This was written for livejournal's inception_kink comm/challenge... thing. I was doomed to write it at first sight. I can't resist children, and men taking care of children 3 The Cobb/Arthur is actually pretty platonic until the last line.

Enjoy!

I now pronounce you...

Arthur and Cobb are much more selective about jobs nowadays. In the past, they would take all requests that came their way, regardless of pay or risk or preparation needed. A job was a job, and they made good profit by taking a multitude of small, straightforward missions. But Cobb is back with his kids now, and after spending so much time away from them he's become rather leery about anything that takes him away from home for too long.

Now he only takes the occasional high-paying job— it allows him to stay with Phillipa and James most of the time, and the fortune tides them over until the next high-paying heist comes along. Unfortunately, the risk factor of those jobs is usually high, but that's just the trade-off. In any case, though Arthur usually keeps a pretty tight lid on his arrogance— nothing is more dangerous in their line of work than arrogance— sometimes Arthur thinks that there's nothing out there anymore that they can't take on. So they don't really pay any heed to the risk factor at this point.

'They' because, of course, wherever Cobb goes, Arthur follows. Arthur now finds himself with ample amounts of time (when he's not busy researching their next heist, which does take more time now that they're more and more intricate), and it's time he spends with Cobb and his kids. He's always loved them, from the first moment that Cobb walked out of the delivery room holding a wrinkled thing swaddled in a pink fleece blanket, and shook Arthur awake in the lobby, absolutely glowing as he presented his brand new baby girl.

"I like this place." Cobb grins, balancing James on his lap as he looks around the cozy restaurant, with hand-crafted wooden beams crisscrossing the ceiling, a fireplace in the center, silver-plated silverware on the pristine white tablecloth, and Neapolitan paintings dating from pre-WWI. Across from them, Arthur and Phillipa slide into the booth, and Phillipa immediately picks up the menu, brows scrunching and mouth moving silently as she practices reading. James watches her and reaches his chubby hands for the menu to imitate his sister.

"Papa brought us here once," Phillipa says, and even though it's been over a year since she's taken to calling him that, he still feels that a wiggle of warmth rise in his chest and threaten to overwhelm him.

"I know; he told me." Cobb's gaze flicks from his daughter to Arthur and back, amused as ever at the nickname. He can't thank Arthur enough for helping him take care of the kids after Mal's death, and even now that Cobb has come back Arthur is still here, filling in the holes that single-parenting leaves in their lives.

Cobb's eyes are fond and at peace, almost as they used to be, before Mal. That's both a good and a bad thing – they're not as empty and wild as after Mal's death, and that's certainly a good thing. But they don't have that same life that they had while she was alive either. Arthur has had to come to terms with that fact, and just be grateful for what they have.

"I couldn't think of any other place that kids would like," Arthur responds defensively, as if it were an accusation. "I wasn't going to go a McDonald's or other fast food place." He hates that kind of food. "I figured that everyone likes pizza though."

"So you took them to a high-class pizzeria." Cobb smirks. "If you were a woman, you'd be even more high-maintenance than Mal was." Arthur sputters rather undignifiedly, but can't exactly refute it with his Rolex watch, his impeccably combed hair and his Armani suit.

The kids don't even blink at their mother's name. Cobb talks about her regularly, shows the kids pictures and tells them stories, makes sure that her memory stays alive through them. Arthur has told him that's the much healthier method.

"Alright now, there's pepperoni and cheese," Cobb says to James. "Which do you want, sport?"

Arthur laughs a bit, unfolding a napkin and placing it across Phillipa's lap. "You won't believe it, Cobb, but when I brought them here, he ended up eating half of my pizza."

"It was yummy," James says.

Cobb's eyebrows rise. "But… your favorite pizza is that bizarre concoction of vegetables and fish and God-knows-what that you try to pass off as food."

"Don't knock it until you've tried it, Dom."

"In your dreams."

Arthur considers it. "Sure, why not?"

Cobb rolls his eyes. "Phillipa, sweetie, what would you like?"

"Pineapple pizza!" she says, pointing at the menu and swinging her legs.

Cobb wrinkles his nose slightly. "Honey, I know you've developed a thing for pineapples, but I don't think that they really go with absolutely everything."

"But they have them, Daddy. See? This says 'Hawaee-eean pineapple pizza'." Then she adds with as much conviction as a six-year-old can muster, "It expands your horizons."

"Oh God, what have you done to them, Arthur?" Cobb laments, thunking his head on the back of the booth. He's obstinately partial to cheese, and his idea of daring is pepperoni.

"Expanding their horizons! It's important for children to have a wide range of experiences."

"Papa's right."

"Thank you, Phillipa."

"Yeah!"

"Thank you, James."

Cobb grumbles under his breath and shakes his head, and when the waitress comes by, orders one pizza, half cheese and half Hawaiian pineapple, and one Veggie Lover's (though they call it Sicilian Garden, as if that changes the ingredients) with anchovies, while Arthur pushes the wrapping off a straw and then adds a drop of water to the scrunched-up paper. Phillipa and James squeal in delight as the wrapping unfolds, wiggling and twisting like a worm.

"Hey, Daddy," Phillipa pipes up after the waitress disappears. "Can I have two quarters to get a sticker from the machines?"

"Sure, honey, but a sticker, no candy, alright?" Cobb digs into his pocket immediately, unable to refuse them anything.

"I want a sticker too," James whines, pulling on Cobb's sleeve. So he gives Phillipa four quarters, watching her scamper off to the front of the restaurant. He has to wonder how a place this pretentious manages to pull off a row of quarter machines framed in expensive wood and with gold plating, but he supposes it's too deeply-ingrained of a tradition to have those things in pizzerias. He watches her look through the machines one by one, pondering her selection.

"You didn't correct her pronunciation." Cobb smirks, trying to level a disappointed expression at Arthur, but the twitch of his lips betray him. Considering how good he is at being a conman, Arthur is always surprised at how bad Cobb is at making jokes.

"I thought you would."

"You're the one who started teaching her how to read."

"But you're the parent."

Cobb laughs. "You might as well be too."

James pipes in, "That's why he's Papa Arthur, right?"

"Right on, sport." Cobb high-fives James, wriggling his fingers are he does so. Arthur thinks he does it just to watch Arthur blush at the recognition. Not that he does. Too prominently, at least.

Phillipa comes skipping back, wiggling into the seat next to Arthur, and she seems inordinately pleased with the little eggs in her hands, legs swinging and head bobbing. She gives one to James, saying, "I got you a dinosaur sticker!"

"Like the T-Rex on TV?" James's eyes light up. He's going through a dinosaur phase, with coloring books and blankets and pasta shapes. Cobb and Arthur have had to come up with a slew of dinosaur stories for bedtime reading. Arthur will say that he didn't know that Velociraptors were that small. James fumbles with the egg, small fingers sliding over the smooth surface, unable to dig into the crease, until Cobb reaches over to pry it open.

"What'd you get, sweetie?" Cobb asks, when James is done giving his best impression of whatever noise a brontosaurus would have made.

She beams. "I got a ring!"

"Oh, let's see it," Arthur says, reaching for the egg. Phillipa squeals and hides it behind her back.

"No! Daddy has to open it!"

Arthur feels a twinge of hurt, but children don't ever mean those things personally, so he brushes it off.

"It's a special ring," she explains. "So Daddy has to open it. Because otherwise it won't work."

"What won't work?" Cobb asks, as Phillipa hands over her egg. He pops it open, taking out the plastic silver ring with a big, gaudy sparkling heart on it. "It's very pretty, sweetie."

"It'll look great on you," Arthur adds.

"But it's not for me, silly!" She giggles at the looks that Cobb and Arthur give her.

"Then for who?" they ask in unison.

Phillipa squirms in her seat, about to burst with excitement. "Daddy, it's so you can propose to Papa!"

Arthur and Cobb's eyes widen comically, and they look at each other, then at the plastic ring. They can't help it; they burst out laughing.

"Daddy! Papa!" Phillipa whines. "It's not funny!"

"Yes, yes, you're right, it's not funny, darling," Cobb manages to say, hand pressed against his mouth to stifle his laughter.

Arthur is only a smidge more reserved as he adds, "Certainly not. It's a very serious matter."

They look at each other again and that only makes them double over and burst out laughing again. Phillipa looks scandalized, while James giggles, infected by their laughter.

"Guys! That not polite!"

Cobb's eyes are still twinkling as he holds the ring in both hands, and says with lips pressed tightly together to control their twitching, "Dear Arthur, will you marry me?"

Arthur's eyes are almost invisible dark slits, engulfed by the widening of his cheeks as he smiles, and it makes him look years younger still. "Took you this long?"

"Is that a yes?"

"Of course." Arthur wiggles his pinkie, the only finger that might fit the ring, and Cobb takes his hand and carefully slides it as far as he can, which is only halfway down as it is.

Phillipa squeals and puts her hand over the table. "I now pronouns you Daddy and Papa."

"Pronounce," Cobb and Arthur correct at once.

"I thought it was husband an' wife?" James asks.

"But they're not husband and wife," Phillipa explains patiently. "They're Daddy and Papa. Daddy's a dad, not a husband. And Papa's a papa, not a wife."

James nods, clearly understanding her logic far better than either Cobb or Arthur.

"That was nice of you, Phillipa." Arthur combs his fingers through her hair and feels an odd sort of prickling behind his eyes and blinks quickly, trying to dispel it. When he looks up, Cobb is watching him, chin on his interlaced hands, with something so deep that Arthur has to clear his throat and look back down, pretending to study the giant sparkly heart on his pinkie.

"Someday," Cobb whispers, and Arthur's head snaps up, eyes locking with Cobb's. "Someday I will do that for real."

Thanks for reading!