Grumpy Pants

Pairing: Arthur/Eames (Inception)

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: Angst and AU

Length: 23K

Summary: It has been one year. One year since Arthur walked out on me and our life together. Since his departure, I have tried valiantly to put the pieces of my life back together and move on, but to no avail. Even now I still love that bloody bastard. However, Arthur is coming home now. I only hope that I can keep myself composed long enough to tell him what a wanker he is. But then, the fates never did like me very much…

Disclaimer: Obviously Eames, Arthur and the rest of the Inception crew don't belong to me. If they did…well, there would be a lot more sex and a lot less talking. Thank you Christopher Nolan for being a genius!

A warm thank you to—
I'd like to give many thanks to my close friend and beta SundaeMorning, who not only helped me with my edits, but also contributed to the inspiration behind the story.
I'd also like to send out a thank you to Cheryl Dyson (dysonrules on LJ) and LadyVader (on LJ), whose wonderful Arthur/Eames stories led me to watch the movie in the first place!
Finally, I'd like to thank music for helping me with my inspiration. Music is a powerful tool and it is music that made the first paragraph of this story come to life for me. If you would like links to the videos I watched/listened to while writing this fic, please message me and I would be more than happy to supply!

Please Enjoy!

It's official. It's the Christmas season…again. Heaving a sigh I snap of the tellie, having watched the third Christmas commercial in only twice as many minutes. It's been only a week since November began and already all the crazy Americans have toted out their Christmas gear. I can't walk two steps out of my home without seeing the flashing lights and hearing Christmas carols blasting from every speaker. Even from my apartment on the fourth floor I can hear the sounds of bloody Christmas cheer. Aren't these people supposed to have Thanksgiving this month? Where's the music and decorations endorsing turkey and celebrating the camaraderie that the holiday is supposed to represent? With a frown, I click on the kettle (one of the few things I've managed to keep throughout my many travels), and go sit at the table to wait. I hate Christmas. I hate the whole bloody damn thing.

I could sit here and contemplate all the reasons why I hate the season, but it would be a completely unnecessary waste of time. I know why I hate Christmas; however, facing those issues has never been my strong suit. Oh, I'm good at confronting problematic situations; nevertheless, those circumstances usually involve me putting someone else in line and not the other way around. I like to study people, not myself. A shrill cry from the kettle calls me over. I pour the water into my mug along with a tea bag. Alright, but now, where's the sugar? Oh sugar, if I were you, where would I hide? I look in every cupboard and come up empty handed. Um, excuse me, Mr. Sugar, but you are causing me a very terrible inconvenience. All hope seems lost, but then I happen to look up. A low growl trickles out of my throat as I spot the sugar bowl. How the hell did the sugar end up on top of the refrigerator? I pull it down and scoop out two tablespoons into my mug. No matter how big or how small the mug is, I must have two tablespoons. No more. No less. Call me neurotic, but that is one of the few things in my life that must be in order.

Then a thought trickles through my brain like syrup. Ariadne had been here just yesterday. I groan. She has an exasperating habit of rearranging my apartment. She always claims that she is looking out for me and helping me arrange my 'hell hole' into some semblance of cleanliness. I say that she just likes to fuck with me. I take a sip of my tea. It's already cooler than I like it. Damn it, Ariadne. As if hearing my frustrated internal cry, my cell phone buzzes upon the table. I watch it skitter to and fro and contemplate leaving it. I take another sip of my tea and sigh. It's still ringing. Shit. I grab the phone and press the 'call' button. "You've reached the Eames hotline, if you're looking for money, bugger off, if you're looking for sex, call back in an hour."

"Eames, where are you?" I sigh when I hear Ariadne's voice.

"At my apartment, scrambling around trying to find my missing sugar, thanks for that by the way."

I very distinctly hear a giggle on the other end. Bitch. "How's the cold tea?"

Although she can't see it, my eyebrow lifts sardonically. "Could be better. What do you need, dearie? I'm assuming that you didn't call just to remark upon the state of my beverage."

I can almost hear her smile. "If you must know, I am at the university marking some papers."

"Riveting as ever, Ariadne," I remark blandly.

"Oh shut it, you. I thought you were supposed to drop by for lunch?" She doesn't sound impatient, so at least I'm not in the doghouse. But then, Ariadne is almost impossible to rile up. With as many issues as she has in her life I can't imagine that there's much room for tetchiness.

"I am perfectly well aware that my lovely presence is desired. But it's not lunch time yet."

"It's three in the afternoon!" she laughs. "Get your clothes on and get your fine British arse over here."

I could refuse her. I could say 'screw it'; however, I would much rather go spatter my Christmas misgivings at her office than stay at home listening to the blasted buggers standing outside singing Christmas tunes. November, people! It is still November. "Alright," I finally reply, "I'll be there in twenty."

X

"Took you long enough! Maybe next time you should add a couple extra minutes to your time." I step into her office and plop down on the chair in front of her desk. Oh, to be at uni again…the four least favorite years of my short life. "You're looking very off-kilter today. Do you wanna talk about it?"

I glance up and give her my best smile. "I had bloody Christmas carolers outside my apartment building this morning. Christmas is a terrible time of year when guilty parents who haven't spent enough time with their children try to buy their favor back." Scowling, I look out the window behind her desk. I see a damp sheen frosting the window. I can only hope that it's from rain. If it's snowing already I might have to hurt someone.

"Eames, you really need to get over your dour Christmas spirit. Saying 'bah humbug' isn't going to make the holiday disappear. You need to either confront your feelings about it or just get over yourself." She doesn't look up from her papers as she makes another mark; which frankly, is lucky for her. If I'd had the ability, my glare would have burnt a hole through her thick skull.

With a sniff, I say, "Stuff it, Ariadne. So are we going to lunch or aren't we? That is why I got dressed and all, you know. After all, this is my only day off this week."

The smile she gives me is simply infectious. I can't help but give her a little grin back. That is one of the things that I truly love about her. No matter what mood I'm in she's always ready to deal with me. She is always happy and supportive, even when I don't deserve it. "Okay, just let me finish checking this page and we can head out. There's a new bistro down the road that I want to try out."

We head out ten minutes later, the chill air seeping through my thin jacket and dancing along my skin. Curses. This is my favorite fall jacket and now I'll have to put it away until next year when things warm up again. Muttering, I cross my arms and rub at my biceps. "This café of yours better have the damned heat on."

Ariadne's laugh is muffled by her scarf. I can barely make out her words through the thick layers of fabric. "We live in Pennsylvania, not California. Are you expecting it to be warm and sunny all year long? Dream on."

I grumble to myself the rest of the way to the bistro. Why had I decided to move to this wretched country again? Someone please remind me because I can't seem to recall what I ever found appealing about leaving England behind. We step inside and warmth rushes through me. Oh. I suppose there is one good thing going for the States: in the summer there is constant air conditioning and in the fall and winter there is constant heat. Fan-fucking-tastic.

Ariadne and I sit down in a quaint booth and order our drinks. I glance down at the menu and chuckle. Of course she would like this place. "Trying to recapture the taste of French food? Sorry dear, but I think that you may be out of luck in that regard. No such food exists here."

Her nose scrunches and I can swear she's repressing the urge to stick her tongue in my direction. Go for it, Ariadne. Let it all out. "You have absolutely no flexibility, Eames."

"Not true," I remark calmly. "I quite enjoy American cuisine; however, I fear that French food is its own enigma, unobtainable by all except those wonky Frenchmen." I give her a quick smile before turning back to my menu.

I can hear her sighing. "You know, Eames, for once you're right."

My eyebrows climb up to my hairline. "Your confidence in my opinion is as astounding as ever," I respond coolly. She is the only person alive who can get away with a comment like that. I allow her insults because over the past few years, she has, ironically, become the one and only person I can trust, for she knows my secrets and I know hers. She is the only person who truly knows and understands me. And isn't that a sad thought?

"Earth to Eames!"

I glance up at her, a wry smile twisting my lips. I don't have a response for her. Fortunately for me, the waitress has decided to show up and take our order. I select some sort of pasta dish and she a soup. The waitress leaves us again. "So how are Cobb and the kids?"

She smiles, grabbing onto one of the bread rolls the waitress has brought. She tears off a piece before responding. "Really great." She chews a bit of the roll and then continues. "The divorce papers were finally filed this afternoon."

"Worried?"

She waves her hand at me as if the issue is merely an incessant fly trying to bother her. "Not at all. Mal's still taking medication and seeing a therapist. The kids are handling the whole situation very well. They like me well enough so that's something. Dom has been more upset about the whole thing than I have. He seems to think that I'm going to crack at any moment and leave him. Idiot. I've stuck with him this long, why would I leave now?"

I snort. The whole bloody situation has just been one problem after another. Mal and Dom had had a turbulent relationship from day one of their marriage. Why they had ever gotten married in the first place was beyond me, since they had done nothing but fight since the day they met. And it hadn't gotten any better after the kids were born. If anything, their problems had only gotten worse. But one couldn't completely blame their failed marriage on their incompatibility. Dom had tried over the years to ignore Mal's failing mental health; however, in the end, his insistence on ignoring the issue had brought them nothing but grief. How Ariadne handles having such a problematic relationship is beyond me. Then again, my never-ending trail of failed relationships isn't exactly commendable either.

There is only one person who I've ever felt that wretched emotion called love for. Unfortunately, he and I aren't speaking to one another and haven't for nearly a year. Even now, that knowledge stings. Despite the fact that he doesn't want me anymore, I do still love him, crave him, yearn for him. Like a bloody besotted girl I had waited. For months I had sat in my apartment and waited for a call that never came. Fuck. I grab onto my tea and take a swig of it. It scalds my throat just the way I like it to. "That's great, Ari. I'm really happy for you."

She doesn't say anything. The silence thickens until I look up from my tea cup to watch her. She refuses to return my gaze, instead, she watches as her fingers fiddle with her glass. Letting out a long breath, I put down my cup. Great, what's going on this time? "Alright, Ariadne. What's going on?" She gulps. I watch those thin lips of hers curl into a frown. The action immediately puts me on edge. Her looks of displeasure never bode well. Well, at least not for me, anyways. I roll my eyes heavenward. "Really, delaying the inevitable is not going to help anyone. Did you secretly break my DVD player when you were at my place yesterday? Broke my last good lamp? Ate my last Danish that I was hiding in the pantry?"

She nearly smiles, but it doesn't last. Biting her lip she finally says, "Dom and I were talking last night."

"Yes? And?" Okay, this has gone on long enough. Spit it out.

"He just finished up his job in Japan. Arthur's coming back in a couple days."

Dark tea sprays across the table and hits her square in the face. Regrettably, I have to admit that I have inelegantly spit out my mouthful of tea. "What?" I hiss.

She wipes her face, looking, not angry, but sad. The look of pity, I know, is for me. "You knew he was only going to be gone for a year. Surely you hadn't forgotten."

I set my teacup down and scoff. "Yeah, well, what does it matter? He and I aren't together anymore." Although I say the words, Ariadne knows I don't mean them. The pain that swirls in my chest is like acid, burning a hole through me where Arthur used to sit. I hadn't ended our relationship. He had. Two months before he was set to leave, he had come to me and told me his plans. We had spent every day after that fighting. I had wanted him to stay. I had wanted to go with him. I had wanted anything but the dissolution of our relationship. But he would have none of it. 'Long distance relationships don't work' he had told me. Over and over he refused to listen, telling me it would only be a matter of time before the strain got to be too much for us. He had walked out the door two days before he was leaving and not called me again. So much for love.

I start when I feel a hand cover mine. I glower at her, but she doesn't move. "I know you still love him," she whispers.

Relenting, I grip her hand tightly. My jaw works to form the words. "Even if I did," I growl, "it wouldn't matter. He doesn't love me."

Her other hand comes up and covers our clasped fingers. She has no words for me. And the truth of the matter is, even if she did, it wouldn't mean anything. I know what I know. Arthur doesn't love me and I have to live with that, even if it hurts.