fic: Gonna steal your heart, gonna steal your heart away
Title: Gonna steal your heart, gonna steal your heart away
Pairing: Arthur/Eames, background Ariadne/Yusuf
Rating: PG-13? idek.
Word Count: approx. 2,100
Summary: Something like eight or nine years down the road from the Inception job, Arthur and Eames have settled down and adopted a son. Eight or nine years down the road, Arthur is beginning worry about getting old.
A/N: written for this prompt over at inception_kink . I actually went into this planning to write more Ariadne/Yusuf into it but then as my fics have a tendency to do, this took on a life of its own and, well, I actually have less control over what I write than you would think.
Title borrowed from Augustana.
“Eames, we’re going to be late,” Arthur says, poking his head into the bathroom, where Eames is giving their son, Alexander, a bubble bath.
They’d adopted Alexander about a year ago, when he’d been nothing but a cooing, six month old baby, when Arthur and Eames had finally settled enough to buy something of a permanent residence just outside of Los Angeles, a thirty minute drive from Dom’s so they can visit him if they feel like it and still be far enough away that they can avoid them if they don’t (and though they don’t tell Dom, most of the time they really don’t actually want to see him, so it works out nicely for everyone).
Eames looks over his shoulder at Arthur and laughs. “Arthur, it’s a housewarming party, not church,” he says. “There really is no need to be precisely on time. And besides, we have plenty of time, isn’t that right, Alex?”
Alexander giggles and splashes soapy water at Eames, getting bubbles caught in Eames’ hair, making Eames laugh and flick bubbles back at Alexander. Arthur can’t help smiling fondly at the two of them.
“We’ll be done soon,” Eames says gently to soothe Arthur’s frayed nerves, because he knows how Arthur can get under time pressure. “Just go get yourself all prettied up and pick out something for Alex to wear, would you?”
Arthur hums and, with one last glance over his shoulder, pads over to the closet to find something appropriate for him to wear to Ariadne and Yusuf’s housewarming party. Yusuf and Ariadne only just announced they’d be moving in together, though Arthur had privately thought it would have happened quite some time ago, and they’d bought a nice apartment not too far away. There was going to be a little party on the roof of their building tonight to celebrate the fact that all the boxes have been unpacked and no one has killed each other yet upon discovering some strange quirk or habit that otherwise would have gone unnoticed (this had been an issue when Arthur and Eames had first started living together. Arthur, contrary to popular belief, had been something of a slob and had left his clothing just lying around everywhere, and Eames had found it more than a little annoying. There had been some nights spent on the couch, awkward, tense silences, and a whole lot of shouting, but eventually, they both agreed to try harder to be more accommodating and the lives of the rest of their nice china dishes had been spared). Cobb has been invited too, as well as Saito, and James and Phillipa are sure to be there, so it’s bound to be a nice, cozy evening, given that no one gets terribly drunk, which, considering the company, is actually highly, highly unlikely.
After some deliberation, Arthur throws on a simple white collared shirt, a dove grey sweater that he knows Eames loves, and a pair of crisp, dark jeans. He remembers with amusement when he and Eames first started seeing each other, that first time Eames had seen Arthur off of work, out of those perfectly tailored suits he wore to maintain a professional edge, to ensure he’d be taken seriously. Arthur remembers how Eames had looked rather in shock, how he’d stared like he couldn’t believe it, made some comment about how he was sure Arthur had been kidnapped and they’d sent a doppelganger in his stead, and then proceeded to yank those jeans right off of Arthur’s slim legs and fucked him, right there in the foyer of Arthur’s apartment, pressed up against the wall, hot and needy and desperate.
Arthur’s picking out a shirt to go with the jeans he’s already picked out for Alexander when Eames comes up behind him, holding Alexander, who’s bundled up in a fluffy white towel. Eames presses a kiss to Arthur’s temple in greeting and Arthur smiles, a dimple pressing at his cheek.
“Get dressed,” Arthur says, taking Alexander from Eames. “We have to leave soon.”
Eames chuckles again but goes to pick out his own clothes easily enough. Arthur knows well enough that Eames will tease him about this later, when Arthur’s not so wound up about getting to Yusuf and Ariadne’s on time, when he’s warm and happy and loose from a little wine.
“What do you think of this, Alex?” Arthur says, holding up the pale peach colored shirt he’s picked out. “Do you like this?”
“Yeah,” Alexander cheers enthusiastically, little chubby hands reaching out to grasp at the soft material.
Arthur grins and eases Alexander’s arms through the sleeves before buttoning the shirt up. He’s pulling Alexander’s legs into the jeans he’s picked out when Eames comes over, dressed now not in the ratty sweatpants he usually lounges around their house in, but rather in dark pants and a black button up shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbow. It’s the sort of look that used to drive Arthur absolutely crazy (and it still does, sometimes, because Eames knows how to play his cards just right to get under Arthur’s skin), but it’s been years since Arthur has felt the need to tackle Eames and ravish him on the spot.
Arthur wonders if this means he’s getting old as he straightens out Alexander’s shirt. He’s well into his thirties now and he has a child and he’s married (not quite legally, of course, though papers will always say otherwise). He hasn’t felt that itching need to run off to the corners of the world to steal information he doesn’t care about for money he doesn’t even need any more of after the Inception job they pulled some eight or nine years ago. It’s still a little strange to Arthur sometimes, after conditioning himself to a life of crime, to lead such a domestic and quiet and utterly normal life, but really, he has no complaints. He’s happy and comfortable and it’s nice not having to check over his shoulder all the time, worried of gunfire or ambush or kidnap. It’s nice, in that quiet sort of way Arthur never thought he’d enjoy.
“This tie, too,” Eames says, holding out a cream colored tie checkered with black and red and blue squares for Alexander.
Arthur shoots Eames a look. “You can’t be serious,” he deadpans.
Eames just grins, none too bothered by Arthur’s clearly disapproving tone. He knows Arthur too well by now, knows him well enough to know where to push to get him to break.
“Oh, but Ari loves this one,” Eames says, looking at the tie fondly. “And Alex does too, don’t you, Alex? Do you like this tie?”
Alexander squeals and reaches out to grab the tie, giggling excitedly. Arthur sighs and reluctantly grabs the tie from Eames and knots it in place. Alexander claps his hands happily and Eames beams, and Arthur can’t help smiling a little either.
“Let’s get your hair done next,” Arthur says to Alexander. He helps Alexander down from where he’s been sitting on the bed and holds Alexander’s hand as they walk to the bathroom because Alexander’s just learned to walk about a month ago and walking is still new and exciting to him.
Arthur sits Alexander down on the bathroom counter and fusses about his hair with a dab of hair gel until he’s satisfied. Eames walks up behind Arthur and slides his arms around Arthur’s waist.
“Me next, me next,” Eames coos.
Arthur just laughs. He twists around in Eames’ arms so he can push Eames’ hair back, parting it down the side like Eames used to do when they were working fulltime. It makes Eames look sharp, Arthur thinks, and he’s actually rather missed that look since they formally retired from dream sharing, but he supposes it’s just as well, because he’s gotten lazy too. Tonight is the first time in more than a year he’s really even thinking about putting that much thought into his hair. Arthur sighs as he leans back to admire his work. He really is getting old.
“There,” Arthur says, waving his hands with a flourish. “All done.”
Eames takes a glance at his reflection in the mirror above the sink and then winks at Alexander. “We look good, don’t we?” he says.
Alexander giggles and holds his arms out for Eames. “Da!” he says, bouncing a little with impatience.
Eames chuckles and goes to scoop Alexander up in his arms. “Alright, alright, we’ll go put your shoes on now,” Eames says. “How does that sound?”
“Shoe!” Alexander agrees.
Eames grins and then shoots a wink at Arthur before heading out of the bathroom. And this is one of those moments Arthur could almost swear he’s dreaming, that he’s too many layers down and lost all concept of reality, because his life cannot be this wonderful. His life has never been wonderful; exciting, sure, but never once wonderful, not with being shipped off to military school because he’d let his grades slip and gotten in one too many fights at school, enlisting in the army only to break out two years later with nothing but a gun, a fake ID, and a brand new PASIV, and then running all over the world trying to escape the grasp of various governments and corporations and, that once, a terribly vengeful drug lord. His life has been one big adrenaline rush, and Arthur had really thought he’d been okay with that, never once envisioned settling down and trying to live like a normal person, but now that he has, well, he wonders why he took so long to give ordinary life a try. He’s still not good at it and sure, sometimes he gets antsy just staying in one place all the time, but it’s wonderful. It’s really, really wonderful.
“Arthur,” Eames calls from a couple rooms away. “Darling, you know I adore you, but if you don’t hurry up, we really will be late.”
Arthur blinks. “Coming,” he calls back. Arthur stares at his reflection, eyes catching on where smile lines are starting to wear into his skin, where thin, silvery hairs are growing more and more obvious with every passing year. He sighs.
“Arthur.”
Arthur quite nearly jumps in surprise, but catches himself just in time out of habit and doesn’t let it show. He looks at Eames’ reflection in the mirror, Eames who’s leaning against the doorframe and looking at him much too fondly. Eames pushes away from the door and walks over to Arthur, hands finding their comfortable position on Arthur’s hips. Eames rests his chin on Arthur’s shoulder.
“You really are quite lovely,” Eames murmurs.
The corner of Arthur’s mouth curves up, just a touch, and Arthur reaches for his hair gel. “I can’t believe I’m graying before you are,” he comments as he slicks his hair back.
Eames chuckles. “I told you working with Cobb would catch up with you someday,” he teases lightly, pressing a kiss to Arthur’s jaw. “The man causes more stress than he’s worth.”
Arthur laughs and turns to kiss Eames. “Be nice,” he warns. “Cobb is going to be there tonight.”
“Well he never has to know what I say about him, now does he?” Eames grins.
Arthur rolls his eyes and turns to wash the excess hair gel off his hands. “Cobb’s my friend,” Arthur insists.
“Of course he is,” Eames concedes and then makes as if to leave. “Now, c’mon, love; we really do have to get going.”
Arthur smirks at Eames’ back and grabs a coat on the way out. He slips on his shoes by the door and scoops up Alexander from where Eames had situated him, watching Dora the Explorer on TV. Eames grabs the bottle of champagne they’re bringing for Ariadne and Yusuf (Arthur had wanted to buy them wine, but Eames had insisted that champagne was more appropriate and, as it tends to happen most of the time, Arthur had found it hard to say no to Eames). Arthur buckles Alexander into his little car seat and Alexander babbles away happily and tries to grab Arthur’s nose. And of course, Eames has to drive, because while Arthur is a fantastic getaway driver, he really is a terrible civilian and gets the absolute worst road rage, and honestly, Arthur wouldn’t have it any other way.
END.
MORE A/N: LOOK AT THIS CHILD. LOOK AT HIM. how could you see this picture and not write kidfic? or maybe that's just me. idek. I JUST LOVE CHILDREN OKAY. *ahem* I mean. um. that's Arthur and Eames' child ok? ok.
feedback/concrit is always welcome and very much appreciated! (anon comments too!)
thanks for reading!
Pairing: Arthur/Eames, background Ariadne/Yusuf
Rating: PG-13? idek.
Word Count: approx. 2,100
Summary: Something like eight or nine years down the road from the Inception job, Arthur and Eames have settled down and adopted a son. Eight or nine years down the road, Arthur is beginning worry about getting old.
A/N: written for this prompt over at inception_kink . I actually went into this planning to write more Ariadne/Yusuf into it but then as my fics have a tendency to do, this took on a life of its own and, well, I actually have less control over what I write than you would think.
Title borrowed from Augustana.
“Eames, we’re going to be late,” Arthur says, poking his head into the bathroom, where Eames is giving their son, Alexander, a bubble bath.
They’d adopted Alexander about a year ago, when he’d been nothing but a cooing, six month old baby, when Arthur and Eames had finally settled enough to buy something of a permanent residence just outside of Los Angeles, a thirty minute drive from Dom’s so they can visit him if they feel like it and still be far enough away that they can avoid them if they don’t (and though they don’t tell Dom, most of the time they really don’t actually want to see him, so it works out nicely for everyone).
Eames looks over his shoulder at Arthur and laughs. “Arthur, it’s a housewarming party, not church,” he says. “There really is no need to be precisely on time. And besides, we have plenty of time, isn’t that right, Alex?”
Alexander giggles and splashes soapy water at Eames, getting bubbles caught in Eames’ hair, making Eames laugh and flick bubbles back at Alexander. Arthur can’t help smiling fondly at the two of them.
“We’ll be done soon,” Eames says gently to soothe Arthur’s frayed nerves, because he knows how Arthur can get under time pressure. “Just go get yourself all prettied up and pick out something for Alex to wear, would you?”
Arthur hums and, with one last glance over his shoulder, pads over to the closet to find something appropriate for him to wear to Ariadne and Yusuf’s housewarming party. Yusuf and Ariadne only just announced they’d be moving in together, though Arthur had privately thought it would have happened quite some time ago, and they’d bought a nice apartment not too far away. There was going to be a little party on the roof of their building tonight to celebrate the fact that all the boxes have been unpacked and no one has killed each other yet upon discovering some strange quirk or habit that otherwise would have gone unnoticed (this had been an issue when Arthur and Eames had first started living together. Arthur, contrary to popular belief, had been something of a slob and had left his clothing just lying around everywhere, and Eames had found it more than a little annoying. There had been some nights spent on the couch, awkward, tense silences, and a whole lot of shouting, but eventually, they both agreed to try harder to be more accommodating and the lives of the rest of their nice china dishes had been spared). Cobb has been invited too, as well as Saito, and James and Phillipa are sure to be there, so it’s bound to be a nice, cozy evening, given that no one gets terribly drunk, which, considering the company, is actually highly, highly unlikely.
After some deliberation, Arthur throws on a simple white collared shirt, a dove grey sweater that he knows Eames loves, and a pair of crisp, dark jeans. He remembers with amusement when he and Eames first started seeing each other, that first time Eames had seen Arthur off of work, out of those perfectly tailored suits he wore to maintain a professional edge, to ensure he’d be taken seriously. Arthur remembers how Eames had looked rather in shock, how he’d stared like he couldn’t believe it, made some comment about how he was sure Arthur had been kidnapped and they’d sent a doppelganger in his stead, and then proceeded to yank those jeans right off of Arthur’s slim legs and fucked him, right there in the foyer of Arthur’s apartment, pressed up against the wall, hot and needy and desperate.
Arthur’s picking out a shirt to go with the jeans he’s already picked out for Alexander when Eames comes up behind him, holding Alexander, who’s bundled up in a fluffy white towel. Eames presses a kiss to Arthur’s temple in greeting and Arthur smiles, a dimple pressing at his cheek.
“Get dressed,” Arthur says, taking Alexander from Eames. “We have to leave soon.”
Eames chuckles again but goes to pick out his own clothes easily enough. Arthur knows well enough that Eames will tease him about this later, when Arthur’s not so wound up about getting to Yusuf and Ariadne’s on time, when he’s warm and happy and loose from a little wine.
“What do you think of this, Alex?” Arthur says, holding up the pale peach colored shirt he’s picked out. “Do you like this?”
“Yeah,” Alexander cheers enthusiastically, little chubby hands reaching out to grasp at the soft material.
Arthur grins and eases Alexander’s arms through the sleeves before buttoning the shirt up. He’s pulling Alexander’s legs into the jeans he’s picked out when Eames comes over, dressed now not in the ratty sweatpants he usually lounges around their house in, but rather in dark pants and a black button up shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbow. It’s the sort of look that used to drive Arthur absolutely crazy (and it still does, sometimes, because Eames knows how to play his cards just right to get under Arthur’s skin), but it’s been years since Arthur has felt the need to tackle Eames and ravish him on the spot.
Arthur wonders if this means he’s getting old as he straightens out Alexander’s shirt. He’s well into his thirties now and he has a child and he’s married (not quite legally, of course, though papers will always say otherwise). He hasn’t felt that itching need to run off to the corners of the world to steal information he doesn’t care about for money he doesn’t even need any more of after the Inception job they pulled some eight or nine years ago. It’s still a little strange to Arthur sometimes, after conditioning himself to a life of crime, to lead such a domestic and quiet and utterly normal life, but really, he has no complaints. He’s happy and comfortable and it’s nice not having to check over his shoulder all the time, worried of gunfire or ambush or kidnap. It’s nice, in that quiet sort of way Arthur never thought he’d enjoy.
“This tie, too,” Eames says, holding out a cream colored tie checkered with black and red and blue squares for Alexander.
Arthur shoots Eames a look. “You can’t be serious,” he deadpans.
Eames just grins, none too bothered by Arthur’s clearly disapproving tone. He knows Arthur too well by now, knows him well enough to know where to push to get him to break.
“Oh, but Ari loves this one,” Eames says, looking at the tie fondly. “And Alex does too, don’t you, Alex? Do you like this tie?”
Alexander squeals and reaches out to grab the tie, giggling excitedly. Arthur sighs and reluctantly grabs the tie from Eames and knots it in place. Alexander claps his hands happily and Eames beams, and Arthur can’t help smiling a little either.
“Let’s get your hair done next,” Arthur says to Alexander. He helps Alexander down from where he’s been sitting on the bed and holds Alexander’s hand as they walk to the bathroom because Alexander’s just learned to walk about a month ago and walking is still new and exciting to him.
Arthur sits Alexander down on the bathroom counter and fusses about his hair with a dab of hair gel until he’s satisfied. Eames walks up behind Arthur and slides his arms around Arthur’s waist.
“Me next, me next,” Eames coos.
Arthur just laughs. He twists around in Eames’ arms so he can push Eames’ hair back, parting it down the side like Eames used to do when they were working fulltime. It makes Eames look sharp, Arthur thinks, and he’s actually rather missed that look since they formally retired from dream sharing, but he supposes it’s just as well, because he’s gotten lazy too. Tonight is the first time in more than a year he’s really even thinking about putting that much thought into his hair. Arthur sighs as he leans back to admire his work. He really is getting old.
“There,” Arthur says, waving his hands with a flourish. “All done.”
Eames takes a glance at his reflection in the mirror above the sink and then winks at Alexander. “We look good, don’t we?” he says.
Alexander giggles and holds his arms out for Eames. “Da!” he says, bouncing a little with impatience.
Eames chuckles and goes to scoop Alexander up in his arms. “Alright, alright, we’ll go put your shoes on now,” Eames says. “How does that sound?”
“Shoe!” Alexander agrees.
Eames grins and then shoots a wink at Arthur before heading out of the bathroom. And this is one of those moments Arthur could almost swear he’s dreaming, that he’s too many layers down and lost all concept of reality, because his life cannot be this wonderful. His life has never been wonderful; exciting, sure, but never once wonderful, not with being shipped off to military school because he’d let his grades slip and gotten in one too many fights at school, enlisting in the army only to break out two years later with nothing but a gun, a fake ID, and a brand new PASIV, and then running all over the world trying to escape the grasp of various governments and corporations and, that once, a terribly vengeful drug lord. His life has been one big adrenaline rush, and Arthur had really thought he’d been okay with that, never once envisioned settling down and trying to live like a normal person, but now that he has, well, he wonders why he took so long to give ordinary life a try. He’s still not good at it and sure, sometimes he gets antsy just staying in one place all the time, but it’s wonderful. It’s really, really wonderful.
“Arthur,” Eames calls from a couple rooms away. “Darling, you know I adore you, but if you don’t hurry up, we really will be late.”
Arthur blinks. “Coming,” he calls back. Arthur stares at his reflection, eyes catching on where smile lines are starting to wear into his skin, where thin, silvery hairs are growing more and more obvious with every passing year. He sighs.
“Arthur.”
Arthur quite nearly jumps in surprise, but catches himself just in time out of habit and doesn’t let it show. He looks at Eames’ reflection in the mirror, Eames who’s leaning against the doorframe and looking at him much too fondly. Eames pushes away from the door and walks over to Arthur, hands finding their comfortable position on Arthur’s hips. Eames rests his chin on Arthur’s shoulder.
“You really are quite lovely,” Eames murmurs.
The corner of Arthur’s mouth curves up, just a touch, and Arthur reaches for his hair gel. “I can’t believe I’m graying before you are,” he comments as he slicks his hair back.
Eames chuckles. “I told you working with Cobb would catch up with you someday,” he teases lightly, pressing a kiss to Arthur’s jaw. “The man causes more stress than he’s worth.”
Arthur laughs and turns to kiss Eames. “Be nice,” he warns. “Cobb is going to be there tonight.”
“Well he never has to know what I say about him, now does he?” Eames grins.
Arthur rolls his eyes and turns to wash the excess hair gel off his hands. “Cobb’s my friend,” Arthur insists.
“Of course he is,” Eames concedes and then makes as if to leave. “Now, c’mon, love; we really do have to get going.”
Arthur smirks at Eames’ back and grabs a coat on the way out. He slips on his shoes by the door and scoops up Alexander from where Eames had situated him, watching Dora the Explorer on TV. Eames grabs the bottle of champagne they’re bringing for Ariadne and Yusuf (Arthur had wanted to buy them wine, but Eames had insisted that champagne was more appropriate and, as it tends to happen most of the time, Arthur had found it hard to say no to Eames). Arthur buckles Alexander into his little car seat and Alexander babbles away happily and tries to grab Arthur’s nose. And of course, Eames has to drive, because while Arthur is a fantastic getaway driver, he really is a terrible civilian and gets the absolute worst road rage, and honestly, Arthur wouldn’t have it any other way.
END.
MORE A/N: LOOK AT THIS CHILD. LOOK AT HIM. how could you see this picture and not write kidfic? or maybe that's just me. idek. I JUST LOVE CHILDREN OKAY. *ahem* I mean. um. that's Arthur and Eames' child ok? ok.
feedback/concrit is always welcome and very much appreciated! (anon comments too!)
thanks for reading!