Fic: Zippity-Do-Dah (Arthur/Eames)
Title: Zippity-Do-Dah
Fandom: Inception
Pairing: ArthurxEames
Rating: PG-13, I guess
Word Count: ~3000
Warnings: Language, violence, unbeta’d
Summary: The shit thing about the whole incident was that the day had started out brilliant.
Author’s Note: Written for inception_kink for the following amazing prompt. Arthur is taken hostage unrelated to any jobs he's worked. The bank he's in is held up, the train/plane he's on is hijacked, etc. Everyone else is freaking out, Arthur is just annoyed.I just want Arthur, the worst hostage ever. And if he decides he's had enough and is going to rescue himself, and maybe everyone else, by being a BAMF, that would be fabulous.
Disclaimer: I do not own Inception or it characters. This is a work of fiction, and I make no profit from it. Also, mature content means mature. Go figure.
Zippity-Do-Dah
The shit thing about the whole incident was that the day had started out brilliant. Arthur had high hopes for today. He might have even whistled in the shower, mumbling a few bars of ‘Zippity-do-dah, zippity-day’.
Hell, he might have been humming it through the brewing of his favorite Kopi Luwak coffee and over the morning crossword and as he tightened his patterned blue tie, buttoned his gray waistcoat, and tied his expensive shoes.
He left the apartment practically walking on air and yes, he realized that coining that phrase might imply that he was a fifteen year-old girl, but dammit, who the fuck cares?
Two months! And finally Eames was on a plane, even as Arthur was strolling down the street, Eames was finally on the way home.
Arthur only had to run a few errands and then he intended to meet Eames at the airport because fuck all if he could be bothered to wait until Eames made it across town to their apartment. Oh no, the moment Eames landed at La Guardia was the moment that Arthur intended to start his welcome home in the back of their waiting limo.
First though, he needed to stop at the bank. It had been such a long time since he’d conducted any business that he couldn’t handle electronically that he was surprised when he pushed open the heavy glass doors to see a line waiting for the tellers.
He only needed access to his safe deposit box, but even the sitting area was crowded. Arthur stood still, under the vaulted ceilings and between two tall, white pillars, and considered his time table. Even as he thought, his fingers drummed against his thigh and his mouth kept twitching, nearly unable to contain the smile he’d been wearing all morning. Well, that was that.
Mental debate concluded, Arthur sighed and started to turn on his heel. This could wait. He’d much rather be a few minutes early than stuck here and miss Eames. He nodded his head, silently congratulating himself on the best course of action, and a genuine smile curled his lips.
Sadly, instead of pushing his way out of the doors, he watched them yanked open by two men in masks with guns, ordering everyone on the ground.
Given his current mood, it shouldn’t be much of a surprise that Arthur didn’t get down. He didn’t scream or whimper with his face pressed into the cool granite, either. He didn’t even flinch.
No, when two fuckwits decided that today… the day Eames was finally coming home, the day that Arthur was going to have sex that didn’t include his phone on speaker and his own damn hand… was a fine day to rob a bank, Arthur turned, his face the very definition of extremely annoyed and snapped, “Are you fucking kidding me?”
It’s a testament to just how angry Arthur was, his vision doing that thing when it gets all tunneled and later Eames tells him that his ‘rage blackouts’ are actually quite adorable, that he didn’t even anticipate the butt end of fuckwit’s rifle until it slammed into his face.
“Not kidding,” the man growled and Arthur grunted through the pain, spitting blood on the floor.
“Right,” he said to the floor, rubbing at the side of his face and biting down on his cheek, because ow… fucking ow.
He took a moment to scan the room and see that the two masked men weren’t the only ones involved. His personal tormentor loomed in front of him and the second masked man was at the door yanking down the blinds and locking the doors. All three tellers were standing with guns in their faces and the manager was being lead out onto the main floor by a sixth man.
“Get on the ground, asshole!” The command was followed by a series of shots into the ceiling and a spattering of terrified cries from the other innocent people who probably had shit on their to-do lists just like Arthur. Maybe more, since Arthur’s list just had ‘EAMES’.
“Look, calm the fuck down,” Arthur said and wiped at the blood on his cheek with the back of his hand. “Obviously you have plans for today, and I actually have no intention of getting in your way, but, regardless, you really don’t need me on the ground. We all just want to get on with our day.”
The fuckwit stepped close enough that Arthur could see the crystal blue of his eyes and smell his cheap shampoo. His eyes were cold, his determination clear, but Arthur had seen worse. Arthur was worse.
Whatever the man saw reflected in Arthur’s eyes, he misread it, because instead of backing off, he barked, “Davis!” The dark-haired man holding the manager forced the middle-aged woman to her knees and yanked her head back by her hair, gun pressed like a brand to her temple.
It took everything Arthur had not to roll his eyes. “So, you are going to shoot the bank manager, then? Smart move. That’ll teach me.”
Blue-eyes, obviously not happy with Arthur’s response, retaliated by trying for another hit with the butt of his gun. Arthur sidestepped, slapping the gun away with one hand, and yanked the man’s other hand up, twisting.
Another gunshot rung out and they both froze. One of the men at the teller counter had pulled a blonde-haired little girl toward him, her mother sobbing on the floor. The man was built like a tank, short and stout. His smile was more of an ugly grimace as he held the squirming girl and Arthur slowly released Blue Eyes’ hand and stepped back.
“Don’t,” he warned softly and Tank shrugged.
“What are you, some kinda hero?”
Arthur closed his eyes and fisted his hands at his sides. Jesus, as if this whole situation weren’t fucked, now he had to tolerate lame-ass clichés as well?
“No, I’m really not.”
Blue Eyes kicked him in the back of the knee. Arthur crashed to the ground, but the change in position didn’t do anything to weaken the warning glare he sent at Tank.
“Cop then? Fed?”
Arthur rolled his eyes. “No fed on the planet could afford this suit,” he mumbled bitterly. He jerked his attention from Tank and looked at Blue Eyes. “Let the girl go.”
The girl, no more than five and so, so similar to Phillipa that Arthur felt the rage blackout knocking, whimpered. Her mother scrambled to hold her hand. “Mia, baby, it’s okay.”
“I’m on the ground. I’m not getting up. Let. Her. Go.”
No one moved. Arthur snapped his head back to Tank. “Just how long do you think you have? Surely you’ve done some research. I wager response time is less than five minutes and although I’m impressed with your coverage, and I’m sure none of the employees have triggered the alarm, none of you have taken our phones. I’d ask for a show of hands for who has dialed 911, but I think you get my point.”
Davis, still holding the manager, cursed. “Fuck!”
Arthur’s smile is cruel. “Yeah.”
On cue, emergency sirens filled the air.
The six men stared at Arthur who shrugged and raised his voice. “Ladies and gentlemen, we are currently being held hostage. The police are outside and the ‘plan’ if there ever was one… Jesus,” Arthur paused, and shook his head disgusted, “…is currently shot to hell. We all need to stay calm and cater to the idiots with the guns. In the interest of preserving our lives, please take out all of your phones and electronic devices and slide them towards me and Blue Eyes here.”
The terrified hostages moved slowly, doing what Arthur said and the three fuckwits at the teller counter started to yell, demanding all the phones, like it was their idea, like they should have done immediately.
Arthur watched Tank release Mia who was immediately wrapped up in her mother’s arms. He wasn’t surprised when Blue Eyes kicked him brutally in the kidney. He fell forward onto his hands and breathed heavily. “Second time, asshole,” Arthur hissed. “You know what they say about the third strike?”
Blue Eyes growled and made to move at Arthur again when the masked man at the door shouted, “Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck! They got cops and SWAT and fucking news vans.”
Arthur sat back on his heels. “Right, so that brings us to Plan B?”
Silence. Arthur looked around. The twenty-so hostages had been corralled against one wall after the phone roundup. The manager was still on her knees and Arthur and Blue-Eyes, in the middle of the lobby, held everyone’s attention.
“There is a Plan B, right?”
Tank and his two buddies slowly shook their heads. Arthur stared for a ten count before he started to chuckle. He sensed the movement beside him before he saw it. He was on his feet in a second, Blue Eyes’ gun in his face. Arthur raised an eyebrow and then occupied himself with straightening his cuffs.
Without looking up, he said, “I can get you out.”
“Shut up, what the fuck do you know?” Davis demanded as he pushed the manager to the floor and stalked toward them.
Before Arthur could speak, the door man hollered, “Camera!”
They all turned toward the doors and near the top, where the blinds didn’t reach, a news station had sent a camera toward them on a long arm. It smacked into the window and crashed to the ground, but Arthur knew that they got enough coverage to get a basic idea of who and where they all were.
Arthur ran his hand over his hair and turned on Blue Eyes. “You know what that was? That was ALL OF US ON CAMERA! Already streaming on the news. Fucking incompetent ASSHOLES!”
Blue Eyes repaid the observation by hitting Arthur in the stomach, again. Arthur attacked him. He was bigger than Arthur, broader, but Arthur had sparred with Eames enough to drop this amateur with an elbow to the face and his foot right above his knee. The snapping and pained howl was beyond satisfying.
It was over in three seconds and Arthur looked up to see five guns on him to his one on Blue Eyes. “All tied up then,” he quipped and fisted his fingers into Blue Eyes’ collar.
Blue Eyes was making animal sounds at his feet and Arthur shoved the gun into his neck. Davis was closest, gun trained on Arthur, and he could feel the Door man working his way closer.
“What’s the plan, boys?” Arthur asked and ignored everyone but Tank. The other man looked around, sweat on his brow. He was cracking and Arthur was well aware of the significance of the weakest link. It helped that Tank’s two buddies seemed to back him. Arthur snapped his head around to Door Man and yanked Blue Eye’s hair. He groaned, wiggling to free himself before he moved his knee. Then he screamed.
“Get over here where I can see you,” Arthur said and shifted backward, keeping everyone in his sight.
“You said, you said you could get us out.”
Arthur sighed before looking at Tank. “I could have. I could have given you three different escape routes. God, given the chance, I could have pulled off this stupid, fucking shit job without needing an escape route.”
Tank looked hopeful and for just a second, Arthur’s face twisted into something like pity. “I said I could get Blue Eyes out… and maybe his Door Buddy. You four were fucked from the word go. Unless someone handled the cameras?”
More blank stares.
“Let me see if I have this straight. Fuckwit here says ‘we should rob a bank’. He’s got a pretty good idea, setting you all at different locations, covering the branch. It’s actually a good move. Maybe he talked about yelling threats, waving some guns, getting Ms. Manager to open the vault. Up ‘til this point it’s not the most ideal plan, but typical. Classic even. However, there’s no alternative escape route and unless you four have other identities set up, you’ll never make it out of the state.”
Tank and his buddies glared at Blue Eyes while Davis and the Door Man looked at him for direction. Blue Eyes just clutched at his dislocated knee, his whole body trembling in Arthur’s hold.
“What now? What the fuck now?!” Davis screamed.
His answer was cut off by the shrill ring of Arthur’s phone. Britney Spears ‘Oops, I Did It Again’ echoed throughout the branch.
“Oops,” Arthur said, “Did I forget to toss mine?” He reached into his pocket and brought the phone to his ear.
“Welcome home.”
“Arthur! It is good to be home. I will admit to some disappointment that you aren’t in the back of this gorgeous limo with me, however.”
“Yes, I was delayed.”
Eames laughed in his ear. A new surge of annoyance at this whole situation roared inside him. He should have been there in person to hear Eames laugh.
“It’s fine. I have the telly to distract me. You won’t believe what’s running on every channel. No, don’t guess, I’ll just tell you, shall I?”
“Eames…”
“A good, old fashioned bank robbery! With masks, and guns, and hostages!”
“Oh my,” Arthur said dryly and slammed the butt of the rifle into the back of Blue Eyes head when he started to move. He fell to the floor unconscious and Door man gasped and moved forward. Arthur leveled the gun at his heart and shook his head in warning.
“Stay,” he mouthed silently.
“One of the hostages looks a bit like you, darling. Well, you, if you let some fuckwit hit you in the goddamn face.” Eames’ voice dropped dangerously. “Since when do you let yourself be taken down by a gaggle of morons?”
“Six to one, Eames.”
“Pish-posh!” Eames dismissed flippantly. “Listen, love. I’m parked outside. I’m tired and lonely. I missed you quite desperately. Maybe you could wrap this up, hmm?”
Arthur didn’t say anything and shifted his gaze to each of the five remaining men.
“There are so many, many naughty things I want to do, Arthur,” Eames purred into Arthur’s ear.
It wasn’t a rage blackout, per say, but the result was nearly identical.
Arthur didn’t say anything as he pocketed the phone and addressed the room at large. “My ride is here.”
With his next breath he slammed the butt of the gun into Door Man’s face and ducked, kicking out one leg that brought Davis crashing to the ground. He hopped up and kicked Door Man in the head, knocking him out before he ground his foot into the hand Davis had stupidly reached out to grab Arthur’s ankle with.
Bones crushed beneath his heel but he didn’t even acknowledge the scream before he was pointing the gun at Tank. “Don’t.”
One of his buddies moved and Arthur twitched the gun to the side and fired. The glass next to Tank’s head exploded and he moved the gun an inch more, before calmly firing again. The man to Tank’s left screamed, dropping his gun and clutched at his arm. “I said, don’t.”
Tank threw his gun down and the action was followed immediately by the last two.
Behind him, Arthur heard the doors crash in and he dropped his own gun, before he thrust his hands in the air. Men in black SWAT uniforms flooded around him and filled the room. Arthur heard the angry shouts of the officers and the relieved cheers of the rescued.
Someone pressed up behind him. He immediately tensed but then…
“Well done, Special Agent Jenkins.”
Suddenly all he could hear was the warm English accent he’s missed for two months. He turned and there was Eames, cock-sure smile on his face. He grabbed Arthur’s elbow and maneuvered him toward the door. A man in a tie stepped in front of them at on the sidewalk.
“Agent Jenkins,” he said warmly and offered his hand to Arthur. Arthur shook it and nodded his head slowly, still feeling out his role in Eames’ impromptu play. “I’m Detective Johnson. Your partner was just telling us all about you. We were lucky to have a man on the inside. Shitty way to spend your lunch break, but we appreciate your service.”
Arthur spared a glance at Eames, whose expression was suddenly serious and all ‘Company Business’. “You’re welcome, sir. Glad I could help. Didn’t get what I came in for done.” He smiled, nothing extravagant, like he was sharing a joke. The detective ate it up.
“Isn’t that the shit?”
Arthur chuckled with him and Eames cleared his throat. “If you’ll excuse us, Detective. I’d like to get Jenkins checked out at the hospital. I don’t see any reason his eyewitness account can’t be submitted later today?”
“No, no,” Johnson said but his attention was on several officers pushing Blue Eyes out of the building. “That’s fine. I know you’re busy. Thanks again.”
Arthur nodded once more and Eames held onto his elbow and led him leisurely around the side of the building.
“Agent Jenkins?” Arthur asked after Eames pushed him into the limo and settled beside him.
The car started moving and Eames huffed. “There was no way in bloody hell I was going to wait for you to be questioned, and then possibly arrested depending on what ID you’re carrying, and then having to orchestrate a jail break. So much work, darling, and I’m tired.” The last word was nothing but a whine. “And you made promises, Arthur! Filthy, delicious promises. I have needs!”
Arthur laughed and leaned against Eames’ side. Eames twisted and yanked him closer by his tie. The resulting kiss was harsh and demanding, teeth and tongues and growls, and Arthur shifted until he was straddling Eames in the seat. He grinned down at Eames, holding his face between his hands in a way that was more possessiveness than caress and licked at Eames’ lower lip, red and swollen already.
With a grin, Arthur pressed their mouths together, rocking his hips, and hummed the tune from this morning into his mouth.
“Zippity-do-dah, zippity day, my, oh, my, what a wonderful day…”
Fandom: Inception
Pairing: ArthurxEames
Rating: PG-13, I guess
Word Count: ~3000
Warnings: Language, violence, unbeta’d
Summary: The shit thing about the whole incident was that the day had started out brilliant.
Author’s Note: Written for inception_kink for the following amazing prompt. Arthur is taken hostage unrelated to any jobs he's worked. The bank he's in is held up, the train/plane he's on is hijacked, etc. Everyone else is freaking out, Arthur is just annoyed.I just want Arthur, the worst hostage ever. And if he decides he's had enough and is going to rescue himself, and maybe everyone else, by being a BAMF, that would be fabulous.
Disclaimer: I do not own Inception or it characters. This is a work of fiction, and I make no profit from it. Also, mature content means mature. Go figure.
Zippity-Do-Dah
The shit thing about the whole incident was that the day had started out brilliant. Arthur had high hopes for today. He might have even whistled in the shower, mumbling a few bars of ‘Zippity-do-dah, zippity-day’.
Hell, he might have been humming it through the brewing of his favorite Kopi Luwak coffee and over the morning crossword and as he tightened his patterned blue tie, buttoned his gray waistcoat, and tied his expensive shoes.
He left the apartment practically walking on air and yes, he realized that coining that phrase might imply that he was a fifteen year-old girl, but dammit, who the fuck cares?
Two months! And finally Eames was on a plane, even as Arthur was strolling down the street, Eames was finally on the way home.
Arthur only had to run a few errands and then he intended to meet Eames at the airport because fuck all if he could be bothered to wait until Eames made it across town to their apartment. Oh no, the moment Eames landed at La Guardia was the moment that Arthur intended to start his welcome home in the back of their waiting limo.
First though, he needed to stop at the bank. It had been such a long time since he’d conducted any business that he couldn’t handle electronically that he was surprised when he pushed open the heavy glass doors to see a line waiting for the tellers.
He only needed access to his safe deposit box, but even the sitting area was crowded. Arthur stood still, under the vaulted ceilings and between two tall, white pillars, and considered his time table. Even as he thought, his fingers drummed against his thigh and his mouth kept twitching, nearly unable to contain the smile he’d been wearing all morning. Well, that was that.
Mental debate concluded, Arthur sighed and started to turn on his heel. This could wait. He’d much rather be a few minutes early than stuck here and miss Eames. He nodded his head, silently congratulating himself on the best course of action, and a genuine smile curled his lips.
Sadly, instead of pushing his way out of the doors, he watched them yanked open by two men in masks with guns, ordering everyone on the ground.
Given his current mood, it shouldn’t be much of a surprise that Arthur didn’t get down. He didn’t scream or whimper with his face pressed into the cool granite, either. He didn’t even flinch.
No, when two fuckwits decided that today… the day Eames was finally coming home, the day that Arthur was going to have sex that didn’t include his phone on speaker and his own damn hand… was a fine day to rob a bank, Arthur turned, his face the very definition of extremely annoyed and snapped, “Are you fucking kidding me?”
It’s a testament to just how angry Arthur was, his vision doing that thing when it gets all tunneled and later Eames tells him that his ‘rage blackouts’ are actually quite adorable, that he didn’t even anticipate the butt end of fuckwit’s rifle until it slammed into his face.
“Not kidding,” the man growled and Arthur grunted through the pain, spitting blood on the floor.
“Right,” he said to the floor, rubbing at the side of his face and biting down on his cheek, because ow… fucking ow.
He took a moment to scan the room and see that the two masked men weren’t the only ones involved. His personal tormentor loomed in front of him and the second masked man was at the door yanking down the blinds and locking the doors. All three tellers were standing with guns in their faces and the manager was being lead out onto the main floor by a sixth man.
“Get on the ground, asshole!” The command was followed by a series of shots into the ceiling and a spattering of terrified cries from the other innocent people who probably had shit on their to-do lists just like Arthur. Maybe more, since Arthur’s list just had ‘EAMES’.
“Look, calm the fuck down,” Arthur said and wiped at the blood on his cheek with the back of his hand. “Obviously you have plans for today, and I actually have no intention of getting in your way, but, regardless, you really don’t need me on the ground. We all just want to get on with our day.”
The fuckwit stepped close enough that Arthur could see the crystal blue of his eyes and smell his cheap shampoo. His eyes were cold, his determination clear, but Arthur had seen worse. Arthur was worse.
Whatever the man saw reflected in Arthur’s eyes, he misread it, because instead of backing off, he barked, “Davis!” The dark-haired man holding the manager forced the middle-aged woman to her knees and yanked her head back by her hair, gun pressed like a brand to her temple.
It took everything Arthur had not to roll his eyes. “So, you are going to shoot the bank manager, then? Smart move. That’ll teach me.”
Blue-eyes, obviously not happy with Arthur’s response, retaliated by trying for another hit with the butt of his gun. Arthur sidestepped, slapping the gun away with one hand, and yanked the man’s other hand up, twisting.
Another gunshot rung out and they both froze. One of the men at the teller counter had pulled a blonde-haired little girl toward him, her mother sobbing on the floor. The man was built like a tank, short and stout. His smile was more of an ugly grimace as he held the squirming girl and Arthur slowly released Blue Eyes’ hand and stepped back.
“Don’t,” he warned softly and Tank shrugged.
“What are you, some kinda hero?”
Arthur closed his eyes and fisted his hands at his sides. Jesus, as if this whole situation weren’t fucked, now he had to tolerate lame-ass clichés as well?
“No, I’m really not.”
Blue Eyes kicked him in the back of the knee. Arthur crashed to the ground, but the change in position didn’t do anything to weaken the warning glare he sent at Tank.
“Cop then? Fed?”
Arthur rolled his eyes. “No fed on the planet could afford this suit,” he mumbled bitterly. He jerked his attention from Tank and looked at Blue Eyes. “Let the girl go.”
The girl, no more than five and so, so similar to Phillipa that Arthur felt the rage blackout knocking, whimpered. Her mother scrambled to hold her hand. “Mia, baby, it’s okay.”
“I’m on the ground. I’m not getting up. Let. Her. Go.”
No one moved. Arthur snapped his head back to Tank. “Just how long do you think you have? Surely you’ve done some research. I wager response time is less than five minutes and although I’m impressed with your coverage, and I’m sure none of the employees have triggered the alarm, none of you have taken our phones. I’d ask for a show of hands for who has dialed 911, but I think you get my point.”
Davis, still holding the manager, cursed. “Fuck!”
Arthur’s smile is cruel. “Yeah.”
On cue, emergency sirens filled the air.
The six men stared at Arthur who shrugged and raised his voice. “Ladies and gentlemen, we are currently being held hostage. The police are outside and the ‘plan’ if there ever was one… Jesus,” Arthur paused, and shook his head disgusted, “…is currently shot to hell. We all need to stay calm and cater to the idiots with the guns. In the interest of preserving our lives, please take out all of your phones and electronic devices and slide them towards me and Blue Eyes here.”
The terrified hostages moved slowly, doing what Arthur said and the three fuckwits at the teller counter started to yell, demanding all the phones, like it was their idea, like they should have done immediately.
Arthur watched Tank release Mia who was immediately wrapped up in her mother’s arms. He wasn’t surprised when Blue Eyes kicked him brutally in the kidney. He fell forward onto his hands and breathed heavily. “Second time, asshole,” Arthur hissed. “You know what they say about the third strike?”
Blue Eyes growled and made to move at Arthur again when the masked man at the door shouted, “Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck! They got cops and SWAT and fucking news vans.”
Arthur sat back on his heels. “Right, so that brings us to Plan B?”
Silence. Arthur looked around. The twenty-so hostages had been corralled against one wall after the phone roundup. The manager was still on her knees and Arthur and Blue-Eyes, in the middle of the lobby, held everyone’s attention.
“There is a Plan B, right?”
Tank and his two buddies slowly shook their heads. Arthur stared for a ten count before he started to chuckle. He sensed the movement beside him before he saw it. He was on his feet in a second, Blue Eyes’ gun in his face. Arthur raised an eyebrow and then occupied himself with straightening his cuffs.
Without looking up, he said, “I can get you out.”
“Shut up, what the fuck do you know?” Davis demanded as he pushed the manager to the floor and stalked toward them.
Before Arthur could speak, the door man hollered, “Camera!”
They all turned toward the doors and near the top, where the blinds didn’t reach, a news station had sent a camera toward them on a long arm. It smacked into the window and crashed to the ground, but Arthur knew that they got enough coverage to get a basic idea of who and where they all were.
Arthur ran his hand over his hair and turned on Blue Eyes. “You know what that was? That was ALL OF US ON CAMERA! Already streaming on the news. Fucking incompetent ASSHOLES!”
Blue Eyes repaid the observation by hitting Arthur in the stomach, again. Arthur attacked him. He was bigger than Arthur, broader, but Arthur had sparred with Eames enough to drop this amateur with an elbow to the face and his foot right above his knee. The snapping and pained howl was beyond satisfying.
It was over in three seconds and Arthur looked up to see five guns on him to his one on Blue Eyes. “All tied up then,” he quipped and fisted his fingers into Blue Eyes’ collar.
Blue Eyes was making animal sounds at his feet and Arthur shoved the gun into his neck. Davis was closest, gun trained on Arthur, and he could feel the Door man working his way closer.
“What’s the plan, boys?” Arthur asked and ignored everyone but Tank. The other man looked around, sweat on his brow. He was cracking and Arthur was well aware of the significance of the weakest link. It helped that Tank’s two buddies seemed to back him. Arthur snapped his head around to Door Man and yanked Blue Eye’s hair. He groaned, wiggling to free himself before he moved his knee. Then he screamed.
“Get over here where I can see you,” Arthur said and shifted backward, keeping everyone in his sight.
“You said, you said you could get us out.”
Arthur sighed before looking at Tank. “I could have. I could have given you three different escape routes. God, given the chance, I could have pulled off this stupid, fucking shit job without needing an escape route.”
Tank looked hopeful and for just a second, Arthur’s face twisted into something like pity. “I said I could get Blue Eyes out… and maybe his Door Buddy. You four were fucked from the word go. Unless someone handled the cameras?”
More blank stares.
“Let me see if I have this straight. Fuckwit here says ‘we should rob a bank’. He’s got a pretty good idea, setting you all at different locations, covering the branch. It’s actually a good move. Maybe he talked about yelling threats, waving some guns, getting Ms. Manager to open the vault. Up ‘til this point it’s not the most ideal plan, but typical. Classic even. However, there’s no alternative escape route and unless you four have other identities set up, you’ll never make it out of the state.”
Tank and his buddies glared at Blue Eyes while Davis and the Door Man looked at him for direction. Blue Eyes just clutched at his dislocated knee, his whole body trembling in Arthur’s hold.
“What now? What the fuck now?!” Davis screamed.
His answer was cut off by the shrill ring of Arthur’s phone. Britney Spears ‘Oops, I Did It Again’ echoed throughout the branch.
“Oops,” Arthur said, “Did I forget to toss mine?” He reached into his pocket and brought the phone to his ear.
“Welcome home.”
“Arthur! It is good to be home. I will admit to some disappointment that you aren’t in the back of this gorgeous limo with me, however.”
“Yes, I was delayed.”
Eames laughed in his ear. A new surge of annoyance at this whole situation roared inside him. He should have been there in person to hear Eames laugh.
“It’s fine. I have the telly to distract me. You won’t believe what’s running on every channel. No, don’t guess, I’ll just tell you, shall I?”
“Eames…”
“A good, old fashioned bank robbery! With masks, and guns, and hostages!”
“Oh my,” Arthur said dryly and slammed the butt of the rifle into the back of Blue Eyes head when he started to move. He fell to the floor unconscious and Door man gasped and moved forward. Arthur leveled the gun at his heart and shook his head in warning.
“Stay,” he mouthed silently.
“One of the hostages looks a bit like you, darling. Well, you, if you let some fuckwit hit you in the goddamn face.” Eames’ voice dropped dangerously. “Since when do you let yourself be taken down by a gaggle of morons?”
“Six to one, Eames.”
“Pish-posh!” Eames dismissed flippantly. “Listen, love. I’m parked outside. I’m tired and lonely. I missed you quite desperately. Maybe you could wrap this up, hmm?”
Arthur didn’t say anything and shifted his gaze to each of the five remaining men.
“There are so many, many naughty things I want to do, Arthur,” Eames purred into Arthur’s ear.
It wasn’t a rage blackout, per say, but the result was nearly identical.
Arthur didn’t say anything as he pocketed the phone and addressed the room at large. “My ride is here.”
With his next breath he slammed the butt of the gun into Door Man’s face and ducked, kicking out one leg that brought Davis crashing to the ground. He hopped up and kicked Door Man in the head, knocking him out before he ground his foot into the hand Davis had stupidly reached out to grab Arthur’s ankle with.
Bones crushed beneath his heel but he didn’t even acknowledge the scream before he was pointing the gun at Tank. “Don’t.”
One of his buddies moved and Arthur twitched the gun to the side and fired. The glass next to Tank’s head exploded and he moved the gun an inch more, before calmly firing again. The man to Tank’s left screamed, dropping his gun and clutched at his arm. “I said, don’t.”
Tank threw his gun down and the action was followed immediately by the last two.
Behind him, Arthur heard the doors crash in and he dropped his own gun, before he thrust his hands in the air. Men in black SWAT uniforms flooded around him and filled the room. Arthur heard the angry shouts of the officers and the relieved cheers of the rescued.
Someone pressed up behind him. He immediately tensed but then…
“Well done, Special Agent Jenkins.”
Suddenly all he could hear was the warm English accent he’s missed for two months. He turned and there was Eames, cock-sure smile on his face. He grabbed Arthur’s elbow and maneuvered him toward the door. A man in a tie stepped in front of them at on the sidewalk.
“Agent Jenkins,” he said warmly and offered his hand to Arthur. Arthur shook it and nodded his head slowly, still feeling out his role in Eames’ impromptu play. “I’m Detective Johnson. Your partner was just telling us all about you. We were lucky to have a man on the inside. Shitty way to spend your lunch break, but we appreciate your service.”
Arthur spared a glance at Eames, whose expression was suddenly serious and all ‘Company Business’. “You’re welcome, sir. Glad I could help. Didn’t get what I came in for done.” He smiled, nothing extravagant, like he was sharing a joke. The detective ate it up.
“Isn’t that the shit?”
Arthur chuckled with him and Eames cleared his throat. “If you’ll excuse us, Detective. I’d like to get Jenkins checked out at the hospital. I don’t see any reason his eyewitness account can’t be submitted later today?”
“No, no,” Johnson said but his attention was on several officers pushing Blue Eyes out of the building. “That’s fine. I know you’re busy. Thanks again.”
Arthur nodded once more and Eames held onto his elbow and led him leisurely around the side of the building.
“Agent Jenkins?” Arthur asked after Eames pushed him into the limo and settled beside him.
The car started moving and Eames huffed. “There was no way in bloody hell I was going to wait for you to be questioned, and then possibly arrested depending on what ID you’re carrying, and then having to orchestrate a jail break. So much work, darling, and I’m tired.” The last word was nothing but a whine. “And you made promises, Arthur! Filthy, delicious promises. I have needs!”
Arthur laughed and leaned against Eames’ side. Eames twisted and yanked him closer by his tie. The resulting kiss was harsh and demanding, teeth and tongues and growls, and Arthur shifted until he was straddling Eames in the seat. He grinned down at Eames, holding his face between his hands in a way that was more possessiveness than caress and licked at Eames’ lower lip, red and swollen already.
With a grin, Arthur pressed their mouths together, rocking his hips, and hummed the tune from this morning into his mouth.
“Zippity-do-dah, zippity day, my, oh, my, what a wonderful day…”