053
Title: Yellow
Chapter: 10/11
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I don’t own Inception.
Pairing/Characters: Arthur/Eames, Phillipa, Mal, James, Cobb
Summary: In which Eames has lost his mind (and an eye), James doesn't want to go home, Phillipa makes faces, and Arthur is obtains future blackmail potential.
Author’s Note: So, unless something truly unforeseeable happens, the next chapter will be the last. BUT there will be a sequel. At least one sequel, we'll see what the plot bunnies come up with. I have the beginning of the new series developped so it should be a pretty smooth transition. And that's about it. Once again, thank you for all your kind comments.
Previous Part(s): One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine
--
Phillipa makes faces at the soup in front of her. “I don’t like the green stuff,” she repeats for the third time.
“They’re called leeks,” Arthur explains, again.
“I don’t want leeks. I don’t like soup.” She eyes James’ peanut butter sandwich wistfully. “I want a sandwich.”
“You can’t have a sandwich until you stop throwing up. This will settle your stomach.” She picks up the spoon and empties it back into the bowl. Arthur sighs. “Just eat the potatoes in it and drink some of the broth, okay?”
“Then a sandwich?”
“No,” Eames interrupts. “You can have a sandwich if the soup stays down. And the crackers after that.” Phillipa huffs but obediently begins picking out the bits of sliced potato.
“James, no scratching,” Arthur orders.
Eames bumps their knees together under the table and Arthur fights to suppress his smile. “Uncle Arthur, when are we going home?” Phillipa asks.
Arthur forces the smile forward and looks at her. “Soon, Pip. Your daddy hopes it will be soon.”
James stuffs his sandwich into his mouth. “I dun wanna go home,” he mumbles around a mouthful of peanut butter.
--
Eames has lost his mind, Arthur thinks fondly.
He leans against the doorframe, an amused smile firmly in place. Eames is bouncing around the office with Phillipa’s orange scarf tied around his head and pulled down over one eye. He’s using the umbrella from the hall as some kind of sword or staff and his accent seems to have deepened in the ten minutes Arthur has been watching.
Phillipa and James are on the pull out sofa, laughing so hard they’re almost doubled over. Phillipa has tears on her face and James’ smile stretches from ear to ear. Silently Arthur retrieves the video camera from his room and returns, camera on and recording. Eames looks up and grins when he sees him, but he doesn’t break character.
“Back, back beast!” Eames hollers. He swings the umbrella at the caterpillar. It somehow gets wrapped around the umbrella and Eames growls at it. “Get off my sword, you sniveling, cowardly, Lepidoptera!”
Arthur raises his eyebrows and his mouth twists into a wider grin. James stops laughing and stares at Eames. “What’s a leopard terror?”
“It’s a type of insect,” Arthur supplies.
“That’s a caterpillar!” Phillipa protests.
Eames crouches by the bed, sword and beast forgotten on the desk chair. “Right you are, Pippa. The Lepidoptera are sneaky blighters though. Disguise themselves as harmless caterpillars. Can’t turn your back on them ever.”
He ruffles her hair as Arthur makes his way stealthily toward the abandoned toy. While they’re distracted he calmly picks up the caterpillar and returns to his post at the door. When he’s sure Eames is still going on about the tricks of the caterpillars and their various disguises, Arthur tosses the caterpillar at Eames’ back. It lands on his head.
Eames lets out a yell and proceeds to fall backwards. His arms flail about and Arthur’s laughing so hard he almost drops the camera. Phillipa and James scream and duck under the covers. Arthur watches as suddenly the toy is airborne and Eames goes leaping after it. The scarf has twisted and the knot is now over his eye, the ends fanning out on the side. The kids poke their heads out, laughing once again. Eames wrestles the caterpillar into submission and locks it in the roll down desk.
Arthur shakes his head, shuts off the camera, and leaves while Eames is still bowing.
--
“I think you’ve seen the movie with the weasel too many times,” Arthur murmurs. Eames shrugs as he finishes tucking the kids in for their nap. “What were you even doing?”
“Having fun, using my imagination.” He stretches as he exits the office. “Nice job with the attacking caterpillar.”
“I’ve always found it difficult to resist the impulse to hit you with something,” Arthur agrees. Eames sneers in response and Arthur smiles. “You know you can remove the scarf now, right?”
“You don’t think it makes me look dashing?”
“No, I don’t.” He grunts as Eames grabs his shoulder and spins him around before shoving him against the wall. His head narrowly misses clipping the heavy mirror hanging next to him. “Do you have to keep slamming me against things?”
Eames smirks. “I like you pinned,” he replies simply. He leans in and Arthur almost goes cross eyed staring at the fuzzy orange scarf around Eames’ head. “All adventurers wear eye patches,” Eames adds.
“I am not kissing you with that thing on,” Arthur tells him firmly. He easily breaks the hold and Eames sighs forlornly, leaning against the wall. “You’ll have better luck with the caterpillar.”
“I am not kissing an insect,” Eames protests. He checks his reflection and tilts his head this way and that. “What do you think of this as a new disguise?”
“You’ll be shot in two seconds,” Arthur grumbles.
“Thank you for your contribution, Arthur.” He removes the scarf though, leaves it on the small table under the mirror. “I’m getting one of those cookies you made, want one?”
“Sure.” He trails Eames into the kitchen and waits for him to take out two of the cookies from the bowl.
“How long you think they’ll sleep? I’m knackered after last night,” Eames sighs. He sinks into a chair, feet propped on the one next to it. Arthur shrugs as he sits on his right.
“I don’t know. The medicine I gave Phillipa should knock her out though.” He leans back, chair balanced on two legs. Eames eyes it. “Don’t think about it.”
Chapter: 10/11
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I don’t own Inception.
Pairing/Characters: Arthur/Eames, Phillipa, Mal, James, Cobb
Summary: In which Eames has lost his mind (and an eye), James doesn't want to go home, Phillipa makes faces, and Arthur is obtains future blackmail potential.
Author’s Note: So, unless something truly unforeseeable happens, the next chapter will be the last. BUT there will be a sequel. At least one sequel, we'll see what the plot bunnies come up with. I have the beginning of the new series developped so it should be a pretty smooth transition. And that's about it. Once again, thank you for all your kind comments.
Previous Part(s): One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine
--
Phillipa makes faces at the soup in front of her. “I don’t like the green stuff,” she repeats for the third time.
“They’re called leeks,” Arthur explains, again.
“I don’t want leeks. I don’t like soup.” She eyes James’ peanut butter sandwich wistfully. “I want a sandwich.”
“You can’t have a sandwich until you stop throwing up. This will settle your stomach.” She picks up the spoon and empties it back into the bowl. Arthur sighs. “Just eat the potatoes in it and drink some of the broth, okay?”
“Then a sandwich?”
“No,” Eames interrupts. “You can have a sandwich if the soup stays down. And the crackers after that.” Phillipa huffs but obediently begins picking out the bits of sliced potato.
“James, no scratching,” Arthur orders.
Eames bumps their knees together under the table and Arthur fights to suppress his smile. “Uncle Arthur, when are we going home?” Phillipa asks.
Arthur forces the smile forward and looks at her. “Soon, Pip. Your daddy hopes it will be soon.”
James stuffs his sandwich into his mouth. “I dun wanna go home,” he mumbles around a mouthful of peanut butter.
--
Eames has lost his mind, Arthur thinks fondly.
He leans against the doorframe, an amused smile firmly in place. Eames is bouncing around the office with Phillipa’s orange scarf tied around his head and pulled down over one eye. He’s using the umbrella from the hall as some kind of sword or staff and his accent seems to have deepened in the ten minutes Arthur has been watching.
Phillipa and James are on the pull out sofa, laughing so hard they’re almost doubled over. Phillipa has tears on her face and James’ smile stretches from ear to ear. Silently Arthur retrieves the video camera from his room and returns, camera on and recording. Eames looks up and grins when he sees him, but he doesn’t break character.
“Back, back beast!” Eames hollers. He swings the umbrella at the caterpillar. It somehow gets wrapped around the umbrella and Eames growls at it. “Get off my sword, you sniveling, cowardly, Lepidoptera!”
Arthur raises his eyebrows and his mouth twists into a wider grin. James stops laughing and stares at Eames. “What’s a leopard terror?”
“It’s a type of insect,” Arthur supplies.
“That’s a caterpillar!” Phillipa protests.
Eames crouches by the bed, sword and beast forgotten on the desk chair. “Right you are, Pippa. The Lepidoptera are sneaky blighters though. Disguise themselves as harmless caterpillars. Can’t turn your back on them ever.”
He ruffles her hair as Arthur makes his way stealthily toward the abandoned toy. While they’re distracted he calmly picks up the caterpillar and returns to his post at the door. When he’s sure Eames is still going on about the tricks of the caterpillars and their various disguises, Arthur tosses the caterpillar at Eames’ back. It lands on his head.
Eames lets out a yell and proceeds to fall backwards. His arms flail about and Arthur’s laughing so hard he almost drops the camera. Phillipa and James scream and duck under the covers. Arthur watches as suddenly the toy is airborne and Eames goes leaping after it. The scarf has twisted and the knot is now over his eye, the ends fanning out on the side. The kids poke their heads out, laughing once again. Eames wrestles the caterpillar into submission and locks it in the roll down desk.
Arthur shakes his head, shuts off the camera, and leaves while Eames is still bowing.
--
“I think you’ve seen the movie with the weasel too many times,” Arthur murmurs. Eames shrugs as he finishes tucking the kids in for their nap. “What were you even doing?”
“Having fun, using my imagination.” He stretches as he exits the office. “Nice job with the attacking caterpillar.”
“I’ve always found it difficult to resist the impulse to hit you with something,” Arthur agrees. Eames sneers in response and Arthur smiles. “You know you can remove the scarf now, right?”
“You don’t think it makes me look dashing?”
“No, I don’t.” He grunts as Eames grabs his shoulder and spins him around before shoving him against the wall. His head narrowly misses clipping the heavy mirror hanging next to him. “Do you have to keep slamming me against things?”
Eames smirks. “I like you pinned,” he replies simply. He leans in and Arthur almost goes cross eyed staring at the fuzzy orange scarf around Eames’ head. “All adventurers wear eye patches,” Eames adds.
“I am not kissing you with that thing on,” Arthur tells him firmly. He easily breaks the hold and Eames sighs forlornly, leaning against the wall. “You’ll have better luck with the caterpillar.”
“I am not kissing an insect,” Eames protests. He checks his reflection and tilts his head this way and that. “What do you think of this as a new disguise?”
“You’ll be shot in two seconds,” Arthur grumbles.
“Thank you for your contribution, Arthur.” He removes the scarf though, leaves it on the small table under the mirror. “I’m getting one of those cookies you made, want one?”
“Sure.” He trails Eames into the kitchen and waits for him to take out two of the cookies from the bowl.
“How long you think they’ll sleep? I’m knackered after last night,” Eames sighs. He sinks into a chair, feet propped on the one next to it. Arthur shrugs as he sits on his right.
“I don’t know. The medicine I gave Phillipa should knock her out though.” He leans back, chair balanced on two legs. Eames eyes it. “Don’t think about it.”