Oh, Darling [Inception - Arthur/Eames]
Title: Oh, Darling
Summary: They're called 'terms of endearment' for a reason.
Rating: G (what, I can't even?)
Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Spoiler Warnings: Basic spoilers for the film.
Disclaimer: Inception is entirely the work of Chris Nolan.
Notes: For this prompt at inception_kink. It, uh, grew. And really isn't that kinky. Unless you have a romantic-kink for terms of endearment or general cluelessness, like me. Title from The Beatles song of the same name.
Also at AO3.
(Aside: I really thought that Eames was going to be my first PoV character for this fandom. Apparently that was an incorrect assumption.)
“Darling,” Eames’ voice comes out with an edge of frustration. “If you’d be so kind as to move out of the bloody way maybe I can do something about the men who’re trying so very hard to kill us.”
Arthur steps aside, rolling his eyes at Ariadne over Eames’ shoulder, and doesn’t even blink at the sharp retorts of Eames’ ludicrous gun that deafen his senses. Ariadne’s eyes are thoughtful for a moment before she offers a grin, a laugh at Eames’ enthusiasm.
“Never send a boy to do a man’s job,” Eames says over his shoulder, for Ariadne’s benefit, Arthur is certain.
It’s a fight to stop himself from rolling his eyes again. Eames grins as he dispatches the last of the projections and possibly Arthur isn’t prepared for the full force of that grin when Eames turns around.
“Shall we get on with it, then?” Eames asks, propping himself up with the ridiculous gun.
Arthur sighs.
“This way.”
--
“You don’t think it’s weird?” Ariadne leaned against the wall and shot a questioning look at Arthur.
“Sorry - what am I supposed to think is weird?” Arthur asked, sifting through a half-complete dossier on the latest mark.
“You never pay attention when you’re in your files,” Ariadne said, shaking her head. “I asked if you think it’s weird that Eames calls you ‘darling’ and stuff like that.”
The use of the word ‘stuff’ was enough to remind Arthur that Ariadne was a lot younger than the majority of her behaviour suggested.
“I don’t know,” he said, mind already drifting away from the subject. “He’s British - a lot of British people talk like that. He's always talked like that.”
“So you don’t mind?” Ariadne asked, curiosity lifting the tone of her voice. Arthur looked at her and allowed a small smile.
“Ariadne,” he said, shaking his head slightly. “On the list of things I ‘mind’ about Eames - calling me ‘darling’ is somewhere near the bottom.”
Ariadne laughed, a smile coming easily to her mouth, but Arthur was smart enough to catch the way it didn’t quite reach her narrowed eyes.
--
“Pass me that box if you’d be so kind, pet,” Eames points at the box by Arthur’s left hand.
Arthur ignores Yusuf’s snort of laughter as he slides the box across the table. If pushed he freely admits that Yusuf’s humour is a welcome addition to Cobb’s roving team (he always knew Cobb wouldn’t be able to give up the job) - but sometimes he really seems to laugh at nothing.
“Thank you, dear,” Eames smiles. “And with so little fuss. Are you warming up to me, dear Arthur?”
“I wouldn’t call it that,” Arthur says, folding a sharp crease into useless piece of paper. “Maybe I’m getting better at tolerating you.”
“Tolerance is a start, I suppose,” Eames’ smile widens, eyes dipping briefly to Arthur’s hands as he begins to make more intricate folds. “I see Saito made his mark on you.”
Arthur looks down at the origami crane he’s started to fold and lets out a smile of his own. Saito’s nervousness before the inception job had manifested in a few different ways - Arthur had eventually lost count of the cranes he’d found all over the warehouse.
“I suppose it’s not surprising though,” Eames’ voice carries a laugh and his smile becomes something slyer. “I’ve always suspected you’d be good with your hands.”
Arthur flicks the part-finished crane at Eames and sends a glare after it to make certain. Eames’ dirty chuckle is drowned out by Yusuf’s laughter.
--
“It’s very clever,” Yusuf said, leaning back from his vials and looking over his shoulder at Arthur. At Arthur’s raised eyebrow he added: “The way you play with Eames.”
“Play with - I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” Arthur admitted, hating the admittance.
“The way you turn his flirtation back at him,” Yusuf said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “It keeps him cheerful. Believe me - you wouldn’t want to work with a petulant Eames.”
“That’s not flirtation,” Arthur said with a sniff. “He’s just trying to get a reaction. It’s what he does.”
“I may not be the subject of it that often,” Yusuf said with a huff of laughter. “But I know flirtation when I see it.”
“What does it matter, anyway?” Arthur said, trying to hold his voice steady. “Eames flirts with everyone. Anyone.”
Yusuf shook his head at him and craned his neck over his equipment again, leaving Arthur alone with his thoughts.
First Ariadne and then Yusuf. Arthur began to suspect someone else’s hand behind the conversations.
--
“Easy now, love,” Eames’ voice comes out of a brunette’s mouth this time. The cognitive dissonance is palpable - would probably be more palpable if Arthur wasn’t trying to deal copious amounts of pain.
The woman-shape over him shimmers and within a second it’s Eames’ sturdy frame supporting him, practically carrying him out of the line of fire.
“I really hate it when they do that,” Arthur mumbles against the pain.
Eames makes soothing noises as he slides Arthur down a wall. He does it gently at least - with a lot more care than Arthur really would’ve expected - hands fluttering against Arthur’s body as he checks for multiple wounds.
Arthur bats his hands away.
“It’s always the knee,” he mutters, shifting his leg weakly and being unable to stop the grunt of pain.
“I have it on good authority that the knee is amongst the most painful places to be shot,” Eames says, hands coming to rest on Arthur’s shoulders.
“Your good authority is right,” Arthurs says, managing a smile. Eames’ answering smile is tight.
“How bad is it?” Cobb asks, shouts of the sounds of gunfire.
“Bad enough,” Eames replies and for a moment Arthur thinks he hears concern in his voice.
It’s only a dream, he wants to say, but he can’t figure out where the urge to comfort Eames has come from, so he doesn’t.
“You two keep moving,” Arthur says instead, fingers sliding slickly over the handgun he wears at his side when he needs to, even when it ruins the line of his suit. “I’ll see you on the other side.”
“Let me,” Eames says when the gun slips from Arthur’s grasp. He presses the gun against Arthur’s temple and that surprises Arthur more than anything else.
“Isn’t that letting our antagonism go a little far?” Arthur asks. Eames smiles slowly, warmly. It’s not a smile Arthur’s seen before.
“It’s not antagonism, sweetheart,” Eames shakes his head lightly. “Foolish Arthur.”
Cobb makes an impatient noise and Eames frowns for a moment.
“Sorry about this, dearest,” he says and Arthur is surprised for the second time in as many minutes.
Then he is nothing at all.
--
“You know,” Cobb began, handing Arthur a beer. Arthur doesn’t normally drink beer, preferring the more refined taste of wine, but any alcohol was good alcohol after a job like that.
“You know - even for you, this is pretty oblivious,” Cobb smiled and shook his head. Finding his family again had been good for him, eased the tightness he’d held himself with for so long.
“Oblivious,” Arthur repeated, caught up in his own wonderings. “To what?”
“The thing that’s going on between you and Eames,” Cobb said with a laugh. “Come on, Arthur.”
“There’s no thing between me and Eames,” Arthur took a long swallow of the beer, grimacing at the taste. “Seriously - why does everyone keep trying to tell me there is?”
“Wow,” Cobb laughed again, longer. “I didn’t believe Ariadne when she told me - but she was right. You’re the point man, Arthur, you know everything.”
“Not always,” Arthur said quietly, thinking back to Fischer.
“Clearly,” Cobb shook his head. “Listen - I’ve known you long enough to know you’re not going to get this if it’s just us trying to convince you. Go and talk to Eames.”
Cobb stood and patted Arthur on the shoulder and wandered off, presumably in search of Ariadne to congratulate her on another perfect maze.
Arthur frowned at his bottle.
--
“Darling,” Eames says when Arthur finds him sitting outside a tiny French restaurant. “How kind of you to look for me. Especially after the shooting thing.”
“Listen,” Arthur says, leaning his hands on the back the chair across from Eames. “This thing - where you call me darling and love and...sweetheart. You do that to everyone, right?”
Eames stares at him for a long moment, head tilted to one side, and there’s something calculating behind those eyes. At last he smiles and it makes Arthur feel warm.
“No, dear,” Eames says. “Only you.”
“Huh,” Arthur says, grip on the chair relaxing slightly. “So the - that was flirting?”
“I didn’t really think I was being that subtle,” Eames waves a hand. “They call them terms of endearment for a reason, after all.”
“Huh,” Arthur says again. He rubs a hand across the back of his neck.
“Would you like to have a seat?” Eames asks. There’s a sudden stillness about him and a hesitation and Arthur realises that, for once, Eames genuinely doesn’t know how he’s going to react.
It makes him smile.
“Why not?” he says, pulling the chair out and making himself comfortable. As an afterthought he loosens his tie, watching as Eames’ eyes drop to follow the movement of his hands.
“Why not, indeed,” Eames smiles, that slow warm smile again. A smile that is, apparently, only for Arthur.
Arthur relaxes in the chair as Eames begins to talk, about everything and anything that crosses his mind, by the sounds of it, and lets it all roll over him.
Oh. That’s what that is, he brushes a hand briefly against his fluttering heart and smiles, small and secret. It shouldn’t have taken him so long to realise. Endearment.
Summary: They're called 'terms of endearment' for a reason.
Rating: G (what, I can't even?)
Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Spoiler Warnings: Basic spoilers for the film.
Disclaimer: Inception is entirely the work of Chris Nolan.
Notes: For this prompt at inception_kink. It, uh, grew. And really isn't that kinky. Unless you have a romantic-kink for terms of endearment or general cluelessness, like me. Title from The Beatles song of the same name.
Also at AO3.
(Aside: I really thought that Eames was going to be my first PoV character for this fandom. Apparently that was an incorrect assumption.)
“Darling,” Eames’ voice comes out with an edge of frustration. “If you’d be so kind as to move out of the bloody way maybe I can do something about the men who’re trying so very hard to kill us.”
Arthur steps aside, rolling his eyes at Ariadne over Eames’ shoulder, and doesn’t even blink at the sharp retorts of Eames’ ludicrous gun that deafen his senses. Ariadne’s eyes are thoughtful for a moment before she offers a grin, a laugh at Eames’ enthusiasm.
“Never send a boy to do a man’s job,” Eames says over his shoulder, for Ariadne’s benefit, Arthur is certain.
It’s a fight to stop himself from rolling his eyes again. Eames grins as he dispatches the last of the projections and possibly Arthur isn’t prepared for the full force of that grin when Eames turns around.
“Shall we get on with it, then?” Eames asks, propping himself up with the ridiculous gun.
Arthur sighs.
“This way.”
--
“You don’t think it’s weird?” Ariadne leaned against the wall and shot a questioning look at Arthur.
“Sorry - what am I supposed to think is weird?” Arthur asked, sifting through a half-complete dossier on the latest mark.
“You never pay attention when you’re in your files,” Ariadne said, shaking her head. “I asked if you think it’s weird that Eames calls you ‘darling’ and stuff like that.”
The use of the word ‘stuff’ was enough to remind Arthur that Ariadne was a lot younger than the majority of her behaviour suggested.
“I don’t know,” he said, mind already drifting away from the subject. “He’s British - a lot of British people talk like that. He's always talked like that.”
“So you don’t mind?” Ariadne asked, curiosity lifting the tone of her voice. Arthur looked at her and allowed a small smile.
“Ariadne,” he said, shaking his head slightly. “On the list of things I ‘mind’ about Eames - calling me ‘darling’ is somewhere near the bottom.”
Ariadne laughed, a smile coming easily to her mouth, but Arthur was smart enough to catch the way it didn’t quite reach her narrowed eyes.
--
“Pass me that box if you’d be so kind, pet,” Eames points at the box by Arthur’s left hand.
Arthur ignores Yusuf’s snort of laughter as he slides the box across the table. If pushed he freely admits that Yusuf’s humour is a welcome addition to Cobb’s roving team (he always knew Cobb wouldn’t be able to give up the job) - but sometimes he really seems to laugh at nothing.
“Thank you, dear,” Eames smiles. “And with so little fuss. Are you warming up to me, dear Arthur?”
“I wouldn’t call it that,” Arthur says, folding a sharp crease into useless piece of paper. “Maybe I’m getting better at tolerating you.”
“Tolerance is a start, I suppose,” Eames’ smile widens, eyes dipping briefly to Arthur’s hands as he begins to make more intricate folds. “I see Saito made his mark on you.”
Arthur looks down at the origami crane he’s started to fold and lets out a smile of his own. Saito’s nervousness before the inception job had manifested in a few different ways - Arthur had eventually lost count of the cranes he’d found all over the warehouse.
“I suppose it’s not surprising though,” Eames’ voice carries a laugh and his smile becomes something slyer. “I’ve always suspected you’d be good with your hands.”
Arthur flicks the part-finished crane at Eames and sends a glare after it to make certain. Eames’ dirty chuckle is drowned out by Yusuf’s laughter.
--
“It’s very clever,” Yusuf said, leaning back from his vials and looking over his shoulder at Arthur. At Arthur’s raised eyebrow he added: “The way you play with Eames.”
“Play with - I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” Arthur admitted, hating the admittance.
“The way you turn his flirtation back at him,” Yusuf said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “It keeps him cheerful. Believe me - you wouldn’t want to work with a petulant Eames.”
“That’s not flirtation,” Arthur said with a sniff. “He’s just trying to get a reaction. It’s what he does.”
“I may not be the subject of it that often,” Yusuf said with a huff of laughter. “But I know flirtation when I see it.”
“What does it matter, anyway?” Arthur said, trying to hold his voice steady. “Eames flirts with everyone. Anyone.”
Yusuf shook his head at him and craned his neck over his equipment again, leaving Arthur alone with his thoughts.
First Ariadne and then Yusuf. Arthur began to suspect someone else’s hand behind the conversations.
--
“Easy now, love,” Eames’ voice comes out of a brunette’s mouth this time. The cognitive dissonance is palpable - would probably be more palpable if Arthur wasn’t trying to deal copious amounts of pain.
The woman-shape over him shimmers and within a second it’s Eames’ sturdy frame supporting him, practically carrying him out of the line of fire.
“I really hate it when they do that,” Arthur mumbles against the pain.
Eames makes soothing noises as he slides Arthur down a wall. He does it gently at least - with a lot more care than Arthur really would’ve expected - hands fluttering against Arthur’s body as he checks for multiple wounds.
Arthur bats his hands away.
“It’s always the knee,” he mutters, shifting his leg weakly and being unable to stop the grunt of pain.
“I have it on good authority that the knee is amongst the most painful places to be shot,” Eames says, hands coming to rest on Arthur’s shoulders.
“Your good authority is right,” Arthurs says, managing a smile. Eames’ answering smile is tight.
“How bad is it?” Cobb asks, shouts of the sounds of gunfire.
“Bad enough,” Eames replies and for a moment Arthur thinks he hears concern in his voice.
It’s only a dream, he wants to say, but he can’t figure out where the urge to comfort Eames has come from, so he doesn’t.
“You two keep moving,” Arthur says instead, fingers sliding slickly over the handgun he wears at his side when he needs to, even when it ruins the line of his suit. “I’ll see you on the other side.”
“Let me,” Eames says when the gun slips from Arthur’s grasp. He presses the gun against Arthur’s temple and that surprises Arthur more than anything else.
“Isn’t that letting our antagonism go a little far?” Arthur asks. Eames smiles slowly, warmly. It’s not a smile Arthur’s seen before.
“It’s not antagonism, sweetheart,” Eames shakes his head lightly. “Foolish Arthur.”
Cobb makes an impatient noise and Eames frowns for a moment.
“Sorry about this, dearest,” he says and Arthur is surprised for the second time in as many minutes.
Then he is nothing at all.
--
“You know,” Cobb began, handing Arthur a beer. Arthur doesn’t normally drink beer, preferring the more refined taste of wine, but any alcohol was good alcohol after a job like that.
“You know - even for you, this is pretty oblivious,” Cobb smiled and shook his head. Finding his family again had been good for him, eased the tightness he’d held himself with for so long.
“Oblivious,” Arthur repeated, caught up in his own wonderings. “To what?”
“The thing that’s going on between you and Eames,” Cobb said with a laugh. “Come on, Arthur.”
“There’s no thing between me and Eames,” Arthur took a long swallow of the beer, grimacing at the taste. “Seriously - why does everyone keep trying to tell me there is?”
“Wow,” Cobb laughed again, longer. “I didn’t believe Ariadne when she told me - but she was right. You’re the point man, Arthur, you know everything.”
“Not always,” Arthur said quietly, thinking back to Fischer.
“Clearly,” Cobb shook his head. “Listen - I’ve known you long enough to know you’re not going to get this if it’s just us trying to convince you. Go and talk to Eames.”
Cobb stood and patted Arthur on the shoulder and wandered off, presumably in search of Ariadne to congratulate her on another perfect maze.
Arthur frowned at his bottle.
--
“Darling,” Eames says when Arthur finds him sitting outside a tiny French restaurant. “How kind of you to look for me. Especially after the shooting thing.”
“Listen,” Arthur says, leaning his hands on the back the chair across from Eames. “This thing - where you call me darling and love and...sweetheart. You do that to everyone, right?”
Eames stares at him for a long moment, head tilted to one side, and there’s something calculating behind those eyes. At last he smiles and it makes Arthur feel warm.
“No, dear,” Eames says. “Only you.”
“Huh,” Arthur says, grip on the chair relaxing slightly. “So the - that was flirting?”
“I didn’t really think I was being that subtle,” Eames waves a hand. “They call them terms of endearment for a reason, after all.”
“Huh,” Arthur says again. He rubs a hand across the back of his neck.
“Would you like to have a seat?” Eames asks. There’s a sudden stillness about him and a hesitation and Arthur realises that, for once, Eames genuinely doesn’t know how he’s going to react.
It makes him smile.
“Why not?” he says, pulling the chair out and making himself comfortable. As an afterthought he loosens his tie, watching as Eames’ eyes drop to follow the movement of his hands.
“Why not, indeed,” Eames smiles, that slow warm smile again. A smile that is, apparently, only for Arthur.
Arthur relaxes in the chair as Eames begins to talk, about everything and anything that crosses his mind, by the sounds of it, and lets it all roll over him.
Oh. That’s what that is, he brushes a hand briefly against his fluttering heart and smiles, small and secret. It shouldn’t have taken him so long to realise. Endearment.