The Things People Don't Notice
Title: The Things People Don't Notice
Author: jenna_marianne
Fandom: Inception
Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Rating: PG-13
Length: 2,304 words
Genre: AU, crack
Summary: Unbeknownst to Arthur, he and Eames, the strange man who propositions him with fruit, share a past. This is a sequel to " The Things Some People Will Do For Attention," the sexy groceries story. A partial fill for the inception_kink Circus!AU prompt.
“So, this is the strangest proposition I’ve ever had,” said Arthur as they strolled along the street, away from the grocery store.
“Do you get many? I’m not unique?” said Eames, displaying his teeth in a wide grin.
“Oh, you’re unique,” Arthur rolled his eyes, “and, no, not many at all.”
“Would you even notice if you did?” asked Eames, gently poking him in the side with an elbow.
“I noticed you,” said Arthur as he nudged him back with his shoulder.
“Yes, after being completely oblivious to my advances, it took wearing outlandish clothing and propositioning you via fruit. You probably get hit on constantly.”
“What made my attention so important to have?” Arthur asked. Eames started to leer, and Arthur cut him off with a pointed finger, “and don’t say my ‘good looks.’” he said, complete with air quotes, “That doesn’t explain your months-long persistence.”
Eames ducked his head down, looking uncomfortable for the first time Arthur could recall. “We’ve met before, you know.” Arthur nodded. “No, not in the store, at school.”
“School?” said Arthur, flabbergasted.
“You really are hopelessly oblivious, aren’t you,” said Eames with a fond look, shaking his head.
“So we met once years ago, you ran into me at the grocery store and decided it was time to woo me via poor fashion and suggestive purchases? What am I missing?” Arthur said with narrowed eyes. He didn’t like missing important details.
The strange ease between them was fading into a tense discomfort. To work off the nervous energy, Arthur pulled the two kiwis out of his jacket pocket and started juggling idly. Eames looked so delighted, that Arthur switched to cascading the kiwis in one hand while he fished out the banana, then threw it in the mix.
“Oh, Arthur, you haven’t changed,” said Eames, laughing.
“Okay, that’s getting on my nerves now. Refresh my evidently poor memory,” said Arthur, ignoring the handful of people that had stopped to watch, admiring his complex fruit juggling.
“All right, how’s this?” said Eames, then started patting the air in a strangely familiar pattern, in front of him, to the side, above...as if he were in a box. Then he opened the invisible box, and proceeded to put on an amazing mime routine: he pulled on an endless rope until he lost traction and fell down, he walked against the wind, basically every advanced mime trick in the book.
“Bippy,” murmured Arthur. His jaw had dropped somewhere along the line, though his well-trained hands continued their juggling by rote. Then Eames stuck his hand out in a distinctive way, and Arthur automatically threw him one kiwi, then the other, then the banana, over and over. That was just the start;soon their shoes were taken off, one-by-one, and joined the flying fruit, then a water bottle provided by a member of their ever growing audience, then a hat, an apple, some keys. Next they were doing flips and turns, all while still juggling.
No wonder Arthur hadn’t recognized him. His former classmate from the Parisian School of Clowning had been in an immersive mime program: no talking, perpetual white face paint, only allowed to wear clothing in black and white (stripes up top, solid black below). Not to mention that Eames, formerly known by the nom de scène Bippy, had been much leaner. He’d bulked up since then, as well as gaining a tan and discarding the beret.
They’d been teamed up for their final project--Arthur the acrobat and juggler with Bippy the mime and juggler--a show which included juggling, acrobatics, fire-eating, tight-rope work, and clowning. The collaboration and resulting performances had been the height of Arthur’s career--if you gauged it by either how much fun he’d had or by audience reaction--up until his partner had disappeared.
Exhilaration coursed through Arthur. The supermarket job paid the bills, and allowed him to squirrel away a good savings, while he lived for the evenings and weekends when he performed on the streets, in parks, any venue he could get. But nothing compared to the fluid give and take between them right now, anticipating each others moves. Neither could stop smiling.
The crowd was clapping enthusiastically. Eames flipped the donated ballcap onto the ground, and skillfully called for donations to their dinner. They wrapped up the show, returning the borrowed items, this lady’s iphone and that man’s keys and a little girls apple, until all that was left were the original kiwis and banana. They put their shoes back on, took a bow, thanked the audience and entered the Italian resturant down the road.
After they’d been seated at a candle-lit table, watching each other over the red and white checkered expanse, Arthur finally asked what had been bothering him for years. “Where have you been? Why did you suddenly disappear after our last performance.”
“I couldn’t do it anymore. All that silence, all that face paint. No color in my life. I couldn’t talk to anyone about it,” Arthur nodded, understanding the solemn vows of silence that the mimes in their program had taken so seriously. “I stayed until our final was over; I couldn’t let you down, but after that...” Eames shook his head ruefully, “after that, I went to find myself. I worked as a clown, a busker. Did a bit of a strong man show in a carnival. I did anything I could that was loud and colorful. I made up for the years of quiet.”
“And did you? Find yourself?” asked Arthur, leaning against one fist, elbow on the table.
“Yes and no,” said Eames, then chuckled at Arthur’s skeptical upraised brow. “God, there was a reason I picked miming; I’m dreadful when talking about things that matter. Why do you think I propositioned you with groceries.”
Arthur chuckled, “I think you’re doing okay so far. Go on.”
“Right. So, leaving mummery was the right choice. I could go through the paces as well as the next person, but all the rules were stifling. Branching out was great. I even did a stint in Cirque du Soleil. But all that experimenting, and I still wasn’t happy. I looked back at my life, tried to figure out what my goals were, when I was happy, what I regretted. And I realised you were the answer to all those questions.” At that point, Eames wouldn’t look up from his hands, clasped together on the table.
“What do you mean?” asked Arthur, leaning forward in anticipation.
“I couldn’t keep going on the way I was in school--all that pressure finally made me blow a gasket before running away--but I should have said something to you first. The times I had the most fun, the one person I could communicate with by just a glance, the one perfect collaborator, and I ran out on you,” Eames said, finally looking back into Arthur’s eyes, searching for an indication of how Arthur was taking all this. Arthur’s steady gaze defied interpretation.
“So, once I realized all that, I tried to track you down. You know you’re right hard to find.”
“I know, I’ve been doing my own thing,” said Arthur. “How did you find me?”
“Ariadne,” ah, the Amazing Ariadne, their contortionist classmate. She was the one person Arthur had kept in touch with. They’d even worked together on an acrobatic revue when her then-partner, Nash, had taken ill. Arthur didn’t specialize in that sort of thing, but he liked to stay flexible, and was glad he could help her out. “She said you’d been working San Francisco for the last year, though she didn’t have more than a PO Box. I came to town, wandered the usual places, finally saw you juggling at Fisherman’s Wharf. I couldn’t summon the nerve to say hello; you looked right past me.”
“So you followed me to work?” asked Arthur, a bit bemused, “my very own stalker.”
“I suppose you could interpret it that way,” said Eames, winking at him. “So I went in and asked you out on a date. You asked me if I wanted paper or plastic. I said plastic and went off with my tail between my legs.” Eames made an exagerattedly mournful look, complete with puppy-dog eyes.
“But you came back,” said Arthur.
“Yes, I went off the take care of some business, then came back a few times. You really are in a fugue state behind that register, most of the time, aren’t you?” reaching forward to caress one of Arthur’s hands.
“I work a full shift at the market, then a full shift performing, or vice versa. I get a little tired,” said Arthur, smiling.
“Well, once I decided you weren’t giving me the cold shoulder, you just weren’t noticing, I thought I’d play around a bit.”
“You mean act out your juvenile sense of humor,” said Arthur, smiling wickedly.
“Certainly,” grinned Eames. “I can’t believe I got no reaction to the cucumber and condoms.”
“Oh, you got a reaction. I just wanted to see what you’d do next.”
“You little minx,” said Eames, giving Arthur’s hand a playful squeeze. Then he turned serious, clearing his throat nervously. “Arthur, you’re better than ever. Why are you working in that market and whiling away your time at tourist attractions?”
Arthur shrugged, “It passes the time,” with a Mona Lisa smile.
“You always have liked playing things close to the vest,” said Eames, leaning back in his seat. “But seriously, I’m working on putting a show together. I thought you could join.”
“That’s why you came, why you flirted with me, to ask me to run off to the circus with you?” Arthur said, pulling his hand back from Eames’ grasp.
“No, Arthur, no. I’m bollocking it up again,” said Eames, running a hand through his hair. “The happiest I’ve ever been was with you, working and playing together. I want that back. My soul-searching showed me how much I’d missed about our relationship. I want more...I want you. If you don’t want to work together, than just let me stay. Or come with me and work at a grocery shop wherever we end up. I’d love to be partners in every way, but I’ll take whatever you’ve got to give.”
“Huh,” said Arthur.
“That’s all you’ve got to say! I’ve chased you down after years, propositioned you, practically proposed, and you say ‘Huh’!” exclaimed Eames, throwing his hands up in the air.
“Well, it’s not every day that someone hands you all your deepest wishes on a plate, it’s taking some time to process.”
Eames startled. “Deepest wishes,” Eames repeated.
“Deepest,” confirmed Arthur.
There was a long pause, while they looked into each others eyes.
“So that’s a yes?” asked Eames.
“A provisional yes; we still have to work out some details,” said Arthur, trying to look serious.
“Such as?”
Arthur looked thoughtful. “What kind of show were you thinking of? Touring? Local small shows? Variety or specialty?”
“Well, when I was touring around, I did a couple special shows for a Japanese entertainment mogul, Saito. He liked my act and we really hit it off. He wants to expand into Vegas, and have a performance-themed casino . Small floor shows with acrobats, jugglers milling about, and on the main-stage, a full circus of his own, in the old style. But with class. I’m recruiting, but I need help with the planning. In school, the shows you organized always were the best, and in the last few years, I’ve heard nothing but good things; that is, until you fell off the grid.”
“Saito, huh, I’ve heard good things about him.”
“Yeah, he’s the best. Anything he touches is golden. If he wants something, he makes it happen.”
“Have anyone else lined up, anyone I know?” asked Arthur.
“You’re always my first pick,” kissing the back of Arthur’s hand. “There’s a bloke I met overseas, Yusuf, he has a poodle act.”
“A poodle act, you’re kidding me,” said Arthur.
“He’s a great guy, it’s the best poodle act I’ve ever seen. But it’s the cats that really set him aside.”
“Cats?” ask Arthur, skeptical, but intrigued.
“Yeah, he can get them to do just about anything. It’s amazing. House cats, big cats,” gesturing expansively.
“I’ll have to take your word for it,” said Arthur, laughing.
“And Mal and Dom, the trapeze artists.”
“The Cobb act?” said Arthur, surprised and impressed.
“The one and only,” said Eames, sounding smug.
“They’re great, but isn’t she a bit unstable? Thinks this is all a dream?”
“Yeah, a whole Shakespearean ‘all the worlds a stage, and we’re all merely players’ bit. Means she can sit back and laugh at the world. Dom likes her just the way she is, and they’re brilliant. Training their kids up, too. They’ll be up to performing soon.”
“They are the best. I think Robert Fischer would be game,” said Arthur, mentally adjusting his own plans to incorporate Eames’ ideas.
“He’s one of the best clowns around! I love his pinwheel routine,” said Eames, practically rubbing his hands together in glee.
“It is pretty amazing. Anyone else at the top of your list?” ask Arthur, plans percolating in his mind.
“I’ve been trying to recruit Ariadne to organize a whole contortionist act. She’s playing hard to get. And she said she’d only give an answer after I’d talked to you.”
“And she told you where I am. You realise I’ve been trying to recruit her for my own show? That’s what I’ve been doing, saving up the capital to fund my own show, working on the planning. I needed the time off full-time performing to focus on the planning stages.”
“What?” said Eames, flabbergasted. “That’s brilliant. And Ariadne knew about both our plans!”
“Looks like Ariadne recruited us instead.”
“I never knew she had it in her. Clever girl.”
ETA: Now with comment!fic coda!
Author: jenna_marianne
Fandom: Inception
Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Rating: PG-13
Length: 2,304 words
Genre: AU, crack
Summary: Unbeknownst to Arthur, he and Eames, the strange man who propositions him with fruit, share a past. This is a sequel to " The Things Some People Will Do For Attention," the sexy groceries story. A partial fill for the inception_kink Circus!AU prompt.
“So, this is the strangest proposition I’ve ever had,” said Arthur as they strolled along the street, away from the grocery store.
“Do you get many? I’m not unique?” said Eames, displaying his teeth in a wide grin.
“Oh, you’re unique,” Arthur rolled his eyes, “and, no, not many at all.”
“Would you even notice if you did?” asked Eames, gently poking him in the side with an elbow.
“I noticed you,” said Arthur as he nudged him back with his shoulder.
“Yes, after being completely oblivious to my advances, it took wearing outlandish clothing and propositioning you via fruit. You probably get hit on constantly.”
“What made my attention so important to have?” Arthur asked. Eames started to leer, and Arthur cut him off with a pointed finger, “and don’t say my ‘good looks.’” he said, complete with air quotes, “That doesn’t explain your months-long persistence.”
Eames ducked his head down, looking uncomfortable for the first time Arthur could recall. “We’ve met before, you know.” Arthur nodded. “No, not in the store, at school.”
“School?” said Arthur, flabbergasted.
“You really are hopelessly oblivious, aren’t you,” said Eames with a fond look, shaking his head.
“So we met once years ago, you ran into me at the grocery store and decided it was time to woo me via poor fashion and suggestive purchases? What am I missing?” Arthur said with narrowed eyes. He didn’t like missing important details.
The strange ease between them was fading into a tense discomfort. To work off the nervous energy, Arthur pulled the two kiwis out of his jacket pocket and started juggling idly. Eames looked so delighted, that Arthur switched to cascading the kiwis in one hand while he fished out the banana, then threw it in the mix.
“Oh, Arthur, you haven’t changed,” said Eames, laughing.
“Okay, that’s getting on my nerves now. Refresh my evidently poor memory,” said Arthur, ignoring the handful of people that had stopped to watch, admiring his complex fruit juggling.
“All right, how’s this?” said Eames, then started patting the air in a strangely familiar pattern, in front of him, to the side, above...as if he were in a box. Then he opened the invisible box, and proceeded to put on an amazing mime routine: he pulled on an endless rope until he lost traction and fell down, he walked against the wind, basically every advanced mime trick in the book.
“Bippy,” murmured Arthur. His jaw had dropped somewhere along the line, though his well-trained hands continued their juggling by rote. Then Eames stuck his hand out in a distinctive way, and Arthur automatically threw him one kiwi, then the other, then the banana, over and over. That was just the start;soon their shoes were taken off, one-by-one, and joined the flying fruit, then a water bottle provided by a member of their ever growing audience, then a hat, an apple, some keys. Next they were doing flips and turns, all while still juggling.
No wonder Arthur hadn’t recognized him. His former classmate from the Parisian School of Clowning had been in an immersive mime program: no talking, perpetual white face paint, only allowed to wear clothing in black and white (stripes up top, solid black below). Not to mention that Eames, formerly known by the nom de scène Bippy, had been much leaner. He’d bulked up since then, as well as gaining a tan and discarding the beret.
They’d been teamed up for their final project--Arthur the acrobat and juggler with Bippy the mime and juggler--a show which included juggling, acrobatics, fire-eating, tight-rope work, and clowning. The collaboration and resulting performances had been the height of Arthur’s career--if you gauged it by either how much fun he’d had or by audience reaction--up until his partner had disappeared.
Exhilaration coursed through Arthur. The supermarket job paid the bills, and allowed him to squirrel away a good savings, while he lived for the evenings and weekends when he performed on the streets, in parks, any venue he could get. But nothing compared to the fluid give and take between them right now, anticipating each others moves. Neither could stop smiling.
The crowd was clapping enthusiastically. Eames flipped the donated ballcap onto the ground, and skillfully called for donations to their dinner. They wrapped up the show, returning the borrowed items, this lady’s iphone and that man’s keys and a little girls apple, until all that was left were the original kiwis and banana. They put their shoes back on, took a bow, thanked the audience and entered the Italian resturant down the road.
After they’d been seated at a candle-lit table, watching each other over the red and white checkered expanse, Arthur finally asked what had been bothering him for years. “Where have you been? Why did you suddenly disappear after our last performance.”
“I couldn’t do it anymore. All that silence, all that face paint. No color in my life. I couldn’t talk to anyone about it,” Arthur nodded, understanding the solemn vows of silence that the mimes in their program had taken so seriously. “I stayed until our final was over; I couldn’t let you down, but after that...” Eames shook his head ruefully, “after that, I went to find myself. I worked as a clown, a busker. Did a bit of a strong man show in a carnival. I did anything I could that was loud and colorful. I made up for the years of quiet.”
“And did you? Find yourself?” asked Arthur, leaning against one fist, elbow on the table.
“Yes and no,” said Eames, then chuckled at Arthur’s skeptical upraised brow. “God, there was a reason I picked miming; I’m dreadful when talking about things that matter. Why do you think I propositioned you with groceries.”
Arthur chuckled, “I think you’re doing okay so far. Go on.”
“Right. So, leaving mummery was the right choice. I could go through the paces as well as the next person, but all the rules were stifling. Branching out was great. I even did a stint in Cirque du Soleil. But all that experimenting, and I still wasn’t happy. I looked back at my life, tried to figure out what my goals were, when I was happy, what I regretted. And I realised you were the answer to all those questions.” At that point, Eames wouldn’t look up from his hands, clasped together on the table.
“What do you mean?” asked Arthur, leaning forward in anticipation.
“I couldn’t keep going on the way I was in school--all that pressure finally made me blow a gasket before running away--but I should have said something to you first. The times I had the most fun, the one person I could communicate with by just a glance, the one perfect collaborator, and I ran out on you,” Eames said, finally looking back into Arthur’s eyes, searching for an indication of how Arthur was taking all this. Arthur’s steady gaze defied interpretation.
“So, once I realized all that, I tried to track you down. You know you’re right hard to find.”
“I know, I’ve been doing my own thing,” said Arthur. “How did you find me?”
“Ariadne,” ah, the Amazing Ariadne, their contortionist classmate. She was the one person Arthur had kept in touch with. They’d even worked together on an acrobatic revue when her then-partner, Nash, had taken ill. Arthur didn’t specialize in that sort of thing, but he liked to stay flexible, and was glad he could help her out. “She said you’d been working San Francisco for the last year, though she didn’t have more than a PO Box. I came to town, wandered the usual places, finally saw you juggling at Fisherman’s Wharf. I couldn’t summon the nerve to say hello; you looked right past me.”
“So you followed me to work?” asked Arthur, a bit bemused, “my very own stalker.”
“I suppose you could interpret it that way,” said Eames, winking at him. “So I went in and asked you out on a date. You asked me if I wanted paper or plastic. I said plastic and went off with my tail between my legs.” Eames made an exagerattedly mournful look, complete with puppy-dog eyes.
“But you came back,” said Arthur.
“Yes, I went off the take care of some business, then came back a few times. You really are in a fugue state behind that register, most of the time, aren’t you?” reaching forward to caress one of Arthur’s hands.
“I work a full shift at the market, then a full shift performing, or vice versa. I get a little tired,” said Arthur, smiling.
“Well, once I decided you weren’t giving me the cold shoulder, you just weren’t noticing, I thought I’d play around a bit.”
“You mean act out your juvenile sense of humor,” said Arthur, smiling wickedly.
“Certainly,” grinned Eames. “I can’t believe I got no reaction to the cucumber and condoms.”
“Oh, you got a reaction. I just wanted to see what you’d do next.”
“You little minx,” said Eames, giving Arthur’s hand a playful squeeze. Then he turned serious, clearing his throat nervously. “Arthur, you’re better than ever. Why are you working in that market and whiling away your time at tourist attractions?”
Arthur shrugged, “It passes the time,” with a Mona Lisa smile.
“You always have liked playing things close to the vest,” said Eames, leaning back in his seat. “But seriously, I’m working on putting a show together. I thought you could join.”
“That’s why you came, why you flirted with me, to ask me to run off to the circus with you?” Arthur said, pulling his hand back from Eames’ grasp.
“No, Arthur, no. I’m bollocking it up again,” said Eames, running a hand through his hair. “The happiest I’ve ever been was with you, working and playing together. I want that back. My soul-searching showed me how much I’d missed about our relationship. I want more...I want you. If you don’t want to work together, than just let me stay. Or come with me and work at a grocery shop wherever we end up. I’d love to be partners in every way, but I’ll take whatever you’ve got to give.”
“Huh,” said Arthur.
“That’s all you’ve got to say! I’ve chased you down after years, propositioned you, practically proposed, and you say ‘Huh’!” exclaimed Eames, throwing his hands up in the air.
“Well, it’s not every day that someone hands you all your deepest wishes on a plate, it’s taking some time to process.”
Eames startled. “Deepest wishes,” Eames repeated.
“Deepest,” confirmed Arthur.
There was a long pause, while they looked into each others eyes.
“So that’s a yes?” asked Eames.
“A provisional yes; we still have to work out some details,” said Arthur, trying to look serious.
“Such as?”
Arthur looked thoughtful. “What kind of show were you thinking of? Touring? Local small shows? Variety or specialty?”
“Well, when I was touring around, I did a couple special shows for a Japanese entertainment mogul, Saito. He liked my act and we really hit it off. He wants to expand into Vegas, and have a performance-themed casino . Small floor shows with acrobats, jugglers milling about, and on the main-stage, a full circus of his own, in the old style. But with class. I’m recruiting, but I need help with the planning. In school, the shows you organized always were the best, and in the last few years, I’ve heard nothing but good things; that is, until you fell off the grid.”
“Saito, huh, I’ve heard good things about him.”
“Yeah, he’s the best. Anything he touches is golden. If he wants something, he makes it happen.”
“Have anyone else lined up, anyone I know?” asked Arthur.
“You’re always my first pick,” kissing the back of Arthur’s hand. “There’s a bloke I met overseas, Yusuf, he has a poodle act.”
“A poodle act, you’re kidding me,” said Arthur.
“He’s a great guy, it’s the best poodle act I’ve ever seen. But it’s the cats that really set him aside.”
“Cats?” ask Arthur, skeptical, but intrigued.
“Yeah, he can get them to do just about anything. It’s amazing. House cats, big cats,” gesturing expansively.
“I’ll have to take your word for it,” said Arthur, laughing.
“And Mal and Dom, the trapeze artists.”
“The Cobb act?” said Arthur, surprised and impressed.
“The one and only,” said Eames, sounding smug.
“They’re great, but isn’t she a bit unstable? Thinks this is all a dream?”
“Yeah, a whole Shakespearean ‘all the worlds a stage, and we’re all merely players’ bit. Means she can sit back and laugh at the world. Dom likes her just the way she is, and they’re brilliant. Training their kids up, too. They’ll be up to performing soon.”
“They are the best. I think Robert Fischer would be game,” said Arthur, mentally adjusting his own plans to incorporate Eames’ ideas.
“He’s one of the best clowns around! I love his pinwheel routine,” said Eames, practically rubbing his hands together in glee.
“It is pretty amazing. Anyone else at the top of your list?” ask Arthur, plans percolating in his mind.
“I’ve been trying to recruit Ariadne to organize a whole contortionist act. She’s playing hard to get. And she said she’d only give an answer after I’d talked to you.”
“And she told you where I am. You realise I’ve been trying to recruit her for my own show? That’s what I’ve been doing, saving up the capital to fund my own show, working on the planning. I needed the time off full-time performing to focus on the planning stages.”
“What?” said Eames, flabbergasted. “That’s brilliant. And Ariadne knew about both our plans!”
“Looks like Ariadne recruited us instead.”
“I never knew she had it in her. Clever girl.”
ETA: Now with comment!fic coda!