Some Times In Which Arthur’s Sex Life Made Interpersonal Relations with the Heist Team...
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You know what’s fun? Making Arthur uncomfortable without making him sexually repressed. :grin:
DICK JOKES. DICK JOKES FOR EVERYONE.
Title: Some Times In Which Arthur’s Sex Life Made Interpersonal Relations with the Heist Team Indisputably Awkward, and their Sundry Repercussions
Author: Mithrigil
Fandom: Inception
Characters: Arthur; Mal, Dom, Eames, Ariadne, Yusuf, Saitoh.
Words: 1500
Rating: R. More explication than explicitness.
Warnings: Mood whiplash, dick jokes, and references to Brian Blessed.
Summary: The title is your summary.
Some Times In Which Arthur’s Sex Life Made Interpersonal Relations with the Heist Team Indisputably Awkward, and their Sundry Repercussions
inception
I. Cheating
Arthur rehearses the following in front of the workshop’s bathroom mirror:
“Dom? Your wife just went down on me.”
It’s not right. He tries again.
“Dom, your projection of your wife just went down on me. In dreams. I mean in my dreams. I mean in one very specific dream.”
That’s not just not right, it’s juvenile. Arthur runs cold water over his hand and slicks back his hair again, looks himself in the eye, and tries:
“Dom, your projection of your dead wife just went down on me. And she shot me before I could come.”
While that is certainly true, Arthur can’t keep a straight face. It sounds absurd even to him. It really shouldn’t sound absurd, given that it actually happened, and that is one place Arthur never wanted to feel phantom pain. Nevertheless, he keeps laughing until it gets out of his system, leaning on the sink for support. He takes a deep breath, and says, adding only what he thinks the phrase needs:
“Dom, your subconscious projection of your dead wife just went down on me, and she shot me in the balls before I could come. I think we need to discuss this.”
There. About five more times and it should feel like a line from a script, And Arthur will be able to deliver it with the precision of a bullet to the head. Or, well. Elsewhere.
So he repeats it, more than five times for good measure-it’s just two sentences, after all-and gives himself one more look in the mirror before he leaves the bathroom. He has enough of his wits about him to make sure Dom is alone when he says this; Dom is, in fact, alone in the backroom, picking the needles out of the PASIV and dropping them in their requisite little red biohazard box.
“Dom,” Arthur starts-
“How are you holding up?”
“-your subconscious projection of your dead wife just went down on me and shot me in the balls before I could come.” There. And he says it right to Dom’s face, looking him in the eyes, and not laughing, not even nervously.
...From the way Dom’s looking at him, though, perhaps Arthur could have said it a bit less matter-of-factly.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, Dom, I’m sure. I think we need to discuss this.”
Dom’s eyes squint in, like he’s trying to keep something behind them.
Arthur takes a deep breath and raises his eyebrows. “I think you need to get your subconscious desires under control.”
“This is not because I desire you,” Dom says, a little too defensively for his own good.
Arthur didn’t mean to think this was amusing, but he does feel a smile at the corner of his lips, just a little. It’s absurd, truly absurd. “You don’t have to tell me that. I know, it’s just her way of saying ‘get out of my husband’s head’.”
“By giving you some.”
“Right.”
Dom’s lower lip quavers. Between that and the near-beadiness of his eyes Dom looks as if he’s about to shoot a harpoon out of his forehead. Instead, he turns away from Arthur and storms out of the backroom and into the main workshop, where everybody else is lounging on the lawnchairs, awake and probably not talking about work.
He rails, at the top of his lungs so that it echoes off the skylights:
“Is there anyone in France who has not had sex with my dead wife?”
For a moment, there remains only that echo, the glass thrumming with a shout very much like the walls of a dream.
Then Eames raises his hand.
Wait.
“Eames?”
“I’m not her type,” he says. “Lord knows I tried.”
-
II: Totems
“No,” Arthur says, “something a little less static. There should be a kind of motion to it. Like that thing about books, how you can’t read a book in dreams that you’ve never seen in real life.”
Yusuf nods thoughtfully.
“I’ve got a much better idea,” Eames interrupts, and gets on his knees with his head between Arthur’s legs.
Arthur, being Arthur, goes with his instincts and attempts to break Eames’ neck with his thighs. It nearly works. Nearly. Eames is a slippery bastard.
Yusuf stares.
Arthur glares at him until he’s stopped staring.
“What?” Eames asks, incorrigible. “It’s not as if you’ve ever seen the underside.”
Arthur sputters. No, no he does not sputter.
“And you said it has to have a kind of motion to it, something unique, something...” he taps his lower lip with his fingers, the asshole, “...significant.”
“I did not say that.”
“Oh, but you implied it.”
“Eames-”
“Unless someone else knows it better than I do. Does anyone know it better than I do? Pet? I don’t think even you know it that well, if you did you’d use it more often.”
Dom and Yusuf are lucky enough to be able to pretend this conversation never happened. Dom, evidently, finds the ceiling quite compelling. Yusuf is whistling Je ne regrette rien through his teeth.
Ariadne coughs. “So, um. ...Would it be appropriate as a totem?”
Dom speaks up before Arthur can answer. “Only if it fits in your pocket.”
-
III: Recent Findings
Yusuf calls them all into the lab, but tells Ariadne that she can stay up front and work on her model. She shrugs, but Yusuf is terse enough in the jaw that it actually gives Ariadne visible pause. Arthur’s still wondering why when Yusuf pulls up a chaise and tells Dom, Eames, and Arthur to sit down.
“It has come to my attention,” Yusuf begins, “based on a recent journal article, that one of the sedative components of the new compound I am formulating has some...possible adverse effects on, er. Male health.”
Arthur raises his eyebrows and loosens his tie.
Yusuf continues, undaunted: “So it is probably for the best that you all monitor your erectile function. Especially Arthur, who I have been testing the compound on the most.”
Arthur lowers his eyebrows.
Eames asks, “Right now?”
-
IV: A Kiss is Just a Kiss?
“So,” Ariadne says. “Are your lips always that dry?”
Arthur never knows what to make of Ariadne. Well, it’s not as if it’s inappropriate for the two of them to associate, she’s not young or anything, she’s twenty-two, he’s twenty-seven, if they hadn’t met for the purpose of engaging in criminal activity it probably would have been at some socially acceptable function, like a Starbucks, or a conference, but then again if Arthur hadn’t met her as part of an extremely illegal measure he probably wouldn’t have run in the same circles at all, it’s not as if Arthur doesn’t appreciate art and architecture but their styles don’t quite mesh and while that’s something immensely attractive about her, like how tiny she is, it’s also something that always makes Arthur think twice about her, also like how tiny she is, and it’s really unsettling how tiny she is with all that energy and creativity and no wonder she dreams so big and dreams so well, he’s frankly a little bit jealous or he would be if he wasn’t better suited to what he’s better suited to but the fact remains that they have very little in common except the mission.
Still.
“I think it might have been the effect of your environment,” he answers. “You might want to make it more humid when we build it for Fischer.”
She just looks at him.
He watches her for the rest of the afternoon and waits for her to hear the innuendo. Also, he buys Chapstick.
-
V: Professional Courtesy
“Saitoh?”
“Arthur, you continue to mispronounce my name.”
-oh. Fine. “Saitoh,” he starts again, leaning on the edge of the hotel bar and taking a moment to turn the French vowels in his head off, “an associate of yours was waiting in my hotel room-”
“Oh, good, you have met Keiko.”
“-and she implied a great deal about what you wanted her to do to me.”
“Were you pleased with her services?”
“Saitoh, you sent me a whore.”
“Arthur, you continue to mispronounce my name.”
“A whore, Saitoh.”
“I thought you might want to relax before we flew to Los Angeles in the morning,” Saitoh says, smiling warmly.
“I did.”
“Then were you pleased with her services?”
Arthur doesn’t answer.
The bartender asks Arthur if he wants something to drink.
Arthur answers.
Eames cheers and waves from the other end of the bar. “Oh, smashing, it’s working! How’s your erectile function, pet?”
“Better than yours is going to be when I punch you in the dick.”
The television over the bar seems quite loud.
Arthur had forgotten when it feels like to be stared at by an entire bar full of people in reality.
Saitoh sips his drink and offers Arthur the seat beside him. “A pity. Tadashi said that Mr. Eames’ erectile function was enviable.”
-
---
-
.
You know what’s fun? Making Arthur uncomfortable without making him sexually repressed. :grin:
DICK JOKES. DICK JOKES FOR EVERYONE.
Title: Some Times In Which Arthur’s Sex Life Made Interpersonal Relations with the Heist Team Indisputably Awkward, and their Sundry Repercussions
Author: Mithrigil
Fandom: Inception
Characters: Arthur; Mal, Dom, Eames, Ariadne, Yusuf, Saitoh.
Words: 1500
Rating: R. More explication than explicitness.
Warnings: Mood whiplash, dick jokes, and references to Brian Blessed.
Summary: The title is your summary.
Some Times In Which Arthur’s Sex Life Made Interpersonal Relations with the Heist Team Indisputably Awkward, and their Sundry Repercussions
inception
I. Cheating
Arthur rehearses the following in front of the workshop’s bathroom mirror:
“Dom? Your wife just went down on me.”
It’s not right. He tries again.
“Dom, your projection of your wife just went down on me. In dreams. I mean in my dreams. I mean in one very specific dream.”
That’s not just not right, it’s juvenile. Arthur runs cold water over his hand and slicks back his hair again, looks himself in the eye, and tries:
“Dom, your projection of your dead wife just went down on me. And she shot me before I could come.”
While that is certainly true, Arthur can’t keep a straight face. It sounds absurd even to him. It really shouldn’t sound absurd, given that it actually happened, and that is one place Arthur never wanted to feel phantom pain. Nevertheless, he keeps laughing until it gets out of his system, leaning on the sink for support. He takes a deep breath, and says, adding only what he thinks the phrase needs:
“Dom, your subconscious projection of your dead wife just went down on me, and she shot me in the balls before I could come. I think we need to discuss this.”
There. About five more times and it should feel like a line from a script, And Arthur will be able to deliver it with the precision of a bullet to the head. Or, well. Elsewhere.
So he repeats it, more than five times for good measure-it’s just two sentences, after all-and gives himself one more look in the mirror before he leaves the bathroom. He has enough of his wits about him to make sure Dom is alone when he says this; Dom is, in fact, alone in the backroom, picking the needles out of the PASIV and dropping them in their requisite little red biohazard box.
“Dom,” Arthur starts-
“How are you holding up?”
“-your subconscious projection of your dead wife just went down on me and shot me in the balls before I could come.” There. And he says it right to Dom’s face, looking him in the eyes, and not laughing, not even nervously.
...From the way Dom’s looking at him, though, perhaps Arthur could have said it a bit less matter-of-factly.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, Dom, I’m sure. I think we need to discuss this.”
Dom’s eyes squint in, like he’s trying to keep something behind them.
Arthur takes a deep breath and raises his eyebrows. “I think you need to get your subconscious desires under control.”
“This is not because I desire you,” Dom says, a little too defensively for his own good.
Arthur didn’t mean to think this was amusing, but he does feel a smile at the corner of his lips, just a little. It’s absurd, truly absurd. “You don’t have to tell me that. I know, it’s just her way of saying ‘get out of my husband’s head’.”
“By giving you some.”
“Right.”
Dom’s lower lip quavers. Between that and the near-beadiness of his eyes Dom looks as if he’s about to shoot a harpoon out of his forehead. Instead, he turns away from Arthur and storms out of the backroom and into the main workshop, where everybody else is lounging on the lawnchairs, awake and probably not talking about work.
He rails, at the top of his lungs so that it echoes off the skylights:
“Is there anyone in France who has not had sex with my dead wife?”
For a moment, there remains only that echo, the glass thrumming with a shout very much like the walls of a dream.
Then Eames raises his hand.
Wait.
“Eames?”
“I’m not her type,” he says. “Lord knows I tried.”
-
II: Totems
“No,” Arthur says, “something a little less static. There should be a kind of motion to it. Like that thing about books, how you can’t read a book in dreams that you’ve never seen in real life.”
Yusuf nods thoughtfully.
“I’ve got a much better idea,” Eames interrupts, and gets on his knees with his head between Arthur’s legs.
Arthur, being Arthur, goes with his instincts and attempts to break Eames’ neck with his thighs. It nearly works. Nearly. Eames is a slippery bastard.
Yusuf stares.
Arthur glares at him until he’s stopped staring.
“What?” Eames asks, incorrigible. “It’s not as if you’ve ever seen the underside.”
Arthur sputters. No, no he does not sputter.
“And you said it has to have a kind of motion to it, something unique, something...” he taps his lower lip with his fingers, the asshole, “...significant.”
“I did not say that.”
“Oh, but you implied it.”
“Eames-”
“Unless someone else knows it better than I do. Does anyone know it better than I do? Pet? I don’t think even you know it that well, if you did you’d use it more often.”
Dom and Yusuf are lucky enough to be able to pretend this conversation never happened. Dom, evidently, finds the ceiling quite compelling. Yusuf is whistling Je ne regrette rien through his teeth.
Ariadne coughs. “So, um. ...Would it be appropriate as a totem?”
Dom speaks up before Arthur can answer. “Only if it fits in your pocket.”
-
III: Recent Findings
Yusuf calls them all into the lab, but tells Ariadne that she can stay up front and work on her model. She shrugs, but Yusuf is terse enough in the jaw that it actually gives Ariadne visible pause. Arthur’s still wondering why when Yusuf pulls up a chaise and tells Dom, Eames, and Arthur to sit down.
“It has come to my attention,” Yusuf begins, “based on a recent journal article, that one of the sedative components of the new compound I am formulating has some...possible adverse effects on, er. Male health.”
Arthur raises his eyebrows and loosens his tie.
Yusuf continues, undaunted: “So it is probably for the best that you all monitor your erectile function. Especially Arthur, who I have been testing the compound on the most.”
Arthur lowers his eyebrows.
Eames asks, “Right now?”
-
IV: A Kiss is Just a Kiss?
“So,” Ariadne says. “Are your lips always that dry?”
Arthur never knows what to make of Ariadne. Well, it’s not as if it’s inappropriate for the two of them to associate, she’s not young or anything, she’s twenty-two, he’s twenty-seven, if they hadn’t met for the purpose of engaging in criminal activity it probably would have been at some socially acceptable function, like a Starbucks, or a conference, but then again if Arthur hadn’t met her as part of an extremely illegal measure he probably wouldn’t have run in the same circles at all, it’s not as if Arthur doesn’t appreciate art and architecture but their styles don’t quite mesh and while that’s something immensely attractive about her, like how tiny she is, it’s also something that always makes Arthur think twice about her, also like how tiny she is, and it’s really unsettling how tiny she is with all that energy and creativity and no wonder she dreams so big and dreams so well, he’s frankly a little bit jealous or he would be if he wasn’t better suited to what he’s better suited to but the fact remains that they have very little in common except the mission.
Still.
“I think it might have been the effect of your environment,” he answers. “You might want to make it more humid when we build it for Fischer.”
She just looks at him.
He watches her for the rest of the afternoon and waits for her to hear the innuendo. Also, he buys Chapstick.
-
V: Professional Courtesy
“Saitoh?”
“Arthur, you continue to mispronounce my name.”
-oh. Fine. “Saitoh,” he starts again, leaning on the edge of the hotel bar and taking a moment to turn the French vowels in his head off, “an associate of yours was waiting in my hotel room-”
“Oh, good, you have met Keiko.”
“-and she implied a great deal about what you wanted her to do to me.”
“Were you pleased with her services?”
“Saitoh, you sent me a whore.”
“Arthur, you continue to mispronounce my name.”
“A whore, Saitoh.”
“I thought you might want to relax before we flew to Los Angeles in the morning,” Saitoh says, smiling warmly.
“I did.”
“Then were you pleased with her services?”
Arthur doesn’t answer.
The bartender asks Arthur if he wants something to drink.
Arthur answers.
Eames cheers and waves from the other end of the bar. “Oh, smashing, it’s working! How’s your erectile function, pet?”
“Better than yours is going to be when I punch you in the dick.”
The television over the bar seems quite loud.
Arthur had forgotten when it feels like to be stared at by an entire bar full of people in reality.
Saitoh sips his drink and offers Arthur the seat beside him. “A pity. Tadashi said that Mr. Eames’ erectile function was enviable.”
-
---
-
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