Just some notes before the main event ^.^
Firstly warnings...this story contains mature content of the homoerotic genre. If you have a problem with this then please do not read any further! The fic is rated M for a reason.
Secondly disclaimer...sadly I don't own Inception, it's characters or any rights pertaining to the movie or otherwise. I make no money from the publication of this story.
Thirdly, I am British, this means that I some words that I take as a given may not make sense to some of you guys. To me pants are a type of underwear, a pavement is something you walk on and chips are something that you eat with fish and sausages covered in salt and vinegar and ketchup! If there's anything you don't understand please ask!
Fourthly, this is the first fanfic I have ever written to completion and certainly the first one I have ever published. I would appreciate any comments and critiques that you care to give, be they of the good or bad variety. It took quite a lot of procrastinating before I finally decided to post this on here at all. I also have a multi-chaptered story which at the moment is in bits and pieces, but hopefully I will finish that at some point in the future. I would like to thank the fantastically wonderful OneWhoSitsWithTheTurtles, who beta'd this story for me and had lovely comments and suggestions which really really helped. It's thanks to her that I am publishing this story at all! Now without further ado...
The Kick of Reality
It was hot...
This must be a dream.
A tongue scraped against his throat diligently lapping up the sweat beginning to bead there before being replaced with the deliciously sharp contrast of teeth, biting, nibbling, marking.
Try to remember how you arrived here.
It was hot...
He groaned, threading his fingers through black hair and tugging slightly, pulling that face up to meet his own in a bruising crush of lips and tongues as they melted together. Brown eyes met blue as they pulled apart, the forger and the point man, worlds colliding.
How did I get here?
"Distracted, Mr Eames?" came that unmistakably amused American drawl from above him as teeth once more nipped at the forger's neck and deft fingers ghosted down his sides causing him to gasp and his back to arch involuntarily.
"N-not at all...A-Arthur." Eames cursed himself for the stutter in his voice, blatantly pointing out his lie.
Try to remember...
Eighteen Hours Earlier...
Passing through the immigration point of Los Angeles airport must have been the most exhilarating and concurrently terrifying thing Cobb had ever done, Eames thought as he watched the extractor from the corner of his vision, waiting quietly in line for his own turn to pass through. He grinned - genuinely happy after all they had been through together on that simple ten hour flight from Sydney - as Cobb passed through the immigration checks with no problems and the man suddenly looked like a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
Well, I guess that's it. He thought absently as he thanked the immigration officer who had just waved him through, no more inception, no more job, back to reality. Why was it that the thought of reality suddenly sounded so monotonously dull and boring?
Grabbing a trolley the forger made his way to the luggage carousel, keeping an eye out for his team mates as he waited for the bags to start coming around. There was Ariadne, standing quietly next to Dom, a bright smile on her face as she stared warmly up at him. I wonder if that will go anywhere? Eames thought quietly to himself; the attraction the young girl had for the extractor was painfully obvious by now.
Yusuf emerged from the men's bathroom looking only slightly worse for wear after his over-indulgence of the flight's free champagne. He gave a wave of his hand and walked slowly over to the forger, asking if he would be travelling back to Mombasa this evening. Eames declined, clapping Yusuf on the shoulder and tipping him a wink as he mentioned Las Vegas and the rather large pay check from Saito which had already deposited into his bank account. Yusuf only shook his head mildly and wandered away, "See you soon, Eames. Good luck."
Their employer already had his bags and was striding slowly away, pausing a moment to speak to Cobb who nodded briefly before turning away.
Arthur stood at the edge of the luggage carousel, leaning absently on his trolley, looking only slightly lost now that he wasn't standing by Cobb's side. Black suit still neatly pressed and hugging his slender form. Eames tried to avoid looking at him for as long as possible, but as usual his eyes betrayed him and he merely ended up staring at the point man who turned his head slowly around as if he could feel Eames' gaze on him. Without knowing what he was doing Eames began wheeling his trolley in Arthur's direction, a smile planting itself on his face.
"Arthur..." he began, and then closed his mouth, not quite sure what he had come over here to say. Spotting one of Arthur's bags saved him the trouble of an embarrassing situation as he leaned over to grab the black leather bag and deposit it on Arthur's trolley, flashing the point man his trademark smile.
"Eames," came the cool, professional reply, Arthur's brown eyes still watching him speculatively. Thankfully his calm stare was broken when he leaned over to collect his second suitcase, swinging it easily from the carousel to his trolley before turning to face Eames once more, "Well, Mr Eames, it was...interesting...working with you again." His face creased into a slight frown, "I imagine you will be spending your hard earned reward in the casinos and bars of Mombasa?" he turned and began to walk away without waiting for an answer. Cool, professional, detached Arthur, walking away again. "Farewell, Mr Eames."
This jolted Eames into grabbing his trolley and wheeling it around in a tight circle, almost causing the thing to tip over, hurrying to catch up with the point man's long strides. "Actually I don't have a flight booked yet, darling," he called, causing other people to turn and stare at the pair of them, "Care for one last drink, a celebration of a job well done?"
"No." came the short reply, Arthur not even turning to look at him as he headed through the arrivals lounge, sending a nod and a smile in Dom and Ariadne's direction. Before he could progress any farther, the young woman came running over to throw her arms around the point man in a tight hug. Eames growled quietly in his throat without realising what he was doing and realised Arthur looked slightly uncomfortable. After extracting the mobile numbers of both men and making them promise not to ignore her calls she finally let them go, though not before throwing her arms around Eames, who hugged her in return, and allowing Arthur to once more gain a head start on him.
He arrived outside just as Arthur managed to hail a cab, the yellow sedan, pulling up near the kerb as the driver emerged to help with the luggage. "Come on, Arthur." he spoke, invading the other man's space and causing him to jump. "I'm not going anywhere and you owe me an explanation of how you managed to drop us in zero gravity!"
Arthur turned, a slightly exasperated expression on his usually calm face. This crossed in to thoughtfulness and finally, "Oh okay...fine, we'll go for a drink. I don't have anything majorly pressing to attend to this evening, get in."
Eames grinned gleefully, heaving his suitcases alongside Arthur's in the trunk of the car, careful not to squash them before hopping in the back seat next to the point man. "So, where are we going?" he asked as the yellow cab pulled away and joined the queue of cars waiting to leave the airport, "Don't tell me you haven't already booked some posh hotel, Arthur because I know you have. You don't leave anything to chance."
"Four Seasons." Arthur mumbled quietly, proving Eames correct, "I do not like living in hovels and if leaving things to chance means not booking a hotel until you choose to roll through the doors then no, I do not leave things to chance." his voice regained its usual calm quality as he continued to speak, "You on the other hand, Mr Eames, have a penchant for gambling more than enough for the both of us. Where exactly were you intending to spend the night?"
"I thought you might like to invite me back to your room this evening, darling." Eames laughed, earning himself a dark look from the other man that obviously said, 'if you don't shut the hell up I will throw you out of this cab right now!'
"No? Well then I guess I'll just get my own room and hope you might join me there instead." he chuckled as Arthur stared at him in shock. He loved riling the point man up and breaking that calm outward appearance, sometimes it seemed like he was the only one who could ruffle Arthur's feathers.
"Shut up, Eames." Arthur closed his eyes, tilting his head back against the headrest tiredly. Though they had technically been 'sleeping' for ten hours on the flight from Sydney to Los Angeles the truth was that the time in the dream world had completely exhausted them both.
"Hey," Eames stopped slouching and sat up in the rough leather seat of the cab, his mind turning back to the inception job, "How exactly did you manage to give us a kick in zero gravity?"
Arthur cracked one eye open and smiled, "I will explain out of present company." he nodded towards the front of the taxi where Eames could see the driver staring at them in the rear view mirror.
The rest of the cab ride passed in relative silence, Arthur's head tilted back against the head rest, eyes closed, his breaths deep and even. Eames knew he wasn't asleep, but nonetheless he couldn't help but watch the other man in the corner of his vision, imprinting the image of a less-than-professional Arthur on his memory. Thankfully the traffic down the interstate and through Beverly Hills was minimal and they arrived outside what had to be one of the swankiest hotels Eames had ever seen just over half an hour later. He whistled lowly at the towering building and grand foyer. Arthur opened his eyes and raised his eyebrows, causing Eames to feel the need to elaborate, "Do you always stay in places like this, Arthur? You must be a hard man to please."
Arthur shrugged nonchalantly, ensuring the driver of the cab was suitably engaged dodging the haphazardly parked cars outside the hotel, "I have been working with Dom for a long time. When working with such a notorious extractor and wanted criminal we sometimes ended up in a different country every week. Chasing a job, running from the authorities, you know?" Eames could hear the honesty in Arthur's quiet voice as the cab rolled up outside the entrance, "There was no point in settling down anywhere so we practically lived out of hotels. All that money from the various jobs we pulled. If we couldn't stay somewhere comfortable, what's the point?" he unclipped his seatbelt and exited the cab, Eames following momentarily, the pair of them hauling their cases from the trunk as a footman rushed over with a trolley to help them.
They followed the young uniformed man through the front doors of the grand hotel, Eames found himself staring around like a kid in a sweet shop until Arthur huffed at him in exasperation. It was beautiful though; a glorious merging of marble and plaster. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling and there were flowers everywhere in enormous vases, sitting in alcoves or on pedestals, beautiful white roses and lilies, their fragrance lingering in the entranceway. Reaching the reception desk they were greeted by a young lady with the widest, most fake smile Eames had ever seen. She babbled a welcome and took Arthur's reservation, finally handing him a keycard and wishing him a nice stay. A curt nod and the point man moved quickly away from the desk, sinking into one of the plush chairs surrounding the reception in a sort of lounge area, his eyes tracking Eames' slow steps to the front of the desk.
Eames sent his most winning smile at the receptionist as he leaned over the desk in an over-familiar manner, watching Arthur's scowl and the woman's immediate blush with interest. Arthur's gaze left him as he closed his eyes once again, unable to fight off the tiredness and jet lag creeping up on him. Eames gave the receptionist his full attention, trying his best to wrangle the room next to Arthur's which was unfortunately taken, and instead ending up with a Premier Suite two floors below and the hapless receptionist's personal phone number tucked in his pocket.
"Hey sleepyhead." Eames smiled, shaking Arthur's shoulder as the point man came awake with a start, "Much as I want to stand around and watch you sleeping away the day, I think we should get ourselves sorted, don't you?" his answer was Arthur standing swiftly and stalking towards the elevators, leaving the forger to push the trolley slowly after them, a wide smirk on his face.
They rode the elevator to the 12th floor, Eames watching Arthur who was leaning a little too causally against the railing, staring silently at the walls until the doors slid open with a ping announcing their arrival. Pushing the trolley down the hallway with Arthur padding quietly behind him, Eames finally spotted the door with the golden letters '1204' hanging above. No wait, there were three doors...three doors into the same room! Eames decided to go for the middle door and chance his luck, "Well here we are then, let's see what Saito's money has bought us, hmm?" He pushed the keycard into the door, relieved when he heard a click and the lock disengaged. Walking into the hallway of the suite, suitcases in hand he paused to stare around, causing Arthur to shift his feet in agitation.
"Do you have any idea how heavy these bags are, Mr Eames?" he grumbled and Eames quickly continued to the living area of the suite, dropping the cases in an inconspicuous corner as he continued to look around, trying to push down the look of incredulity he felt rising to his face.
Arthur unbuttoned his suit jacket, carefully folding the black material and placing it on the dining table before sinking himself bonelessly into a comfy armchair and proceeding to watch Eames pacing around the large suite. "It's something, isn't it? You do get used to living like this. After a while, a place like this ends up feeling a bit like home." Arthur's voice trailed off tiredly.
Eames emerged from the bedroom after staring at the plush king sized bed with a huge smile on his face, "It certainly is something. Definitely a change from Mombasa." he assented, noticing that Arthur's eyes were closed once again as he leaned heavily on the arm of the chair. The forger headed for the minibar, grabbing a pair of glasses and a nondescript bottle of red wine. "Here." he pushed a glass into the other man's hand as the dark eyes rose to meet his, "Don't think this counts as you getting out of our drink together mind. Call it a prequel to the main event." Eames winked, uncorking the bottle and pouring the red liquid into both glasses before placing the bottle carefully on the small coffee table and taking a seat in the chair next to Arthur. "To our success, darling." he raised his glass in a toast before taking a sip. "Now, do explain how you managed to drop us without gravity."
Eames watched as Arthur swirled the wine around his glass, staring into the depths of the liquid for so long that the forger began to wonder if he'd heard. "Well, after the first kick had passed I thought we were all done for." the point man admitted quietly, "I was still fighting random projections that just would not leave me alone and when I came in to the room you were all just sort of...floating around. Then I realised how I could create my own kick in time with the next kick, when the van hit the water - the elevator shaft."
Realisation dawned on Eames at that point and he shot the point man a look of renewed respect, "Arthur, I am impressed. As much as I hate to admit it, Cobb was right, you are definitely the best at what you do."
Arthur smirked, "Your condescension, Eames, is much appreciated, thank you." he shot back, taking a sip of his wine and relaxing back into the chair with a sigh. Eames suddenly got the impression that he would not be seeing this more relaxed version of uptight, proficient, stick-in-the-mud Arthur if the point man hadn't been so very exhausted by the events of the past few days. That thought train derailed abruptly as Arthur continued, "So I had to get back down to 491 to retrieve the charges, haul myself back to 528, getting ambushed by a projection hiding on the ceiling, I had to strangle him with his own arm...it never gets easier you know, killing someone." Arthur's face was contemplative now, staring into the wine glass once again, "The blood, the bullets, the pain. It still seems real, every time."
"I know, Arthur, I know-" Eames was interrupted in his attempt to console the point man as Arthur continued without pause.
"I wrapped you all together with anything I could find, cables from the walls. Pulled you to the elevator then climbed out and set the charges. Blew the supports and set the music so you knew it was almost time. Then counting down until the time came to blow us all to pieces. I had no idea if you were going to wake up, if I was going to wake up."
"You not knowing something, Arthur, that makes a change." Eames chuckled, wondering where stoic professional Arthur had gone; this more open Arthur was making him nervous. He finished off the last of his wine with a gulp and placed the glass on the table with a slight ringing chime as the two glass surfaces connected. Arthur's eyes rose to meet his own once more and Eames thought he could see something he recognised flickering in their depths. Guilt.
"I make mistakes Mr Eames. You witnessed one of them a few hours ago. My research was incomplete; my mistakes could have meant all of us ending up in limbo."
"Cobb was out of order when he had a go at you down there." Eames spoke up immediately, "He was just trying to take the pressure off himself for not telling us about the sedation, the possibility of throwing us into limbo, what his fucked up mind could have pulled us into, and piling all the blame on you instead. It wasn't your fault, he was more at fault than you, Arthur, do you hear me?"
"You wouldn't say that if something had gone wrong." Arthur's whisper almost broke the forger's heart. Yes, there was the guilt. Gnawing at the point man's self-confidence and for a moment, Eames hated Cobb for hammering that guilt home. He watched as the other man raised the wine glass to his lips once more, drowning himself in the comfort of alcohol. It was a situation Eames felt all too familiar with to be comfortable.
"Come on, darling." he smiled, trying to lighten the mood, "I think you need to get some beauty sleep before we head out for the evening, "Up you get." he pulled the point man from his chair as the last of the wine disappeared down his throat and Arthur said nothing about Eames' invasion of his personal space, which usually would have him scowling and pulling away.
Eames grabbed Arthur's case and bag as the point man picked up his jacket and followed him out of the suite. The trolley had disappeared from outside the door and Eames thought that one of the hotel's maids must have taken it back down to the reception. Heaving a put-upon sigh he dragged the cases to the elevator and they rode upwards for two floors in silence. The keycard to room 246 admitted them without pause and Arthur smiled tiredly as Eames passed the cases through the doorway, "Thank you, Eames. I think I will have a nap then shower and change to wake myself up. Flying never really did agree with my head, and the results of mixing that with the inception job are obviously not pretty." he passed a hand over his face, gesturing to himself. Eames tried to refrain from commenting and merely shook his head. "Will you sleep too?"
Eames smiled enigmatically, but didn't answer straight out, knowing that the only reason he was leaving Arthur here was for Arthur's benefit, not his own. The jet lag hadn't kicked in quite yet and Eames would quite happily have stayed awake drinking and talking for all of the sunny Los Angeles afternoon. "I'll knock on you around six, darling, and we'll go for dinner." he began to turn away to leave the point man to his own devices when Arthur spoke up once again.
"Then I am choosing where we go for dinner, Mr Eames. If I must be seen out with you then it will at least be at a place of my choosing. I am not going to some greasy burger joint to appease your ill-bred taste buds." Arthur's smirk revealed his mocking tone even if the rest of him remained as a cool professional, if tired countenance - Arthur was back.
"Feeling better are you, Arthur? As you wish, darling, but in that case I get choice of bar and you have absolutely no say whatsoever. Think you can handle that, Arthur?" Eames' grin never left his face, the challenge in his words and his eyes.
"Deal." the point man sighed, as if wondering why he'd ever decided to agree with this madness. "A shower and a change of clothes will make me feel so much better." he said, almost as if he had forgotten Eames was there. Unfortunately, Eames couldn't pass up the opportunity.
"You could have showered and changed in my rooms if you had wanted, Arthur. No need to come all the way up here." his amused tone and the wide smile caused Arthur to turn and shoot him a withering glance, another sigh passing his lips as his fingers curled around the door handle.
"Don't push your luck, Eames." came the flat reply.
"Dream a little bigger, darling." Eames retorted, chuckling at the memory his words dredged up as the door fell shut with only slightly more force than necessary and he heard the point man's shoes clicking curtly down the hallway.
When Eames got back to his suite he sank down in the chair Arthur had recently vacated, pouring himself another glass of wine and sipping at it slowly, deep in thought. Why am I so obsessed with him? What is it about Arthur that I can spend weeks just trying to get him to look at me and yet I can spend five minutes and get some receptionist's phone number...
The answer, unfortunately was simple: You want him...
Well I think that much was painfully obvious, thank you. Eames replied to his own mind.
No you want him as more than just a quick fuck. You want him, maybe forever.
That little suddenly revealed truth caused Eames to stare out of the window onto the balcony in shock. He had never been one for long-term relationships. He was a forger, he was a criminal, he never knew how long he would be able to remain in once place before being forced to move on. Sure he had his apartment in Mombasa and had been able to keep up residence there for just over a year now, but still, his 'relationships' had always been quick trifling things, over as quickly as they had begun. Now nameless men and women just a string of faces in his distant memory.
He will never look at me twice. So I suppose it really doesn't matter what I want from him.
For some reason this thought made Eames feel slightly better and a whole lot worse simultaneously. He finished the second glass of wine and removed a few things from his suitcase, strewing them about the suite to make it feel slightly more lived-in. Afterwards, he wandered out onto the balcony, staring off onto the horizon at the sights of Beverly Hills. He had never spent any significant amount of time in LA, only between connecting flights, and he watched the busy life of the bustling city people below with a sort of distracted fascination. The cars travelling down the arrow straight streets that Eames could never quite feel comfortable with. In England the roads were often narrow and winding. They seemed, laughably, much more natural than the angular straightness here. He looked out at the mountains in the distance, the cityscape below clashing with that raw natural beauty.
I don't think I could ever get used to living somewhere like this.
He awoke a what must have been a few hours later with a stiff neck from sleeping in what must have been an odd position in the balcony's wicker chair, rubbing his forehead and swearing as he pulled himself up. Evening had begun to descend, the sun hanging lower in the sky and beginning to disappear behind the high-rise buildings of Los Angeles. The hotel alarm clock, sitting at the edge of the bed flashed almost 5pm merrily at him. Just enough time for a shower and a change of clothes before meeting up with Arthur. His stomach bottomed out. Eames forced himself to ignore it and stripped down to his boxers, throwing clothing haphazardly around the floor whilst chuckling at his imagination over what Arthur would say if he could see the state of his hotel room after just a few hours. Grabbing a soft towel from a cupboard he headed into the enormous bathroom, standing under the spray of the shower and groaning gratefully as the last vestiges of sleep, which still clung to him were washed away.
After that refreshing little wake-up call Eames dragged his suitcases through the hallway into the bedroom and began searching through the contents to find something suitable to wear that wasn't completely screwed up and stuffed somewhere in the dark recesses of the case.
I bet Arthur wears a suit. He chuckled to himself, finally pulling out a bright red shirt and eyeing it gleefully. Paired with black denim jeans and an old black corduroy jacket Eames thought he didn't look so bad, sure the jacket was a little worn and the shirt had a few creases, but it had travelled all the way from Sydney after all. Black shoes were a must of course, along with a black belt with a silver buckle, not that you would see the belt as Eames fully intended on not wearing his shirt tucked in.
Checking his wallet, Eames was bemused to find that he had forgotten to change any money before rolling into Los Angeles and begging the co-worker he'd had an idiotic fascination with for a few years out for a drink. Ensuring his card key was stored safely away and picking up the half bottle of wine left over from that afternoon, Eames left the suite and headed downstairs to the reception, which, he had noted earlier, also offered a bureau de change. The blushing receptionist from earlier that day was still on duty when Eames arrived in the lounge and immediately her face turned a pretty pink as Eames flashed her a smile and wandered over. He was in no mood for casual flirting this evening, though he did notice the lovesick-puppy look in her eyes when he spoke to her, damn British accent, always getting me in trouble. However, today, as her gaze followed him back to the elevator, he found it more irritating than endearing.
He tapped his foot impatiently as the elevator made its slow way to the 14th floor, earning himself some curious looks from the other passengers; all suited and booted businessmen probably on their way back from some vastly important board meeting. Finally he arrived at the main door of suite 1006, still finding it strangely odd that one set of rooms would have three doors from the main corridor.
Easy to set up an ambush. The criminal part of his mind supplied helpfully even as he knocked impatiently with his free hand.
The door opened to reveal a much more familiar and awake version of Arthur to the one he had left at that same door a few hours ago. The point man's hair was slicked back, as usual, though it still looked a little wet from his shower. His eyes were sharp and almost predatory and his face was once again smooth and professional, without any hint of emotion as he beckoned Eames through the door. Of course, he was wearing...
"A suit, Arthur, really? Why am I not surprised, you have no imagination." still, Eames had to admit that Arthur looked damn good in a suit. The jacket perfectly tailored and close fitting, hugging his waist. The black and silver waistcoat underneath, just visible beneath the jacket, and beneath that the crisp black shirt - neatly pressed, with wide silver threads running down it, drawing the eye down his thin form - and the silver tie, just the right length, knotted with Arthur's usual precision. Yes, as usual, Arthur looked perfectly gorgeous in a suit.
"Unlike you, Eames, who can make the most perfunctory of clothes clash terrifically." Arthur deadpanned and the forger burst out laughing.
"Touché, darling, touché!" Eames chuckled merrily, "So where are you taking me for dinner?"
"I am not 'taking you for dinner'." Arthur sighed in exasperation, "And you will have to wait and see, wont you. That's if they let you in, dressed like that. Do you not own a single tie?" The small smile was back and Eames' heart fluttered in his chest. The point man had always been so difficult to read, it was one of the reasons Eames simply loved winding the other man up, just to see a reaction on that usually calm face. Even if that reaction usually could only be described as 'irritated'.
"Sorry, darling, but I really don't do ties. They choke my delicate neck." Eames wandered over to the minibar, once again pulling out two glasses and splitting the half bottle of leftover wine between them. "I thought we would have a pick-me-up before we get going." he passed a glass to the other man, still smiling to himself over the suit. Arthur raised an eyebrow at the forger, taking the glass before picking up the hotel telephone to ring down to reception and ask to book a cab for the pair of them 'Downtown'.
"The cab will be here in ten minutes."
Eames used those ten minutes to his advantage, starting out on the story of what the remainder of the team had been put through on the third dream level during the inception job, whilst they both settled comfortably in armchairs sipping their wine at intervals. "I'm impressed you managed to hold off the troops on your own for so long." the point man had no hint of mockery on his face and Eames nearly puffed up with pride. "Those projections of Fischer's were real bastards. I can't believe Saito managed to hold off the guards whilst you were setting the charges around the hospital. It certainly makes you realise how close we were to being truly lost down in limbo."
Arthur shook his head before beginning to speak once more, "I knew Mal was becoming more of a problem. After that time when we were under with Saito and she kneecapped me, I knew Dom had no control over her, that his projections of her were becoming more and more out of control. I couldn't say anything to him, though, she was his whole life. She never stopped being his whole life, even after she died."
"She nearly cost us the entire job. It's only because Cobb and Ariadne were mad enough to make the jump into limbo that Fischer and Saito made it out of there with their brains still intact." Eames sighed, "I don't think Cobb will go back into dream work in a hurry anyway, not now that he's back with his children. Maybe being with them can sort out his psychotic issues, who knows." the forger shook his head, "Come on, darling, enough doom and gloom, let's go."
They picked up the cab outside the hotel, Arthur giving the driver and address 'Downtown' that Eames supposed must be the mysterious restaurant they were heading to, "You know, you could tell me where we're going, Arthur." he grumbled, "It's not like I'll know what the bloody hell you are on about anyway. Do you know the sum total of times I have ever stayed in Los Angeles? Well I'll tell you...none! So there. Now tell me where we're going!" Eames tried whining like a petulant five year old, knowing that it would grate on the point man's nerves.
Arthur simply looked at him, dark brown eyes effectively pinning him to his seat and making him fall instantly silent, "That would ruin the surprise, now be quiet Mr Eames, it shouldn't take long."
Eames took the hint and silently turned his head to watch out of the window as the lights of hundreds of cars sped past them, the city flashing past in a blur of brightly coloured lights. True enough twenty minutes later the cab pulled up at the side of the road.
"The Walt Disney Concert Hall?" Eames just had to say, totally confused and staring at the large building in front of them as they stepped out on to the pavement. "You're not dragging us to some musical dinner are you, Arthur?" the point man took absolutely no notice of him whatsoever as he strode up to the entrance of the building, entering without looking behind him and Eames had to jog to catch him up, "Come on Arthur, what's going on, where are we going?"
Eventually Arthur pointed at a large, well-lit restaurant, the fancy lettering over the entrance proclaiming its name 'Patina'. "Award winning French cuisine." said Arthur smugly standing next to him. "I made a reservation this afternoon."
The impeccably dressed waiter took Arthur's reservation and guided them to their table, thankfully in a quiet corner away from the centre of the busy restaurant. Still, Eames could feel eyes glancing in their direction, judging, always judging, unconsciously digging for weaknesses. He held his head high and blanked them all. If Arthur noticed his behaviour he didn't comment, his air of self-confidence seeming to wrap him in an impenetrable bubble.
The waiter handed them a wine list and hovered over their table for a few minutes before Arthur spoke, "A bottle of Pessac-Leognan, please." his tongue skipped over the French words as if he'd been born speaking them and Eames suppressed a shiver, still feeling eyes fixed somewhere on his back. The waiter returned moments later with two menus and a vintage looking bottle of wine which he uncorked and poured a tiny amount into each of the tall wine glasses for both men to taste. Arthur swirled the glass between his fingers and sniffed delicately, looking for all the world like a professional wine connoisseur, before taking a sip and nodding thoughtfully. Apparently, the ritual now over with, the bottle was placed in the middle of the table between them. The waiter read out the evening's special dishes and disappeared, assuring them he would return momentarily.
"Too much for you?" Arthur motioned to the table seriously, though if you looked closely, Eames thought, you could definitely see a smile hiding in those brown eyes.
"Not at all, darling." the forger replied quickly, his line of work allowing him to quickly study and adopt the mannerisms of the patrons of this establishment and so he mimicked almost perfectly the way in which Arthur had tasted the wine. "Contrary to your belief I am not so far behind you down the social scale as you might think. I only wish you had warned me before we left the hotel. I'm dressed for a night out on the town, whereas you are dressed like you were born for places like this."
"Maybe I am just pretending?"
Eames shot him his best condescending look, one he had picked up from the director of a multi-national company a few years ago whilst on a job, "Don't be stupid, Arthur, you may be the best point man in the business, but you would make a god awful forger."
"I don't know whether I should be pleased or offended by that remark."
"Well I have to keep myself interesting, darling. What part would I have left to play in your life if I could no longer irritate you?" Eames spoke with a grin.
"You don't always irritate me." Arthur fingered the neck of his wineglass thoughtfully but wouldn't meet his eyes. "Just most of the time." he took a sip, Eames realising this was just an excuse so he could stop talking.
"I'll just have to try a little harder then, darling, wont I?" the forger winked and Arthur shook his head and rolled his eyes.
A comfortable silence fell between them both as they perused the menus, Eames grateful to see that he could at least understand the meaning of some of the dish titles, enough that he could choose something he wanted without too much difficulty. Minutes later the waiter returned, notepad in hand, waiting patiently for them to make a decision. Arthur chose risotto as a starter, and for his main course, duck, which surprised Eames, slightly; he would have made a bet on the point man choosing lobster or some other seafood dish. Then again, Eames had always been an all-or-nothing gambler, either on a winning streak or a catastrophic loss. He absently hoped that this was not a precursor for the rest of the night as he also decided on risotto to start off, followed by beef tenderloin.
After the waiter had departed they chatted easily together, each recounting the times between when they had last pulled a job together. Arthur, of course, had been with Cobb, supporting him after Mal's untimely death and following the slightly off-balance extractor in to frequently more dangerous jobs. He refused to talk about some of the jobs, his dark eyes gathering a haunted look which made Eames change the subject and begin talking about his own endeavours before the point man closed himself off completely.
He in turn told Arthur about his experiences in Mombasa, his gambling exploits, his infrequent jobs after the failed inception job he had tried to pull with another, less experienced team, never quite finding adequate people to ally his skills with. "Everybody wants a forger, you see, but a team is only as good as the weakest player." this had Arthur nodding in agreement, his eyes finally losing that faraway look. Eames finished with the string of failed relationships, "Most of them I don't even remember their faces, let alone their names. Just another way to convince myself that I could function in reality, that I could still be comfortable in my own skin." he paused to find Arthur frowning at him with a look of concern, "Don't worry, darling, I wont end up living in the dream."
The starters arrived and were finished off in record time, Eames wondering why anyone would bother coming to a restaurant where the amount of food was too small to sustain a rat. They started on their second glass of wine as the plates were cleared away and they waited for the main event. "How did you know to find me in Mombasa anyway?"
"I would not be much use if my research could not tell me where old team members were hiding out, would I, Mr Eames."
"You were keeping a watch on me? How sentimental of you, darling, and all along I thought you had an eye for our little Ariadne!"
"I don't-" Arthur stopped himself with a scowl, "She was too young and immature for me, and definitely prone to irritating outbursts." Eames speculated on what would have followed the 'I don't'.
"And yet, Cobb seemed quite taken with her and I saw you kissing her in the hotel before it all kicked off. Why did you kiss her?" he asked curiously, expecting the point man to deflect the question or simply refuse to answer.
"I knew you were watching." his eyes widened immediately and he quickly stared down at the table, his face smoothing out and becoming that impassive mask once again. He was saved from further embarrassment by their food arriving and tucked into it, ignoring the forger completely.
Interesting...what is that supposed to mean? He knew I was watching...
Dinner was done with and the plates hastily cleared away, the pair still sitting in silence as Eames ordered them a single shot of brandy each, the wine now long gone. The cognac arrived and Arthur stared into the amber liquid, making a face as he tossed it back in one. His brow wrinkled as Eames tossed his back and smiled, sighing appreciatively, "I take it you are not a fan of brandy, Arthur?" the forger chuckled as the cheque arrived and Eames immediately placed his hand over it, sliding it to the edge of the table before flipping the little leather book open and staring at the total.
"Let me pay." Arthur regarded him quietly from the opposite side of the table, "At least let me pay for my share."
"No, Arthur." the forger replied flatly, "It is by my insistence that you agreed to come out with me tonight, and therefore my insistence must stand and front the bill." he tipped the point man a wink and smiled widely, "Besides, the next few hours of your company will more than make up for the loss in my bank account!"
He paid by Visa, leaving the unobtrusive but polite waiter a suitably large tip as the man practically ran to fetch their jackets. Wrapped up against the cold once more the pair stepped back out onto the pavement, and Eames almost immediately jumping into the road and flagging down a passing cab.
"The Edison." he tipped the driver a wink as they set off, pulling up next to a long queue of people just a few blocks later. "Huh, if I'd known it was this close we could have walked." he muttered, paying the driver and stepping out of the yellow sedan. "Looks like there's a bit of a wait to get in, darling, is that okay with you?"
"The bar was your choice, Mr Eames, if this is where you want to take me, then we'll wait." the point man followed him to the back of the queue, thrusting his hands into his pocket and shifting his weight to keep warm. Eames sidled up next to him, as close as he dared into Arthur's personal space, slipping an arm around his waist before quietly pulling him closer. "What exactly do you think you are doing?" came the dangerously low voice; Arthur was staring at him, his eyes dark, unreadable.
"Just keeping warm, darling." Eames replied affably, not meeting the other man's eyes, "Don't want to freeze to death out here before we ever get through the doors. Right?" the point man regarded him for a long moment, his eyes flickered with an emotion the forger couldn't quite place, which, as someone who deals in emotion and mannerisms, annoyed the brit immensely. But Arthur suddenly relaxed his stiff posture, leaning against him slightly and his slight shivering ceased, the dark eyes closing momentarily as the point man soaked up his warmth.
The line dwindled quickly, though that didn't stop the stares that people threw in their direction. Eames allowed them to bounce off him and was pleased to see Arthur shoot one particularly sneering gentleman a sharp glare whilst moving purposefully closer to the forger as if to prove a point. The force of his glare sent the man scuttling back down the line.
Stepping past the doormen, with Arthur slowly pulling away from him and setting distance between them once again as they checked their jackets into the cloakroom, knowing that with the number of people in an establishment like this they would have no need for the extra layers. They made their way down the iron stairs into the club and Eames was delighted to see 'The Edison' was exactly as the leaflet he had picked up in the hotel reception had proclaimed it to be. The bars were laid out in separate areas, all very old-style with flagstone flooring, polished wood bars and old ironwork decoration in the shape of generators and various other electrical inducing equipment adding to the themed feel of the basement.
The forger and the point man threaded their way through the crowds to the main bar area the pair of them leaning against the polished wood, and trying to catch the attention of the bar staff. Eventually Arthur caught the attention of a young man who stared appreciatively at the point man in a way that made Eames bristle at his side. He ordered a dry straight martini, flicking his gaze to Eames who ordered a double brandy on ice and then smiled at the young man as he scurried off to get their drinks. "You were never this open with us, Arthur, why?" he blurted out before realising what he was saying.
"I know how to get served in a bar, Mr Eames." the point man replied haughtily as the young man returned with their drinks and Arthur handed over a crisp note, "the point is to make yourself as appealing and yet enigmatic as possible. I'm sure you are perfectly aware of how it works, being a studier of people yourself."
"You should smile more often, Arthur." Eames replied seriously as the man dropped the change into his hand with a wide smile and the point man diverted his attention for a moment to nod politely before he turned back to the other patrons waiting to be served. "Come on, let's have a look around this place."
"Inception didn't give me much of a reason to smile, Eames." the point man pushed himself away from the bar with a clouded look on his face, drink in one hand as he followed the forger winding his way among the groups of people as they explored. They passed through a few smaller bar areas, each pumping out a different genre of music, with people scattered here and there in armchairs or dancing half-heartedly, the night not really progressed far enough for the public displays of drunkenness just yet. A games room held a few pool tables filled with young men showing off their talent for the scantily clad women displaying themselves on the barstools.
"Fancy a game?" came a voice beyond one of the tables.
Eames shook his head, "No thanks, I never was all that fantastic at American pool." Two girls sat around a tall table giggled at his accent, fluttering their eyelashes hopefully. Eames gave an annoyed sigh, stalking from the room quickly, Arthur following confusedly in his wake.
"What was all that about?" the point man enquired, ever the sharp observer.
"Just my usual unfaltering charm, Arthur darling, in case you hadn't noticed, I hold quite a distinctive British accent." Arthur snorted and shook his head.
"That's not what I meant. I wouldn't have thought you would have passed up an opportunity to show off."
"Thank you for your observation, Arthur." the forger huffed, looking around the room they had escaped into. The stage caught his eye almost immediately. A woman in her mid-twenties stood at a microphone in the centre of the stage, staring uneasily at the crowd which had formed around her and warbling off key to music as the words to a currently popular song flashed across the screen in front of her.
Brilliant! Karaoke night...this should be fun!
He turned to catch Arthur's eye, raising his eyebrows, asking the question without even having to open his mouth.
"No." came the instant, flat reply.
"Oh come on Arthur, live a little!" Eames whined.
"No."
"Please!" more whining.
"You can ask as many times as you like, but the answer will remain no."
"Scared of a challenge, Arthur, darling? I never had you pinned for a coward." he tipped the point man a wink whilst simultaneously shaking his head sombrely.
The sudden glint that flashed across Arthur's brown eyes gave Eames all the reply he needed and a smug smile threatened to take over his face before he forced it quickly back down. "Accepted, Mr Eames," came the point man's drawl, "But you of course will be taking centre stage first."
"Of course, love, of course. I never expected anything less."
Oh yes, this will be fun.
Eames dragged Arthur over to the table where a bored looking man had a large book full of the available songs and kept a list of who was waiting for their time on stage. The forger flipped through the book, Arthur sipping his drink next to him, looking bored as his eyes scanned through the pages. His smile widened, threatening to hurt his jaw as he spotted one particular song, pointing at it and giving the man his name. "Your turn, darling."
He watched as Arthur flipped quickly through the book, wondering if Arthur would pick some weird operatic song or some kind of famous musical. He wondered if the karaoke machine even had those kinds of songs. Maybe the point man would drop out of the challenge altogether.
"Are you coming or what?" came the familiar American voice from behind him. "He said it will be at least half an hour before our turn. Enough time for another drink, don't you think?" Arthur smiled, heading for the bar, Eames watching him all the way.
Two hurried drinks later and the man from the table was beckoning them over, pointing at the stage as the man standing upon it finished his awful rendition of 'Living on a Prayer'. Placing the microphone back into its holder and almost falling down the steps in his haste to get away from the heckling of the gathered crowd. Eames slowly made his way through the crowd, leaving Arthur standing on the edge near the bar, drink in hand, swirling the glass between his fingers absently.
Stepping up on stage the forger could feel eyes everywhere turning to watch him. Being someone who made a living by fading into the background and studying the habits and mannerisms of others he found the undivided attention of the crowd especially unnerving.
The music started up and a grin settled itself on his face. Pulling the microphone from its resting place as the first unmistakable guitar chords sounded. Picking Arthur out of the crowd his smokey blue eyes met the point man's own brown counterparts, and as he began to sing, the world pinpointed to that one gorgeous man standing at the bar.
"Lay where you're laying, don't make a sound,
I know they're watching, they're watching.
All the commotion, the kiddie like play,
Has people talking, talking.
You, your sex is on fire.
The dark of the alley, the breaking of day.
The head while I'm driving, I'm driving.
Soft lips are open, knuckles are pale.
Feels like you're dying, you're dying.
You, your sex is on fire,
Consumed with what's to transpire."
People were staring now; Eames could feel their hot gazes flickering between himself and Arthur in speculation and confusion. The point man had a faint blush on his cheeks which the forger had never before witnessed, and was doing his very best to appear calm and unfazed by Eames' unflinching attention. He raised his drink like a shield between himself and the watching crowd, but did not lower his eyes. Eames continued his song without breaking eye contact, his words a private challenge.
"Hot as a fever, rattling bones,
I could just taste it, taste it.
If it's not forever, if it's just tonight,
Oh, it's still the greatest, the greatest, the greatest.
You, your sex is on fire,
And you, your sex is on fire,
Consumed with what's to transpire.
And you, your sex is on fire,
Consumed with what's to transpire."
Eames bowed to the smattering of applause at the end of his song. Throwing the microphone back into its holder and swaggering down the steps with an air of self-confidence he'd perfected over the years. Taking the drink from Arthur's hand he used the glass to gesture to the stage, "Your turn, darling."
Arthur ignored him, striding past as the crowd parted to let him through. He took the microphone from the stand and stood as if he was perfectly comfortable with being on stage in front of a large group of people.
A familiar song began to play and Eames stared at the stage in shock, he knew this song! It's definitely not opera or musical either! Arthur's eyes trained on the floor as he began to sing.
"Strain this chaos turn it into light,
I've got to see you one last night.
Before the lions take their share,
Leave us in pieces, scattered everywhere."
Arthur could sing, Eames thought as he waved the barman over to get another drink. Another talent in the point man's repertoire that Eames had simply had not known existed until tonight. His voice lost its American drawl as he sang and the notes were clear and true in a remarkable impression of the band's lead singer. His eyes had risen from the floor now as his confidence kicked in once again, meeting the ogling looks of the bystanders below.
"You're cinematic razor sharp,
A welcome arrow through the heart.
Under your skin feels like home,
Electric shocks on aching bones."
The drinks arrived behind him and Eames swallowed the first one quickly, the liquid burning a path of fire down his throat and warming his stomach, sitting there to join that strange feeling that the forger could not shake every time his eyes fell on Arthur. The point man launched into the chorus, back straight, face devoid of emotion, but his words strong and sharp.
"It's so clear now that you are all that I have.
I have no fear cos you are all that I have.
It's so clear now that you are all that I have.
I have no fear cos you are all that I have."
Arthur's face suddenly rose, those dark eyes fixed on Eames, picking him out from across the room and sending a shiver down his spine. A small smile twisted the corners of his mouth upwards, unnoticeable if you weren't looking for it...Eames was always looking, Eames lived for those small smiles and those dark eyes pinning his soul. Their gazes locked and held as Arthur continued to sing.
"There is a darkness deep in you,
A frightening magic I cling to."
The moment was lost as Arthur dropped his stare, once again singing to the crowd, yet still Eames' heart felt as if it were about to burst from its ribcage and the half formed erection sitting in his pants belied just how affected the forger was. He spent a minute trying to collect himself, breathing deeply, not trusting himself to raise his eyes to the stage once again he listened to the final words.
"It's so clear now that you are all that I have,
I have no fear now you are all that I have.
It's so clear now that you are all that I have,
I have no fear now you are all that I have."
As the music died away and the crowd clapped enthusiastically, Eames decided it was safe to look up once again, finding Arthur standing on the edge of the bar area watching him with a mildly curious expression. Eames swallowed hard and smiled widely as the point man approached. "That was bloody fantastic, darling, but really...Snow Patrol?"
"Did you honestly expect me to agree to something if I was not absolutely sure I could pull it off, Mr Eames?" Arthur smiled smugly at him, "And I am sorry to corrupt your obviously flawed opinion of me, but I do have musical interests outside of classical and opera." he laughed his eyes crinkling around the edges and his face completely open for the first time in Eames' memory, and the forger's heart suddenly found itself lodged somewhere halfway up his throat. He's so beautiful...
"Come on, let's go and find somewhere to sit down." the forger mumbled when he had regained the ability to speak without embarrassing himself. Grabbing Arthur by the waistcoat, he thrust the man's new drink into his hands and began to pull the point man through the crowd.
They found a few empty seats around a table in a smaller room of the club, the dancefloor filled with sweaty bodies as the bass pulsed through the floor making it hard to talk without shouting. Arthur collapsed into a chair, miraculously not spilling his drink whilst Eames headed to the bar to grab a couple more shots whilst the queue wasn't too horrendous. As he approached their table he grinned with glee on noticing that the point man had reverted to his usual habit of leaning on two chair legs. Dropping the drinks onto the table he sat down before sticking his leg out and casually tipping Arthur's chair backwards, making the point man flail wildly and throw himself forwards with a start and a scowl. "You never learn, do you, darling?" Eames laughed.
"And you just can't resist can you?" Arthur retorted, "Well at least I know I'm not asleep." a smile replaced the scowl as Arthur shook his head ruefully. He picked up a drink and tossed it back, licking his lips and leaning back in his chair. Eames watched him as his sipped his own drink slowly, the point man finally excusing himself to go to the toilet. Eames found himself unconsciously staring at the other man's ass as he left the room. He sipped his drink slowly, leaning back against the chair and sighing heavily.
I've fallen hard. Bloody hell I've fallen so hard.
He spotted the point man as soon as Arthur returned through the door; that easy, catlike, dangerous grace; those watchful brown eyes; the air of self-confidence which made people around him stop and stare; the perfectly fitted suit; the smile in his eyes which did not quite reach his mouth. Eames found himself on his feet as the other man approached.
"Arthur..." he hated how his voice came out half hoarse whisper, half growl, "Arthur...dance with me...please."
This resulted in raised eyebrows from the point man and a long, searching look from those dark eyes before, finally, a slow nod as Arthur picked up his drink, stared for a moment into the depths of the glass and then tossed it straight down his throat. "Alright."
Arthur sashayed around the dance floor, moving perfectly to the beat as if the bass originated from his very soul. He seemed unaware of people around him as he lost himself in the music, the other patrons of the club moving instinctively out of his way. Eames knew he was rooted to the spot, his mouth open and eyes fixed on the point man as if nothing else in the world existed but honestly, he couldn't bring himself to care. Then Arthur was watching him, pinning him with his dark eyes half closed as he moved to the beat, his feet gliding, slender hips moving almost sinfully. He held his hand out in Eames' direction and the forger could only just make out his words, "You asked me to dance with you, are you actually going to move or just stand there all night?" the point man came closer, still swaying with the beat until his mouth was brushing the forger's ear. Eames swallowed hard, his mouth going dry. "Well?"
It would have been so easy then, to turn his head and capture those lips with his own. But Arthur drew him forwards and the moment was lost. Eames nervously began to move to the heartbeat of the bass as Arthur once again moved across the floor as if he owned it. A young woman placed a hand on his hip and the point man turned to stare at her as she practically thrust her bust and hips at him. Eames growled and interposed himself between the two, sending the girl scuttling away with a glare he had improvised from a job the year before.
"Thank you, Mr Eames." Arthur's voice held a somewhat amused quality to it which made the forger blush, "This, you see, is why I don't dance at places like this. Ballroom yes, classes maybe, but at a place like this you're just asking to get set upon."
"Darling you don't need to be dancing to be set upon in a place like this. You just attract people naturally. The guy at the bar earlier is enough to prove that theory."
"Jealous, Mr Eames?"Arthur's hips still moved in harmony to the beat - he swayed unknowingly, unable to keep himself still in the face of the fast-paced music - his eyelashes fluttering as his eyes fell shut.
I've had enough of this pretending. I want him.
"Yes." the forger replied in a flat tone, "I'm jealous of anyone who can catch your eye, Arthur." the brown eyes snapped open as Eames pushed forwards, backing the point man against a wall at one corner of the dance floor. Arthur watched him with a curious look in those brown depths, not yet protesting over their physical closeness.
Eames pressed against the other man, reaching his hands up to tangle in the black hair and pulling the man into a kiss. Their lips met and Eames groaned under his breath, aware of eyes on his back but at that moment not caring who was watching them. He flicked his tongue out, teasing the other man's lips as Arthur remained stiff and unyielding beneath him, dark eyes wide and shocked.
The forger backed up a step, giving the man some space as his mind whirled. Past the point of no return now. What have I done? Oh well onwards to further unknown heights of stupidity!
"I want you." his voice emerged as an unrecognisable low rasp, "I know, I know, I irritate you beyond measure, we're not friends, we're hardly co-workers and you don't like me. You're professional, no-imagination Arthur and I'm the quirky British guy who can't keep his mouth shut. I know, and I tried so hard, Arthur, really I did."
"Shut up, Eames." Arthur took a small step forward and his fingers grazed the side of Eames' face, rubbing his cheekbone and making him shiver and lean into the touch. The forger tilted his head up, his own blue eyes closing as he pressed his mouth against Arthur's once more. Time really did seem to stand still as they kissed, their mouths fitting perfectly together, Eames' tongue teasing Arthur's lower lip, his teeth nipping until the point man opened his mouth to let him in. He explored the other man's mouth languidly, his tongue lapping at Arthur's teeth, grazing the roof of his mouth and finally joining the other man's tongue in a delicate dance which quickly turned into a battle for dominance, leaving them both gasping for breath.
Arthur pulled away first, his back against the wall once more, "You don't always irritate me." he spoke quietly, his mouth next to Eames' ear once again, making the forger's hair stand on end. "But you've always been able to get under my skin in a way no one else ever could." the point man nipped at the shell of his ear causing him to jump and pull Arthur from the wall.
"Let's go, darling. I think I've had enough of drinking and dancing for one night." he smirked, "Besides, people are starting to stare." he chuckled, watching a blush creep up the usually confident point man's neck. The pair stumbled up the iron stairs, quickly picking their jackets up from the cloakroom and throwing themselves into the fresh air of the street above, the pounding of the bass still ringing in their ears, the alcohol keeping their bodies warm.
It was Arthur who managed to flag down a cab. Luckily the streets were relatively empty; it being too early for the all-nighters to be rolling out of the clubs, too late for the day-drinkers to be heading home. The point man gave the driver the address of their hotel before leaning back against the leather seats and sighing his head tilted back and exposing his throat. Eames couldn't help but stare, his hand reaching out to trace patterns on the other man's open palm. Arthur didn't move.
They fell out of the cab as it pulled up outside the brightly lit foyer of the Four Seasons. Arthur pressed some notes into the driver's hand and thanked him before he pulled off and disappeared down the street. Eames noticed him shiver as the cold hit them both and quickly wrapped an arm around the thinner man, pulling him closer and smiling as Arthur leaned into his warmth. The night doorman held open the door with a knowing smile which made the point man blush once again and dip his head in embarrassment. Really, it was quite endearing.
"You are a lot more forgiving when you're drunk, darling." the forger murmured.
"I am not drunk, Mr Eames, I am merely comfortable. I can hold my drink perfectly well, thank you." Arthur replied as Eames watched him quietly; his footsteps were quiet and even and it seemed the point man was telling the truth, "You have never seen me when I don't have the worry of a job on my mind."
"You're a workaholic, Arthur." this earned him a scowl and resulted in Arthur pulling away sharply to regard him silently for a few moments.
"If I do not do my job to the best of my ability I potentially endanger the entire team." he spoke finally, his voice low and dangerous, back stiff as his hands clenched into fists. That guilty look present in his eyes once more.
"Relax, darling." Eames held his hands up placatingly, "It was a joke." he called the elevator, shaking his head as Arthur leaned against the marble-effect wall and closed his eyes.
"I'm sorry." the words were a half whisper and Arthur's eyes remained closed, "The inception job, I never wanted to be a part of it in the first place. I did it for Dom, for the kids, but I was under no illusion that it could be done. Then you showed up, do you even remember how long it had been since we worked together?" Eames did remember - how could he not – but remained silent as Arthur continued, "It seemed like we might get somewhere, that maybe it was possible after all. I thought I had everything on Fischer, that there would be no surprises, really I did. Then as soon as we went under it all went to hell. We were so close to not coming out."
"I wouldn't have minded growing old with you, darling, even if it was only a dream."
Eames found himself being backed into the lift, Arthur's hands pushing against his shoulders until the small of his back hit the cold metal railing. Arthur's mouth covered his own and Eames' mind went temporarily blank, the point man ravaging his mouth, claiming him as all he could do was stand under the tidal wave of emotions which assaulted him.
I want him.
"My room or yours?" the growl which emerged from his throat was guttural and filled with lust. Arthur laughed, his eyes sharp and his arms still pinning the forger to the side of the lift.
"Well, yours is closer."
"Mine it is then!" pressing the button for the 12th floor his smile was feral and as the lift jumped into motion, Arthur's hands moved away from his shoulders, running slowly down his ribs. Eames shivered, the hairs on his arms standing on end as Arthur's fingers feathered down the creases of his shirt. The point man moved away, leaving Eames shivering for an entirely different reason as the cold hit his body. He wrapped his arms around himself and regarded Arthur who was leaning casually on the opposite side of the lift with a look of confusion on his face as he stared at the floor, tapping his foot absently.
Arthur trailed behind him as Eames fished his keycard out of his pocket, pushing the door open to admit them both. The door clicked shut and this time it was the forger who pinned the other man to the wall, his blue eyes searching that handsome face for any hint of doubt. "Are you sure you know what you're doing, darling?"
Arthur didn't answer, simply closing his eyes and tilting his head back against the wall, exposing his throat. Eames' fingers acted without his brain as they rose to stroke Arthur's jawline, trailing down his throat as the forger stepped close enough to brush his mouth gently against that exposed skin. Tiny kisses, up the point man's throat, teeth nipping at his jaw before the other man finally gasped and pulled him into a kiss, their tongues fighting for dominance as their breathing degenerated to short pants.
"Bedroom." Eames pulled the other man down the hallway, their footsteps ringing on the hard wooden flooring, making entirely too much noise to be polite. They reached the bedroom and Eames collapsed backwards onto the enormous king sized bed, kicking off his shoes and socks before throwing the corduroy jacket to the floor as he went. He watched as the other man followed softly behind him, pausing a moment to glance around the room and pacing over to the patio doors, which closed off the balcony. Arthur stood for a moment, taking deep breaths as he looked out over the streets of Beverly Hills. He shrugged out of his suit jacket, laying it carefully across the back of an armchair as he drew the curtains, also pulling off his shoes and socks, placing them underneath the chair.
His footfalls were silent as he came to sit on the edge of the bed, loosening his tie. Eames grabbed the offending slip of material, using it to pull Arthur closer, to capture his lips one more time, "You wear far too many layers, darling." he panted as they broke apart, "It's very tiresome." he looped the tie over the point man's head, dropping it to the floor and laughing at Arthur's scandalised look. His hands worked on the buttons of the waistcoat, slipping it off Arthur's shoulders and tossing it to join the tie on the floor.
"Layers are what keep people like you at bay." Arthur taunted, "I did wonder how you could make so much mess in so little time." he laughed shortly, "Now I know the a-answer." his words ended in a gasp as Eames' hands finished their task of pulling the shirt from Arthur's trousers and his fingers slipped under the material skipping over warm skin.
Arthur straddled his waist, the slender man sitting on his stomach, legs folded on either side of Eames' body. His hands worked expertly on the buttons of the forger's red shirt, pulling it from his shoulders as Eames lifted his upper body so the offending article of clothing could be removed. Eames quickly divested Arthur of his own shirt, both falling discarded to the floor as Eames chuckled, "You always were a quick learner, Arthur."
That earned him a nip on the ear as the point man leaned over him. Eames jerked and swore, "Bloody hell."
Present time
It was hot...
I remember.
Arthur leaned back to look him in the eye, his hands falling to his sides, "You seem pretty distracted to me, Mr Eames."
This isn't a dream!
"I was just thinking, darling, that you continue to be far too well-clothed for my liking." Eames bared his teeth, bucking his hips and causing Arthur to lose his balance. That split-second of uncertainty was all he needed to switch their positions, Arthur writhing beneath him his brown eyes wide in shock. "That's better; now, let's see what we can do to remedy this situation."
Arthur whined low in his throat, brown eyes darkened with desire, his hands reaching up to grasp at the forger's arms.
"Ah-ah." Eames shook his head, smiling and capturing Arthur's hands with his own, forcing them back down to his sides, "Keep still, darling, don't move." Arthur's eyes searched his momentarily; Eames wasn't quite sure what he was looking for, but the point man must have found it because his head fell back onto the pillows with a groan and his hands stilled.
Watching calm, composed, controlled Arthur slowly unravelling was, hands-down, the most erotic thing Eames had ever seen. The point man's pupils were dilated, his hair splayed across the pillow and his breath came in short pants. The way his back arched off the mattress and his eyelids fluttered closed when Eames ran his fingers lightly down the man's ribs was just exquisite. "Arthur, darling, did you know you're gorgeous like this?" the forger breathed, meeting that dark gaze once again and earning himself a quirked eyebrow and a look which obviously said 'you're lying'. "I mean it, Arthur, I could watch you here, like this, forever."
This drew a gasped breath and a muttered "Eames...get on with it!" from the point man as he arched once more at the feather light touches the forger was running across his bare chest, followed by whisper soft kisses trailing slowly lower; nipples, ribs, abdomen, stomach, pelvis, just above the line of Arthur's belt. So slow, Eames was taunting, teasing, tormenting and watching Arthur fall apart beneath him.
Eames rose, kneeling by the side of the point man as his fingers worked on the belt buckle, "Too many damn layers." he grumbled as Arthur laughed. Undoing the button to the neatly pressed trousers, he moved to the fly before sliding them slowly down his legs.
He smiled, standing up and removing his own belt, jeans and boxers, uncovering his previously hidden erection. Arthur's eyes were closed as he stared down at the other man, "Arthur." he breathed and the eyelashes fluttered, "Arthur you really are gorgeous." his fingers slid down the point man's legs as he pulled the silk boxers off, revealing Arthur's own flushed erection. The point man blushed prettily as Eames straddled him once more, Arthur's erection settling between the crack of the forger's ass.
Eames leaned down for a kiss, their mouths coming together sloppily, all tongues and teeth and lust. Arthur's hands rose, tangling in his hair and pulling, running down his face and then scratching a path down the forger's sides with short nails as Eames gasped into his mouth.
"Ah-ah, no hands, remember?" he pulled away, pinning Arthur's hands to his sides once more as the point man whined in protest. Eames trailed kisses down his throat, licking at the other man's collarbone and smiling as Arthur arched beneath him once again. His mouth hovered over a nipple, blowing cold air softly before kissing it and rolling it around his tongue.
"Eames, please!" Arthur moaned, his fingers clenching in the sheets.
"I would never have pinned you as a bottom, Arthur, I wouldn't have thought you could have handled that lack of control." Eames shifted lower, nipping at the point man's hip.
"I-I'm not." Arthur gasped, his erection twitching helplessly.
"You're not what, darling?" Eames teased, licking the area he had just nipped.
"I-I don't...bottom...usually." his voice was halting, his hips rising involuntarily from the bed, and Eames could almost see the broken thoughts fluttering behind the dark brown eyes.
"I'm honoured. I'll take care of you, Arthur, do you trust me?" Eames raised his head, Arthur's brown eyes were watching him, half-lidded, beautiful.
"Trust you? A forger and a thief? Always." he whispered as his eyes fluttered shut, surrendering himself completely to the forger.
Eames practically purred, his smile so wide that his face began to hurt as he licked a stripe up the point man's erection causing Arthur to moan and thrust his hips upwards erratically. "Good answer, darling." the forger placed a hand on each of Arthur's hips, effectively pinning him to the mattress as he nudged his legs apart and knelt between. A strange keening noise started in Arthur's throat as the younger man tossed his head back, his eyes closed tightly now, breaths coming in short, expectant pants.
The keening stuttered to an abrupt gasping halt as Eames took the head of Arthur's cock into his mouth. He felt Arthur's hips trying to buck but held him firmly down as he tasted the point man, slowly wrapping his tongue around and sucking lazily for a second before raising his head once more.
"Stop. Teasing. Eames." Arthur huffed above him, his fingers clenching and unclenching in the sheets as if he didn't know what to do with them.
Eames took Arthur's whole length into his mouth and swallowed. Arthur squeaked and shuddered beneath him, unable to keep his hands still now as they buried themselves in Eames' short hair. Eames chuckled, the humming vibration travelling down the other man's erection and causing Arthur to moan throatily, his fingers tugging harshly on the brown locks. Eames' tongue stroked languidly, his lips pursed as he sucked Arthur off; the man beneath him flying slowly apart as the whimpers and moans emerged louder and more frequently. Eames pulled back, his tongue following the path of the vein before probing the sensitive slit at the head of Arthur's cock causing him to jerk and gasp. He was close, but as much as Eames wanted to see the point man totally undone beneath him, there was plenty of time for that.
He crawled up Arthur's chest, kissing the point man and allowing him to taste himself on Eames' tongue. The dark eyes were watching him again, hazed in lust as his fingers explored the forger's body, pressing and rubbing and scratching. Eames shivered, caught in Arthur's eyes and the sensations which were setting his nerves on fire. Arthur's hands glided over his hips and up his inner thigh tantalisingly. Eames swallowed hard. As the hand glided higher, hovering over the forger's erection, Eames lowered his head, latching his lips to the side of Arthur's neck and sucking, nipping occasionally until a red mark bloomed under his mouth. Arthur's chin tilted back whilst his hand skipped up Eames' cock, brushing it with feather light touches until finally closing his hand around it and pulling sharply, eliciting a long low moan from the forger's throat.
Eames licked the mark he had just created on Arthur's neck, swiping his tongue upwards and biting at the underside of Arthur's jaw. The forger looked up then to see the point man watching him, eyes half-lidded and dark with desire, his fingers on Eames' cock setting a slow, excruciating pace. Eames licked the shell of the younger man's ear, drawing a gasp and stuttered curse from Arthur's lips. Eames' hips thrust unconsciously into Arthur's hand as he growled in the point man's ear.
"I want you."
"You already have me." came Arthur's gasped reply as Eames nipped his earlobe, reaching into the drawer next to the bed to pull out a small bottle of lotion, "Come prepared? Did you have this planned all along?" Arthur smiled.
"My last ditch attempt to get you into bed, darling." Eames winked and shook his head, "It never h-hurts to b-be p-prepared. A-are you sure you w-w-want to do this...A-Arthur!" he gasped as Arthur's pace quickened, a wicked look flashing across his face. Eames dropped the lotion on the bed, forgetting its existence as Arthur brought him to the edge, his arms strained to hold his weight as he hovered above Arthur, panting and thrusting erratically.
"Are you sure you can handle me, Mr Eames?" the forger felt the end coming and wished he had Arthur's impressive self-control as he desperately tried to stop himself from losing it there and then. Arthur's hand dropped away from his cock and the point man smirked at him from beneath lowered lashes as Eames gasped in hurried breaths, pushing his orgasm down, and glared.
Arthur spread his legs beneath him, bending his knees slightly to create easier access as the forger shakily knelt between them once more. He slid a pillow under the other man's hips to make it more comfortable for the both of them and smiled at the sight of Arthur below him.
I'll get you back for that one, darling.
Squeezing a blob of lotion out of the small bottle he rubbed his hands together to warm it slightly, covering both hands in a thin sheen which smelt faintly of vanilla. He trailed a finger down Arthur's chest, leaving a shining line down the centre of the point man's body before grasping his erection firmly and stroking downwards without pausing. Arthur's back arched off the mattress beautifully, his eyes flying open and staring hard at the ceiling as his breathing hitched.
"Show me that control, darling." Eames challenged, knowing Arthur wouldn't be able to resist, "Show me that control and watch me break it." sure enough the brown eyes met his and Arthur raised his head in reply, his back hitting the mattress hard and his hands falling straight to his sides.
Eames grinned, wrapping his hand around Arthur's cock and stroking him smoothly, the lotion making the movements quick and easy, his hand sliding up and down, his eyes fixed on Arthur's face.
Arthur's body was wound tight, Eames could almost see his muscles trembling and his eyelids flickering. The forger couldn't help but smile as he moved his other hand into play, one finger running across the other man's balls and down, teasing around Arthur's entrance, rubbing gently. Arthur's toes curled and his neck arched back, but still he didn't make a sound. Eames' finger slipped past the ring of muscle, gently probing upwards into the tight heat of Arthur's ass. He quickly added a second finger, moaning as Arthur's muscles clenched around the digits, still working Arthur with his other hand. He scissored the fingers inside Arthur, loosening the muscles and searching gently for that one spot that he knew would break the point man completely.
Arthur's breath was coming in short puffs now, his eyes screwed shut, teeth biting at his lower lip, trying desperately to cling on to that last shred of control. Eames found what he had been searching for, that bundle of nerves deep inside that sent a shock of pleasure when you stroked it just so...
Arthur's eyes flew open, his back arched and his fingers scrabbled at the sheets as he gasped out a moan, "Eames!" his name on Arthur's lips spoken so sinfully was the most beautiful thing Eames had ever heard, "Eames...please..." Arthur's words emerged in a broken shadow of his usual eloquence. Eames stroked the spot once more before pulling his fingers out and stroking himself, covering his erection with what remained of the lotion on his fingers. Arthur whimpered, his body tense, suddenly bereft of Eames' wandering fingers, his control snapped and utterly gorgeous.
Eames shifted between Arthur's legs, the younger man instinctively wrapping his knees around the forger's waist, his breath coming in short pants as Eames lined himself up, his erection pressing lightly against the ring of muscle. Arthur's brown eyes met his as he pushed in slowly, carefully. He couldn't stop the pained frown that marred the point man's face, Arthur sucking in a breath sharply as his muscles were stretched uncomfortably around Eames' cock.
"Arthur-" Eames began worriedly, pausing, his fingers stroking circles around Arthur's hip.
"If you ask me if I'm sure one...more...time. I'm going to kill you." Arthur growled between gasps, "Get on with it already!"
Eames pushed into the hilt and Arthur gasped, wincing slightly and breathing deeply as his body familiarised itself with the foreign presence inside him. Eames hovered above him, his eyes closing as he savoured the tight heat gripping his cock.
It's so hot...
"Okay." Arthur whispered beneath him, brown eyes still holding a shadow of pain. Eames began to move slowly, setting a rhythm for the pair of them as Arthur's body adjusted around him. Arthur's hips rose to meet his and Arthur's hands skimmed up his ribs and throat, caressing the stubble around his jaw.
"Arthur, you're so gorgeous." Eames' voice was a hoarse unrecognisable whisper in his own ears.
"Don't be stupid." Arthur's reply was dismissive and made Eames' heart ache.
"I mean it, darling, you're beautiful. The way your eyes change colour depending on what mood you're in. The way you hold yourself; as if nothing could ever bring you down. How when you focus on something you are so intense that nothing else in the world exists." Arthur was watching him with curiosity now, Eames wondered if he sounded like a creepy stalker. He found he didn't care, so long as Arthur realised what he was worth.
"Do you believe me?"
Arthur held his gaze for a moment, a blush creeping across his cheeks. Slowly he nodded, a whine escaping his throat. Eames sped up their rhythm, his hips thrusting forwards, burying himself in Arthur's tight heat. Sweat dripped from his chest, falling to mingle with Arthur's own ass Eames kneaded his fingers in Arthur's skin, touching everywhere he could reach, memorising the point man's sharp angles, the dips and hollows of his throat, every line of that slender form beneath him.
The pressure began to build as their pace became more frantic, the pattern faltering as both men fought to reach completion. The thought of taking his time passed out of Eames' mind as his breath came in shorter and shorter gasps, mixed with curses, endearments and a string of unintelligible sentences.
Eames gripped Arthur's cock then, no need for lotion now as he thumbed the precome from Arthur's slit. He pumped in rhythm to his thrusts, searching for that spot deep inside once more. He knew when he found it as Arthur's eyes flew wide open and he cried out his own hips bucking and slamming Eames further inside. Their pace was frantic now, both men moaning and panting, slick and sweat covered as their bodies moved towards completion, wound tighter and tighter and tighter until Eames was sure they would snap and fly apart. He felt Arthur tense around him, going still as his orgasm threatened to spill over.
"Come for me, darling." Eames whispered, stroking the point man and slowing the wild thrusts of his own cock. Arthur shuddered and began to come, his head thrown back against the pillows and a whispered name upon his lips.
"Eames..."
The combination of Arthur's muscles tensing and squeezing him, feeling Arthur writhing beneath him and finally that whispered ghost of his name upon the point man's lips made Eames bury himself in the younger man and shoot his seed deep inside him, moaning Arthur's name as he rode out his own orgasm, his vision darkening and his hearing drowned in soft breathy gasps.
Sticky, flushed and sweat-slicked Eames pulled out of Arthur, lamenting the cold air hitting his body and collapsed to the side, careful not to squash the other man in his wake but his knees no longer able to take his weight. His hand traced lazy patterns on Arthur's side as the slender man shifted over, a contemplative look in his brown eyes. Eames leaned forwards and captured those lips in a kiss, slow and unhurried, teasing Arthur's tongue into a dance. Arthur spread across the mattress with a boneless grace, hands underneath his head as he yawned widely, a contented look in the soft, brown, half-lidded eyes.
"Arthur?" Eames murmured, scratching his fingers down the point man's hip and causing the man to stretch like a cat and almost purr with pleasure.
Arthur turned his head to look at him once again, a soft smile flickering on his face, "Go to sleep, Mr Eames." he murmured as he shifted and curled up against the forger's side, his head laying on Eames' arm and one leg thrown across his own; a comforting weight pinning him to the bed as his mind drifted quickly into oblivion.
It was cold...
Blue eyes cracked open, staring at the emptiness beside him.
Why does it always have to be a fucking dream?
It was so damn cold...
Light was beginning to creep through the curtains, a thread of light cutting its way across the room, the alarm clock on the side of the bed dully flashing 7:37am. The opposite side of the bed was cold and the sheets showed no signs of being recently vacated. The room was silent, the air was heavy and his head throbbed with the steady pound which usually signified a night of heavy drinking. The bed was cold and empty and Eames' heart sank with the promise of a new day, a new life. Back to Mombasa, back to the bars and the gambling. Back to a life without Arthur.
Oh don't be so stupid. He chided himself grumpily, closing his eyes to get the impression of the bare room out of his mind, you never had him in the first place.
Memories of the dream ran rampant through his skull: Arthur naked, lying on the bed; Arthur's back arching gracefully; Arthur's lips covering his own. Eames groaned, trying instead to turn his memory to a true recollection of the night before...darkness...blank...alcohol. Bloody drink. How did I get here?
He stumbled out of bed, getting tangled in the cold sheets, pulling his trousers on as he went and throwing open the patio doors to the balcony. He leaned over the edge of the railing, breathing the fresh morning air, his eyes closed and his feet cold on the stone tiles.
The ground seemed a million miles away as the forger looked down, wondering absently how long it would take for a body to hit the pavement. Then twisting his head upwards his mind turned to Arthur once again. Was he two floors up? Had the point man already left? Had he even stayed in the hotel last night?
Eames frowned, falling into the balcony chair and rubbing his head. What the fuck did I do? What happened last night? How the fuck did I get here?
His mind drew blanks once again and Eames leapt off the chair, skidding on the hard flooring as he peered around the room, searching for his jacket. Thrusting his hands into the pockets he tossed away his wallet and keys, pulling out an old worn poker chip and tracing the outline with his thumb. Closing his eyes he took a deep breath, rubbing the chip between his thumb and forefinger, feeling the familiar edges.
I'm dreaming?
He flipped the chip into the air, catching it, staring hard at the faded embossed lettering and checking, one more time, just to be sure. Well, as sure as one can be. Walking to the side of the bed he picked up the handgun that sat on the table beside the bed. He caressed the smooth metal barrel and swallowed hard.
I really, really hate this part.
He sighed, cocking the gun against his head and clicked the safety off. A single crack, a moment of excruciating pain and he felt his life draining away...
Eames came awake with a gasp, sitting bolt upright and holding his head in his arms, breathing heavily.
I really, really hate that part. It never gets easier.
His breathing evened out, the residual pain in his head fading slowly away. Eames fell back onto the pillows and froze.
It was cold...
Why?
The sheets were crumpled and messy, clear evidence of their actions from the night before. There was an indent in the pillows where Arthur's head had lain, a stain on the sheets that told tales of excitement and sex and sweat. But the sheets were cold and empty.
What did I do?
Eames replayed the night in his head, his memory clear this time despite the alcohol he had consumed. The teasing, the kisses, the sex, and falling asleep with Arthur in his arms.
It was all just a one-night thing for him. That's it.
Eames' stomach dropped and his eyes closed.
I can deal with that...right? It's just like every other relationship I've had. Just one more name to join the others.
No! The voice in his head answered him, it sounded strangely like Arthur. That's not what you want. You don't want him as just another memory.
It's not like I can do anything about it. He's gone. Eames found it ridiculous that he was arguing with his own self-conscious but honestly, at that moment, he didn't care as long as it took his mind off the empty sheets beside him.
Footsteps...
Eames grabbed the handgun from the bedside table, an instinctive reaction, trained into him after years of illegal dream work. He pointed the gun towards the door and held his breath.
So many enemies...but I'll survive. Just one more death on my conscience.
A familiar figure appeared in the doorway. "Arthur." Eames sighed in relief.
"Were you going to shoot me?" the point man's tone was half offended, half amused as he shook his head.
He's still here. Eames noticed the man was back in the suit he had worn the previous night, the shirt still looking like it had just come out of a press, not a crease in sight. He's leaving. Eames dropped the gun back on to the table and sighed. His eyes never leaving the other man's face.
"I was wondering when you were going to return to the land of the living." Arthur picked up his jacket from the chair, shrugging it over his shoulders and doing up the buttons deftly. The point man's eyes met his as if he were waiting for Eames to say something. Eames' mouth wouldn't work, completely dry, his mind blank he watched as Arthur shrugged and turned towards the door, his shoes clicking on the hard wooden flooring.
He's leaving...
"Arthur...please don't...last night...I...we...I..." Eames silently cursed himself for being an inarticulate fool as the words stuttered from his mouth and Arthur turned away, back stiff, facing the door. He'd blown his chance, he'd had his night and now the point man was going to walk out of his life and never look back.
"Non, rien de rien. Non, je ne regrette rien." Arthur, as usual, was eloquent enough for the both of them as he turned his head to look over his shoulder, a small smile playing across his lips. His voice practically purred as it deepened on the French syllables and Eames shivered, the kick of reality finally reaching his head as Arthur moved back towards the bed.