24. Something Fischy is Going on Here (Part One) 1/4
Fandom: Inception
Pairing: Eames/Robert
Genre: romance
Word count: 3,757 of 14,420
Summary: The rain city dream is a week at that level. Once they climb out of the river, they’ve got six days left and Robert’s subconscious armies are still afoot while Limbo is still too close for comfort. It falls to the Forger, of course, to make sure that Robert is comfortable and safe so that the armies will back off and thanks to the fact that they incepted him not to trust Browning it is necessary to find a new face and Eames thinks it will be fun to forge that lovely girl he’s used before and spend a few days harmlessly flirting … it was supposed to be harmless, anyway.
The Dream
“The alternate will meant Dad wanted me to be my own man,” Robert rasped, water streamed down his face and flew from his lips as he spoke loudly over the sounds of the rain driving into the river in front of them. “That’s what I’m going to do, Uncle Peter.”
Eames sat quietly in Browning’s shape as he suppressed the urge to swear in his relief. It worked! Robert was already showing symptoms, and he wasn’t even awake yet, this was a very welcome turn of luck. Eames said nothing of his relief and not only because it would blow his cover but because it might be short lived--they could end up disappointing Saito which could be deadly. Robert was resolved to live for himself, that didn’t necessarily mean he was going to give away his inheritance.
But the seed was planted, and seeds grow.
Robert sat on the river bank with his knees drawn up to support his elbows with his hands pushed into his sodden hair. Beside him, Eames coughed up the last bits of river water and spat it out. Achieving an impressive distance, like Eames had learned to do as a boy, the water from Browning’s lungs arched and rejoined the water in the river. Browning wasn’t a man to spit like that, but Robert had his eyes closed and fuck if Eames really cared right now anyway.
The job was over, but the dream wasn’t. A week at this level. Fuck.
Limbo had been too close for Eames’ comfort-was still too close-and would be for far too long, and it was still possible that any of them could drop down into that hellish labyrinth at any moment so Eames was sick of it. He was sick of all of it. He just wanted to wake up. And once they were awake Cobb had better stay away if he knew what was good for him, because the next time Eames had that man in arm’s reach he was going to kill him with his bare hands.
On the bank opposite, downstream and under the bridge, he could see Arthur joining Ariadne. Upstream, Yusuf was already scrambling up the incline on his way back to the warehouse. Cobb was nowhere to be seen; he must not have gotten out of Limbo. With a heavy jolt of guilt for vowing to a kill an already-dead-man, Eames noticed that Saito was gone as well.
Great, now he wasn’t even going to get paid for this.
The forger got laboriously to his feet-only some of it the act of an old business man who’d been tortured for two days, stuffed in a van and sent into the river--and groaned in pain. Two explosion-kicks back to back was hard on the system, never mind single-handedly fighting off entire armies before that. Fuck, why was it that he was always the one doing all the work?
Robert was still sitting with his head in hands and eyes closed. Eames nudged the toe of a shoe into his leg. “Robert, we need to go.”
All at once, the young man remembered why he’d just climbed out of the river. He sprang to his feet, swayed dangerously. Eames didn’t blame him-in fact he was impressed he’d even made it to his feet. After all, he’d been shot, then suffered through god-knew-what in Limbo, and then would have ridden three kicks back up to the river.
Eames caught the smaller man and steadied him on his feet even as Robert looked wildly around and asked, “The kidnappers-where are they?”
Eames didn’t look toward the bridge, he had waited until Arthur and Ariadne had gotten out of sight before reminding Robert of anything. “They climbed out on the other side,” he said in Browning’s voice, pointing across to where there was nothing but an empty river bank, traffic on the road above, and a freight train tearing through the street.
The train, of course, did not seem out of place to Robert.
He clutched his godfather’s arm tightly. “They’re getting away-we have to go to the police!”
“Yes, of course.” Browning replied and Eames agreed whole-heartedly. It was the only way Robert was going to feel safe and Robert’s ease-of-mind was paramount. If he felt safe, the sub security would wane and fade away. Sure, filing a report and thus opening a police investigation would put projections in the search for the team, but Arthur and the others could evade police easier than an army.
ii.
Outside of the police station, after giving the cops all the information they needed on the kidnapping, Browning reluctantly went his separate way only after Robert insisted. If it was up to Eames, he would stay Browning and at Robert’s side until the timer went out, if anything to see how the seed was growing, if there was any way to help nurture it (to hell if he was going to let this job go to rot now) but Robert was fierce in his insistences, blue eyes blazing.
Already, the drenched cityscape felt a lot easier, the projections content enough considering the miserable weather, armies nowhere in sight, so Eames saw no reason why he couldn’t give the kid a minute on his own--a minute, perhaps to turn over the idea of selling off the company bit by bit?
Eames gave one of the youngest billionaire’s in the world the smile he’d seen Robert’s godfather give him countless times in Sydney, and kindly asked him to get some rest. Then he hurried ahead through the rain. The moment he turned a corner, he paused and used the reflection in a shop window to become just another face in the crowd.
Uncle Peter or no, Eames was going to stay close.
iii.
Robert loved his uncle but he was glad when the old man finally caved and consented to give him time to think about things alone. And anyway, he couldn’t put his finger on it but he had been half sure-while giving his statement-that Uncle Peter had something to do with the kidnapping. A ridiculous idea, a heartbreaking one even, and he had no idea where it was coming from but, still… Robert hadn’t actually seen them torturing Peter, had he?
His head was ringing like a cracked bell tumbling down a mountainside. In fact, he felt like he had tumbled down a mountain, one covered in snow and avalanching on him no less. He drew in a deep, rain-scented breath and wondered if daydreams about avalanches were some kind of psychological side effect common to becoming an orphan, inheriting a multi-billion dollar corporation, and being kidnapped all in the same day...
Outside, it was pouring again, if it even broke while they were inside giving statements. He thought about getting another cab, but frankly after getting kidnapped in the last one, it would probably be a while before he depended on public transportation again. He bought an umbrella off one of the officers and started toward the penthouse apartment he kept in the city.
An alternate will made everything different but nothing different at the same time. Robert still felt like he’d lost a boss instead of a father, and he had yet to shed a tear over it, not even after learning that Maurice apparently cared enough to give him a way out in case this wasn’t the life for him. Robert was afraid to face what that meant about him as a person, not crying over his father’s death. Maybe he could get drunk and work up a good cry alone.
He was just about settled into this plan and half-way home when he was pulled out of his thoughts on the corner. Standing on the curb with a sodden newspaper on her head and her arm out for a cab she was never going to get in this weather was a woman. She almost looked familiar, but on second thought he was sure he’d never seen her before in his life. He would remember curves like that.
Her blonde hair was hanging in tendrils down her back, which was bare in the strapless little black dress that she was wearing. She was bouncing on her toes and swearing every time a yellow car passed her.
Robert forgot to call out to her, or ask to help her out, he just acted. He stepped up to her, bringing the large black umbrella over them both.
“Here,” he said even as she was startled by the sudden dry. She turned, found herself face to face with a stranger and nearly fell off her heels. She stumbled and swayed but stayed upright. Robert laughed only after she did.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said. “Here, you can stand under my umbrella.”
She stepped away from him, back into the downpour and looked up at him from under the melting newspaper for a minute with a pair of big dark eyes that Robert felt like he was getting pulled into, like a couple of black holes in outer space or something.
He snapped himself out of it, twirled the umbrella so that shoots of water flew from each spoke in a star. “Come on, we’ll share,” he said. When she didn’t move, he added, “Going once, going twice…”
She seemed to find her voice at last, “Oh, thanks, but I can get a cab.” She stepped further away and threw her arm back up. Three cabs skied past and she threw colorful swears after them before turning and finding him still there.
Her dark eyes were at the moment streaked with black from ruined mascara. It gave the impression that she was crying, though it was only the rain. That combined with her shivers, she was clearly a woman in great need and Robert was feeling suddenly generous.
“You need this more than I do,” he said, bringing her back under it, but this time handing it over to her. “You’re in a dress and you’re soaked. Take it.”
“You’re in a suit, and you’re dry,” she said with a laugh, trying to get away. “So you need it.”
“I really don’t want it,” Robert said, nearly forcing it into her hand. When she took the crook, her fingers slipped over his hand, leaving cold wet streaks on his knuckles. He stepped backwards into the downfall and felt his hair flattened within seconds. “After a day like today, a little rain’s really not going to kill me.”
He started to walk away. Rain. Yes. Why didn’t he think of this to begin with? It was the perfect way to start his evening of torture.
iv.
Fuck. Eames had taken the shape of his favorite blond-no idea why, just thought a pretty little thing trying to hail a cab in this weather was fitting for the nuances or something: desperation, hopelessness, but also determination. Perhaps it would serve as a subliminal message to junior to accept and go through with all the new ideas exploding deep in the recesses of his mind. Something like that.
It had never even for a moment occurred to him that Robert might go out of his way to do something so nice as to give up his umbrella. Granted, the weeks Eames had spent undercover in Sydney had been focused on studying Browning, but he’d seen a lot of Robert, too, enough to know that he was habitually self-absorbed and across the board a perfect asshole.
Yet here he was, smiling, flirting, and sacrificing an umbrella, walking away through the downpour with his head down and his shoulders hunched against the weather-the striking image of a tortured soul walking bravely into hell.
Eames was a good forger because he was so good at understanding a person’s motives. It was clear that Robert’s moment of generosity and high spirits came from physical attraction. Bloody hell, with these curves it didn’t take a genius to realize that, but there was more to it that than sex. He didn’t just think she was pretty, he thought she was pretty enough to suffer for, which meant he also thought she was pretty enough to care what she thought of him.
Eames might as well put his momentary advantage to good use, right?
If asked, he would blame it on his intentions to nurture the seed, but really, as with all things Eames did, he just had subtle and deliberate plans to have a little fun while he was at it. The painfully honest truth was he just didn’t want the smiling light-hearted Robert to go away just yet-he would be grieving over his father enough once awake. Eames was a might-as-well man to his bones, and he thought that Robert deserved a smile here or there.
v.
Robert was already a few paces away when her voice called after him,
“I really doubt your day could possibly have been worse than mine!”
Her tone was playful, laced with challenge. Robert really had no choice but to turn around. Now the umbrella was resting on her shoulder, the newspaper lay in a forgotten heap of mush in the gutter. She was creating a star burst of water behind her as she spun the umbrella in her hand. One of her thin eyebrows was cocked importantly, and her mouth was a neat little scowl.
He laughed, “Let’s hear your nightmare first.”
“Well,” she said, stepping forward until the lines of water falling from the umbrella were all that separated them. “First, I lose my job because one back stabbing bitch spread lies about me, and then I lost my purse, and now it’s raining on me and I can’t get a cab and my shoes are killing me!”
Robert laughed. “That’s it?”
“Can you do any better?”
He took a deep breath. “Well, um, all in one day my dad died, I was kidnapped then shot at, and then I was in a car wreck that went off a bridge into the river.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh my…well, you win!”
“Yeah,” he said, scratching an eyebrow and mopping his hair out of his eyes. “I always win.”
“Is that so?” she asked as she closed the distance between them and lifted the umbrella back over them both.
Robert laughed and answered, “Yeah, well, I talked you into sharing an umbrella with me, didn’t I?”
vi.
Robert could feel her shivering. They walked huddled together under his big umbrella, headed for her apartment building. He’d tried, once again, to give her the umbrella and go his own way, but she’d insisted he could keep it if he only walked her home. So now they were hoping over gullies and wading through the big puddles together, and he could feel her shivering, and he didn’t know if he should put his arm around her or not.
It would make things less crowded under the umbrella, and it would keep her bare, wet shoulders warm, but he didn’t want her to think he was making a move. And honestly, he wanted to do it just to touch her, so if he did it, then it really would be a move. His dad just died and he just thought he was going to die, and everything that just happened meant he was going to be really busy for the next few days, so now really wasn’t the time.
“I need a favor,” she said, “And I don’t need you to read too much into it.”
“Okay, what is it?”
She took his arm and wrapped it around her shoulders. “Better,” she said.
He laughed and noticed how soft her skin was under his fingers, tried not to turn his fingertips in little circles over her skin to enjoy it more.
“How did your dad die?” she asked.
The sudden question found him utterly unprepared to answer with any kind of grace.
“Oh, um, well, his heart was wearing out, so was his liver and, well he was old enough to be my grandfather-natural causes, I guess is the proper answer.”
“I’m sorry,” she sounded sincere. “It must be hard. Even if we hate them, our parents mean the world to us. To lose one…”
He drew a sudden deep breath, which served as a polite warning to change the subject because he was not going to discuss this. He forced a smile so that she couldn’t see the sudden emotion that wanted to shake his lip. “I’m Robert,” he said, thankful they’d skipped this step earlier so that he could fall back on it now.
She’d been wearing a guilty expression for crossing whatever line she’d crossed in bringing up his father’s death so soon, but she dropped it now. She returned the smile, but it wasn’t forced, and her teeth chattered as she said, “Ally,” he held her tighter without even thinking about it because she was shivering so. “Ally Deems.”
vii.
She stopped at a building and darted from under his umbrella to the shelter of the awning over the stoop. At the top of the stairs, she turned and grinned down at him with a wickedly playful glint in her eyes,
“You know people aren’t really kidnapped in real life,” she said.
Robert laughed, “Funny you should say that, I actually couldn’t stop thinking it while it was happening.”
“What interest do kidnappers have with you?”
He grinned, but it wasn’t playful, just tired. “I’m Robert Fischer, soul inheritor of the Fischer-Morrow Empire.”
He wasn’t sure what he’d expected-maybe for her jaw to drop and her body language to show sudden interest in him. She hadn’t so far, given him any kind of signals along those lines. She could have been sharing an umbrella with a brother for all the interest she showed in being that close to him. He hadn’t realized how refreshing that’d been until now, in this half-second when he was sure he’d lose it.
Instead of turning into a treasure hunter, she frowned, jumped her eyebrows and said, “Wow. I’d be impressed except even a monkey can be the inheritor of billions,” she sighed dramatically and turned on her toe, tossing over her shoulder. “Too bad your old man kicked it-I like the originals, not the copies.”
And a moment later she was gone behind the glass door, which only reflected the rain and the dark silhouette of a thin man under a wide umbrella. Robert’s breath left him in a kind of laugh, kind of punched-in-the-gut way. Anger flared at the audacity of her comment, but at the same time, he whole heartedly agreed. After all, hadn’t he just baffled Uncle Peter by declaring that he was going to be his own man?
He lingered there on the sidewalk for a moment before turning and walking away.
viii.
Inside the building, Eames gave a triumphant fist pump and watched through the door until Robert had gone, then he used the polished elevator doors to turn into an old man with a cane and a pack of cigarettes at which point he turned promptly around and stepped back outside onto the stoop. He enjoyed a smoke as he watched Robert spend ten minutes trying to hail a cab on the corner.
He couldn’t kill a smile thinking of the last words Ally Deems had tossed Robert’s way, and that they had frozen Robert to the spot for several moments afterward. They had an impact on him, because he cared as Eames had predicted he would. Eames liked being right. He also liked harmless flirting.
And what fun.
He’d known it would be. Eames’ sense of humor was peculiar enough that he loved flirting with straight men whenever he possibly could. It was kind of like giving them a taste of what they were missing. And if they never realized what they’d done, it became twice as funny because then it sort of became proof that people think too much and would have much more fun if they didn’t limit the kinds of people they let loose with.
Eames considered himself a universal donor in that category; in his never ending quest for a good time he didn’t discriminate on shape, and he liked to play with the straight ones and hard core lesbians because personally he didn’t know how they could live like that, flying only the one flag. Usually, it was poor unbendable Arthur playing the target for this aspect of Eames’ humor-in fact he ended up being the target of every aspect of Eames’ humor-but this circumstance with Robert had been particularly fun.
Eames didn’t worry why he was having so much more fun than usual, focused as he was more on his self-assuredness that had spawned from a mission accomplished. He’d managed to give Robert a reason to tie into wanting to be his own man. Not only did Robert’s father want him to be, but women would prefer it to be the case also.
It was bloody brilliant-Eames couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought about it up top during all the planning. After all, what do men live for but the acceptance of their father and the approval of a beautiful woman? He tossed the cigarette into the gutter and stepped out into the rain because Robert had abandoned trying to get a cab and was walking again.
ix.
After leaving the beautiful Ally Deems, Robert headed home still thinking of her. This was odd behavior for him; Robert wasn’t one to spend too much time worried about other people. His whole life he’d been content on his own and if ever he needed a woman, Uncle Peter’s wife had always had a list of eligible beauties who aspired to be the next Mrs. Fischer, who would laugh at his jokes and give him anything he wanted so that he might give them a billion dollar wedding and a summer house to redecorate every other month.
Not only was she gorgeous, Ally Deems, but she was interesting and simultaneously NOT interested in him. Perhaps it was a testament to how screwed up he was for not being properly loved after his mother died, perhaps it was a shining example that he had been spoiled and pampered his whole life, but it was kind of because he felt like he didn’t have a chance with her that he couldn’t get her out of his head.
She was like a toy he wanted but was told he couldn’t have so now he wanted it worse than ever…
Countined. Just click on "ficshy" in the tags, you'll get all the other parts. and lemme know what you think?
Pairing: Eames/Robert
Genre: romance
Word count: 3,757 of 14,420
Summary: The rain city dream is a week at that level. Once they climb out of the river, they’ve got six days left and Robert’s subconscious armies are still afoot while Limbo is still too close for comfort. It falls to the Forger, of course, to make sure that Robert is comfortable and safe so that the armies will back off and thanks to the fact that they incepted him not to trust Browning it is necessary to find a new face and Eames thinks it will be fun to forge that lovely girl he’s used before and spend a few days harmlessly flirting … it was supposed to be harmless, anyway.
The Dream
“The alternate will meant Dad wanted me to be my own man,” Robert rasped, water streamed down his face and flew from his lips as he spoke loudly over the sounds of the rain driving into the river in front of them. “That’s what I’m going to do, Uncle Peter.”
Eames sat quietly in Browning’s shape as he suppressed the urge to swear in his relief. It worked! Robert was already showing symptoms, and he wasn’t even awake yet, this was a very welcome turn of luck. Eames said nothing of his relief and not only because it would blow his cover but because it might be short lived--they could end up disappointing Saito which could be deadly. Robert was resolved to live for himself, that didn’t necessarily mean he was going to give away his inheritance.
But the seed was planted, and seeds grow.
Robert sat on the river bank with his knees drawn up to support his elbows with his hands pushed into his sodden hair. Beside him, Eames coughed up the last bits of river water and spat it out. Achieving an impressive distance, like Eames had learned to do as a boy, the water from Browning’s lungs arched and rejoined the water in the river. Browning wasn’t a man to spit like that, but Robert had his eyes closed and fuck if Eames really cared right now anyway.
The job was over, but the dream wasn’t. A week at this level. Fuck.
Limbo had been too close for Eames’ comfort-was still too close-and would be for far too long, and it was still possible that any of them could drop down into that hellish labyrinth at any moment so Eames was sick of it. He was sick of all of it. He just wanted to wake up. And once they were awake Cobb had better stay away if he knew what was good for him, because the next time Eames had that man in arm’s reach he was going to kill him with his bare hands.
On the bank opposite, downstream and under the bridge, he could see Arthur joining Ariadne. Upstream, Yusuf was already scrambling up the incline on his way back to the warehouse. Cobb was nowhere to be seen; he must not have gotten out of Limbo. With a heavy jolt of guilt for vowing to a kill an already-dead-man, Eames noticed that Saito was gone as well.
Great, now he wasn’t even going to get paid for this.
The forger got laboriously to his feet-only some of it the act of an old business man who’d been tortured for two days, stuffed in a van and sent into the river--and groaned in pain. Two explosion-kicks back to back was hard on the system, never mind single-handedly fighting off entire armies before that. Fuck, why was it that he was always the one doing all the work?
Robert was still sitting with his head in hands and eyes closed. Eames nudged the toe of a shoe into his leg. “Robert, we need to go.”
All at once, the young man remembered why he’d just climbed out of the river. He sprang to his feet, swayed dangerously. Eames didn’t blame him-in fact he was impressed he’d even made it to his feet. After all, he’d been shot, then suffered through god-knew-what in Limbo, and then would have ridden three kicks back up to the river.
Eames caught the smaller man and steadied him on his feet even as Robert looked wildly around and asked, “The kidnappers-where are they?”
Eames didn’t look toward the bridge, he had waited until Arthur and Ariadne had gotten out of sight before reminding Robert of anything. “They climbed out on the other side,” he said in Browning’s voice, pointing across to where there was nothing but an empty river bank, traffic on the road above, and a freight train tearing through the street.
The train, of course, did not seem out of place to Robert.
He clutched his godfather’s arm tightly. “They’re getting away-we have to go to the police!”
“Yes, of course.” Browning replied and Eames agreed whole-heartedly. It was the only way Robert was going to feel safe and Robert’s ease-of-mind was paramount. If he felt safe, the sub security would wane and fade away. Sure, filing a report and thus opening a police investigation would put projections in the search for the team, but Arthur and the others could evade police easier than an army.
ii.
Outside of the police station, after giving the cops all the information they needed on the kidnapping, Browning reluctantly went his separate way only after Robert insisted. If it was up to Eames, he would stay Browning and at Robert’s side until the timer went out, if anything to see how the seed was growing, if there was any way to help nurture it (to hell if he was going to let this job go to rot now) but Robert was fierce in his insistences, blue eyes blazing.
Already, the drenched cityscape felt a lot easier, the projections content enough considering the miserable weather, armies nowhere in sight, so Eames saw no reason why he couldn’t give the kid a minute on his own--a minute, perhaps to turn over the idea of selling off the company bit by bit?
Eames gave one of the youngest billionaire’s in the world the smile he’d seen Robert’s godfather give him countless times in Sydney, and kindly asked him to get some rest. Then he hurried ahead through the rain. The moment he turned a corner, he paused and used the reflection in a shop window to become just another face in the crowd.
Uncle Peter or no, Eames was going to stay close.
iii.
Robert loved his uncle but he was glad when the old man finally caved and consented to give him time to think about things alone. And anyway, he couldn’t put his finger on it but he had been half sure-while giving his statement-that Uncle Peter had something to do with the kidnapping. A ridiculous idea, a heartbreaking one even, and he had no idea where it was coming from but, still… Robert hadn’t actually seen them torturing Peter, had he?
His head was ringing like a cracked bell tumbling down a mountainside. In fact, he felt like he had tumbled down a mountain, one covered in snow and avalanching on him no less. He drew in a deep, rain-scented breath and wondered if daydreams about avalanches were some kind of psychological side effect common to becoming an orphan, inheriting a multi-billion dollar corporation, and being kidnapped all in the same day...
Outside, it was pouring again, if it even broke while they were inside giving statements. He thought about getting another cab, but frankly after getting kidnapped in the last one, it would probably be a while before he depended on public transportation again. He bought an umbrella off one of the officers and started toward the penthouse apartment he kept in the city.
An alternate will made everything different but nothing different at the same time. Robert still felt like he’d lost a boss instead of a father, and he had yet to shed a tear over it, not even after learning that Maurice apparently cared enough to give him a way out in case this wasn’t the life for him. Robert was afraid to face what that meant about him as a person, not crying over his father’s death. Maybe he could get drunk and work up a good cry alone.
He was just about settled into this plan and half-way home when he was pulled out of his thoughts on the corner. Standing on the curb with a sodden newspaper on her head and her arm out for a cab she was never going to get in this weather was a woman. She almost looked familiar, but on second thought he was sure he’d never seen her before in his life. He would remember curves like that.
Her blonde hair was hanging in tendrils down her back, which was bare in the strapless little black dress that she was wearing. She was bouncing on her toes and swearing every time a yellow car passed her.
Robert forgot to call out to her, or ask to help her out, he just acted. He stepped up to her, bringing the large black umbrella over them both.
“Here,” he said even as she was startled by the sudden dry. She turned, found herself face to face with a stranger and nearly fell off her heels. She stumbled and swayed but stayed upright. Robert laughed only after she did.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said. “Here, you can stand under my umbrella.”
She stepped away from him, back into the downpour and looked up at him from under the melting newspaper for a minute with a pair of big dark eyes that Robert felt like he was getting pulled into, like a couple of black holes in outer space or something.
He snapped himself out of it, twirled the umbrella so that shoots of water flew from each spoke in a star. “Come on, we’ll share,” he said. When she didn’t move, he added, “Going once, going twice…”
She seemed to find her voice at last, “Oh, thanks, but I can get a cab.” She stepped further away and threw her arm back up. Three cabs skied past and she threw colorful swears after them before turning and finding him still there.
Her dark eyes were at the moment streaked with black from ruined mascara. It gave the impression that she was crying, though it was only the rain. That combined with her shivers, she was clearly a woman in great need and Robert was feeling suddenly generous.
“You need this more than I do,” he said, bringing her back under it, but this time handing it over to her. “You’re in a dress and you’re soaked. Take it.”
“You’re in a suit, and you’re dry,” she said with a laugh, trying to get away. “So you need it.”
“I really don’t want it,” Robert said, nearly forcing it into her hand. When she took the crook, her fingers slipped over his hand, leaving cold wet streaks on his knuckles. He stepped backwards into the downfall and felt his hair flattened within seconds. “After a day like today, a little rain’s really not going to kill me.”
He started to walk away. Rain. Yes. Why didn’t he think of this to begin with? It was the perfect way to start his evening of torture.
iv.
Fuck. Eames had taken the shape of his favorite blond-no idea why, just thought a pretty little thing trying to hail a cab in this weather was fitting for the nuances or something: desperation, hopelessness, but also determination. Perhaps it would serve as a subliminal message to junior to accept and go through with all the new ideas exploding deep in the recesses of his mind. Something like that.
It had never even for a moment occurred to him that Robert might go out of his way to do something so nice as to give up his umbrella. Granted, the weeks Eames had spent undercover in Sydney had been focused on studying Browning, but he’d seen a lot of Robert, too, enough to know that he was habitually self-absorbed and across the board a perfect asshole.
Yet here he was, smiling, flirting, and sacrificing an umbrella, walking away through the downpour with his head down and his shoulders hunched against the weather-the striking image of a tortured soul walking bravely into hell.
Eames was a good forger because he was so good at understanding a person’s motives. It was clear that Robert’s moment of generosity and high spirits came from physical attraction. Bloody hell, with these curves it didn’t take a genius to realize that, but there was more to it that than sex. He didn’t just think she was pretty, he thought she was pretty enough to suffer for, which meant he also thought she was pretty enough to care what she thought of him.
Eames might as well put his momentary advantage to good use, right?
If asked, he would blame it on his intentions to nurture the seed, but really, as with all things Eames did, he just had subtle and deliberate plans to have a little fun while he was at it. The painfully honest truth was he just didn’t want the smiling light-hearted Robert to go away just yet-he would be grieving over his father enough once awake. Eames was a might-as-well man to his bones, and he thought that Robert deserved a smile here or there.
v.
Robert was already a few paces away when her voice called after him,
“I really doubt your day could possibly have been worse than mine!”
Her tone was playful, laced with challenge. Robert really had no choice but to turn around. Now the umbrella was resting on her shoulder, the newspaper lay in a forgotten heap of mush in the gutter. She was creating a star burst of water behind her as she spun the umbrella in her hand. One of her thin eyebrows was cocked importantly, and her mouth was a neat little scowl.
He laughed, “Let’s hear your nightmare first.”
“Well,” she said, stepping forward until the lines of water falling from the umbrella were all that separated them. “First, I lose my job because one back stabbing bitch spread lies about me, and then I lost my purse, and now it’s raining on me and I can’t get a cab and my shoes are killing me!”
Robert laughed. “That’s it?”
“Can you do any better?”
He took a deep breath. “Well, um, all in one day my dad died, I was kidnapped then shot at, and then I was in a car wreck that went off a bridge into the river.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh my…well, you win!”
“Yeah,” he said, scratching an eyebrow and mopping his hair out of his eyes. “I always win.”
“Is that so?” she asked as she closed the distance between them and lifted the umbrella back over them both.
Robert laughed and answered, “Yeah, well, I talked you into sharing an umbrella with me, didn’t I?”
vi.
Robert could feel her shivering. They walked huddled together under his big umbrella, headed for her apartment building. He’d tried, once again, to give her the umbrella and go his own way, but she’d insisted he could keep it if he only walked her home. So now they were hoping over gullies and wading through the big puddles together, and he could feel her shivering, and he didn’t know if he should put his arm around her or not.
It would make things less crowded under the umbrella, and it would keep her bare, wet shoulders warm, but he didn’t want her to think he was making a move. And honestly, he wanted to do it just to touch her, so if he did it, then it really would be a move. His dad just died and he just thought he was going to die, and everything that just happened meant he was going to be really busy for the next few days, so now really wasn’t the time.
“I need a favor,” she said, “And I don’t need you to read too much into it.”
“Okay, what is it?”
She took his arm and wrapped it around her shoulders. “Better,” she said.
He laughed and noticed how soft her skin was under his fingers, tried not to turn his fingertips in little circles over her skin to enjoy it more.
“How did your dad die?” she asked.
The sudden question found him utterly unprepared to answer with any kind of grace.
“Oh, um, well, his heart was wearing out, so was his liver and, well he was old enough to be my grandfather-natural causes, I guess is the proper answer.”
“I’m sorry,” she sounded sincere. “It must be hard. Even if we hate them, our parents mean the world to us. To lose one…”
He drew a sudden deep breath, which served as a polite warning to change the subject because he was not going to discuss this. He forced a smile so that she couldn’t see the sudden emotion that wanted to shake his lip. “I’m Robert,” he said, thankful they’d skipped this step earlier so that he could fall back on it now.
She’d been wearing a guilty expression for crossing whatever line she’d crossed in bringing up his father’s death so soon, but she dropped it now. She returned the smile, but it wasn’t forced, and her teeth chattered as she said, “Ally,” he held her tighter without even thinking about it because she was shivering so. “Ally Deems.”
vii.
She stopped at a building and darted from under his umbrella to the shelter of the awning over the stoop. At the top of the stairs, she turned and grinned down at him with a wickedly playful glint in her eyes,
“You know people aren’t really kidnapped in real life,” she said.
Robert laughed, “Funny you should say that, I actually couldn’t stop thinking it while it was happening.”
“What interest do kidnappers have with you?”
He grinned, but it wasn’t playful, just tired. “I’m Robert Fischer, soul inheritor of the Fischer-Morrow Empire.”
He wasn’t sure what he’d expected-maybe for her jaw to drop and her body language to show sudden interest in him. She hadn’t so far, given him any kind of signals along those lines. She could have been sharing an umbrella with a brother for all the interest she showed in being that close to him. He hadn’t realized how refreshing that’d been until now, in this half-second when he was sure he’d lose it.
Instead of turning into a treasure hunter, she frowned, jumped her eyebrows and said, “Wow. I’d be impressed except even a monkey can be the inheritor of billions,” she sighed dramatically and turned on her toe, tossing over her shoulder. “Too bad your old man kicked it-I like the originals, not the copies.”
And a moment later she was gone behind the glass door, which only reflected the rain and the dark silhouette of a thin man under a wide umbrella. Robert’s breath left him in a kind of laugh, kind of punched-in-the-gut way. Anger flared at the audacity of her comment, but at the same time, he whole heartedly agreed. After all, hadn’t he just baffled Uncle Peter by declaring that he was going to be his own man?
He lingered there on the sidewalk for a moment before turning and walking away.
viii.
Inside the building, Eames gave a triumphant fist pump and watched through the door until Robert had gone, then he used the polished elevator doors to turn into an old man with a cane and a pack of cigarettes at which point he turned promptly around and stepped back outside onto the stoop. He enjoyed a smoke as he watched Robert spend ten minutes trying to hail a cab on the corner.
He couldn’t kill a smile thinking of the last words Ally Deems had tossed Robert’s way, and that they had frozen Robert to the spot for several moments afterward. They had an impact on him, because he cared as Eames had predicted he would. Eames liked being right. He also liked harmless flirting.
And what fun.
He’d known it would be. Eames’ sense of humor was peculiar enough that he loved flirting with straight men whenever he possibly could. It was kind of like giving them a taste of what they were missing. And if they never realized what they’d done, it became twice as funny because then it sort of became proof that people think too much and would have much more fun if they didn’t limit the kinds of people they let loose with.
Eames considered himself a universal donor in that category; in his never ending quest for a good time he didn’t discriminate on shape, and he liked to play with the straight ones and hard core lesbians because personally he didn’t know how they could live like that, flying only the one flag. Usually, it was poor unbendable Arthur playing the target for this aspect of Eames’ humor-in fact he ended up being the target of every aspect of Eames’ humor-but this circumstance with Robert had been particularly fun.
Eames didn’t worry why he was having so much more fun than usual, focused as he was more on his self-assuredness that had spawned from a mission accomplished. He’d managed to give Robert a reason to tie into wanting to be his own man. Not only did Robert’s father want him to be, but women would prefer it to be the case also.
It was bloody brilliant-Eames couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought about it up top during all the planning. After all, what do men live for but the acceptance of their father and the approval of a beautiful woman? He tossed the cigarette into the gutter and stepped out into the rain because Robert had abandoned trying to get a cab and was walking again.
ix.
After leaving the beautiful Ally Deems, Robert headed home still thinking of her. This was odd behavior for him; Robert wasn’t one to spend too much time worried about other people. His whole life he’d been content on his own and if ever he needed a woman, Uncle Peter’s wife had always had a list of eligible beauties who aspired to be the next Mrs. Fischer, who would laugh at his jokes and give him anything he wanted so that he might give them a billion dollar wedding and a summer house to redecorate every other month.
Not only was she gorgeous, Ally Deems, but she was interesting and simultaneously NOT interested in him. Perhaps it was a testament to how screwed up he was for not being properly loved after his mother died, perhaps it was a shining example that he had been spoiled and pampered his whole life, but it was kind of because he felt like he didn’t have a chance with her that he couldn’t get her out of his head.
She was like a toy he wanted but was told he couldn’t have so now he wanted it worse than ever…
Countined. Just click on "ficshy" in the tags, you'll get all the other parts. and lemme know what you think?