only for you would I suffer this (Arthur/Eames, T)
Title: only for you would I suffer this
Author: aurons_fan
Disclaimer: I may have seen Inception many times, but own it, I do not.
Word Count: 1,412 (I have no idea how it happened)
Rating: PG 13 (if that.)
Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Summary: written for inception_kink , with the prompt " Eames keeps a photo of Arthur in his wallet. Someone finds out."
A/N: First fic in this fandom so I hope I did well! Thank you divinathursday for making this not suck. >>
The long hours at the warehouse leaves the team exhausted, even though most of the time there they’ve been sleeping. Arthur knows that he’s been more snippy then usual, but being used against his will to make sure the kicks will still work has left him on edge. It is probably due to the fact that every time he had woken up in a tangled heap on the floor, Eames would have that same wide grin on his face. If Arthur never sees that grin again, it would be too soon. Luckily, Eames leaves most days to watch Browning, giving Arthur a free Eames-less work day.
However, every day stretches into a never ending problem, one that looks like it will have no solution. Cobb spends more and more time hiding in the backroom, and when anyone goes to look for him, he’s already hooked up and in the dream state. Yusuf and Ariadne are in another part of the warehouse, inspecting their own creations, and it seems every time Arthur flips open a computer to do more research of Robert Fischer Jr., Eames drops into a seat next to him with that damn grin already on his face.
“Has anyone mentioned you work too hard, love?” He asks, leaning a little too close for Arthur's comfort. Arthur scowls, and glances up from the computer, where, egads, he notices Eames suit is a rumpled mess. His tie has been lazily loosed and tossed over his shoulder, the suit jacket is rumpled, and there are suspicious stains on his pants. Stains!
As if knowing what Arthur was thinking, Eames rolls his eyes. “Browning got a little angry this morning and a few arm movements later, his coffee upended onto me. Luckily there wasn’t much left.” Eames drops an arm on Arthur’s leg, squeezes it a bit. Arthur twitches, and shoves Eames off, turning back to the laptop. “You really do work too hard. You need to relax. Maybe even smile. It might loosen your face a bit.”
Arthur slams the laptop shut, “It takes more than imagination and stupid quips to do research, Eames. So let me do my job and go back to doing whatever you do.”
Eames goes quiet. After a moment, he smirks, stands, musses Arthur’s hair, and walks away. As Arthur fumes and frantically tries to rearrange his ruined-beyond-repair hairdo, he could swear he hears Eames mutter, “At least I get to see it everyday.”
--
One night, Arthur’s eyes slowly flit open, and glance over to the lawn chair where Ariadne is slowly waking up as well. He rubs a hand over his eyes. “Great job,” he says, but he stops, realizing that moments after her eyes had opened, signally her being out of the dream, had they slipped shut again in exhaustion.
“Not everyone has the same dedication as you,” Yusuf calls from a few tables away. Arthur unhooks the machine from his arm and gently shakes Ariadne awake. She groans, tumbles off the lawn chair, and staggers her way to the exit, leaving Arthur worried that she wouldn’t make it back safely.
Arthur packs up for the night (almost day, he muses, considering how early it is), when Yusuf gives a shout. “What?” Arthur asks, reaching around for the gun that would be tucked against the small of his back, except this isn’t a dream. So he approaches Yusuf with caution, but the man is grinning gleefully and holding up something that looks suspiciously like a wallet.
“Looks like someone left something today,” Yusuf grins, and Arthur drops his defenses. Oh. Could have been any of them, really. Cobb has been wrapped in his own mind so long, Ariadne left here more asleep than not, and Saito… Well, Saito probably has too much money to actually own a wallet, so Arthur really has no clue.
It doesn’t really matter whose it could be, with Yusuf eagerly opening it and thumbing through the cards. “Oh, Eames,” he says, and Arthur rolls his eyes and turns away. Eames would have been the one to leave a wallet. For that, the bills in it (probably stolen, knowing how much of a thief Eames is) deserve to be taken by Yusuf and his greedy self. “You have your standard ID - interesting picture. I wonder if he meant to look like that - credit cards… and what’s this?”
Arthur shuts the dream briefcase inside the larger case, and prepares to leave. Before he can stand up, Yusuf is above him, peering down at him curiously. “What?” He asks, and if his voice takes on a slightly pissy tone, it’s no fault of his. It’s too late (early) and he really wants to go back to his hotel and crash.
When Yusuf drops a picture onto Arthur’s lap, he rolls his eyes and moves to stand. The light from Yusuf’s workstation suddenly flickers onto the picture, and Arthur’s eyes widen to see a picture of himself.
He doesn’t remember his picture being taken recently (much less for any reason for Eames to have it), but when he inspects it closer, it looks like he’s on one of the lawn chairs, eyes closed and content, happy little smile on his face as he dreams. Of what, he has no idea, but he flushes at the invasion of privacy the picture allows nonetheless and steals a glance up at Yusuf.
“Nice picture,” is all Yusuf says, before handing Arthur the wallet and walking back to his work table. Arthur is still staring at the picture a when Yusuf puts away the chemical compounds and leaves.
Eventually, Arthur realizes that if he were to leave from the warehouse and go to his hotel, he would have to turn around as soon as he got there (or earlier, considering the light filtering in from the windows), so he decides to head to his research table. As his laptop boots up, he stares at the picture and every so often, steals a glance to Eames’ wallet.
“Always see my smile, huh?” He shakes his head with disbelief and turns to face his computer. “Unbelievable.”
--
When Eames drops into a chair adjacent to Arthur the next day, his jacket sleeves rolled up and his tie hanging around his neck, Arthur hands him his wallet without a word. Eames blinks. “I had wondered where this had run off to. Glad someone I could trust had it. Thank you, darling.” He opens the wallet, and after flipping through the cards, starts frantically looking for something.
Arthur gives a small smirk, and holds the picture up, raising an eyebrow. “Yusuf found it,” he says, tapping the picture against the computer monitor. Eames glances up and notices that Arthur is holding the photo. Well, from the corner of Arthur’s eye, it certainly seems like it, considering Eames’ eyes have grown all wide and…and that nervousness Arthur sees? His smirk widens. “I’m just curious though…” Now that Eames’ attention is finally on Arthur, he turns and looks at Eames, grinning. Finally, to have the upper hand in something, where Eames can’t smirk and grin out of it. “When were you going to mention sneaking pictures of me?”
Eames sits back in his chair, rumpling the fabric of the jacket even more than before. But at the moment, Arthur is too focused on Eames’ expression to even care about the condition of the suit. “I wasn’t, to be quite honest,” Eames says slowly, mouth spreading into a smile. Not a smirk, Arthur notes, but it’s close enough that Arthur feels resentment seeping in. “I was never going to tell you about my clever photography skills. But this…”
Eames leans forward, and presses a kiss onto Arthur, who is now torn between hating that damn smirk, and …wait. What did Eames just do?
Before Arthur can even react, Eames moves away from the kiss, and snatches the picture out of Arthur’s now slacked hands. “That? I was hoping to tell you about after the job was done. As to not muddle your precious little mind now. But oh well. Sorry about that, love.”
He stands, straightens his jacket, and leaves without even attempting to ruin Arthur’s hair or make some comment about his wardrobe. But considering Arthur can only watch Eames slip the picture back into his wallet and walk away, he kind of thinks that Eames has messed up his research schedule a lot more than Arthur had thought he possibly could.
Author: aurons_fan
Disclaimer: I may have seen Inception many times, but own it, I do not.
Word Count: 1,412 (I have no idea how it happened)
Rating: PG 13 (if that.)
Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Summary: written for inception_kink , with the prompt " Eames keeps a photo of Arthur in his wallet. Someone finds out."
A/N: First fic in this fandom so I hope I did well! Thank you divinathursday for making this not suck. >>
The long hours at the warehouse leaves the team exhausted, even though most of the time there they’ve been sleeping. Arthur knows that he’s been more snippy then usual, but being used against his will to make sure the kicks will still work has left him on edge. It is probably due to the fact that every time he had woken up in a tangled heap on the floor, Eames would have that same wide grin on his face. If Arthur never sees that grin again, it would be too soon. Luckily, Eames leaves most days to watch Browning, giving Arthur a free Eames-less work day.
However, every day stretches into a never ending problem, one that looks like it will have no solution. Cobb spends more and more time hiding in the backroom, and when anyone goes to look for him, he’s already hooked up and in the dream state. Yusuf and Ariadne are in another part of the warehouse, inspecting their own creations, and it seems every time Arthur flips open a computer to do more research of Robert Fischer Jr., Eames drops into a seat next to him with that damn grin already on his face.
“Has anyone mentioned you work too hard, love?” He asks, leaning a little too close for Arthur's comfort. Arthur scowls, and glances up from the computer, where, egads, he notices Eames suit is a rumpled mess. His tie has been lazily loosed and tossed over his shoulder, the suit jacket is rumpled, and there are suspicious stains on his pants. Stains!
As if knowing what Arthur was thinking, Eames rolls his eyes. “Browning got a little angry this morning and a few arm movements later, his coffee upended onto me. Luckily there wasn’t much left.” Eames drops an arm on Arthur’s leg, squeezes it a bit. Arthur twitches, and shoves Eames off, turning back to the laptop. “You really do work too hard. You need to relax. Maybe even smile. It might loosen your face a bit.”
Arthur slams the laptop shut, “It takes more than imagination and stupid quips to do research, Eames. So let me do my job and go back to doing whatever you do.”
Eames goes quiet. After a moment, he smirks, stands, musses Arthur’s hair, and walks away. As Arthur fumes and frantically tries to rearrange his ruined-beyond-repair hairdo, he could swear he hears Eames mutter, “At least I get to see it everyday.”
--
One night, Arthur’s eyes slowly flit open, and glance over to the lawn chair where Ariadne is slowly waking up as well. He rubs a hand over his eyes. “Great job,” he says, but he stops, realizing that moments after her eyes had opened, signally her being out of the dream, had they slipped shut again in exhaustion.
“Not everyone has the same dedication as you,” Yusuf calls from a few tables away. Arthur unhooks the machine from his arm and gently shakes Ariadne awake. She groans, tumbles off the lawn chair, and staggers her way to the exit, leaving Arthur worried that she wouldn’t make it back safely.
Arthur packs up for the night (almost day, he muses, considering how early it is), when Yusuf gives a shout. “What?” Arthur asks, reaching around for the gun that would be tucked against the small of his back, except this isn’t a dream. So he approaches Yusuf with caution, but the man is grinning gleefully and holding up something that looks suspiciously like a wallet.
“Looks like someone left something today,” Yusuf grins, and Arthur drops his defenses. Oh. Could have been any of them, really. Cobb has been wrapped in his own mind so long, Ariadne left here more asleep than not, and Saito… Well, Saito probably has too much money to actually own a wallet, so Arthur really has no clue.
It doesn’t really matter whose it could be, with Yusuf eagerly opening it and thumbing through the cards. “Oh, Eames,” he says, and Arthur rolls his eyes and turns away. Eames would have been the one to leave a wallet. For that, the bills in it (probably stolen, knowing how much of a thief Eames is) deserve to be taken by Yusuf and his greedy self. “You have your standard ID - interesting picture. I wonder if he meant to look like that - credit cards… and what’s this?”
Arthur shuts the dream briefcase inside the larger case, and prepares to leave. Before he can stand up, Yusuf is above him, peering down at him curiously. “What?” He asks, and if his voice takes on a slightly pissy tone, it’s no fault of his. It’s too late (early) and he really wants to go back to his hotel and crash.
When Yusuf drops a picture onto Arthur’s lap, he rolls his eyes and moves to stand. The light from Yusuf’s workstation suddenly flickers onto the picture, and Arthur’s eyes widen to see a picture of himself.
He doesn’t remember his picture being taken recently (much less for any reason for Eames to have it), but when he inspects it closer, it looks like he’s on one of the lawn chairs, eyes closed and content, happy little smile on his face as he dreams. Of what, he has no idea, but he flushes at the invasion of privacy the picture allows nonetheless and steals a glance up at Yusuf.
“Nice picture,” is all Yusuf says, before handing Arthur the wallet and walking back to his work table. Arthur is still staring at the picture a when Yusuf puts away the chemical compounds and leaves.
Eventually, Arthur realizes that if he were to leave from the warehouse and go to his hotel, he would have to turn around as soon as he got there (or earlier, considering the light filtering in from the windows), so he decides to head to his research table. As his laptop boots up, he stares at the picture and every so often, steals a glance to Eames’ wallet.
“Always see my smile, huh?” He shakes his head with disbelief and turns to face his computer. “Unbelievable.”
--
When Eames drops into a chair adjacent to Arthur the next day, his jacket sleeves rolled up and his tie hanging around his neck, Arthur hands him his wallet without a word. Eames blinks. “I had wondered where this had run off to. Glad someone I could trust had it. Thank you, darling.” He opens the wallet, and after flipping through the cards, starts frantically looking for something.
Arthur gives a small smirk, and holds the picture up, raising an eyebrow. “Yusuf found it,” he says, tapping the picture against the computer monitor. Eames glances up and notices that Arthur is holding the photo. Well, from the corner of Arthur’s eye, it certainly seems like it, considering Eames’ eyes have grown all wide and…and that nervousness Arthur sees? His smirk widens. “I’m just curious though…” Now that Eames’ attention is finally on Arthur, he turns and looks at Eames, grinning. Finally, to have the upper hand in something, where Eames can’t smirk and grin out of it. “When were you going to mention sneaking pictures of me?”
Eames sits back in his chair, rumpling the fabric of the jacket even more than before. But at the moment, Arthur is too focused on Eames’ expression to even care about the condition of the suit. “I wasn’t, to be quite honest,” Eames says slowly, mouth spreading into a smile. Not a smirk, Arthur notes, but it’s close enough that Arthur feels resentment seeping in. “I was never going to tell you about my clever photography skills. But this…”
Eames leans forward, and presses a kiss onto Arthur, who is now torn between hating that damn smirk, and …wait. What did Eames just do?
Before Arthur can even react, Eames moves away from the kiss, and snatches the picture out of Arthur’s now slacked hands. “That? I was hoping to tell you about after the job was done. As to not muddle your precious little mind now. But oh well. Sorry about that, love.”
He stands, straightens his jacket, and leaves without even attempting to ruin Arthur’s hair or make some comment about his wardrobe. But considering Arthur can only watch Eames slip the picture back into his wallet and walk away, he kind of thinks that Eames has messed up his research schedule a lot more than Arthur had thought he possibly could.