A/N: Hello! This is my first attempt at writing fanfiction for Inception, and of course I decided to start with my favorite couple-that-never-was from the movie! There's not much to say about it, really. Arthur and Eames are sent to steal a document, they get trapped in an elevator, interesting events ensue. So enjoy! Comments are greatly appreciated.

It was 2:30 am and the Dane-Milton Corp building was dark, quiet and empty, save for the two men making their way down a twentieth floor hallway. They craftily snuck past the security cameras, sinking into the shadows along the corridor walls until they reached the elevator lobby. Of course, this was second nature to Arthur and Eames, both of whom had dedicated a good portion of their lives to stealing things.

"Give it to me," Arthur said, stopping in front of a large potted plant.

"I hardly think this is the time to proposition me," Eames said, arching an eyebrow. Arthur glared at him.

"You know what I meant," he said, holding out his hand. Eames handed him a folder, which Arthur leafed through until he found the page he wanted.

"Yes, this is the right one," he said, reading over the piece of paper carefully.

"Couldn't have checked that before leaving the office, could you?" Eames asked.

"I'm in charge of this operation, Eames," Arthur snapped, closing the folder and tucking it under his arm.

"Sorry, boss," Eames said, shrugging, "hey, there's a role-play we never-"

"Stop," Arthur said, raising his hand, "just...stop."

He turned around, attempting to conceal his burning-red face, and walked straight toward the stairs.

"We're not climbing down twenty flights of stairs," Eames said, not moving, "not when there's elevators right there."

"There's security cameras in those," Arthur hissed, turning to face Eames again. He knew it was hopeless and that Eames wouldn't budge because he was stubborn, but he glared nonetheless.

"You're cute when you glare," Eames said, smirking. Arthur sighed then walked over to the elevator.

"When we get caught and put in jail, I'll tell Cobb not to bail you out," Arthur muttered darkly, pushing the elevator button.

"We'll say we're the cleaners," Eames said, "we'll get away by saying we don't speak English."

"That's incredibly prejudiced of you," Arthur frowned.

"Have a little fun for once, Artie," Eames said. They waited for the elevator to reach their floor in silence. Arthur made a point of avoiding Eames' gaze, which he knew was fixed somewhere on his body. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the elevator reached their floor.

"When we reach the main floor, we find the loading area and get out of the building as fast as possible," Arthur whispered, but before he could step into the elevator Eames had raised an arm in front of him, blocking the entrance.

"Just in case," he said, taking out a handkerchief and, in one swift move that suggested experience, he backed into the elevator and blocked the security camera lens. Grinning, he motioned for Arthur to walk in.

"This better work," Arthur said, stepping in. He pushed the first floor button and stood back as the elevator doors closed and the elevator began its descent.

"So," Eames said after a few seconds of silence, "you, me, and enclosed spaces again..."

"Don't-" Arthur began, but before he could finish he was interrupted by a rumbling noise from above. The elevator trembled from top to bottom and, after a few seconds, came to an abrupt standstill.

"No. No, no, no, this is not happening."

Arthur jammed the elevator button repeatedly, but it was no use. The elevator wasn't moving, and as he continued to push the button the lights flickered off, plunging them in darkness.

"I'd say it's very much happening," Eames said, looking around calmly. Arthur turned around, realization suddenly hitting him.

He was stuck in an elevator with Eames.

"I'm in hell," he said to himself, "I must have died and gone to hell. I always thought maybe heaven would take me in, but I guess I wasn't good enough."

"What are you going on about?" Eames asked, leaning against the elevator wall nonchalantly.

"We're trapped in an elevator," Arthur said.

"I've been through worse," Eames said, inspecting his sleeves.

"We could be stuck here all night."

"I'm in good company," Eames shrugged. Arthur opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again when he couldn't think of anything to say. He focused his energy on finding an exit instead.

"There must be an emergency hatch on the ceiling," he said, looking up. There was no hatch. He looked over at the button panel and, spotting an emergency button, rushed toward it and pushed it. Nothing happened.

"Power's out, love," Eames said. He had sat down on the floor and, judging by the cheery tone of his voice, he was enjoying Arthur's panic.

"Don't call me 'love,'" Arthur snapped.

"You told me I couldn't call you 'darling' anymore," Eames said, shrugging, "I had to find a substitute."

"Fuck you."

"If you insist."

"Stop that!"

Eames raised his eyebrows then went back to inspecting his sleeves, leaving Arthur to fume by himself. Being stuck in an elevator was bad. Being stuck in an elevator while halfway through a job was worse. Being stuck in an elevator while halfway through a job, with Eames, was absolute torture.

"Maybe the power went out in the entire building," Arthur said, "then the security office will have to go out and search the entire building for people trapped-"

"No one is supposed to be in the building," Eames pointed out, "they wouldn't search."

"The camera!" Arthur exclaimed, striding toward the security camera and taking Eames' handkerchief off the lens. He started waving his arms frantically, hoping one of the security officers would spot him. Eames chuckled.

"What?" Arthur asked, wheeling around.

"Power's out," Eames said, watching Arthur amusedly, "security cameras sort of need power to work."

Arthur blinked, feeling his face burning red for the second time that night. He shook his head and began pacing, stopping every other minute to push the emergency button, hoping that one of those attempts would yield positive results.

"It's only 2:45," he said to himself, checking his wristwatch, "the building opens at 6. I can make it."

"In the meantime," Eames said, looking up at Arthur, "you need to relax and sit down."

"How can you be so relaxed?" Arthur asked, glaring at Eames.

"I'm not as uptight as you are, dear," Eames said, and Arthur found himself at a loss for words yet again. He walked to the opposite corner, away from Eames, and sat down.

"This is all your fault, you know," he said, glaring at Eames.

"I didn't turn the power off," Eames said calmly, "though it is very convenient, isn't it?"

"This is not convenient," Arthur snapped.

"It is for me," Eames said, smirking, "when was the last time we got to spend time together, forced or otherwise?"

"Maybe if you hadn't fled to Mombasa after that one job we'd have spent more time together," Arthur said, unable to hide the bitterness in his voice. Suddenly, the air in the elevator felt a lot heavier, and Arthur was sure it had nothing to do with the decreasing oxygen level. He took out the folder they had been sent to retrieve and leafed through it, pretending to be very interested in its contents.

"That was a long time ago," Eames said, and Arthur was surprised to hear no trace of coolness or sarcasm in his voice. For once, he didn't sound confident.

Arthur almost wished he had come up with a cocky comment instead.

"Forget it," he muttered, hiding his face behind the folder.

"No, I won't forget it," Eames said, sliding closer to Arthur, "let's talk, right now."

"Eames-"

"Okay, I'll talk, you listen," Eames said, sitting in front of Arthur, "I fucked up, big time. I had you, then I left because I thought that making a fortune would be better. That's where I fucked up. But now I'm back and this time I'm staying. I'm gonna make it all up to you."

"You don't have to-"

"I want you," Eames said abruptly, "there, I said it. I think you're fucking gorgeous, sometimes when I'm home alone I think about you and I-"

"EAMES."

"And I know you do the same," Eames went on, ignoring Arthur's protesting, "but I don't just wanna have mind-blowing sex with you again, I want to stay afterward and cuddle. Hell, I want to sleep over and stay for breakfast too. I used to think what we had was just sexual, but now I know better. I want to kiss you, dammit, and I can't wait any longer to do it!"

Before Arthur could even begin to protest, Eames had moved in, closing the gap between them. So they kissed, and though Arthur wanted to fight it, the truth was that he had missed this more than anything. He missed the long, passionate kisses that left him gasping for air. He missed the furtive looks and smiles they used to share, and the sex. God, he missed the sex. And as he sat there, kissing Eames, the only thing he could think of was how much these things had been lacking from his life for the last two years.

"I missed you," Eames whispered, snaking his arm around Arthur's neck and pulling him closer.

"Don't leave this time," Arthur whispered back, clinging on to Eames tightly. Eames smiled against Arthur's lips, stroking his cheek with his thumb.

"Wouldn't dream of it."