Rating PG-13 for minor language and mild references to sex

Disclaimer: I do not own Inception or its characters, not that these characters resemble those in the movie.

Warning!: This fic is beyond fluffy! Read at your own risk!

Summary: Arthur and Ariadne's children adore Eames, but the feeling is more than mutual. A look into the effect their children have on Eames' life and the makeshift family they create.

Chapter 1: Baby Vomit Means Everything

Eames finds some satisfaction in hearing his heavy stomping footsteps echoing up the wooden stairs of Arthur and Ariadne's home. He's trying to blow off some steam and the reason for his frustration is as usual, the point man. He's climbing the stairs now in search of Ariadne, who he needs to keep him from giving into his instincts of wanting to punch his smug friend in the face.

"Ariadne? Ariadne? Oh there you are. How attached to Arthur are you?"

Ariadne smiles, tiredly, Eames thinks, at his lack of preamble while she adjusts the infant in her arms. It appears she just finished feeding little Elizabeth.

"I'm very attached, especially since he's the father of our baby. Why do you ask?"

Eames casually crosses his arms and legs and leans against the door jamb of Elizabeth's nursery. He should probably leave the two alone but he's oddly fascinated with the interaction between mother and baby. He's never had the occasion to spend a lot of time with babies, or mothers, for that matter, and he's curious about the bond between the two.

"I thought I'd be considerate and consult you before I give your husband a black eye," he says flippantly. And then, switching focus, he asks, "Are you giving her a massage?" He watches Ariadne rub Elizabeth's back. Surely the little thing can't be that wound up.

On second thought, Arthur is her father so…

"No, I'm burping her." Ariadne laughs softly, directing her next words to the baby on her shoulder. "Elizabeth, why don't you tell your Uncle Eames that you don't want him to punch your daddy, hmm?" She turns the baby around in her arms and waves little Elizabeth's arm at him. "Hello, Uncle Eames. Please don't give my daddy a black eye."

Eames suppresses a groan at Ariadne's attempt at a childish voice, but awkwardly says hello and gives a wave of his own, anyway. "I'm sorry Elizabeth, but I can't make any promises." The baby isn't impressed and stares off to one corner of the room before Ariadne turns her back around to continue burping her.

Sighing, Ariadne asks, "What are you two fighting about now?"

"We're not fighting. We're just strongly disagreeing with the fact that he is an ars—annoying," he finishes, when Ariadne gives him a stern look.

Ariadne clicks her tongue in disapproval and addresses Elizabeth. "Don't worry Elizabeth. Despite what you hear, your daddy and Uncle Eames do love each other very much."

"I don't love Arthur!" Eames knows he sounds like a petulant little boy, but he can't help it.

Ariadne yawns, ignoring his outburst. "Tell you what." She and Elizabeth rise from their seat and head over to Eames. "Why don't you finishing burping Elizabeth and I'll, as usual, smooth everything out."

Eames' eyes nearly bug out of his face. "What? I—I can't finish burping her."

"Why not?"

"Be-because." He didn't want to admit it upfront, but he had never held a baby before. He's never had the occasion to and he has no idea what to do. She's so tiny. What if he breaks her?

"Because is not a reason, Eames." Despite him being much taller and much bigger than she, Ariadne easily pushes Eames into her vacated chair.

"Well, I can be rather clumsy, you know. Bull in a china shop and all that."

"You're nothing of the sort and you know it. Besides, I think it's time Elizabeth got to know her Uncle Eames." She places a cloth over one of Eames' shoulders and places Elizabeth against him. He holds her awkwardly in his large hands. Elizabeth turns her head towards him; grown man and baby proceed to have a staring contest with each other.

"There, see, Elizabeth likes you already." Ariadne stands back and watches, slightly amused at the fear in the forger's eyes. "Now, all you have to do is rub or pat her back until she gives a good, loud burp. I'll be back in a few minutes." Before she leaves, Ariadne coos at her daughter. "You be a good little girl for Uncle Eames, okay Elizabeth?"

"Wait! What if she starts to cry? Or wriggles out of my arms?"

Ariadne shakes her head. "She's not a slippery eel. And if she starts to cry, just bounce her around for a bit." And then, more tenderly, she says, "You're going to be fine, Eames. I'll be right back." And with that, Ariadne leaves the unlikely pair alone.

Eames has stared down fellow thieves, conmen, and some plain old crazy people in his life, but none of them have scared him as much as the little doe-eyed, two-month old in his arms.

"Okay, Elizabeth. I'm going to burp you now." Eames says all of this out loud, hoping that Elizabeth is cognizant enough to understand that they need to work together. "Do as your mummy says and be a good girl and don't do anything that will make me drop you." He hopes the unimpressed look Elizabeth gives him is not a challenge; she turns her head away before he can convince himself otherwise.

Contemplating whether to rub or pat her back as Ariadne instructed, Eames tentatively places his hand over Elizabeth's back, noting how it practically covers the whole surface. What if he patted too hard? Would he hurt her? He could try massaging her, like Ariadne did. But what if he massaged her back the wrong way?

As if sensing his indecision, Elizabeth starts to make a fuss. Panicking, Eames starts to pat her back as gently as he can. Elizabeth continues to fuss and fidget against him.

"Whoa, now." He's aware that he's addressing her like a horse, but he's too nervous to care. "Let's calm down Elizabeth. I'm new at this." He slightly increases the pressure of his pats.

"I don't know why your mum thought this would be a good idea. To be honest, I think motherhood has made her a little mental. But I suppose that happens when you push a little human out of your vag—uh, out of your body."

Eames gives Elizabeth a look, noticing that's she's stopped fidgeting. "Hmm. This isn't so bad. You follow direction very well for a baby. Probably your dad's influence, eh? I can see Arthur training you to be a little point girl already." Elizabeth lets out a little fart in response.

Eames chuckles and stops his patting, turning his head to look at her. "Do you not approve of being groomed into a point girl? Hmm, I can always teach you how to forge. To be honest, I think it's the more difficult of the two. " He drops the humor when she grabs the cloth at his shoulder with one fist and drops it on the ground. "What's that all about Elizabeth? Are we done here?" He considers whether his burping duties are over. "Your mum specifically said that you need to give a good, loud burp. We best continue with this. We don't want your mummy mad at me. Between you and me, she can be scarier than your dad."

Just as he's about to continue his patting, Elizabeth places her head on Eames' shoulder. At that moment something inside him melts a little and he instinctively starts rubbing gentle circles on her back without worrying if he's doing it properly or not. The warm little body and the rapid little heartbeat against his shoulder are both comforting and soothing and he dares to gently rest his cheek against her head.

"Aren't you a sweet thing? And tiny too. I don't know why I was so afraid of you. Don't tell your mum and dad I said that. That will be our little secret, okay Elizabeth?" He continues rubbing Elizabeth's back and talking to her. "You know what else? I'm not sure I like the name Elizabeth. I mean, it is a fine, elegant name and all, but you're much too tiny for such a mouthful of a name. Would you mind if I call you Lizzy, instead?" Elizabeth kicks one of her legs out. "Easy, now. Would you like that? You can be my little Lizzybell with your sweet little tooting farts—"

BURRRRRRRRRRRP!

Eames raises his cheek from Elizabeth's head in surprise and chuckles. "Good one, Lizzy! That was quite impressive." He moves Elizabeth slightly away from his shoulder to look at her. That's when he notices the milky spit-up on his shirt.

"Oh, Lizzy, look at the mess you made on my favorite shirt!" He holds her further away from him to further inspect the damage and Elizabeth starts to cry.

"Oh, oh, I'm sorry Lizzy! I'm not mad at you. Please don't cry. Uncle Eames isn't mad." Elizabeth's cries intensify and Eames tries bouncing her on his arm like Ariadne suggested.

"Shhh, shhh. No, Lizzy, don't cry. We're getting along fabulously, aren't we? Please don't cry." He's about to yell for Ariadne when a foul smell wafts into his nostrils. He starts sniffing around for the source and then realizes it's coming from Elizabeth.

"Lizzy? Did you soil your nappie?" Elizabeth's face is red and scrunched up. Eames is pretty sure his is too. "Ugh! How can one so small produce such a smell? Ugh!"

"Eames, what's going on?"

Arthur walks into the nursery to find Eames holding his daughter out at arm's length and Elizabeth wailing at the top of her lungs.

"What's going on is that your daughter is assaulting me with every bodily function she's got. Here, take her."

Arthur reaches out and takes Elizabeth. "Don't worry sweetheart, daddy's here. Oh, you need to be changed."

"She needs to be soaked in rosewater is what she needs." Eames covers his nose with his arm. "You know, I never thought you could help create something that could produce such a foul, vile—"

The rest of his sentence is cut-off when Elizabeth lets loose one loud, ear-drum piercing wail.

"Good god! I'm sorry, Lizzy! I didn't mean that." Eames looks to Arthur, alarmed. "Is she okay? Should I call Ariadne?"

Arthur chuckles and calmly walks over to the changing table. "She's fine Eames. Elizabeth is just telling us she needs to be changed, and now. And calling Ariadne here won't do us any good." Arthur gently lays his unhappy daughter down on the table. "Shhh; it's okay Elizabeth, daddy's going to take care of you." He proceeds to roll up his shirt sleeves. "Ariadne's asleep on the couch and she'll kill the both of us if you wake her up just to ask her to change a diaper. Trust me; we don't need both of my girls screaming at us at the top of their lungs."

"So you're going to change Elizabeth's nappie?" Eames asks, horrified.

"Of course. Does that surprise you? Or do you want to do it?"

Eames grimaces at the suggestion and ignores Arthur's smug smirk.

"Let me tell you something I've learned about having a wife and a baby, Eames." Arthur removes the expensive time piece on his wrist and grabs a clean diaper, baby wipes, and baby powder from underneath the table. "You do not, I repeat, you do not ask your exhausted wife to change your baby's diaper for any reason short of both your arms being broken. Doing so will cause pain and suffering to your manhood, both in the figurative and literal sense of the word."

Eames shivers at the thought, but is fascinated with how expertly and efficiently Arthur removes the dirty diaper, cleans up Elizabeth, and attaches a new one.

"There now sweetheart, all freshened up." Arthur makes a move to dispose of the offending diaper and Eames gives him a wide berth. "Do me a favor and watch Elizabeth while I get rid of this and wash my hands."

Eames nods and walks over to the table where Elizabeth's cries have turned into little whimpers. "All better now, Lizzy?" The baby continues to whimper and he reaches down to tickle her little belly. Elizabeth reaches her own hand down and grasps onto his finger, causing the forger to laugh.

"I didn't mean to get upset with you for spitting up on my shirt. I'm sorry." He smiles when she looks directly at him. "It's just that this is my favorite shirt and—"

Elizabeth lets go of his finger and starts to fuss again.

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry." He carefully picks her up off the table and lays her against his clean shoulder, bouncing her on his arm. "I can just throw it in the wash and it'll be good as new. No big deal. And no need to be upset."

Elizabeth calms and Eames sighs in relief. He continues to walk around the nursery bouncing Elizabeth against his shoulder for several minutes before Arthur finally returns.

"Thanks for getting her to fall asleep."

Eames turns at Arthur's whispered words. He takes a peek at the baby at his shoulder to confirm that Elizabeth has indeed fallen asleep. He gives Arthur a look that clearly says, "What do I do now?"

"Put her down in her crib."

Eames sees the little white crib in one corner of the room and walks over. He's unsure of how to set her down but luckily Arthur's there to guide him.

"Make sure you support her head with one hand. Good. And now support her bottom with the other. And now, easy…" Eames follows Arthur's instructions and lays Elizabeth down carefully onto her stomach. Arthur pulls a little yellow blanket up to cover her and then the two men stand by the crib, watching the soft rise and fall of her back.

"I can't believe you went and had a baby." Eames whispers, shaking his head and turning to Arthur. The point man is standing next to him with a goofy smile on his face. At any other time Eames may have poked fun at that smile, but he restrains himself and looks back to the baby in the crib. "And a girl at that. She's going to have you wrapped around her finger. I just know it."

Arthur looks up from adoring his little girl but instead of correcting Eames' prediction, smiles wider than before. "I know. But I have a feeling I'm going to enjoy it." He turns on the baby monitor before moving away from the crib and exiting the nursery. Eames follows suit.

"You're certain about that?"

"Absolutely. Just as I'm certain that I won't be the only one wrapped around her finger and loving every minute of it," Arthur says, as he heads towards his and Ariadne's bedroom.

"I think Ariadne's much too sensible to let that happen."

Arthur stops in front of a ridiculously enormous and fastidiously organized walk-in closet. "I'm not talking about Ariadne."

"You're not suggesting that I'm going to be bowled over by a little baby, are you?"

"That's exactly what's going to happen. I'm certain of it." Eames stands by as he watches Arthur enter the closet.

"And here I thought you knew me better than that. I'll have you know I have never let anyone of the female persuasion wrap me around her finger. And a baby will be no exception." Eames throws in a smirk for good measure.

Arthur exits the closet with a shirt that he hands to Eames.

"What's this for?"

"Elizabeth spit-up all over your shirt. Not that I blame her. She has her father's tastes, after all." Arthur throws in a smirk of his own.

"It's just a little spit-up on my shoul—oh." Eames notices the large stain on his once previously clean shoulder. Elizabeth managed to soil both of them. "She must have done this when I was putting her to sleep." He smiles a little, remembering the feel of the soft little baby in his arms. The smile does not go unnoticed.

"What?" Eames asks, defensively.

Holding back a smile, Arthur says, "Nothing." He heads out of the bedroom.

"This doesn't mean anything."

Arthur stops and turns to face the forger, a knowing smile on his face. "No Eames, it means everything."