don't stop what you do
Even the Chris that lives inside of my head is laughing at me. I need a vacation from these boys.
Title: You Had One Eye in the Mirror (the other was on me)
Fandom: Inception
Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Wordcount: 2,128
Rating: PG, so very PG
Summary: He never really realized how fluidly Arthur’s hips moved before. Well, maybe not consciously. Well, maybe consciously, but never seriously. Well, maybe once or twice he thought about it seriously, but he never ever imagined Arthur sitting in his lap and drinking whiskey out of his mouth. Well…
Disclaimer: Inception is not mine. It did, however, incept me. Damn you, Nolan.
"Oh my God, is he--?"
"He is. Sweet Jesus on a bicycle, he is."
Ariadne grabs Cobb's arm and digs her fingernails in so hard he's sure she's going to leave bruises.
(She does, in fact, leave four lovely placed welts on his forearm that he notices the next day when he's curled over his toilet, yawning in color.)
The first notes ring out and more than half the bar cheers in recognition. Arthur accepts a shot from a tiny brunette and downs it. He tips his hat at her and raises his mic.
"You walked into the party..." he begins, just as Eames returns from the bathroom.
"What's all this about?" He watches as Arthur twirls on the stage and nearly trips over the microphone stand.
Ariadne is too busy standing on her chair, cheering him on loudly, to answer him. He shoots a look at Cobb, who is holding his head in his hand. “For the record I was against this. I want you to make sure that he remembers that tomorrow.”
Eames blinks at him and turns back to the stage, where Arthur’s waistcoat has somehow become unbuttoned.
"And all the girls dreamed that theeeey'd be your partner!" Arthur shouts, off key. Every woman in the place decides that's a good time to sing along with him and do, loudly. Eames watches with amusement and something that borders incredulity.
Just then, Arthur looks directly at him and rips his fedora off. “Youuuuu’re so vaaaaain!” He whips the hat in Eames’s direction when he hits ‘vaaaaain’ and grins when the brim hits his forehead hard enough to make him wince. “You probably think this song is about you. Oh Eames, you’re so vaaaaaaain!”
Ariadne cracks up and nearly falls off of her chair. Eames shoots Arthur a glare when he points at him and all of the women in the place turn to stare, laughing.
“Don’t you, don’t youuuuuu!”
Eames raises his middle finger, prompting another round of laughter, and Arthur smiles demonically. He pulls the microphone from the stand and jumps off of the bar, sauntering over to their table.
Yusuf lets out a holler and leans forward to tuck a twenty dollar bill down Arthur’s pants when he starts dancing in front of him. Cobb watches through his fingers when Arthur swivels his hips and, holding onto the side of the table, does a move that can only be called the ‘drop it like it’s hot’.
Right in front of Eames, who is watching with thinly veiled sexual frustration.
Ariadne puts two fingers into her mouth and whistles loudly (and right in Eames’ ear, Arthur notices with drunk glee).
He continues. “You said that we made such a pretty pair,” he croons, badly, as he swivels around to stand behind his friend. He drapes his arms over Eames’ shoulders and leans forward. “And that you would never leeeeaaaave!” he belts out, both into the mic and Eames’ other ear.
Eames, who was tilting his head to the side, winces and rubs at his ear dramatically. He opens his mouth to bitch at him when his friend places his hand on the side of his face, then shoves him away hard enough that his chair nearly tips over. With a little help from Ariadne’s clumsy hands (and he vows to teach her someday soon how to really drink) he rights himself and glares at Arthur’s back.
Arthur waltzes into the crowd, grabbing the tiny brunette who had bought him a drink. He holds the mic up to her face and she laughs and sings in a lovely soprano “You probably think this song is about you, you’re so vaaaain!” as she looks over at Eames, her hands winding around Arthur’s neck. “I’ll bet you think this song is about you!”
Eames snorts and grabs Arthur’s fedora, placing it on his head. Arthur grins at him and twirls the brunette away, then saunters to the bar. “Two shots of Jack, please,” he says into the mic during the musical interlude. The bartender grins at him and shakes her head, but she still pulls two shot glasses from under the counter. When she’s finished with them he picks one up and beckons the brunette off of the dance floor, then he tilts his head back and puts the bottom of it in his mouth.
The girl smirks and places her hands on either side of his face. He crouches when she pulls him down and wraps her lips around the top of it. He steadies her with his hands on her hips and stands, her head tilting back, and empties the shot into her mouth.
The crowd cheers and wolf whistles when they pull back, the shot glass in his hand. He grins at the girl and, without turning around, grabs the other shot. He gives her a little nudge with his hips, indicating that her part in this is over, and then winks when she pouts.
“I had some dreams there were cloooouds in my coffee!” Arthur sways back over to their table and sets the second shot down in front of Eames. He foregoes the second chorus when Eames smirks at him and places the bottom of it in his mouth, mimicking Arthur’s actions.
Arthur smirks and straddles his lap, passing the mic to Ariadne over Eames’s shoulder as he leans forward to wrap his lips around the top of the shot glass. Eames’ hands hold his waist as he bends Arthur backwards and slightly to the left, their eyes locked the entire time. When he’s sure the glass is empty he quickly snatches it from Arthur’s slick lips and replaces it with his mouth.
The crowd goes wild when Arthur thrashes in his grip, but Eames doesn’t let go. He wraps his arms around Arthur’s waist and digs his fingers into his back, turned on by the way Arthur’s hips were squirming.
Arthur’s hands come around to push at Eames’ shoulders and he finally lets go, grinning like a shark. Then he reaches behind himself to gesture for the mic from Ariadne.
She giggles and hands it over. “Darling, is this retribution for that night in Rio?” he asks into it. Someone in the crowd hollers something inappropriate back. Eames’s doesn’t let go of the mic, even when Arthur’s hand comes up to cover his and direct it to his mouth.
“You mean that time I woke up in the bathtub in all of my clothes after you borrowed twenty grand and hired us four strippers?” Arthur replies, glaring. He had forgotten all about that until just that moment. “I forgot about that, you philanderer!”
Eames takes off Arthur’s hat and pushes it into his face as he pushes Arthur off of his lap. Arthur gets to his feet, somehow with refined dignity, and places his (slightly smooshed) hat back onto his head. He yanks the mic back out of Eames’s hands and twirls back into the crowd to sing the next chorus.
Ariadne leans forward. “Hey, I didn’t know you two were-” and she stops herself to make some obscene hand gesture. “You know. You know, right? You know.”
“Yes, I know.” Eames raises an eyebrow, wondering just what this young lass gets up to in her spare time. “I think everyone at the pub here gets what you’re saying. And no, we’re not.”
He looks up and watches as a tall, slightly built man, grabs Arthur’s hips from behind and grinds into him. Arthur looks startled for all of point oh five seconds before he grins and leans back into him, one arm coming up to drape over the man’s neck from behind. The other holds the mic up to his face as he continues his God awful warble into it.
Eames squints and tilts his head, thoughtful. “Well, not yet.” He never really realized how fluidly Arthur’s hips moved before. Well, maybe not consciously. Well, maybe consciously, but never seriously.
Well, maybe once or twice he thought about it seriously, but he never ever imagined Arthur sitting in his lap and drinking whiskey out of his mouth.
Well…
“Not ever, please.” Dom mutters into his beer. He covers his mouth to muffle his belch and looks around as everyone at the table stares at him. “The man is like my little brother! Please, Eames, don’t defile my little brother. I don’t want to have to kill you and find another forger.”
“Noted.” Eames holds up his beer and tilts it in Cobb’s direction. When the other man nods, satisfied, and turns away Eames looks at Ariadne and Yusuf and nods in affirmation. Dat ass would be his, damnit.
“That was refreshing.” Arthur says, sitting neatly back into his seat next to Yusuf. The chemist slaps him on the back and leans forward, tugging gently at the unbuttoned waistcoat.
“I was sure you were going to start stripping for a minute there,” he says, grinning wildly. “Or that someone was going to rip your clothes off. Impressive dancing.”
“Yes, thank you.” Arthur sniffs. A thin blonde waitress swings by and places two shot glasses and four other drinks on the table in front of him. Arthur looks up at the woman and raises a brow. “I didn’t order these.”
“After that performance, sugar, you didn’t have to.” She nods at the array of drinks and then waves to the rest of the bar behind her. “All from your adoring crowd.”
Arthur picks up the amber filled glass that looks like scotch and holds it above his head, looking over his shoulder. Someone in the crowd lets out a ‘whoop!’ when he nods.
“Let them adore you all they want,” Eames says as he glares into the crowd. “’S me you’re going home with tonight.”
“I told you in Rio and I’m telling you again now,” Arthur says as he sips daintily from his glass. “I’m not having sex with you again. Once was bad enough.”
Cobb spits his beer out and Ariadne shrieks when a good part of it ends up on her scarf. “This is an Hermes!” She pulls it off and slaps him in the face with it. “You owe me four hundred bucks, jerk!”
“To be fair, love, we were out of our minds at the time.”
“No means no, Eames.”
Eames just smirks and lets his hand rest on Arthur’s knee under the table where it can’t be seen. Arthur glares at him, but Eames knows the flush creeping up his neck has nothing to do with the drink.
Okay, maybe a little, but when Arthur doesn’t push his hand off, when the tip of Arthur’s shoe comes to rest lightly over the top of his own scuffed boot, he just grins and steals one of the shots in front of him. 'No' has never sounded so much like 'yes'.
“You sang that song for me,” he says, grinning madly. Arthur leans forward and lets Eames’ hand slide a little up his leg.
“I did no such thing, Mr. Eames.” Arthur sips his scotch and glances around the bar. A few pairs of eyes still linger on him, but now some other drunk soul is up on the stage belting out Billy Joel and Yusuf and Ariadne are busy stomping their feet and cheering him on. Dom glances at Arthur and Eames, creeping steadily closer to each other, and then resolutely keeps his eyes forward on the stage as he tries to repress a shudder.
“You did,” Eames murmurs, and when Arthur grins into his glass, his foot sliding forward so their ankles are locked together, it feels like affirmation. “Just like you did back in Chicago. It’s your ‘I’m horny and want to fuck’ song. It’s either me or the cheeky little bint over there,” he nods to the dance floor where the cute brunette is shaking her money maker, “and she’s not the one you’re letting fondle you in public.”
“If I agree to go back to your place and have unrestrained, drunk, sloppy sex with you, will you agree to only use the words ‘yes’ ‘Arthur’ and ‘more’ for the duration of the night?”
“I love it when you get demanding,” Eames murmurs, standing to toss a few bills on the table. Ariadne and Yusuf don’t even notice them, too busy singing along to ‘piano man’. Cobb watches in horror when Arthur stands, swaying a teeny tiny little bit, and curls his arm around Eames’ elbow. Arthur notices him watching and blows him a kiss. Dom flees to the bar. Then he realizes just what Eames said and huffs dramatically.
“What did I just say?” Arthur asks Eames impatiently, tugging on his arm.
Eames just smiles and lets himself be dragged.
“Yes, Arthur.”
Title: You Had One Eye in the Mirror (the other was on me)
Fandom: Inception
Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Wordcount: 2,128
Rating: PG, so very PG
Summary: He never really realized how fluidly Arthur’s hips moved before. Well, maybe not consciously. Well, maybe consciously, but never seriously. Well, maybe once or twice he thought about it seriously, but he never ever imagined Arthur sitting in his lap and drinking whiskey out of his mouth. Well…
Disclaimer: Inception is not mine. It did, however, incept me. Damn you, Nolan.
"Oh my God, is he--?"
"He is. Sweet Jesus on a bicycle, he is."
Ariadne grabs Cobb's arm and digs her fingernails in so hard he's sure she's going to leave bruises.
(She does, in fact, leave four lovely placed welts on his forearm that he notices the next day when he's curled over his toilet, yawning in color.)
The first notes ring out and more than half the bar cheers in recognition. Arthur accepts a shot from a tiny brunette and downs it. He tips his hat at her and raises his mic.
"You walked into the party..." he begins, just as Eames returns from the bathroom.
"What's all this about?" He watches as Arthur twirls on the stage and nearly trips over the microphone stand.
Ariadne is too busy standing on her chair, cheering him on loudly, to answer him. He shoots a look at Cobb, who is holding his head in his hand. “For the record I was against this. I want you to make sure that he remembers that tomorrow.”
Eames blinks at him and turns back to the stage, where Arthur’s waistcoat has somehow become unbuttoned.
"And all the girls dreamed that theeeey'd be your partner!" Arthur shouts, off key. Every woman in the place decides that's a good time to sing along with him and do, loudly. Eames watches with amusement and something that borders incredulity.
Just then, Arthur looks directly at him and rips his fedora off. “Youuuuu’re so vaaaaain!” He whips the hat in Eames’s direction when he hits ‘vaaaaain’ and grins when the brim hits his forehead hard enough to make him wince. “You probably think this song is about you. Oh Eames, you’re so vaaaaaaain!”
Ariadne cracks up and nearly falls off of her chair. Eames shoots Arthur a glare when he points at him and all of the women in the place turn to stare, laughing.
“Don’t you, don’t youuuuuu!”
Eames raises his middle finger, prompting another round of laughter, and Arthur smiles demonically. He pulls the microphone from the stand and jumps off of the bar, sauntering over to their table.
Yusuf lets out a holler and leans forward to tuck a twenty dollar bill down Arthur’s pants when he starts dancing in front of him. Cobb watches through his fingers when Arthur swivels his hips and, holding onto the side of the table, does a move that can only be called the ‘drop it like it’s hot’.
Right in front of Eames, who is watching with thinly veiled sexual frustration.
Ariadne puts two fingers into her mouth and whistles loudly (and right in Eames’ ear, Arthur notices with drunk glee).
He continues. “You said that we made such a pretty pair,” he croons, badly, as he swivels around to stand behind his friend. He drapes his arms over Eames’ shoulders and leans forward. “And that you would never leeeeaaaave!” he belts out, both into the mic and Eames’ other ear.
Eames, who was tilting his head to the side, winces and rubs at his ear dramatically. He opens his mouth to bitch at him when his friend places his hand on the side of his face, then shoves him away hard enough that his chair nearly tips over. With a little help from Ariadne’s clumsy hands (and he vows to teach her someday soon how to really drink) he rights himself and glares at Arthur’s back.
Arthur waltzes into the crowd, grabbing the tiny brunette who had bought him a drink. He holds the mic up to her face and she laughs and sings in a lovely soprano “You probably think this song is about you, you’re so vaaaain!” as she looks over at Eames, her hands winding around Arthur’s neck. “I’ll bet you think this song is about you!”
Eames snorts and grabs Arthur’s fedora, placing it on his head. Arthur grins at him and twirls the brunette away, then saunters to the bar. “Two shots of Jack, please,” he says into the mic during the musical interlude. The bartender grins at him and shakes her head, but she still pulls two shot glasses from under the counter. When she’s finished with them he picks one up and beckons the brunette off of the dance floor, then he tilts his head back and puts the bottom of it in his mouth.
The girl smirks and places her hands on either side of his face. He crouches when she pulls him down and wraps her lips around the top of it. He steadies her with his hands on her hips and stands, her head tilting back, and empties the shot into her mouth.
The crowd cheers and wolf whistles when they pull back, the shot glass in his hand. He grins at the girl and, without turning around, grabs the other shot. He gives her a little nudge with his hips, indicating that her part in this is over, and then winks when she pouts.
“I had some dreams there were cloooouds in my coffee!” Arthur sways back over to their table and sets the second shot down in front of Eames. He foregoes the second chorus when Eames smirks at him and places the bottom of it in his mouth, mimicking Arthur’s actions.
Arthur smirks and straddles his lap, passing the mic to Ariadne over Eames’s shoulder as he leans forward to wrap his lips around the top of the shot glass. Eames’ hands hold his waist as he bends Arthur backwards and slightly to the left, their eyes locked the entire time. When he’s sure the glass is empty he quickly snatches it from Arthur’s slick lips and replaces it with his mouth.
The crowd goes wild when Arthur thrashes in his grip, but Eames doesn’t let go. He wraps his arms around Arthur’s waist and digs his fingers into his back, turned on by the way Arthur’s hips were squirming.
Arthur’s hands come around to push at Eames’ shoulders and he finally lets go, grinning like a shark. Then he reaches behind himself to gesture for the mic from Ariadne.
She giggles and hands it over. “Darling, is this retribution for that night in Rio?” he asks into it. Someone in the crowd hollers something inappropriate back. Eames’s doesn’t let go of the mic, even when Arthur’s hand comes up to cover his and direct it to his mouth.
“You mean that time I woke up in the bathtub in all of my clothes after you borrowed twenty grand and hired us four strippers?” Arthur replies, glaring. He had forgotten all about that until just that moment. “I forgot about that, you philanderer!”
Eames takes off Arthur’s hat and pushes it into his face as he pushes Arthur off of his lap. Arthur gets to his feet, somehow with refined dignity, and places his (slightly smooshed) hat back onto his head. He yanks the mic back out of Eames’s hands and twirls back into the crowd to sing the next chorus.
Ariadne leans forward. “Hey, I didn’t know you two were-” and she stops herself to make some obscene hand gesture. “You know. You know, right? You know.”
“Yes, I know.” Eames raises an eyebrow, wondering just what this young lass gets up to in her spare time. “I think everyone at the pub here gets what you’re saying. And no, we’re not.”
He looks up and watches as a tall, slightly built man, grabs Arthur’s hips from behind and grinds into him. Arthur looks startled for all of point oh five seconds before he grins and leans back into him, one arm coming up to drape over the man’s neck from behind. The other holds the mic up to his face as he continues his God awful warble into it.
Eames squints and tilts his head, thoughtful. “Well, not yet.” He never really realized how fluidly Arthur’s hips moved before. Well, maybe not consciously. Well, maybe consciously, but never seriously.
Well, maybe once or twice he thought about it seriously, but he never ever imagined Arthur sitting in his lap and drinking whiskey out of his mouth.
Well…
“Not ever, please.” Dom mutters into his beer. He covers his mouth to muffle his belch and looks around as everyone at the table stares at him. “The man is like my little brother! Please, Eames, don’t defile my little brother. I don’t want to have to kill you and find another forger.”
“Noted.” Eames holds up his beer and tilts it in Cobb’s direction. When the other man nods, satisfied, and turns away Eames looks at Ariadne and Yusuf and nods in affirmation. Dat ass would be his, damnit.
“That was refreshing.” Arthur says, sitting neatly back into his seat next to Yusuf. The chemist slaps him on the back and leans forward, tugging gently at the unbuttoned waistcoat.
“I was sure you were going to start stripping for a minute there,” he says, grinning wildly. “Or that someone was going to rip your clothes off. Impressive dancing.”
“Yes, thank you.” Arthur sniffs. A thin blonde waitress swings by and places two shot glasses and four other drinks on the table in front of him. Arthur looks up at the woman and raises a brow. “I didn’t order these.”
“After that performance, sugar, you didn’t have to.” She nods at the array of drinks and then waves to the rest of the bar behind her. “All from your adoring crowd.”
Arthur picks up the amber filled glass that looks like scotch and holds it above his head, looking over his shoulder. Someone in the crowd lets out a ‘whoop!’ when he nods.
“Let them adore you all they want,” Eames says as he glares into the crowd. “’S me you’re going home with tonight.”
“I told you in Rio and I’m telling you again now,” Arthur says as he sips daintily from his glass. “I’m not having sex with you again. Once was bad enough.”
Cobb spits his beer out and Ariadne shrieks when a good part of it ends up on her scarf. “This is an Hermes!” She pulls it off and slaps him in the face with it. “You owe me four hundred bucks, jerk!”
“To be fair, love, we were out of our minds at the time.”
“No means no, Eames.”
Eames just smirks and lets his hand rest on Arthur’s knee under the table where it can’t be seen. Arthur glares at him, but Eames knows the flush creeping up his neck has nothing to do with the drink.
Okay, maybe a little, but when Arthur doesn’t push his hand off, when the tip of Arthur’s shoe comes to rest lightly over the top of his own scuffed boot, he just grins and steals one of the shots in front of him. 'No' has never sounded so much like 'yes'.
“You sang that song for me,” he says, grinning madly. Arthur leans forward and lets Eames’ hand slide a little up his leg.
“I did no such thing, Mr. Eames.” Arthur sips his scotch and glances around the bar. A few pairs of eyes still linger on him, but now some other drunk soul is up on the stage belting out Billy Joel and Yusuf and Ariadne are busy stomping their feet and cheering him on. Dom glances at Arthur and Eames, creeping steadily closer to each other, and then resolutely keeps his eyes forward on the stage as he tries to repress a shudder.
“You did,” Eames murmurs, and when Arthur grins into his glass, his foot sliding forward so their ankles are locked together, it feels like affirmation. “Just like you did back in Chicago. It’s your ‘I’m horny and want to fuck’ song. It’s either me or the cheeky little bint over there,” he nods to the dance floor where the cute brunette is shaking her money maker, “and she’s not the one you’re letting fondle you in public.”
“If I agree to go back to your place and have unrestrained, drunk, sloppy sex with you, will you agree to only use the words ‘yes’ ‘Arthur’ and ‘more’ for the duration of the night?”
“I love it when you get demanding,” Eames murmurs, standing to toss a few bills on the table. Ariadne and Yusuf don’t even notice them, too busy singing along to ‘piano man’. Cobb watches in horror when Arthur stands, swaying a teeny tiny little bit, and curls his arm around Eames’ elbow. Arthur notices him watching and blows him a kiss. Dom flees to the bar. Then he realizes just what Eames said and huffs dramatically.
“What did I just say?” Arthur asks Eames impatiently, tugging on his arm.
Eames just smiles and lets himself be dragged.
“Yes, Arthur.”