Love Is A Many Tentacled Thing
Title: Love Is A Many Tentacled Thing
Authors: immoral-crow and red-rahl
Team: ROMANCE
Prompt: Water
Word count: 1,451
Rating: PG 13
Warnings: None (unless you’re a hammerhead shark)
A/N: My so very grateful thanks to red-rahl for the art she drew for this. She is amazing! *glomps*
This isn’t one of the 100 things, but is based on that ‘verse. You can find the whole list here.
Love Is A Many Tentacled Thing
Oscar was, by and large, a very happy octopus indeed.
He had seas and oceans to swim in, trees to drop out of, guns to fire, and - most importantly - an Arthur to love him.
Having an Arthur brought a lot of other things with it - like the sea and the guns, yes - but also being allowed to ride round in Arthur’s suit pocket and blow things up. And Mr Eames.
Oscar wasn’t quite sure about Mr Eames. He had nearly squashed Oscar on more than one occasion when he hugged Arthur. Arthur had told Oscar this was because Oscar was a stealth octopus and no-one but Arthur knew he was there. Oscar was not sure about this. He thought maybe Mr Eames was still upset about the time Oscar had mistaken him for a coconut, even though Arthur said that Oscar had just been doing what he was taught.
Still, when they were trapped in a corner, Arthur and Eames fighting shoulder to shoulder, and Eames ran out of ammunition, Oscar didn’t have to think twice. He reached deep into the specially modified pocket that Arthur carried him in and found a grenade. He picked it up carefully in his tentacle - making sure not to touch the pin yet, just like Arthur had showed him - and leant out to pass it to Mr Eames.
For a moment Mr Eames just stared, and Oscar couldn’t remember why he thought Mr Eames looked like a coconut. With his mouth open like that he looked a lot more like a flounder. Oscar waggled a tentacle encouragingly and Mr Eames finally reached out to take the grenade. He threw it at the angry projections, and ducked down behind a low wall to shelter from the blast, pulling Arthur with him.
‘Darling,’ Mr Eames said, ‘I can’t help but notice you have a grenade-carrying octopus in your jacket.’
Arthur hummed, and turned to shoot something over the top of the desk.
‘That would be Oscar,’ he said, and even though he was very busy, he reached into his pocket and petted Oscar.
‘Oscar,’ Eames repeated, his voice flat.
‘Yes,’ Arthur said, letting Oscar climb up his wrist. ‘He’s meant to be good and hide when we’re on jobs, but…’ A burst of gunfire cut him off and by the time they had finished dispatching the projections (Oscar threw his own share of grenades as well) Arthur had lost track of what he’d been saying, and Oscar was reasonably confident he would escape a scolding.
Mr Eames didn’t forget though, and he looked at Oscar so intently that Oscar blushed and retreated to Arthur’s pocket as soon as he was able to.
&hearts &hearts &hearts
Oscar took care to keep a low profile after that when Arthur took him on jobs, but he was still very aware of the way Mr Eames would watch Arthur’s pocket whenever he could.
The rest of their time together was the same though, and when Arthur wanted to practice a second level for a dream, he would always make sure that the first level was a beach, and that he lay down in a deck chair before hooking himself to the PASIV and drifting off with Oscar curled up on his tummy.
Arthur was very still when he was asleep, but Oscar knew he would wake up soon so he enjoyed the sun above him and the warmth of Arthur’s skin below him until a shadow fell across them.
‘Hello, Oscar,’ Mr Eames said, and Oscar flushed in alarm. But Mr Eames’s hand was gentle when he reached down to pick Oscar up, and he petted him gently as he carried him over to the rocks at the edge of the beach.
‘I’ve watched Arthur with you, you know,’ Mr Eames continued. ‘He brings you on all the jobs now, doesn’t he?’ He looked at Oscar as if he expected Oscar to answer, even though he didn’t seem to understand that Oscar was answering him already. (This was probably a very good thing - Oscar was using some very rude words in octopus, which as you know (even if Eames doesn’t) relies mostly on tentacle position and body colour.)
Mr Eames got to the edge of the sea and toed his shoes off. ‘So I thought,’ he said, bringing Oscar up to eye level, ‘that it might be a good idea to teach you some tricks of the trade, so you can help Arthur out when I’m not there.’
Oscar stopped swearing abruptly and looked at Mr Eames. He looked, in Oscar’s opinion, worried, and if Mr Eames was worried about Arthur than it was Oscar’s duty to help. He wrapped two of his tentacles around Eames’s fingers and tried to transmit his willingness to learn.
It must have worked, because Mr Eames smiled at him, and, sitting down on one of the rocks and dangling his feet into the waves, he began to explain to Oscar all about extraction.
They started with a safe in a rock pool, and it took a little while for Oscar to learn how to handle the lock-picks, but Mr Eames said he was learning very fast, and he even collected some mussels for Oscar to eat when he climbed out of the rock pool.
‘You’re very clever, aren’t you?’ he said as Oscar made short work of his snack. He petted Oscar carefully, but his attention seemed to be mostly fixed on the postcards Oscar had retrieved from the safe, and Oscar gave him an affectionate nip with his beak. Eames looked down at him.
‘Would you be able to do the same in the sea?’ he asked, and Oscar waved a tentacle to say he could. Eames smiled and picked him up.
‘Look over there,’ he said, and Oscar could see that there was wood poking out of the water mid-way across the bay.
‘That,’ Eames said, ‘is a Spanish galleon, and it is the perfect place to hide secrets.’ He looked at Oscar. ‘Do you think you will be able to swim out there and find the secrets, Oscar?’
Oscar waved his tentacles again, and Eames leant over to put him in the sea.
Extraction is exciting, Oscar thought as he avoided the puffer fish and sharks to find the safe. I can understand why Arthur works so much with Mr Eames if it’s always like this.
The lock picks were more difficult to use down here, but Oscar remembered all the tips he’d been given and it didn’t take him very long at all to open up the safe and remove the pretty jewelry inside.
He swam back more slowly now he was laden down, and there was one nasty moment when he attracted a bit too much attention, but Oscar had had lots of training from Arthur, and any fish who tried to find trouble round Oscar didn’t have far to look.
Mr Eames was waiting for him on the beach, paddling in the water with his trousers rolled up, and Oscar swam up to him and caressed his calf with friendly tentacles.
‘Oscar,’ Mr Eames said as he lifted him out of the water and saw what Oscar was carrying. ‘Well done! You are now the world’s first extraction octopus.’
Oscar showed him the tooth he had pulled from a particularly nosy hammerhead shark and Eames sucked in an impressed breath.
‘You’re a bit of a BAMFopus, aren’t you?’ he said, and Oscar blushed with pleasure.
‘A BAMFopus?’ Oscar recognized Arthur’s voice and the waved his tentacles in greeting. Arthur was on the beach, but it didn’t take him long to join Eames and Oscar in the warm sea.
‘Well,’ Eames said, sounding embarrassed, ‘he is.’
He showed Arthur the jewelry and the shark’s tooth, and Arthur examined them seriously, before reaching out and taking Oscar from Eames.
‘Have you been learning to extract secrets, then?’ he asked, and Oscar waved his tentacles in delight.
‘He enjoys it,’ Eames said. ‘You can see him smiling.’
Arthur huffed a laugh. ‘You can’t,’ he said. ‘Because he has a beak rather than a mouth, but I know what you mean.’
‘I thought he would be useful,’ Eames said. ‘You know, since you carry him everywhere these days.’
‘You noticed?’ Arthur asked, and Eames nodded. ‘You must have been watching very closely.’
‘For you, Arthur?’ Eames moved a lot closer now, and Oscar took evasive action by climbing onto Arthur’s shoulder. ‘Always.’
Oscar held on tight. Yes, he could see why Arthur liked Mr Eames, but this hugging nonsense was still very inefficient. He preened slightly. If you were going to cling to someone like that, eight arms were infinitely better than two.
Authors: immoral-crow and red-rahl
Team: ROMANCE
Prompt: Water
Word count: 1,451
Rating: PG 13
Warnings: None (unless you’re a hammerhead shark)
A/N: My so very grateful thanks to red-rahl for the art she drew for this. She is amazing! *glomps*
This isn’t one of the 100 things, but is based on that ‘verse. You can find the whole list here.
Love Is A Many Tentacled Thing
Oscar was, by and large, a very happy octopus indeed.
He had seas and oceans to swim in, trees to drop out of, guns to fire, and - most importantly - an Arthur to love him.
Having an Arthur brought a lot of other things with it - like the sea and the guns, yes - but also being allowed to ride round in Arthur’s suit pocket and blow things up. And Mr Eames.
Oscar wasn’t quite sure about Mr Eames. He had nearly squashed Oscar on more than one occasion when he hugged Arthur. Arthur had told Oscar this was because Oscar was a stealth octopus and no-one but Arthur knew he was there. Oscar was not sure about this. He thought maybe Mr Eames was still upset about the time Oscar had mistaken him for a coconut, even though Arthur said that Oscar had just been doing what he was taught.
Still, when they were trapped in a corner, Arthur and Eames fighting shoulder to shoulder, and Eames ran out of ammunition, Oscar didn’t have to think twice. He reached deep into the specially modified pocket that Arthur carried him in and found a grenade. He picked it up carefully in his tentacle - making sure not to touch the pin yet, just like Arthur had showed him - and leant out to pass it to Mr Eames.
For a moment Mr Eames just stared, and Oscar couldn’t remember why he thought Mr Eames looked like a coconut. With his mouth open like that he looked a lot more like a flounder. Oscar waggled a tentacle encouragingly and Mr Eames finally reached out to take the grenade. He threw it at the angry projections, and ducked down behind a low wall to shelter from the blast, pulling Arthur with him.
‘Darling,’ Mr Eames said, ‘I can’t help but notice you have a grenade-carrying octopus in your jacket.’
Arthur hummed, and turned to shoot something over the top of the desk.
‘That would be Oscar,’ he said, and even though he was very busy, he reached into his pocket and petted Oscar.
‘Oscar,’ Eames repeated, his voice flat.
‘Yes,’ Arthur said, letting Oscar climb up his wrist. ‘He’s meant to be good and hide when we’re on jobs, but…’ A burst of gunfire cut him off and by the time they had finished dispatching the projections (Oscar threw his own share of grenades as well) Arthur had lost track of what he’d been saying, and Oscar was reasonably confident he would escape a scolding.
Mr Eames didn’t forget though, and he looked at Oscar so intently that Oscar blushed and retreated to Arthur’s pocket as soon as he was able to.
&hearts &hearts &hearts
Oscar took care to keep a low profile after that when Arthur took him on jobs, but he was still very aware of the way Mr Eames would watch Arthur’s pocket whenever he could.
The rest of their time together was the same though, and when Arthur wanted to practice a second level for a dream, he would always make sure that the first level was a beach, and that he lay down in a deck chair before hooking himself to the PASIV and drifting off with Oscar curled up on his tummy.
Arthur was very still when he was asleep, but Oscar knew he would wake up soon so he enjoyed the sun above him and the warmth of Arthur’s skin below him until a shadow fell across them.
‘Hello, Oscar,’ Mr Eames said, and Oscar flushed in alarm. But Mr Eames’s hand was gentle when he reached down to pick Oscar up, and he petted him gently as he carried him over to the rocks at the edge of the beach.
‘I’ve watched Arthur with you, you know,’ Mr Eames continued. ‘He brings you on all the jobs now, doesn’t he?’ He looked at Oscar as if he expected Oscar to answer, even though he didn’t seem to understand that Oscar was answering him already. (This was probably a very good thing - Oscar was using some very rude words in octopus, which as you know (even if Eames doesn’t) relies mostly on tentacle position and body colour.)
Mr Eames got to the edge of the sea and toed his shoes off. ‘So I thought,’ he said, bringing Oscar up to eye level, ‘that it might be a good idea to teach you some tricks of the trade, so you can help Arthur out when I’m not there.’
Oscar stopped swearing abruptly and looked at Mr Eames. He looked, in Oscar’s opinion, worried, and if Mr Eames was worried about Arthur than it was Oscar’s duty to help. He wrapped two of his tentacles around Eames’s fingers and tried to transmit his willingness to learn.
It must have worked, because Mr Eames smiled at him, and, sitting down on one of the rocks and dangling his feet into the waves, he began to explain to Oscar all about extraction.
They started with a safe in a rock pool, and it took a little while for Oscar to learn how to handle the lock-picks, but Mr Eames said he was learning very fast, and he even collected some mussels for Oscar to eat when he climbed out of the rock pool.
‘You’re very clever, aren’t you?’ he said as Oscar made short work of his snack. He petted Oscar carefully, but his attention seemed to be mostly fixed on the postcards Oscar had retrieved from the safe, and Oscar gave him an affectionate nip with his beak. Eames looked down at him.
‘Would you be able to do the same in the sea?’ he asked, and Oscar waved a tentacle to say he could. Eames smiled and picked him up.
‘Look over there,’ he said, and Oscar could see that there was wood poking out of the water mid-way across the bay.
‘That,’ Eames said, ‘is a Spanish galleon, and it is the perfect place to hide secrets.’ He looked at Oscar. ‘Do you think you will be able to swim out there and find the secrets, Oscar?’
Oscar waved his tentacles again, and Eames leant over to put him in the sea.
Extraction is exciting, Oscar thought as he avoided the puffer fish and sharks to find the safe. I can understand why Arthur works so much with Mr Eames if it’s always like this.
The lock picks were more difficult to use down here, but Oscar remembered all the tips he’d been given and it didn’t take him very long at all to open up the safe and remove the pretty jewelry inside.
He swam back more slowly now he was laden down, and there was one nasty moment when he attracted a bit too much attention, but Oscar had had lots of training from Arthur, and any fish who tried to find trouble round Oscar didn’t have far to look.
Mr Eames was waiting for him on the beach, paddling in the water with his trousers rolled up, and Oscar swam up to him and caressed his calf with friendly tentacles.
‘Oscar,’ Mr Eames said as he lifted him out of the water and saw what Oscar was carrying. ‘Well done! You are now the world’s first extraction octopus.’
Oscar showed him the tooth he had pulled from a particularly nosy hammerhead shark and Eames sucked in an impressed breath.
‘You’re a bit of a BAMFopus, aren’t you?’ he said, and Oscar blushed with pleasure.
‘A BAMFopus?’ Oscar recognized Arthur’s voice and the waved his tentacles in greeting. Arthur was on the beach, but it didn’t take him long to join Eames and Oscar in the warm sea.
‘Well,’ Eames said, sounding embarrassed, ‘he is.’
He showed Arthur the jewelry and the shark’s tooth, and Arthur examined them seriously, before reaching out and taking Oscar from Eames.
‘Have you been learning to extract secrets, then?’ he asked, and Oscar waved his tentacles in delight.
‘He enjoys it,’ Eames said. ‘You can see him smiling.’
Arthur huffed a laugh. ‘You can’t,’ he said. ‘Because he has a beak rather than a mouth, but I know what you mean.’
‘I thought he would be useful,’ Eames said. ‘You know, since you carry him everywhere these days.’
‘You noticed?’ Arthur asked, and Eames nodded. ‘You must have been watching very closely.’
‘For you, Arthur?’ Eames moved a lot closer now, and Oscar took evasive action by climbing onto Arthur’s shoulder. ‘Always.’
Oscar held on tight. Yes, he could see why Arthur liked Mr Eames, but this hugging nonsense was still very inefficient. He preened slightly. If you were going to cling to someone like that, eight arms were infinitely better than two.