The Opposite of Hard (Arthur/Ariadne)

[warmboys]

Very rush job. Still working through that writer's block.

This is not real. This never happened!

The Opposite of Hard
Inception, Arthur/Ariadne, PG, like, four words or something
Prompt: "watching arrested development."

“What is this?”

“Shh,” Ariadne said. “It’s my favorite show.”

“It looks like a poorly filmed documentary.”

She tore her eyes away from the screen long enough to cast him a somber stare. “That’s what they want you to think.”

“So you like the stuttering, bumbling type,” Arthur observed.

“What?” Ariadne dropped the remote. It landed on the space between them with a dry thud.

“George Michael. You said he reminded you of an ex.”

“Oh,” she said. He checked for a blush. There wasn’t one. As always, she defied expectations.

“He had an air of vulnerability,” she said vaguely.

Arthur hadn’t the faintest idea what it meant to become vulnerable. He turned to Saito, who had just ended a successful business call.

“How does a man go about procuring,” he looked around before leaning in conspiratorially, “. . . vulnerability?”

Saito frowned. “I’ll check the black market for you.”

He walked into the warehouse the next week with a Band-aid around his pinky.

Eames noticed first. “Dora the Explorer. Nice touch.” He eyed the wrapper and winked.

Cobb raised an eyebrow.

“It matched the tie,” Arthur said, adjusting the lavender knot. It was the only purple thing he owned. He looked over at Ariadne, who seemed engrossed in a collection of miniature building models.

“Ouch,” he said loudly.

“It’s that time again,” he said, sliding into the seat beside her.

She didn’t look at him. “Yes, it is. Now be quiet.”

George Michael-it was always George Michael. He appeared to feature in every scene. He wasn’t even the main character!-was fighting an invisible foe with a light saber. Ariadne watched with a straight face. The scene continued for a minute, which would have felt like centuries had they been in a dream. It felt like centuries to Arthur.

“That was hilarious,” Ariadne said when the credits came up.

She hadn’t cracked a smile through the entire episode. “Is it over?” Arthur asked, keeping relief out of his voice.

“For today, yeah.” She stood up and stretched. Her hair was pleasantly mussed and staticky from the material of the couch.

“What about tomorrow?” He asked.

“The next episode, I guess.” She looked at him. “This is how I unwind. By watching a show that pretends to be real without expecting anyone to believe it.”

There was something beautiful in the shape of her mouth curving around those words. He held her gaze steadily. “You never do rest, do you.”

“Neither do you,” she pointed out. “Hey, what happened to your pink-“

He leaned in and kissed her. She tasted lovely.

They broke apart, and she looked at him with a mixture of confusion and breathlessness. “What are you doing?”

He smiled, as a piece of hair flopped over his eye. That never happened.

“Being vulnerable,” he said, and dipped her back.