Oneshot: my love for you goes tick tock, tick tock (Arthur/Ariadne)
Okay, so today I was talking to a friend and we somehow got talking about Inception and how she's new to the fandom and then she asked if I ever wrote Arthur/Ariadne, so I said, "Clockshop!AU." And then she tried to find it and came up with nothing and I realized that I NEVER POSTED IT WTAF. So, yeah. Here's clockshop!AU.
Title: my love for you goes tick tock, tick tock
Author: sarahyyy
Rating: PG-13
Character/Pairing: Arthur/Ariadne
Word Count: 2000+
Summary: Ariadne works at an antique clock shop. Arthur is her regular. Also, she might be developing stalker tendencies. It's a problem, really.
Disclaimer: I do not, in any way, own anything.
A/N: This is supposed to be written for happyfew as her birthday drabble. Her prompt was 'clocks'. I AM SO SORRY IT'S SO, SO LATE. >.< I swear I thought I posted it. First Arthur/Ariadne in ever, so please be kind? XD
The doorbell jingles and Ariadne looks up.
“Back so soon, Mr. Trent?” she asks, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips. It is fast becoming a tradition, Mr. Trent coming every evening to browse through the extensive collection of antique clocks in the shop.
“Arthur,” he murmurs with a slight frown.
She shakes her head. “Mr. Trent,” she insists.
He sighs at that. “Is there anything new?”
“Since yesterday?” she asks and quirks a smile, “No, I don’t suppose so. But there will be new stocks coming in from China this weekend, though. It’s a huge shipment, there might be delays. If I were you, I’d not expect them until next week.” Thoughtfully, she adds, “I thought I told you that yesterday?”
He flushes, just lightly. “I guess I forgot.”
She props her elbows up on the counter. “Rough day at work?”
He frowns. “Not really, to be honest,” he says thoughtfully, “But I’ve been feeling so tired the whole day. I keep waking up at strange hours. It’s pretty odd, actually.”
“Insomnia?” she asks.
He shakes his head. “I don’t think so. I keep hearing clocks ticking in my sleep but when I wake up, it’s stupidly silent.”
Ariadne laughs. “You do have an awful lot of clocks at your house,” she reasons.
He blushes. “I like clocks.”
“Mm hmm,” she murmurs patronizingly, “I’m sure you do.”
His flush deepens and his eyes dart to his watch. “I do,” he insists, then, “I’ll come back some other time then; next week, maybe, for the new clocks from China.”
Ariadne laughs. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mr. Trent.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she sees him grit his teeth slightly and sees his hand freeze on the door knob and wishes, just briefly that he won’t leave so soon. She will never admit it, not even at gunpoint, but Mr. Trent’s daily visit to the antique clock shop is the only part of her job that is actually interesting.
But then the doorbell jingles again and Mr. Trent is out of the door.
Ariadne wonders for the rest of the day why he was so tensed before he left the shop, wonders if she said something wrong and wonders what colour his tie would be tomorrow.
---
Mr. Trent doesn’t come in the next day.
‘He’s trying to prove a point,’ Ariadne thinks to herself.
She is smiling to herself as she closes the shop for the day, wondering if he wore what she has dubbed as his Tuesday Teal Tie today.
‘Tomorrow,’ she thinks, ‘He’ll be back tomorrow.’
Because he is Mr. Trent and the last time he missed coming into the shop for a day, he spent twice the amount of time he usually does there the next day.
---
Only he doesn’t come in the next day.
--
Or the next and Ariadne is getting awfully antsy because Mr. Trent -Arthur- is a man of routines and he doesn’t just quit a routine in the middle of it.
He can’t, not even to prove a point because that would be stupid and immature.
--
By the Friday, Ariadne is suitably impressed.
If Mr. Trent is trying to prove a point, if he is trying to prove that he can totally quit coming into the shop until next week, he is doing a brilliant job out of it.
But it doesn’t mean that she is happy about it.
Maybe she will ignore him when he comes in the next time.
Maybe she will call in sick on Monday.
An eye for an eye and all.
---
Ariadne likes her employers.
Dom and Mal are extremely nice to her and they understand that she is only working part time in the shop because she has to pay for university. Dom lets her ramble about architecture during lunch sometimes (read: every day) and offers some really good insight once in a while; she and Mal make up elaborate stories for the antique clocks in the shop (“Yes, the Maharaja of Kapurthala was the last known owner of this clock. It is said to be the key piece to finding the lost royal treasure.”) to fib customers all the time together.
She likes working at the clock shop because it’s easy and the Cobbs are fun and they pay her so much more than the work she does is worth.
Of course, this doesn’t mean that her job is interesting or even remotely challenging. How can it be? She sells antique clocks.
Or well, that was sort of what she thought until one day, about three weeks ago, Mr. Trent waltzes into the shop.
He is…different. She can’t really explain how, but he is. Maybe it’s how he wears a suit all the time -she’s wondered if he wears them to sleep before, not that she wonders about him all the time, of course- or maybe it’s the way he dimples slightly when he smiles or maybe it’s the fact that he seems to be clueless about clocks but still comes in everyday and tries to pass himself off as a connoisseur of clocks by sprouting all sorts of facts.
She is at least 33.3% percent sure that he is interested in her -because, well, she isn’t the only one in the shop and God, Mal and Dom are both oh so attractive and it is already only because of the fact that they are married to each other that Ariadne considers that the three of them have equal chances at Mr. Trent, not that she has been thinking about it an awful lot, of course-. She is, after all, generally the one watching the shop when he comes by. Of course, she can’t ask him out because what if it turns out that he’s into Mal (or Dom) instead? That would be highly humiliating.
Ariadne doesn’t do humiliating situations.
---
Ariadne generally likes it when her weekends are free but Saturday morning finds her sitting in the café opposite the clock shop, waiting to see if Mr. Trent would appear.
She sits through an éclair, a beignet, a croissant and two macarons telling herself that she is only there because she wanted breakfast. She sits through three cups of café au lait, worrying that she is starting to develop stalker-tendencies.
Mr. Trent doesn’t show up.
Ariadne supposes that she must have not been spying on the clock shop as stealthily as she thought when Mal opens the window and hollers, “He doesn’t come in on Saturdays!”
Ariadne should be completely concerned over the fact that she isn’t being subtle about her attraction, but she isn’t. Instead, she wonders if the reason Mr. Trent doesn’t go to the shop on Saturdays is because she doesn’t work on Saturdays.
She doesn’t realize that she is grinning like an idiot until Dom and Mal are both screaming her name to get her attention.
---
Monday sees Ariadne’s head snapping up every time the doorbell jingles.
Mr. Trent doesn’t come in at all.
Ariadne is not amused.
Ariadne is also absolutely frazzled.
“He could be dead,” she mutters to herself, “in a ditch. He could have been there for days. Or he could have been kidnapped. He could be in the middle of a torture session right now.” Her heart skips a beat even though she knows she’s being ridiculous.
“Arthur’s not dead,” Mal tells her matter-of-factly.
Ariadne’s eyes bulge. “You call him Arthur?” she squeaks.
Mal laughs. “Yes. And he’s not dead.”
Ariadne has to bit her tongue to keep herself from screaming “THEN WHY HASN’T HE BEEN COMING INTO THE CLOCK SHOP?” but knows that she isn’t hiding her thoughts well because Mal just smirks.
“He’s working.”
“Working,” Ariadne echoes and it dawns on her that she has no idea what Mr. Trent does for a living.
And Mal seems to.
“Are you sleeping with Mr. Trent?” she blurts out before slapping both hands on her mouth, horrified. “Oh my God, don’t fire me. I love my job.”
Mal cackles.
“I’m sorry!” Ariadne murmurs. “I didn’t mean to-”
“It’s alright, Ariadne,” Mal says with a soft smile, “I understand. Also, I am not sleeping with Arthur.” She snorts a laugh. “The mental image is horrific.”
Ariadne doesn’t really think it is. She wisely keeps her mouth shut this time, though.
“He’ll be back sometime tomorrow,” Mal continues, “Trust me. I should know.”
And what Ariadne should ask is why Mal knows things about Mr. Trent that she shouldn’t know but what she thinks of instead is if Mr. Trent would wear his Tuesday Teal Tie tomorrow.
---
The doorbell jingles.
“Hello, Ariadne,” Arthur murmurs.
Ariadne ignores him steadily.
“Ariadne?” Arthur calls slightly louder as he comes to stand right before her.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Trent?” Ariadne asks sulkily. “The new stock just came in this morning; they were a little late. I haven’t had the time to put them up for display yet, so yeah, come back tomorrow or something. Unless you want to rummage through the store room yourself, which I’m pretty sure Mal and Dom wouldn’t mind.”
He frowns slightly at her tone. “Did I do something wrong?”
Ariadne doesn’t look at Arthur, just continues wiping the counter down. “No.”
“Did I forget to pay for something?”
“No.”
“Did you miss me?”
“Wha-? NO!” Ariadne turns to scowl at Arthur. “I didn’t even realize you were gone.”
Arthur’s smile tipped up in a slight smile. “Ah, so this is what it’s about. You missed me.”
Ariadne’s scowl turns into a full-blown glare but Arthur isn’t looking at her any more. “I did not miss you.”
Arthur dimples. “Mm hmm, if you say so,” he replies simply.
“New stock,” Ariadne grits out, fighting the blush that was threatening to creep up her face, “in the back room.”
Arthur waves her off. “Not interested. I’d like to know more about what you thought happened to me. Mal told me some things, but I’d really prefer to hear them from you.”
Ariadne glares at him even as she feels her cheeks heat up. “If you’re not making a purchase, you can feel free to go. I am busy.”
Arthur ignores her steadily. “I’m not sleeping with Mal.”
Ariadne flushes. “You’re awfully chatty today,” she says calmly anyway. “I think I prefer you when you talked less.”
Arthur grins. “I don’t actually come for the clocks,” he tells her casually, “Not entirely, at least. You knew that, right?”
Ariadne raises an eyebrow. “I don’t care why you come in as long as you end up spending money purchasing antique clocks, Mr. Trent.”
“You really should stop calling me Mr. Trent,” Arthur says thoughtfully, “My surname isn’t even Trent.”
“It’s not?” Ariadne asks, startled.
Arthur nods. “My name is Arthur Moss, I infiltrate people’s dreams and I steal their secrets.”
Ariadne gives him a look. “Oh yeah, I definitely believe you.”
Arthur laughs. “Let’s try this again. My name is Arthur Moss,” he begins, “I would like to ask you out on a date.”
“I would say yes,” Ariadne says lazily even though her heartbeat speeds up and she is almost positive that there’s a maniacal smile trying to claw its way up her face, “but what if it turns out to be the most horrid date of your life and you refuse to come in for months? Then what would I do to get my sales back up on the charts again?”
“I’ll make you a deal, Ariadne,” Arthur replies silkily. “You grab dinner with me tonight and if it turns out to be a horrid decision, I will buy all the new clocks that just came in from China, every single piece. If it turns out to be great, you owe me a second date.”
Ariadne stops trying to suppress her grin. “Shake on it?”
Arthur’s smile turns wicked.
“I prefer to seal my deals with a kiss,” he says as he leans in to catch her lips with his own.
Behind them, the cuckoo clock from India starts chiming and all Ariadne can think of is, ‘Perfect.’
Title: my love for you goes tick tock, tick tock
Author: sarahyyy
Rating: PG-13
Character/Pairing: Arthur/Ariadne
Word Count: 2000+
Summary: Ariadne works at an antique clock shop. Arthur is her regular. Also, she might be developing stalker tendencies. It's a problem, really.
Disclaimer: I do not, in any way, own anything.
A/N: This is supposed to be written for happyfew as her birthday drabble. Her prompt was 'clocks'. I AM SO SORRY IT'S SO, SO LATE. >.< I swear I thought I posted it. First Arthur/Ariadne in ever, so please be kind? XD
The doorbell jingles and Ariadne looks up.
“Back so soon, Mr. Trent?” she asks, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips. It is fast becoming a tradition, Mr. Trent coming every evening to browse through the extensive collection of antique clocks in the shop.
“Arthur,” he murmurs with a slight frown.
She shakes her head. “Mr. Trent,” she insists.
He sighs at that. “Is there anything new?”
“Since yesterday?” she asks and quirks a smile, “No, I don’t suppose so. But there will be new stocks coming in from China this weekend, though. It’s a huge shipment, there might be delays. If I were you, I’d not expect them until next week.” Thoughtfully, she adds, “I thought I told you that yesterday?”
He flushes, just lightly. “I guess I forgot.”
She props her elbows up on the counter. “Rough day at work?”
He frowns. “Not really, to be honest,” he says thoughtfully, “But I’ve been feeling so tired the whole day. I keep waking up at strange hours. It’s pretty odd, actually.”
“Insomnia?” she asks.
He shakes his head. “I don’t think so. I keep hearing clocks ticking in my sleep but when I wake up, it’s stupidly silent.”
Ariadne laughs. “You do have an awful lot of clocks at your house,” she reasons.
He blushes. “I like clocks.”
“Mm hmm,” she murmurs patronizingly, “I’m sure you do.”
His flush deepens and his eyes dart to his watch. “I do,” he insists, then, “I’ll come back some other time then; next week, maybe, for the new clocks from China.”
Ariadne laughs. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mr. Trent.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she sees him grit his teeth slightly and sees his hand freeze on the door knob and wishes, just briefly that he won’t leave so soon. She will never admit it, not even at gunpoint, but Mr. Trent’s daily visit to the antique clock shop is the only part of her job that is actually interesting.
But then the doorbell jingles again and Mr. Trent is out of the door.
Ariadne wonders for the rest of the day why he was so tensed before he left the shop, wonders if she said something wrong and wonders what colour his tie would be tomorrow.
---
Mr. Trent doesn’t come in the next day.
‘He’s trying to prove a point,’ Ariadne thinks to herself.
She is smiling to herself as she closes the shop for the day, wondering if he wore what she has dubbed as his Tuesday Teal Tie today.
‘Tomorrow,’ she thinks, ‘He’ll be back tomorrow.’
Because he is Mr. Trent and the last time he missed coming into the shop for a day, he spent twice the amount of time he usually does there the next day.
---
Only he doesn’t come in the next day.
--
Or the next and Ariadne is getting awfully antsy because Mr. Trent -Arthur- is a man of routines and he doesn’t just quit a routine in the middle of it.
He can’t, not even to prove a point because that would be stupid and immature.
--
By the Friday, Ariadne is suitably impressed.
If Mr. Trent is trying to prove a point, if he is trying to prove that he can totally quit coming into the shop until next week, he is doing a brilliant job out of it.
But it doesn’t mean that she is happy about it.
Maybe she will ignore him when he comes in the next time.
Maybe she will call in sick on Monday.
An eye for an eye and all.
---
Ariadne likes her employers.
Dom and Mal are extremely nice to her and they understand that she is only working part time in the shop because she has to pay for university. Dom lets her ramble about architecture during lunch sometimes (read: every day) and offers some really good insight once in a while; she and Mal make up elaborate stories for the antique clocks in the shop (“Yes, the Maharaja of Kapurthala was the last known owner of this clock. It is said to be the key piece to finding the lost royal treasure.”) to fib customers all the time together.
She likes working at the clock shop because it’s easy and the Cobbs are fun and they pay her so much more than the work she does is worth.
Of course, this doesn’t mean that her job is interesting or even remotely challenging. How can it be? She sells antique clocks.
Or well, that was sort of what she thought until one day, about three weeks ago, Mr. Trent waltzes into the shop.
He is…different. She can’t really explain how, but he is. Maybe it’s how he wears a suit all the time -she’s wondered if he wears them to sleep before, not that she wonders about him all the time, of course- or maybe it’s the way he dimples slightly when he smiles or maybe it’s the fact that he seems to be clueless about clocks but still comes in everyday and tries to pass himself off as a connoisseur of clocks by sprouting all sorts of facts.
She is at least 33.3% percent sure that he is interested in her -because, well, she isn’t the only one in the shop and God, Mal and Dom are both oh so attractive and it is already only because of the fact that they are married to each other that Ariadne considers that the three of them have equal chances at Mr. Trent, not that she has been thinking about it an awful lot, of course-. She is, after all, generally the one watching the shop when he comes by. Of course, she can’t ask him out because what if it turns out that he’s into Mal (or Dom) instead? That would be highly humiliating.
Ariadne doesn’t do humiliating situations.
---
Ariadne generally likes it when her weekends are free but Saturday morning finds her sitting in the café opposite the clock shop, waiting to see if Mr. Trent would appear.
She sits through an éclair, a beignet, a croissant and two macarons telling herself that she is only there because she wanted breakfast. She sits through three cups of café au lait, worrying that she is starting to develop stalker-tendencies.
Mr. Trent doesn’t show up.
Ariadne supposes that she must have not been spying on the clock shop as stealthily as she thought when Mal opens the window and hollers, “He doesn’t come in on Saturdays!”
Ariadne should be completely concerned over the fact that she isn’t being subtle about her attraction, but she isn’t. Instead, she wonders if the reason Mr. Trent doesn’t go to the shop on Saturdays is because she doesn’t work on Saturdays.
She doesn’t realize that she is grinning like an idiot until Dom and Mal are both screaming her name to get her attention.
---
Monday sees Ariadne’s head snapping up every time the doorbell jingles.
Mr. Trent doesn’t come in at all.
Ariadne is not amused.
Ariadne is also absolutely frazzled.
“He could be dead,” she mutters to herself, “in a ditch. He could have been there for days. Or he could have been kidnapped. He could be in the middle of a torture session right now.” Her heart skips a beat even though she knows she’s being ridiculous.
“Arthur’s not dead,” Mal tells her matter-of-factly.
Ariadne’s eyes bulge. “You call him Arthur?” she squeaks.
Mal laughs. “Yes. And he’s not dead.”
Ariadne has to bit her tongue to keep herself from screaming “THEN WHY HASN’T HE BEEN COMING INTO THE CLOCK SHOP?” but knows that she isn’t hiding her thoughts well because Mal just smirks.
“He’s working.”
“Working,” Ariadne echoes and it dawns on her that she has no idea what Mr. Trent does for a living.
And Mal seems to.
“Are you sleeping with Mr. Trent?” she blurts out before slapping both hands on her mouth, horrified. “Oh my God, don’t fire me. I love my job.”
Mal cackles.
“I’m sorry!” Ariadne murmurs. “I didn’t mean to-”
“It’s alright, Ariadne,” Mal says with a soft smile, “I understand. Also, I am not sleeping with Arthur.” She snorts a laugh. “The mental image is horrific.”
Ariadne doesn’t really think it is. She wisely keeps her mouth shut this time, though.
“He’ll be back sometime tomorrow,” Mal continues, “Trust me. I should know.”
And what Ariadne should ask is why Mal knows things about Mr. Trent that she shouldn’t know but what she thinks of instead is if Mr. Trent would wear his Tuesday Teal Tie tomorrow.
---
The doorbell jingles.
“Hello, Ariadne,” Arthur murmurs.
Ariadne ignores him steadily.
“Ariadne?” Arthur calls slightly louder as he comes to stand right before her.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Trent?” Ariadne asks sulkily. “The new stock just came in this morning; they were a little late. I haven’t had the time to put them up for display yet, so yeah, come back tomorrow or something. Unless you want to rummage through the store room yourself, which I’m pretty sure Mal and Dom wouldn’t mind.”
He frowns slightly at her tone. “Did I do something wrong?”
Ariadne doesn’t look at Arthur, just continues wiping the counter down. “No.”
“Did I forget to pay for something?”
“No.”
“Did you miss me?”
“Wha-? NO!” Ariadne turns to scowl at Arthur. “I didn’t even realize you were gone.”
Arthur’s smile tipped up in a slight smile. “Ah, so this is what it’s about. You missed me.”
Ariadne’s scowl turns into a full-blown glare but Arthur isn’t looking at her any more. “I did not miss you.”
Arthur dimples. “Mm hmm, if you say so,” he replies simply.
“New stock,” Ariadne grits out, fighting the blush that was threatening to creep up her face, “in the back room.”
Arthur waves her off. “Not interested. I’d like to know more about what you thought happened to me. Mal told me some things, but I’d really prefer to hear them from you.”
Ariadne glares at him even as she feels her cheeks heat up. “If you’re not making a purchase, you can feel free to go. I am busy.”
Arthur ignores her steadily. “I’m not sleeping with Mal.”
Ariadne flushes. “You’re awfully chatty today,” she says calmly anyway. “I think I prefer you when you talked less.”
Arthur grins. “I don’t actually come for the clocks,” he tells her casually, “Not entirely, at least. You knew that, right?”
Ariadne raises an eyebrow. “I don’t care why you come in as long as you end up spending money purchasing antique clocks, Mr. Trent.”
“You really should stop calling me Mr. Trent,” Arthur says thoughtfully, “My surname isn’t even Trent.”
“It’s not?” Ariadne asks, startled.
Arthur nods. “My name is Arthur Moss, I infiltrate people’s dreams and I steal their secrets.”
Ariadne gives him a look. “Oh yeah, I definitely believe you.”
Arthur laughs. “Let’s try this again. My name is Arthur Moss,” he begins, “I would like to ask you out on a date.”
“I would say yes,” Ariadne says lazily even though her heartbeat speeds up and she is almost positive that there’s a maniacal smile trying to claw its way up her face, “but what if it turns out to be the most horrid date of your life and you refuse to come in for months? Then what would I do to get my sales back up on the charts again?”
“I’ll make you a deal, Ariadne,” Arthur replies silkily. “You grab dinner with me tonight and if it turns out to be a horrid decision, I will buy all the new clocks that just came in from China, every single piece. If it turns out to be great, you owe me a second date.”
Ariadne stops trying to suppress her grin. “Shake on it?”
Arthur’s smile turns wicked.
“I prefer to seal my deals with a kiss,” he says as he leans in to catch her lips with his own.
Behind them, the cuckoo clock from India starts chiming and all Ariadne can think of is, ‘Perfect.’