read the right books (to interpret your looks) [inception]
Title: read the right books (to interpret your looks)
Fandom: Inception
Summary: Dreams are never any preparation for reality.
Pairing: Ariadne/Arthur
Rating: PG-13
Notes: For inception_kink prompt "Five times Ariadne thought Arthur was going to kiss her on a job, and one time he did." (not all on the job, but still)
01. We are in a taxi cab.
It is raining. Arthur stares out the window while Ariadne toys listlessly with the pawn in her pocket.
Do you ever stop? he asks, giving her a rare, open grin. She shrugs. (he's always watching her when she isn't looking) I know how you feel. It's nice to know you're someplace solid. She nods, tipping the pawn over in her palm. The cab breaks and they get out, rushing under an awning. He buys her a coffee, but it doesn't do much. There's a chill inside her that goes to the bone.
(she reckons it has more to do with arthur than the rain)
I'll walk you home, he says, opening an umbrella and stepping outside. The rain is a drizzle now, and she doesn't live far. Cobb helped her get the apartment in New York, but it doesn't mean she's used to it. It's bigger than her Paris flat, and she doesn't have school to distract her anymore. Just one job after another.
(she's scared the jobs will become a solid, neverending dream, but arthur's sanity makes her think otherwise)
Ariadne stands awkwardly by her building, fumbling with her keys while Arthur waits patiently with the umbrella. He's watching her cheek. There's a raindrop running down her skin, marking a path toward her chin. He reaches out and wipes it away, sending a visible chill through her body.
(standing in the rain, his hand on her face, she wants to drag him inside and be the other half mal told her about)
See you tomorrow.
Ariadne opens the door to her build and watches Arthur blend into the sea of dark umbrellas and coats making their way down the street. She looks until she can't see him anymore, then goes inside.
02. We are in Barbados.
A dream Barbados. Ariadne has always had a hard time with the ocean. Its size and expanse makes her feel so real. She even forgets her pawn, forgets what it means.
(arthur is always there to bring her back)
He forces her to tip the totem over in her hand. You always lose yourself in the ocean.
Nothing is more real than this, she whispers, leaning into him and watching the waves hit the shore. She wonders how often Cobb and Mal had stood like this, in their world, far away from anyone's dreams. Far down and deeper than anyone had gone before.
I know what you're thinking, Arthur says, a smile fighting to reach his mouth.
No, she says quietly. You don't.
He looks right at her then, making her drop the pawn in the sand. His hand goes for it, but stops. Quickly, she snatches it up and walks away from him.
They don't have time to waste time on the beach. There's real work to be done.
Ariadne. He calls her name, forcing her to turn around and look at him.
(he's always forcing her into something)
They're close (too close) and he moves away. He won't steal anymore kisses from her. Not today.
03. We are in a park.
I think, outside the dreams, this is my favorite place. She's taken him here for lunch, forcing him to buy a bad sandwich from the vender and eat on a bench with her. His face is sour looking, and the sandwich, she's sure, tastes awful. But it's not important. He hooks his arm around her shoulder and tosses the food away.
I'll cook you some real food later. He looks proud of himself.
You cook? Arthur nods, grinning. She's rarely seen him so happy. She makes a noise of approval and settles into the crook of his arm again, fiddling with the hem of her skirt. His lips are very close to her head, eyes watching her while she is concetrating on a group of pigeons across the sidewalk.
(her gaze is always tilted away, but if he met her eyes, he'd have to do something about it)
Thumb grazing her shoulder, Arthur draws suddenly away, feeling the twists of want in his gut, knowing full well she knows and understands what he wants (can't have right now). Gotta go, he mumbles. Call you. And he's away, far from the park in moments, tipping the weighted die over and over again in his palm, reassuring himself that it's all real.
If he knew what she did when she went home (hand pressed hard between her legs, his name on her lips), he might not feel so bad about doing the same thing, groaning and spilling his want into the shower drain, hissing from stopping himself from getting the thing he wants most.
On a Tuesday evening, he cooks her a proper meal and they don't talk about how he ran from her, ran far from where she was. Because she is close to him, leaning against him while they do dishes together, reaching for the soapy rag at the same time. Ariadne holds his fingers tight for a moment, then lets go. He's about to do it, he's going to do it -
Your phone, she whispers, lips a breath away from him.
He swears, he'll flay Eames within an inch of his life tomorrow.
04. We are lost.
Another maze. Cobb is making her make more lately. Streets that wind around and around inside Arthur's head. His subconscious, she notes, is relatively more polite and patient than Cobb's, much like Arthur.
They're a reflection of the dreamer, essentially.
I like them, Ariadne says, smiling to a woman as they pass one another. She doesn't return the smile, but she doesn't stab her either. Which is always a step up from her previous experiences.
But Arthur is lost now, and she's changing too much too quickly. On purpose, he knows. Trying to trip him up. Frustrated, he realizes he's lost her, but if that's on purpose, he doesn't know. Her voice is quiet in his ears, teasing him softly. Lost in your own mind?
This is your fault. She laughs and is there next to him again. Arthur doesn't like this, the feeling of not being able to find his way in his own head. He remembers the twisting stair case, the endless circle, the final paradox. He wonders if she's doing it now, in his head. Creating one singular look to negate his every step.
The timer goes off. Arthur scowls and opens his eyes, watching Ariadne shift in her seat and stretch.
(wathes her grinning like a cat)
You shouldn't do that. It's not safe. She holds up her hands, shaking her head.
You're so serious. Relax. Arthur feels his back tense. He hates it when people say that. Especially her. They've spent enough time together. She should know. I'm sorry. It won't happen again. They lean over a table, looking at maze drawings and designs. He rubs his eyes and shakes off the exhaustion. But Ariadne's yawning and suddenly so is he.
Let's head off, he murmurs, grabbing his coat. She nods and follows. He's so tired. So very very tired.
Leaning against the elevator walls, Arthur thinks he might just sleep here. He closes his eyes, vaguely aware Ariadne is shaking him.
Stupid, she mutters, jamming the "open" button with her thumb over and over until he snaps away. He walks out, catching her voice behind him. I thought I was going to have to kiss you awake.
05. We are in the snow.
Snow angels are a stupid concept, Arthur believes. He watches Ariadne make one, then shiver as the snow snakes its way up her back.
We're here to work, he snaps, turning away from her.
Eames is right. You are a stick in the mud. Arthur doesn't respond. Ariadne shivers from the cold and keeps moving forward. There's a safe in one of these buildings, but he doesn't know if he trusts her enough to find it. She's too new. It's cold.
Shouldn't roll around in the snow, he mutters. But she's right. It's cold now.
(blue skin against his dark jacket, still freezing)
Not natural, she mutters. Arthur instinctively puts his arm around her, pulling her close. She's so thin, so very thin in his arms. His mind runs through a thousand ways they could be warm, each more inappropriate than the last. Eventually, she realizes he's staring at her and blushes.
Arthur, she manages. We're here to work. He nods and moves his hands away from her.
When they wake up, Ariadne can still feel the cold and she can still feel his arm around her. But he won't look and he won't respond when she's inches from his face. He closes his eyes and leans forward, feeling her breath on his skin.
Good night, Ariadne.
She wonders if he really wants her at all, or if he just enjoys teasing her.
06. We are alone.
Arthur wants to wake up. He needs the kick. She needs to kick.
I don't want to be here anymore, she whispers, the dream darkening around them.
No one meant for it to become the layered nightmare it is now. Ariadne trembles violently, her body visibly shaking.
Kiss me, Arthur says suddenly.
What? We don't have time-
The kick. We need a kick. Kiss me. Then, more sternly, I'm not asking your permission.
So Ariadne leans up and kisses him, hard and slow. Because if he wants it from her, she's going to give it to him. All the passed up moments, the rain and the snow and the park - his flat, hers.
(she remembers another kiss, not unlike this one and not like it at all)
There's a moment in every kiss where it gets carried away, when good enough. Arthur presses her against a wall, his lips hugging her neck, hands in her hair. He grazes his teeth over the sensitive skin of her collar bone, fingers splaying over her breasts, her stomach, her ribs. She knots her fingers in his shirt, pulling him close.
There's a dip of the head, the sensation of falling out of time and space.
There's a kick.
Ariadne sits up, gasping and looking around. It's dark. Arthur turns on a light, his body not as straight as it was when they started. He pulls off his tie.
I'm sorry. She shakes her head, tipping the pawn back and forth, watching him mutter into the weighted die, voice fuzzy on her ears. I'm sorry. It keeps coming out until his face is in his hands and he talking to himself, saying nothing she understands.
Eventually, he's quiet. The Arthur she knows is back.
(he always comes back, no matter what)
Arthur, she says suddenly. He turns and she presses her lips urgently to his.
Dreams are never any preparation for reality.
Fandom: Inception
Summary: Dreams are never any preparation for reality.
Pairing: Ariadne/Arthur
Rating: PG-13
Notes: For inception_kink prompt "Five times Ariadne thought Arthur was going to kiss her on a job, and one time he did." (not all on the job, but still)
01. We are in a taxi cab.
It is raining. Arthur stares out the window while Ariadne toys listlessly with the pawn in her pocket.
Do you ever stop? he asks, giving her a rare, open grin. She shrugs. (he's always watching her when she isn't looking) I know how you feel. It's nice to know you're someplace solid. She nods, tipping the pawn over in her palm. The cab breaks and they get out, rushing under an awning. He buys her a coffee, but it doesn't do much. There's a chill inside her that goes to the bone.
(she reckons it has more to do with arthur than the rain)
I'll walk you home, he says, opening an umbrella and stepping outside. The rain is a drizzle now, and she doesn't live far. Cobb helped her get the apartment in New York, but it doesn't mean she's used to it. It's bigger than her Paris flat, and she doesn't have school to distract her anymore. Just one job after another.
(she's scared the jobs will become a solid, neverending dream, but arthur's sanity makes her think otherwise)
Ariadne stands awkwardly by her building, fumbling with her keys while Arthur waits patiently with the umbrella. He's watching her cheek. There's a raindrop running down her skin, marking a path toward her chin. He reaches out and wipes it away, sending a visible chill through her body.
(standing in the rain, his hand on her face, she wants to drag him inside and be the other half mal told her about)
See you tomorrow.
Ariadne opens the door to her build and watches Arthur blend into the sea of dark umbrellas and coats making their way down the street. She looks until she can't see him anymore, then goes inside.
02. We are in Barbados.
A dream Barbados. Ariadne has always had a hard time with the ocean. Its size and expanse makes her feel so real. She even forgets her pawn, forgets what it means.
(arthur is always there to bring her back)
He forces her to tip the totem over in her hand. You always lose yourself in the ocean.
Nothing is more real than this, she whispers, leaning into him and watching the waves hit the shore. She wonders how often Cobb and Mal had stood like this, in their world, far away from anyone's dreams. Far down and deeper than anyone had gone before.
I know what you're thinking, Arthur says, a smile fighting to reach his mouth.
No, she says quietly. You don't.
He looks right at her then, making her drop the pawn in the sand. His hand goes for it, but stops. Quickly, she snatches it up and walks away from him.
They don't have time to waste time on the beach. There's real work to be done.
Ariadne. He calls her name, forcing her to turn around and look at him.
(he's always forcing her into something)
They're close (too close) and he moves away. He won't steal anymore kisses from her. Not today.
03. We are in a park.
I think, outside the dreams, this is my favorite place. She's taken him here for lunch, forcing him to buy a bad sandwich from the vender and eat on a bench with her. His face is sour looking, and the sandwich, she's sure, tastes awful. But it's not important. He hooks his arm around her shoulder and tosses the food away.
I'll cook you some real food later. He looks proud of himself.
You cook? Arthur nods, grinning. She's rarely seen him so happy. She makes a noise of approval and settles into the crook of his arm again, fiddling with the hem of her skirt. His lips are very close to her head, eyes watching her while she is concetrating on a group of pigeons across the sidewalk.
(her gaze is always tilted away, but if he met her eyes, he'd have to do something about it)
Thumb grazing her shoulder, Arthur draws suddenly away, feeling the twists of want in his gut, knowing full well she knows and understands what he wants (can't have right now). Gotta go, he mumbles. Call you. And he's away, far from the park in moments, tipping the weighted die over and over again in his palm, reassuring himself that it's all real.
If he knew what she did when she went home (hand pressed hard between her legs, his name on her lips), he might not feel so bad about doing the same thing, groaning and spilling his want into the shower drain, hissing from stopping himself from getting the thing he wants most.
On a Tuesday evening, he cooks her a proper meal and they don't talk about how he ran from her, ran far from where she was. Because she is close to him, leaning against him while they do dishes together, reaching for the soapy rag at the same time. Ariadne holds his fingers tight for a moment, then lets go. He's about to do it, he's going to do it -
Your phone, she whispers, lips a breath away from him.
He swears, he'll flay Eames within an inch of his life tomorrow.
04. We are lost.
Another maze. Cobb is making her make more lately. Streets that wind around and around inside Arthur's head. His subconscious, she notes, is relatively more polite and patient than Cobb's, much like Arthur.
They're a reflection of the dreamer, essentially.
I like them, Ariadne says, smiling to a woman as they pass one another. She doesn't return the smile, but she doesn't stab her either. Which is always a step up from her previous experiences.
But Arthur is lost now, and she's changing too much too quickly. On purpose, he knows. Trying to trip him up. Frustrated, he realizes he's lost her, but if that's on purpose, he doesn't know. Her voice is quiet in his ears, teasing him softly. Lost in your own mind?
This is your fault. She laughs and is there next to him again. Arthur doesn't like this, the feeling of not being able to find his way in his own head. He remembers the twisting stair case, the endless circle, the final paradox. He wonders if she's doing it now, in his head. Creating one singular look to negate his every step.
The timer goes off. Arthur scowls and opens his eyes, watching Ariadne shift in her seat and stretch.
(wathes her grinning like a cat)
You shouldn't do that. It's not safe. She holds up her hands, shaking her head.
You're so serious. Relax. Arthur feels his back tense. He hates it when people say that. Especially her. They've spent enough time together. She should know. I'm sorry. It won't happen again. They lean over a table, looking at maze drawings and designs. He rubs his eyes and shakes off the exhaustion. But Ariadne's yawning and suddenly so is he.
Let's head off, he murmurs, grabbing his coat. She nods and follows. He's so tired. So very very tired.
Leaning against the elevator walls, Arthur thinks he might just sleep here. He closes his eyes, vaguely aware Ariadne is shaking him.
Stupid, she mutters, jamming the "open" button with her thumb over and over until he snaps away. He walks out, catching her voice behind him. I thought I was going to have to kiss you awake.
05. We are in the snow.
Snow angels are a stupid concept, Arthur believes. He watches Ariadne make one, then shiver as the snow snakes its way up her back.
We're here to work, he snaps, turning away from her.
Eames is right. You are a stick in the mud. Arthur doesn't respond. Ariadne shivers from the cold and keeps moving forward. There's a safe in one of these buildings, but he doesn't know if he trusts her enough to find it. She's too new. It's cold.
Shouldn't roll around in the snow, he mutters. But she's right. It's cold now.
(blue skin against his dark jacket, still freezing)
Not natural, she mutters. Arthur instinctively puts his arm around her, pulling her close. She's so thin, so very thin in his arms. His mind runs through a thousand ways they could be warm, each more inappropriate than the last. Eventually, she realizes he's staring at her and blushes.
Arthur, she manages. We're here to work. He nods and moves his hands away from her.
When they wake up, Ariadne can still feel the cold and she can still feel his arm around her. But he won't look and he won't respond when she's inches from his face. He closes his eyes and leans forward, feeling her breath on his skin.
Good night, Ariadne.
She wonders if he really wants her at all, or if he just enjoys teasing her.
06. We are alone.
Arthur wants to wake up. He needs the kick. She needs to kick.
I don't want to be here anymore, she whispers, the dream darkening around them.
No one meant for it to become the layered nightmare it is now. Ariadne trembles violently, her body visibly shaking.
Kiss me, Arthur says suddenly.
What? We don't have time-
The kick. We need a kick. Kiss me. Then, more sternly, I'm not asking your permission.
So Ariadne leans up and kisses him, hard and slow. Because if he wants it from her, she's going to give it to him. All the passed up moments, the rain and the snow and the park - his flat, hers.
(she remembers another kiss, not unlike this one and not like it at all)
There's a moment in every kiss where it gets carried away, when good enough. Arthur presses her against a wall, his lips hugging her neck, hands in her hair. He grazes his teeth over the sensitive skin of her collar bone, fingers splaying over her breasts, her stomach, her ribs. She knots her fingers in his shirt, pulling him close.
There's a dip of the head, the sensation of falling out of time and space.
There's a kick.
Ariadne sits up, gasping and looking around. It's dark. Arthur turns on a light, his body not as straight as it was when they started. He pulls off his tie.
I'm sorry. She shakes her head, tipping the pawn back and forth, watching him mutter into the weighted die, voice fuzzy on her ears. I'm sorry. It keeps coming out until his face is in his hands and he talking to himself, saying nothing she understands.
Eventually, he's quiet. The Arthur she knows is back.
(he always comes back, no matter what)
Arthur, she says suddenly. He turns and she presses her lips urgently to his.
Dreams are never any preparation for reality.