why do i keep doing this?
I've got other things to work on. Yiddish family fic. Broke straight boys (yup, you read that right). Inception of the Spotless Mind. So WHY AM I TROLLING THE KINK MEME FOR PROMPTS, OW. I made my own head hurt.
Title: Like Father, Like Son
Fandom: Inception
Pairing: OC/OC, Arthur/Eames undertones
Wordcount: 861
Rating: R
Summary: "I don't think we need to worry too much," Andrew says, placing his hand over the tattoo on Simon's shoulder. "It sounds like history is already repeating itself."
Notes: Written for this kink meme prompt, which asked for history repeating itself in the form of Arthur and Eames' fathers hating/loving each other. What am I on.
Disclaimer: I own Inception and this is actually the real ending of the stor-- oh, who am I kidding. This is wildly untrue.
The country twang of Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young rings through the air and almost goes unnoticed. A man sighs into another man's mouth and removes a pair of amorous hands from his waist.
"Mmm, wait."
"Bloody hell, Andrew, seriously?"
"Just a minute, Simon, it's my son."
Simon lets out a long suffering sigh and leans back. The water from the jacuzzi sloshes around his shoulders as his head hits the side with a dull 'thunk'. Andrew leans backwards and picks up his cell phone.
"Is this an emergency?"
There's a short beat before a sullen voice says "no" shortly. It's followed by a quick "I just thought, since I'm in town..." and Andrew perks up.
"You're in town?" he asks, sitting up a little. Simon raises an eyebrow, smiling just a tad.
"Just for a few days. Thought you'd like to have dinner."
"That sounds wonderful, Arthur. Why don't you swing by in about two hours?" Andrew sinks down in his seat and lets one of his feet slide up Simon's thigh. When it makes contact where he wants Simon's eyes flutter and he bites down on his plump bottom lip, holding back a grunt. He holds the foot over his cock and rolls his hips against it.
Andrew smirks and raises his other hand, tracing Simon's upper lip softly. Simon keeps his eyes closed even as he sucks Andrew's thumb in. His teeth scrape over the soft pad gently.
"Too late, I just came in through-- what the fuck?!"
This last part is shouted both in his ear and to his face. Andrew is so startled he drops his phone in the water, then yelps when Simon opens his eyes and bites down on his thumb, hard.
"What the fuck?!" Simon echoes. Arthur is standing in the open doorway, his phone loosely clutched in his hand. There's a garment bag resting over one arm and a briefcase peeking out from under it. He looks pale and horrified.
"Oh my God," Arthur whispers, "are you two... fucking? Have you been fucking this whole time?!" His voice borders on hysteria and only goes up in pitch when Simon grabs for their boxer shorts, resting near the power button. Arthur barely moves, just clutches at his chest with the hand holding his phone. "You two hate each other!"
"Hate is such a strong word, darling," Simon says while struggling to slide his shorts on under the water. He has no idea why, but the sentence makes Arthur goggle at him.
"You..." Arthur trails off. "You two... Darling..."
"I'm sorry, Andrew, but I think we might've broken your son." Andrew shoots Simon a 'look' so exasperated and familiar when Simon throws his boxers at his head that Arthur feels faint.
"Arthur," Andrew begins, but Arthur's already turning around and walking back into the house. He sighs, fighting to pull his shorts on. He's just standing up when Arthur, sans bag and briefcase, comes storming back through the door. His finger is up and wagging in their direction before is mouth is even open.
"Is this why mom left? Because you've been screwing Simon this whole time?"
"Now, love--" Simon starts, then he raises his eyebrows when Arthur chokes on air. "Calm down, pet, seriously. Let's just go inside and discuss this over a nice cuppa, eh?"
Arthur stares at them, stony faced, and pulls his phone back out.
"I'm calling Eames," he says, and it sounds almost like an accusation.
Simon's face lights up then. His grin is positively blinding. "You two have kept in touch, then, have you?" He shoots Andrew a completely filthy look. "Like father, like son."
"No, oh my God, a thousand times no," Arthur says, with heat in his voice, dialing and bringing the phone up to his ear. Andrew stares at his son fondly as he walks back into the house, already snapping into his phone.
"Tell me you haven't left already. I've got news."
Simon shakes his head as they get out of the water and wrap their towels around their waists.
"Think we should tell 'em about Boston?"
Andrew leans forward and kisses the tip of Simon's nose and ignores the squawk that comes from the vicinity of his dining room. "No, they'll figure it out in their own time."
Arthur yells something that sounds like "if you ever call me darling again--" or could it be "no more pet names, for the love of sweet baby Jesus-- yes I'm Jewish!" and Andrew sighs. He tilts his head forward and Simon presses his lips against his gently.
"Let's just hope it doesn't take them twenty years to get sorted like we did."
A strangled yell, followed by the sound of breaking china, floats through the open door and Andrew shakes his head again.
"I don't think we need to worry too much," Andrew says, placing his hand over the tattoo on Simon's shoulder. "It sounds like history is already repeating itself."
Arthur yells out a "you motherfucking, cocksucking, shitbagging, cuntlicking--" and Simon laughs and laughs.
Andrew tilts his head to the side and reevaluates. "Only bigger, and with more inventive swears."
Title: Like Father, Like Son
Fandom: Inception
Pairing: OC/OC, Arthur/Eames undertones
Wordcount: 861
Rating: R
Summary: "I don't think we need to worry too much," Andrew says, placing his hand over the tattoo on Simon's shoulder. "It sounds like history is already repeating itself."
Notes: Written for this kink meme prompt, which asked for history repeating itself in the form of Arthur and Eames' fathers hating/loving each other. What am I on.
Disclaimer: I own Inception and this is actually the real ending of the stor-- oh, who am I kidding. This is wildly untrue.
The country twang of Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young rings through the air and almost goes unnoticed. A man sighs into another man's mouth and removes a pair of amorous hands from his waist.
"Mmm, wait."
"Bloody hell, Andrew, seriously?"
"Just a minute, Simon, it's my son."
Simon lets out a long suffering sigh and leans back. The water from the jacuzzi sloshes around his shoulders as his head hits the side with a dull 'thunk'. Andrew leans backwards and picks up his cell phone.
"Is this an emergency?"
There's a short beat before a sullen voice says "no" shortly. It's followed by a quick "I just thought, since I'm in town..." and Andrew perks up.
"You're in town?" he asks, sitting up a little. Simon raises an eyebrow, smiling just a tad.
"Just for a few days. Thought you'd like to have dinner."
"That sounds wonderful, Arthur. Why don't you swing by in about two hours?" Andrew sinks down in his seat and lets one of his feet slide up Simon's thigh. When it makes contact where he wants Simon's eyes flutter and he bites down on his plump bottom lip, holding back a grunt. He holds the foot over his cock and rolls his hips against it.
Andrew smirks and raises his other hand, tracing Simon's upper lip softly. Simon keeps his eyes closed even as he sucks Andrew's thumb in. His teeth scrape over the soft pad gently.
"Too late, I just came in through-- what the fuck?!"
This last part is shouted both in his ear and to his face. Andrew is so startled he drops his phone in the water, then yelps when Simon opens his eyes and bites down on his thumb, hard.
"What the fuck?!" Simon echoes. Arthur is standing in the open doorway, his phone loosely clutched in his hand. There's a garment bag resting over one arm and a briefcase peeking out from under it. He looks pale and horrified.
"Oh my God," Arthur whispers, "are you two... fucking? Have you been fucking this whole time?!" His voice borders on hysteria and only goes up in pitch when Simon grabs for their boxer shorts, resting near the power button. Arthur barely moves, just clutches at his chest with the hand holding his phone. "You two hate each other!"
"Hate is such a strong word, darling," Simon says while struggling to slide his shorts on under the water. He has no idea why, but the sentence makes Arthur goggle at him.
"You..." Arthur trails off. "You two... Darling..."
"I'm sorry, Andrew, but I think we might've broken your son." Andrew shoots Simon a 'look' so exasperated and familiar when Simon throws his boxers at his head that Arthur feels faint.
"Arthur," Andrew begins, but Arthur's already turning around and walking back into the house. He sighs, fighting to pull his shorts on. He's just standing up when Arthur, sans bag and briefcase, comes storming back through the door. His finger is up and wagging in their direction before is mouth is even open.
"Is this why mom left? Because you've been screwing Simon this whole time?"
"Now, love--" Simon starts, then he raises his eyebrows when Arthur chokes on air. "Calm down, pet, seriously. Let's just go inside and discuss this over a nice cuppa, eh?"
Arthur stares at them, stony faced, and pulls his phone back out.
"I'm calling Eames," he says, and it sounds almost like an accusation.
Simon's face lights up then. His grin is positively blinding. "You two have kept in touch, then, have you?" He shoots Andrew a completely filthy look. "Like father, like son."
"No, oh my God, a thousand times no," Arthur says, with heat in his voice, dialing and bringing the phone up to his ear. Andrew stares at his son fondly as he walks back into the house, already snapping into his phone.
"Tell me you haven't left already. I've got news."
Simon shakes his head as they get out of the water and wrap their towels around their waists.
"Think we should tell 'em about Boston?"
Andrew leans forward and kisses the tip of Simon's nose and ignores the squawk that comes from the vicinity of his dining room. "No, they'll figure it out in their own time."
Arthur yells something that sounds like "if you ever call me darling again--" or could it be "no more pet names, for the love of sweet baby Jesus-- yes I'm Jewish!" and Andrew sighs. He tilts his head forward and Simon presses his lips against his gently.
"Let's just hope it doesn't take them twenty years to get sorted like we did."
A strangled yell, followed by the sound of breaking china, floats through the open door and Andrew shakes his head again.
"I don't think we need to worry too much," Andrew says, placing his hand over the tattoo on Simon's shoulder. "It sounds like history is already repeating itself."
Arthur yells out a "you motherfucking, cocksucking, shitbagging, cuntlicking--" and Simon laughs and laughs.
Andrew tilts his head to the side and reevaluates. "Only bigger, and with more inventive swears."