Inception fic: The Dog Days of Summer (2/5
Title: The Dog Days of Summer (2/5)
Fandom/Pairing: Inception, Arthur/Eames
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Swearing, descriptions of violence, but nothing too bad.
Wordcount: 4,187
Art by: adelaide_rain
Challenge: i_reversebang.
Summary: In which Homicide detective Arthur DeLacey is not pleased to find out he's going to have to work with Gang Violence detective James Eames on a high-profile case, but he ends up marrying him, anyway. Go figure.
-----------------
April 27, 2035
The rain pours down from the sky in sheets, almost obscuring the drab, gray world around him as he left the left the building. He flips his collar up against the wind, but it does very little good.
Eames hates these kinds of days.
Since his car had suddenly decided to take the day off earlier that morning, Eames turns left on the corner of Bailey and begins to jog for the yellow line, eager to catch the seven o’clock and be home in time to eat dinner with Arthur. It has been a hectic week, and what is worse…he has a bit of bad news to give his husband.
He is about a block away from the subway station and already soaked to the bone when he hears it: a tiny, pitiful whine that makes him stop in his tracks. He glances around through the downpour, hoping to locate the source of the noise. Soon enough his eyes land on a huddled lump of white fur, shivering and hiding behind a bench a few meters away.
“Hello,” Eames says gently. He walks a little closer to the bench, setting his bag down on the way. “What have we here?”
At first, the dog shrinks away from him when he crouches down and extends his hand to it, but quite soon it is barking, loud and insistent. For a moment, Eames is worried he’s scared it, or perhaps that it is going to bite him. He leans forward and places his hand lightly on the dog’s shaking head.
Instantly, it quiets and steps forward into the touch, rubbing its head against his palm.
“You are gorgeous, my dear,” he says soothingly. “But I bet you’re cold.” He checks the dog for a collar, but finds none. “How would you like to come home with me for a while until we find out who you belong to, hmm? There’s a good boy.” Eames manages to get the dog out from behind the bench, and then he shrugs off his coat and wraps it around the dog, picking it up. “You are quite the handsome fellow. I bet you have tons of lady dogs vying for your favor.”
The dog yips once, then tucks its head against Eames chest contentedly. Smiling, Eames jogs the rest of the way down the street and descends the stairs until he is swallowed by the dark mouth of the subway.
-o-
Arthur is waiting for Eames with a dry towel and hot tea when he nudges the door open, arms still full of wet dog. Arthur holds out his hands for Eames’s coat, not really paying attention, and freezes when he is met by a happy lick from a warm, slimy tongue.
“I fear,” Eames says to the dog, who tips its head as if it is listening, “that we’ve broken him.”
It takes Arthur a few minutes, but finally he lowers his hand, bewildered. “…What?” he finally asks, looking between the bundle of sopping fur and his equally sopping, grinning husband. “You-you have a dog.”
--
--
“Yes, love, I do. Isn’t he gorgeous?” Eames combs the damp fur away from the dog’s eyes fondly. “I found him under a bench on my way home.”
“He is cute,” Arthur agrees a little reluctantly. “Wearing a collar?”
“No. I checked before I picked him up.” Eames’s eyes are shining when he looks back up at his husband. “Do you want to hold him?” he inquires, holding the dog out to Arthur.
Arthur takes a small step back, wrinkling his nose and shaking his head. Eames feels his excitement wither a little in his chest and pulls the slightly squirming animal back to his chest. When Arthur sees his expression, he sighs and grabs the towel off the counter.
“He’s wet,” the man offers by way of explanation, then wraps the dog in the towel and sets it on the floor, crouching down to dry it off. After a second, Arthur pauses. “Oh, my mistake. She’s wet.”
“She’s a girl?” Eames asks, already stripping out of his soaked shirt. “Hm. Well, I didn’t look too closely when I picked her up.” He leans over and steals a quick kiss from Arthur. “Do you mind watching her while I go shower? I’m bloody freezing.”
“Not at all. Can you just grab me the blow dryer? She has such long hair…” Arthur already looks quite attached to her, kneeling down petting her softly as Eames laughs and ducks into the bathroom. He returns with the hair dryer and hands it over.
“What should we call her?” Arthur’s question catches Eames just as he is about to shut the bathroom door, and he pauses.
“I don’t know. What’s good name for a dog?” Eames leans against the doorframe, pensive.
“Something…elegant,” Arthur responds. “She’s beautiful.” He’s begun to blow dry her, and it makes her long white fur poof out adorably. She grins up at him, blue eyes sparkling.
“I hope she doesn’t already belong to someone. I think it’ll be good for you to have someone else in the house when-” Eames stops himself, hoping Arthur is too preoccupied with the dog to have noticed his slip. Unfortunately, Arthur wasn’t made a detective captain because of his pretty face.
“When what?” he asks, glancing up from the now-dry, happily panting dog. The look on his face clearly states that he will accept nothing but the truth, so Eames sighs and gives it to him.
“There’s a very distinct possibility that I may be…Fuck, I’m being assigned to a case soon. Not…dangerous, exactly, but long, and I’ll be gone away for a while.” He tries to study Arthur’s reaction, but his husband has turned away to look back at the dog.
“…What should we name her?” Arthur finally asks again, and Eames is a blind fool and completely unsuited to his job if he can’t tell that Arthur is upset. The dog has noticed too, and nudges Arthur’s knee with her nose.
Eames closes his eyes. “I’m sorry, Arthur. How about…Charlotte?”
“Charlotte.” Arthur rolls it around a little on his tongue, feeling it out, then smiles a little. “I like it. How about it?” he asks the ball of fur. “You like that?”
Charlotte yips in agreement.
“It’s settled then,” Eames says, walking a few steps forward to lay his hand on Arthur’s shoulder, giving it a light, apologetic squeeze. “She’s a beautiful pup. How old do you think she is?”
“A year, maybe,” Arthur muses, picking Charlotte up to examine her more closely, even as he leans back into Eames’s touch forgivingly. “I’ll take her to the vet tomorrow and get her checked out.” And though he is loathe to ask it, he glances up at Eames and says, “Should we put up missing dog posters?”
“It would probably be a good idea. But I don’t think she belongs to anyone. No collar.”
Arthur laughs softly. “That doesn’t mean anything. Back when I was a beat cop in LA proper, we’d find missing pets without collars all the time. It’s not that unusual.” The thing is: Arthur looks positively depressed at the thought that Charlotte already has a home. “I can’t imagine someone would let you slip out of sight for too long and not be worried,” he says, gently running his fingers through Charlotte’s fluffy fur as she tries to escape from his lap and explore the house.
“I’m sure everything will be fine. It wouldn’t do for the insurance to run out on us, after all.”
“Insurance?” Arthur finally releases the puppy and stands to wrap his arms around his husband, running his fingers lightly over the gooseflesh that has arisen Eames’s bare skin. “What insurance would that be, hmm?”
Eames twines his arms around Arthur’s waist and presses his face into Arthur’s neck. “It’s just that…you work too hard, Arthur. I worry that you may forget to come home at all one night, if I’m not around to remind you. So I just figured it’d be nice for you to have someone to come home to, while I’m away. Someone who’ll be concerned when you stay away too long.”
“You worry about you,” Arthur says gently, and turns his head to drop a light kiss on Eames’s temple. “I’ll be fine.”
There’s a startled bark from the other side of the kitchen as Charlotte nearly skids out of the room in her excitement to reach the next row of cupboards, and the moment is gone.
Arthur hugs Eames a little tighter, then steps back, laughing. “Sorry, Char. If no one calls for you, we’ll be just fine. I’ll make the posters tomorrow, after I take her to the vet.” He runs a hand down Eames’s bare arm then glances up, eyes serious and a little sad. “We’ll talk about…that later. Right now, you’re freezing. Go shower.”
Eames smiles slightly and briefly laces his fingers with Arthur’s. “It won’t be so bad. Over before you know it.”
Deliberately misinterpreting him, Arthur swings their joined hands once and says, “Just don’t use up all the hot water. What do you want for dinner?”
-oxo-
April 28, 2035
“Good morning, darling,” Eames mutters into Arthur’s hair over the drone of the alarm clock. Arthur shifts unhappily and tries to pull the pillow over his head, making Eames laugh. “No, no, come on now. It’s time to get up. Breakfast, and then we need to take Charlotte out for a walk.”
Finally Arthur gives in and sits up, running a hand across his face to help him wake up. “Yeah, all right.” He yawns. “It’s a good thing today is Saturday. I hope I don’t get called in.” Swinging his legs out of bed, Arthur stands and makes his way to the door to go find Charlotte in the kitchen, but he is captured by Eames’s arms before he can make it.
Eames teasingly peppers kisses along Arthur’s jaw until he is squirming and pushing half-heartedly at Eames’s chest.
“Let go of me, you beast,” he laughs. “I mean it!”
Eventually Eames releases him, and Arthur turns quickly to press their lips together, then steps out of arms’ reach and opens the door.
“Good morning, Charlotte,” Eames greets the happy puppy as she barks and wags her tail upon catching sight of them. “How are you this morning?” He leans down and reaches over the kiddy-fences (sometimes they baby-sit the Cobb children, and James is too young to go upstairs) to stroke her fur. “We’ve got a lot to do today.”
“Hmm,” Arthur hums in agreement, stepping over the white plastic onto the kitchen tile so he can make breakfast. “I’ll probably take her to the vet after the walk. Do you want to come?”
“No, I’ll go pick up some things for her at the pet store while you’re out. How’s that sound?” Eames moves a little closer to rub her belly, and Charlotte obediently rolls over onto her back, panting happily.
“Great.” Arthur smiles. He busies himself making eggs for the three of them, since they don’t have any dog food right now and he remembers that it’s all right from taking care of his neighbor’s dog back when he was a kid. He scrapes some into a bowl, and Charlotte digs right in when he sets it on the ground. He brings the rest over to the table for Eames and himself.
“This is good,” Eames notes with a smile as he starts on his breakfast. Arthur rolls his eyes fondly.
“It’s just eggs. Not that difficult.” He pauses. “…Get your foot off my leg and eat faster. We still have to go for a run before the vet appointment.”
“Ah, yes, can’t forget that. We have one more person to add to our morning jog.” Eames leans down to pet Charlotte’s head where she sits contentedly by the table. “That’ll be fun. You’ll have fun, won’t you girl?”
The dog tilts her head up to lick his palm.
When they are finished eating, Eames collects the dishes and places them in the sink, to be washed when they get back. Arthur comes out of their room, dressed in lightweight clothes. “I’m going to ask Mrs. Ferrin if she has an extra collar we can borrow. I know one of her labs recently grew out of one, so…” He shrugs. “I’ll be right back. You should get dressed.”
“Can do,” Eames says with a grin. “Tell her I say hello, won’t you?”
“Yeah, of course.”
Eames hears the front door shut, and then he turns to look down at Charlotte. “You don’t already belong to someone else, do you?” he asks softly. “I think Arthur’s heart would break.”
Charlotte just looks up at him seriously and lays her face against his leg.
-o-
Mrs. Ferrin does have an old collar, it turns out, so when Arthur returns from her house with it and one of her extra leashes and finds Eames dressed, they are ready to go. He fastens the collar around Charlotte’s neck, clips on the leash, then opens the front door. Charlotte bounds energetically down the front steps, nearly yanking Arthur’s arm out of its socket in her haste to explore the outside world.
“Ready?” Eames asks, settling his hand steadying on the small of his husband’s back as Arthur struggles to regain his balance. Arthur nods, and together they set a brisk pace jogging down the sidewalk towards the park with Charlotte bouncing cheerfully all around their legs.
In the park, she has to stop and smell everything, so Eames and Arthur slow down a little and take a bit of time to enjoy the unusually warm morning. They also get to experience, first hand, the dog-attraction-effect. They are both quite attractive themselves, which previously warranted several double-takes and winks from any female (and sometimes male, depending whether or not Michael and Richard were out) passers-by, but now that they have a dog with them, people are starting to come over.
“Is that your dog?” Marian from South Meridian Avenue asks with a charming smile, looking at them through her lashes. “She’s so adorable. What’s her name? Can I pet her?”
“Isn’t she just the cutest thing!” Jillian from Las Flores Street exclaims as she alters her course to pass by them, offering them both a sweet, flirty smile.
“Dear God, where did you get her? She’s gorgeous, dears,” Margaret from Westmont Drive coos as she pauses in her morning walk to ruffle Charlotte’s fur and flashes her dimples coquettishly.
And while Eames and Arthur are both growing continually more uncomfortable with the attention, Charlotte loves it. She rolls all over the ground, her belly presented for scratches, until her possibly-temporary owners are sick of being hit on by desperate women (who may or may not be aware that Arthur and Eames are already married to each other), so they tug at the leash until Charlotte gets up and jumps after them.
-o-
“That was-frankly, frightening. Dogs bring out the animal in single women.” Arthur hands the leash back to Eames so he can hold onto Charlotte as she explores the ground around their steps. He unlocks the door, then holds his hand out for the lead’s plastic handle. When it is in his grip, he gently pulls on it to direct Charlotte up the stairs. Eames gives her a helpful nudge to the butt with his foot.
She yips, then races up and into the house.
In surprise at the sudden action, Arthur’s hand goes lax on the leash, and Charlotte pulls it away. “Don’t get too comfortable!” Arthur shouts after her as she rockets around the kitchen and the living room before plopping down on the carpet, her gasping breaths making her entire tiny body heave.
Eames laughs and joins Arthur on the top step, placing his hand lightly on the back of his neck and squeezing. Arthur moans softly and leans into the half-massage with a smile.
“Come on,” Eames says soothingly. “Shower, yeah? Then she has to go to the vet.”
“I know,” Arthur sighs. “Okay.” Together they go inside and close the door behind them.
-o-
The veterinary clinic is neither cold nor bare; quite unlike Arthur’s half-formed notions of what it would be like. He had never had pets as a child, so he had never had any cause to pay any vet a visit. Now he sits a little uncomfortably in the waiting room with Charlotte snuffling around at the chairs and the other animals who are awaiting their turns to mount the chilly, stainless steel table beyond the door.
“Mr. Eames-DeLacey and Charlotte?” the pretty receptionist calls, and it makes Arthur smile to see how quickly Charlotte raises her head. She’s already adapted to her new name, it seems. “Doctor Ella will see you now.”
“Thank you,” Arthur says, standing and pulling a little on Charlotte’s leash until she trots over to his side. They go through the indicated door and on into the examination room.
“So, you’re Charlotte? I’ve never seen you around here before. You must be new.” The young woman, dressed in a lab coat, bends down to affectionately pet Charlotte’s head. When she straightens, she holds her hand out to Arthur. “My name is Susan Ella. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“And you. I’m Arthur Eames-DeLacey.” He shakes her hand, then scoops Charlotte up onto the table to be examined. She squirms the entire time, but stubbornly doesn’t want to leave by the time the check-up is over. Dr. Ella laughs, and finally Arthur just gives up and takes the dog into his arms.
“She’s perfectly healthy,” the doctor informs Arthur as she opens the door for him. “You were right, she’s just about a year old. She also looks to be a pure Samoyed, too. Very beautiful dog.”
“She is.” Arthur rubs his nose against the side of her head affectionately, and Charlotte barks and rubs back. He clips the lead to her collar and braces himself, then sets her down in the lobby.
She races for the door and Arthur laughs, jogging with her all the way back to the car.
-oxo-
-oxo-
May, 2035
No one calls. They wait a week, two weeks, but finally they decide to just to adopt Charlotte as their own. She seems happy enough with this arrangement, already in love with their fenced-in yard and long morning and evening jogs. Arthur and Eames start paying the girl who lives across the street to spend time with her and keep her busy and happy while they’re off at the station. Charlotte likes this, too, but she likes it even more when her men come home from work to play with her.
She waits by the door for them every night, and they always have smiles and love to give her.
They take her to the park, where she teaches Arthur how to play Frisbee and Eames how to throw a ball for her to bring back. She teaches them how to say sit, stay, and come here in a way she understands. In return, they teach her how to alert them before she jumps up on their bed, and how to know when to stop barking.
She also learns that even when they shove at each other, they don’t mean any harm.
But even under their laughter and easy bantering, she can tell something is wrong. It might be that Arthur frowns just a little too often, maybe, or that Eames sighs more frequently. They are not fighting, though; quite the contrary. If anything, they spend more time together than ever.
Then, one day near the end of the month, Eames spends a little longer ruffling her fur and telling her how much he loves her before he leaves. Arthur is sad-so sad, and she wants to comfort him, but he is leaving, too. He tells her to be good for Maggie, then kisses her forehead and follows Eames out the door, grasping his husband’s hand tightly.
-o-
“Promise me. Promise me you’ll be careful. I love you.”
“I love you, too, darling. I’ll be fine, so you take care of yourself, okay? Tell Charlotte I love her, and I’ll see you both soon.”
-o-
Eames doesn’t come home with Arthur.
She knows immediately that something is wrong from the set of Arthur’s shoulders, from the look in his eyes. For once, she doesn’t bark when she sees him, just goes over to him and whines softly, pawing at his knee.
He laughs softly and kneels down to pull her into his arms.
“James’ll be home soon,” he tells her, and his voice comes out slightly shaky. “Soon, and in one piece. He promised. If he’s not-well, I’ll shoot him myself.”
Charlotte licks the side of his face, flicking her ears back now and again as if unsure what to do. Finally, Arthur just sighs and messes up the fur on her sides. She gently bumps his chin with her nose.
Arthur lets her go with a pat to the head and wanders aimlessly into the kitchen, having grown unused to living alone since moving in with Eames. Charlotte follows at his heels, to keep him company.
The house feels too big for just the two of them as they eat dinner quietly. They watch TV until bedtime, then Arthur showers and puts on his pajamas.
Charlotte sleeps close to him that night.
-oxo-
June 17, 2035
“Are you going to come out to dinner with us, Arthur? I know you had a long day, but it’ll be fun. We’re getting drinks, and such.” Ariadne leans on the partition between Arthur’s desk and Fischer’s, smiling winningly. “Come on, it’ll be just a few of the guys-it’ll be fun. Like you wouldn’t imagine.”
“I can’t,” Arthur says, and as much as he loves his friends, he is not half as regretful as he sounds. “I have someone waiting for me.”
“Someone-” For a second, Ariadne looks like she is going to ask if Eames has come back yet, even though she knows it isn’t true. Then, her eyes widen comically and she leans over to pick a long strand of light-colored hair off of Arthur’s shoulder. “Oh. My. God. You’re not-”
Arthur lets her struggle with the words for a minute, one eyebrow raised, then smiles. “Charlotte’s waiting at home. I really can’t go out tonight.”
“Charlotte?” Fischer asks, glancing up in confusion and blinking when he catches sight of Ariadne’s wordlessly flapping mouth. “Who is Charlotte?”
“Oh!” Mal exclaims from her desk. “How is she settling in? All right? Not too lonely, I hope, with you gone all day.”
“No, we have a sitter to watch her and keep her company while we’re at work. She’s always so happy to see us-well, me, at the moment-when I get back, so I don’t like to stay away too long. She does get lonely.”
“You have a daughter?” Ariadne suddenly exclaims, mouth hanging open. “When the fuck were you and Eames going to tell me?”
“We don’t have a daughter,” Arthur tells her, patiently. “Just wait a minute, you’ll figure it out.”
“…Not a daughter?” She pauses, then examines the hair more closely. “Oh…oh! You have a dog!”
“Marvelous deduction,” Arthur praises teasingly. “You might want to be careful, or people might start mistaking you for a detective.”
“Oh, shush, you,” the girl huffs in response. “Rob, stop laughing! You’re supposed to be on my side!”
“I am,” Fischer assures her, placing a hand over his mouth to keep from letting any more chuckles escape. “As much as there are sides in this, I am completely on yours. I assure you.”
“…Okay,” Ariadne finally says. “So, not tonight. But when Eames gets home, yeah? You’ll come out with us?”
“Yeah. When James comes home.”
Mal lays her hand gently on his arm, pausing on her way to the door and her husband. “You let me know if you need anything, okay? You and Charlotte are always welcome at our house, if you get lonely. You know that, don’t you?”
And Arthur does, just as he knows he will never burden them by staying the night when they don’t need him to baby-sit, their house already full to bursting with two excited children. He nods anyway, just to see her smile.
“Good.” She kisses his cheeks and crosses the bullpen to embrace Cobb, kissing him chastely on the mouth. “Shall we go?”
He nods and they take their exit, followed soon by Parker who is talking with his wife on the phone, and then by Ariadne and Fischer, hand in hand. Arthur sighs and finishes packing his briefcase, pulling out his phone to let his finger hover just over the first number in his speed-dial.
Eventually, he shakes his head and returns it to his pocket, pulling on his suit jacket and heading for the elevator, the car, and home.
----------------------
Part Three
Fandom/Pairing: Inception, Arthur/Eames
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Swearing, descriptions of violence, but nothing too bad.
Wordcount: 4,187
Art by: adelaide_rain
Challenge: i_reversebang.
Summary: In which Homicide detective Arthur DeLacey is not pleased to find out he's going to have to work with Gang Violence detective James Eames on a high-profile case, but he ends up marrying him, anyway. Go figure.
-----------------
April 27, 2035
The rain pours down from the sky in sheets, almost obscuring the drab, gray world around him as he left the left the building. He flips his collar up against the wind, but it does very little good.
Eames hates these kinds of days.
Since his car had suddenly decided to take the day off earlier that morning, Eames turns left on the corner of Bailey and begins to jog for the yellow line, eager to catch the seven o’clock and be home in time to eat dinner with Arthur. It has been a hectic week, and what is worse…he has a bit of bad news to give his husband.
He is about a block away from the subway station and already soaked to the bone when he hears it: a tiny, pitiful whine that makes him stop in his tracks. He glances around through the downpour, hoping to locate the source of the noise. Soon enough his eyes land on a huddled lump of white fur, shivering and hiding behind a bench a few meters away.
“Hello,” Eames says gently. He walks a little closer to the bench, setting his bag down on the way. “What have we here?”
At first, the dog shrinks away from him when he crouches down and extends his hand to it, but quite soon it is barking, loud and insistent. For a moment, Eames is worried he’s scared it, or perhaps that it is going to bite him. He leans forward and places his hand lightly on the dog’s shaking head.
Instantly, it quiets and steps forward into the touch, rubbing its head against his palm.
“You are gorgeous, my dear,” he says soothingly. “But I bet you’re cold.” He checks the dog for a collar, but finds none. “How would you like to come home with me for a while until we find out who you belong to, hmm? There’s a good boy.” Eames manages to get the dog out from behind the bench, and then he shrugs off his coat and wraps it around the dog, picking it up. “You are quite the handsome fellow. I bet you have tons of lady dogs vying for your favor.”
The dog yips once, then tucks its head against Eames chest contentedly. Smiling, Eames jogs the rest of the way down the street and descends the stairs until he is swallowed by the dark mouth of the subway.
-o-
Arthur is waiting for Eames with a dry towel and hot tea when he nudges the door open, arms still full of wet dog. Arthur holds out his hands for Eames’s coat, not really paying attention, and freezes when he is met by a happy lick from a warm, slimy tongue.
“I fear,” Eames says to the dog, who tips its head as if it is listening, “that we’ve broken him.”
It takes Arthur a few minutes, but finally he lowers his hand, bewildered. “…What?” he finally asks, looking between the bundle of sopping fur and his equally sopping, grinning husband. “You-you have a dog.”
--
--
“Yes, love, I do. Isn’t he gorgeous?” Eames combs the damp fur away from the dog’s eyes fondly. “I found him under a bench on my way home.”
“He is cute,” Arthur agrees a little reluctantly. “Wearing a collar?”
“No. I checked before I picked him up.” Eames’s eyes are shining when he looks back up at his husband. “Do you want to hold him?” he inquires, holding the dog out to Arthur.
Arthur takes a small step back, wrinkling his nose and shaking his head. Eames feels his excitement wither a little in his chest and pulls the slightly squirming animal back to his chest. When Arthur sees his expression, he sighs and grabs the towel off the counter.
“He’s wet,” the man offers by way of explanation, then wraps the dog in the towel and sets it on the floor, crouching down to dry it off. After a second, Arthur pauses. “Oh, my mistake. She’s wet.”
“She’s a girl?” Eames asks, already stripping out of his soaked shirt. “Hm. Well, I didn’t look too closely when I picked her up.” He leans over and steals a quick kiss from Arthur. “Do you mind watching her while I go shower? I’m bloody freezing.”
“Not at all. Can you just grab me the blow dryer? She has such long hair…” Arthur already looks quite attached to her, kneeling down petting her softly as Eames laughs and ducks into the bathroom. He returns with the hair dryer and hands it over.
“What should we call her?” Arthur’s question catches Eames just as he is about to shut the bathroom door, and he pauses.
“I don’t know. What’s good name for a dog?” Eames leans against the doorframe, pensive.
“Something…elegant,” Arthur responds. “She’s beautiful.” He’s begun to blow dry her, and it makes her long white fur poof out adorably. She grins up at him, blue eyes sparkling.
“I hope she doesn’t already belong to someone. I think it’ll be good for you to have someone else in the house when-” Eames stops himself, hoping Arthur is too preoccupied with the dog to have noticed his slip. Unfortunately, Arthur wasn’t made a detective captain because of his pretty face.
“When what?” he asks, glancing up from the now-dry, happily panting dog. The look on his face clearly states that he will accept nothing but the truth, so Eames sighs and gives it to him.
“There’s a very distinct possibility that I may be…Fuck, I’m being assigned to a case soon. Not…dangerous, exactly, but long, and I’ll be gone away for a while.” He tries to study Arthur’s reaction, but his husband has turned away to look back at the dog.
“…What should we name her?” Arthur finally asks again, and Eames is a blind fool and completely unsuited to his job if he can’t tell that Arthur is upset. The dog has noticed too, and nudges Arthur’s knee with her nose.
Eames closes his eyes. “I’m sorry, Arthur. How about…Charlotte?”
“Charlotte.” Arthur rolls it around a little on his tongue, feeling it out, then smiles a little. “I like it. How about it?” he asks the ball of fur. “You like that?”
Charlotte yips in agreement.
“It’s settled then,” Eames says, walking a few steps forward to lay his hand on Arthur’s shoulder, giving it a light, apologetic squeeze. “She’s a beautiful pup. How old do you think she is?”
“A year, maybe,” Arthur muses, picking Charlotte up to examine her more closely, even as he leans back into Eames’s touch forgivingly. “I’ll take her to the vet tomorrow and get her checked out.” And though he is loathe to ask it, he glances up at Eames and says, “Should we put up missing dog posters?”
“It would probably be a good idea. But I don’t think she belongs to anyone. No collar.”
Arthur laughs softly. “That doesn’t mean anything. Back when I was a beat cop in LA proper, we’d find missing pets without collars all the time. It’s not that unusual.” The thing is: Arthur looks positively depressed at the thought that Charlotte already has a home. “I can’t imagine someone would let you slip out of sight for too long and not be worried,” he says, gently running his fingers through Charlotte’s fluffy fur as she tries to escape from his lap and explore the house.
“I’m sure everything will be fine. It wouldn’t do for the insurance to run out on us, after all.”
“Insurance?” Arthur finally releases the puppy and stands to wrap his arms around his husband, running his fingers lightly over the gooseflesh that has arisen Eames’s bare skin. “What insurance would that be, hmm?”
Eames twines his arms around Arthur’s waist and presses his face into Arthur’s neck. “It’s just that…you work too hard, Arthur. I worry that you may forget to come home at all one night, if I’m not around to remind you. So I just figured it’d be nice for you to have someone to come home to, while I’m away. Someone who’ll be concerned when you stay away too long.”
“You worry about you,” Arthur says gently, and turns his head to drop a light kiss on Eames’s temple. “I’ll be fine.”
There’s a startled bark from the other side of the kitchen as Charlotte nearly skids out of the room in her excitement to reach the next row of cupboards, and the moment is gone.
Arthur hugs Eames a little tighter, then steps back, laughing. “Sorry, Char. If no one calls for you, we’ll be just fine. I’ll make the posters tomorrow, after I take her to the vet.” He runs a hand down Eames’s bare arm then glances up, eyes serious and a little sad. “We’ll talk about…that later. Right now, you’re freezing. Go shower.”
Eames smiles slightly and briefly laces his fingers with Arthur’s. “It won’t be so bad. Over before you know it.”
Deliberately misinterpreting him, Arthur swings their joined hands once and says, “Just don’t use up all the hot water. What do you want for dinner?”
-oxo-
April 28, 2035
“Good morning, darling,” Eames mutters into Arthur’s hair over the drone of the alarm clock. Arthur shifts unhappily and tries to pull the pillow over his head, making Eames laugh. “No, no, come on now. It’s time to get up. Breakfast, and then we need to take Charlotte out for a walk.”
Finally Arthur gives in and sits up, running a hand across his face to help him wake up. “Yeah, all right.” He yawns. “It’s a good thing today is Saturday. I hope I don’t get called in.” Swinging his legs out of bed, Arthur stands and makes his way to the door to go find Charlotte in the kitchen, but he is captured by Eames’s arms before he can make it.
Eames teasingly peppers kisses along Arthur’s jaw until he is squirming and pushing half-heartedly at Eames’s chest.
“Let go of me, you beast,” he laughs. “I mean it!”
Eventually Eames releases him, and Arthur turns quickly to press their lips together, then steps out of arms’ reach and opens the door.
“Good morning, Charlotte,” Eames greets the happy puppy as she barks and wags her tail upon catching sight of them. “How are you this morning?” He leans down and reaches over the kiddy-fences (sometimes they baby-sit the Cobb children, and James is too young to go upstairs) to stroke her fur. “We’ve got a lot to do today.”
“Hmm,” Arthur hums in agreement, stepping over the white plastic onto the kitchen tile so he can make breakfast. “I’ll probably take her to the vet after the walk. Do you want to come?”
“No, I’ll go pick up some things for her at the pet store while you’re out. How’s that sound?” Eames moves a little closer to rub her belly, and Charlotte obediently rolls over onto her back, panting happily.
“Great.” Arthur smiles. He busies himself making eggs for the three of them, since they don’t have any dog food right now and he remembers that it’s all right from taking care of his neighbor’s dog back when he was a kid. He scrapes some into a bowl, and Charlotte digs right in when he sets it on the ground. He brings the rest over to the table for Eames and himself.
“This is good,” Eames notes with a smile as he starts on his breakfast. Arthur rolls his eyes fondly.
“It’s just eggs. Not that difficult.” He pauses. “…Get your foot off my leg and eat faster. We still have to go for a run before the vet appointment.”
“Ah, yes, can’t forget that. We have one more person to add to our morning jog.” Eames leans down to pet Charlotte’s head where she sits contentedly by the table. “That’ll be fun. You’ll have fun, won’t you girl?”
The dog tilts her head up to lick his palm.
When they are finished eating, Eames collects the dishes and places them in the sink, to be washed when they get back. Arthur comes out of their room, dressed in lightweight clothes. “I’m going to ask Mrs. Ferrin if she has an extra collar we can borrow. I know one of her labs recently grew out of one, so…” He shrugs. “I’ll be right back. You should get dressed.”
“Can do,” Eames says with a grin. “Tell her I say hello, won’t you?”
“Yeah, of course.”
Eames hears the front door shut, and then he turns to look down at Charlotte. “You don’t already belong to someone else, do you?” he asks softly. “I think Arthur’s heart would break.”
Charlotte just looks up at him seriously and lays her face against his leg.
-o-
Mrs. Ferrin does have an old collar, it turns out, so when Arthur returns from her house with it and one of her extra leashes and finds Eames dressed, they are ready to go. He fastens the collar around Charlotte’s neck, clips on the leash, then opens the front door. Charlotte bounds energetically down the front steps, nearly yanking Arthur’s arm out of its socket in her haste to explore the outside world.
“Ready?” Eames asks, settling his hand steadying on the small of his husband’s back as Arthur struggles to regain his balance. Arthur nods, and together they set a brisk pace jogging down the sidewalk towards the park with Charlotte bouncing cheerfully all around their legs.
In the park, she has to stop and smell everything, so Eames and Arthur slow down a little and take a bit of time to enjoy the unusually warm morning. They also get to experience, first hand, the dog-attraction-effect. They are both quite attractive themselves, which previously warranted several double-takes and winks from any female (and sometimes male, depending whether or not Michael and Richard were out) passers-by, but now that they have a dog with them, people are starting to come over.
“Is that your dog?” Marian from South Meridian Avenue asks with a charming smile, looking at them through her lashes. “She’s so adorable. What’s her name? Can I pet her?”
“Isn’t she just the cutest thing!” Jillian from Las Flores Street exclaims as she alters her course to pass by them, offering them both a sweet, flirty smile.
“Dear God, where did you get her? She’s gorgeous, dears,” Margaret from Westmont Drive coos as she pauses in her morning walk to ruffle Charlotte’s fur and flashes her dimples coquettishly.
And while Eames and Arthur are both growing continually more uncomfortable with the attention, Charlotte loves it. She rolls all over the ground, her belly presented for scratches, until her possibly-temporary owners are sick of being hit on by desperate women (who may or may not be aware that Arthur and Eames are already married to each other), so they tug at the leash until Charlotte gets up and jumps after them.
-o-
“That was-frankly, frightening. Dogs bring out the animal in single women.” Arthur hands the leash back to Eames so he can hold onto Charlotte as she explores the ground around their steps. He unlocks the door, then holds his hand out for the lead’s plastic handle. When it is in his grip, he gently pulls on it to direct Charlotte up the stairs. Eames gives her a helpful nudge to the butt with his foot.
She yips, then races up and into the house.
In surprise at the sudden action, Arthur’s hand goes lax on the leash, and Charlotte pulls it away. “Don’t get too comfortable!” Arthur shouts after her as she rockets around the kitchen and the living room before plopping down on the carpet, her gasping breaths making her entire tiny body heave.
Eames laughs and joins Arthur on the top step, placing his hand lightly on the back of his neck and squeezing. Arthur moans softly and leans into the half-massage with a smile.
“Come on,” Eames says soothingly. “Shower, yeah? Then she has to go to the vet.”
“I know,” Arthur sighs. “Okay.” Together they go inside and close the door behind them.
-o-
The veterinary clinic is neither cold nor bare; quite unlike Arthur’s half-formed notions of what it would be like. He had never had pets as a child, so he had never had any cause to pay any vet a visit. Now he sits a little uncomfortably in the waiting room with Charlotte snuffling around at the chairs and the other animals who are awaiting their turns to mount the chilly, stainless steel table beyond the door.
“Mr. Eames-DeLacey and Charlotte?” the pretty receptionist calls, and it makes Arthur smile to see how quickly Charlotte raises her head. She’s already adapted to her new name, it seems. “Doctor Ella will see you now.”
“Thank you,” Arthur says, standing and pulling a little on Charlotte’s leash until she trots over to his side. They go through the indicated door and on into the examination room.
“So, you’re Charlotte? I’ve never seen you around here before. You must be new.” The young woman, dressed in a lab coat, bends down to affectionately pet Charlotte’s head. When she straightens, she holds her hand out to Arthur. “My name is Susan Ella. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“And you. I’m Arthur Eames-DeLacey.” He shakes her hand, then scoops Charlotte up onto the table to be examined. She squirms the entire time, but stubbornly doesn’t want to leave by the time the check-up is over. Dr. Ella laughs, and finally Arthur just gives up and takes the dog into his arms.
“She’s perfectly healthy,” the doctor informs Arthur as she opens the door for him. “You were right, she’s just about a year old. She also looks to be a pure Samoyed, too. Very beautiful dog.”
“She is.” Arthur rubs his nose against the side of her head affectionately, and Charlotte barks and rubs back. He clips the lead to her collar and braces himself, then sets her down in the lobby.
She races for the door and Arthur laughs, jogging with her all the way back to the car.
-oxo-
-oxo-
May, 2035
No one calls. They wait a week, two weeks, but finally they decide to just to adopt Charlotte as their own. She seems happy enough with this arrangement, already in love with their fenced-in yard and long morning and evening jogs. Arthur and Eames start paying the girl who lives across the street to spend time with her and keep her busy and happy while they’re off at the station. Charlotte likes this, too, but she likes it even more when her men come home from work to play with her.
She waits by the door for them every night, and they always have smiles and love to give her.
They take her to the park, where she teaches Arthur how to play Frisbee and Eames how to throw a ball for her to bring back. She teaches them how to say sit, stay, and come here in a way she understands. In return, they teach her how to alert them before she jumps up on their bed, and how to know when to stop barking.
She also learns that even when they shove at each other, they don’t mean any harm.
But even under their laughter and easy bantering, she can tell something is wrong. It might be that Arthur frowns just a little too often, maybe, or that Eames sighs more frequently. They are not fighting, though; quite the contrary. If anything, they spend more time together than ever.
Then, one day near the end of the month, Eames spends a little longer ruffling her fur and telling her how much he loves her before he leaves. Arthur is sad-so sad, and she wants to comfort him, but he is leaving, too. He tells her to be good for Maggie, then kisses her forehead and follows Eames out the door, grasping his husband’s hand tightly.
-o-
“Promise me. Promise me you’ll be careful. I love you.”
“I love you, too, darling. I’ll be fine, so you take care of yourself, okay? Tell Charlotte I love her, and I’ll see you both soon.”
-o-
Eames doesn’t come home with Arthur.
She knows immediately that something is wrong from the set of Arthur’s shoulders, from the look in his eyes. For once, she doesn’t bark when she sees him, just goes over to him and whines softly, pawing at his knee.
He laughs softly and kneels down to pull her into his arms.
“James’ll be home soon,” he tells her, and his voice comes out slightly shaky. “Soon, and in one piece. He promised. If he’s not-well, I’ll shoot him myself.”
Charlotte licks the side of his face, flicking her ears back now and again as if unsure what to do. Finally, Arthur just sighs and messes up the fur on her sides. She gently bumps his chin with her nose.
Arthur lets her go with a pat to the head and wanders aimlessly into the kitchen, having grown unused to living alone since moving in with Eames. Charlotte follows at his heels, to keep him company.
The house feels too big for just the two of them as they eat dinner quietly. They watch TV until bedtime, then Arthur showers and puts on his pajamas.
Charlotte sleeps close to him that night.
-oxo-
June 17, 2035
“Are you going to come out to dinner with us, Arthur? I know you had a long day, but it’ll be fun. We’re getting drinks, and such.” Ariadne leans on the partition between Arthur’s desk and Fischer’s, smiling winningly. “Come on, it’ll be just a few of the guys-it’ll be fun. Like you wouldn’t imagine.”
“I can’t,” Arthur says, and as much as he loves his friends, he is not half as regretful as he sounds. “I have someone waiting for me.”
“Someone-” For a second, Ariadne looks like she is going to ask if Eames has come back yet, even though she knows it isn’t true. Then, her eyes widen comically and she leans over to pick a long strand of light-colored hair off of Arthur’s shoulder. “Oh. My. God. You’re not-”
Arthur lets her struggle with the words for a minute, one eyebrow raised, then smiles. “Charlotte’s waiting at home. I really can’t go out tonight.”
“Charlotte?” Fischer asks, glancing up in confusion and blinking when he catches sight of Ariadne’s wordlessly flapping mouth. “Who is Charlotte?”
“Oh!” Mal exclaims from her desk. “How is she settling in? All right? Not too lonely, I hope, with you gone all day.”
“No, we have a sitter to watch her and keep her company while we’re at work. She’s always so happy to see us-well, me, at the moment-when I get back, so I don’t like to stay away too long. She does get lonely.”
“You have a daughter?” Ariadne suddenly exclaims, mouth hanging open. “When the fuck were you and Eames going to tell me?”
“We don’t have a daughter,” Arthur tells her, patiently. “Just wait a minute, you’ll figure it out.”
“…Not a daughter?” She pauses, then examines the hair more closely. “Oh…oh! You have a dog!”
“Marvelous deduction,” Arthur praises teasingly. “You might want to be careful, or people might start mistaking you for a detective.”
“Oh, shush, you,” the girl huffs in response. “Rob, stop laughing! You’re supposed to be on my side!”
“I am,” Fischer assures her, placing a hand over his mouth to keep from letting any more chuckles escape. “As much as there are sides in this, I am completely on yours. I assure you.”
“…Okay,” Ariadne finally says. “So, not tonight. But when Eames gets home, yeah? You’ll come out with us?”
“Yeah. When James comes home.”
Mal lays her hand gently on his arm, pausing on her way to the door and her husband. “You let me know if you need anything, okay? You and Charlotte are always welcome at our house, if you get lonely. You know that, don’t you?”
And Arthur does, just as he knows he will never burden them by staying the night when they don’t need him to baby-sit, their house already full to bursting with two excited children. He nods anyway, just to see her smile.
“Good.” She kisses his cheeks and crosses the bullpen to embrace Cobb, kissing him chastely on the mouth. “Shall we go?”
He nods and they take their exit, followed soon by Parker who is talking with his wife on the phone, and then by Ariadne and Fischer, hand in hand. Arthur sighs and finishes packing his briefcase, pulling out his phone to let his finger hover just over the first number in his speed-dial.
Eventually, he shakes his head and returns it to his pocket, pulling on his suit jacket and heading for the elevator, the car, and home.
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Part Three