goodbye gray skies, hello blue
it's been a while since i've posted anything fic related (or otherwise, really, sorry flist for being so boring latey :\) but I saw the most adorable art that just begged for fic. thank theholysea for being an amazing artist for this one. no, seriously. go tell her how awesome her art is. fic can wait.
Title: Nothing Can Hold Me When I Hold You
Fandom: Inception
Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Rating: G
Wordcount: 1,239
Summary: "A letterman's jacket? Who the hell do you think you are, Danny Zuko?"
Notes: So, like I said, I've been quiet lately and this picture, prompted from the kink meme, was just what I needed to spur me back into writing. Maybe now I can finish that Yiddish thing.
Disclaimer: These aren't the droids you're looking for. I don't own any rights to any of these characters, including Sirk, who I lifted right out of Angel S5. Anyone else remember that guy, who sent Angel and Spike after the fake 'cup'? No? Anyhow, he's not mine either. Just playing with them for fun and absolutely no profit.
Notes II: Can I squeeze in one more link to the art without being obnoxious?
"Thank God." Arthur hung up the pay phone and turned to face Sirk. "It's done. We've got a good half hour left before the clock runs-- hey, cut it out!" He jumped when a pair of amorous fingers pinched his ass. "This is getting ridiculous."
Arthur glared at Lowe's projection. It was the fifth time in the past hour that one of the man's projections had done something of the sort. It started with the hotel receptionist putting her hand on his arm, which had been simple enough, but then she rubbed her fingers over the inside of his wrist in a gesture that couldn't have been mistaken.
Another projection had bumped into him and felt up his chest as she tried to straighten herself out. A mother standing behind her child's lemonade stand had offered him a glass, free of charge, why don't you come inside for just a second? and so on and so forth.
The owner of the grabby hand just smiled slyly at him and winked. Then she skipped back to a red Chevy that housed a gaggle of girls in poodle skirts with ridiculous hair.
They all fluttered their fingers in Arthur's direction and burst into giggles when Sirk clutched at his heart and staggered backwards, looking ridiculous in his plaid button down and matching awful glasses.
"Arthur, man, I'm telling you," he began, looking around. "I've never been so happy to be inside an old man's head before."
"You're disgusting." Arthur turned his back on the projections and scanned the street. Any minute now and Dom would be strolling up with their bounty and they could finally get out of this, this perverted episode of Happy Days that they landed in.
"That Jeremiah Lowe must've been one randy greaser," Sirk said, glancing around them. He nudged Arthur's arm with his elbow and nodded at the other side of the drive in. "Check it out, man!"
Arthur looked. And then wished he hadn't when he caught an eyefull of an older man in a black leather jacket copping a feel off of a waitress in roller skates.
"Ugh," was all he could really say to that. Sirk smirked, endlessly amused.
A duo of teenage girls, both with bouncing pony tails and saddle shoes, walked past them quickly, giggling when they glanced up at Arthur. He smiled at them weakly and they tittered as they walked up to one of the open windows.
"Seems our dear friend Mr. Lowe has taken quite a fancy to our Arthur then, hasn't he?" A voice piped up from behind them and Arthur groaned inwardly when he recognized the accented drawl. "I'm not quite sure what to say to that."
"This is just sick." Arthur eyed a waitress as she skated by rather close to them. She blew a bubble as she passed, turning to skate backwards a couple of feet so she could wink at Arthur. "Maybe the sweater was a mistake."
"It's not the sweater," Eames said, sliding forward. He rested his elbow casually near Arthur's head, leaning in to tug at the garment playfully. "You've got a certain je ne sais quoi about you that leaves every female around you breathless."
Sirk snorted next to them. Arthur rolled his eyes but Eames just smiled back.
"No, seriously." Eames turned to Sirk. "You should've seen the last job we pulled together. There was this adorable little bit of stuff that was just panting after Arthur like a puppy. It was cute."
"She was not." Arthur sniffed and eyed the hotel down off of Main Street. That looked like Dom, in -- Arthur shook his head -- a black leather jacket over a white tee. Jesus, he even rolled his jeans up and slicked back his hair.
"Was too." Eames kneed Arthur's leg affectionately. "You shouldn't have kissed her, love. That was mean of you."
"Was it the 'quick, the projections are looking at us!' thing?" Sirk asked. Arthur definitely didn't nod, but Sirk laughed at the way Eames was smiling. "You little manwhore, you did that to me in Brussels!"
"And me in Miami. Playful, isn't he?" Arthur looked over at Eames, who was grinning wildly. He turned around quickly when he noticed the sudden predatory glint in his eye.
There was another projection standing close by, one Arthur recognized from the red car.
"May we help you?" Arthur asked politely. She laughed, nervously, and stuck her hand out. In it was a sheet of loose leaf paper and, for a moment, Arthur wanted to brain himself with a hammer. It was like he was back in junior high.
He took it gingerly, nodding his thanks to the girl. She looked down, then up at Arthur, then down again when she realized he was still watching her.
"Thank you." Arthur watched as she bolted back to the car and elbowed Sirk hard when he began to laugh.
"I don't know what it is about you, man, but share some of it with me!"
Arthur rolled his eyes and unfolded the sheet of paper in his hands.
Sadie Hawkins is next Friday. Come with me?
XX
Mindy
Arthur grimaced down at the note. Jesus. This was ridiculous.
"This is ridiculous." This time it was Eames who said it. He snatched the sheet of paper out of Arthur's hands and ripped it in half. A gasp could be heard from the direction of the Chevy and Arthur could've punched him, the idiot. That's all they needed, projections of poodle skirt wearing teens and leather clad greasers chasing them down the street.
Eames pulled off the jacket he was wearing and Arthur realized it was a goddamn letterman's jacket, like Eames was some kind of jock and the whole idea of Eames being the resident clean cut American football hero made him want to laugh hysterically.
Then Eames draped it over Arthur's shoulders and took another step closer to him, so the whole front of his body was touching Arthur's side and Sirk laughed.
"Eames." Arthur tried his 'no nonsense' voice, even though it rarely had any effect on Eames.
"Just to hold em off, darling." Eames crowded Arthur a little more and Arthur tried to keep the blush at bay.
"Eames." He tried again. He even narrowed his eyes. Eames just smiled at him, looking up from under his lashes.
"Guys?"
"You want to keep getting hit on by an old man's subconscious?" Eames bit his lower lip. He reached up and trailed a finger down Arthur's forearm. Arthur jerked it back and stuffed his hands in his pockets so he didn't use them to suddenly snap Eames' neck.
"You guys?"
"Really?" Arthur was tempted to shrug his shoulders and let the yellow and red monstrosity fall to the ground. When he looked, the girls in the car looked crushed but not murderous. "A letterman's jacket? Who the hell do you think you are, Danny Zuko?"
"Um. Guys?"
"Does that make you Sandy?"
"Hey, lovebirds!" Sirk said loudly. The girls went from looking devasted right back to giggling in point oh three seconds. "Dom's waving us over."
Eames tugged one of Arthur's hands out of his pocket and laced their fingers together. "Let's go see what he wants, then." He pulled gently and didn't smirk once in his direction when Arthur followed him.
He did, however, throw a triumphant grin over his shoulder in the direction of the Chevy.
Title: Nothing Can Hold Me When I Hold You
Fandom: Inception
Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Rating: G
Wordcount: 1,239
Summary: "A letterman's jacket? Who the hell do you think you are, Danny Zuko?"
Notes: So, like I said, I've been quiet lately and this picture, prompted from the kink meme, was just what I needed to spur me back into writing. Maybe now I can finish that Yiddish thing.
Disclaimer: These aren't the droids you're looking for. I don't own any rights to any of these characters, including Sirk, who I lifted right out of Angel S5. Anyone else remember that guy, who sent Angel and Spike after the fake 'cup'? No? Anyhow, he's not mine either. Just playing with them for fun and absolutely no profit.
Notes II: Can I squeeze in one more link to the art without being obnoxious?
"Thank God." Arthur hung up the pay phone and turned to face Sirk. "It's done. We've got a good half hour left before the clock runs-- hey, cut it out!" He jumped when a pair of amorous fingers pinched his ass. "This is getting ridiculous."
Arthur glared at Lowe's projection. It was the fifth time in the past hour that one of the man's projections had done something of the sort. It started with the hotel receptionist putting her hand on his arm, which had been simple enough, but then she rubbed her fingers over the inside of his wrist in a gesture that couldn't have been mistaken.
Another projection had bumped into him and felt up his chest as she tried to straighten herself out. A mother standing behind her child's lemonade stand had offered him a glass, free of charge, why don't you come inside for just a second? and so on and so forth.
The owner of the grabby hand just smiled slyly at him and winked. Then she skipped back to a red Chevy that housed a gaggle of girls in poodle skirts with ridiculous hair.
They all fluttered their fingers in Arthur's direction and burst into giggles when Sirk clutched at his heart and staggered backwards, looking ridiculous in his plaid button down and matching awful glasses.
"Arthur, man, I'm telling you," he began, looking around. "I've never been so happy to be inside an old man's head before."
"You're disgusting." Arthur turned his back on the projections and scanned the street. Any minute now and Dom would be strolling up with their bounty and they could finally get out of this, this perverted episode of Happy Days that they landed in.
"That Jeremiah Lowe must've been one randy greaser," Sirk said, glancing around them. He nudged Arthur's arm with his elbow and nodded at the other side of the drive in. "Check it out, man!"
Arthur looked. And then wished he hadn't when he caught an eyefull of an older man in a black leather jacket copping a feel off of a waitress in roller skates.
"Ugh," was all he could really say to that. Sirk smirked, endlessly amused.
A duo of teenage girls, both with bouncing pony tails and saddle shoes, walked past them quickly, giggling when they glanced up at Arthur. He smiled at them weakly and they tittered as they walked up to one of the open windows.
"Seems our dear friend Mr. Lowe has taken quite a fancy to our Arthur then, hasn't he?" A voice piped up from behind them and Arthur groaned inwardly when he recognized the accented drawl. "I'm not quite sure what to say to that."
"This is just sick." Arthur eyed a waitress as she skated by rather close to them. She blew a bubble as she passed, turning to skate backwards a couple of feet so she could wink at Arthur. "Maybe the sweater was a mistake."
"It's not the sweater," Eames said, sliding forward. He rested his elbow casually near Arthur's head, leaning in to tug at the garment playfully. "You've got a certain je ne sais quoi about you that leaves every female around you breathless."
Sirk snorted next to them. Arthur rolled his eyes but Eames just smiled back.
"No, seriously." Eames turned to Sirk. "You should've seen the last job we pulled together. There was this adorable little bit of stuff that was just panting after Arthur like a puppy. It was cute."
"She was not." Arthur sniffed and eyed the hotel down off of Main Street. That looked like Dom, in -- Arthur shook his head -- a black leather jacket over a white tee. Jesus, he even rolled his jeans up and slicked back his hair.
"Was too." Eames kneed Arthur's leg affectionately. "You shouldn't have kissed her, love. That was mean of you."
"Was it the 'quick, the projections are looking at us!' thing?" Sirk asked. Arthur definitely didn't nod, but Sirk laughed at the way Eames was smiling. "You little manwhore, you did that to me in Brussels!"
"And me in Miami. Playful, isn't he?" Arthur looked over at Eames, who was grinning wildly. He turned around quickly when he noticed the sudden predatory glint in his eye.
There was another projection standing close by, one Arthur recognized from the red car.
"May we help you?" Arthur asked politely. She laughed, nervously, and stuck her hand out. In it was a sheet of loose leaf paper and, for a moment, Arthur wanted to brain himself with a hammer. It was like he was back in junior high.
He took it gingerly, nodding his thanks to the girl. She looked down, then up at Arthur, then down again when she realized he was still watching her.
"Thank you." Arthur watched as she bolted back to the car and elbowed Sirk hard when he began to laugh.
"I don't know what it is about you, man, but share some of it with me!"
Arthur rolled his eyes and unfolded the sheet of paper in his hands.
Sadie Hawkins is next Friday. Come with me?
XX
Mindy
Arthur grimaced down at the note. Jesus. This was ridiculous.
"This is ridiculous." This time it was Eames who said it. He snatched the sheet of paper out of Arthur's hands and ripped it in half. A gasp could be heard from the direction of the Chevy and Arthur could've punched him, the idiot. That's all they needed, projections of poodle skirt wearing teens and leather clad greasers chasing them down the street.
Eames pulled off the jacket he was wearing and Arthur realized it was a goddamn letterman's jacket, like Eames was some kind of jock and the whole idea of Eames being the resident clean cut American football hero made him want to laugh hysterically.
Then Eames draped it over Arthur's shoulders and took another step closer to him, so the whole front of his body was touching Arthur's side and Sirk laughed.
"Eames." Arthur tried his 'no nonsense' voice, even though it rarely had any effect on Eames.
"Just to hold em off, darling." Eames crowded Arthur a little more and Arthur tried to keep the blush at bay.
"Eames." He tried again. He even narrowed his eyes. Eames just smiled at him, looking up from under his lashes.
"Guys?"
"You want to keep getting hit on by an old man's subconscious?" Eames bit his lower lip. He reached up and trailed a finger down Arthur's forearm. Arthur jerked it back and stuffed his hands in his pockets so he didn't use them to suddenly snap Eames' neck.
"You guys?"
"Really?" Arthur was tempted to shrug his shoulders and let the yellow and red monstrosity fall to the ground. When he looked, the girls in the car looked crushed but not murderous. "A letterman's jacket? Who the hell do you think you are, Danny Zuko?"
"Um. Guys?"
"Does that make you Sandy?"
"Hey, lovebirds!" Sirk said loudly. The girls went from looking devasted right back to giggling in point oh three seconds. "Dom's waving us over."
Eames tugged one of Arthur's hands out of his pocket and laced their fingers together. "Let's go see what he wants, then." He pulled gently and didn't smirk once in his direction when Arthur followed him.
He did, however, throw a triumphant grin over his shoulder in the direction of the Chevy.