Prompt Post No. 15
Welcome to Round 15 of the Inception Kink Meme.
Prompting System
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Life after that was not easy, but Arthur could feel himself start to heal. The summer after his mother died, they spent their time renovating the house. Iowa had been hit hard by the depression, but his mother’s family had been wealthy, and she had survived on the money as long as she could during her illness, though the house had fallen into disrepair. With what money remained, Eames and Arthur had torn down and rebuilt, had repainted inside and out, and for one terrifying week, Eames had scrambled around on the roof, pulling out loose shingles and replacing them, fixing the crumbling brick of the chimney. Though the view had been nice, Eames, shirtless and golden brown from the sun, grinning down at him backlit by a perfectly clear blue sky, it was not worth the constant terror Arthur felt as Eames sauntered to and fro, shingles shifting audibly beneath his feet.
Word had spread that Arthur Connolly, prodigal and beloved son of Waterloo had returned home, and people began to stop by. Arthur spent a good portion of the day shaking hands, trying to edge away from conversations with people from high school, and turning down the unsubtle flirtations of the town beauties so that he could get back to work. The renovations felt good. He still felt the presence of his parents strongly, but each new nail, each coat of paint felt like a rebirth. It was cleansing.
They met the Cobbs a few weeks after his mother’s death. They lived down the street and were new to the city, a husband and wife both as beautiful and intelligent as the other, and they became fast friends with Arthur and Eames. Mal was from France, and she bonded with Eames in a spirit of Diaspora over their ex-pat status, laughing as they woefully but jokingly bemoaned the State of Iowa and wished for the refined beauty of their former countries. Dom was more like Arthur, quieter and more stoic in relation to his exuberant wife, but still burning as bright in his own way. He was originally from Des Moines, but had transferred here to run the new branch of his Architectural firm. Mal taught French classes at the local high school, and Arthur could only imagine how the boys in those classes must swoon and sigh in her wake as she strolled down the hallways with her dancer’s grace. The evenings they didn’t spend quietly enjoying their privacy, wrapped up in each other, they spent with Dom and Mal, eating and laughing, sharing a bottle of wine, smoking out on the front porch, playing cards, and Arthur felt his world expanding.
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