Fic: The Twelve Labors of Eames
Title: The Twelve Labors of Eames
Author: lothlorienbaby
Fandom: Inception
Rating: PG (for language)
Word Count: ~1,700
Characters/Pairings: Arthur/Eames, cameos by other Inception characters
Warnings: Unbeta’d crack!fic, abuse of Greek mythology and ancient Greece, anachronisms for all, and Eames gives away a spoiler for The Iliad.
Author’s Notes: Inspired by a line from cobweb_diamond ’s lovely Six Nights on the RMS Inception, April 1911 in which Eames wonders if mythical tasks will be required to get Arthur’s permission to draw him. Based on the 12 Labors of Heracles/Hercules story. If you are completely unfamiliar with the 12 labors, you may want to give this site a glance first.
Summary: Mythical tasks are required for Eames to win Arthur’s heart.
“You realize how mad this is, right? Because if you don’t then we need to have a talk.”
“You asked what you could do to win my heart and I told you. Perhaps you should have thought it through a little more carefully before asking.”
Eames just sighs (a touch overdramatically, but he feels the situation warrants it), picks up his sword, and looks Arthur in the eye. “With your shield or on it then, is it darling?”
“Of course.”
Of course.
First Labor: The Nemean Lion
When Eames reaches the cave, there is a massive lion staring at him with dark, hungry eyes.
“I was kind of hoping you would be metaphorical.” He says conversationally.
The lion grins, wide and terrible.
* **
Eames is a study in filth as he marches triumphantly into Arthur’s courtyard, dried blood and dirt unable to hide his wide grin.
Arthur’s eyebrow twitches.
“So will you be displaying this symbol of my affection in the courtyard where everyone can see?”
“Of course not. I’ll be making a rather fantastic suit out of it,” Arthur says, fingers lightly caressing the tangled mane.
Second Labor: The Lernaean Hydra
“You’re waiting for a monster. A monster that will take both of us to defeat. You know how you hope this fight will end, but you can’t know for sure. But it doesn’t matter. Now tell me why.”
“Because Arthur and I will be together.”
Abruptly the world is silent with a pregnant pause of fear and horror. A tremble in the lake gives way to a deafening rush of water as the monster slithers into view. Its skin is slick with slime, rows of impossibly sharp teeth revealed as each of its heads opens its reeking mouth in a paralyzing screech.
Cobb finally breaks their silence. “We’re going to need fire. A lot of it.”
***
“This one doesn’t count.”
Eames blinks. “I killed the damn thing, didn’t I?”
“You had help.”
“You never said I couldn’t have help. Perhaps you should have thought this through a little more carefully, darling.”
Arthur sighs. “Alright. But now it’s eleven tasks instead of ten.”
Fuck.
Third Labor: The Golden Hind
“Turn around.”
Eames turns slowly, gently lowering the handles of his makeshift stretcher so as not to wake the unconscious animal.
“Now the deer, Mr. Eames.”
“Did someone tell you or have you known all along, Lord Saito?”
“That you were here to steal from me? Or that you were going to wear that ridiculous outfit?”
Eames knows better than to argue with the sartorial observations of a god.
“I want to know who your employer is.”
“Actually I’m doing this for love, Lord Saito.”
Saito considers him for a long moment.
***
Arthur glances up from The Iliad. “I hear Saito caught you.”
Eames smiles. “Yes, I believe only my gods-given talent for pronouncing his name correctly saved me.”
Arthur huffs and turns back to the book.
“You know Achilles is shot through the heel with an arrow and dies, right?”
Arthur throws the book at him.
Fourth Labor: The Erymanthian Boar
“It’s just a very large pig. That’s all. Really. No big deal.”
A sound like thunder and a deep-throated snort as if the earth were preparing to open up and swallow him whole. Eames peeks around the boulder and encounters a long white tusk, impossibly sharp and covered with flecks of blood. He inches back to his original position and takes a few long deep breaths.
And then because he’s sure his plan is just mad enough to work, he jumps up and runs towards the beast screaming loudly. The startled boar screeches and runs in the opposite direction.
Eames follows because chasing is what he does best.
***
Arthur is nowhere to be seen when Eames arrives, dragging the sulking boar in a net behind him.
“Arthur? I’ve got your very large pig!”
A whispered curse draws Eames’s attention to a large jar in the corner of the courtyard. Eames lets go of the net and peers into the jar.
Arthur leaps up. “Yes, well, good job. Now go away.”
“Arthur…were you hiding in a jar?”
“No, obviously I dropped my totem in the jar and the only way to retrieve it was to get inside.”
Eames raises both eyebrows. “Obviously.”
Fifth Labor: The Augean Stables
“Honestly, I don’t understand how this is particularly heroic. I mean, killing huge fucking monsters that’s heroic. Stealing mythical creatures, that’s heroic. How is cleaning stables heroic?”
The horse just whinnies.
“Exactly my point. I’m definitely getting to him if he’s got me literally knee deep in shit.”
***
“This one doesn’t count either.” Arthur doesn’t look up, but Eames can see his fingers trembling a little.
“What?! I didn’t have help and one could even argue that the animals actively sabotaged me.”
“You were paid. That makes it a job. Not a labor.”
Eames rolls his eyes. “You can get paid for labor too.”
Arthur looks up. “Twelve is a nice even number, isn’t it?”
Double fuck.
Sixth Labor: The Stymphalian Birds
“Are these castanets?”
“No, they are my own version of castanets. Sound function will be about twenty times normal.”
“How are they against man-eating birds?”
“Ah, that’s the clever part. I customized the castanets to leave the inner ear function of fowls impaired.”
“Yusuf, you are a brilliant man.”
***
“Are you going to use the feathers to make a hat?”
A smile tries to apply itself to Arthur’s mouth and fails to get beyond a smirk. “Perhaps, Mr. Eames. Perhaps.”
Seventh Labor: The Cretan Bull
“It’s something, isn’t it?” Ariadne beams.
“Yes, it is.” Eames says quietly, reaching out to take the object.
“Aren’t you going to tell me anything first?”
“It’s not, strictly speaking, labyrinthal.”
“But if there’s no maze involved how will this help?”
“It’s not for the bull, Ariadne.”
The bull is big and dumb. It takes Eames about two minutes to wrestle it to the ground. He wonders if Arthur is even trying anymore.
***
Arthur is feigning disinterest again.
“I thought this would go very nicely with the lion skin for your suit.” Eames produces a large spool of golden thread.
Even Arthur can’t stop the smile that widens his eyes in surprise and appreciation.
Forgotten, the bull wanders off into another story.
Eighth Labor: The Mares of Diomedes
Horses again. Arthur is definitely off his game. Then Eames realizes that they are man-eating horses and he smiles.
***
“What does one do with man-eating horses exactly?”
“Nothing. I’ll probably let them go in a couple of days.”
“That seems unwise. Don’t you want to keep them?”
“It’s not really about them.”
Arthur isn’t looking at him, but Eames smiles broadly.
Ninth Labor: The Amazonian Belt
“Why does Arthur want you to get Robert Fischer’s belt?” Cobb asks.
“I think he’s under the impression that it will go nicely with his lion suit.” Eames replies.
“It must be a really nice belt.” Yusuf says.
“Custom made in Brazil. Worth more than $500 from what I hear.” Eames smiles.
“So what’s the plan?” Ariadne asks.
“We’re going to convince Fischer’s subconscious that the belt is hideously unflattering and that he should discard it immediately.”
“Are you crazy? His projections are militarized.”
“I’m fairly certain he could afford to send a real army to retrieve the belt if we steal it. Better an army of projections than a real army.”
Eames has a point.
***
“Eames, I am impressed.” Arthur says, running his fingers over the belt with something like lust.
“Your condescension, as always, is much appreciated Arthur.” Eames laughs.
Tenth Labor: The Cattle of Geryon
Stealing the cattle is relatively easy. Herding the cattle is another matter altogether. Every time he counts, there appear to be some missing and he has to track the wayward cows down. Eames finds one stray in the Fischer-Morrow herd and has to wrestle Peter Browning for it. The others all turn up in various villages and farms and most people hand the cows over without a fuss, but a journey of days becomes weeks.
He hates cows.
***
Arthur is wearing his lion suit when Eames finally gets the herd to him.
Eames is too tired to properly appreciate the way the golden thread glints in the sun or how incandescent the bronze suit makes Arthur’s skin appear. Or just how well Fischer’s belt completes the ensemble. He’s even too tired to make a crack about missing a feather hat.
But he can appreciate the warmth of Arthur’s skin as Arthur cradles him to his shoulder.
Eleventh Labor: The Apples of the Hesperides
Stealing from the gods once is inadvisable. Stealing from them twice…that’s suicide. Eames manages to convince Cobb to steal the apples in return for babysitting James and Philippa. Eames tells them stories about their mother (both from dreams and reality), makes every kind of sweet treat the kids can name, and teaches them the proper way to sneak into a room without being detected.
When Cobb returns, the kids are so rambunctious that he tries to back out of the house slowly, telling Eames that he’ll take the apples to Arthur instead. Eames distracts him with a spinning top and sprints off with the apples.
***
In the end, neither Arthur nor Eames even gets to taste the apples before Saito appears to reclaim them. They take it as a good sign that he doesn’t curse them to be pecked to death for eternity or turn them into cows.
“Especially cows.” Eames says with a shudder.
Twelfth Labor: The Hound of Hell
Rancid, viscous saliva drips from one of the mouths onto his shoulder. The low growl that rumbles in the colossal hell hound’s chest shakes the floor and Eames nearly topples over.
“Well, I did tell him to dream bigger.” Eames says aloud, his neck starting to ache from looking up.
He lunges at the beast with bare hands.
***
“Why a hell hound?”
Arthur looks almost surprised. “I have it on good authority that you love dogs.” He tosses a treat to Cerberus, who wags his serpent’s tail enthusiastically.
Eames does look surprised. “Well, yes. But a three-headed soul-devouring hell hound can hardly be described as a dog.”
Arthur laughs and places his hands on Eames’s cheeks, his fingers brushing gently against his ears.
Aeolus ceases the winds. Apollo lowers his flute. The Horae pause in their duties.
And Arthur kisses him.
~
the end
~
Author: lothlorienbaby
Fandom: Inception
Rating: PG (for language)
Word Count: ~1,700
Characters/Pairings: Arthur/Eames, cameos by other Inception characters
Warnings: Unbeta’d crack!fic, abuse of Greek mythology and ancient Greece, anachronisms for all, and Eames gives away a spoiler for The Iliad.
Author’s Notes: Inspired by a line from cobweb_diamond ’s lovely Six Nights on the RMS Inception, April 1911 in which Eames wonders if mythical tasks will be required to get Arthur’s permission to draw him. Based on the 12 Labors of Heracles/Hercules story. If you are completely unfamiliar with the 12 labors, you may want to give this site a glance first.
Summary: Mythical tasks are required for Eames to win Arthur’s heart.
“You realize how mad this is, right? Because if you don’t then we need to have a talk.”
“You asked what you could do to win my heart and I told you. Perhaps you should have thought it through a little more carefully before asking.”
Eames just sighs (a touch overdramatically, but he feels the situation warrants it), picks up his sword, and looks Arthur in the eye. “With your shield or on it then, is it darling?”
“Of course.”
Of course.
First Labor: The Nemean Lion
When Eames reaches the cave, there is a massive lion staring at him with dark, hungry eyes.
“I was kind of hoping you would be metaphorical.” He says conversationally.
The lion grins, wide and terrible.
* **
Eames is a study in filth as he marches triumphantly into Arthur’s courtyard, dried blood and dirt unable to hide his wide grin.
Arthur’s eyebrow twitches.
“So will you be displaying this symbol of my affection in the courtyard where everyone can see?”
“Of course not. I’ll be making a rather fantastic suit out of it,” Arthur says, fingers lightly caressing the tangled mane.
Second Labor: The Lernaean Hydra
“You’re waiting for a monster. A monster that will take both of us to defeat. You know how you hope this fight will end, but you can’t know for sure. But it doesn’t matter. Now tell me why.”
“Because Arthur and I will be together.”
Abruptly the world is silent with a pregnant pause of fear and horror. A tremble in the lake gives way to a deafening rush of water as the monster slithers into view. Its skin is slick with slime, rows of impossibly sharp teeth revealed as each of its heads opens its reeking mouth in a paralyzing screech.
Cobb finally breaks their silence. “We’re going to need fire. A lot of it.”
***
“This one doesn’t count.”
Eames blinks. “I killed the damn thing, didn’t I?”
“You had help.”
“You never said I couldn’t have help. Perhaps you should have thought this through a little more carefully, darling.”
Arthur sighs. “Alright. But now it’s eleven tasks instead of ten.”
Fuck.
Third Labor: The Golden Hind
“Turn around.”
Eames turns slowly, gently lowering the handles of his makeshift stretcher so as not to wake the unconscious animal.
“Now the deer, Mr. Eames.”
“Did someone tell you or have you known all along, Lord Saito?”
“That you were here to steal from me? Or that you were going to wear that ridiculous outfit?”
Eames knows better than to argue with the sartorial observations of a god.
“I want to know who your employer is.”
“Actually I’m doing this for love, Lord Saito.”
Saito considers him for a long moment.
***
Arthur glances up from The Iliad. “I hear Saito caught you.”
Eames smiles. “Yes, I believe only my gods-given talent for pronouncing his name correctly saved me.”
Arthur huffs and turns back to the book.
“You know Achilles is shot through the heel with an arrow and dies, right?”
Arthur throws the book at him.
Fourth Labor: The Erymanthian Boar
“It’s just a very large pig. That’s all. Really. No big deal.”
A sound like thunder and a deep-throated snort as if the earth were preparing to open up and swallow him whole. Eames peeks around the boulder and encounters a long white tusk, impossibly sharp and covered with flecks of blood. He inches back to his original position and takes a few long deep breaths.
And then because he’s sure his plan is just mad enough to work, he jumps up and runs towards the beast screaming loudly. The startled boar screeches and runs in the opposite direction.
Eames follows because chasing is what he does best.
***
Arthur is nowhere to be seen when Eames arrives, dragging the sulking boar in a net behind him.
“Arthur? I’ve got your very large pig!”
A whispered curse draws Eames’s attention to a large jar in the corner of the courtyard. Eames lets go of the net and peers into the jar.
Arthur leaps up. “Yes, well, good job. Now go away.”
“Arthur…were you hiding in a jar?”
“No, obviously I dropped my totem in the jar and the only way to retrieve it was to get inside.”
Eames raises both eyebrows. “Obviously.”
Fifth Labor: The Augean Stables
“Honestly, I don’t understand how this is particularly heroic. I mean, killing huge fucking monsters that’s heroic. Stealing mythical creatures, that’s heroic. How is cleaning stables heroic?”
The horse just whinnies.
“Exactly my point. I’m definitely getting to him if he’s got me literally knee deep in shit.”
***
“This one doesn’t count either.” Arthur doesn’t look up, but Eames can see his fingers trembling a little.
“What?! I didn’t have help and one could even argue that the animals actively sabotaged me.”
“You were paid. That makes it a job. Not a labor.”
Eames rolls his eyes. “You can get paid for labor too.”
Arthur looks up. “Twelve is a nice even number, isn’t it?”
Double fuck.
Sixth Labor: The Stymphalian Birds
“Are these castanets?”
“No, they are my own version of castanets. Sound function will be about twenty times normal.”
“How are they against man-eating birds?”
“Ah, that’s the clever part. I customized the castanets to leave the inner ear function of fowls impaired.”
“Yusuf, you are a brilliant man.”
***
“Are you going to use the feathers to make a hat?”
A smile tries to apply itself to Arthur’s mouth and fails to get beyond a smirk. “Perhaps, Mr. Eames. Perhaps.”
Seventh Labor: The Cretan Bull
“It’s something, isn’t it?” Ariadne beams.
“Yes, it is.” Eames says quietly, reaching out to take the object.
“Aren’t you going to tell me anything first?”
“It’s not, strictly speaking, labyrinthal.”
“But if there’s no maze involved how will this help?”
“It’s not for the bull, Ariadne.”
The bull is big and dumb. It takes Eames about two minutes to wrestle it to the ground. He wonders if Arthur is even trying anymore.
***
Arthur is feigning disinterest again.
“I thought this would go very nicely with the lion skin for your suit.” Eames produces a large spool of golden thread.
Even Arthur can’t stop the smile that widens his eyes in surprise and appreciation.
Forgotten, the bull wanders off into another story.
Eighth Labor: The Mares of Diomedes
Horses again. Arthur is definitely off his game. Then Eames realizes that they are man-eating horses and he smiles.
***
“What does one do with man-eating horses exactly?”
“Nothing. I’ll probably let them go in a couple of days.”
“That seems unwise. Don’t you want to keep them?”
“It’s not really about them.”
Arthur isn’t looking at him, but Eames smiles broadly.
Ninth Labor: The Amazonian Belt
“Why does Arthur want you to get Robert Fischer’s belt?” Cobb asks.
“I think he’s under the impression that it will go nicely with his lion suit.” Eames replies.
“It must be a really nice belt.” Yusuf says.
“Custom made in Brazil. Worth more than $500 from what I hear.” Eames smiles.
“So what’s the plan?” Ariadne asks.
“We’re going to convince Fischer’s subconscious that the belt is hideously unflattering and that he should discard it immediately.”
“Are you crazy? His projections are militarized.”
“I’m fairly certain he could afford to send a real army to retrieve the belt if we steal it. Better an army of projections than a real army.”
Eames has a point.
***
“Eames, I am impressed.” Arthur says, running his fingers over the belt with something like lust.
“Your condescension, as always, is much appreciated Arthur.” Eames laughs.
Tenth Labor: The Cattle of Geryon
Stealing the cattle is relatively easy. Herding the cattle is another matter altogether. Every time he counts, there appear to be some missing and he has to track the wayward cows down. Eames finds one stray in the Fischer-Morrow herd and has to wrestle Peter Browning for it. The others all turn up in various villages and farms and most people hand the cows over without a fuss, but a journey of days becomes weeks.
He hates cows.
***
Arthur is wearing his lion suit when Eames finally gets the herd to him.
Eames is too tired to properly appreciate the way the golden thread glints in the sun or how incandescent the bronze suit makes Arthur’s skin appear. Or just how well Fischer’s belt completes the ensemble. He’s even too tired to make a crack about missing a feather hat.
But he can appreciate the warmth of Arthur’s skin as Arthur cradles him to his shoulder.
Eleventh Labor: The Apples of the Hesperides
Stealing from the gods once is inadvisable. Stealing from them twice…that’s suicide. Eames manages to convince Cobb to steal the apples in return for babysitting James and Philippa. Eames tells them stories about their mother (both from dreams and reality), makes every kind of sweet treat the kids can name, and teaches them the proper way to sneak into a room without being detected.
When Cobb returns, the kids are so rambunctious that he tries to back out of the house slowly, telling Eames that he’ll take the apples to Arthur instead. Eames distracts him with a spinning top and sprints off with the apples.
***
In the end, neither Arthur nor Eames even gets to taste the apples before Saito appears to reclaim them. They take it as a good sign that he doesn’t curse them to be pecked to death for eternity or turn them into cows.
“Especially cows.” Eames says with a shudder.
Twelfth Labor: The Hound of Hell
Rancid, viscous saliva drips from one of the mouths onto his shoulder. The low growl that rumbles in the colossal hell hound’s chest shakes the floor and Eames nearly topples over.
“Well, I did tell him to dream bigger.” Eames says aloud, his neck starting to ache from looking up.
He lunges at the beast with bare hands.
***
“Why a hell hound?”
Arthur looks almost surprised. “I have it on good authority that you love dogs.” He tosses a treat to Cerberus, who wags his serpent’s tail enthusiastically.
Eames does look surprised. “Well, yes. But a three-headed soul-devouring hell hound can hardly be described as a dog.”
Arthur laughs and places his hands on Eames’s cheeks, his fingers brushing gently against his ears.
Aeolus ceases the winds. Apollo lowers his flute. The Horae pause in their duties.
And Arthur kisses him.
~
the end
~