do it in the cage.”
“The cage isn’t big enough,” Arthur says. “No one wants to see someone throw a hatchet four feet. Besides, Ariadne needs it.”
Cobb sighs.
“I’m not going to get sued because you whack some kid in the skull, Arthur.”
“If I whack some kid in the skull,” Arthur says. “I’m pretty sure I’d have more problems than a lawsuit.”
“So?”
“It’s not going to happen, Cobb. It’s going to be no more dangerous than the goddamn Zipper.”
Arthur’s feelings about the Zipper are up there with his feelings about chainsaws, and by ‘up there’ he means ‘down there, and negative.’
“Fine,” Cobb says. “We’ll figure something out. But you have to come and talk to people at the table.”
Arthur hates talking to people at the table, but Cobb knows that already, and if Arthur says anything about it, Cobb will just bring up the possibility that Arthur needs to go to anger management.
Arthur slathers on sunscreen before he goes over to the fairgrounds, because there’s nothing worse than getting a sunburn at the stupid county fair.
When he gets there Ariadne and Eames are doing some sort of duelling chainsaws thing in their respect cages, and Eames is wearing overalls. And nothing else. He’s undone the bib so it falls loose around his legs, so his chest is bare and gleaming with sweat, and the overalls are slipping down over the curve of his ass.
It’s vulgar, and also unsafe. Arthur hopes he gets a million splinters.
Mal is sitting at their table wearing a sunhat with James on her lap, and Arthur goes to over to sit down next to her, grateful for the shade.
“Eames is inappropriate,” he says, and Mal arches an eyebrow at him.
“I was rather thinking you’d enjoyed the view.”
“Shut up,” Arthur says. “He’s going to get so many splinters.”
“Perhaps you could help him take them out,” Mal suggests.
Arthur remembers, now, why he usually complains about things to Cobb.
“How’s James doing?” he says, instead, and Mal beams.
“You learn quickly, Arthur dear,” she says, and begins a long monologue about James’ first word.
“Where’s Phillipa?” Arthur asks, finally, because he’s always liked larger children, better.
“With her father, in the poultry building,” Mal says, and Arthur gets up to leave.
Only then Eames is coming out of his cage, because apparently the eagle he was making is finished.
“Hey, Arthur,” he says, wiping sweat from his brow.
“Put on some clothes,” Arthur says, and leaves.
Arthur fails to find Cobb and Phillipa, but he spends a lot of time watching pigs sleep and letting a girl in 4-H blather on about her goat.
Reply
“This better, darling?” Eames asks, when Arthur sits down.
“Don’t you get splinters working like that?” Arthur asks, and Eames just grins.
“I have very thick skin,” Eames says. Which is absurd.
“You’re going to get a sunburn,” Arthur tells him, and looks at the pamphlets Cobb had spread out across the table.
“I’m glad you’re so concerned for my welfare.”
“I’m not,” Arthur says, and picks up a pamphlet to read it.
Eames is watching him.
“Why don’t you want to saw double buck?” Arthur asks.
“Why don’t you?”
“Because I compete alone.”
“So do I,” Eames says.
“Cobb says you used to--”
“Gossiping about me, were you?” Eames asks, and then some teenager wearing too much make-up appears to flirt with Eames, and Arthur makes a point of ignoring them both.
“She seemed very interested in the lumberjack arts,” Arthur says, when she leaves.
“Jealous?” Eames asks, and Arthur frowns.
“Of that jailbait? Never,” Arthur says, and Eames stops to look at him.
“I meant of me,” Eames says, raising an eyebrow, and Arthur can feel himself blushing, and almost wishes he had foregone the sunscreen, just to have an excuse.
“My old double buck partner screwed me over,” Eames says, now, and Arthur nods and then they don’t talk any more.
When Cobb returns he sets Arthur up for the hatchet throwing demo, which is kind of a relief. The rig up a chain-link fence and have the audience stand back, like Arthur was going to miss or something. Which he so wasn’t.
He draws a reasonable crowd, and when he gets back to the table Ariadne is there, and Eames has gone back to the chainsaw.
“So,” Ariadne says. “Enjoying the gun show?”
Arthur scowls at her.
“He’s going to get sunburned,” he says.
Ariadne laughs at him, and goes to buy them both Hawaiian ice. Arthur always gets half cherry, half lime, and when Eames comes out of the cage again he purses his lips and frowns, like Cobb.
“What happened to your mouth?” he asks Arthur.
“We made out,” Ariadne tells him with a completely straight face, and Arthur glares at her.
“Hawaiian ice,” he says. “Red dye number 40.”
“It looks good on you,” Eames says, and Arthur gapes at him as he walks away.
“I can’t believe you like that guy,” Arthur says to Ariadne when he’s gone, and Ariadne laughs at him until Mal and Cobb get back and relieve them both of their table minding duties.
“We should ride the Zipper,” Ariadne says, and Arthur frowns.
“You know how I feel about the Zipper,” he says.
“How do you feel about the Zipper?” calls a voice from behind them, and of course it’s Eames.
“Arthur hates it,” Ariadne informs him, and then they both look at Arthur.
“Afraid?” Eames asks, and Arthur scowls.
“No,” he says.
So they end up in line for the Zipper, and then a carnie jams all three of them into a car together, with Arthur in the middle. He can feel the bulge of Eames' thighs against his, and Ariadne is tiny but apparently she takes up too much space, and then they're spinning around madly and Arthur wants to puke. He settles for squeezing Ariadne's hand until she screams.
"Darling," Eames whispers from his other side. "Hold mine. I can take it."
Eames' hand is big and warm and rough, and Arthur hopes he splits some bones.
For some reason the man minding the ride is too busy chewing on a cigarette butt to notice them, and they end up going around a second time, and then something happens and they end up stuck at the top.
"This," Arthur hisses to the population of the cab in general. "Is why I hate the Zipper."
"Aw," Eames says, squeezing his thigh. "We'll get out eventually."
"Stop invading my personal space," Arthur says.
When they do get out, Arthur pukes technicolor in a trashcan that smells like shit, and Eames walks him back to his car.
"Tomorrow?" Eames says, and Arthur gives him a look he hopes conveys death.
"Only because it's the demo derby," he says.
Reply
Also, I love how you're writing Arthur:
Then he hangs up. Or maybe Cobb does. Semantics.
Anon, you're amazing, and I'm really looking forward to reading the rest of this!
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
I LOVE YOU
I LOVE YOU
I LOVE YOU SO MUCH
OH MY GOD MEMORIES OF MY ENTIRE LIFE ARE FLOODING BACK TO ME
THE ZIPPER
DOUBLE BUCK
HATCHET THROWING
THE BIB OF HIS OVERALLS, OF COURSE HE'S GOING TO GET SUNBURNT, WHO DOES HE THINK HE IS.
DO YOU MIND IF I REC THE SHIT OUT OF THIS?
<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3
Reply
AND OF COURSE EAMES IS GOING TO GET SUNBURNT, THE DUMBASS.
I should be posting another bit tonight. IT WILL BE THE DEMO DERBY.
Reply
OMG I WILL TAKE YOUR TICKETS ARTHUR AND ENJOY THE FUCK OUT OF THEM!!! YES I WILL!!!
Reply
Leave a comment