Playing the Fool

Summary: Miscommunication over a date leads to communication through a different method.

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Note: I don't own Inception. This was written for an inception_kink prompt.

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The first time they met, Eames looked Arthur up and down. Then with a devilish grin and extended hand he asked, "How about you and I get a drink sometime?"

The point man, unimpressed, and trying his hardest to not be fazed, shook the forger's hand, "Not a chance, Mr. Eames."

"Damn," Eames' smile turned to a pout, but he didn't push it further.

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Arthur wasn't a shallow person, but he couldn't stand the garish way that Eames dressed. Once in a while, it looked good, almost put together, but most days it looked as if a blind man had picked out the forger's clothes. He grimaced when he saw Eames walking into the warehouse, coffee in hand, wearing a bright yellow shirt with a hideous brown and green pattern.

"Doesn't he look dashing?" Mal whispered in the point man's ear, her smile being read loud and clear through her words.

"He looks like a clown vomited on him," Arthur scowled, going back to scribbling in his notebook.

"Mon chéri, don't be so harsh," the older woman said, patting the younger man's shoulder and walking away as the forger approached.

"That Mal is a lovely woman," Eames said, sounding cheery and enthused.

Arthur grunted his agreement, refusing to look up from what he was doing. The sound of the coffee that Eames had been holding being placed on his desk didn't make him react either. It was when the forger decided to sit on the desk and on top of all his papers that the point man looked up, glaring.

"Darling, such a gorgeous face should not be graced with such a hideous look," the forger was grinning, teeth showing.

"Don't call me that and get off of my desk," Arthur said, keeping his words low.

"I'll remove myself only if you agree to go have a drink with me," Eames was smiling now, a look that Arthur certainly didn't want to see.

"I'd rather shoot myself in the kneecap."

The forger didn't get up from the desk for a good hour, causing Arthur to throw up his hands in frustration before moving to a corner to continue his work. He wasn't going to admit he sulked just a bit as well.

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Bullets were raining down on them. It sounded like an absolute war zone. Thank god this is a dream, Arthur thought to himself as he reloaded his Glock, feeling the weight of it in his hand. He was about to spring into action when he saw something coming at him from out of the corner of his eye. He was able to press himself back into his hiding place enough to not be hit straight on… by Eames… barrel rolling, forged as a blonde who was busting out of her top her chest was so well endowed.

Moron! Arthur thought to himself as he rolled his eyes. The forger grinned, those red lips seductive and enticing. Those comical breasts were pushed so tight against the strapless top Eames had assembled they looked ready to pop someone's eyes out.

"Did you really have to wear that ridiculous outfit?" Arthur shouted over the sound of gunfire.

"I think it makes me look positively delicious!" Eames answered with his voice just as loud as he armed himself with a submachine gun and opened fire.

"For fuck's sake," the point man had to close his eyes and count to ten to stay composed.

"So darling," Arthur opened his eyes to the sight of Eames pressing his forged body far too close, those round melons so close to the point man's face he was sure he was done for, "How about a date?"

"Not a chance in hell," answered the younger man before elbowing the forger so hard in the chest, Eames had to drop the forge.

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In Paris, Eames asked, "Why don't you and I share a bottle of wine?"

Arthur responded with a glare before turning back to his work.

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In Cairo, Eames placed a rose on the point man's desk, "Wouldn't you enjoy a good night out? With me?"

"Go away, Mr. Eames," was Arthur's only reply. Dom later picked up the rose and gave it to Mal, who was a bit more appreciative of it.

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In New York City, the forger placed a handmade card on Arthur's desk. It was bright pink and was written in glitter pen. The words inside the card asked: Just one night out on the town? Arthur crumpled up the card and threw it in the garbage can, cursing at how the glitter stuck to his hands and clothes.

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In Taipei, Eames was a little more lewd, "A love hotel would be perfect for us don't you think?"

Arthur couldn't suppress the sound of frustration that came out of his mouth. It honestly didn't help that Dom and Mal were there, laughing and smiling at the two of them. The point man simply took a deep breath and repeated his mantra: I love my job. I love my job. I love my job.

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The questions stopped for a full two and a half years after Mal jumped to her death.

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The airport was crowded and Arthur watched as Cobb walked away, heading home to his children. Eames walked up beside the point man, luggage in town, watching as their extractor got into a cab.

"Job well done, I'd say," the forger said, smiling at the point man.

"Yes. I'd say so too," Arthur answered.

"So," Eames smirked, "How about a celebratory drink? Just you and I?"

The point man looked at the forger, that look of frustration flashing across his features. Eames waited for it, the moment of rejection. Then Arthur answered, "Alright."

"What?"

"I said, alright."

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Arthur sat at the bar he had agreed on with Eames, tapping his finger against the counter, one hand on his drink. He glanced at the clock on the wall, frustration building in his chest. He had been waiting for over an hour. His gaze kept shifting to the door, hoping the forger would walk in at any moment, spewing another one of his excuses.

Another hour passed, then another. The glasses were starting to pile up on the table and Arthur could honestly say he was a little more than tipsy. Yet he waited because somewhere in him, he wanted to believe that Eames was a good person and hadn't been fucking with him for all those years.

Four fucking hours, Arthur fumed as he paid his tab and stumbled out of the bar, tired and angry. That's what I get for saying yes.

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Eames was raiding the mini bar in his hotel room when there was frantic knocking at his door. He looked up from the fridge that had been stashed behind the small bar area and gave the door a confused look, as if daring it to make noise again. The knocking turned into pounding, someone obviously slamming their fists against the wood.

"Eames, you had better let me in!" Arthur's voice was unmistakable and extremely frightening.

The forger thought for a long moment, juggling the pros and cons before walking out from where he was standing toward the door. On the one hand, it was always fun to agitate Arthur. On the other hand, the point man sounded furious. And I don't even know why!

When Eames opened the door, Arthur had both hands on either side of the door frame and his eyes were filled with rage, "You're a fucking asshole, Mister Eames."

"Have you been drinking?" the forger asked, already knowing the answer. The smell of liquor was completely unmistakable.

"Yes, you dumb son of a bitch," the point man glared before pushing his way into the hotel room and heading toward the mini bar.

Arthur immediately grabbed the bottles, all of them, that were stashed in the fridge and placed them on the counter. They were placed in the order they would have been arranged in if they were being served at a bar: vodka, gin, rum and tequila. If there had been whiskey, Eames was sure Arthur would have found a place for it.

"You are the biggest asshole I have ever met in my entire life!" the point man rambled as he opened bottle after bottle, not taking a single sip until all the caps were off. Then he slowly made his way down the line, downing the small bottles as he spoke, "You keep coming onto me for all these years and then when I say yes, you stand me up! I was such an idiot to have thought that you were actually serious! I just… I'm so fucking disappointed!"

Eames had to stop Arthur from drinking more, reaching out and grabbing the bottles out of the point man's hands. The younger man gave him a look of disbelief before trying to snatch the bottles back. The forger kept the items away.

"You suck," Arthur said, his voice low and unhappy.

"And you are drunk," Eames replied.

"Thank you for pointing out the obvious."

The point man grunted in annoyance before making his way toward the door. Eames set down the bottles in his hands and went after the younger man, still not too certain of what had just transpired. He called out, "Arthur!"

"What?" the point man didn't turn to face him.

"Did you really wait for me?"

"For almost five fucking hours."

"I'm sorry."

"Fuck you."

The door was slammed shut so hard a framed picture on the wall fell to the floor, glass shattering.

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When Arthur woke, he felt like he was having the worst hangover of his life. He fell out of bed and immediately scrambled for the bathroom, the contents of his stomach unwilling to stay down. I hate my stupid life, he thought as he flushed the toilet and turned on the shower to wash away as much of the previous night as possible.

After the shower, Arthur walked out of the bathroom, ready to pack his bags and get a move on. The sight before him made him stop in his tracks. There was a bouquet of purple hyacinths. The point man stared at the flowers for a long while, not knowing how they made it to his hotel room as he was sure they weren't common flowers in the states. He knew the meaning behind them and they said: I'm sorry.

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On a job in Kowloon, Arthur received a bouquet of daffodils. He didn't have to think hard to understand what they meant, especially with the card that had accompanied them. The card read: I cannot apologize enough. And the flowers said: You're the only one.

He would have been lying if he said hadn't felt something stir in his chest at the sight of those flowers.

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When Arthur returned to the states, he decided to settle down in Boston for a while, renting out a condo and settling himself into a normal routine. On the second week of his stay, there was a knock on his door. When he opened it to greet whoever was standing there, he had a strong urge to slam the door shut, but then his eyes caught the large bouquet of flowers. There were a variety of red flowers, roses, chrysanthemums, and tulips. Then there was a burst of blue forget-me-nots. Every single flower was screaming: Love.

"Why are you here, Eames?" Arthur asked, standing his ground. He had let his guard down once already and wasn't willing to do it a second time.

"I think you know why," the forger answered, holding out the flowers like a sacred offering.

The point man took the bundle of flowers, fingers gently winding around the stems, "No, I don't."

"Because I fucked up," Eames replied with an honest smile, "I screwed up and I'm sorry."

With a sigh, Arthur went against his better judgment and let the other man in.

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"Why didn't you show up that night?" Arthur asked, pouring them both cups of coffee. He took a seat at the kitchen island, holding his mug tightly in his grasp, "I waited so long for you to show up."

"Because I thought you had been joking," Eames answered, his voice soft and apologetic.

"Why would you think I was joking?"

"Why wouldn't I have? You've said no for so long, I was practically in shock when you said yes!"

"That didn't mean you had to leave me hanging!"

"I didn't think you'd actually show up. I thought you were going to have a good laugh about it the next day, tease me about how I waited for you. So, I didn't show."

"Do you really think I'm that cruel?"

"I just didn't want to be disappointed! I didn't want to be left there, looking like a lonely loser."

"How do you think I felt?"

Eames opened his mouth to answer, but found that the words wouldn't come. Instead he pressed his lips together and stared down into his mug. The forger couldn't think, couldn't come up was a concrete reason as to why he was there, practically begging for forgiveness. This was a mistake.

"I should leave," Eames said quietly, not looking up from his coffee, "I shouldn't have come here. This was a stupid idea."

"Eames," the forger slowly looked up at the sound of his name. The point man was smiling, "How about a date?"

"Really?"

"Really."

"You mean it?"

"Yes."

"Seriously?"

"Eames, answer the question."

There was a long pause before the forger answered, "Only if you're paying."

And Arthur laughed, nodding his agreement.

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Note: I really had fun writing this. I hope you had fun reading it! Please leave a review or feedback if you enjoyed this. Thank you!

Also, I will be updating Won't Give In soon, for those who are waiting. Just a heads up!