Of Beds Without Dreams, Inception FanFic
TITLE: Of Beds Without Dreams
RATING: PG/PG-13
WORD COUNT: ~2200
CHARACTERS: Arthur/Eames
WARNINGS: Implied violence? It's tame, I promise.
SUMMARY: Scenes from five beds (and one floor).
AO3 Link | Master Fic List
DISCLAIMER: These characters belong to someone much more brilliant than me.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I wrote this in about 2 1/2 hours last night while also eating my dinner and trying to convince Hulu to load more than five minutes of Glee at a time. I have no clue why my distracted fic seems to be the only fic I actually finish...
Despite being all about beds, my muse failed to turn this anywhere near as smutty as I wanted it to be *le sigh* It’s more fluffy than anything; some h/c...some angst. And also my first time publicly posting Inception fic (please don’t be cruel). Most of it's set pre-Inception, but the last scene is meant to be somewhere in the middle of the movie.
-----------------------------
It doesn’t really matter that Arthur’s built an entire career on Sleep, he still spends most of his time exhausted. He’s not staying in the most majestic of hotels in the city, but the locks on the door are sturdy and the sheets seem clean enough when he slips under them.
He’s so close to true, genuine sleep, it hurts when his phone goes off from the nightstand. He’d ignore it, but in his line of work any call could literally be a matter of life or death. He almost jabs the END button the moment, “Hello, darling,” drips through the receiver, but Eames is quickly moving on, telling him what he’s heard from a friend who’s heard from an acquaintance... “...and really, Arthur, I thought you were going to start playing well with others.”
Arthur blames the sleep-deprivation for the smile that creeps across his lips even as he’s already throwing his clothes back on.
“I appreciate the heads-up, Mr. Eames,” he says as he slips into his jacket.
“My pleasure, Mr. Arthur. Listen, if you need a place to lie low for a bit...” Arthur ends the call before he can be tempted.
---
“You should’ve taken me up on my offer,” Eames grunts as he drags Arthur through the door of another nondescript hotel room.
“Tha’was months ago,” Arthur slurs as he lets himself be steered toward the bed.
“Never took it back, did I?” Eames says as he drops Arthur on the mattress. Arthur groans as the movement jars his aching ribs. “You’re bloody lucky I was in the area,” Eames goes on as he moves around the room, checking windows and the locks on the door. Arthur can’t bring himself to admit it out loud, but he knows Eames is right. If the cocky bastard hadn’t shown up in that warehouse...
“Hey,” Eames’ gentle voice so close to his ear startles Arthur, sending another throb of pain through his mid-section. Eames winces sympathetically as he reaches out to rest a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “Lie back and get some rest,” Eames suggests softly. “I’ll make a few calls and and see what we can get sorted.” Arthur’s too tired, too hurt, to protest as Eames pushes him back against the pillows. He does spend a long moment just staring at Eames, however, watching as the other man pulls out his cell phone and begins scrolling through his contact list. Eames glances over and catches him staring. With a sigh he says, “Go to sleep, Mr. Arthur.”
He drifts off to sleep to the soothing cadence of Eames’ voice as the other man coerces and woos them each safe passage.
---
Arthur’s sitting up in bed, gun in hand, before he’s even fully awake. The creak of the floorboard in the hallway hints at why exactly his sleep’s been interrupted as he slips silently from the bed. He’s ready when the door swings open and he lets the figure step into the room before he presses the muzzle of his gun against the back of their neck.
“Don’t worry, love,” a familiar voice croaks. “I’ve already had a close encounter with a firearm tonight; but I do appreciate the offer.” Arthur reaches behind him to snap on the bedroom light and steps around to face Eames, still keeping a cautious grip on his handgun. Most of the time, they’re allies, but Arthur’s been around long enough never to assume someone’s on his side.
Eames is as pale as Arthur has ever seen him, swaying slightly on his feet as he gives Arthur a meek smile. “You, m’dear, are supposed to be in Ibiza for another week,” Eames informs him. Arthur frowns as he tries to figure out why exactly the forger has apparently broken into his apartment.
“Job ended early; what the hell are you...Whoa!” Arthur’s quick reflexes save Eames from becoming a heap on the floor. Eames isn’t exactly a lightweight and Arthur’s trying not to actually fire his firearm so the best he can do is ease Eames down on the floor, propping him up against the wall so he can get a good look at him.
“Where’s all the blood coming from?” Arthur asks immediately as he abandons the gun on the floor to push Eames’ jacket open. Eames’ t-shirt is soaked crimson from the hole Arthur finds in his right shoulder. Arthur sighs and gets to his feet.
“I was just going to borrow that,” Eames mumbles when Arthur returns from a trip to the bathroom to fetch his medical kit.
“I’m sure you would have left my bathroom a disaster area as well,” Arthur grumbles as he sets about cutting Eames out of his shirt.
The wound isn’t too serious, Eames has just gone too long without trying to stop the bleeding. Arthur barely gets him back on his feet and onto the bed once he’s done patching up the shoulder.
“Do I need to be worried about anyone looking for you?” Arthur asks as he unlaces Eames’ shoes, tossing them across the room before he tucks Eames under the covers.
“No need to worry, pet,” Eames says as his eyes slide closed. “You know my policy on witnesses.”
“What? If they’re gorgeous enough, shag them?”
What starts as a laugh ends as a groan. “Don’t make me laugh,” Eames begs as he blinks up at Arthur. “This isn’t exactly how I imagined my first visitation to your bed.” Arthur resists the urge to roll his eyes.
“Go to sleep, Mr. Eames.”
---
If Arthur had known Eames would be working the job in Prague, well...he still would have signed up for it, but he might not have been so easily persuaded to partake of so much absinthe at the meet-and-greet “party.”
He knows nothing too adventurous happened the night before, but it’s still a bit disconcerting to wake up to Eames, snoring away from the other side of the bed. He stares at the other man for a long moment, watching the way his broad back shifts as he breathes. His broad, naked back...
Arthur forces his gaze to the ceiling. It’s not like he hasn’t been aware of his attraction to Eames for years; since they were both different men with different careers. He just knows involving himself with someone in their line of work will not end well.
“You’re making my head hurt, love,” Eames mumbles from the next pillow over. It takes a lot for Arthur to hide his surprise at unexpectedly hearing the other man’s voice. He turns his head as the mattress dips and finds himself face to face with Eames. Eames has propped himself up on his elbow so he hovers over Arthur by just a few inches. His eyes trial along Arthur’s jawline before they meet Arthur’s own.
“Is it such a horrible thing to wake up next to me?” Eames asks softly. Arthur stares up at him as he honestly considers the questions. After a moment, he decides all his thoughts and considerations are making his own head hurt. He sighs and lifts a hand to cup the back of Eames’ neck, pulling him down for a kiss he’s been waiting years for.
---
The room is dark and silent, but Arthur knows Eames is no more asleep than he is. The forger is wrapped around him, holding him close.
“I have to go with him,” Arthur whispers eventually. The arms around him tighten, just slightly, before a pair of lips press against his shoulder.
“I know,” Eames whispers back. The two men fall into another long moment of silence. “I have things I need to see to...” Eames begins. Arthur twists in his arms to face him.
“I know; I’m not asking you to drop...” Eames silences Arthur with a gentle kiss.
“I have things to see to,” Eames repeats when their lips part. “But I won’t be out of touch.” His fingers brush along Arthur’s cheekbone. “The best forger in all the world just a phone call away.” Arthur’s eyes roll practically of their own accord, but he lets himself smile in the dark, not caring that Eames can probably feel the quirk of his mouth beneath his fingertips. It’s been a rough month, for everyone, and Arthur knows neither of them have smiled in days.
“So you’ll leave me Sam’s number, then?” Arthur can’t help but ask.
“Sam? Sam? That’s who you pick as my better!?” Eames’ tone is suitably scandalized and Arthur can’t resist the laugh that builds in his chest. Eames pulls him closer when the laughter shifts to something far from mirthful. It’s been a rough month.
“I have a lot of projects stateside,” Eames murmurs after a moment as he hand strokes soothing lines down Arthur’s back. “I’ll keep an eye on the little ones.” Arthur kisses the base of Eames’ throat before he lifts his head to kiss his mouth. In the year since Prague, they’ve grown into something far from casual. It’s not entirely formal, either, but it’s the closest thing to an actual relationship Arthur’s had since high school. Arthur’s taken comfort in having Eames with him these past few weeks. He doesn’t know how he’ll do without him; how he’ll do with trying to keep Cobb going...
“When all this is over,” Eames begins, breaking through Arthur’s thoughts. “You and I are going on holiday.” Arthur laughs and pulls back a little.
“We travel the world for a living; where the hell could we possibly go for ’holiday’?”
Eames rolls Arthur onto his back, insinuating his way between Arthur’s legs like he knows he belongs there. “I know this great little hotel in upstate New York,” he whispers in Arthur’s ear before he nibbles on the lobe. “Twenty-four hour room service...”
------
It’s not hard for Arthur to figure out who’s hovering behind him. Ariadne and Yusuf had left hours ago, with Yusuf complaining about the despair of jet lag (how the man got jet lag from a one hour time difference, Arthur couldn’t begin to guess) and Ariadne making vaguely sympathetic noises. Cobb is hooked up to the PASIV in the small space he’s claimed as his ‘office.’ From there it’s simply a matter of elimination as to who has come to stand behind him.
“I feel as if you’ve ignored me since I arrived, darling,” Eames finally speaks up. Arthur takes a deep breath and caps his ink pen before he sets it aside. He turns slowly, wanting to tell the man it’d all been a survival tactic, to keep himself from tackling Eames to the ground the moment he’d strolled into their little hideaway. The second Arthur looks at Eames, however, he knows he won’t be able to say anything in words. He stands and takes the few steps into Eames' arms, pulling him into the first kiss they’ve shared in months.
Eames is the first to pull back. He lifts his hand to cup Arthur’s cheek and smiles at him. “Ready for bed, Mr. Arthur?” he asks. Arthur frowns at him, ready to explain that he can’t leave Cobb alone, especially not with the PASIV. Eames takes hold his hand before he can say anything and drags him around to the back corner of the floor. There, Arthur gapes at the pile of bedding arranged on the floor to vaguely resemble a bed; his bed, actually.
“You raided my apartment,” he says in astonishment. Eames shrugs a bit.
“You obviously haven’t been using it.” Arthur shoots a look at the obviously challenging remark, but Eames merely sighs and pulls Arthur into another kiss. “Have you even slept since you got here?” he asks. Before Arthur can open his mouth to respond, Eames adds, “Without the PASIV?” Arthur drops his gaze to the pile of pillow and blankets, realizing just how inviting they look. Eames starts unbuttoning Arthur’s shirt without waiting for an answer. Arthur lets the forger undress him without comment. He spares a brief glance for the direction of Cobb’s office, but its not like he honestly thinks the other man will be surfacing anytime soon.
Arthur lets Eames bundle him into the makeshift bed. When Eames slides in behind him, wrapping him in his arms, Arthur barely even notices that there’s still an unyielding floor beneath the sleeping bag they’re curled up on. He’s been ignoring his exhaustion ever since Saito proposed inception, but in the safety and comfort of Eames’ arms, he lets himself give into it.
“We’re going to pull it off, you know,” Eames murmurs in his ear. “Cobb’ll go back to his kids; you and me will book a room at that place in New York...” Arthur lets out an unintentionally wistful sigh as he sinks deeper into Eames’ arms.
“I don’t even care if they have room service,” he mumbles as he closes his eyes. “I just want a bed, an honest-to-god bed, with you stretched out, naked, on top.” The chuckle from Eames reverberates along Arthur’s spine before the forger places a kiss to the side of his neck.
“Go to sleep, Mr. Arthur.”
/end
RATING: PG/PG-13
WORD COUNT: ~2200
CHARACTERS: Arthur/Eames
WARNINGS: Implied violence? It's tame, I promise.
SUMMARY: Scenes from five beds (and one floor).
AO3 Link | Master Fic List
DISCLAIMER: These characters belong to someone much more brilliant than me.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I wrote this in about 2 1/2 hours last night while also eating my dinner and trying to convince Hulu to load more than five minutes of Glee at a time. I have no clue why my distracted fic seems to be the only fic I actually finish...
Despite being all about beds, my muse failed to turn this anywhere near as smutty as I wanted it to be *le sigh* It’s more fluffy than anything; some h/c...some angst. And also my first time publicly posting Inception fic (please don’t be cruel). Most of it's set pre-Inception, but the last scene is meant to be somewhere in the middle of the movie.
-----------------------------
It doesn’t really matter that Arthur’s built an entire career on Sleep, he still spends most of his time exhausted. He’s not staying in the most majestic of hotels in the city, but the locks on the door are sturdy and the sheets seem clean enough when he slips under them.
He’s so close to true, genuine sleep, it hurts when his phone goes off from the nightstand. He’d ignore it, but in his line of work any call could literally be a matter of life or death. He almost jabs the END button the moment, “Hello, darling,” drips through the receiver, but Eames is quickly moving on, telling him what he’s heard from a friend who’s heard from an acquaintance... “...and really, Arthur, I thought you were going to start playing well with others.”
Arthur blames the sleep-deprivation for the smile that creeps across his lips even as he’s already throwing his clothes back on.
“I appreciate the heads-up, Mr. Eames,” he says as he slips into his jacket.
“My pleasure, Mr. Arthur. Listen, if you need a place to lie low for a bit...” Arthur ends the call before he can be tempted.
---
“You should’ve taken me up on my offer,” Eames grunts as he drags Arthur through the door of another nondescript hotel room.
“Tha’was months ago,” Arthur slurs as he lets himself be steered toward the bed.
“Never took it back, did I?” Eames says as he drops Arthur on the mattress. Arthur groans as the movement jars his aching ribs. “You’re bloody lucky I was in the area,” Eames goes on as he moves around the room, checking windows and the locks on the door. Arthur can’t bring himself to admit it out loud, but he knows Eames is right. If the cocky bastard hadn’t shown up in that warehouse...
“Hey,” Eames’ gentle voice so close to his ear startles Arthur, sending another throb of pain through his mid-section. Eames winces sympathetically as he reaches out to rest a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “Lie back and get some rest,” Eames suggests softly. “I’ll make a few calls and and see what we can get sorted.” Arthur’s too tired, too hurt, to protest as Eames pushes him back against the pillows. He does spend a long moment just staring at Eames, however, watching as the other man pulls out his cell phone and begins scrolling through his contact list. Eames glances over and catches him staring. With a sigh he says, “Go to sleep, Mr. Arthur.”
He drifts off to sleep to the soothing cadence of Eames’ voice as the other man coerces and woos them each safe passage.
---
Arthur’s sitting up in bed, gun in hand, before he’s even fully awake. The creak of the floorboard in the hallway hints at why exactly his sleep’s been interrupted as he slips silently from the bed. He’s ready when the door swings open and he lets the figure step into the room before he presses the muzzle of his gun against the back of their neck.
“Don’t worry, love,” a familiar voice croaks. “I’ve already had a close encounter with a firearm tonight; but I do appreciate the offer.” Arthur reaches behind him to snap on the bedroom light and steps around to face Eames, still keeping a cautious grip on his handgun. Most of the time, they’re allies, but Arthur’s been around long enough never to assume someone’s on his side.
Eames is as pale as Arthur has ever seen him, swaying slightly on his feet as he gives Arthur a meek smile. “You, m’dear, are supposed to be in Ibiza for another week,” Eames informs him. Arthur frowns as he tries to figure out why exactly the forger has apparently broken into his apartment.
“Job ended early; what the hell are you...Whoa!” Arthur’s quick reflexes save Eames from becoming a heap on the floor. Eames isn’t exactly a lightweight and Arthur’s trying not to actually fire his firearm so the best he can do is ease Eames down on the floor, propping him up against the wall so he can get a good look at him.
“Where’s all the blood coming from?” Arthur asks immediately as he abandons the gun on the floor to push Eames’ jacket open. Eames’ t-shirt is soaked crimson from the hole Arthur finds in his right shoulder. Arthur sighs and gets to his feet.
“I was just going to borrow that,” Eames mumbles when Arthur returns from a trip to the bathroom to fetch his medical kit.
“I’m sure you would have left my bathroom a disaster area as well,” Arthur grumbles as he sets about cutting Eames out of his shirt.
The wound isn’t too serious, Eames has just gone too long without trying to stop the bleeding. Arthur barely gets him back on his feet and onto the bed once he’s done patching up the shoulder.
“Do I need to be worried about anyone looking for you?” Arthur asks as he unlaces Eames’ shoes, tossing them across the room before he tucks Eames under the covers.
“No need to worry, pet,” Eames says as his eyes slide closed. “You know my policy on witnesses.”
“What? If they’re gorgeous enough, shag them?”
What starts as a laugh ends as a groan. “Don’t make me laugh,” Eames begs as he blinks up at Arthur. “This isn’t exactly how I imagined my first visitation to your bed.” Arthur resists the urge to roll his eyes.
“Go to sleep, Mr. Eames.”
---
If Arthur had known Eames would be working the job in Prague, well...he still would have signed up for it, but he might not have been so easily persuaded to partake of so much absinthe at the meet-and-greet “party.”
He knows nothing too adventurous happened the night before, but it’s still a bit disconcerting to wake up to Eames, snoring away from the other side of the bed. He stares at the other man for a long moment, watching the way his broad back shifts as he breathes. His broad, naked back...
Arthur forces his gaze to the ceiling. It’s not like he hasn’t been aware of his attraction to Eames for years; since they were both different men with different careers. He just knows involving himself with someone in their line of work will not end well.
“You’re making my head hurt, love,” Eames mumbles from the next pillow over. It takes a lot for Arthur to hide his surprise at unexpectedly hearing the other man’s voice. He turns his head as the mattress dips and finds himself face to face with Eames. Eames has propped himself up on his elbow so he hovers over Arthur by just a few inches. His eyes trial along Arthur’s jawline before they meet Arthur’s own.
“Is it such a horrible thing to wake up next to me?” Eames asks softly. Arthur stares up at him as he honestly considers the questions. After a moment, he decides all his thoughts and considerations are making his own head hurt. He sighs and lifts a hand to cup the back of Eames’ neck, pulling him down for a kiss he’s been waiting years for.
---
The room is dark and silent, but Arthur knows Eames is no more asleep than he is. The forger is wrapped around him, holding him close.
“I have to go with him,” Arthur whispers eventually. The arms around him tighten, just slightly, before a pair of lips press against his shoulder.
“I know,” Eames whispers back. The two men fall into another long moment of silence. “I have things I need to see to...” Eames begins. Arthur twists in his arms to face him.
“I know; I’m not asking you to drop...” Eames silences Arthur with a gentle kiss.
“I have things to see to,” Eames repeats when their lips part. “But I won’t be out of touch.” His fingers brush along Arthur’s cheekbone. “The best forger in all the world just a phone call away.” Arthur’s eyes roll practically of their own accord, but he lets himself smile in the dark, not caring that Eames can probably feel the quirk of his mouth beneath his fingertips. It’s been a rough month, for everyone, and Arthur knows neither of them have smiled in days.
“So you’ll leave me Sam’s number, then?” Arthur can’t help but ask.
“Sam? Sam? That’s who you pick as my better!?” Eames’ tone is suitably scandalized and Arthur can’t resist the laugh that builds in his chest. Eames pulls him closer when the laughter shifts to something far from mirthful. It’s been a rough month.
“I have a lot of projects stateside,” Eames murmurs after a moment as he hand strokes soothing lines down Arthur’s back. “I’ll keep an eye on the little ones.” Arthur kisses the base of Eames’ throat before he lifts his head to kiss his mouth. In the year since Prague, they’ve grown into something far from casual. It’s not entirely formal, either, but it’s the closest thing to an actual relationship Arthur’s had since high school. Arthur’s taken comfort in having Eames with him these past few weeks. He doesn’t know how he’ll do without him; how he’ll do with trying to keep Cobb going...
“When all this is over,” Eames begins, breaking through Arthur’s thoughts. “You and I are going on holiday.” Arthur laughs and pulls back a little.
“We travel the world for a living; where the hell could we possibly go for ’holiday’?”
Eames rolls Arthur onto his back, insinuating his way between Arthur’s legs like he knows he belongs there. “I know this great little hotel in upstate New York,” he whispers in Arthur’s ear before he nibbles on the lobe. “Twenty-four hour room service...”
------
It’s not hard for Arthur to figure out who’s hovering behind him. Ariadne and Yusuf had left hours ago, with Yusuf complaining about the despair of jet lag (how the man got jet lag from a one hour time difference, Arthur couldn’t begin to guess) and Ariadne making vaguely sympathetic noises. Cobb is hooked up to the PASIV in the small space he’s claimed as his ‘office.’ From there it’s simply a matter of elimination as to who has come to stand behind him.
“I feel as if you’ve ignored me since I arrived, darling,” Eames finally speaks up. Arthur takes a deep breath and caps his ink pen before he sets it aside. He turns slowly, wanting to tell the man it’d all been a survival tactic, to keep himself from tackling Eames to the ground the moment he’d strolled into their little hideaway. The second Arthur looks at Eames, however, he knows he won’t be able to say anything in words. He stands and takes the few steps into Eames' arms, pulling him into the first kiss they’ve shared in months.
Eames is the first to pull back. He lifts his hand to cup Arthur’s cheek and smiles at him. “Ready for bed, Mr. Arthur?” he asks. Arthur frowns at him, ready to explain that he can’t leave Cobb alone, especially not with the PASIV. Eames takes hold his hand before he can say anything and drags him around to the back corner of the floor. There, Arthur gapes at the pile of bedding arranged on the floor to vaguely resemble a bed; his bed, actually.
“You raided my apartment,” he says in astonishment. Eames shrugs a bit.
“You obviously haven’t been using it.” Arthur shoots a look at the obviously challenging remark, but Eames merely sighs and pulls Arthur into another kiss. “Have you even slept since you got here?” he asks. Before Arthur can open his mouth to respond, Eames adds, “Without the PASIV?” Arthur drops his gaze to the pile of pillow and blankets, realizing just how inviting they look. Eames starts unbuttoning Arthur’s shirt without waiting for an answer. Arthur lets the forger undress him without comment. He spares a brief glance for the direction of Cobb’s office, but its not like he honestly thinks the other man will be surfacing anytime soon.
Arthur lets Eames bundle him into the makeshift bed. When Eames slides in behind him, wrapping him in his arms, Arthur barely even notices that there’s still an unyielding floor beneath the sleeping bag they’re curled up on. He’s been ignoring his exhaustion ever since Saito proposed inception, but in the safety and comfort of Eames’ arms, he lets himself give into it.
“We’re going to pull it off, you know,” Eames murmurs in his ear. “Cobb’ll go back to his kids; you and me will book a room at that place in New York...” Arthur lets out an unintentionally wistful sigh as he sinks deeper into Eames’ arms.
“I don’t even care if they have room service,” he mumbles as he closes his eyes. “I just want a bed, an honest-to-god bed, with you stretched out, naked, on top.” The chuckle from Eames reverberates along Arthur’s spine before the forger places a kiss to the side of his neck.
“Go to sleep, Mr. Arthur.”
/end