Inception: A/A - 'It's Not A Secret; Why Do You Keep It?'
Fanfic! It is happening!
I gotta tell you after a loooong time of being out of the habit of writing it feels bloody marvelous to start again.
Without further ado, here is my first new piece:
Title 'It's Not A Secret; Why Do You Keep It?'
Fandom Inception
Rating T
Pairing Arthur/Ariadne
Disclaimer None of it's mine, your honour.
Word count 2049
Summary Ariadne has a strange encounter with an oddly familiar man who is not what he appears to be. Basically rips off the adorable video for the She & Him song 'Why Do You Let Me Stay Here?' I swear I have more original fics on the way. This idea was just too cute to pass up. XD
Ariadne's feet hurt. She shifted stiffly from one foot to the other, arching her back slightly at the same time in an attempt to stretch out the lower spine agony that only comes from standing for a very long time on a very hard floor in very cute but impractical shoes. She was sore, bored and cold. Her stylish 50's blue dress and cardigan combo were doing little to keep her warm against the chill of the immense, imposing interior of the bank building. Ariadne tapped her fingers impatiently and fiddled with her string of pearls. She prayed desperately for there to be a fire alarm or a freak powercut or something to release her from the doldrum of this seemingly endless work day. A steady murmur of voices from across the room echoed softly up towards the lofty vaulted ceiling, creating a low ambient drone. The huge clock ticked regularly. Weak sunlight struggled through the high up windows to suffuse the large room with a muted bluish-grey light.
The mica in the stone countertops shimmered slightly in the dim light. She wondered vaguely if she might possibly slip into a boredom coma and bang her head off said countertop as she fell. Brisk purposeful footsteps were making their way towards her work station. Taking a deep breath, she prepared to hoist up a big fake smile and looked up. Her stomach flipped.
Striding towards her was a very handsome youngish man with dark hair swept back from his face. He was wearing a well tailored and obviously expensive dark navy suit. Black sunglasses hid his eyes. Ariadne's pulse quickened as she picked out features with the precision of a very bored, very red-blooded woman. Strong jaw. Nice neck. Broad shoulders. Sensual mouth.. Lean but toned build under the suit. 'There is nothing sexier than a fine-looking man in an immaculate suit.' She thought appreciatively.
She took a breath to go into her customer service spiel, when he abruptly brought a money bag and note out of an inside jacket pocket. Ariadne smiled a little bewilderedly, taking them. His face was expressionless. So he was a little eccentric, he was cute enough to get away with it. Unfolding the note, she read the message. She went cold.
'Don't make a sound. Put five stacks of unmarked $500 bills in the bag. Quickly. No fuss. Cooperate and you live.'
The happy butterflies in her stomach curdled into fear as she looked up at the man standing opposite her. His face was still impassive. A quick glance to either side revealed she was all alone at the tellers booths. As she looked back to him he opened the left side of his jacket slightly, revealing a handgun holstered there. Her mouth dry, Ariadne took the money bag with shaking hands and opened the cash drawer underneath the desk. She kept on glancing up at him as she did so, afraid to take her eyes off him. He continued to stare at her, face blank.
As she finished fumbling the money into the bag she slid it towards him. A strong, warm hand was suddenly placed over hers. The knuckles were scarred. Far from frightening her, her fear suddenly dissolved. Glancing up, she saw his face had barely changed. But...was that a hint of a smile? She had to see his eyes to be sure. Without thinking she reached across the desk and pulled the dark glasses from his face. A smile so faint she wanted to reach out and catch it flitted around intense dark brown eyes. The butterflies were back. Along with the faintest flicker of recognition.
Suddenly feeling reckless, Ariadne put on the sunglasses, hoisting herself up onto the cold counter and giddily spinning round. Her heart was beating too loudly for her to hear reason just at that moment. He ducked under one of her legs as she spun but caught the other. The foot rested on his shoulder, him stroking up and down her slim leg intimately. The look in his eyes was wicked. She threw off the sunglasses. Again the tickle of recognition in the back of her brain.
Her eyes didn't leave his as he lifted her off the counter and spun them round. She could feel the strength of his arms as he held her, could smell his aftershave. As he set her down she coquettishly walked away a little distance and stood still, letting her hips sway, her full skirts rustling and brushing her legs. Feeling vixenish she looked over her shoulder and beckoned him closer. He quickly complied, looking at her with something like wonder as she made a show of examining her nails. She turned to find him barely a few inches away from her. Ariadne mock frowned at him and put both her hands up in a “stop” motion. He looked bemused and mimicked her movement. Ariadne walked around him, relishing the fact that he turned to watch her. She framed his face with her hands, teasingly waving her fingers over his skin. She spun round again, knowing he would follow her.
They danced like old friends, careening across the bank floor in a wonderful mishmash of styles. She would mince away from him and he would go after her on his knees, like a man confessing his love. They spun and twirled into tango, ballroom, swing dance. Skipping, hopping, shuffling across the floor. At one point she hop-scotched away from him, only to have him follow after her with back flips. She pouted at his show-off behaviour, pushing him in an attempt to make him lose his balance. He merely looked bemused.
They spun and embraced and all the while both beamed. They danced over counters and floors, through doorways, into private offices. And if Ariadne thought it was strange her boss didn't come to chastise her for her abberant behaviour, she quickly pushed the thought out of her mind. Her blood sung in her veins and she was breathless with laughter and the exertion of the dance.
He danced like a Cossack on her manager's desk, whilst she tapdanced on his assisstants's them each giving each other a bow when they were through. Back on the floor, Ariadne bourréed as well as she could in heels whilst he did a comedy walk that even John Cleese would be proud of. Catching her around the waist he lifted her, and Ariadne swore her face would split she was smiling so hard. Facing each other they shimmied their shoulders, leaning back as the other leaned forward. Ariadne had a sudden impulse to lean forward and catch his lips in a kiss.
Again, more insistently that nag of recognition, of memory. She'd kissed this man before, what seemed like a very long time ago.
Suddenly his grin turned crooked as he raised his arm and spun his finger, indicating she should twirl round. Ariadne was about to shake her head and walk way, teasing him again, but to her great surprise she found herself spinning against her will. Her arms raised as she pirouetted once, twice, three times, and suddenly felt a great deal more dizzy than she should have done. Gravity seemed to shift as she leaned, then fell back, slowly, oh so impossibly slowly. Arthur all the while standing over her waving his hands like a hypnotist or a magician. Both realisations struck at once; who he was and what his presence (and the strange gravity) meant.
Ariadne fell back with impossible slowness and grace, feeling weightless as a familiar falling sensation rose in her stomach. She desperately tried to right herself, stop the fall and catch Arthur up again in their dance but it was too late. She had fallen so far back she felt as though she was upside down, blood thundering in her head. Then she was rising up once more to see Arthur, in front of the desk again, faintest hint of a smile playing on his face. In her trembling fingers she held his sunglasses. He regarded her silently, as if daring her to admit something. She quickly put the glasses back on him, not able to stand the look any longer. The tiny smile vanished. Without a word he took the bag of money and walked out of the bank, leaving Ariadne feeling as though she had done something wrong.
****
Muzzily she pulled her earbuds from her ears. Wired after the Fischer job and doubting she'd ever really sleep again, she'd been listening to music. Evidently she had passed out on the couch listening to her favourite She & Him album. Stumbling to the hotel bathroom she went to the sink and drank from the tap. The cold metallic water made her teeth hurt. Straightening up, the girl in the mirror looking back at her was pale and wild-eyed. Yusuf had warned her that vertigo and dizziness could be common side effects of your first extended use of Somnacin. That and vivid dreams the first couple of nights after.
She dug her totem out of her pocket, turning the brass bishop piece over in her hand, finding the tiny nicks and imperfections. The sharp ridge at the bottom where she had purposefully ground it down a little rough. Setting it down on the bathroom counter, she knocked it over with one finger. A single clink proclaimed that this was, indeed, reality. A reality in which Ariadne was halfway across the world from home, having just pulled off a supposedly impossible crime in someone's mind, totally alone in a five star hotel room that she hadn't even paid for or picked out herself. She was starting to feel dizzy again.
Ariadne padded out of the bathroom and in to the bed. Hugging her knees like a child, she set her totem on the bedside cabinet and tipped it over repeatedly, the sound in time with the loud, heavy pulse of her heart. Hysterical giggles began to bubble up in her throat.
Seeing Arthur so free and playful had been nice. It was like secret little gift from her subconscious. More than that, it was a pretty strong hint. The look the projection had been giving her had been quite obvious. 'Admit it. Admit you want me.'
She had no idea how long she'd been sitting there when her phone rang. She let it go to voicemail, not feeling up to holding a conversation. Her totem kept falling, a steady continuous beat. What was she supposed to do? She had the rest of the semester off, so she didn't have to go back to Paris and she couldn't go back into dream crime right away. She supposed she could call on her family now she was stateside but the mere thought made her cringe. Ideas swirled round and round in her head. Eventually, she picked up the phone. She didn't recognise the number that had called her.
'Hey, just checking you're ok after the nastiest intro to the biz you could possibly have.' It was Arthur's voice. 'You did great. I mean really....just amazing. I look forward to working with you again. Hopefully it's just the Somnacin making you ill that's stopping you from picking up. Sorry 'bout that by the way, you'll just have to let it work out of your system. Anyway call me on this number if you need anything. It's my personal line.'
Ariadne's bit her lip. There was that falling feeling again in the pit of her stomach. He'd said no contact for at least a month after the job.
'And yes,' His voice dropped to a teasing whisper. 'I realise I'm breaking my own rules. I'm taking a leaf out of Cobb's book. Best of luck with your studies.'
Ariadne laughed, feeling steadier. She didn't even notice that the dropping of her totem had slowed then stopped as she listened to Arthur's voice. Walking steadily over to the landline she ordered room service. She didn't quite know what she was going to do but it was a start.. She'd call Arthur back to let him know she was okay (he would worry if she didn't, he was that sort), have a good meal and then a proper sleep.
If she was lucky, maybe she'd have another dream.
I gotta tell you after a loooong time of being out of the habit of writing it feels bloody marvelous to start again.
Without further ado, here is my first new piece:
Title 'It's Not A Secret; Why Do You Keep It?'
Fandom Inception
Rating T
Pairing Arthur/Ariadne
Disclaimer None of it's mine, your honour.
Word count 2049
Summary Ariadne has a strange encounter with an oddly familiar man who is not what he appears to be. Basically rips off the adorable video for the She & Him song 'Why Do You Let Me Stay Here?' I swear I have more original fics on the way. This idea was just too cute to pass up. XD
Click to viewAriadne's feet hurt. She shifted stiffly from one foot to the other, arching her back slightly at the same time in an attempt to stretch out the lower spine agony that only comes from standing for a very long time on a very hard floor in very cute but impractical shoes. She was sore, bored and cold. Her stylish 50's blue dress and cardigan combo were doing little to keep her warm against the chill of the immense, imposing interior of the bank building. Ariadne tapped her fingers impatiently and fiddled with her string of pearls. She prayed desperately for there to be a fire alarm or a freak powercut or something to release her from the doldrum of this seemingly endless work day. A steady murmur of voices from across the room echoed softly up towards the lofty vaulted ceiling, creating a low ambient drone. The huge clock ticked regularly. Weak sunlight struggled through the high up windows to suffuse the large room with a muted bluish-grey light.
The mica in the stone countertops shimmered slightly in the dim light. She wondered vaguely if she might possibly slip into a boredom coma and bang her head off said countertop as she fell. Brisk purposeful footsteps were making their way towards her work station. Taking a deep breath, she prepared to hoist up a big fake smile and looked up. Her stomach flipped.
Striding towards her was a very handsome youngish man with dark hair swept back from his face. He was wearing a well tailored and obviously expensive dark navy suit. Black sunglasses hid his eyes. Ariadne's pulse quickened as she picked out features with the precision of a very bored, very red-blooded woman. Strong jaw. Nice neck. Broad shoulders. Sensual mouth.. Lean but toned build under the suit. 'There is nothing sexier than a fine-looking man in an immaculate suit.' She thought appreciatively.
She took a breath to go into her customer service spiel, when he abruptly brought a money bag and note out of an inside jacket pocket. Ariadne smiled a little bewilderedly, taking them. His face was expressionless. So he was a little eccentric, he was cute enough to get away with it. Unfolding the note, she read the message. She went cold.
'Don't make a sound. Put five stacks of unmarked $500 bills in the bag. Quickly. No fuss. Cooperate and you live.'
The happy butterflies in her stomach curdled into fear as she looked up at the man standing opposite her. His face was still impassive. A quick glance to either side revealed she was all alone at the tellers booths. As she looked back to him he opened the left side of his jacket slightly, revealing a handgun holstered there. Her mouth dry, Ariadne took the money bag with shaking hands and opened the cash drawer underneath the desk. She kept on glancing up at him as she did so, afraid to take her eyes off him. He continued to stare at her, face blank.
As she finished fumbling the money into the bag she slid it towards him. A strong, warm hand was suddenly placed over hers. The knuckles were scarred. Far from frightening her, her fear suddenly dissolved. Glancing up, she saw his face had barely changed. But...was that a hint of a smile? She had to see his eyes to be sure. Without thinking she reached across the desk and pulled the dark glasses from his face. A smile so faint she wanted to reach out and catch it flitted around intense dark brown eyes. The butterflies were back. Along with the faintest flicker of recognition.
Suddenly feeling reckless, Ariadne put on the sunglasses, hoisting herself up onto the cold counter and giddily spinning round. Her heart was beating too loudly for her to hear reason just at that moment. He ducked under one of her legs as she spun but caught the other. The foot rested on his shoulder, him stroking up and down her slim leg intimately. The look in his eyes was wicked. She threw off the sunglasses. Again the tickle of recognition in the back of her brain.
Her eyes didn't leave his as he lifted her off the counter and spun them round. She could feel the strength of his arms as he held her, could smell his aftershave. As he set her down she coquettishly walked away a little distance and stood still, letting her hips sway, her full skirts rustling and brushing her legs. Feeling vixenish she looked over her shoulder and beckoned him closer. He quickly complied, looking at her with something like wonder as she made a show of examining her nails. She turned to find him barely a few inches away from her. Ariadne mock frowned at him and put both her hands up in a “stop” motion. He looked bemused and mimicked her movement. Ariadne walked around him, relishing the fact that he turned to watch her. She framed his face with her hands, teasingly waving her fingers over his skin. She spun round again, knowing he would follow her.
They danced like old friends, careening across the bank floor in a wonderful mishmash of styles. She would mince away from him and he would go after her on his knees, like a man confessing his love. They spun and twirled into tango, ballroom, swing dance. Skipping, hopping, shuffling across the floor. At one point she hop-scotched away from him, only to have him follow after her with back flips. She pouted at his show-off behaviour, pushing him in an attempt to make him lose his balance. He merely looked bemused.
They spun and embraced and all the while both beamed. They danced over counters and floors, through doorways, into private offices. And if Ariadne thought it was strange her boss didn't come to chastise her for her abberant behaviour, she quickly pushed the thought out of her mind. Her blood sung in her veins and she was breathless with laughter and the exertion of the dance.
He danced like a Cossack on her manager's desk, whilst she tapdanced on his assisstants's them each giving each other a bow when they were through. Back on the floor, Ariadne bourréed as well as she could in heels whilst he did a comedy walk that even John Cleese would be proud of. Catching her around the waist he lifted her, and Ariadne swore her face would split she was smiling so hard. Facing each other they shimmied their shoulders, leaning back as the other leaned forward. Ariadne had a sudden impulse to lean forward and catch his lips in a kiss.
Again, more insistently that nag of recognition, of memory. She'd kissed this man before, what seemed like a very long time ago.
Suddenly his grin turned crooked as he raised his arm and spun his finger, indicating she should twirl round. Ariadne was about to shake her head and walk way, teasing him again, but to her great surprise she found herself spinning against her will. Her arms raised as she pirouetted once, twice, three times, and suddenly felt a great deal more dizzy than she should have done. Gravity seemed to shift as she leaned, then fell back, slowly, oh so impossibly slowly. Arthur all the while standing over her waving his hands like a hypnotist or a magician. Both realisations struck at once; who he was and what his presence (and the strange gravity) meant.
Ariadne fell back with impossible slowness and grace, feeling weightless as a familiar falling sensation rose in her stomach. She desperately tried to right herself, stop the fall and catch Arthur up again in their dance but it was too late. She had fallen so far back she felt as though she was upside down, blood thundering in her head. Then she was rising up once more to see Arthur, in front of the desk again, faintest hint of a smile playing on his face. In her trembling fingers she held his sunglasses. He regarded her silently, as if daring her to admit something. She quickly put the glasses back on him, not able to stand the look any longer. The tiny smile vanished. Without a word he took the bag of money and walked out of the bank, leaving Ariadne feeling as though she had done something wrong.
****
Muzzily she pulled her earbuds from her ears. Wired after the Fischer job and doubting she'd ever really sleep again, she'd been listening to music. Evidently she had passed out on the couch listening to her favourite She & Him album. Stumbling to the hotel bathroom she went to the sink and drank from the tap. The cold metallic water made her teeth hurt. Straightening up, the girl in the mirror looking back at her was pale and wild-eyed. Yusuf had warned her that vertigo and dizziness could be common side effects of your first extended use of Somnacin. That and vivid dreams the first couple of nights after.
She dug her totem out of her pocket, turning the brass bishop piece over in her hand, finding the tiny nicks and imperfections. The sharp ridge at the bottom where she had purposefully ground it down a little rough. Setting it down on the bathroom counter, she knocked it over with one finger. A single clink proclaimed that this was, indeed, reality. A reality in which Ariadne was halfway across the world from home, having just pulled off a supposedly impossible crime in someone's mind, totally alone in a five star hotel room that she hadn't even paid for or picked out herself. She was starting to feel dizzy again.
Ariadne padded out of the bathroom and in to the bed. Hugging her knees like a child, she set her totem on the bedside cabinet and tipped it over repeatedly, the sound in time with the loud, heavy pulse of her heart. Hysterical giggles began to bubble up in her throat.
Seeing Arthur so free and playful had been nice. It was like secret little gift from her subconscious. More than that, it was a pretty strong hint. The look the projection had been giving her had been quite obvious. 'Admit it. Admit you want me.'
She had no idea how long she'd been sitting there when her phone rang. She let it go to voicemail, not feeling up to holding a conversation. Her totem kept falling, a steady continuous beat. What was she supposed to do? She had the rest of the semester off, so she didn't have to go back to Paris and she couldn't go back into dream crime right away. She supposed she could call on her family now she was stateside but the mere thought made her cringe. Ideas swirled round and round in her head. Eventually, she picked up the phone. She didn't recognise the number that had called her.
'Hey, just checking you're ok after the nastiest intro to the biz you could possibly have.' It was Arthur's voice. 'You did great. I mean really....just amazing. I look forward to working with you again. Hopefully it's just the Somnacin making you ill that's stopping you from picking up. Sorry 'bout that by the way, you'll just have to let it work out of your system. Anyway call me on this number if you need anything. It's my personal line.'
Ariadne's bit her lip. There was that falling feeling again in the pit of her stomach. He'd said no contact for at least a month after the job.
'And yes,' His voice dropped to a teasing whisper. 'I realise I'm breaking my own rules. I'm taking a leaf out of Cobb's book. Best of luck with your studies.'
Ariadne laughed, feeling steadier. She didn't even notice that the dropping of her totem had slowed then stopped as she listened to Arthur's voice. Walking steadily over to the landline she ordered room service. She didn't quite know what she was going to do but it was a start.. She'd call Arthur back to let him know she was okay (he would worry if she didn't, he was that sort), have a good meal and then a proper sleep.
If she was lucky, maybe she'd have another dream.