Inception: Learning Curve
Title: Learning Curve
Pairing/Characters: Eames/fem!Arthur/Saito, OFC/OMC
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 6,720
Summary: Saito is curious about dream-share. Ms. Arthur is curious about Saito.
A/N: Written for i-reversebang
Bit hard to believe this is all finished at last! Thanks go to quinn-ster for putting up with my frantic beta requests and assuming cheerleader-ing positions with Tony. And, of course, none of this would have happened if it hadn't been for beili and her beautiful art.
Most people, after a near death experience, fought to stay as far away from the thing that had almost been the instrument of their death as possible. There was a reason, after all, that some soldiers returned from war with PTSD or people who survived plane crashes could develop a crippling fear of heights.
But then, Saito had never really been like most people. Which was why when he awoke (at last) back in his seat in the airplane, his first thoughts weren’t of how lucky he was to be alive. Instead all he could think of was the fluid slip between the dreams, the adrenaline rush that came with it, and even the lifetime he had eked out in limbo.
And he wanted to do it again.
---
Arthur isn’t living with Eames per say. He was the one who had invaded her apartment, as it were. Apparently the government in Kenya had finally caught wind of all the various gambling scams and cons he had been running out of the Mombasa. Staying with
Yusuf would draw too much attention to the dream den, so Arthur was the only logical option. Or at least that was how Eames had put it.
So what did it matter that he sometimes repaid her for such generosity by hoisting her up onto the counter to duck between her legs or fuck her into the bed? It wasn’t like it was bad sex.
Besides, Eames made for a pretty good errand boy for when she didn’t feel up to braving the rush of New York City traffic. Although that was hardly a handy thing when the phone went off halfway through her shower.
“I swear to God.” Arthur wrapped a towel loosely around herself, trying not to care about the water she was dripping all across the floor as she darted into the living room to snatch up the phone. Her mood was hardly improved when the caller ID informed her just who was calling. “You better have a damn good reason for calling me right now, Dom.”
There was a momentary pause in which Arthur almost snapped at Dom again and then, “It’s Saito.”
And just like that all of Arthur’s muscles tense as one, senses going on high alert.
“What do you mean? Is he alright?” He had seemed perfectly fine in the airport terminal, almost even jovial as he went around to shake their hands. But Arthur was there for when Mal woke up and knew perfectly well that the side effects of being in limbo didn’t always manifest right away.
Dom must know what has her so worried since he hurries to reply to her. “Yeah, I mean... Well, I think he is, but...” A sigh comes through the line. “He wants to go back under.”
Arthur felt some of the tension easing out of her body. “Oh.” She glanced over at the calendar, brow furrowing. “But it’s only been--”
“A month, yeah.” There’s something tight in Dom’s voice. “Apparently he only waited so long out of ‘decency’.”
“Oh,” Arthur said. “Huh.” She tapped her foot against the floor, inwardly wincing a little when she realized she was basically splashing around in a puddle. “Does he just want to go down for recreation?” It’s not what dream teams are typically hired for, but it’s not unusual. There’s a certain appeal to being able to go under and play out any fantasy you want without any actual risk, after all.
“You could call it that,” Dom said. “According to him it has more to do with exploring the full reaches of dreaming. I told him I couldn’t do it, not just because of the kids, but because he shouldn’t be going under so soon either. He spent a whole lifetime in limbo. He should be trying to recuperate, take in the real world.”
It’s on the tip of Arthur’s tongue to point out that was hardly what Dom did after his stint in limbo, but she refrains. Maybe she could even take this as Dom having learned from his mistakes, although that seemed like a long shot. “So why are you calling to tell me this?” she asked. “Haven’t you already managed to tell him off?”
“I would like to say so,” Dom said, “but he didn’t exactly seem resigned after we talked. So I’m pretty sure he’s going to try making the offer to you next.”
As if his words are some sort of cosmic cue, the phone beeps to inform her that she has a call waiting. The caller ID can’t tell her who the number belongs to, but it’s fairly obvious who it must be.
“I’m going to have to call you back, Dom,” she said, “someone else is trying to get through.”
“If its Saito then don’t give him into him,” Dom cut in quickly. “No matter what he offers you just don’t, okay?”
“I promise to hear what he has to say first,” Arthur said and flicked to the other call before Dom could warn her more. “Hello Mr. Saito.”
“Miss Moss.” Saito didn’t seem the slightest bit surprised that she knew it was him.
“Is Mr. Eames out at the moment? I have a job offer that extends to both of you.”
Knowing what she does about Saito, Arthur really shouldn’t be taken aback that he knew that Eames and her were...having an arrangement. “I can vet the job for the both of us.” At the very least she knew what Eames enjoyed--elaborate schemes and large paychecks, both of which Saito was likely to provide.
“Excellent,” Saito said. “Am I correct to presume that Mr. Cobb has already gotten in contact with you?”
“Yes,” Arthur said. She didn’t add that the point of the call had been to warn her off the job she was about to be offered. If Saito knew that Dom had gotten in contact with her then he probably already knew it had been to forewarn her. “Not to be rude, but are you sure you know what you’re doing? Your first experience with dream share was a little...” She swallowed hard, remembering Saito bleeding out on the floor of the warehouse with nothing any of them could do to fix it. “...tumultuous.”
“Exactly why I want to try again.” Saito took her silence in stride. “Tell me, Miss Moss, have you not been injured on the job? Did you consider quitting dream share after getting by at the skin of your teeth with inception? Or did you enjoy the rush and want to plunge right back in again at the first opportunity.”
He didn’t even bother to phrase the last of a question and Arthur wondered if she was really that transparent or whether Saito was just that good at reading people. She hoped it was the latter. “And what are you offering in exchange?”
Saito’s tone sounded like he knew he had won even before he put up a price that was double what either her or Eames’ standard going rates were. “And inform Eames that if he agrees to tag along then I will make sure to do something about his charges in Kenya.”
Despite herself, Arthur can’t keep from smiling. “You are making quite habit of wiping away government problems, Mr. Saito.”
Saito chuckled. “I make sure to take care of my own.” That had a rush of something shifting down Arthur’s spine before he added, “And I think we are past the use of honorifics by now, don’t you, Arthur?”
Arthur had no idea why the use of her given name should affect her so strongly, but she clutched the phone a little tighter. “Fair enough, Saito.”
Eames bounded back into the apartment after she had squared away the last of the details and hung up the phone. “Now I might have gotten a little exotic with the shopping,” he said, “but I promise that dragon fruit isn’t as hard to cook as it sounds.” He raised his eyebrows as he took in the state of the floor. “My, my, you don’t usually make a mess while I’m out.”
Arthur rolled her eyes towards the ceiling. “Saito interrupted my shower to make a job offer.” She didn’t bother mentioning that Dom had been the first to call. Eames didn’t tend to put much stock in Dom’s words on a good day.
“Did he?” Eames said, mock scandalized. “I hope it was a good offer after he subjected you to such indignity.”
Arthur had to press her lips together so not to laugh. “It was. And if you come join me in the shower then I’ll tell you what it was.”
She was sure she would scold Eames about dropping the bags of groceries on the floor, but at the moment he was doing things with his hands that made it a bit hard to concentrate.
---
Saito, apparently, wasn’t above pulling out the perks for this job. He scheduled a private jet to arrive for them through the airline that was still in his pocket from the inception job. The service was really lovely, but Arthur had almost choked on her complimentary champagne when she was informed that the jet was actually Saito’s favorite.
It was for this reason that she didn’t let Eames sway her into having sex on the plush leather seats.
“But, darling,” Eames bemoaned, “think about the mile high club!”
Arthur snorted derisively. “I’ve already joined that, thank you,” she said. She didn’t
even try to stop the corners of her lips from curling into a small, smug smile at Eames’ surprised look. Sometimes it was a bit disturbing just how much Eames managed to get right about her--something that she didn’t want to examine the reasons behind--so it was good to know she could still get one over on him.
“Who was it?” Eames scrunched up his face. “Please don’t tell me it was Cobb.”
Arthur’s mouth went slack. “Dom?” she exclaimed. “You think it was...” She trailed off, just barely suppressing a full body shudder. “That would never happen. He’s like my brother for Christ’s sake!”
“Ah, so I suppose that limits some of my competition then,” Eames said.
Arthur’s head swiveled towards him at once. “What?”
But the plane had touched down by then, the stewardesses bustling back to check on them, and Eames suddenly became very interested in charming them all until they tittered, insisting on helping him get his bags down.
Arthur had no idea why that should bother her. She did feel a bit sorry for snapping at one of the stewardesses, but not for treading “accidentally” on Eames’ foot when he shot her a knowing look.
Given the style in which they had arrived, Arthur had expected there would be a driver there to collect them. What she hadn’t expected, was that Saito would be the one in the airport waiting for them.
Although his smile was small, it was still a warmer, more genuine version of the one she had seen him sporting in photos in the newspaper and interviews on various TV shows. “My friends.” His grip was firm yet somehow not intimidating as he shook their hands. “I am glad to see you again. I must admit I was half afraid that Mr. Cobb might have talked you out of coming.”
Arthur’s brow furrowed as she realized he was still attaching an honorific to Dom’s name even after telling her that they were beyond that.
Eames cut in before her lapse of silence could be noticed, however. “Oh, Saito,” he said, “you should know by now that I never do what that man tells me.”
Arthur said nothing on that account, not seeing the point. She earned her title as Dom’s right hand by chasing him across the globe in an effort to make sure he didn’t get himself killed. She couldn’t say she didn’t care for him because she always would, yet she felt no pain over letting themselves live their separate lives, especially not after his unexpected betrayal on the inception job.
“Will we be getting straight to work?” she asked instead. She could already feel the lag of the shifting time zones settling into her bones, but she was prepared to shake it off if she had to.
“Not at all,” Saito said. “I know you will need some time to recuperate before we set about our task.”
It didn’t escape Arthur’s notice that he made no mention of having to prepare for the job himself in any way.
---
They wound up being lodged in a suite of rooms right below Saito’s own penthouse and Arthur fell in love with the sleek elegance of it almost instantly.
She ignored the look of fond amusement Eames shot her, flopping down onto the couch. She was nearly in danger of falling asleep right there until Eames plopped down next to her, easing off her shoes so that he could lift her feet up into his lap. She had to bite back a groan as he started to rub his thumbs into the pad of one of her feet.
Her heels were lovely but they did have a tendency to make her feet ache if worn for too long.
“Don’t think this will get you laid tonight,” she said. “I’m too tired for that.”
Eames’ good mood continued on unflagged. “Of course you are, darling,” he said. “I’d be quite content to settle for a cuddle instead.”
Arthur offered up two long blinks before echoing blandly back, “A cuddle.”
“Why not?” Eames said. “We did it all the time back home.”
Arthur managed to school her reaction into a simple lift of her eyebrows, hiding the jolt that ran through her. It would have been a simple sentence if Eames hadn’t referred to her apartment as “home”-the first time he’d ever done such a thing.
Was it supposed to mean something? Had she missed some sort of point?
She didn’t want to probe into all of that right now, though. It was better to keep things light, come up with some teasing response. “This better be the best foot rub of your life.”
“I will do my best to live up to your exacting standards,” Eames swore with mock severity.
He must have succeeded in some way because by the time he was done he had to carry a drowsy Arthur to bed.
---
Arthur was appalled by how late the morning call from the front desk was that morning, but Eames seemed entirely unperturbed by it. “It’s barely even into the afternoon yet, darling,” he said. “And, besides, Saito owns this whole building. I doubt we would have woken up anytime he didn’t want us to.”
Apparently Eames was right-not that Arthur would ever say such a thing out loud-because by the time they got up to Saito’s penthouse there was already a spread clearly meant for brunch spread out across the coffee table in the living room.
Under other circumstances, Arthur might have kicked up a fuss over being nudged into an arrangement without her knowledge, but, honestly, she probably should have seen this coming.
This was a job with Saito of all people, after all. Manipulation was virtually a given.
Still, she did like to work with a schedule when it came to jobs, something that would give a more concentrate way of figuring out how things needed to be planned out. It was one of the many reasons why she was the best at what she did and why she didn’t bother dancing around the subject when she sat down next to Eames on the couch across from Saito’s own.
“So,” she said, “what exactly is our agenda?”
Saito spread out his hands. “It is whatever you choose it to be.” He chuckled as his two visitors raised their eyebrows almost as one. “I did tell you, did I not, that all I wanted was to explore the world of dreams? Whatever you can concoct that would allow me to do that would please me.”
“What about militarization?” Arthur asked. “It might be best if we covered that as well.”
A small furrow appeared on Saito’s brow. “Mr. Cobb took care of that on our last venture together.” A soft sound escaped him when Arthur continued to look puzzled. “Ah, my apologies,” he said softly. “I did not realize he had not told you.”
Another secret Dom had decided to keep from her then.
As if he could sense what she was thinking, Eames placed his hand on her knee as he reached over to swipe up some butter for his piece of toast. “Cobb always was a tricky devil.” His voice contained none of the warmth it usually carried when he spoke of such things. Eames tended to like people that could surprise him, but apparently this wasn’t something that carried over to Dom.
As she watched him, Eames spread a layer of jam over the butter that was already on the toast, bringing his eyes back to Saito as he passed the toast over to Arthur. She took it without even thinking about it, only feeling a prickling, heated sensation along the back of her neck when she realized that Saito was looking at them with a hint of fondness in his eyes.
So what if Eames knew just how she liked her toast? They’d been cohabiting for a month now so of course he had picked up on some of her habits. He was a forger, it was what he did naturally.
It was an assumption that only seemed proven when Eames set about filling one of the dainty china cups with coffee, something that he had to be doing for Saito (he and Arthur already had full, steaming cups).
“So you want to just dive in and see what you can see?” Eames said. “I’ll have you know I quite like this adventurous side of you, Saito.” He stirred the coffee once with one of the miniature silver spoons, allowing the milk to settle, before offering it over to Saito.
Saito eyed the cup with a slight measure of trepidation. “I appreciate the gesture,” he said, “but I have very-”
“Very specific tastes when it comes to your coffee,” Eames said. “I know. I was there when you cut down that girl in the café, remember?” He drummed his fingers against the arm of the couch. “You want only a skimming of cream so not to cover the natural flavor, but you prefer to have quite a sprinkling of sugar in there too. Am I right?”
Saito arched a brow instead of answering, lifting the cup to his lips. A small smile settled onto his lips after he swallowed. “Very clever, Eames.” Then, more quietly, “I didn’t realize I had drawn your focus as well.”
“I’m excellent at canvasing my interests,” Eames replied.
Arthur’s eyes flicked rapidly between the two men, trying to figure out what had passed between them. But Saito seemed content to merely sip at his coffee while Eames’ smug smirk didn’t fade even as he snatched up one of the puffed pastries.
“So, now that’s settled, what do you lot say to going under?”
---
Going under with Saito was…interesting. Arthur can’t say for sure what she expected Saito’s subconscious to be like, but there was definitely a part of her that looked at his life and expected something meticulously planned out. Instead she discovered that
Saito’s dreams were almost like what she’d come to expect from Eames’, everything so lush that it managed to play across your senses in a way that could almost convince you the dream was real.
The scrupulous nature came out in the planning. Saito will never be an architect, but he fell into the manipulation of all those straight lines and crafting of paradoxes with ruthless precision.
Sometimes there is some sort of challenge placed down. Saito’s favorite is to see how long he can keep Arthur and Eames away from whatever secrets he placed in his head.
It’s often mundane facts like his favorite color or the sort of American foods he actually can stand.
Over time, though, Arthur started to realize that they were plucking out bits of Saito’s memories, that he was all but allowing them to piece together the man under all those finely tailored suits. It made Arthur feel heady with just how much trust that meant Saito was giving them.
The projections still managed to get them sometimes, of course, but more often than not Saito appeared to finish things, making sure to give them the quickest possible deaths.
The one time that he didn’t, however, Arthur learned that Saito’s projections could be as ruthless as he was and woke up gasping for breath, trying to force her mind to understand that the wounds on her body weren’t real ones.
Eames had been in a similar state at her side, which was proof enough that something had gone wrong since hardly anything managed to ruffle that man’s feathers anymore. Or, at least, if it did he never let it show.
Saito had tugged the IV line out of his wrist and was kneeling between their chairs in seconds, hands going to their foreheads. “I am sorry, my friends,” he had said. “That will never happen again.”
Arthur shouldn’t be surprised that it hadn’t. Saito was a man of his word, after all. But she couldn’t forget the soft steel in his voice, the protective manner that implied a level of possession.
---
Arthur wasn’t sure when she started to lose track of time, but one day she woke up to realize that almost half a month had passed without her realizing it.
Her head was still whirling from it when she sat on the couch later that day, cradling her cellphone to her ear. It wasn’t the first time that Dom had tried to call her; it’s merely the first time she’s picked up.
It wasn’t anything she hadn’t expected. He figured out she took Saito up on his offer when all his calls to the phone in her New York apartment went unanswered. Arthur really wasn’t looking forward to the voicemails waiting for her when she got home. She really wasn’t.
She was only really listening to Dom with one ear anyway since she had only been a few minutes into the call before Eames plopped down on the floor before her, tugging off her heels. She half expected to be on the receiving end of another foot rub, which was why her eyebrows lifted when Eames plucked a bottle of nail polish out of his pocket.
“Don’t fuss, darling,” he said in response to her unspoken question. “We both know this color will go lovely with your new peep toe pumps.” And as Arthur watched the deep red be applied she was inclined to agree with him.
It was actually soothing in a rather rhythmic way to watch the brush swipe over each nail, Eames’ fingers somehow graceful for all their thickness. He had a tendency to swipe his thumb over the heel of her foot with his free hand while he worked as well, an idle touch that almost made her smile.
“Arthur? Are you listening to me?”
Arthur sighed, letting her focus slip back over to Dom. “I am, Dom, but I don’t see what I can do about it now.”
“Convince him to end it,” Dom said.
There was no way Arthur couldn’t laugh at that because Dom sounded like that would actually be easy. “Yeah, that’s not going to happen,” she said.
“Why?” There was something almost sharp in Dom’s words now. “Is the payout really that important to you?”
Arthur didn’t want to show how much those words affected her, but she knew Eames must have been able to feel the way she tensed because he stopped working on her nails, eyes shooting up to her.
“Fuck you, Dom.” Arthur’s voice felt squeezed tight, each word coming out jagged. “You should be glad that Saito has someone actually competent enough to watch after him.”
She could hear Dom sigh and the beginnings of an apologetic sounding, “Arthur…” but she slammed the cellphone shut before she could hear anymore, throwing it down so hard on the couch that it bounced away onto the floor.
Eames didn’t say anything for a few long minutes, but she knew he wouldn’t stay silent forever. “Is that what we’re doing then? Looking after Saito?”
“Eames, don’t. Just…” Arthur sighed heavily, eyes falling shut as she pressed the heels of her hands hard against them. “Just don’t.”
“Alright, Arthur.” Some of the tension managed to slip out of Arthur then when she felt Eames’ lips pressing softly against her ankle before he resumed his work.
There was an overwhelming amount of flowers there to greet her the next morning, for which Eames insisted he couldn’t claim credit. Saito didn’t even attempt not to be obvious about it, suggesting that Arthur show them around the Paris of her memory when they went under that day. And as if she didn’t already realize she was being fussed over, both men insisted on being taken to her favorite restaurant, her favorite of everything.
Arthur might have rolled her eyes at it if the men didn’t manage to be so earnest about it all. It was rather adorable, really.
---
By the time the month was up, Arthur really didn’t know what she was doing. It wasn’t like she didn’t still enjoy the work she was doing, but it seemed like the lines were starting to get blurred. More then once, after the three of them blinked awake, Saito would insist on her and Eames staying for private meals in his penthouse. And then one morning she awoke curled around Eames on the sofa with Saito looking fondly at them.
“It seemed rude to awaken you,” had been his excuse. He had even wrapped a blanket around them.
Eames seemed to take it all in stride, which baffled Arthur. Especially because now Saito had insisted on giving them the night off so that he could take them out to dinner. At a restaurant he very obviously owned if the way the manger arrived to personally escort them to one of the best seats in the house.
It didn’t take long for Arthur to become aware of the looks being shot her way. She could tell almost every person was trying to puzzle out how she was boxed in between two men, measuring her every interaction with each in an attempt to figure out which one she must be with.
It made her want to roll her eyes, that assumption, because, honestly, couldn’t people just accept that a woman could be friends with men? No matter how handsome they were?
Yet, at the same time, the scrutiny made her observe her own actions more closely and there was something in the results that made her skin prickle. It was so easy to reach over the table to rework the knot at Eames’ tie and to turn her head, right in the middle of it, to eat the sushi Saito offered out to her on his chopsticks.
She was pretty sure she heard actual whispers gathering when Saito passed a piece of sushi over to Eames as well after the forger had pouted over being left out.
“Excuse me,” Arthur said, “I have to go to the bathroom.” She toddled off, although not quickly enough to miss the way Saito and Eames exchanged a worried look.
She fumbled with the door handle to the bathroom then darted into it so quickly that she bumped shoulders with someone on their way out.
“Oh!” She just barely managed not to tack on a curse. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t…” Her words slipped away, however, when she turned around.
She had seen this woman before in various TV talks shows and photo shoots staged by sleek, classy magazines. Yet, even more so, Arthur knew her because she had dug up the woman’s wedding photos during the research for the Cobol job.
This was Ami, a woman almost as powerful as her own husband-Saito.
The smile that spread across Ami’s lips was slow and somehow sweet. “No worries, miss, I am sure you did not do such a thing on purpose.” Her eyes flitted over to somewhere over Arthur’s shoulder. “Although I can see my husband is very interested in what is passing between us.”
Arthur knew she shouldn’t snap her head around so obviously, but she couldn’t help it.
Sure enough, Saito was sitting upright in his seat, eyes fixed upon the two of them with an intensity that almost burned. His posture relaxed when Eames reached to lay a hand on his wrist, but only slightly.
Arthur herself almost jumped out of her skin when Ami’s soft hand wrapped around her wrist.
“He should know better than to worry so,” the other woman said. “Neither of us has ever begrudged the other their comforts.”
“Comforts…?” There was another man, Arthur realized, rising from a seat nearby to approach them. He was pressed in a suit as well, yet the way he carried himself made it obvious that it wasn’t his regular attire. He placed a hand on Ami’s shoulder with the ease of familiarity, however.
“Sweetheart?” he said. “Is everything alright?”
The smile Ami bestowed upon him was wider than the one she’d given Arthur, warm and bright. “Of course,” she said, “although it is sweet of you to be so concerned.” Then, in the way she raised her hand to the man’s cheek and he leaned into it, Arthur knew.
Ami seemed able to tell right when it clicked in Arthur’s mind since she turned back to the other woman with a soft understanding in her eyes. “You must understand, miss, in a marriage like ours such things are a necessity.”
She rubbed her thumb once over the inside of Arthur’s wrist before letting herself be guided away by her male companion and it’s only then that Arthur remembered Saito’s marriage was an arranged one.
---
It’s not something they talk about, although Saito is solicitous to them both throughout the rest of the night. Yet now Arthur couldn’t help looking at everything Saito did in a new light.
It took under a week for her to realize that she was, essentially, staying for an indefinable amount of time in a suite paid for by Saito and with almost everything she did being paid via him as well.
The final straw came when Saito sent down a whole outfit for her to wear for dinner in the penthouse.
“I don’t understand what all the fuss is about,” Eames said. “Isn’t it a pretty dress?”
“That’s not the point, Eames,” Arthur said.
“Then what is the point, darling?” Eames asked. “Because I must admit I’m baffled.”
Arthur would like to think she had grown out of the stage of stomping her feet, which was why she just barely refrained herself from doing so. “Look, before I could wave it all away with the whole, ‘That’s just how Saito is,’ thing, but this…this…” She shook her head. “I’m not some sort of kept woman, Eames!”
“Oh, Arthur.” There was a strange sort of softness in Eames’ expression that rang far too much of pity for Arthur’s taste. “Is that really what you think this is?”
“Aha!” Arthur jabbed a finger at Eames. “That right there proves that there is a thing and I’m not going to let myself get conditioned into it.”
Eames raised his eyebrows. “Conditioned?” he echoed.
“Oh, shut up,” Arthur snapped. “You know what I mean. This is Saito. He’s the king of manipulation.”
Eames took a deep breath, letting it out in a much put upon sigh. “I suppose I should tell Saito you’re not coming then?”
Arthur’s response is to chuck her shoe at him. It’s no doubt overdramatic but it feels satisfying in the moment.
---
The next morning Arthur tried very hard not to focus on how she spent the night alone in the grand, soft bed. Instead she headed resolutely off to the shower where she took a rare luxurious scrub, staying in almost until the hot water ran out (which was saying something in such accommodations).
Getting dressed helped her to settle a bit more, if only because the motions were so familiar. It felt a lot like putting on her own personal battle armor with her creamy blouse and black skirt just above her knees. She toed on a pair of her favorite dark heels after her hair had dried enough to be pulled back into a ponytail.
She prepared to take on almost anything when she stepped out of the bedroom.
Which was why, of course, Saito had to be there perched on the couch with a solemn expression while Eames lounged across the arm.
To say Arthur jumped out of her skin would be an understatement. She actually had to clutch the doorframe. “What the actual…” She took a deep breath, forcing herself to remember that she couldn’t actually swear at her employer. “What are you two doing here?”
“Well it is my suite as well,” Eames said, “and, technically, I did sleep right on this very couch last night.”
Arthur would feel worse for that if she didn’t know just how comfy the couch was. She crossed her arms over her chest. “Very well then.” She leveled her eyes on Saito. “Why are you here.”
Saito, to his credit, didn’t so much as wince. “I am here,” he said, “because there seems to have been a grave misunderstanding.”
“No there hasn’t.” Arthur’s throat felt tight, which was no doubt why her words were coming out so short. “Your wife explained the terms quite well. I’m just saying I’m rejecting them.”
“Ah.” There was a hint of a smile playing around the corners of Saito’s mouth. “Ami might not have explained things as well as either of you thought. She is much more use to me indulging in occasional whims.”
“And this is…?” Arthur prompted.
“Not that,” Saito said firmly. He aimed a thoughtful gaze at Arthur. “Tell me, Arthur, do you understand the power play at hand here?”
Arthur wouldn’t exactly use the term “power play” to describe it, but she can figure it out well enough. “You provide me with all…this-” She waved a hand at the suite around her. “-for whatever ‘services’ I provide you with.” Even saying it left a bitter taste in her mouth.
Saito was smiling now, a small, fond one that really should have irritated Arthur more. “I think you have things backwards. For, despite what you may think, you are the one with the control here. I will never do anything I think you do not want. For, no matter how it may appear, we are equals and I will always treat you as such.”
Arthur’s mouth suddenly felt very dry. “And how does Eames factor into all this?” she asked.
There was a spark of amusement in Saito’s eyes now. “Oh, Arthur, surely you are not oblivious to the knowledge that a relationship does not always have to be confined to just two people.” He reached up to pat Eames on the knee, making the man in question grin. “Eames is welcome to join us if he so wishes.”
“And trust me, darling,” Eames said, his voice a deep roll, “I most definitely do wish.”
Arthur swallowed hard, feeling a bit like she might start to wobble on her feet. It was all a bit much to take in all at once and her mind was madly trying to race after each train of thought, needing to analyze all of it as best she could.
Eames’ voice broke through the storm cloud that had descended in a buzz around Arthur’s head. “Arthur.” He had slid off the arm of the couch, holding out his hands. “Come here.”
And, for once, Arthur came without question.
“There you are, love.” Eames’ voice was soft and there was something strangely comforting in feeling his hands fit around her own. “Just follow my lead, alright? If you don’t want to do something you can always say stop and we’ll listen.”
Arthur didn’t understand precisely what he meant until suddenly Eames’ hands were moving, fitting around her waist as he turned her around to face Saito. “Oh.” She breathed in deeply when Saito’s hands slid up to rest on her ribs. She was never one to back down from a challenge, though, so her nerves slipped to the backburner as she raised her hand to rest on Saito’s shoulder, pulling him in before she even realized it. “Come on then.”
As Saito’s lips fitted around her own, she felt sparks roll up from her stomach all the way up into her head and thought, “Yes, I think this will work out just fine.”
---
Things didn’t begin in earnest, however, until the three of them managed to stumble back into the bedroom. Arthur wound up sitting down on the foot of the bed, only to have Saito surprise her as he kneeled down between the spread of her legs. “You really don’t have to…” she began, but the rest of her words her lost in a groan once Saito got his mouth on her.
It really shouldn’t come as any surprise that Saito was as dogged with this as he is with everything else. He wound up rucking her skirt up to somewhere high above her thighs just so he can grab at them, pull her in closer just to get his tongue in deeper. Sometimes he would let his tongue dart out, lapping in leisurely strokes against her clit, but, for the most part, he keeps his tongue inside of her. Arthur can’t much complain since it leaves her to grind her clit down against the bridge of his nose until he would lift his thumb to rub at in circles.
Eames, of course, wasn’t one to be left out. He only let things stand as they were for about a minute before he started to undo the buttons of her blouse. He didn’t bother to undo her bra, simply pushing it down in the front until he can get at her breasts. He seemed quite preoccupied with her nipples, pinching at one while he twisted at the other and all while kissing his way up her neck.
She didn’t bother to keep quiet when she came, one hand tangled in Saito’s hair as she arched back against Eames with a shout.
When the world started to come back into focus she realized that Eames was in fact smirking down at her. “Oh, sweetheart,” he said, “it looks like we’ve quite tried you out.”
He should have known better then to look so smug, really, and surely regretted it when
Arthur rocked back against his clothed erection. “Oh, darling,” she drawled, “don’t you know anything about a girl’s sex drive?”
Eames seemed quite willing to learn, however, and Saito too, for when they finally collapsed in a tangle of limbs she had more than one man’s fluids inside her. And, to be honest, she was quite all right with that.
---
“So are you living in Japan now?” Dom asked. He and Arthur are talking again because Arthur never had it in her to stay mad at Dom for long.
“Not exactly,” Arthur said. “I did promise to show Saito around New York City and now that Eames can finally get back into Mombasa I’m sure he’ll want us to visit there too.”
“So are you…” Dom cleared his throat a bit awkwardly. “What exactly is going on with you three?”
Arthur looked over into the kitchen where Saito was listening very earnestly as Eames showed him the steps for the meal he was putting together for dinner. Occasionally bits of the conversation would filter over, things like, “No, no, you need to put salt in that water first!”
Arthur was smiling down the phone when she told Dom, “Oh, you know, all sorts of things.”
Pairing/Characters: Eames/fem!Arthur/Saito, OFC/OMC
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 6,720
Summary: Saito is curious about dream-share. Ms. Arthur is curious about Saito.
A/N: Written for i-reversebang
Bit hard to believe this is all finished at last! Thanks go to quinn-ster for putting up with my frantic beta requests and assuming cheerleader-ing positions with Tony. And, of course, none of this would have happened if it hadn't been for beili and her beautiful art.
Most people, after a near death experience, fought to stay as far away from the thing that had almost been the instrument of their death as possible. There was a reason, after all, that some soldiers returned from war with PTSD or people who survived plane crashes could develop a crippling fear of heights.
But then, Saito had never really been like most people. Which was why when he awoke (at last) back in his seat in the airplane, his first thoughts weren’t of how lucky he was to be alive. Instead all he could think of was the fluid slip between the dreams, the adrenaline rush that came with it, and even the lifetime he had eked out in limbo.
And he wanted to do it again.
---
Arthur isn’t living with Eames per say. He was the one who had invaded her apartment, as it were. Apparently the government in Kenya had finally caught wind of all the various gambling scams and cons he had been running out of the Mombasa. Staying with
Yusuf would draw too much attention to the dream den, so Arthur was the only logical option. Or at least that was how Eames had put it.
So what did it matter that he sometimes repaid her for such generosity by hoisting her up onto the counter to duck between her legs or fuck her into the bed? It wasn’t like it was bad sex.
Besides, Eames made for a pretty good errand boy for when she didn’t feel up to braving the rush of New York City traffic. Although that was hardly a handy thing when the phone went off halfway through her shower.
“I swear to God.” Arthur wrapped a towel loosely around herself, trying not to care about the water she was dripping all across the floor as she darted into the living room to snatch up the phone. Her mood was hardly improved when the caller ID informed her just who was calling. “You better have a damn good reason for calling me right now, Dom.”
There was a momentary pause in which Arthur almost snapped at Dom again and then, “It’s Saito.”
And just like that all of Arthur’s muscles tense as one, senses going on high alert.
“What do you mean? Is he alright?” He had seemed perfectly fine in the airport terminal, almost even jovial as he went around to shake their hands. But Arthur was there for when Mal woke up and knew perfectly well that the side effects of being in limbo didn’t always manifest right away.
Dom must know what has her so worried since he hurries to reply to her. “Yeah, I mean... Well, I think he is, but...” A sigh comes through the line. “He wants to go back under.”
Arthur felt some of the tension easing out of her body. “Oh.” She glanced over at the calendar, brow furrowing. “But it’s only been--”
“A month, yeah.” There’s something tight in Dom’s voice. “Apparently he only waited so long out of ‘decency’.”
“Oh,” Arthur said. “Huh.” She tapped her foot against the floor, inwardly wincing a little when she realized she was basically splashing around in a puddle. “Does he just want to go down for recreation?” It’s not what dream teams are typically hired for, but it’s not unusual. There’s a certain appeal to being able to go under and play out any fantasy you want without any actual risk, after all.
“You could call it that,” Dom said. “According to him it has more to do with exploring the full reaches of dreaming. I told him I couldn’t do it, not just because of the kids, but because he shouldn’t be going under so soon either. He spent a whole lifetime in limbo. He should be trying to recuperate, take in the real world.”
It’s on the tip of Arthur’s tongue to point out that was hardly what Dom did after his stint in limbo, but she refrains. Maybe she could even take this as Dom having learned from his mistakes, although that seemed like a long shot. “So why are you calling to tell me this?” she asked. “Haven’t you already managed to tell him off?”
“I would like to say so,” Dom said, “but he didn’t exactly seem resigned after we talked. So I’m pretty sure he’s going to try making the offer to you next.”
As if his words are some sort of cosmic cue, the phone beeps to inform her that she has a call waiting. The caller ID can’t tell her who the number belongs to, but it’s fairly obvious who it must be.
“I’m going to have to call you back, Dom,” she said, “someone else is trying to get through.”
“If its Saito then don’t give him into him,” Dom cut in quickly. “No matter what he offers you just don’t, okay?”
“I promise to hear what he has to say first,” Arthur said and flicked to the other call before Dom could warn her more. “Hello Mr. Saito.”
“Miss Moss.” Saito didn’t seem the slightest bit surprised that she knew it was him.
“Is Mr. Eames out at the moment? I have a job offer that extends to both of you.”
Knowing what she does about Saito, Arthur really shouldn’t be taken aback that he knew that Eames and her were...having an arrangement. “I can vet the job for the both of us.” At the very least she knew what Eames enjoyed--elaborate schemes and large paychecks, both of which Saito was likely to provide.
“Excellent,” Saito said. “Am I correct to presume that Mr. Cobb has already gotten in contact with you?”
“Yes,” Arthur said. She didn’t add that the point of the call had been to warn her off the job she was about to be offered. If Saito knew that Dom had gotten in contact with her then he probably already knew it had been to forewarn her. “Not to be rude, but are you sure you know what you’re doing? Your first experience with dream share was a little...” She swallowed hard, remembering Saito bleeding out on the floor of the warehouse with nothing any of them could do to fix it. “...tumultuous.”
“Exactly why I want to try again.” Saito took her silence in stride. “Tell me, Miss Moss, have you not been injured on the job? Did you consider quitting dream share after getting by at the skin of your teeth with inception? Or did you enjoy the rush and want to plunge right back in again at the first opportunity.”
He didn’t even bother to phrase the last of a question and Arthur wondered if she was really that transparent or whether Saito was just that good at reading people. She hoped it was the latter. “And what are you offering in exchange?”
Saito’s tone sounded like he knew he had won even before he put up a price that was double what either her or Eames’ standard going rates were. “And inform Eames that if he agrees to tag along then I will make sure to do something about his charges in Kenya.”
Despite herself, Arthur can’t keep from smiling. “You are making quite habit of wiping away government problems, Mr. Saito.”
Saito chuckled. “I make sure to take care of my own.” That had a rush of something shifting down Arthur’s spine before he added, “And I think we are past the use of honorifics by now, don’t you, Arthur?”
Arthur had no idea why the use of her given name should affect her so strongly, but she clutched the phone a little tighter. “Fair enough, Saito.”
Eames bounded back into the apartment after she had squared away the last of the details and hung up the phone. “Now I might have gotten a little exotic with the shopping,” he said, “but I promise that dragon fruit isn’t as hard to cook as it sounds.” He raised his eyebrows as he took in the state of the floor. “My, my, you don’t usually make a mess while I’m out.”
Arthur rolled her eyes towards the ceiling. “Saito interrupted my shower to make a job offer.” She didn’t bother mentioning that Dom had been the first to call. Eames didn’t tend to put much stock in Dom’s words on a good day.
“Did he?” Eames said, mock scandalized. “I hope it was a good offer after he subjected you to such indignity.”
Arthur had to press her lips together so not to laugh. “It was. And if you come join me in the shower then I’ll tell you what it was.”
She was sure she would scold Eames about dropping the bags of groceries on the floor, but at the moment he was doing things with his hands that made it a bit hard to concentrate.
---
Saito, apparently, wasn’t above pulling out the perks for this job. He scheduled a private jet to arrive for them through the airline that was still in his pocket from the inception job. The service was really lovely, but Arthur had almost choked on her complimentary champagne when she was informed that the jet was actually Saito’s favorite.
It was for this reason that she didn’t let Eames sway her into having sex on the plush leather seats.
“But, darling,” Eames bemoaned, “think about the mile high club!”
Arthur snorted derisively. “I’ve already joined that, thank you,” she said. She didn’t
even try to stop the corners of her lips from curling into a small, smug smile at Eames’ surprised look. Sometimes it was a bit disturbing just how much Eames managed to get right about her--something that she didn’t want to examine the reasons behind--so it was good to know she could still get one over on him.
“Who was it?” Eames scrunched up his face. “Please don’t tell me it was Cobb.”
Arthur’s mouth went slack. “Dom?” she exclaimed. “You think it was...” She trailed off, just barely suppressing a full body shudder. “That would never happen. He’s like my brother for Christ’s sake!”
“Ah, so I suppose that limits some of my competition then,” Eames said.
Arthur’s head swiveled towards him at once. “What?”
But the plane had touched down by then, the stewardesses bustling back to check on them, and Eames suddenly became very interested in charming them all until they tittered, insisting on helping him get his bags down.
Arthur had no idea why that should bother her. She did feel a bit sorry for snapping at one of the stewardesses, but not for treading “accidentally” on Eames’ foot when he shot her a knowing look.
Given the style in which they had arrived, Arthur had expected there would be a driver there to collect them. What she hadn’t expected, was that Saito would be the one in the airport waiting for them.
Although his smile was small, it was still a warmer, more genuine version of the one she had seen him sporting in photos in the newspaper and interviews on various TV shows. “My friends.” His grip was firm yet somehow not intimidating as he shook their hands. “I am glad to see you again. I must admit I was half afraid that Mr. Cobb might have talked you out of coming.”
Arthur’s brow furrowed as she realized he was still attaching an honorific to Dom’s name even after telling her that they were beyond that.
Eames cut in before her lapse of silence could be noticed, however. “Oh, Saito,” he said, “you should know by now that I never do what that man tells me.”
Arthur said nothing on that account, not seeing the point. She earned her title as Dom’s right hand by chasing him across the globe in an effort to make sure he didn’t get himself killed. She couldn’t say she didn’t care for him because she always would, yet she felt no pain over letting themselves live their separate lives, especially not after his unexpected betrayal on the inception job.
“Will we be getting straight to work?” she asked instead. She could already feel the lag of the shifting time zones settling into her bones, but she was prepared to shake it off if she had to.
“Not at all,” Saito said. “I know you will need some time to recuperate before we set about our task.”
It didn’t escape Arthur’s notice that he made no mention of having to prepare for the job himself in any way.
---
They wound up being lodged in a suite of rooms right below Saito’s own penthouse and Arthur fell in love with the sleek elegance of it almost instantly.
She ignored the look of fond amusement Eames shot her, flopping down onto the couch. She was nearly in danger of falling asleep right there until Eames plopped down next to her, easing off her shoes so that he could lift her feet up into his lap. She had to bite back a groan as he started to rub his thumbs into the pad of one of her feet.
Her heels were lovely but they did have a tendency to make her feet ache if worn for too long.
“Don’t think this will get you laid tonight,” she said. “I’m too tired for that.”
Eames’ good mood continued on unflagged. “Of course you are, darling,” he said. “I’d be quite content to settle for a cuddle instead.”
Arthur offered up two long blinks before echoing blandly back, “A cuddle.”
“Why not?” Eames said. “We did it all the time back home.”
Arthur managed to school her reaction into a simple lift of her eyebrows, hiding the jolt that ran through her. It would have been a simple sentence if Eames hadn’t referred to her apartment as “home”-the first time he’d ever done such a thing.
Was it supposed to mean something? Had she missed some sort of point?
She didn’t want to probe into all of that right now, though. It was better to keep things light, come up with some teasing response. “This better be the best foot rub of your life.”
“I will do my best to live up to your exacting standards,” Eames swore with mock severity.
He must have succeeded in some way because by the time he was done he had to carry a drowsy Arthur to bed.
---
Arthur was appalled by how late the morning call from the front desk was that morning, but Eames seemed entirely unperturbed by it. “It’s barely even into the afternoon yet, darling,” he said. “And, besides, Saito owns this whole building. I doubt we would have woken up anytime he didn’t want us to.”
Apparently Eames was right-not that Arthur would ever say such a thing out loud-because by the time they got up to Saito’s penthouse there was already a spread clearly meant for brunch spread out across the coffee table in the living room.
Under other circumstances, Arthur might have kicked up a fuss over being nudged into an arrangement without her knowledge, but, honestly, she probably should have seen this coming.
This was a job with Saito of all people, after all. Manipulation was virtually a given.
Still, she did like to work with a schedule when it came to jobs, something that would give a more concentrate way of figuring out how things needed to be planned out. It was one of the many reasons why she was the best at what she did and why she didn’t bother dancing around the subject when she sat down next to Eames on the couch across from Saito’s own.
“So,” she said, “what exactly is our agenda?”
Saito spread out his hands. “It is whatever you choose it to be.” He chuckled as his two visitors raised their eyebrows almost as one. “I did tell you, did I not, that all I wanted was to explore the world of dreams? Whatever you can concoct that would allow me to do that would please me.”
“What about militarization?” Arthur asked. “It might be best if we covered that as well.”
A small furrow appeared on Saito’s brow. “Mr. Cobb took care of that on our last venture together.” A soft sound escaped him when Arthur continued to look puzzled. “Ah, my apologies,” he said softly. “I did not realize he had not told you.”
Another secret Dom had decided to keep from her then.
As if he could sense what she was thinking, Eames placed his hand on her knee as he reached over to swipe up some butter for his piece of toast. “Cobb always was a tricky devil.” His voice contained none of the warmth it usually carried when he spoke of such things. Eames tended to like people that could surprise him, but apparently this wasn’t something that carried over to Dom.
As she watched him, Eames spread a layer of jam over the butter that was already on the toast, bringing his eyes back to Saito as he passed the toast over to Arthur. She took it without even thinking about it, only feeling a prickling, heated sensation along the back of her neck when she realized that Saito was looking at them with a hint of fondness in his eyes.
So what if Eames knew just how she liked her toast? They’d been cohabiting for a month now so of course he had picked up on some of her habits. He was a forger, it was what he did naturally.
It was an assumption that only seemed proven when Eames set about filling one of the dainty china cups with coffee, something that he had to be doing for Saito (he and Arthur already had full, steaming cups).
“So you want to just dive in and see what you can see?” Eames said. “I’ll have you know I quite like this adventurous side of you, Saito.” He stirred the coffee once with one of the miniature silver spoons, allowing the milk to settle, before offering it over to Saito.
Saito eyed the cup with a slight measure of trepidation. “I appreciate the gesture,” he said, “but I have very-”
“Very specific tastes when it comes to your coffee,” Eames said. “I know. I was there when you cut down that girl in the café, remember?” He drummed his fingers against the arm of the couch. “You want only a skimming of cream so not to cover the natural flavor, but you prefer to have quite a sprinkling of sugar in there too. Am I right?”
Saito arched a brow instead of answering, lifting the cup to his lips. A small smile settled onto his lips after he swallowed. “Very clever, Eames.” Then, more quietly, “I didn’t realize I had drawn your focus as well.”
“I’m excellent at canvasing my interests,” Eames replied.
Arthur’s eyes flicked rapidly between the two men, trying to figure out what had passed between them. But Saito seemed content to merely sip at his coffee while Eames’ smug smirk didn’t fade even as he snatched up one of the puffed pastries.
“So, now that’s settled, what do you lot say to going under?”
---
Going under with Saito was…interesting. Arthur can’t say for sure what she expected Saito’s subconscious to be like, but there was definitely a part of her that looked at his life and expected something meticulously planned out. Instead she discovered that
Saito’s dreams were almost like what she’d come to expect from Eames’, everything so lush that it managed to play across your senses in a way that could almost convince you the dream was real.
The scrupulous nature came out in the planning. Saito will never be an architect, but he fell into the manipulation of all those straight lines and crafting of paradoxes with ruthless precision.
Sometimes there is some sort of challenge placed down. Saito’s favorite is to see how long he can keep Arthur and Eames away from whatever secrets he placed in his head.
It’s often mundane facts like his favorite color or the sort of American foods he actually can stand.
Over time, though, Arthur started to realize that they were plucking out bits of Saito’s memories, that he was all but allowing them to piece together the man under all those finely tailored suits. It made Arthur feel heady with just how much trust that meant Saito was giving them.
The projections still managed to get them sometimes, of course, but more often than not Saito appeared to finish things, making sure to give them the quickest possible deaths.
The one time that he didn’t, however, Arthur learned that Saito’s projections could be as ruthless as he was and woke up gasping for breath, trying to force her mind to understand that the wounds on her body weren’t real ones.
Eames had been in a similar state at her side, which was proof enough that something had gone wrong since hardly anything managed to ruffle that man’s feathers anymore. Or, at least, if it did he never let it show.
Saito had tugged the IV line out of his wrist and was kneeling between their chairs in seconds, hands going to their foreheads. “I am sorry, my friends,” he had said. “That will never happen again.”
Arthur shouldn’t be surprised that it hadn’t. Saito was a man of his word, after all. But she couldn’t forget the soft steel in his voice, the protective manner that implied a level of possession.
---
Arthur wasn’t sure when she started to lose track of time, but one day she woke up to realize that almost half a month had passed without her realizing it.
Her head was still whirling from it when she sat on the couch later that day, cradling her cellphone to her ear. It wasn’t the first time that Dom had tried to call her; it’s merely the first time she’s picked up.
It wasn’t anything she hadn’t expected. He figured out she took Saito up on his offer when all his calls to the phone in her New York apartment went unanswered. Arthur really wasn’t looking forward to the voicemails waiting for her when she got home. She really wasn’t.
She was only really listening to Dom with one ear anyway since she had only been a few minutes into the call before Eames plopped down on the floor before her, tugging off her heels. She half expected to be on the receiving end of another foot rub, which was why her eyebrows lifted when Eames plucked a bottle of nail polish out of his pocket.
“Don’t fuss, darling,” he said in response to her unspoken question. “We both know this color will go lovely with your new peep toe pumps.” And as Arthur watched the deep red be applied she was inclined to agree with him.
It was actually soothing in a rather rhythmic way to watch the brush swipe over each nail, Eames’ fingers somehow graceful for all their thickness. He had a tendency to swipe his thumb over the heel of her foot with his free hand while he worked as well, an idle touch that almost made her smile.
“Arthur? Are you listening to me?”
Arthur sighed, letting her focus slip back over to Dom. “I am, Dom, but I don’t see what I can do about it now.”
“Convince him to end it,” Dom said.
There was no way Arthur couldn’t laugh at that because Dom sounded like that would actually be easy. “Yeah, that’s not going to happen,” she said.
“Why?” There was something almost sharp in Dom’s words now. “Is the payout really that important to you?”
Arthur didn’t want to show how much those words affected her, but she knew Eames must have been able to feel the way she tensed because he stopped working on her nails, eyes shooting up to her.
“Fuck you, Dom.” Arthur’s voice felt squeezed tight, each word coming out jagged. “You should be glad that Saito has someone actually competent enough to watch after him.”
She could hear Dom sigh and the beginnings of an apologetic sounding, “Arthur…” but she slammed the cellphone shut before she could hear anymore, throwing it down so hard on the couch that it bounced away onto the floor.
Eames didn’t say anything for a few long minutes, but she knew he wouldn’t stay silent forever. “Is that what we’re doing then? Looking after Saito?”
“Eames, don’t. Just…” Arthur sighed heavily, eyes falling shut as she pressed the heels of her hands hard against them. “Just don’t.”
“Alright, Arthur.” Some of the tension managed to slip out of Arthur then when she felt Eames’ lips pressing softly against her ankle before he resumed his work.
There was an overwhelming amount of flowers there to greet her the next morning, for which Eames insisted he couldn’t claim credit. Saito didn’t even attempt not to be obvious about it, suggesting that Arthur show them around the Paris of her memory when they went under that day. And as if she didn’t already realize she was being fussed over, both men insisted on being taken to her favorite restaurant, her favorite of everything.
Arthur might have rolled her eyes at it if the men didn’t manage to be so earnest about it all. It was rather adorable, really.
---
By the time the month was up, Arthur really didn’t know what she was doing. It wasn’t like she didn’t still enjoy the work she was doing, but it seemed like the lines were starting to get blurred. More then once, after the three of them blinked awake, Saito would insist on her and Eames staying for private meals in his penthouse. And then one morning she awoke curled around Eames on the sofa with Saito looking fondly at them.
“It seemed rude to awaken you,” had been his excuse. He had even wrapped a blanket around them.
Eames seemed to take it all in stride, which baffled Arthur. Especially because now Saito had insisted on giving them the night off so that he could take them out to dinner. At a restaurant he very obviously owned if the way the manger arrived to personally escort them to one of the best seats in the house.
It didn’t take long for Arthur to become aware of the looks being shot her way. She could tell almost every person was trying to puzzle out how she was boxed in between two men, measuring her every interaction with each in an attempt to figure out which one she must be with.
It made her want to roll her eyes, that assumption, because, honestly, couldn’t people just accept that a woman could be friends with men? No matter how handsome they were?
Yet, at the same time, the scrutiny made her observe her own actions more closely and there was something in the results that made her skin prickle. It was so easy to reach over the table to rework the knot at Eames’ tie and to turn her head, right in the middle of it, to eat the sushi Saito offered out to her on his chopsticks.
She was pretty sure she heard actual whispers gathering when Saito passed a piece of sushi over to Eames as well after the forger had pouted over being left out.
“Excuse me,” Arthur said, “I have to go to the bathroom.” She toddled off, although not quickly enough to miss the way Saito and Eames exchanged a worried look.
She fumbled with the door handle to the bathroom then darted into it so quickly that she bumped shoulders with someone on their way out.
“Oh!” She just barely managed not to tack on a curse. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t…” Her words slipped away, however, when she turned around.
She had seen this woman before in various TV talks shows and photo shoots staged by sleek, classy magazines. Yet, even more so, Arthur knew her because she had dug up the woman’s wedding photos during the research for the Cobol job.
This was Ami, a woman almost as powerful as her own husband-Saito.
The smile that spread across Ami’s lips was slow and somehow sweet. “No worries, miss, I am sure you did not do such a thing on purpose.” Her eyes flitted over to somewhere over Arthur’s shoulder. “Although I can see my husband is very interested in what is passing between us.”
Arthur knew she shouldn’t snap her head around so obviously, but she couldn’t help it.
Sure enough, Saito was sitting upright in his seat, eyes fixed upon the two of them with an intensity that almost burned. His posture relaxed when Eames reached to lay a hand on his wrist, but only slightly.
Arthur herself almost jumped out of her skin when Ami’s soft hand wrapped around her wrist.
“He should know better than to worry so,” the other woman said. “Neither of us has ever begrudged the other their comforts.”
“Comforts…?” There was another man, Arthur realized, rising from a seat nearby to approach them. He was pressed in a suit as well, yet the way he carried himself made it obvious that it wasn’t his regular attire. He placed a hand on Ami’s shoulder with the ease of familiarity, however.
“Sweetheart?” he said. “Is everything alright?”
The smile Ami bestowed upon him was wider than the one she’d given Arthur, warm and bright. “Of course,” she said, “although it is sweet of you to be so concerned.” Then, in the way she raised her hand to the man’s cheek and he leaned into it, Arthur knew.
Ami seemed able to tell right when it clicked in Arthur’s mind since she turned back to the other woman with a soft understanding in her eyes. “You must understand, miss, in a marriage like ours such things are a necessity.”
She rubbed her thumb once over the inside of Arthur’s wrist before letting herself be guided away by her male companion and it’s only then that Arthur remembered Saito’s marriage was an arranged one.
---
It’s not something they talk about, although Saito is solicitous to them both throughout the rest of the night. Yet now Arthur couldn’t help looking at everything Saito did in a new light.
It took under a week for her to realize that she was, essentially, staying for an indefinable amount of time in a suite paid for by Saito and with almost everything she did being paid via him as well.
The final straw came when Saito sent down a whole outfit for her to wear for dinner in the penthouse.
“I don’t understand what all the fuss is about,” Eames said. “Isn’t it a pretty dress?”
“That’s not the point, Eames,” Arthur said.
“Then what is the point, darling?” Eames asked. “Because I must admit I’m baffled.”
Arthur would like to think she had grown out of the stage of stomping her feet, which was why she just barely refrained herself from doing so. “Look, before I could wave it all away with the whole, ‘That’s just how Saito is,’ thing, but this…this…” She shook her head. “I’m not some sort of kept woman, Eames!”
“Oh, Arthur.” There was a strange sort of softness in Eames’ expression that rang far too much of pity for Arthur’s taste. “Is that really what you think this is?”
“Aha!” Arthur jabbed a finger at Eames. “That right there proves that there is a thing and I’m not going to let myself get conditioned into it.”
Eames raised his eyebrows. “Conditioned?” he echoed.
“Oh, shut up,” Arthur snapped. “You know what I mean. This is Saito. He’s the king of manipulation.”
Eames took a deep breath, letting it out in a much put upon sigh. “I suppose I should tell Saito you’re not coming then?”
Arthur’s response is to chuck her shoe at him. It’s no doubt overdramatic but it feels satisfying in the moment.
---
The next morning Arthur tried very hard not to focus on how she spent the night alone in the grand, soft bed. Instead she headed resolutely off to the shower where she took a rare luxurious scrub, staying in almost until the hot water ran out (which was saying something in such accommodations).
Getting dressed helped her to settle a bit more, if only because the motions were so familiar. It felt a lot like putting on her own personal battle armor with her creamy blouse and black skirt just above her knees. She toed on a pair of her favorite dark heels after her hair had dried enough to be pulled back into a ponytail.
She prepared to take on almost anything when she stepped out of the bedroom.
Which was why, of course, Saito had to be there perched on the couch with a solemn expression while Eames lounged across the arm.
To say Arthur jumped out of her skin would be an understatement. She actually had to clutch the doorframe. “What the actual…” She took a deep breath, forcing herself to remember that she couldn’t actually swear at her employer. “What are you two doing here?”
“Well it is my suite as well,” Eames said, “and, technically, I did sleep right on this very couch last night.”
Arthur would feel worse for that if she didn’t know just how comfy the couch was. She crossed her arms over her chest. “Very well then.” She leveled her eyes on Saito. “Why are you here.”
Saito, to his credit, didn’t so much as wince. “I am here,” he said, “because there seems to have been a grave misunderstanding.”
“No there hasn’t.” Arthur’s throat felt tight, which was no doubt why her words were coming out so short. “Your wife explained the terms quite well. I’m just saying I’m rejecting them.”
“Ah.” There was a hint of a smile playing around the corners of Saito’s mouth. “Ami might not have explained things as well as either of you thought. She is much more use to me indulging in occasional whims.”
“And this is…?” Arthur prompted.
“Not that,” Saito said firmly. He aimed a thoughtful gaze at Arthur. “Tell me, Arthur, do you understand the power play at hand here?”
Arthur wouldn’t exactly use the term “power play” to describe it, but she can figure it out well enough. “You provide me with all…this-” She waved a hand at the suite around her. “-for whatever ‘services’ I provide you with.” Even saying it left a bitter taste in her mouth.
Saito was smiling now, a small, fond one that really should have irritated Arthur more. “I think you have things backwards. For, despite what you may think, you are the one with the control here. I will never do anything I think you do not want. For, no matter how it may appear, we are equals and I will always treat you as such.”
Arthur’s mouth suddenly felt very dry. “And how does Eames factor into all this?” she asked.
There was a spark of amusement in Saito’s eyes now. “Oh, Arthur, surely you are not oblivious to the knowledge that a relationship does not always have to be confined to just two people.” He reached up to pat Eames on the knee, making the man in question grin. “Eames is welcome to join us if he so wishes.”
“And trust me, darling,” Eames said, his voice a deep roll, “I most definitely do wish.”
Arthur swallowed hard, feeling a bit like she might start to wobble on her feet. It was all a bit much to take in all at once and her mind was madly trying to race after each train of thought, needing to analyze all of it as best she could.
Eames’ voice broke through the storm cloud that had descended in a buzz around Arthur’s head. “Arthur.” He had slid off the arm of the couch, holding out his hands. “Come here.”
And, for once, Arthur came without question.
“There you are, love.” Eames’ voice was soft and there was something strangely comforting in feeling his hands fit around her own. “Just follow my lead, alright? If you don’t want to do something you can always say stop and we’ll listen.”
Arthur didn’t understand precisely what he meant until suddenly Eames’ hands were moving, fitting around her waist as he turned her around to face Saito. “Oh.” She breathed in deeply when Saito’s hands slid up to rest on her ribs. She was never one to back down from a challenge, though, so her nerves slipped to the backburner as she raised her hand to rest on Saito’s shoulder, pulling him in before she even realized it. “Come on then.”
As Saito’s lips fitted around her own, she felt sparks roll up from her stomach all the way up into her head and thought, “Yes, I think this will work out just fine.”
---
Things didn’t begin in earnest, however, until the three of them managed to stumble back into the bedroom. Arthur wound up sitting down on the foot of the bed, only to have Saito surprise her as he kneeled down between the spread of her legs. “You really don’t have to…” she began, but the rest of her words her lost in a groan once Saito got his mouth on her.
It really shouldn’t come as any surprise that Saito was as dogged with this as he is with everything else. He wound up rucking her skirt up to somewhere high above her thighs just so he can grab at them, pull her in closer just to get his tongue in deeper. Sometimes he would let his tongue dart out, lapping in leisurely strokes against her clit, but, for the most part, he keeps his tongue inside of her. Arthur can’t much complain since it leaves her to grind her clit down against the bridge of his nose until he would lift his thumb to rub at in circles.
Eames, of course, wasn’t one to be left out. He only let things stand as they were for about a minute before he started to undo the buttons of her blouse. He didn’t bother to undo her bra, simply pushing it down in the front until he can get at her breasts. He seemed quite preoccupied with her nipples, pinching at one while he twisted at the other and all while kissing his way up her neck.
She didn’t bother to keep quiet when she came, one hand tangled in Saito’s hair as she arched back against Eames with a shout.
When the world started to come back into focus she realized that Eames was in fact smirking down at her. “Oh, sweetheart,” he said, “it looks like we’ve quite tried you out.”
He should have known better then to look so smug, really, and surely regretted it when
Arthur rocked back against his clothed erection. “Oh, darling,” she drawled, “don’t you know anything about a girl’s sex drive?”
Eames seemed quite willing to learn, however, and Saito too, for when they finally collapsed in a tangle of limbs she had more than one man’s fluids inside her. And, to be honest, she was quite all right with that.
---
“So are you living in Japan now?” Dom asked. He and Arthur are talking again because Arthur never had it in her to stay mad at Dom for long.
“Not exactly,” Arthur said. “I did promise to show Saito around New York City and now that Eames can finally get back into Mombasa I’m sure he’ll want us to visit there too.”
“So are you…” Dom cleared his throat a bit awkwardly. “What exactly is going on with you three?”
Arthur looked over into the kitchen where Saito was listening very earnestly as Eames showed him the steps for the meal he was putting together for dinner. Occasionally bits of the conversation would filter over, things like, “No, no, you need to put salt in that water first!”
Arthur was smiling down the phone when she told Dom, “Oh, you know, all sorts of things.”