Inception/Mysterious Skin - Every Me and Every You (15/30)
Title: Every Me and Every You (15/30)
Author: osaki_nana_707
Fandom: Inception/Mysterious Skin fusion
Word count: 3,004
Pairing: Neil/Eames
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: language, allusions to rape,child molestation, and prostitution
Summary: Neil McCormick is fraying at the seams. Then he meets Eames, professional dreamer.
Neil got the phone call from Eames exactly four days after their last conversation. It was barely daylight out as he slid into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, tugged on his old, beat up tennis shoes, and threw on his coat. His mom ruffled her hand through his hair (now with the back curls chopped off), and they shared a cigarette as they drove to the airport in the protesting Impala.
Neil did his best to act casual about the whole thing, talking about anything but Eames so he wouldn't appear excited. Still, in his head he was thinking about the man constantly, wondering what he'd gotten up to in Mombasa. Had he gambled away a paycheck or won one? What kind of food had he been eating? What cigarettes had he been smoking? Most of all he wondered who Eames had been sharing his bed with. Normally he didn't give a damn about that sort of stuff, and it wasn't like he and Eames were anywhere near exclusive, but when he thought about the man with someone else it just sort of bummed him out.
He hopped out of the car and assured his mother he'd be right back and to leave the car running (he feared it might fail to start again otherwise), and then he went inside, dodging a few kids chasing each other and nearly running into an old lady who was shuffling after them in the process. He rolled his eyes and headed off towards baggage claim, figuring that was where he'd find Eames.
He was right about that, but the insane urge to go running into his arms when he spotted him was entirely unexpected. Neil nearly stopped in his tracks completely because of it, feeling that bizarre ache in his chest he only seemed to get when Eames was around. When Eames turned and saw Neil standing there, when Neil could actually look into his eyes, that feeling got so much worse.
"Well," Eames said, smiling, and Neil wanted to just bask in the warmth of it, "there you are."
"Here I am," Neil said, shoving his hands in his pockets, keeping his expression as carefully neutral as he could manage.
Eames sauntered over, dropping the duffel bag he'd had over one shoulder at their feet when they were mere inches away from each other. "You've cut your hair," Eames said. "It looks nice."
"Thanks," Neil said awkwardly. He wanted to reach out and glide his fingers across Eames's mouth, as if his other bed partners had kissed their names in Braille there. "How was the flight?"
"I've had worse plane rides," he grinned at Neil. "I was looking forward to it I suppose. I've never been to Kansas before."
"You're not missing much," Neil said, picking up the man's bag and heading back towards the parking area.
"I'm sure you find ways to make things interesting whenever you're here," Eames said, falling into step next to Neil.
"Interesting is one way to put it," Neil replied. He wouldn't exactly label punching Brian in the face and then running scared down a frozen highway as interesting so much as just pathetic, but he'd lost enough sleep over that fact. "My mom's waiting with the car over here."
"Oh, so I get to meet your mum then?" Eames asked, sounding entirely too delighted.
"Yep," Neil said, "you sure do…"
The walk to the car was short, but by the time they got there they were both shivering. He was pretty sure wherever Eames had been was pretty warm because his skin was more bronzed than it had been last they saw each other. Eames climbed into the backseat, while Neil got back into the passenger side, and Ellen turned around in hers to give Eames a long onceover.
"Mr. Eames, I presume?" Ellen asked, putting on a rather atrocious fake English accent.
"That would be me," Eames said, smiling. "It's a pleasure."
"Ellen," she told him, holding out her hand to somewhat awkwardly shake. "Ellen McCormick."
The drive had been slow but not nearly as uncomfortable as the one with Eric. Ellen sang along to the songs playing on the tinny radio system, and Neil looked out the window-or rather feigned looking out the window. He could see Eames's reflection a little bit in the glass, and it was the best way to stare without directly looking at the man. Neil's mother would ask Eames questions during musical interludes, and Eames answered her expertly. Neil couldn't fathom how much Eames could talk about mind crime without actually talking about it.
"So, Mr. Eames," she said as she was pulling onto Monroe Street, "do you have yourself a girlfriend then?"
"Are you offering?" Eames teased, causing them both to laugh (and for Neil to just feel like his face was on fire). "No, no, I don't," he said more seriously although still smiling. "The girls have never quite been my interest."
"Ah, I see," Ellen said, grinning. She turned and sent a subtle wink at Neil, and Neil momentarily thought about killing himself out of embarrassment. "So, no boyfriend then either?"
"The travel that my kind of work requires doesn't really lend well to relationships, but when I'm with someone it is what I'd prefer. No, I'd suffice to say I'm single right now."
Neil looked into the rearview mirror and saw Eames's eyes, as if he was staring right at him. He swallowed. He was beyond relieved when they pulled up into the driveway, meaning that conversation could kind of peter off without a real destination. He was the first one at the front door, unlocking it with his own set of keys.
"It's not much," Ellen said, "but it's home. Feel free to make yourself comfortable, and I'll order us a pizza for dinner tonight. There's cereal on top of the fridge if you want breakfast. I actually have to get ready to go to work though so…"
"Thank you," Eames said, and she beamed at him.
As she passed by Neil to go take a shower, she whispered to him, "He's so cute, Neil." Neil did his best not to groan.
After she was gone, he tossed his coat over a chair and threw himself onto the couch. He opened his eyes when Eames lifted his feet and sat down in place of them, letting them fall into his lap. "She's normally not so embarrassing," Neil said flatly.
"It's a mother's job. She seems to like me though, so that's good."
"If I met your mother, she probably wouldn't like me very much," Neil said.
"Yes, well, she probably wouldn't but mostly because she didn't like that I had a preference for men. You don't have to worry about that though, since she died about two years ago."
Neil couldn't imagine such a thing. His mother might have been out of reach a lot of the time, but she was always there when it counted. He didn't say anything though because he doubted Eames was interested in pity over a two-year-old grave.
"I'm sorry, by the way," Eames said suddenly, and Neil raised an eyebrow at him. "Well… I mean, I probably should have woken you before I left, but you looked like you were sleeping so peacefully that I didn't dare to."
"Oh…" Neil said slowly. He hadn't expected that. "Uh… don't worry about it."
Eames sat back, staring at the television that had been left on. It was some daytime talk show, the trashy kind, and the volume was too low to really hear much of what was going on. "You sounded distressed when you called me the other day," he said softly. "Everything all right?"
"Yeah… just had a… a rough patch, I guess. I was pissed off at one of my friends. It's nothing."
Eames hummed softly. "Yes, I suppose I know how that feels… but it certainly didn't sound like nothing on the phone. You sounded like you were about to cry."
"Well I wasn't," Neil huffed. "I don't cry."
"I seem to remember you crying in my arms at least twice."
Neil clenched his jaw and looked away. He wasn't having any of that. "Shut up," he mumbled.
"It's okay to cry when you're hurting, you know… It's okay to feel remorse or anger when something bad happens. Bottling it all up doesn't help."
"I'm not bottling anything up," Neil complained. "I'm fine. It really was nothing… I don't even remember what we were fighting about…"
That was a lie, of course. He'd seen Brian's bleeding face in all of his daydreams, heard his bitter words echoing through his brain whenever he was alone.
"You don't know how it fucking feels because you liked it."
He really didn't know why that had set him off so quickly and so violently. He had liked it, hadn't he? For so long he'd looked upon that summer with fondness, afternoons wasted away between two lovers… but admittedly, since Christmas, the memories had lost their rose-colored hue, and he'd been sitting on that fact in conflict ever since. There was something eerily similar between that first time in the summer on Coach's kitchen floor and that night in Brighton Beach's bathtub… but he refused to focus on that connection. He didn't like the way it tasted in his mouth.
"So, who were you fighting with?" Eames asked.
Neil knew Eames would remember the name Brian from Neil's dream level, so instead he said, "Eric." It wasn't exactly a lie, since Eric hadn't shown his face on Monroe Street since Neil had told him to fuck off. He doubted Eric was all that angry with him and was likely just giving him some space, but his name was the one he went with.
"School mate of yours?"
"Yeah," Neil sighed, closing his eyes again for a minute. He could feel Eames gently squeezing his ankle, rubbing his thumb against the protruding bone. "He and I hung out mostly after Wendy left for New York. I had to finish school before I could meet her there. Eric's queer like me so we kind of just fell into step together. I mean… there aren't that many people who dress and act like us around here. If you aren't strong enough, you'll get your ass kicked."
"So, were you dating then?"
"No," Neil said, squirming a little. "We fucked once or twice when we were bored, but I was already hustling by then so I preferred to get my sex elsewhere. Eric was kind of obsessed with me for a while though. I don't know if he ever completely got over it."
Eames was silent for a moment, and then he asked, "When exactly did you start selling your body?"
Neil was tempted to say he'd been selling since he was eight, since Coach would hand him crisp five dollar bills after they had sex, but he was pretty sure Eames wouldn't understand that, so he just said, "I was fifteen. There's a park not too far from here, Carey Park, where I would go and wait. It was really easy. After I got a little older I'd go down to the gay bar instead."
Eames's expression was unreadable. Neil watched him curiously, waiting for some kind of response, but he never really got one.
"What was your first job?" Neil asked.
"Oh, me?" Eames said, blinking. "I was an actor. I did a couple of community shows, bit parts most of the time, but they paid me for it."
"So in a sense you kind of sold your body too," Neil said, grinning lazily. "You just sold it for applause rather than for orgasms."
"Well, there's less chance of contracting diseases from applause, I suppose," Eames said. "Did you never think of doing anything else?"
"I did the announcements at the baseball field… but no, not really… I always went back to hustling. It made better money than any stupid minimum wage job. I didn't have the grades or the work ethic for college, I don't think. I just kind of wanted to do whatever I wanted."
"Well, don't we all," Eames said, hesitated, and then said, "That night that we met though… you hadn't been selling yourself for a bit. You told me you hadn't been laid in a while. Did something change?"
"You're getting fucked whether you like it or not, slut."
"Business slows down during the holidays. Johns on the down low probably feel guiltier with Jesus looking at them from the street corners or whatever. Besides, Wendy wanted me to do some 'honest' work, I guess. She got me the job at the sub sandwich place."
Eames didn't look like he quite believed him, but he didn't say anything about it. "So you were basically making sandwiches until I came along then."
"You can see why I was so eager to join your community," Neil snorted. "It's not even about the money though… even though the money is fucking awesome. I just don't want to be bored anymore. I think too much about stupid shit when I'm bored."
"What kind of stupid shit?" Eames asked.
Neil didn't look into his eyes as he mumbled, "Nothing… just stuff, you know?"
Eames sighed, lifting Neil's legs so he could get out from under them, and Neil shut his eyes, intending on taking a nap so he wouldn't have to talk about it anymore.
"I think I'm going to get some of that cereal," Eames said, and Neil nearly jumped out of his skin when the man leaned over and kissed him right in the middle of his forehead. "Do you want any?"
"N-no, no thanks," Neil said, trying to keep the tremor out of his voice over the shock of what had just happened.
He heard the shower turn off in the bathroom down the hall.
After Neil's mom had gone off to work, Neil had gotten his nap, and Eames had finished his breakfast, they settled in to work. Eames showed Neil different types of surveillance equipment in booklets (he explained that it would be best not to carry bags upon bags of such devices onto a plane for fear that they'd never let him off of it). Neil listened intently as Eames explained what they did and how they worked, and he even took notes. Most of the tools had to be purchased on the black market or from double agents in the government, so they were far from cheap, but Eames assured Neil that he could use his until he got a set for himself.
When Eames asked Neil about the PASIV device, Neil assured him that it was safely locked away in his and Wendy's new apartment back in New York. He'd put it in a trunk that had a lock on it, and the key was currently residing around Neil's neck. "No one would bother to come looking for it in the hands of two punk kids like me and Wendy, but if they did, they'd at least be a little delayed because they don't have the key.
"So you bought a new place then," Eames said. "That's good. You two weren't exactly in the safest area of town."
"There are worse places," Neil shrugged, studying Eames's notes on different filing systems used by other pointmen in the business. Neil thought that their systems were a bit to contrived and complicated, and he intended to make up his own that would be easier for everyone to understand. "Nobody would dare fuck with Wendy or me anyway, but now we have a really kickass loft."
"I'm looking forward to seeing it when we go back for the PASIV. Also, I've been looking for work and I found a job for us. It's a simple extraction job, no need for a forger so I'd be the extractor, but the payout is pretty nice. It would be good practice for you. We would start setting up in three weeks from now over in Paris. Interested?"
Neil looked at him, eyes bright with excitement. "Of course I'm interested," he said. "That sounds fucking awesome. I've never been to Paris before. Hell, I've never even been out of the country."
"Well, I'll have it set up then, and I'll call an architect to build it, and a chemist friend of mine, Sasha, still owes me a favor or two."
"Can Wendy come?" Neil asked. "I mean… she's my best friend. She'd probably be pretty pissed if she didn't get to come along."
"Does she have a passport?"
"I don't know," Neil shrugged. "She could probably get one though, right?"
Eames looked skeptical. "I don't know if it's necessarily safe to bring a tourist along."
"She won't be at the jobsite. She can just stay in my hotel room or whatever. If you think about it, we'd be even less suspicious because people will think she and I are just a couple vacationing overseas. I'll even buy her fancy clothes or whatever if you want."
The truth was that, while Neil could go weeks and months without seeing Wendy and manage just fine, at this point in time he really didn't want to. His feelings were already conflicting enough, and whenever he was in doubt he could go to Wendy. She was the only person who knew his secret (one of them, at least), and he knew she could help him make sense of these weird new emotions that Eames was bringing to the surface.
He also didn't feel quite safe to go anywhere by himself since Brighton Beach.
"I'll see what I can do," Eames sighed, giving in. "You have got some ridiculous puppy dog eyes on you, mate."
Neil smiled and put his arms around Eames and for a moment just leaned into his warmth.
As much as he hated to admit it, he wasn't sure his mom was so wrong about him having a crush after all.
Author: osaki_nana_707
Fandom: Inception/Mysterious Skin fusion
Word count: 3,004
Pairing: Neil/Eames
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: language, allusions to rape,child molestation, and prostitution
Summary: Neil McCormick is fraying at the seams. Then he meets Eames, professional dreamer.
Neil got the phone call from Eames exactly four days after their last conversation. It was barely daylight out as he slid into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, tugged on his old, beat up tennis shoes, and threw on his coat. His mom ruffled her hand through his hair (now with the back curls chopped off), and they shared a cigarette as they drove to the airport in the protesting Impala.
Neil did his best to act casual about the whole thing, talking about anything but Eames so he wouldn't appear excited. Still, in his head he was thinking about the man constantly, wondering what he'd gotten up to in Mombasa. Had he gambled away a paycheck or won one? What kind of food had he been eating? What cigarettes had he been smoking? Most of all he wondered who Eames had been sharing his bed with. Normally he didn't give a damn about that sort of stuff, and it wasn't like he and Eames were anywhere near exclusive, but when he thought about the man with someone else it just sort of bummed him out.
He hopped out of the car and assured his mother he'd be right back and to leave the car running (he feared it might fail to start again otherwise), and then he went inside, dodging a few kids chasing each other and nearly running into an old lady who was shuffling after them in the process. He rolled his eyes and headed off towards baggage claim, figuring that was where he'd find Eames.
He was right about that, but the insane urge to go running into his arms when he spotted him was entirely unexpected. Neil nearly stopped in his tracks completely because of it, feeling that bizarre ache in his chest he only seemed to get when Eames was around. When Eames turned and saw Neil standing there, when Neil could actually look into his eyes, that feeling got so much worse.
"Well," Eames said, smiling, and Neil wanted to just bask in the warmth of it, "there you are."
"Here I am," Neil said, shoving his hands in his pockets, keeping his expression as carefully neutral as he could manage.
Eames sauntered over, dropping the duffel bag he'd had over one shoulder at their feet when they were mere inches away from each other. "You've cut your hair," Eames said. "It looks nice."
"Thanks," Neil said awkwardly. He wanted to reach out and glide his fingers across Eames's mouth, as if his other bed partners had kissed their names in Braille there. "How was the flight?"
"I've had worse plane rides," he grinned at Neil. "I was looking forward to it I suppose. I've never been to Kansas before."
"You're not missing much," Neil said, picking up the man's bag and heading back towards the parking area.
"I'm sure you find ways to make things interesting whenever you're here," Eames said, falling into step next to Neil.
"Interesting is one way to put it," Neil replied. He wouldn't exactly label punching Brian in the face and then running scared down a frozen highway as interesting so much as just pathetic, but he'd lost enough sleep over that fact. "My mom's waiting with the car over here."
"Oh, so I get to meet your mum then?" Eames asked, sounding entirely too delighted.
"Yep," Neil said, "you sure do…"
The walk to the car was short, but by the time they got there they were both shivering. He was pretty sure wherever Eames had been was pretty warm because his skin was more bronzed than it had been last they saw each other. Eames climbed into the backseat, while Neil got back into the passenger side, and Ellen turned around in hers to give Eames a long onceover.
"Mr. Eames, I presume?" Ellen asked, putting on a rather atrocious fake English accent.
"That would be me," Eames said, smiling. "It's a pleasure."
"Ellen," she told him, holding out her hand to somewhat awkwardly shake. "Ellen McCormick."
The drive had been slow but not nearly as uncomfortable as the one with Eric. Ellen sang along to the songs playing on the tinny radio system, and Neil looked out the window-or rather feigned looking out the window. He could see Eames's reflection a little bit in the glass, and it was the best way to stare without directly looking at the man. Neil's mother would ask Eames questions during musical interludes, and Eames answered her expertly. Neil couldn't fathom how much Eames could talk about mind crime without actually talking about it.
"So, Mr. Eames," she said as she was pulling onto Monroe Street, "do you have yourself a girlfriend then?"
"Are you offering?" Eames teased, causing them both to laugh (and for Neil to just feel like his face was on fire). "No, no, I don't," he said more seriously although still smiling. "The girls have never quite been my interest."
"Ah, I see," Ellen said, grinning. She turned and sent a subtle wink at Neil, and Neil momentarily thought about killing himself out of embarrassment. "So, no boyfriend then either?"
"The travel that my kind of work requires doesn't really lend well to relationships, but when I'm with someone it is what I'd prefer. No, I'd suffice to say I'm single right now."
Neil looked into the rearview mirror and saw Eames's eyes, as if he was staring right at him. He swallowed. He was beyond relieved when they pulled up into the driveway, meaning that conversation could kind of peter off without a real destination. He was the first one at the front door, unlocking it with his own set of keys.
"It's not much," Ellen said, "but it's home. Feel free to make yourself comfortable, and I'll order us a pizza for dinner tonight. There's cereal on top of the fridge if you want breakfast. I actually have to get ready to go to work though so…"
"Thank you," Eames said, and she beamed at him.
As she passed by Neil to go take a shower, she whispered to him, "He's so cute, Neil." Neil did his best not to groan.
After she was gone, he tossed his coat over a chair and threw himself onto the couch. He opened his eyes when Eames lifted his feet and sat down in place of them, letting them fall into his lap. "She's normally not so embarrassing," Neil said flatly.
"It's a mother's job. She seems to like me though, so that's good."
"If I met your mother, she probably wouldn't like me very much," Neil said.
"Yes, well, she probably wouldn't but mostly because she didn't like that I had a preference for men. You don't have to worry about that though, since she died about two years ago."
Neil couldn't imagine such a thing. His mother might have been out of reach a lot of the time, but she was always there when it counted. He didn't say anything though because he doubted Eames was interested in pity over a two-year-old grave.
"I'm sorry, by the way," Eames said suddenly, and Neil raised an eyebrow at him. "Well… I mean, I probably should have woken you before I left, but you looked like you were sleeping so peacefully that I didn't dare to."
"Oh…" Neil said slowly. He hadn't expected that. "Uh… don't worry about it."
Eames sat back, staring at the television that had been left on. It was some daytime talk show, the trashy kind, and the volume was too low to really hear much of what was going on. "You sounded distressed when you called me the other day," he said softly. "Everything all right?"
"Yeah… just had a… a rough patch, I guess. I was pissed off at one of my friends. It's nothing."
Eames hummed softly. "Yes, I suppose I know how that feels… but it certainly didn't sound like nothing on the phone. You sounded like you were about to cry."
"Well I wasn't," Neil huffed. "I don't cry."
"I seem to remember you crying in my arms at least twice."
Neil clenched his jaw and looked away. He wasn't having any of that. "Shut up," he mumbled.
"It's okay to cry when you're hurting, you know… It's okay to feel remorse or anger when something bad happens. Bottling it all up doesn't help."
"I'm not bottling anything up," Neil complained. "I'm fine. It really was nothing… I don't even remember what we were fighting about…"
That was a lie, of course. He'd seen Brian's bleeding face in all of his daydreams, heard his bitter words echoing through his brain whenever he was alone.
"You don't know how it fucking feels because you liked it."
He really didn't know why that had set him off so quickly and so violently. He had liked it, hadn't he? For so long he'd looked upon that summer with fondness, afternoons wasted away between two lovers… but admittedly, since Christmas, the memories had lost their rose-colored hue, and he'd been sitting on that fact in conflict ever since. There was something eerily similar between that first time in the summer on Coach's kitchen floor and that night in Brighton Beach's bathtub… but he refused to focus on that connection. He didn't like the way it tasted in his mouth.
"So, who were you fighting with?" Eames asked.
Neil knew Eames would remember the name Brian from Neil's dream level, so instead he said, "Eric." It wasn't exactly a lie, since Eric hadn't shown his face on Monroe Street since Neil had told him to fuck off. He doubted Eric was all that angry with him and was likely just giving him some space, but his name was the one he went with.
"School mate of yours?"
"Yeah," Neil sighed, closing his eyes again for a minute. He could feel Eames gently squeezing his ankle, rubbing his thumb against the protruding bone. "He and I hung out mostly after Wendy left for New York. I had to finish school before I could meet her there. Eric's queer like me so we kind of just fell into step together. I mean… there aren't that many people who dress and act like us around here. If you aren't strong enough, you'll get your ass kicked."
"So, were you dating then?"
"No," Neil said, squirming a little. "We fucked once or twice when we were bored, but I was already hustling by then so I preferred to get my sex elsewhere. Eric was kind of obsessed with me for a while though. I don't know if he ever completely got over it."
Eames was silent for a moment, and then he asked, "When exactly did you start selling your body?"
Neil was tempted to say he'd been selling since he was eight, since Coach would hand him crisp five dollar bills after they had sex, but he was pretty sure Eames wouldn't understand that, so he just said, "I was fifteen. There's a park not too far from here, Carey Park, where I would go and wait. It was really easy. After I got a little older I'd go down to the gay bar instead."
Eames's expression was unreadable. Neil watched him curiously, waiting for some kind of response, but he never really got one.
"What was your first job?" Neil asked.
"Oh, me?" Eames said, blinking. "I was an actor. I did a couple of community shows, bit parts most of the time, but they paid me for it."
"So in a sense you kind of sold your body too," Neil said, grinning lazily. "You just sold it for applause rather than for orgasms."
"Well, there's less chance of contracting diseases from applause, I suppose," Eames said. "Did you never think of doing anything else?"
"I did the announcements at the baseball field… but no, not really… I always went back to hustling. It made better money than any stupid minimum wage job. I didn't have the grades or the work ethic for college, I don't think. I just kind of wanted to do whatever I wanted."
"Well, don't we all," Eames said, hesitated, and then said, "That night that we met though… you hadn't been selling yourself for a bit. You told me you hadn't been laid in a while. Did something change?"
"You're getting fucked whether you like it or not, slut."
"Business slows down during the holidays. Johns on the down low probably feel guiltier with Jesus looking at them from the street corners or whatever. Besides, Wendy wanted me to do some 'honest' work, I guess. She got me the job at the sub sandwich place."
Eames didn't look like he quite believed him, but he didn't say anything about it. "So you were basically making sandwiches until I came along then."
"You can see why I was so eager to join your community," Neil snorted. "It's not even about the money though… even though the money is fucking awesome. I just don't want to be bored anymore. I think too much about stupid shit when I'm bored."
"What kind of stupid shit?" Eames asked.
Neil didn't look into his eyes as he mumbled, "Nothing… just stuff, you know?"
Eames sighed, lifting Neil's legs so he could get out from under them, and Neil shut his eyes, intending on taking a nap so he wouldn't have to talk about it anymore.
"I think I'm going to get some of that cereal," Eames said, and Neil nearly jumped out of his skin when the man leaned over and kissed him right in the middle of his forehead. "Do you want any?"
"N-no, no thanks," Neil said, trying to keep the tremor out of his voice over the shock of what had just happened.
He heard the shower turn off in the bathroom down the hall.
After Neil's mom had gone off to work, Neil had gotten his nap, and Eames had finished his breakfast, they settled in to work. Eames showed Neil different types of surveillance equipment in booklets (he explained that it would be best not to carry bags upon bags of such devices onto a plane for fear that they'd never let him off of it). Neil listened intently as Eames explained what they did and how they worked, and he even took notes. Most of the tools had to be purchased on the black market or from double agents in the government, so they were far from cheap, but Eames assured Neil that he could use his until he got a set for himself.
When Eames asked Neil about the PASIV device, Neil assured him that it was safely locked away in his and Wendy's new apartment back in New York. He'd put it in a trunk that had a lock on it, and the key was currently residing around Neil's neck. "No one would bother to come looking for it in the hands of two punk kids like me and Wendy, but if they did, they'd at least be a little delayed because they don't have the key.
"So you bought a new place then," Eames said. "That's good. You two weren't exactly in the safest area of town."
"There are worse places," Neil shrugged, studying Eames's notes on different filing systems used by other pointmen in the business. Neil thought that their systems were a bit to contrived and complicated, and he intended to make up his own that would be easier for everyone to understand. "Nobody would dare fuck with Wendy or me anyway, but now we have a really kickass loft."
"I'm looking forward to seeing it when we go back for the PASIV. Also, I've been looking for work and I found a job for us. It's a simple extraction job, no need for a forger so I'd be the extractor, but the payout is pretty nice. It would be good practice for you. We would start setting up in three weeks from now over in Paris. Interested?"
Neil looked at him, eyes bright with excitement. "Of course I'm interested," he said. "That sounds fucking awesome. I've never been to Paris before. Hell, I've never even been out of the country."
"Well, I'll have it set up then, and I'll call an architect to build it, and a chemist friend of mine, Sasha, still owes me a favor or two."
"Can Wendy come?" Neil asked. "I mean… she's my best friend. She'd probably be pretty pissed if she didn't get to come along."
"Does she have a passport?"
"I don't know," Neil shrugged. "She could probably get one though, right?"
Eames looked skeptical. "I don't know if it's necessarily safe to bring a tourist along."
"She won't be at the jobsite. She can just stay in my hotel room or whatever. If you think about it, we'd be even less suspicious because people will think she and I are just a couple vacationing overseas. I'll even buy her fancy clothes or whatever if you want."
The truth was that, while Neil could go weeks and months without seeing Wendy and manage just fine, at this point in time he really didn't want to. His feelings were already conflicting enough, and whenever he was in doubt he could go to Wendy. She was the only person who knew his secret (one of them, at least), and he knew she could help him make sense of these weird new emotions that Eames was bringing to the surface.
He also didn't feel quite safe to go anywhere by himself since Brighton Beach.
"I'll see what I can do," Eames sighed, giving in. "You have got some ridiculous puppy dog eyes on you, mate."
Neil smiled and put his arms around Eames and for a moment just leaned into his warmth.
As much as he hated to admit it, he wasn't sure his mom was so wrong about him having a crush after all.