How's Your Handwriting? (Arthur/Eames, T)
Title: How's Your Handwriting?
Author: aurons_fan
Disclaimer: I may have seen Inception many times, but own it, I do not.
Word Count: 1,003
Rating: T/PG13
Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Summary: written for inception_kink , with the prompt " Eames' handwriting is versatile.
So he forges Arthur's signature on some stuff.
Run with it! :D."
A/N: Second prompt in this fandom and my god I love it so much.
It starts off small.
Arthur hovers over his laptop, trying to will the damn thing to give him the information he needs (after three hours of looking, his patience was running a little thin), when Ariadne approaches his work table, a bouquet of roses in hands.
“That’s lovely, Ariadne,” he says, not taking his eyes off his laptop. “Who sent them? Anyone we should know about?”
She gives an embarrassed giggle and squeezes his shoulders in a pseudo hug. He blinks, and glances away from his work, thoroughly confused. “Eames is wrong. You are really funny, Arthur. Thanks so much for the flowers!”
Before he can respond (or try, because his mind is still going Wait. What?), she all but skips back to her work bench, flowers held tightly to her chest.
Arthur scowls at Eames, who snickers a few tables behind him, and continues his work.
--
Then, it gets bigger.
“Arthur.”
He freezes, because that’s Cobb’s voice on the line, and Arthur is still looking up information about their mark, and he really doesn’t like seeing (or hearing) Cobb angry. Especially not now, when Cobb has the chance to smile at his children. So he decides to just blurt out the truth. “Look, I’m not ready. Give me one more day.”
Cobb goes quiet, and, to Arthur’s surprise, chuckles. “Not that. I just wanted to thank you.”
Arthur feels confused and closes his laptop. “For…?”
“The new clothes you got Phillipa and James? I knew it had to be from you - besides the fact that you signed off on them - though your spelling seems to be a bit off. Spelling your name with an ‘er’? Anyway, Phillipa loves her new dresses, but I think it’ll take James a few years to appreciate suits as you do.”
Cobb says a few more words of praise, before hanging up. Arthur feels like he’s out of the loop, and that is not a feeling he enjoys. Ever. A quick glance at the clock shows it well past one am, and he decides that if he doesn’t get some sleep now, he’ll never get to the bottom of this.
--
Then it hits him.
When he gets the call from Yusuf, and the chemist thanks him profusely for the hookers that were sent to his hotel room, Arthur goes red with fury. He opens his laptop again, and searches his bank account, and yep, there it is. Right there - apparently, in the last couple of days, he has bought clothes, flowers, and hookers, and …
Wait a minute. Arthur is no fool. And his name had been spelled with “ur,” not “er.” Even if he had signed off on some receipt being half awake, who would have misspelled his name like that? And it has to be someone in the team - someone who knows that Cobb is with his children again, that Ariadne drops by every once in a while… Heck, that Yusuf’s extra curricular are a little out of the ordinary
He squints again - as though that would help him understand the truth more - and he notices that all the money that had been taken out for those purchases were now put back into his account.
Huh. Arthur leans back in his chair, pen between his lips, wondering who on the team could have done that….
--”This, Ariadne, is a kick.” -
Arthur jumps out of his chair, quicker than if Eames had been in the room kicking his chair again. He scowls to himself, grabs his coat and keys, and rushes out the door.
--
When he finally gets to Eames hotel room (third try. The forger deciding that giving Arthur five options of where Eames could be found was not at all funny), he bangs on the door with a renewed fury. “I know you’re in there!” He exclaims. “Goddammit, Eames, open up!”
Arthur is certainly glad that Eames opens this door quickly.
He wasn’t, however, expecting Eames to only be wearing a towel.
“Morning!” Eames says brightly, and Arthur shoves him back into the room.
“Have you no shame?” Arthur exclaims, slamming the door behind him. “You don’t just waltz out of your room with nothing on!”
Eames winks. “But I am wearing something,” he says. Arthur, however, does not agree that the small towel wrapped generously around Eames’ waist qualifies as something.
Arthur growls under his breath and, when he sees an outfit on the bed, he moves to throw it at Eames. When he notes it a suit (top of the line, tie beside it, cufflinks next to the collar, and shoes in his size), he freezes, turning to face the dripping Eames.
“You…” he goes slowly, for his benefit. He really doesn’t like Eames’ smirk but he can live with it for a moment. “You bought everyone gifts. Under my name. And then paid me back. Why couldn’t you just buy them yourself?”
Eames looks entirely too cocky in that too small towel. Arthur doesn’t even want to go into the implications of that statement. “Well, before the Inception job, Cobb did ask how my hand writing was. I thought I’d give it a go and test it out. You know. To see if I was really still versatile.”
Arthur exhales loudly. “You spelled my name wrong!”
Eames gives a one shoulder shrug, switching the towel to his other hand. Arthur forces himself to keep his eyes on Eames’ eyes. “How else would you catch on?”
Arthur just knows if he opens his mouth now, he’ll start sputtering about the suit, so he gives this half wave towards the bed. Eames approaches him, crowds his personal space, and grins down to Arthur.
“Oh, that? Just thought I’d thank you for letting me borrow your name for a while, love.”
And he winks.
It’s really not Arthur’s fault that he pulls Eames face down for a kiss. Arthur just wants that damn smirk off Eames’ face.
And if the teeny tiny towel slips off Eames’ frame as well? Oops.
Author: aurons_fan
Disclaimer: I may have seen Inception many times, but own it, I do not.
Word Count: 1,003
Rating: T/PG13
Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Summary: written for inception_kink , with the prompt " Eames' handwriting is versatile.
So he forges Arthur's signature on some stuff.
Run with it! :D."
A/N: Second prompt in this fandom and my god I love it so much.
It starts off small.
Arthur hovers over his laptop, trying to will the damn thing to give him the information he needs (after three hours of looking, his patience was running a little thin), when Ariadne approaches his work table, a bouquet of roses in hands.
“That’s lovely, Ariadne,” he says, not taking his eyes off his laptop. “Who sent them? Anyone we should know about?”
She gives an embarrassed giggle and squeezes his shoulders in a pseudo hug. He blinks, and glances away from his work, thoroughly confused. “Eames is wrong. You are really funny, Arthur. Thanks so much for the flowers!”
Before he can respond (or try, because his mind is still going Wait. What?), she all but skips back to her work bench, flowers held tightly to her chest.
Arthur scowls at Eames, who snickers a few tables behind him, and continues his work.
--
Then, it gets bigger.
“Arthur.”
He freezes, because that’s Cobb’s voice on the line, and Arthur is still looking up information about their mark, and he really doesn’t like seeing (or hearing) Cobb angry. Especially not now, when Cobb has the chance to smile at his children. So he decides to just blurt out the truth. “Look, I’m not ready. Give me one more day.”
Cobb goes quiet, and, to Arthur’s surprise, chuckles. “Not that. I just wanted to thank you.”
Arthur feels confused and closes his laptop. “For…?”
“The new clothes you got Phillipa and James? I knew it had to be from you - besides the fact that you signed off on them - though your spelling seems to be a bit off. Spelling your name with an ‘er’? Anyway, Phillipa loves her new dresses, but I think it’ll take James a few years to appreciate suits as you do.”
Cobb says a few more words of praise, before hanging up. Arthur feels like he’s out of the loop, and that is not a feeling he enjoys. Ever. A quick glance at the clock shows it well past one am, and he decides that if he doesn’t get some sleep now, he’ll never get to the bottom of this.
--
Then it hits him.
When he gets the call from Yusuf, and the chemist thanks him profusely for the hookers that were sent to his hotel room, Arthur goes red with fury. He opens his laptop again, and searches his bank account, and yep, there it is. Right there - apparently, in the last couple of days, he has bought clothes, flowers, and hookers, and …
Wait a minute. Arthur is no fool. And his name had been spelled with “ur,” not “er.” Even if he had signed off on some receipt being half awake, who would have misspelled his name like that? And it has to be someone in the team - someone who knows that Cobb is with his children again, that Ariadne drops by every once in a while… Heck, that Yusuf’s extra curricular are a little out of the ordinary
He squints again - as though that would help him understand the truth more - and he notices that all the money that had been taken out for those purchases were now put back into his account.
Huh. Arthur leans back in his chair, pen between his lips, wondering who on the team could have done that….
--”This, Ariadne, is a kick.” -
Arthur jumps out of his chair, quicker than if Eames had been in the room kicking his chair again. He scowls to himself, grabs his coat and keys, and rushes out the door.
--
When he finally gets to Eames hotel room (third try. The forger deciding that giving Arthur five options of where Eames could be found was not at all funny), he bangs on the door with a renewed fury. “I know you’re in there!” He exclaims. “Goddammit, Eames, open up!”
Arthur is certainly glad that Eames opens this door quickly.
He wasn’t, however, expecting Eames to only be wearing a towel.
“Morning!” Eames says brightly, and Arthur shoves him back into the room.
“Have you no shame?” Arthur exclaims, slamming the door behind him. “You don’t just waltz out of your room with nothing on!”
Eames winks. “But I am wearing something,” he says. Arthur, however, does not agree that the small towel wrapped generously around Eames’ waist qualifies as something.
Arthur growls under his breath and, when he sees an outfit on the bed, he moves to throw it at Eames. When he notes it a suit (top of the line, tie beside it, cufflinks next to the collar, and shoes in his size), he freezes, turning to face the dripping Eames.
“You…” he goes slowly, for his benefit. He really doesn’t like Eames’ smirk but he can live with it for a moment. “You bought everyone gifts. Under my name. And then paid me back. Why couldn’t you just buy them yourself?”
Eames looks entirely too cocky in that too small towel. Arthur doesn’t even want to go into the implications of that statement. “Well, before the Inception job, Cobb did ask how my hand writing was. I thought I’d give it a go and test it out. You know. To see if I was really still versatile.”
Arthur exhales loudly. “You spelled my name wrong!”
Eames gives a one shoulder shrug, switching the towel to his other hand. Arthur forces himself to keep his eyes on Eames’ eyes. “How else would you catch on?”
Arthur just knows if he opens his mouth now, he’ll start sputtering about the suit, so he gives this half wave towards the bed. Eames approaches him, crowds his personal space, and grins down to Arthur.
“Oh, that? Just thought I’d thank you for letting me borrow your name for a while, love.”
And he winks.
It’s really not Arthur’s fault that he pulls Eames face down for a kiss. Arthur just wants that damn smirk off Eames’ face.
And if the teeny tiny towel slips off Eames’ frame as well? Oops.