Inception/Mysterious Skin - Every me and Every You (5/30)
Title: Every Me and Every You (5/30)
Author: osaki_nana_707
Fandom: Inception/Mysterious Skin fusion
Word count: 3,044
Pairing: Neil/Eames
Rating: R
Warnings: language, allusions to rape,child molestation, and prostitution
Summary: Neil McCormick is fraying at the seams. Then he meets Eames, professional dreamer.
Figuring out the location of the Winchester office was harder than Neil expected. Unlike a lot of companies, the Winchester family didn't seem to feel the need to plaster their name across their building in big gold letters, so he ended up spending a lot of that afternoon wandering around until he found a phone booth. He found the address in a phone book and ripped out the page, cramming it into the pocket of his jacket.
Just glancing through the windows of the place, Neil knew there would be no way he'd get inside. Everyone was dressed in suits and no matter how handsome Neil might have been, he knew he couldn't convince them he belonged there in his t-shirt, jeans, and five dollar haircut.
He had two days to come up with something and get the information, so he went home. Wendy would be back soon, and if he was gone when she returned, she'd be suspicious.
…of course, it turned out that she was suspicious anyway because when she came in she pulled a face and said, "What happened to you?"
Neil dug a piece of bologna out of the fridge and shoved it into his mouth, kicking the door shut behind him. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Wendy rolled her eyes and set her purse down on the table. "First of all, don't just eat bologna. Christ, Neil, I'll make something to eat if you're hungry. Second of all, you're lit up like a fucking star. Did you get some good weed or something?"
"No," Neil said, flopping down onto the couch. He found himself grinning though, even as he said it.
"You fucking liar," Wendy said, climbing on top of him and sitting on his stomach. She whapped him with a throw pillow. "Tell me!"
"Nothing. Nothing's happened to me, I swear," he said.
"Then why are you smiling like that? I've never seen you smile like that before."
"This is just my face, Wendy. Nothing's going on." He did his best to turn his expression to a sober one. He was pretty sure he only halfway succeeded.
"Neil McCormick, if you don't tell me the truth right now I'll never get off of you."
Neil shrugged. "Even if I wanted to tell you, I can't because it's top secret."
Wendy's eyes momentarily bugged out, but then she was rolling them again. "Oh, what-ever, Neil. You expect me to believe you're involved in some big secret thing like that?"
Of course, Neil never hid anything from Wendy (except for that night in Brighton Beach and the meeting with Brian afterwards), so he laughed when she smacked him with the pillow again and said, "I'm serious! Okay, I'll tell you, but you can't tell anyone else, understand?"
She tossed the pillow to the floor and crossed her arms. "Okay then. Spill."
He sighed, trying to think of how to properly word just what had taken place, what parts to include and which ones to leave out. "You remember when we were little, and we dreamed of being crazy famous criminals like Bonnie and Clyde and shit like that?"
"Yeah, of course I do. Don't tell me you've murdered someone and want me to go on the run with you."
"No way," Neil said, "this is way better than that."
"So what is it?"
He sat up on his elbows, motioning at her to climb off of him, so she did. He adjusted himself so he was sitting next to her and said, "I met this guy, right? And he has this crazy machine that he uses to steal things with. Guess what he steals. Seriously, guess."
"I don't know… diamonds?" she asked, though from the look on her face she was obviously only humoring him.
"Bigger."
"Royal jewels?"
"Nope."
"Well, fuck, Neil, I don't know."
Neil lifted his hand and poked her in the forehead. "He steals people's ideas. Their thoughts."
She rolled her eyes again. "Well, fuck, Neil, anyone can do that. That's why there's laws against plagiarism and shit."
He shook his head. "Not like that. Listen," he said. He took her hand and pressed her thumb over the tiny mark where the needle had been. "You put a needle in your arm that's connected to the machine, and then you connect another person to it too, or even more people if you want, and then you hit a button on it and it sends you to sleep. When you're asleep, you can walk around in other people's dreams and steal their thoughts and secrets."
She stared down at where her thumb was pressed against his pale flesh, mouth slightly parted, and then she turned her eyes back on him and said, "You expect me to believe that?"
"Haven't you heard crazier things? Why would I make this up?"
He knew if it had been anyone else, his words would have been dismissed immediately. It was Wendy though, and Wendy could usually tell when he was lying about something, especially when the lie was as ludicrous as this idea was. At this moment, his gaze did not falter, and she knew that one of two things had happened: A) Neil McCormick was telling the truth about a dream machine and stealing ideas, or B) Neil McCormick had finally gone completely insane.
…and well, he was pretty sure he looked sane enough.
"Oh my God," Wendy said softly. "That's incredible… Jesus Christ, Neil, how did you find this guy?"
Neil shrugged his shoulders again. "It was just chance, I guess. He was looking for the subway. He says I have a real knack for it, and if I can prove to him that I can do the work, then he'll help me get into the business… and Wendy, these fucking jobs pay a lot. I'm talking like… vacation houses in Maui and Aspen and shit, plane rides all over the world and fancy restaurants."
Wendy's eyes lit up like Christmas. "What do you need to do?"
He smirked. "Don't worry. I've got this… and once I get my money, I'm gonna buy you a big fancy ass place in Paris or something. One for you and one for my mom… Hell, I'll even get a place for Eric, and that way I'll never have to go back to fucking Hutchinson ever again."
He paused, pursing his lips, and turned to Wendy. "I do need something though. I need a suit."
Wendy had a friend at work that was about Neil's size, and Neil was thankful that the guy did happen to own a suit, even if he hadn't worn it since high school. Neil had never really been the dressing up type, so it felt bizarre to slide into the outfit in the bathroom of his and Wendy's apartment. At the moment he didn't much care for it, but he most definitely wasn't going to give up on this challenge just because he didn't like the clothes.
Neil took care to remove the hoop from his ear and set it on the corner of the sink, and then he pulled out the tube of Wendy's hair gel. He needed to at least look a little less like a twink, so he slicked back his hair and then wiped his hands on his t-shirt before throwing it back into the hamper.
When he looked up at his reflection, he nearly jolted back in shock.
It was a little amazing how different he looked. "Aw, fuck, Wendy, I look like such a jackass!" he complained as he stepped out of the bathroom. The hard, hollow thump of his oxford shoes was unfamiliar.
Wendy was just lighting up a cigarette when he came out and she snorted. "Oh, my God, you do," she said. "Jesus, Neil, you're dressed like my dad."
Neil chuckled, buttoning his jacket. "I'm convincing though, right?"
She looked like she was about to burst out laughing at the sight of him, but she said, "Yeah, I'd say you look convincing. You'd best be careful, Neil, because dressed like that you'll attract a lot of girls."
Neil nabbed her cigarette before she could take a real drag off of it and took one for himself. "I think you underestimate me."
"You're not going out there to sell your body, Neil."
Neil blew out smoke, returned her cigarette. "I'll be back later."
She caught him on the stairway outside the door and called after him, "Try not to talk like a yokel if you wanna convince them you're legit! Annunciate!"
Neil rolled his eyes and offered her his middle finger on the way down the steps.
The Winchester building looked the same as the last time he saw it, but when he walked in no one bothered to even look up. He knew Wendy had been teasing him about the way he talked, but he still focused very hard to round out his vowels when he approached the front desk.
"Hi, I'm here for an appointment with a George Winchester?" he offered, his words tasting odd in his mouth.
The secretary looked up from the book she was reading and her bored expression turned to a surprised one. Maybe she hadn't expected the owner of the voice to look like Neil… for a moment he worried that she saw right through his disguise. The suit wasn't even an expensive one, and guys probably smoothed their hair back with something other than ladies' hair gel.
"Oh, um," the secretary said uncomfortably. "Can I get your name?"
"Uhh," Neil said, faltering momentarily before recovering, "my name isn't exactly on the record… this is more of a… last minute thing."
Of the lies Neil had told, that certainly wasn't the best one, but oddly enough the woman seemed convinced. She darted her eyes away, back to the dirty novel she was reading, and mumbled, "Um, well, you should know the way then… Top floor, third office."
Neil left her there without saying another word, sauntering into the elevator and hitting the highest button. The elevator was empty save for himself, so it was quiet. He stared at the reflections in the walls, stared at the disguise of himself. This was never what he imagined he'd be doing, never how he expected to dress for any reason. He and Wendy had always talked shit about the men in their business suits, going to their cubicles to push pencils around. They knew they'd never want to live that way… It was too boring, too constricting…
…but this dreaming thing… well, it had more benefits than the teachers first made him believe. Of course, he was pretty sure when they told the students to reach for the stars and never stop dreaming, they didn't exactly have the 'steal their thoughts' thing in mind, but it did feel like the one actually marginally useful lesson he'd obtained from the twelve years of bullshit. He'd never really thought he'd be able to get a job that paid better than what he got selling himself, and if he didn't show Eames what he was made of then he doubted there would be a chance of finding another job in the future.
He breathed in and out and tried not to look at himself. He looked so much more grown up like this, and he doubted Coach would have approved.
…Coach's approval didn't matter anymore though… and yet he still tried, just in case, and he wasn't sure why he did it, and he wasn't sure why he wanted to.
In fact… he really wasn't sure he wanted to now… at this point, it was just something that he did.
He jumped when the doors slid open and stepped into a plush carpeted hall. It was so silent and still that for a split second he forgot where he was going. It seemed like the calm just before a storm… and that made him think of the one from the dream, the dream Eames had witnessed…
Neil suddenly thought of the clues he'd given off in his subconscious, and how even though Eames had made the wrong connection, he had made one. Would he be able to figure it out? What would Neil do if that was the case?
He shook himself out of it, figuring those thoughts were best saved for later, and sought out George Winchester, Jr.'s office.
George was a younger guy, though not as young as Neil, probably in his late twenties. He wasn't particularly good looking or ugly so much as unbelievably average. The expensive suit and modern, decorative office did nothing to change his average-ness, which Neil was sure it was supposed to. He hardly looked like a threat by any means, but Neil supposed looks could be deceiving.
George looked at Neil with surprise when he noticed him standing there. His mouth fell open a little, but then he recovered. "Can I help you?" he asked, and Neil wanted to burst out laughing. This guy was working for the company and seemed more out of place than Neil did.
He didn't laugh though, instead coming inside and closing the door, discreetly scanning the room for any info on the man he could take back to Eames. "I'm here for an appointment," he said, rounding out his vowels again.
The man's eyes widened a little. "I didn't call you."
"I was sent over," Neil replied. "Special."
"Oh. Well."
It took a couple of seconds, but Neil quickly noticed that the air in the room had shifted to a feeling he was more familiar with. He suddenly realized that perhaps he hadn't quite pulled off the role as 'businessman' but his other skill seemed to be coming in handy.
…and he definitely had something to take back to Eames (and he hadn't even started yet).
The man approached Neil slowly, looking a little nervous. "My fiancée will be here in an hour… so we don't have much time. Cameron sent you?"
Neil didn't know who Cameron was, but he still said yes.
"I've already been paid too," Neil added. "Where do you want me?"
A niggling panic settled in the bottom of his gut, but he did what he could to ignore it. This guy wasn't threatening enough to deserve it. The man smoothed a hand down the lapel of Neil's jacket, and Neil wanted to close his eyes and pretend he was somewhere else.
"Can you just uh…" George said softly. "Get under the desk and…"
Neil wasn't stupid. He knew what that meant, and even though it made him want to throw up, he did it. It didn't used to bother him like this… but again, it was a thought best saved for later, so he watched the man sit down and unzip, pulling out his cock and leaving it presented to him.
Neil closed his eyes and took the man's cock into his mouth and tried to think of something else. He ended up settling his thoughts on Eames, remembering how he'd expected the man to attack him the night they met, the way he still didn't attack him even after he broke into his hotel room and rooted around in his head. He thought of that one kiss they'd shared, having half-forgotten it in all the excitement.
He wondered what Eames would think if he walked into the office at that moment and found Neil dressed to the nines, still sucking this man off like the dirty whore that he was. He wondered if Eames would be surprised.
George whimpered above him, so Neil started working in some of his best techniques to get this over with as quick as possible, and he tried to pretend that it was Eames he was blowing, just because he wondered how it would feel.
He'd never really pictured himself with anyone, and it wasn't like he was doing it now, but it was still odd to think about sucking Eames when Eames was around his own age. Wendy would probably consider it an improvement in choice, and he knew Eric would probably raise his hands to the heavens and shout hallelujah… but Neil honestly wasn't sure what this whole thing with Eames was.
Eames had spotted his vulnerable areas and was attempting to break through the walls Neil had built to protect himself. Honestly, Neil thought he should be running as far and as fast as he could from Eames, and yet he was rushing closer and closer to him, seeking out his approval.
Perhaps, Neil thought, Brian with his nosebleeds and fainting spells and sad, sad eyes had tainted the image of Coach somehow, leaving Neil stranded in the present with a tattered past hanging over him, no longer sure just what to believe. Perhaps he was replacing Coach's memory with another, with Eames, because Eames was there, and Eames was the closest thing he'd come to hustling since Brighton Beach.
No, he wouldn't allow himself to think about that. He thought about it enough as it was.
He just conceded to the fact that he had some things he needed to sort out… and some extra walls to build up and reinforce.
The man came with a rather unappealing grunt, and Neil did his best not to grimace as it filled his mouth. He pulled off and spit into the trash can and made sure not to shudder in the man's presence.
George got up and hurried into the connected bathroom to pull himself together, so Neil opened up his desk and dug out his little black book, then went through the man's jacket pockets until he found his wallet. He nabbed both of them, hiding them away in his own jacket, and then started looking through the files on his desk.
The man had a picture of him and his father there, next to a picture that had been turned down out of guilt. The picture was of his fiancée.
Neil knew then that someone had poisoned George's father. It just wasn't George.
He had a feeling George knew who it was though, and if his actual little secret had gotten out to anyone, Neil would bet it was them. Maybe this Cameron person.
This pointman stuff wasn't so hard.
Author: osaki_nana_707
Fandom: Inception/Mysterious Skin fusion
Word count: 3,044
Pairing: Neil/Eames
Rating: R
Warnings: language, allusions to rape,child molestation, and prostitution
Summary: Neil McCormick is fraying at the seams. Then he meets Eames, professional dreamer.
Figuring out the location of the Winchester office was harder than Neil expected. Unlike a lot of companies, the Winchester family didn't seem to feel the need to plaster their name across their building in big gold letters, so he ended up spending a lot of that afternoon wandering around until he found a phone booth. He found the address in a phone book and ripped out the page, cramming it into the pocket of his jacket.
Just glancing through the windows of the place, Neil knew there would be no way he'd get inside. Everyone was dressed in suits and no matter how handsome Neil might have been, he knew he couldn't convince them he belonged there in his t-shirt, jeans, and five dollar haircut.
He had two days to come up with something and get the information, so he went home. Wendy would be back soon, and if he was gone when she returned, she'd be suspicious.
…of course, it turned out that she was suspicious anyway because when she came in she pulled a face and said, "What happened to you?"
Neil dug a piece of bologna out of the fridge and shoved it into his mouth, kicking the door shut behind him. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Wendy rolled her eyes and set her purse down on the table. "First of all, don't just eat bologna. Christ, Neil, I'll make something to eat if you're hungry. Second of all, you're lit up like a fucking star. Did you get some good weed or something?"
"No," Neil said, flopping down onto the couch. He found himself grinning though, even as he said it.
"You fucking liar," Wendy said, climbing on top of him and sitting on his stomach. She whapped him with a throw pillow. "Tell me!"
"Nothing. Nothing's happened to me, I swear," he said.
"Then why are you smiling like that? I've never seen you smile like that before."
"This is just my face, Wendy. Nothing's going on." He did his best to turn his expression to a sober one. He was pretty sure he only halfway succeeded.
"Neil McCormick, if you don't tell me the truth right now I'll never get off of you."
Neil shrugged. "Even if I wanted to tell you, I can't because it's top secret."
Wendy's eyes momentarily bugged out, but then she was rolling them again. "Oh, what-ever, Neil. You expect me to believe you're involved in some big secret thing like that?"
Of course, Neil never hid anything from Wendy (except for that night in Brighton Beach and the meeting with Brian afterwards), so he laughed when she smacked him with the pillow again and said, "I'm serious! Okay, I'll tell you, but you can't tell anyone else, understand?"
She tossed the pillow to the floor and crossed her arms. "Okay then. Spill."
He sighed, trying to think of how to properly word just what had taken place, what parts to include and which ones to leave out. "You remember when we were little, and we dreamed of being crazy famous criminals like Bonnie and Clyde and shit like that?"
"Yeah, of course I do. Don't tell me you've murdered someone and want me to go on the run with you."
"No way," Neil said, "this is way better than that."
"So what is it?"
He sat up on his elbows, motioning at her to climb off of him, so she did. He adjusted himself so he was sitting next to her and said, "I met this guy, right? And he has this crazy machine that he uses to steal things with. Guess what he steals. Seriously, guess."
"I don't know… diamonds?" she asked, though from the look on her face she was obviously only humoring him.
"Bigger."
"Royal jewels?"
"Nope."
"Well, fuck, Neil, I don't know."
Neil lifted his hand and poked her in the forehead. "He steals people's ideas. Their thoughts."
She rolled her eyes again. "Well, fuck, Neil, anyone can do that. That's why there's laws against plagiarism and shit."
He shook his head. "Not like that. Listen," he said. He took her hand and pressed her thumb over the tiny mark where the needle had been. "You put a needle in your arm that's connected to the machine, and then you connect another person to it too, or even more people if you want, and then you hit a button on it and it sends you to sleep. When you're asleep, you can walk around in other people's dreams and steal their thoughts and secrets."
She stared down at where her thumb was pressed against his pale flesh, mouth slightly parted, and then she turned her eyes back on him and said, "You expect me to believe that?"
"Haven't you heard crazier things? Why would I make this up?"
He knew if it had been anyone else, his words would have been dismissed immediately. It was Wendy though, and Wendy could usually tell when he was lying about something, especially when the lie was as ludicrous as this idea was. At this moment, his gaze did not falter, and she knew that one of two things had happened: A) Neil McCormick was telling the truth about a dream machine and stealing ideas, or B) Neil McCormick had finally gone completely insane.
…and well, he was pretty sure he looked sane enough.
"Oh my God," Wendy said softly. "That's incredible… Jesus Christ, Neil, how did you find this guy?"
Neil shrugged his shoulders again. "It was just chance, I guess. He was looking for the subway. He says I have a real knack for it, and if I can prove to him that I can do the work, then he'll help me get into the business… and Wendy, these fucking jobs pay a lot. I'm talking like… vacation houses in Maui and Aspen and shit, plane rides all over the world and fancy restaurants."
Wendy's eyes lit up like Christmas. "What do you need to do?"
He smirked. "Don't worry. I've got this… and once I get my money, I'm gonna buy you a big fancy ass place in Paris or something. One for you and one for my mom… Hell, I'll even get a place for Eric, and that way I'll never have to go back to fucking Hutchinson ever again."
He paused, pursing his lips, and turned to Wendy. "I do need something though. I need a suit."
Wendy had a friend at work that was about Neil's size, and Neil was thankful that the guy did happen to own a suit, even if he hadn't worn it since high school. Neil had never really been the dressing up type, so it felt bizarre to slide into the outfit in the bathroom of his and Wendy's apartment. At the moment he didn't much care for it, but he most definitely wasn't going to give up on this challenge just because he didn't like the clothes.
Neil took care to remove the hoop from his ear and set it on the corner of the sink, and then he pulled out the tube of Wendy's hair gel. He needed to at least look a little less like a twink, so he slicked back his hair and then wiped his hands on his t-shirt before throwing it back into the hamper.
When he looked up at his reflection, he nearly jolted back in shock.
It was a little amazing how different he looked. "Aw, fuck, Wendy, I look like such a jackass!" he complained as he stepped out of the bathroom. The hard, hollow thump of his oxford shoes was unfamiliar.
Wendy was just lighting up a cigarette when he came out and she snorted. "Oh, my God, you do," she said. "Jesus, Neil, you're dressed like my dad."
Neil chuckled, buttoning his jacket. "I'm convincing though, right?"
She looked like she was about to burst out laughing at the sight of him, but she said, "Yeah, I'd say you look convincing. You'd best be careful, Neil, because dressed like that you'll attract a lot of girls."
Neil nabbed her cigarette before she could take a real drag off of it and took one for himself. "I think you underestimate me."
"You're not going out there to sell your body, Neil."
Neil blew out smoke, returned her cigarette. "I'll be back later."
She caught him on the stairway outside the door and called after him, "Try not to talk like a yokel if you wanna convince them you're legit! Annunciate!"
Neil rolled his eyes and offered her his middle finger on the way down the steps.
The Winchester building looked the same as the last time he saw it, but when he walked in no one bothered to even look up. He knew Wendy had been teasing him about the way he talked, but he still focused very hard to round out his vowels when he approached the front desk.
"Hi, I'm here for an appointment with a George Winchester?" he offered, his words tasting odd in his mouth.
The secretary looked up from the book she was reading and her bored expression turned to a surprised one. Maybe she hadn't expected the owner of the voice to look like Neil… for a moment he worried that she saw right through his disguise. The suit wasn't even an expensive one, and guys probably smoothed their hair back with something other than ladies' hair gel.
"Oh, um," the secretary said uncomfortably. "Can I get your name?"
"Uhh," Neil said, faltering momentarily before recovering, "my name isn't exactly on the record… this is more of a… last minute thing."
Of the lies Neil had told, that certainly wasn't the best one, but oddly enough the woman seemed convinced. She darted her eyes away, back to the dirty novel she was reading, and mumbled, "Um, well, you should know the way then… Top floor, third office."
Neil left her there without saying another word, sauntering into the elevator and hitting the highest button. The elevator was empty save for himself, so it was quiet. He stared at the reflections in the walls, stared at the disguise of himself. This was never what he imagined he'd be doing, never how he expected to dress for any reason. He and Wendy had always talked shit about the men in their business suits, going to their cubicles to push pencils around. They knew they'd never want to live that way… It was too boring, too constricting…
…but this dreaming thing… well, it had more benefits than the teachers first made him believe. Of course, he was pretty sure when they told the students to reach for the stars and never stop dreaming, they didn't exactly have the 'steal their thoughts' thing in mind, but it did feel like the one actually marginally useful lesson he'd obtained from the twelve years of bullshit. He'd never really thought he'd be able to get a job that paid better than what he got selling himself, and if he didn't show Eames what he was made of then he doubted there would be a chance of finding another job in the future.
He breathed in and out and tried not to look at himself. He looked so much more grown up like this, and he doubted Coach would have approved.
…Coach's approval didn't matter anymore though… and yet he still tried, just in case, and he wasn't sure why he did it, and he wasn't sure why he wanted to.
In fact… he really wasn't sure he wanted to now… at this point, it was just something that he did.
He jumped when the doors slid open and stepped into a plush carpeted hall. It was so silent and still that for a split second he forgot where he was going. It seemed like the calm just before a storm… and that made him think of the one from the dream, the dream Eames had witnessed…
Neil suddenly thought of the clues he'd given off in his subconscious, and how even though Eames had made the wrong connection, he had made one. Would he be able to figure it out? What would Neil do if that was the case?
He shook himself out of it, figuring those thoughts were best saved for later, and sought out George Winchester, Jr.'s office.
George was a younger guy, though not as young as Neil, probably in his late twenties. He wasn't particularly good looking or ugly so much as unbelievably average. The expensive suit and modern, decorative office did nothing to change his average-ness, which Neil was sure it was supposed to. He hardly looked like a threat by any means, but Neil supposed looks could be deceiving.
George looked at Neil with surprise when he noticed him standing there. His mouth fell open a little, but then he recovered. "Can I help you?" he asked, and Neil wanted to burst out laughing. This guy was working for the company and seemed more out of place than Neil did.
He didn't laugh though, instead coming inside and closing the door, discreetly scanning the room for any info on the man he could take back to Eames. "I'm here for an appointment," he said, rounding out his vowels again.
The man's eyes widened a little. "I didn't call you."
"I was sent over," Neil replied. "Special."
"Oh. Well."
It took a couple of seconds, but Neil quickly noticed that the air in the room had shifted to a feeling he was more familiar with. He suddenly realized that perhaps he hadn't quite pulled off the role as 'businessman' but his other skill seemed to be coming in handy.
…and he definitely had something to take back to Eames (and he hadn't even started yet).
The man approached Neil slowly, looking a little nervous. "My fiancée will be here in an hour… so we don't have much time. Cameron sent you?"
Neil didn't know who Cameron was, but he still said yes.
"I've already been paid too," Neil added. "Where do you want me?"
A niggling panic settled in the bottom of his gut, but he did what he could to ignore it. This guy wasn't threatening enough to deserve it. The man smoothed a hand down the lapel of Neil's jacket, and Neil wanted to close his eyes and pretend he was somewhere else.
"Can you just uh…" George said softly. "Get under the desk and…"
Neil wasn't stupid. He knew what that meant, and even though it made him want to throw up, he did it. It didn't used to bother him like this… but again, it was a thought best saved for later, so he watched the man sit down and unzip, pulling out his cock and leaving it presented to him.
Neil closed his eyes and took the man's cock into his mouth and tried to think of something else. He ended up settling his thoughts on Eames, remembering how he'd expected the man to attack him the night they met, the way he still didn't attack him even after he broke into his hotel room and rooted around in his head. He thought of that one kiss they'd shared, having half-forgotten it in all the excitement.
He wondered what Eames would think if he walked into the office at that moment and found Neil dressed to the nines, still sucking this man off like the dirty whore that he was. He wondered if Eames would be surprised.
George whimpered above him, so Neil started working in some of his best techniques to get this over with as quick as possible, and he tried to pretend that it was Eames he was blowing, just because he wondered how it would feel.
He'd never really pictured himself with anyone, and it wasn't like he was doing it now, but it was still odd to think about sucking Eames when Eames was around his own age. Wendy would probably consider it an improvement in choice, and he knew Eric would probably raise his hands to the heavens and shout hallelujah… but Neil honestly wasn't sure what this whole thing with Eames was.
Eames had spotted his vulnerable areas and was attempting to break through the walls Neil had built to protect himself. Honestly, Neil thought he should be running as far and as fast as he could from Eames, and yet he was rushing closer and closer to him, seeking out his approval.
Perhaps, Neil thought, Brian with his nosebleeds and fainting spells and sad, sad eyes had tainted the image of Coach somehow, leaving Neil stranded in the present with a tattered past hanging over him, no longer sure just what to believe. Perhaps he was replacing Coach's memory with another, with Eames, because Eames was there, and Eames was the closest thing he'd come to hustling since Brighton Beach.
No, he wouldn't allow himself to think about that. He thought about it enough as it was.
He just conceded to the fact that he had some things he needed to sort out… and some extra walls to build up and reinforce.
The man came with a rather unappealing grunt, and Neil did his best not to grimace as it filled his mouth. He pulled off and spit into the trash can and made sure not to shudder in the man's presence.
George got up and hurried into the connected bathroom to pull himself together, so Neil opened up his desk and dug out his little black book, then went through the man's jacket pockets until he found his wallet. He nabbed both of them, hiding them away in his own jacket, and then started looking through the files on his desk.
The man had a picture of him and his father there, next to a picture that had been turned down out of guilt. The picture was of his fiancée.
Neil knew then that someone had poisoned George's father. It just wasn't George.
He had a feeling George knew who it was though, and if his actual little secret had gotten out to anyone, Neil would bet it was them. Maybe this Cameron person.
This pointman stuff wasn't so hard.