+ Remember When You Loved
Title: Remember When You Loved
Fandom: Inception
Pairing: Arthur/Cobb
Rating: PG
Warnings: Movie spoilers
Length: 1,231 words
Summary: It's something so old and foreign, you don't even realize what it is until it's already happened.
A/N: And so the slashing begins. Hurr. Original prompt is over here.
It’s a warm day in August. The California air is hot and dry, and the sun’s just barely hovering over the horizon. Phillipa and James are playing in the backyard, sitting shoulder to shoulder as they poke at the ground with sticks. From his spot by the door, Dom thinks the scene looks disturbingly like the one before he fled, leaving his two kids behind.
His shoulders tense slightly at the memory, but they turn and laugh, holding up a handful of roly-polies before going back to dig for more of the little bugs. Dom smiles and shakes his head, letting the tension slip out of his body. All the same, his hand reaches into his pocket, and his fingers run against the smooth metal of the top tucked away there. It warms to his touch, and Dom reminds himself: this is real.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” Dom replies, turning and giving the speaker a smile. It’s Arthur, and he’s got two glasses of iced tea in his hands. Dom’s hand leaves his pocket and grabs the proffered drink. His fingers accidentally brush over Arthur’s, and he tries to pass the shiver that runs down his spine as a reaction to the cold of the drink. “Thanks,” he says with a nod. “You know, you’re the guest. I should be the one serving you.”
Arthur shrugs and watches the kids. Dom turns his attention back to his children as well and lets a comfortable silence fall between them.
He takes a sip of the iced tea. Dom notes that it’s a little on the sweet side, which is just the way he likes it. He looks out of the corner of his eye and wonders how Arthur knew, wonders if Mal was the one who told him a long time ago to add more sugar. The point man catches his gaze briefly, one of those rare smiles on his lips, and Dom looks away.
“I never did thank you for letting me stay,” Arthur comments, breaking the silence. Dom shakes his head and looks over again. “You’re always welcome here. You know that.
“Besides, the kids wanted to see you.” And so did I.
Arthur laughs and then drains his glass. “Are you sure it’s me and not the presents?”
“They ask me where Uncle Arthur is all the time.”
This earns Dom another smile, and for a moment, he feels his heart flutter.
Eyes back on his children, he finishes his drink and takes Arthur’s empty glass. “Watch the kids,” is all he says before he disappears into the kitchen. From his vantage point by the sink, Dom watches as Arthur ambles over to where his kids are playing. There’s something vaguely comical about the scene: two children with dirt under their nails and grass stains on their clothes playing with Arthur, who’s all neat lines and sharp angles, even if he’s dressed in his version of casual.
He washes the glasses absentmindedly, gaze still focused on his children and Arthur. They seem to be having an animated discussion, possibly about roly-polies, but from the kitchen, Dom can’t hear anything but their laughter. He smiles; the kids really do love Arthur. Their home always seems a little brighter, a little cozier, when he’s around.
The two glasses are set aside to dry, and Dom dries his own hands off on a towel before heading back to the door. He watches the trio for a moment before walking toward them. “Alright, Phillipa, James,” he says in mock seriousness. “I hope you’re not bothering Uncle Arthur.”
“Uncle Arthur wanted us to tell him about roly-polies!”
“Yeah! He said he never played with them when he was little.”
“Hey, I thought you guys said we’d keep that our little secret,” Arthur grumbles, but there’s a definite warmth to his tone. Dom looks up from his kids to his point man. “Keeping secrets from me, Arthur?”
“Maybe.” There’s another smile on the man’s face. Dom can’t help but grin in turn. Arthur then kneels down to look at the kids at eye level. “You two won’t tell your dad about any of our other secrets, will you?”
Phillipa makes a zipping gesture over her lips, and James shakes his head. Arthur ruffles their hair and stands up. Dom finds himself wondering what that sensation feels like--Arthur’s hand in one’s hair, but an insistent tug at his hand drags him out of that brief thought. James is looking up at him with bright eyes, cheeks pink from excitement and heat. Dom gently pushes the kids toward the door. “You two go wash your hands,” he calls after them. “It’s almost time for dinner.”
The children disappear into the house, giggles trailing after them. Dom looks over at Arthur, who’s looking right back at him. His chest tightens, and he forces himself to exhale nice and slow. “They’ll be sad to see you go.”
He doesn’t let himself think about his own feelings on the matter. It gets a little harder to let Arthur leave each time he drives him to the airport.
“Flight’s in two days, but I can change it if need be.” Arthur’s lips quirk into a smile. “Saito owns the airline after all. It’s no big deal.”
“Stay a little longer then.” I-- “We like having you around.”
He’s surprised at how much his throat has tightened with just that little comment.
Dom’s gaze slips away from Arthur’s and toward the house. He can see a sliver of pink inside; Phillipa’s dancing around in the living room. “If you’ll have me,” Arthur replies. “I don’t want to be a burden.”
“You never are.” Never will be.
James appears at the door a moment later, all smiles. “Dad! Uncle Arthur! Can we eat now? Phillipa and me are hungry!” he says before dashing back in, not even waiting for a response. Arthur laughs and steps toward the house. When he notices that Dom isn’t following, he pauses and looks over his shoulder.
“You coming?”
“Yeah... Just gimme a minute,” Dom finally mumbles after a long pause. Arthur looks at him for a moment, like he’s studying him, trying to read what’s on his mind, but he doesn’t say anything in return. There’s just a small dip of the head, and he’s gone.
Dom turns away from the house and watches as the sun continues its slow journey toward the horizon. He sighs and settles his hand in his pocket, fingers running over his totem. He takes it out, studies it for a moment, and then stuffs it back in place. Dom’s gaze drops to the ground briefly before he’s looking up at the clouds. He shuts his eyes and breathes.
He knows this feeling. It’s old, tucked away in the recesses of his memories. This feeling is something he’s a little surprised to be experiencing again, if he’s honest with himself; it’s strange enough that he barely recognizes the signs. Dom’s reminded of long walks in parks, evenings spent gazing up at stars, soft kisses in the dead of night, and Mal. But those are memories. The things he feels now, familiar and yet totally new, are for someone else entirely.
A smile tugs at the corner of his lips, and he wonders how it came to this, how he came to fall in love with his point man.
Fandom: Inception
Pairing: Arthur/Cobb
Rating: PG
Warnings: Movie spoilers
Length: 1,231 words
Summary: It's something so old and foreign, you don't even realize what it is until it's already happened.
A/N: And so the slashing begins. Hurr. Original prompt is over here.
It’s a warm day in August. The California air is hot and dry, and the sun’s just barely hovering over the horizon. Phillipa and James are playing in the backyard, sitting shoulder to shoulder as they poke at the ground with sticks. From his spot by the door, Dom thinks the scene looks disturbingly like the one before he fled, leaving his two kids behind.
His shoulders tense slightly at the memory, but they turn and laugh, holding up a handful of roly-polies before going back to dig for more of the little bugs. Dom smiles and shakes his head, letting the tension slip out of his body. All the same, his hand reaches into his pocket, and his fingers run against the smooth metal of the top tucked away there. It warms to his touch, and Dom reminds himself: this is real.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” Dom replies, turning and giving the speaker a smile. It’s Arthur, and he’s got two glasses of iced tea in his hands. Dom’s hand leaves his pocket and grabs the proffered drink. His fingers accidentally brush over Arthur’s, and he tries to pass the shiver that runs down his spine as a reaction to the cold of the drink. “Thanks,” he says with a nod. “You know, you’re the guest. I should be the one serving you.”
Arthur shrugs and watches the kids. Dom turns his attention back to his children as well and lets a comfortable silence fall between them.
He takes a sip of the iced tea. Dom notes that it’s a little on the sweet side, which is just the way he likes it. He looks out of the corner of his eye and wonders how Arthur knew, wonders if Mal was the one who told him a long time ago to add more sugar. The point man catches his gaze briefly, one of those rare smiles on his lips, and Dom looks away.
“I never did thank you for letting me stay,” Arthur comments, breaking the silence. Dom shakes his head and looks over again. “You’re always welcome here. You know that.
“Besides, the kids wanted to see you.” And so did I.
Arthur laughs and then drains his glass. “Are you sure it’s me and not the presents?”
“They ask me where Uncle Arthur is all the time.”
This earns Dom another smile, and for a moment, he feels his heart flutter.
Eyes back on his children, he finishes his drink and takes Arthur’s empty glass. “Watch the kids,” is all he says before he disappears into the kitchen. From his vantage point by the sink, Dom watches as Arthur ambles over to where his kids are playing. There’s something vaguely comical about the scene: two children with dirt under their nails and grass stains on their clothes playing with Arthur, who’s all neat lines and sharp angles, even if he’s dressed in his version of casual.
He washes the glasses absentmindedly, gaze still focused on his children and Arthur. They seem to be having an animated discussion, possibly about roly-polies, but from the kitchen, Dom can’t hear anything but their laughter. He smiles; the kids really do love Arthur. Their home always seems a little brighter, a little cozier, when he’s around.
The two glasses are set aside to dry, and Dom dries his own hands off on a towel before heading back to the door. He watches the trio for a moment before walking toward them. “Alright, Phillipa, James,” he says in mock seriousness. “I hope you’re not bothering Uncle Arthur.”
“Uncle Arthur wanted us to tell him about roly-polies!”
“Yeah! He said he never played with them when he was little.”
“Hey, I thought you guys said we’d keep that our little secret,” Arthur grumbles, but there’s a definite warmth to his tone. Dom looks up from his kids to his point man. “Keeping secrets from me, Arthur?”
“Maybe.” There’s another smile on the man’s face. Dom can’t help but grin in turn. Arthur then kneels down to look at the kids at eye level. “You two won’t tell your dad about any of our other secrets, will you?”
Phillipa makes a zipping gesture over her lips, and James shakes his head. Arthur ruffles their hair and stands up. Dom finds himself wondering what that sensation feels like--Arthur’s hand in one’s hair, but an insistent tug at his hand drags him out of that brief thought. James is looking up at him with bright eyes, cheeks pink from excitement and heat. Dom gently pushes the kids toward the door. “You two go wash your hands,” he calls after them. “It’s almost time for dinner.”
The children disappear into the house, giggles trailing after them. Dom looks over at Arthur, who’s looking right back at him. His chest tightens, and he forces himself to exhale nice and slow. “They’ll be sad to see you go.”
He doesn’t let himself think about his own feelings on the matter. It gets a little harder to let Arthur leave each time he drives him to the airport.
“Flight’s in two days, but I can change it if need be.” Arthur’s lips quirk into a smile. “Saito owns the airline after all. It’s no big deal.”
“Stay a little longer then.” I-- “We like having you around.”
He’s surprised at how much his throat has tightened with just that little comment.
Dom’s gaze slips away from Arthur’s and toward the house. He can see a sliver of pink inside; Phillipa’s dancing around in the living room. “If you’ll have me,” Arthur replies. “I don’t want to be a burden.”
“You never are.” Never will be.
James appears at the door a moment later, all smiles. “Dad! Uncle Arthur! Can we eat now? Phillipa and me are hungry!” he says before dashing back in, not even waiting for a response. Arthur laughs and steps toward the house. When he notices that Dom isn’t following, he pauses and looks over his shoulder.
“You coming?”
“Yeah... Just gimme a minute,” Dom finally mumbles after a long pause. Arthur looks at him for a moment, like he’s studying him, trying to read what’s on his mind, but he doesn’t say anything in return. There’s just a small dip of the head, and he’s gone.
Dom turns away from the house and watches as the sun continues its slow journey toward the horizon. He sighs and settles his hand in his pocket, fingers running over his totem. He takes it out, studies it for a moment, and then stuffs it back in place. Dom’s gaze drops to the ground briefly before he’s looking up at the clouds. He shuts his eyes and breathes.
He knows this feeling. It’s old, tucked away in the recesses of his memories. This feeling is something he’s a little surprised to be experiencing again, if he’s honest with himself; it’s strange enough that he barely recognizes the signs. Dom’s reminded of long walks in parks, evenings spent gazing up at stars, soft kisses in the dead of night, and Mal. But those are memories. The things he feels now, familiar and yet totally new, are for someone else entirely.
A smile tugs at the corner of his lips, and he wonders how it came to this, how he came to fall in love with his point man.