love is spelled j-o-h-n-d-e-e-r-e
rating: pg
summary: Arthur and Eames discover John Deere.
disclaimer: :D
notes: because bookshop wrote this flawless fic and then proceeded to make the worst decision ever by letting me continue it in my ridiculous fashion. idk Aja's crazy. also, my parents take me to Home Depot a lot but that doesn't mean I'm any good with tools or home improvements or anything, you know, useful in life.
“We need a hobby,” Arthur declares.
Eames props himself on his elbows, peering at Arthur through his comfortable nest of sheets and pillows. “Do we really,” asks Eames in the same way he asks if Arthur would like him to clean the house, wash the cars, and do the laundry. Eames frowns.
“Yes,” Arthur says from the bathroom, words garbled by the toothbrush in his mouth.
“I’ve an idea,” says Eames suddenly. “Let’s be collectors. We can collect each other--I’ll collect every part of you, and you can do me.”
Arthur rinses and spits. “That’s a stupid hobby,” he says. “How about gardening?”
⌘
It takes a lot of cajoling and threats of bodily harm for Arthur to get Eames to drive them to Home Depot. (It’s a delicate art, the way Arthur has to convince Eames that he may actually follow through on his threats at any given moment.)
They stand awkwardly at the entrance for a few moments, looking this way and that, neither of them entirely sure what the hell is happening. Arthur just wants a non-My-Neighbors-Hate-Me hobby. Eames just wants to go back to bed and (best-case scenario) take Arthur with him.
They wander around, looking at doors and screens and windows and mailboxes and light fixtures.
“Why are there so many lights,” asks Eames, looking from lamp to chandelier to fluorescent bulb. “Ow.”
“It’s a hardware store,” Arthur explains. “Why wouldn’t there be lights.”
“But why are they all on?” Eames wants to know. “You Americans are always touting your eco-friendly green non-sense. Though, I suppose this just goes to show how hypocritical you are.” He frowns. “Then again, you did refuse to sign Kyoto Protocol, so.”
“Hm,” says Arthur, bored. “I think the gardening stuff is this way.”
⌘
As it turns out, Home Depot is having a sale on all John Deere products.
“Oh my God,” says Eames.
“Wow,” blinks Arthur.
“Let’s get one,” Eames says.
“We don’t need one,” says Arthur, staring at the specifications.
“But Arthur,” says Eames. “Look, it’s on sale.”
“We don’t need one,” Arthur repeats.
“But Arthur,” says Eames. “It mows up to 7 acres!”
“Eames,” Arthur says exasperatedly. “We don’t have 7 acres. We don’t even have 1 acre--What the hell am I saying--We don’t even have half!”
“But it would be so much more efficient,” Eames argues stubbornly. “24-horsepower,” he says. “54-inch mower deck.”
“Wait,” Arthur interrupts. “What’s a mower deck?”
“No idea,” answers Eames cheerfully. “But that’s the beauty of new hobbies, innit? I’ll find out.”
“It’s $11,000,” Arthur says. He can feel a headache coming on, so he rubs furiously at his temple.
“So?” says Eames, like that’s a stupid reason to deny anyone a mini-tractor.
“Why do you need an $11,000 lawn mower?” asks Arthur. “What are you going to do with it?”
“It’s not just a lawn mower,” says Eames. “It’s a riding mower.”
“You don’t need a riding mower,” says Arthur.
“But--” says Eames.
“No,” says Arthur.
“I need a riding mower,” Eames says decisively. “Seeing as how I’m going to mow the lawn.”
“No, you’re not,” says Arthur. “You’re never going to mow the lawn. We don’t even have a lawn.”
“Well that’s why we’re here, isn’t it?” says Eames. “To get ourselves a lawn and a garden and a riding mower.”
“God,” says Arthur. “You didn’t even want to come.”
“I always want to come,” Eames says.
“To look at big riding mowers,” he adds quickly.
“24-horsepower,” he says, tapping at the laminated tag. “Look, we could save $350.”
⌘
(“Okay,” Arthur says. “New hobby. Let’s build a basement.”
“No,” says Eames. “What in God’s name do we need a basement for? Let’s stick with gardening.”)
⌘
Arthur refuses to pay $11,000--”$10,650,” supplies Eames helpfully--for a lawn mower. Eames, meanwhile, just raises an eyebrow and says, matter-of-factly, “Well I didn’t ask you to pay for it,” and pulls out his own credit card.
“Er,” says the cashier.
“Fine,” scowls Arthur.
“It’s okay,” Eames tells her. “I’ll just buy all those flowers for him,” he says, pointing at Arthur’s cart of potted plants.
“Shut up,” says Arthur, but he doesn’t argue.
⌘
“I’m not talking to you,” Arthur says, as they load everything into the car.
“Okay,” says Eames, picking up the daffodils. “Fair enough.”
“Really,” insists Arthur.
Eames kisses him, swift and affectionate. “I’m sorry I bought that stupid mower,” he says. “You can not talk to me all you want. I am terribly selfish, and you shouldn’t have anything to do with me.”
“Good,” sniffs Arthur. “At least we have that cleared up.”
Eames slants him a smile.
Arthur glowers at him. “Why can’t you be like a normal person and be obsessed with power tools?”
“Well, I did buy a tool belt, didn’t I?” offers Eames. “Besides, what am I going to do with a hammer drill?”
“Hammer and drill?” suggests Arthur.
“But I do that already,” Eames tells him. Arthur ignores him (rightly so, but Eames takes a chance and kisses him anyway, laughing).
⌘
(Eames turns out to be rather handy with a riding mower, and once Eames offers to mow their lawns, their neighbors soon start to say hi to them, instead of just glaring pointedly. That is, until Eames accidentally runs over a mail post, but that isn’t really his fault. Really, who paints their mailboxes to match the sidewalk?)
⌘
A lot of people are really great with plants, green thumbs and all. Arthur is not one of them.
“Don’t worry,” says Eames when he finds Arthur scowling over a pot of dead roses. “That just means they weren’t fit to survive.”
“I fed them,” Arthur says. “I gave them water.”
Eames pats him on the shoulder consolingly. “It’s not you,” assures Eames. “It’s them.”
“Yeah,” says Arthur. “They won’t stay the fuck alive.”
“I know,” says Eames. “How dare they.”
⌘
“Look,” says Eames gleefully.
“What,” says Arthur.
“It’s a bush,” offers Eames. “I bought it.”
“I can see that,” Arthur intones. “I meant what is it doing here.”
“It’s alive,” says Eames. “You just plant it and leave it alone.”
“That’s a stupid bush,” says Arthur, retreating into the house to get his shovel.
“I know,” says Eames. “It’s perfect.”
⌘
(“It’s not my fault flowers are worse than goldfish,” complains Arthur while Eames rubs BenGay over his knuckles.
“It really isn’t,” Eames agrees and kisses the tips of Arthur’s fingers.
“Gross,” Arthur comments and runs his free hand through Eames’ hair.
“No, it isn’t,” Eames grins and leans up, pressing his forehead against Arthur’s.
“No,” agrees Arthur, nosing Eames’ cheek. “I guess it really isn’t.”)
⌘
“You should come visit,” Arthur says to Cobb over the phone one day, while Eames hovers in the background and nods vehemently.
“Bring the kids,” Eames says.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” says Cobb suspiciously. “After last time--”
“That was different,” Arthur interrupts.
“I told you not to touch anything,” Eames adds.
“Anyway,” says Arthur before Cobb can interrupt. “We’ve been remodeling.”
“Remodeling,” repeats Cobb. “Is that what you’re doing.”
“Home improvement,” says Arthur. “Renovations. I don’t know, what did you call it in the 50s?”
“We called it remodeling,” Cobb says dryly. “The difference is that we actually remodeled.”
“We remodel,” say Arthur and Eames. “We just fixed up our entire yard.”
“It’s fantastic,” says Eames. “It’s green and everything.”
“Hm,” Arthur frowns. “I guess our interiors still need a lot of work though.”
“Your kitchen is--”
“I cleaned it,” snaps Arthur. “Just stay out of the kitchen.”
“And the living room,” Eames tacks on.
“...And probably the bedrooms,” Arthur adds reluctantly. “On second thought, maybe you should just bring a tent. You can camp in our yard! James would love it.”
“In your yard,” echoes Cobb.
“Yes,” says Eames. “We’ve fixed it up a bit. We’ve got a garden and everything now.”
“A garden,” says Cobb.
“Our lawn is amazing,” says Arthur.
“It really is,” adds Eames. “Our grass is fucking amazing.”
“Yes,” Arthur agrees. “It’s like memory foam, but minus the exorbitant costs.”
“Really now,” says Cobb.
“And there’s no cleaning bill,” says Eames happily.
“Yeah,” sighs Arthur. “I think it’s the new fertilizer.”
“It’s organic,” Eames notes.
“Oh God,” says Cobb. “Did you just say organic fertil--” He hangs up.
“What the hell,” says Arthur, setting down the phone. “How rude.”
“Right?” says Eames. “He didn’t even let me talk about the mower.”
⌘
Cobb and Co. arrive in a taxi, because Cobb says that he doesn’t trust them to provide a socially acceptable environment for the kids. (“Whatever,” Arthur says. “Remember to tip, you fucking miser.”) When they arrive, Arthur and Eames are waiting by the garage with Eames’ riding mower out in full display.
“It’s a riding mower,” Eames says proudly as Cobb & Co. make their way up through the gate.
“Oh boy,” says Cobb.
“Oh boy!” cheer James and Philippa.
“Yeah,” says Arthur with a shrug. “I don’t know what the big deal is either.”
“I want a ride!” James announces.
“Me too!” shouts Philippa.
Cobb blanches. “No,” says Cobb. “It’s probably very unsanitary.”
“Unsanitary,” echo James and Philippa. “We want to ride!”
“Ugh,” Cobb groans. “I’m sure Uncle Eames doesn’t want you touching anything.”
“No,” says Eames happily. “It’ll be great fun, just watch.”
“Yeah,” concedes Arthur. “It is kind of fun once you get used to the vibrating.”
“Why don’t we go back to the hotel?” asks Cobb with a twitchy eyebrow. “James, Philippa, wouldn’t you like that? We could go in the swimming pool.”
“Ew,” says Philippa. “People pee in those.”
“Ew,” says Eames. “Cobb, that’s unsanitary.”
summary: Arthur and Eames discover John Deere.
disclaimer: :D
notes: because bookshop wrote this flawless fic and then proceeded to make the worst decision ever by letting me continue it in my ridiculous fashion. idk Aja's crazy. also, my parents take me to Home Depot a lot but that doesn't mean I'm any good with tools or home improvements or anything, you know, useful in life.
“We need a hobby,” Arthur declares.
Eames props himself on his elbows, peering at Arthur through his comfortable nest of sheets and pillows. “Do we really,” asks Eames in the same way he asks if Arthur would like him to clean the house, wash the cars, and do the laundry. Eames frowns.
“Yes,” Arthur says from the bathroom, words garbled by the toothbrush in his mouth.
“I’ve an idea,” says Eames suddenly. “Let’s be collectors. We can collect each other--I’ll collect every part of you, and you can do me.”
Arthur rinses and spits. “That’s a stupid hobby,” he says. “How about gardening?”
⌘
It takes a lot of cajoling and threats of bodily harm for Arthur to get Eames to drive them to Home Depot. (It’s a delicate art, the way Arthur has to convince Eames that he may actually follow through on his threats at any given moment.)
They stand awkwardly at the entrance for a few moments, looking this way and that, neither of them entirely sure what the hell is happening. Arthur just wants a non-My-Neighbors-Hate-Me hobby. Eames just wants to go back to bed and (best-case scenario) take Arthur with him.
They wander around, looking at doors and screens and windows and mailboxes and light fixtures.
“Why are there so many lights,” asks Eames, looking from lamp to chandelier to fluorescent bulb. “Ow.”
“It’s a hardware store,” Arthur explains. “Why wouldn’t there be lights.”
“But why are they all on?” Eames wants to know. “You Americans are always touting your eco-friendly green non-sense. Though, I suppose this just goes to show how hypocritical you are.” He frowns. “Then again, you did refuse to sign Kyoto Protocol, so.”
“Hm,” says Arthur, bored. “I think the gardening stuff is this way.”
⌘
As it turns out, Home Depot is having a sale on all John Deere products.
“Oh my God,” says Eames.
“Wow,” blinks Arthur.
“Let’s get one,” Eames says.
“We don’t need one,” says Arthur, staring at the specifications.
“But Arthur,” says Eames. “Look, it’s on sale.”
“We don’t need one,” Arthur repeats.
“But Arthur,” says Eames. “It mows up to 7 acres!”
“Eames,” Arthur says exasperatedly. “We don’t have 7 acres. We don’t even have 1 acre--What the hell am I saying--We don’t even have half!”
“But it would be so much more efficient,” Eames argues stubbornly. “24-horsepower,” he says. “54-inch mower deck.”
“Wait,” Arthur interrupts. “What’s a mower deck?”
“No idea,” answers Eames cheerfully. “But that’s the beauty of new hobbies, innit? I’ll find out.”
“It’s $11,000,” Arthur says. He can feel a headache coming on, so he rubs furiously at his temple.
“So?” says Eames, like that’s a stupid reason to deny anyone a mini-tractor.
“Why do you need an $11,000 lawn mower?” asks Arthur. “What are you going to do with it?”
“It’s not just a lawn mower,” says Eames. “It’s a riding mower.”
“You don’t need a riding mower,” says Arthur.
“But--” says Eames.
“No,” says Arthur.
“I need a riding mower,” Eames says decisively. “Seeing as how I’m going to mow the lawn.”
“No, you’re not,” says Arthur. “You’re never going to mow the lawn. We don’t even have a lawn.”
“Well that’s why we’re here, isn’t it?” says Eames. “To get ourselves a lawn and a garden and a riding mower.”
“God,” says Arthur. “You didn’t even want to come.”
“I always want to come,” Eames says.
“To look at big riding mowers,” he adds quickly.
“24-horsepower,” he says, tapping at the laminated tag. “Look, we could save $350.”
⌘
(“Okay,” Arthur says. “New hobby. Let’s build a basement.”
“No,” says Eames. “What in God’s name do we need a basement for? Let’s stick with gardening.”)
⌘
Arthur refuses to pay $11,000--”$10,650,” supplies Eames helpfully--for a lawn mower. Eames, meanwhile, just raises an eyebrow and says, matter-of-factly, “Well I didn’t ask you to pay for it,” and pulls out his own credit card.
“Er,” says the cashier.
“Fine,” scowls Arthur.
“It’s okay,” Eames tells her. “I’ll just buy all those flowers for him,” he says, pointing at Arthur’s cart of potted plants.
“Shut up,” says Arthur, but he doesn’t argue.
⌘
“I’m not talking to you,” Arthur says, as they load everything into the car.
“Okay,” says Eames, picking up the daffodils. “Fair enough.”
“Really,” insists Arthur.
Eames kisses him, swift and affectionate. “I’m sorry I bought that stupid mower,” he says. “You can not talk to me all you want. I am terribly selfish, and you shouldn’t have anything to do with me.”
“Good,” sniffs Arthur. “At least we have that cleared up.”
Eames slants him a smile.
Arthur glowers at him. “Why can’t you be like a normal person and be obsessed with power tools?”
“Well, I did buy a tool belt, didn’t I?” offers Eames. “Besides, what am I going to do with a hammer drill?”
“Hammer and drill?” suggests Arthur.
“But I do that already,” Eames tells him. Arthur ignores him (rightly so, but Eames takes a chance and kisses him anyway, laughing).
⌘
(Eames turns out to be rather handy with a riding mower, and once Eames offers to mow their lawns, their neighbors soon start to say hi to them, instead of just glaring pointedly. That is, until Eames accidentally runs over a mail post, but that isn’t really his fault. Really, who paints their mailboxes to match the sidewalk?)
⌘
A lot of people are really great with plants, green thumbs and all. Arthur is not one of them.
“Don’t worry,” says Eames when he finds Arthur scowling over a pot of dead roses. “That just means they weren’t fit to survive.”
“I fed them,” Arthur says. “I gave them water.”
Eames pats him on the shoulder consolingly. “It’s not you,” assures Eames. “It’s them.”
“Yeah,” says Arthur. “They won’t stay the fuck alive.”
“I know,” says Eames. “How dare they.”
⌘
“Look,” says Eames gleefully.
“What,” says Arthur.
“It’s a bush,” offers Eames. “I bought it.”
“I can see that,” Arthur intones. “I meant what is it doing here.”
“It’s alive,” says Eames. “You just plant it and leave it alone.”
“That’s a stupid bush,” says Arthur, retreating into the house to get his shovel.
“I know,” says Eames. “It’s perfect.”
⌘
(“It’s not my fault flowers are worse than goldfish,” complains Arthur while Eames rubs BenGay over his knuckles.
“It really isn’t,” Eames agrees and kisses the tips of Arthur’s fingers.
“Gross,” Arthur comments and runs his free hand through Eames’ hair.
“No, it isn’t,” Eames grins and leans up, pressing his forehead against Arthur’s.
“No,” agrees Arthur, nosing Eames’ cheek. “I guess it really isn’t.”)
⌘
“You should come visit,” Arthur says to Cobb over the phone one day, while Eames hovers in the background and nods vehemently.
“Bring the kids,” Eames says.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” says Cobb suspiciously. “After last time--”
“That was different,” Arthur interrupts.
“I told you not to touch anything,” Eames adds.
“Anyway,” says Arthur before Cobb can interrupt. “We’ve been remodeling.”
“Remodeling,” repeats Cobb. “Is that what you’re doing.”
“Home improvement,” says Arthur. “Renovations. I don’t know, what did you call it in the 50s?”
“We called it remodeling,” Cobb says dryly. “The difference is that we actually remodeled.”
“We remodel,” say Arthur and Eames. “We just fixed up our entire yard.”
“It’s fantastic,” says Eames. “It’s green and everything.”
“Hm,” Arthur frowns. “I guess our interiors still need a lot of work though.”
“Your kitchen is--”
“I cleaned it,” snaps Arthur. “Just stay out of the kitchen.”
“And the living room,” Eames tacks on.
“...And probably the bedrooms,” Arthur adds reluctantly. “On second thought, maybe you should just bring a tent. You can camp in our yard! James would love it.”
“In your yard,” echoes Cobb.
“Yes,” says Eames. “We’ve fixed it up a bit. We’ve got a garden and everything now.”
“A garden,” says Cobb.
“Our lawn is amazing,” says Arthur.
“It really is,” adds Eames. “Our grass is fucking amazing.”
“Yes,” Arthur agrees. “It’s like memory foam, but minus the exorbitant costs.”
“Really now,” says Cobb.
“And there’s no cleaning bill,” says Eames happily.
“Yeah,” sighs Arthur. “I think it’s the new fertilizer.”
“It’s organic,” Eames notes.
“Oh God,” says Cobb. “Did you just say organic fertil--” He hangs up.
“What the hell,” says Arthur, setting down the phone. “How rude.”
“Right?” says Eames. “He didn’t even let me talk about the mower.”
⌘
Cobb and Co. arrive in a taxi, because Cobb says that he doesn’t trust them to provide a socially acceptable environment for the kids. (“Whatever,” Arthur says. “Remember to tip, you fucking miser.”) When they arrive, Arthur and Eames are waiting by the garage with Eames’ riding mower out in full display.
“It’s a riding mower,” Eames says proudly as Cobb & Co. make their way up through the gate.
“Oh boy,” says Cobb.
“Oh boy!” cheer James and Philippa.
“Yeah,” says Arthur with a shrug. “I don’t know what the big deal is either.”
“I want a ride!” James announces.
“Me too!” shouts Philippa.
Cobb blanches. “No,” says Cobb. “It’s probably very unsanitary.”
“Unsanitary,” echo James and Philippa. “We want to ride!”
“Ugh,” Cobb groans. “I’m sure Uncle Eames doesn’t want you touching anything.”
“No,” says Eames happily. “It’ll be great fun, just watch.”
“Yeah,” concedes Arthur. “It is kind of fun once you get used to the vibrating.”
“Why don’t we go back to the hotel?” asks Cobb with a twitchy eyebrow. “James, Philippa, wouldn’t you like that? We could go in the swimming pool.”
“Ew,” says Philippa. “People pee in those.”
“Ew,” says Eames. “Cobb, that’s unsanitary.”