A Sense of Feeling
Title: A Sense of Feeling
Fandom: Inception
Pairing: Ariadne/Arthur/Eames
Series: Three Is More Than Just Company
Disclaimer: Did we see these three walk off together at the end of the film? No. So it is not mine.
Summary: "I am a great believer in found families and I'm not a great believer in blood... I've always felt that the people who treated you with respect and included you in their lives were your family and the people who were related to you by blood might happen to be those people but that correlation was a lot less strong than society believes it is." - Joss Whedon
Author's Note: Just as an aside, Eames' nephew in this fic is, in my mind, played by the boy cast as Eustace in the newest Narnia film. :)
Never made it as a wise man
I couldn't cut it as a poor man stealing
Tired of living like a blind man
I'm sick of sight without
A sense of feeling
And this is how you remind me
This is how you remind me
Of what I really am - How You Remind Me, Nickelback
“You two will have to tell me how my reprobate of a son managed to snare the both of you one of these days, I'm simply dying to know,” Margaret Eames says mischievously, studying Arthur and Ariadne over the rim of her teacup. Eames rolls his eyes.
“Thanks, Mum.”
“Oh, don't take things so personally, Sean, honestly.”
Arthur grins wickedly. “You'll have to ask Ari to explain, Ms. Eames, because I really don't know.”
“Watch yourself, darling, I know where you live.”
“Well, I would hope so, unless you've forgotten your own address.”
Margaret glances over at Ariadne. “Are they always like this?”
Ariadne shakes her head. “Oh no, they get much, much worse.” Arthur and Eames break off their banter to glare at Ariadne, who simply smiles back. Margaret laughs, her eyes dancing.
“Well, I'd say you have your hands full with them,” she tells Ariadne in a conspiratorial whisper. Ariadne grins and nods, knowing that the boys, already back to their banter, won't even notice.
“I'm surprised you're so... accepting of all this,” she admits to the older woman. “I mean, not that I thought this would go badly, but you're so calm about it, it's kind of a shock.”
“Well, I confess it took some getting used to, but Sean's told me so much about you at this point that any qualms I had are long gone. Besides, my dear girl, I was a married man's personal assistant and his mistress for twelve years. I don't think I have the right to judge others' relationships as proper or not,” Margaret says very dryly, a rueful twist to her lips. At that, Eames turns around, frowning at his mother.
“Don't make it sound like that, you haven't anything to be ashamed of,” he says firmly.
“Oh, I know that, but that doesn't make it any less true.”
Arthur and Ariadne look at each other. There's something here, something Eames hasn't told them yet and it's probably very important. At least to the mother and son who are quietly hashing out something that has the feel of an old argument. What is going on? Ariadne mouths. Arthur just shakes his head. He doesn't know. His previous relationship with Eames consisted mostly of sex, and with the three of them, there's no reason Eames would tell him something and not Ari, so they're both in the dark. He doesn't like the feeling, not in the slightest.
~ ~ ~
Eames can feel their curiosity, but he doesn't explain, not until they're curled together on the bed that night, in the dark. “If we were being old-fashioned, the term you'd use for me is 'bastard',” he says, no preamble. He can feel them shift on either side of him - somehow they'd known he needed to be the one in the middle tonight - Arthur propping himself up on his elbow and Ariadne moving to sit leaning against the headboard.
He continues in a quiet, even voice, because it's not so much that it bothers him as... Well. It does. “Most people are past that sort of thing now, and that's not really the problem, though it was a bit when I was a kid. See, he's married, my father, and he was married long before I showed up.”
“So he doesn't want anything to do with you?” Arthur asks, confused. It's the only thing he can think of.
“No, he's fond enough of me, or claims to be. It's the stepmother and the half-siblings who can't stand me. I guess I can't blame them much; after all, who wants to be reminded of their husband or father's cheating ways? And I am a very hard to ignore reminder.”
“What does that have to do with you and your mom earlier?” Ariadne wants to know.
“She blames herself for it, says she should have thought things through, or kept my father away from me completely. Not that she'd have been able to, he's got enough power to have taken custody if he'd wanted.”
“Shit,” Arthur says with feeling. “He never tried, I'm assuming?”
“No, he's not the type for something so scandalous. Though he didn't mind openly admitting I was his son. Once he was forced to, that is; I was kept quiet till I was sixteen, but he never denied me. There were a lot of nasty comments about it, but it blew over eventually. There are reasons I'm not too terribly fond of coming home, loves. But now that I'm in town, he'll find out about it, and I expect we'll be asked to visit.”
“Do you want to go?” Ariadne asks.
“Not at all, but I'm not sure I'll be able to get out of it.” Eames sighs, then adds, “He probably won't take you two at all well; I don't give a fuck. If I'm called to present myself, you come with me or I don't go. Unless you don't want to go, I won't drag you along.”
“Of course we'll go!” Arthur didn't get the words out as quickly as Ariadne, but she'd always spoken a little faster than he did anyway. Hearing them both say it, within seconds of each other, makes Eames grin.
“Well then, I won't mind so much.”
~ ~ ~
Arthur hates the house from the moment the three of them enter. There's no particular reason for it, just an instinct that raises his hackles immediately. It has the same feel as the parlor did in one of his foster homes; that it was a showplace, and the things there were Not To Be Touched. The effect, he finds, is much worse when it's the entire house that feels like that. And to make it all even more surreal, it's clear that at least one reason why Jonathan Hart never denied Eames was his son is because there's no way he could have. Eames isn't quite a carbon copy of his father, but the resemblance is startling. And Arthur can't ever imagine Eames in a house like this, it would be just wrong.
Jonathan Hart looks like Eames, but the similarities end there. He doesn't even have the same eyes; his are hazel, but though the color is warmer than Eames' gray, there is a coldness in the eyes that Arthur has never seen in Eames' - well, not when he looked at anyone he was supposed to care about. But Jonathan's warmth toward his son lasted only until Eames introduced Ariadne and Arthur, and then it faded away, replaced by chilly formality.
The rest of the Harts don't even bother with an attempt at warmth - well, none of Jonathan's other children, Eames' half-siblings, do. Richard, the youngest of them all, including Eames, is there alone, but James's fiancee is there, along with Claudia's husband Andrew and their son, Jack. Jonathan's wife Eleanor is not there today, which is probably for the best. Lunch is an uncomfortably stilted affair, with most of the weak conversation offered by the various significant others at the table. Arthur lets Ariadne handle most of that, since she's better at light social chatter than he is anyway, but he runs backup when needed.
Afterwards, Jonathan tells Eames to come with him to his office - and it is an order, or no, it's more like a summons from a king to a peasant, and what stuns Arthur is that Eames goes. He can see how much Eames resents it, but he still goes. Arthur doesn't even know how to react to that, except to get angry. Which isn't going to help.
Ariadne must pick up on it though, and she sends him a warning look. Arthur can't help but smile wryly when she does. Looking a little more relieved, she turns to Claudia's son Jack and smiles at him. “So, are you glad to see your Uncle Sean again? I guess you must not get to see him much.”
Jack shrugs, glancing at his mother, whose lips are pursed unhappily at the question. It's unnerving because her full mouth is not exactly like Eames' but it's similar enough, and Jack fidgets at the expression. “Mum says he's not my real uncle, because he's not Grandmother's son,” he says, sounding faintly snobbish. It's so clearly a mimicked tone, probably something he gets from his mother, that Arthur manages to stop himself from getting too angry. Ariadne's hand on his knee helps as well, because he glances at her and remembers that snarling at a nine-year-old won't help anyone.
~ ~ ~
Eames doesn't bother to sit, even though Jonathan tells him to. His so-called father sits behind his desk and studies him. Eames returns the look squarely, keeping his face blank as if he were in a high-stakes card game. “So, what's this about?”
“I'm aware I can't tell you what to do - you're almost thirty-four years old and even when you were a boy you went your own way - but are you sure this is a good idea?”
Eames isn't stupid, he knows what 'this' is, but he makes Jonathan say it out loud. “Am I sure what's a good idea?”
“You and... Arthur and Ariadne. I mean, three people together like that... It's not exactly normal, or appropriate, is it?”
Eames had known what Jonathan was referring to, so it shouldn't fill him with such rage to hear it said outright, and yet it does. Ever since this family has known of his existence, they've judged him and found him less than worthy to be part of their family. James and Claudia refuse to call him their brother, and while Richard's always been fairly decent to him, they're more like the sort of acquaintances who send each other Christmas cards. They actually do send Christmas cards, but that's not the point.
The point is that he's fucking sick of it, and Jonathan's self-righteousness is even more unacceptable when Eames knows what this man did to his mother for twelve fucking years. “Oh, and having a wife and kids while you're shagging your assistant and having another kid with her is so appropriate is it?” he snaps, eyes flashing. Arthur and Ariadne would recognize the danger signs and back off, but Jonathan doesn't know him, has never known him, and that's a truth Eames has never been able to escape from.
“Now look here, you have no right to - ”
“No right? Really? And what right do you have to go about passing judgment on my life?”
“I'm your father!”
“Oh, that's a laugh. You didn't even want to admit I existed, only did it at all because the fucking press got hold of those photos. So don't start talking to me about how you're my father and that gives you license to tell me what to do, you're basically a fucking sperm donor for all it matters.”
“Now you listen to me, Sean, I did what I thought best for all of us. It would have upset and confused James and Claudia, later Richard as well, and I don't think Eleanor would have been a good stepmother for you to be around as a boy.”
“Well, you should have thought of what it would do to your precious family before taking up with my mother. And what about her? She loved you, you knew that, and you used her! You used her, and you ignored me, and you haven't got any say in how I choose to live my life. This family isn't mine, I have my own family, and they're the people you're telling me I shouldn't be with, so you can bloody well fuck off for all I care.”
He turns and walks out of the office, the door banging against the wall as he shoves it open. He ignores Claudia's scandalized face and the shocked expressions of everyone else, and just walks out. He doesn't even say anything to Ariadne and Arthur; he's pretty sure they'll come after him in a moment, but he needs just a bit of time to himself. He might do or say something regrettable otherwise.
~ ~ ~
Ariadne runs out after Eames, but Arthur moves more slowly. He knows that sometimes a person needs a minute, especially after a fight. And while the thick wood of Jonathan's office door muffled the words, it had still been clear that both men had been shouting. He's at the front door himself when someone clears their throat behind him. When he turns to see Jonathan there, he raises an eyebrow. “Is there something I can do for you, Mr. Hart?”
“I was hoping you'd talk to my son for me, Mr. ... Arthur. Do you not have a last name?”
“I have one. What exactly would you like me to tell him?”
“I can't apologize for my feelings about him being...”
“With Ariadne and me?”
“Yes, I'm sorry, but it's just not normal. But I could have handled the discussion better, and Sean could have reacted more sensibly. You're a reasonable man, I think, surely you understand - ”
Arthur gives him a cold look that has shut up many an idiot over the years, and it works like a charm once again. “I doubt that you and I have the same definition of reasonable, since you're asking me to tell my boyfriend to be more 'sensible' about being told our relationship is abnormal. Sorry, I'd love to help, but I really don't think that will be possible. Have a nice day.”
Outside, Eames is leaning against their rental car, smoking a cigarette. Ariadne's next to him, and they're talking quietly. When Arthur approaches, Eames' eyes flick to him.
“Were you making our apologies?” His voice is sarcastic, biting, but Arthur doesn't take the bait.
“No, I was shutting down Jonathan's misguided attempts to get me on his side. You said your father was a bastard on the way over here, you never mentioned his lack of functioning brain cells.”
Eames' laugh is a little strained, but it's real, and Arthur leans forward to snag the cigarette pack in the other man's front pocket, taking one of his own and lighting up.
“I wish you two would quit that,” Ariadne sighs, though she can't really complain. They don't smoke regularly, only at times like this, so it's not too bad.
Arthur laughs, and Eames grins at her, and it's a real grin, not tense at all. It's like a weight's been lifted off him, and he looks back at the house consideringly.
“I don't have to ever come back here,” he says. “I've said all I've needed to, really.”
“Well, then we won't come back,” Ariadne says.
They drive back to Margaret's house, Eames teasing them both for the way they flinch slightly at being on the left side of the road, and it's like the unpleasant afternoon never happened. The Harts don't matter, they're not Eames' real family anyway. His mother counts, but she's accepted the new family he's found. He has Arthur and Ariadne, and he doesn't need anyone else.
Link to the next installment: fae-boleyn.livejournal.com/17505.html
Fandom: Inception
Pairing: Ariadne/Arthur/Eames
Series: Three Is More Than Just Company
Disclaimer: Did we see these three walk off together at the end of the film? No. So it is not mine.
Summary: "I am a great believer in found families and I'm not a great believer in blood... I've always felt that the people who treated you with respect and included you in their lives were your family and the people who were related to you by blood might happen to be those people but that correlation was a lot less strong than society believes it is." - Joss Whedon
Author's Note: Just as an aside, Eames' nephew in this fic is, in my mind, played by the boy cast as Eustace in the newest Narnia film. :)
Never made it as a wise man
I couldn't cut it as a poor man stealing
Tired of living like a blind man
I'm sick of sight without
A sense of feeling
And this is how you remind me
This is how you remind me
Of what I really am - How You Remind Me, Nickelback
“You two will have to tell me how my reprobate of a son managed to snare the both of you one of these days, I'm simply dying to know,” Margaret Eames says mischievously, studying Arthur and Ariadne over the rim of her teacup. Eames rolls his eyes.
“Thanks, Mum.”
“Oh, don't take things so personally, Sean, honestly.”
Arthur grins wickedly. “You'll have to ask Ari to explain, Ms. Eames, because I really don't know.”
“Watch yourself, darling, I know where you live.”
“Well, I would hope so, unless you've forgotten your own address.”
Margaret glances over at Ariadne. “Are they always like this?”
Ariadne shakes her head. “Oh no, they get much, much worse.” Arthur and Eames break off their banter to glare at Ariadne, who simply smiles back. Margaret laughs, her eyes dancing.
“Well, I'd say you have your hands full with them,” she tells Ariadne in a conspiratorial whisper. Ariadne grins and nods, knowing that the boys, already back to their banter, won't even notice.
“I'm surprised you're so... accepting of all this,” she admits to the older woman. “I mean, not that I thought this would go badly, but you're so calm about it, it's kind of a shock.”
“Well, I confess it took some getting used to, but Sean's told me so much about you at this point that any qualms I had are long gone. Besides, my dear girl, I was a married man's personal assistant and his mistress for twelve years. I don't think I have the right to judge others' relationships as proper or not,” Margaret says very dryly, a rueful twist to her lips. At that, Eames turns around, frowning at his mother.
“Don't make it sound like that, you haven't anything to be ashamed of,” he says firmly.
“Oh, I know that, but that doesn't make it any less true.”
Arthur and Ariadne look at each other. There's something here, something Eames hasn't told them yet and it's probably very important. At least to the mother and son who are quietly hashing out something that has the feel of an old argument. What is going on? Ariadne mouths. Arthur just shakes his head. He doesn't know. His previous relationship with Eames consisted mostly of sex, and with the three of them, there's no reason Eames would tell him something and not Ari, so they're both in the dark. He doesn't like the feeling, not in the slightest.
~ ~ ~
Eames can feel their curiosity, but he doesn't explain, not until they're curled together on the bed that night, in the dark. “If we were being old-fashioned, the term you'd use for me is 'bastard',” he says, no preamble. He can feel them shift on either side of him - somehow they'd known he needed to be the one in the middle tonight - Arthur propping himself up on his elbow and Ariadne moving to sit leaning against the headboard.
He continues in a quiet, even voice, because it's not so much that it bothers him as... Well. It does. “Most people are past that sort of thing now, and that's not really the problem, though it was a bit when I was a kid. See, he's married, my father, and he was married long before I showed up.”
“So he doesn't want anything to do with you?” Arthur asks, confused. It's the only thing he can think of.
“No, he's fond enough of me, or claims to be. It's the stepmother and the half-siblings who can't stand me. I guess I can't blame them much; after all, who wants to be reminded of their husband or father's cheating ways? And I am a very hard to ignore reminder.”
“What does that have to do with you and your mom earlier?” Ariadne wants to know.
“She blames herself for it, says she should have thought things through, or kept my father away from me completely. Not that she'd have been able to, he's got enough power to have taken custody if he'd wanted.”
“Shit,” Arthur says with feeling. “He never tried, I'm assuming?”
“No, he's not the type for something so scandalous. Though he didn't mind openly admitting I was his son. Once he was forced to, that is; I was kept quiet till I was sixteen, but he never denied me. There were a lot of nasty comments about it, but it blew over eventually. There are reasons I'm not too terribly fond of coming home, loves. But now that I'm in town, he'll find out about it, and I expect we'll be asked to visit.”
“Do you want to go?” Ariadne asks.
“Not at all, but I'm not sure I'll be able to get out of it.” Eames sighs, then adds, “He probably won't take you two at all well; I don't give a fuck. If I'm called to present myself, you come with me or I don't go. Unless you don't want to go, I won't drag you along.”
“Of course we'll go!” Arthur didn't get the words out as quickly as Ariadne, but she'd always spoken a little faster than he did anyway. Hearing them both say it, within seconds of each other, makes Eames grin.
“Well then, I won't mind so much.”
~ ~ ~
Arthur hates the house from the moment the three of them enter. There's no particular reason for it, just an instinct that raises his hackles immediately. It has the same feel as the parlor did in one of his foster homes; that it was a showplace, and the things there were Not To Be Touched. The effect, he finds, is much worse when it's the entire house that feels like that. And to make it all even more surreal, it's clear that at least one reason why Jonathan Hart never denied Eames was his son is because there's no way he could have. Eames isn't quite a carbon copy of his father, but the resemblance is startling. And Arthur can't ever imagine Eames in a house like this, it would be just wrong.
Jonathan Hart looks like Eames, but the similarities end there. He doesn't even have the same eyes; his are hazel, but though the color is warmer than Eames' gray, there is a coldness in the eyes that Arthur has never seen in Eames' - well, not when he looked at anyone he was supposed to care about. But Jonathan's warmth toward his son lasted only until Eames introduced Ariadne and Arthur, and then it faded away, replaced by chilly formality.
The rest of the Harts don't even bother with an attempt at warmth - well, none of Jonathan's other children, Eames' half-siblings, do. Richard, the youngest of them all, including Eames, is there alone, but James's fiancee is there, along with Claudia's husband Andrew and their son, Jack. Jonathan's wife Eleanor is not there today, which is probably for the best. Lunch is an uncomfortably stilted affair, with most of the weak conversation offered by the various significant others at the table. Arthur lets Ariadne handle most of that, since she's better at light social chatter than he is anyway, but he runs backup when needed.
Afterwards, Jonathan tells Eames to come with him to his office - and it is an order, or no, it's more like a summons from a king to a peasant, and what stuns Arthur is that Eames goes. He can see how much Eames resents it, but he still goes. Arthur doesn't even know how to react to that, except to get angry. Which isn't going to help.
Ariadne must pick up on it though, and she sends him a warning look. Arthur can't help but smile wryly when she does. Looking a little more relieved, she turns to Claudia's son Jack and smiles at him. “So, are you glad to see your Uncle Sean again? I guess you must not get to see him much.”
Jack shrugs, glancing at his mother, whose lips are pursed unhappily at the question. It's unnerving because her full mouth is not exactly like Eames' but it's similar enough, and Jack fidgets at the expression. “Mum says he's not my real uncle, because he's not Grandmother's son,” he says, sounding faintly snobbish. It's so clearly a mimicked tone, probably something he gets from his mother, that Arthur manages to stop himself from getting too angry. Ariadne's hand on his knee helps as well, because he glances at her and remembers that snarling at a nine-year-old won't help anyone.
~ ~ ~
Eames doesn't bother to sit, even though Jonathan tells him to. His so-called father sits behind his desk and studies him. Eames returns the look squarely, keeping his face blank as if he were in a high-stakes card game. “So, what's this about?”
“I'm aware I can't tell you what to do - you're almost thirty-four years old and even when you were a boy you went your own way - but are you sure this is a good idea?”
Eames isn't stupid, he knows what 'this' is, but he makes Jonathan say it out loud. “Am I sure what's a good idea?”
“You and... Arthur and Ariadne. I mean, three people together like that... It's not exactly normal, or appropriate, is it?”
Eames had known what Jonathan was referring to, so it shouldn't fill him with such rage to hear it said outright, and yet it does. Ever since this family has known of his existence, they've judged him and found him less than worthy to be part of their family. James and Claudia refuse to call him their brother, and while Richard's always been fairly decent to him, they're more like the sort of acquaintances who send each other Christmas cards. They actually do send Christmas cards, but that's not the point.
The point is that he's fucking sick of it, and Jonathan's self-righteousness is even more unacceptable when Eames knows what this man did to his mother for twelve fucking years. “Oh, and having a wife and kids while you're shagging your assistant and having another kid with her is so appropriate is it?” he snaps, eyes flashing. Arthur and Ariadne would recognize the danger signs and back off, but Jonathan doesn't know him, has never known him, and that's a truth Eames has never been able to escape from.
“Now look here, you have no right to - ”
“No right? Really? And what right do you have to go about passing judgment on my life?”
“I'm your father!”
“Oh, that's a laugh. You didn't even want to admit I existed, only did it at all because the fucking press got hold of those photos. So don't start talking to me about how you're my father and that gives you license to tell me what to do, you're basically a fucking sperm donor for all it matters.”
“Now you listen to me, Sean, I did what I thought best for all of us. It would have upset and confused James and Claudia, later Richard as well, and I don't think Eleanor would have been a good stepmother for you to be around as a boy.”
“Well, you should have thought of what it would do to your precious family before taking up with my mother. And what about her? She loved you, you knew that, and you used her! You used her, and you ignored me, and you haven't got any say in how I choose to live my life. This family isn't mine, I have my own family, and they're the people you're telling me I shouldn't be with, so you can bloody well fuck off for all I care.”
He turns and walks out of the office, the door banging against the wall as he shoves it open. He ignores Claudia's scandalized face and the shocked expressions of everyone else, and just walks out. He doesn't even say anything to Ariadne and Arthur; he's pretty sure they'll come after him in a moment, but he needs just a bit of time to himself. He might do or say something regrettable otherwise.
~ ~ ~
Ariadne runs out after Eames, but Arthur moves more slowly. He knows that sometimes a person needs a minute, especially after a fight. And while the thick wood of Jonathan's office door muffled the words, it had still been clear that both men had been shouting. He's at the front door himself when someone clears their throat behind him. When he turns to see Jonathan there, he raises an eyebrow. “Is there something I can do for you, Mr. Hart?”
“I was hoping you'd talk to my son for me, Mr. ... Arthur. Do you not have a last name?”
“I have one. What exactly would you like me to tell him?”
“I can't apologize for my feelings about him being...”
“With Ariadne and me?”
“Yes, I'm sorry, but it's just not normal. But I could have handled the discussion better, and Sean could have reacted more sensibly. You're a reasonable man, I think, surely you understand - ”
Arthur gives him a cold look that has shut up many an idiot over the years, and it works like a charm once again. “I doubt that you and I have the same definition of reasonable, since you're asking me to tell my boyfriend to be more 'sensible' about being told our relationship is abnormal. Sorry, I'd love to help, but I really don't think that will be possible. Have a nice day.”
Outside, Eames is leaning against their rental car, smoking a cigarette. Ariadne's next to him, and they're talking quietly. When Arthur approaches, Eames' eyes flick to him.
“Were you making our apologies?” His voice is sarcastic, biting, but Arthur doesn't take the bait.
“No, I was shutting down Jonathan's misguided attempts to get me on his side. You said your father was a bastard on the way over here, you never mentioned his lack of functioning brain cells.”
Eames' laugh is a little strained, but it's real, and Arthur leans forward to snag the cigarette pack in the other man's front pocket, taking one of his own and lighting up.
“I wish you two would quit that,” Ariadne sighs, though she can't really complain. They don't smoke regularly, only at times like this, so it's not too bad.
Arthur laughs, and Eames grins at her, and it's a real grin, not tense at all. It's like a weight's been lifted off him, and he looks back at the house consideringly.
“I don't have to ever come back here,” he says. “I've said all I've needed to, really.”
“Well, then we won't come back,” Ariadne says.
They drive back to Margaret's house, Eames teasing them both for the way they flinch slightly at being on the left side of the road, and it's like the unpleasant afternoon never happened. The Harts don't matter, they're not Eames' real family anyway. His mother counts, but she's accepted the new family he's found. He has Arthur and Ariadne, and he doesn't need anyone else.
Link to the next installment: fae-boleyn.livejournal.com/17505.html