In Memory Of
Title: In Memory Of
Fandom: Inception
Pairing/Characters: Arthur/Cobb/Mal, Eames
Genres: Canon/Pre-movie
Rating: R
Summary: For this prompt at inception_kink "She was lovely."
It is Cobb who teaches Arthur to forget things. It makes things much easier, he’d say, and Arthur has no real reason to disbelieve him. So Arthur forgets everything, because aside from how much time he spends putting on a suit each morning, Arthur prefers things simple. (And because he desperately wants to be like Cobb.)
Arthur even (mostly) forgets the first time that he has sex in real life. A seedy bar, his head swims with bitter Scotch. A man walks up to him, armed with a smirk just barely disguised as a smile; it doesn’t fool Arthur, even for a moment. The man leans close to him and says --
You must not be afraid to dream a little bigger, darling. His voice smells warm, inviting. A touch of cigarette smoke, a pinch of whiskey.
It’s the only thing Arthur really remembers from that night. (Though the sex must have been decent because he’s pleasantly sore for the next two days.)
(Except Arthur isn’t like Cobb, not at all. Cobb is good at remembering the things that are important. The things that matter.
-
Arthur has resigned himself to the fact that Cobb probably won’t ever fuck him, not in real life. He’s all right with that, only because interoffice relations (although neither of them work a normal nine to five in adjoining cubicles,) complicates everything.
In Arthur’s dreams, things are allowed to be different -- he allows them to be different. Dreams are such whimsical things, and he can never bear to be dishonest in them. Arthur can dream up fancy hotel suites with heavy chandeliers, expensive champagne that he wishes that he could like (but clearly champagne is an acquired taste,) and Cobb will smile at him like a lover.
Cobb will tug the immaculate knot of Arthur’s tie loose in one fluid motion, while Arthur tries to remember how to breathe.
And then he’d say, Arthur, I want you. All I’ve ever wanted, is you.
Yes, yes, fuck yes.
In Arthur’s very worst nightmares, they’re pressed up against up against each other in the shower, drenched in lukewarm water. Cobb smirks at him, calls him darling and bites his throat. Still, Arthur remembers every detail. He does not (can’t) forget.
-
Cobb is in love with Mal. Arthur thinks that Mal is lovely, but perhaps he’d really ought to hate her on a principle. When he meets her for the very first time, she is wearing a sleek black dress and heels. Arthur can’t help but stare at her legs. When she gets close enough to accidentally knock against his knee, Mal laughs, clear and brilliant. (Arthur also thinks that ‘Mal’ cannot be her true name, just some moniker that Cobb has given her on a whim.)
Oh, I’m so sorry. You must be Arthur. She holds out a hand, her nails are dark red. Dom has told me so much about you, his genius protege, a pleasure to finally meet you.
Arthur takes her hand, and Cobb beams at him quietly from across the table.
-
In Arthur’s dreams, Mal is there too, watching them through the shower door. Through the fogged glass, Arthur can see her hands slipping between her thighs as she braces herself against the sink with one arm. When she opens her mouth, she calls, not only Dom, but Arthur too. Arthur, Arthur, oh Arthur.
Somehow, Arthur gets the door open, and he has one leg wrapped around Cobb’s waist. Cobb is doing something wondrously wicked with his tongue to Arthur’s throat, but he pauses to watch.
Arthur says, Mal, come here. And she does. Neither of them look surprised, although the same can’t be said for Arthur himself.
Mal joins them in the shower, and the space is too small for three, but they manage to fit. Between the too of them, Cobb hikes up her dress and tries to tug it over her head and Arthur fumbles with the zipper. She’s naked, the dress a forgotten velvet rag on the floor.
Mal turns to smile at him -- Arthur is fascinated by the way her breasts feel against his tongue. He’s not so good with his tongue yet, but she’s patient with him. Neither of them call him darling.
She throws her arms around both of them, kisses them both. Oh Dom, oh Arthur. Cobb reaches out to touch the side of Arthur’s face; they kiss, and it’s not so awkward.
Afterwards, they stumble to a large bed with fresh sheets. Arthur drifts off to Mall murmuring soothing French he thinks he ought to understand in his ear, and Cobb clutching him close.
-
Out of nothing but morbid curiosity, Arthur goes to see Mal when Cobb isn’t home. Mal serves him tea and fruit pastries in a bright skirt and a blouse. He still can’t stop looking at her legs.
Arthur says, I don’t understand you.
That’s code for either you are jealous of me, or that you are the one who doesn’t understand himself. Mal takes the tea pot and refills his cup for him. Then she reaches for his hand and holds it in both of hers. I do not think you have to be either.
Arthur stares at her. He doesn’t understand what she means, but he doesn’t want to admit to it, either.
You love Cobb, and I love Dom. We complete him, don’t you see? We make him the happiest man alive. And perhaps someday, we will complete you, too.
Arthur sees, and remembers. He puts his other hand on top of hers, and they don’t move for a very long time. Yes, yes I see.
-
Arthur doesn’t want to remember the way Mal dies. Cobb makes him go to her funeral anyway. Since Cobb isn’t there, the service is conducted entirely in French, aside from the few usual phrases, he understands nothing. It helps with forgetting. He hopes Cobb doesn’t plan on making him translate.
On the plane to London, he tugs at Cobb’s tie until it’s straight again and tells him --
You have to forget this. You have to forget everything.
I can’t. I can’t forget any of it. If you knew me, you wouldn’t ask me to forget something like this.
Arthur bites back, but that is what you have always taught me. They never talk about this again.
-
“Arthur?”
Arthur can feel someone shaking his arm, Ariadne. In time, maybe she will be as lovely as Mal had once been. “I’m sorry?”
“What was she like, Cobb’s wife?”
To be honest, Arthur doesn’t remember much. So he shrugs and flits her a half smile, “She was lovely.”
Fandom: Inception
Pairing/Characters: Arthur/Cobb/Mal, Eames
Genres: Canon/Pre-movie
Rating: R
Summary: For this prompt at inception_kink "She was lovely."
It is Cobb who teaches Arthur to forget things. It makes things much easier, he’d say, and Arthur has no real reason to disbelieve him. So Arthur forgets everything, because aside from how much time he spends putting on a suit each morning, Arthur prefers things simple. (And because he desperately wants to be like Cobb.)
Arthur even (mostly) forgets the first time that he has sex in real life. A seedy bar, his head swims with bitter Scotch. A man walks up to him, armed with a smirk just barely disguised as a smile; it doesn’t fool Arthur, even for a moment. The man leans close to him and says --
You must not be afraid to dream a little bigger, darling. His voice smells warm, inviting. A touch of cigarette smoke, a pinch of whiskey.
It’s the only thing Arthur really remembers from that night. (Though the sex must have been decent because he’s pleasantly sore for the next two days.)
(Except Arthur isn’t like Cobb, not at all. Cobb is good at remembering the things that are important. The things that matter.
-
Arthur has resigned himself to the fact that Cobb probably won’t ever fuck him, not in real life. He’s all right with that, only because interoffice relations (although neither of them work a normal nine to five in adjoining cubicles,) complicates everything.
In Arthur’s dreams, things are allowed to be different -- he allows them to be different. Dreams are such whimsical things, and he can never bear to be dishonest in them. Arthur can dream up fancy hotel suites with heavy chandeliers, expensive champagne that he wishes that he could like (but clearly champagne is an acquired taste,) and Cobb will smile at him like a lover.
Cobb will tug the immaculate knot of Arthur’s tie loose in one fluid motion, while Arthur tries to remember how to breathe.
And then he’d say, Arthur, I want you. All I’ve ever wanted, is you.
Yes, yes, fuck yes.
In Arthur’s very worst nightmares, they’re pressed up against up against each other in the shower, drenched in lukewarm water. Cobb smirks at him, calls him darling and bites his throat. Still, Arthur remembers every detail. He does not (can’t) forget.
-
Cobb is in love with Mal. Arthur thinks that Mal is lovely, but perhaps he’d really ought to hate her on a principle. When he meets her for the very first time, she is wearing a sleek black dress and heels. Arthur can’t help but stare at her legs. When she gets close enough to accidentally knock against his knee, Mal laughs, clear and brilliant. (Arthur also thinks that ‘Mal’ cannot be her true name, just some moniker that Cobb has given her on a whim.)
Oh, I’m so sorry. You must be Arthur. She holds out a hand, her nails are dark red. Dom has told me so much about you, his genius protege, a pleasure to finally meet you.
Arthur takes her hand, and Cobb beams at him quietly from across the table.
-
In Arthur’s dreams, Mal is there too, watching them through the shower door. Through the fogged glass, Arthur can see her hands slipping between her thighs as she braces herself against the sink with one arm. When she opens her mouth, she calls, not only Dom, but Arthur too. Arthur, Arthur, oh Arthur.
Somehow, Arthur gets the door open, and he has one leg wrapped around Cobb’s waist. Cobb is doing something wondrously wicked with his tongue to Arthur’s throat, but he pauses to watch.
Arthur says, Mal, come here. And she does. Neither of them look surprised, although the same can’t be said for Arthur himself.
Mal joins them in the shower, and the space is too small for three, but they manage to fit. Between the too of them, Cobb hikes up her dress and tries to tug it over her head and Arthur fumbles with the zipper. She’s naked, the dress a forgotten velvet rag on the floor.
Mal turns to smile at him -- Arthur is fascinated by the way her breasts feel against his tongue. He’s not so good with his tongue yet, but she’s patient with him. Neither of them call him darling.
She throws her arms around both of them, kisses them both. Oh Dom, oh Arthur. Cobb reaches out to touch the side of Arthur’s face; they kiss, and it’s not so awkward.
Afterwards, they stumble to a large bed with fresh sheets. Arthur drifts off to Mall murmuring soothing French he thinks he ought to understand in his ear, and Cobb clutching him close.
-
Out of nothing but morbid curiosity, Arthur goes to see Mal when Cobb isn’t home. Mal serves him tea and fruit pastries in a bright skirt and a blouse. He still can’t stop looking at her legs.
Arthur says, I don’t understand you.
That’s code for either you are jealous of me, or that you are the one who doesn’t understand himself. Mal takes the tea pot and refills his cup for him. Then she reaches for his hand and holds it in both of hers. I do not think you have to be either.
Arthur stares at her. He doesn’t understand what she means, but he doesn’t want to admit to it, either.
You love Cobb, and I love Dom. We complete him, don’t you see? We make him the happiest man alive. And perhaps someday, we will complete you, too.
Arthur sees, and remembers. He puts his other hand on top of hers, and they don’t move for a very long time. Yes, yes I see.
-
Arthur doesn’t want to remember the way Mal dies. Cobb makes him go to her funeral anyway. Since Cobb isn’t there, the service is conducted entirely in French, aside from the few usual phrases, he understands nothing. It helps with forgetting. He hopes Cobb doesn’t plan on making him translate.
On the plane to London, he tugs at Cobb’s tie until it’s straight again and tells him --
You have to forget this. You have to forget everything.
I can’t. I can’t forget any of it. If you knew me, you wouldn’t ask me to forget something like this.
Arthur bites back, but that is what you have always taught me. They never talk about this again.
-
“Arthur?”
Arthur can feel someone shaking his arm, Ariadne. In time, maybe she will be as lovely as Mal had once been. “I’m sorry?”
“What was she like, Cobb’s wife?”
To be honest, Arthur doesn’t remember much. So he shrugs and flits her a half smile, “She was lovely.”