Love Love Me Do
Jul. 25th, 2010 01:27 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ifeelbetterTitle: Love Love Me Do
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ifeelbetter
Pairing: Arthur/Eames from Inception
Word Count: 4,323
Disclaimer: Don't own anything of value. For serious.
Summary: Arthur and Ariadne happen to be caught up in a bank robbery. Arthur gets hurt and this brings out new sides in just about everybody.
Notes: I don't know why I just wrote Inception fic besides the obviousy Eames and Arthur are so very pretty. From this prompt at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
inception_kink which I have been snuggling with all day.
"There's an ATM right there," Arthur said. He pointed. "It doesn't even have a line."
"Machines are impersonal. I don't trust them," Ariadne said.
He raised an eyebrow. "You're serious?"
"I saw the Sarah Connor Chronicles. The machines will take over the world someday and it had better not be on my dime."
"Your money is still in a machine," he said. He rubbed at one of his eyes. "This may be the most boring morning in my entire adult life."
"It's a bank. They're not known for their entertainment value." She was digging in her purse for a pen to sign the back of the check her mother had mailed her. It had little yellow ducks on it. Arthur raised an eyebrow at it. "What? It's from my mom."
"I didn't say a thing," he said carefully.
"You didn't say anything very loudly."
He did one of his partial smiles then, one of the ones that crooked the tiniest bit at the corner of his mouth. It was about as much as he was willing to show in amusement and she was glad she could get it out of him. They didn't have much in common on a superficial level -- the creases in his suits were the closest thing he had to a hobby but she built birdhouses in elaborate detail -- but they had eked out a balance in the months following Cobb's retirement. They ate bad take-out and talked shop and then, sometime in the past few weeks, they'd even started to talk about other things.
It wasn't much but it was something.
So he'd shrugged and followed her on her stupid errands. She assumed he was just legitimately bored without Cobb and his insane schemes. They'd taken a couple of jobs, just the two of them, but it had always been low-key and low-stakes and, therefore, low-interest.
And they didn't talk about Cobb and they didn't talk about Eames.
The top two buttons on his shirt were loose and he hadn't worn a tie in over a week.
Ariadne couldn't help but notice details like that.
That was why she felt her eyes drawn to a piece of black fabric hanging out of some guy's pocket. His eyes met hers right before he took it out and pulled it over his face.
"Everybody on the floor!" he screamed but she was already tugging on Arthur's arm, pulling him behind a pillar.
"Shit," she said. Arthur looked sharper at the edges, his jaw tightening.
"Only that one guy?"
"Arthur, I saw his face just now," she said insistently. "He saw me see his face."
Arthur nodded slightly, efficiently. He leaned around the pole just enough to see what the bank robber was doing.
"I need $500,000 in this bag," the guy was saying, pointing a smallish gun into some bank teller's face. His hand was shaking, though.
"He's not a pro," Arthur said. "He won't kill you."
"You can't be sure," she said, breathless.
"He's just a guy at the end of his rope," he said. "He only wants $500. That sounds like a loan come in or something. He's got his eyes on the prize. He'll only be worried about you if he can see you."
"You can't be sure," she repeated.
He shrugged and patted his pockets. A month ago, he would have at least had a gun somewhere, maybe even a silencer. Three months ago, he would have had a small arsenal hidden around his person. There was a personal epiphany to be had in that information but it would have to wait until after this business.
"I don't even have a Swiss Army knife," Ariadne said in response to his unspoken question.
"Then we stay put."
The guy was still waiting on the bag. Arthur could only assume that somebody had flipped a silent alarm somewhere. This guy didn't look nearly put together enough to have disabled them beforehand.
The bag was filled in what seemed like a glacial pace. Arthur could see the dye-packs, some of them sitting on the very top layer of the packets of bills. He could have cleaned this operation up so much. A couple days scouting, a bribed inside-man...the possibilities for improvement were endless.
It was like fucking amateur night. It felt ridiculous to be ducking behind a pillar for this joker.
Then Ariadne sneezed. For a split second, in the moment when your face inevitably conveys utter truth, he couldn't help goggling at her. It was, without a doubt, the very worst thing she could have done.
The bank robber whipped around, his wobbly gun pointed in their general direction and Arthur could practically see it occur to him to take care of the girl who saw his face. If Ariadne hadn't fucking sneezed, they would have been home free already.
"You!" the guy shouted, catching sight of the edge of Ariadne's bag. "Stand up. And keep your hands where I can see them!"
Ariadne stood slowly, her face completely drained of color.
"I didn't see anything. Especially not your face," she said and, this time, Arthur couldn't refrain from audibly groaning. Ariadne was basically asking to be shot.
"You stand the fuck up too," the bank robber said and Arthur twinged internally. Groaning had not been the best way to stay under-the-radar at that particular moment either.
He tried to stand a little in front of Ariadne, enough to tell the bank robber that she was small fish compared to him.
"We don't want any trouble, mister," he said, carefully pitching his voice in what he hoped was a comforting register. "We're just a couple of people who happened to be at the bank today."
"Not seeing faces," Ariadne added nervously. He tried to nudge her with his foot. She closed her mouth.
"This bitch is trying to start something with me," the guy said.
Oh good, thought Arthur. He had been hoping for a bank robber out of a sitcom, the type who's only doing this because his kid is in the hospital or something. This guy was definitely going to disappoint him, though. This guys just sounded like a douche.
"Definitely not trying to start something," Arthur said. He paused and then made a face. "Oh, you meant her?" He smirked. "Your terminology was unspecific."
"You trying to start something?" the bank robber demanded. He seemed stuck in the refrain.
"I think we can all agree you're the one who started this. You are the one with the gun and the bag full of stolen money." Angry criminals are stupid criminals, right? Hadn't Cobb said that once?
"Maybe I'm taking a hostage with me," the bank robber said. He got closer to them until his gun bumped into the third button on Arthur's shirt. "Maybe I'm taking this twink with me for leverage." He struck Arthur across the face, making Arthur spit out a bit of blood.
Arthur grinned. "I get this all the time," he said to Ariadne in a stage whisper before turning back to the bank robber. "You're not my type. Sorry."
The guy was thoroughly pissed. Arthur's mind was racing. It wasn't, by far, the first time he'd had to come up with a new plan on the fly but it was one of the worst plans he'd ever come up with on the fly.
The guy made up his mind. "You're carrying the money," he informed Arthur, tossing him the bag. "And I will shoot you in the face if you try any funny business."
"I have it on pretty good authority that I'm never funny," Arthur said. The bag was heavy, at least. He could hit the guy with it. It might give him enough of a pause for him to get Ariadne out of there.
There were all those dye-packs too. He glanced down. If he could grab that one right there, the one sitting on the very top of the piles, maybe he could make something of that.
It's not like he could make the situation much worse.
There were sirens in the distance. The guy looked away for a split second and that was all Arthur needed. He reached down, pulled the dye-pack out and set it off in the guy's face in the milisecond it took the guy to return his attention to Arthur. The guy was obviously not a pro, no pro would have reflexes that bad. Arthur was able to twist away from him as the gun went off, sending him falling onto Ariadne. A flare of familiar pain erupted in his leg.
He would have to take back the thing about the new plan not being able to make things worse.
"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit," Ariadne said, her hands flailing around his leg without making contact.
The bank robber was distracted by the sirens at least. He moved towards one of the windows, trying to stay out of sight in the shadow of the window frame.
"Arthur, I don't know what to do," Ariadne said, her voice high and breathy. He forgot how young she was so much of the time. Her eyes were incredibly bright and shiny.
"I think I've been shot," he told her. He checked his pocket for the die and ran a finger pad along the groves of the number. Yep, he definitely wasn't dreaming. That sucked.
"No shit, Sherlock," she said. "I think I should tie something around your leg." She held up the fabric of his pant-leg to rip it.
"Wait!" he said. He bit his bottom lip because you aren't really allowed to stop people from bandaging your injuries based on the fact you don't want them to rip a nice pair of pants. That sort of thing is just not done.
She gave him a knowing look and ripped anyway. "I'll buy you a new pair. It's the least I can do."
"Taking a bullet for you is absolutely worth a new pair of pants," he agreed.
She had to rip higher in pants because the wound was just above his knee, somewhere in his thigh.
"I liked these pants," he sighed.
"I'll buy you twenty just like them, soon as we're out of this," she said, tying the makeshift bandage.
"Tailored," he insisted.
"Gold-plated, if you want it." She wiped the back of her hand across her forehead. Her hand was drenched in blood.
"Don't be silly. Only M.C. Hammer wears gold pants." He craned his head to look towards the bank robber.
"He's just standing in front of the window. Honestly." He hissed a breath, propping himself up on his elbows. "I was shot by the worst bank robber in the entire world. This is so embarrassing."
"I promise I won't tell if you don't," Ariadne said.
Arthur was right, though, and the bank robber was shot by a sniper within ten minutes of the police arriving. Arthur was the only official injury.
Ariadne sat beside him in the back of the ambulance. The paramedics were all hovering over the bank robber with a hole in his head which, as Ariadne pointed out, seemed backwards.
"I meant it about the pants," she said, her feet dangling off the back of the open ambulance. Arthur leaned into her a little.
"So did I." He grinned. She smiled back at him warily. This was the first time one of them had been injured in the real world. She looked shell-shocked. "Hey," he said, bumping her shoulder. "I'm fine."
"Yeah," she agreed but didn't really meet his eyes.
The paramedics returned in another flurry and whisked him away to the hospital. Ariadne tried to hold his hand in the ambulance -- the paramedics obviously thought she was his girlfriend -- but he told her sharply that he had a gunshot wound but that did not make him a preschool girl.
She really grinned that time.
She disappeared when they got to the actual hospital and he was pushed around on a gurney which was hilarious all by itself.
And then he was in surgery so he just sank into a blank, dreamless sleep.
*****
He woke up groggily staring at a pair of leather boots. They were propped awkwardly on the edge of his hospital bed, directly in his face.
He would thoroughly deny it if it ever came up in conversation but that really was all he had to see to know Ariadne had done the stupidest thing on option and had called Eames. He could tell by his stupid shoes.
"I'm going to kill that girl," he said, his voice hoarse. The shoes disappeared, giving him an actual view of the room.
"Did you wake up on the wrong side of the hospital bed, pet?" Eames said.
"I'm going to kill myself and then you next," Arthur said, trying to push himself up in the bed. He winced as the pain flared in his leg again.
"I wouldn't suggest moving, darling. You've been shot, remember?" Something in Eames's voice sounded off. His grin was false, like a tiger's grin before it mauled a tiny jungle creature.
"Hard to forget the bullet wound in my leg, yes," Arthur said flatly. He cocked his head to one side. "She shouldn't have called you."
Eames stood so suddenly that he knocked the chair against the wall behind him. "Yeah, well," he said bitterly. "Moot point. I'm already here."
"Oh goody," Arthur said, aware that he was being childish. He'd have run across the globe if it had been Eames and he would have done horrible things to anyone who tried to slow him down. Eames didn't have excuses though. Eames was the one who didn't have stupid feelings.
Eames's shoulders sank slightly but he caught himself and pasted the false smile back in place. "You have your revenge, darling, because I was with Cobb when she called."
That did make Arthur smile. Eames watched him, too closely for Arthur's comfort.
"He's not--" he began. Eames waved a hand towards the door.
"Coffee," he said by way of explanation.
"You were with him?" Arthur asked, his brow furrowing.
"I was in the neighborhood," Eames said with a shrug. "Old times' sake and all that."
"You were in his neighborhood?"
"Well, America anyway."
Arthur's brow stayed furrowed but Eames had obviously said all he was going to say on the subject. Eames looked awakward, fidgeting in the middle of Arthur's hospital room.
"Did Ariadne look..." Arthur began to ask but couldn't think of how to ask what he wanted to know with actual words. Did she look like whatever their thing was had been sorted? Did she have traces of gun wound guilt? And, at his most petulant, why wasn't she right there in the room, stopping this horrifically awkward encounter from taking place?
"She looked thrilled to see him, mate," said Eames and, oddly, it was the way he said "mate" (not the endearments Arthur bristled at in public but secretly was thrilled by) and not the cruel sneer that Arthur objected to. "Positively dripping with joy."
"Oh," said Arthur because that both sounded wrong and didn't answer what he meant to ask. He shifted slightly and the pain flared again. It must have shown on his face because Eames stopped mocking -- or whatever he was doing -- and sat back in the chair next to Arthur's bed.
"Should I get a nurse?" he asked, his hand automatically finding Arthur's. That was one of the things that made Arthur's stupid feelings so bothersome: Eames couldn't help but care. It didn't mean anything, Arthur reminded himself. He cared about everyone. It's why he was such a shameless flirt. Just basic, omnipresent interest.
"'S fine," Arthur grunted, gritting his teeth.
Eames was looking right into his eyes now and Arthur went all weak-in-the-knees, like a stupid romantic comedy heroine. If he'd been standing, he would have needed to sit.
"Ariadne's not taking good care of you," Eames chided. He brushed the hair off Arthur's forehead, leaning closer. Arthur could feel his breath against his face.
"'m not taking very good care of her either," Arthur said honestly. "She almost got shot today."
Eames's hand hovered over Arthur's face, fingers skimming his cheek. Eames was staring so intently at him, Arthur wondered if he could see into his head. One of Eames's fingers paused in ghost-touch on the corner of his lip. Arthur held his breath, waiting for something to break.
Eames slumped back in his chair, crossing his arms across his chest like a petulant child.
"You've both been atrocious," he agreed, turning his face away from Arthur's. "Obviously, we shouldn't have left you to your own devices."
"Obviously." Eames had meant it as a joke but Arthur found he couldn't do anything with that but just mean it mean it.
"I'm getting you more meds. You need the stuff that will make you positively fly, darling." Eames paused in the door but didn't turn back. He said, turning his face only halfway, "You've earned it."
Arthur huffed a laugh. He pushed himself gingerly up in the bed so that he was sitting relatively comfortably.
He sat in silence for a few minutes before Ariadne and Cobb appeared with coffee.
"None for you," Ariadne scolded when Arthur demanded to know where his was. She perched on the side of the bed and he shifted over to allow her more room. "You get pain meds."
"Eames has gone to get me the good stuff," Arthur said, smiling. "He's a true friend."
"I know, we saw him raising hell in the nurses' lounge just now," Ariadne agreed. "He's already threatened to kill six doctors. He just promised his firstborn child to the nurse that ups your dosage."
"I'm sure they were thrilled at the prospect."
"How are you?" Cobb asked, breaking the mirth. He had a habit of doing that and Arthur had never minded when they worked together because there had never been any mirth to break. Now, with this precarious friendship with Ariadne, he was beginning to realize how much darker Cobb was.
"Could be worse," he answered.
"You should see the other guy," Ariadne said. Arthur ducked his head, hiding the smile that was threatening to break through. He was feeling the reigns tighten just being in the same room as Cobb.
"You took an enormous risk," Cobb said. He frowned at them. "You both did." He looked at Ariadne then and she seemed to shrink under his stare.
"Everybody got out alright, though," said Arthur firmly. "Everyone's OK."
Cobb nodded but Arthur couldn't quite bring himself to look him in the eye.
It was like it had been five months ago, when Ariadne and he had both tried to convince Cobb to come back. They'd tried all sorts of arguments and tactics but Cobb wouldn't budge. Eames had disappeared in the middle of the night about a week after the Fischer job and Arthur had still been smarting, even weeks later. He'd been tender and raw when he and Ariadne had made their case and they, both of them, had felt the brunt of the rejection.
Ariadne still smarted from that the way, if Arthur was honest with himself, Arthur smarted at the fact that Eames had started all this stuff in his head and then had disappeared without doing anything.
That left them here. That left them with Ariadne and Arthur twined together in their hurt but somehow working towards whole again. That left them vulnerable, always and forever, but at least they knew it was mutual.
There was an uncomfortable silence. Arthur could see Ariadne breaking a bit at the edges so he found her hand and gave it a squeeze. She didn't look at him but she gave him a responding squeeze and dropped his hand.
"They have promised you the larder," Eames announced, leaning against the doorframe. "All that and the kitchen sink. You'll be high as a kite before you can say 'Bob's your uncle.'"
"Thanks," Arthur said.
A nurse followed Eames with a kit. She swore it would take the edge off the pain. She stabbed the IV bag next to Arthur's bed with a syringe that terrified him a little by its sheer size and he felt it kick in soon after.
Eames had not been kidding about the high-as-a-kite deal. He blinked and Ariadne and Cobb had disappeared. His head was positively swimming and he grabbed the side of the bed to steady himself.
"Alright there, pet?" Eames said, taking hold of his arm. Arthur looked down to where Eames was holding him, only just aware of the physical touch.
He grinned, broader than he had done for years, just thrilling under the endearment.
"Pet," he repeated proudly. "That one's mine."
Eames smirked. "The word? You can have it if you like it so much."
"Ariadne's buying me pants," Arthur announced, ignoring the splutter that erupted from Eames, "But you're only allowed ... what do you call them?"
"I haven't the foggiest idea."
"The things. Like when you call me 'pet.' And 'darling.'" He flopped back into his pillow. "I think I like that one best."
"You said you hated it when I called you darling," Eames said. Arthur closed his eyes but the room still felt all swimmy.
"'s a tactic." He tried swaying his side from one side to the other. "Ends justify the means, right?"
"What's the end you're aiming for?"
"Just want you to ..." Arthur trailed off, making a vague motion with his hand. "You know." His eyes popped open and he looked right at Eames. "You never do it, though."
"What don't I do?" Eames's voice was tight but Arthur ignored it.
"See, it's the stupid feelings again. And those are all your fault." He put a hand up, possibly to try to point at Eames or just to make another incoherent gesture, but suddenly Eames was much closer and the hand was against Eames's chest.
If it was already there, Arthur figured, it ought to grab a fistful of the shirt. Then, that being accomplished, it ought to pull.
That was how Eames ended up, an arm on either side of Arthur's face, bracing himself and hovering over Arthur's face.
"You're unbelievably beautiful," he said, his face gone all soft again.
Arthur's hand snaked up behind his head then and pulled again since it had gone so well the first time around.
He wasn't so out of it that he didn't know what he was doing but he definitely had had the ability to care what he was doing medically removed. Their mouths were pressed together and, Arthur rationalized, if this was going to be the only time he got to do this than he might as well just rake his tongue against the inside of Eames's mouth. And, having done that, it would be ridiculous to do anything short of a thorough investigation.
Eames, for his part, was frozen when Arthur pulled him forward but began to participate with interest when he had finally found his bearings. He kissed Arthur thoroughly and hungrily. It wasn't graceful, which surprised Arthur, and not at all dignified. Eames's hand snaked under the flimsy hospital gown and Arthur gasped into his mouth when he felt fingers graze his good thigh.
They must have looked ridiculous to the nurses in the hallway.
Eames must have had a similar thought because he pulled back suddenly. Arthur pushed himself back up, watching Eames.
"Right. So. That was..." Eames ran a hand through his hair. "I'm going to...You don't really want..." He looked helpless. "Shall I go find Ariadne?"
"Why?" Arthur tried to bridge the conversational gap. "Why on earth would Ariadne need to be here?"
"She's you--" Eames made an equally vague motion with his hand. "You know."
"Oh, you think--" Arthur said, a giant fucking epiphany dawning. "Oh. No, you've got it all wrong!"
"I'll just get--what?" Eames froze.
"She's in love with Cobb." Arthur felt sure that everyone in the entire world knew that.
"Well, I know that," Eames said. "But I thought you were--you know. Anyway. Despite the other--" he made another vague motion.
"She's a friend," Arthur insisted. "And she understood what it was like to get left."
"To get left?"
"By you, asshole," Arthur clarified. "When you left me even though you made have stupid feelings."
"I made you have feelings?"
"Shut up. I'm high. I'm allowed to say ridiculous things."
Eames sat on the edge of the bed. "You're not confused because of the meds?"
"No."
"And you're not actually in love with Ariadne?"
"No."
"Or Cobb?"
"Definitely not." Arthur made a disgusted face.
"Or--"
"Are you?" Arthur interrupted.
Eames raised an eyebrow. "In love with Cobb? It's safe to say no."
"Or anybody else, really," Arthur pressed. "Or about to run away."
"If...if you want me," Eames said quietly, watching Arthur's eyes, "then, darling, I'm yours."
There was a crash from across the room.
"Sorry! Sorry, I'll just--" Ariadne said, trying to pick up a tin of swabs, "Or I could, you know--over there. Somewhere else. I'll just be somewhere else, shall I?"
Cobb was right behind her, standing just outside of the doorway. He moved an eyebrow slightly when his eyes met Arthur's. He wondered if they'd overheard that horrible embarrassing and immensely awkward scene. He could hope.
Cobb rested a hand on the lowest point on Ariadne's back when they retreated and they were leaning towards each other.
"This was, what, a giant, multi-sided misunderstanding, then?" he asked Eames.
Eames shrugged. "Appearances to the contrary, we are all very clever people."
Arthur grinned, enough to stretch the sides of his face. It was almost painful how happy it made him to be able to pull Eames towards him. "And I thought today was going to be boring."
Author:
ifeelbetterPairing: Arthur/Eames from Inception
Word Count: 4,323
Disclaimer: Don't own anything of value. For serious.
Summary: Arthur and Ariadne happen to be caught up in a bank robbery. Arthur gets hurt and this brings out new sides in just about everybody.
Notes: I don't know why I just wrote Inception fic besides the obviousy Eames and Arthur are so very pretty. From this prompt at
inception_kink which I have been snuggling with all day. "There's an ATM right there," Arthur said. He pointed. "It doesn't even have a line."
"Machines are impersonal. I don't trust them," Ariadne said.
He raised an eyebrow. "You're serious?"
"I saw the Sarah Connor Chronicles. The machines will take over the world someday and it had better not be on my dime."
"Your money is still in a machine," he said. He rubbed at one of his eyes. "This may be the most boring morning in my entire adult life."
"It's a bank. They're not known for their entertainment value." She was digging in her purse for a pen to sign the back of the check her mother had mailed her. It had little yellow ducks on it. Arthur raised an eyebrow at it. "What? It's from my mom."
"I didn't say a thing," he said carefully.
"You didn't say anything very loudly."
He did one of his partial smiles then, one of the ones that crooked the tiniest bit at the corner of his mouth. It was about as much as he was willing to show in amusement and she was glad she could get it out of him. They didn't have much in common on a superficial level -- the creases in his suits were the closest thing he had to a hobby but she built birdhouses in elaborate detail -- but they had eked out a balance in the months following Cobb's retirement. They ate bad take-out and talked shop and then, sometime in the past few weeks, they'd even started to talk about other things.
It wasn't much but it was something.
So he'd shrugged and followed her on her stupid errands. She assumed he was just legitimately bored without Cobb and his insane schemes. They'd taken a couple of jobs, just the two of them, but it had always been low-key and low-stakes and, therefore, low-interest.
And they didn't talk about Cobb and they didn't talk about Eames.
The top two buttons on his shirt were loose and he hadn't worn a tie in over a week.
Ariadne couldn't help but notice details like that.
That was why she felt her eyes drawn to a piece of black fabric hanging out of some guy's pocket. His eyes met hers right before he took it out and pulled it over his face.
"Everybody on the floor!" he screamed but she was already tugging on Arthur's arm, pulling him behind a pillar.
"Shit," she said. Arthur looked sharper at the edges, his jaw tightening.
"Only that one guy?"
"Arthur, I saw his face just now," she said insistently. "He saw me see his face."
Arthur nodded slightly, efficiently. He leaned around the pole just enough to see what the bank robber was doing.
"I need $500,000 in this bag," the guy was saying, pointing a smallish gun into some bank teller's face. His hand was shaking, though.
"He's not a pro," Arthur said. "He won't kill you."
"You can't be sure," she said, breathless.
"He's just a guy at the end of his rope," he said. "He only wants $500. That sounds like a loan come in or something. He's got his eyes on the prize. He'll only be worried about you if he can see you."
"You can't be sure," she repeated.
He shrugged and patted his pockets. A month ago, he would have at least had a gun somewhere, maybe even a silencer. Three months ago, he would have had a small arsenal hidden around his person. There was a personal epiphany to be had in that information but it would have to wait until after this business.
"I don't even have a Swiss Army knife," Ariadne said in response to his unspoken question.
"Then we stay put."
The guy was still waiting on the bag. Arthur could only assume that somebody had flipped a silent alarm somewhere. This guy didn't look nearly put together enough to have disabled them beforehand.
The bag was filled in what seemed like a glacial pace. Arthur could see the dye-packs, some of them sitting on the very top layer of the packets of bills. He could have cleaned this operation up so much. A couple days scouting, a bribed inside-man...the possibilities for improvement were endless.
It was like fucking amateur night. It felt ridiculous to be ducking behind a pillar for this joker.
Then Ariadne sneezed. For a split second, in the moment when your face inevitably conveys utter truth, he couldn't help goggling at her. It was, without a doubt, the very worst thing she could have done.
The bank robber whipped around, his wobbly gun pointed in their general direction and Arthur could practically see it occur to him to take care of the girl who saw his face. If Ariadne hadn't fucking sneezed, they would have been home free already.
"You!" the guy shouted, catching sight of the edge of Ariadne's bag. "Stand up. And keep your hands where I can see them!"
Ariadne stood slowly, her face completely drained of color.
"I didn't see anything. Especially not your face," she said and, this time, Arthur couldn't refrain from audibly groaning. Ariadne was basically asking to be shot.
"You stand the fuck up too," the bank robber said and Arthur twinged internally. Groaning had not been the best way to stay under-the-radar at that particular moment either.
He tried to stand a little in front of Ariadne, enough to tell the bank robber that she was small fish compared to him.
"We don't want any trouble, mister," he said, carefully pitching his voice in what he hoped was a comforting register. "We're just a couple of people who happened to be at the bank today."
"Not seeing faces," Ariadne added nervously. He tried to nudge her with his foot. She closed her mouth.
"This bitch is trying to start something with me," the guy said.
Oh good, thought Arthur. He had been hoping for a bank robber out of a sitcom, the type who's only doing this because his kid is in the hospital or something. This guy was definitely going to disappoint him, though. This guys just sounded like a douche.
"Definitely not trying to start something," Arthur said. He paused and then made a face. "Oh, you meant her?" He smirked. "Your terminology was unspecific."
"You trying to start something?" the bank robber demanded. He seemed stuck in the refrain.
"I think we can all agree you're the one who started this. You are the one with the gun and the bag full of stolen money." Angry criminals are stupid criminals, right? Hadn't Cobb said that once?
"Maybe I'm taking a hostage with me," the bank robber said. He got closer to them until his gun bumped into the third button on Arthur's shirt. "Maybe I'm taking this twink with me for leverage." He struck Arthur across the face, making Arthur spit out a bit of blood.
Arthur grinned. "I get this all the time," he said to Ariadne in a stage whisper before turning back to the bank robber. "You're not my type. Sorry."
The guy was thoroughly pissed. Arthur's mind was racing. It wasn't, by far, the first time he'd had to come up with a new plan on the fly but it was one of the worst plans he'd ever come up with on the fly.
The guy made up his mind. "You're carrying the money," he informed Arthur, tossing him the bag. "And I will shoot you in the face if you try any funny business."
"I have it on pretty good authority that I'm never funny," Arthur said. The bag was heavy, at least. He could hit the guy with it. It might give him enough of a pause for him to get Ariadne out of there.
There were all those dye-packs too. He glanced down. If he could grab that one right there, the one sitting on the very top of the piles, maybe he could make something of that.
It's not like he could make the situation much worse.
There were sirens in the distance. The guy looked away for a split second and that was all Arthur needed. He reached down, pulled the dye-pack out and set it off in the guy's face in the milisecond it took the guy to return his attention to Arthur. The guy was obviously not a pro, no pro would have reflexes that bad. Arthur was able to twist away from him as the gun went off, sending him falling onto Ariadne. A flare of familiar pain erupted in his leg.
He would have to take back the thing about the new plan not being able to make things worse.
"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit," Ariadne said, her hands flailing around his leg without making contact.
The bank robber was distracted by the sirens at least. He moved towards one of the windows, trying to stay out of sight in the shadow of the window frame.
"Arthur, I don't know what to do," Ariadne said, her voice high and breathy. He forgot how young she was so much of the time. Her eyes were incredibly bright and shiny.
"I think I've been shot," he told her. He checked his pocket for the die and ran a finger pad along the groves of the number. Yep, he definitely wasn't dreaming. That sucked.
"No shit, Sherlock," she said. "I think I should tie something around your leg." She held up the fabric of his pant-leg to rip it.
"Wait!" he said. He bit his bottom lip because you aren't really allowed to stop people from bandaging your injuries based on the fact you don't want them to rip a nice pair of pants. That sort of thing is just not done.
She gave him a knowing look and ripped anyway. "I'll buy you a new pair. It's the least I can do."
"Taking a bullet for you is absolutely worth a new pair of pants," he agreed.
She had to rip higher in pants because the wound was just above his knee, somewhere in his thigh.
"I liked these pants," he sighed.
"I'll buy you twenty just like them, soon as we're out of this," she said, tying the makeshift bandage.
"Tailored," he insisted.
"Gold-plated, if you want it." She wiped the back of her hand across her forehead. Her hand was drenched in blood.
"Don't be silly. Only M.C. Hammer wears gold pants." He craned his head to look towards the bank robber.
"He's just standing in front of the window. Honestly." He hissed a breath, propping himself up on his elbows. "I was shot by the worst bank robber in the entire world. This is so embarrassing."
"I promise I won't tell if you don't," Ariadne said.
Arthur was right, though, and the bank robber was shot by a sniper within ten minutes of the police arriving. Arthur was the only official injury.
Ariadne sat beside him in the back of the ambulance. The paramedics were all hovering over the bank robber with a hole in his head which, as Ariadne pointed out, seemed backwards.
"I meant it about the pants," she said, her feet dangling off the back of the open ambulance. Arthur leaned into her a little.
"So did I." He grinned. She smiled back at him warily. This was the first time one of them had been injured in the real world. She looked shell-shocked. "Hey," he said, bumping her shoulder. "I'm fine."
"Yeah," she agreed but didn't really meet his eyes.
The paramedics returned in another flurry and whisked him away to the hospital. Ariadne tried to hold his hand in the ambulance -- the paramedics obviously thought she was his girlfriend -- but he told her sharply that he had a gunshot wound but that did not make him a preschool girl.
She really grinned that time.
She disappeared when they got to the actual hospital and he was pushed around on a gurney which was hilarious all by itself.
And then he was in surgery so he just sank into a blank, dreamless sleep.
*****
He woke up groggily staring at a pair of leather boots. They were propped awkwardly on the edge of his hospital bed, directly in his face.
He would thoroughly deny it if it ever came up in conversation but that really was all he had to see to know Ariadne had done the stupidest thing on option and had called Eames. He could tell by his stupid shoes.
"I'm going to kill that girl," he said, his voice hoarse. The shoes disappeared, giving him an actual view of the room.
"Did you wake up on the wrong side of the hospital bed, pet?" Eames said.
"I'm going to kill myself and then you next," Arthur said, trying to push himself up in the bed. He winced as the pain flared in his leg again.
"I wouldn't suggest moving, darling. You've been shot, remember?" Something in Eames's voice sounded off. His grin was false, like a tiger's grin before it mauled a tiny jungle creature.
"Hard to forget the bullet wound in my leg, yes," Arthur said flatly. He cocked his head to one side. "She shouldn't have called you."
Eames stood so suddenly that he knocked the chair against the wall behind him. "Yeah, well," he said bitterly. "Moot point. I'm already here."
"Oh goody," Arthur said, aware that he was being childish. He'd have run across the globe if it had been Eames and he would have done horrible things to anyone who tried to slow him down. Eames didn't have excuses though. Eames was the one who didn't have stupid feelings.
Eames's shoulders sank slightly but he caught himself and pasted the false smile back in place. "You have your revenge, darling, because I was with Cobb when she called."
That did make Arthur smile. Eames watched him, too closely for Arthur's comfort.
"He's not--" he began. Eames waved a hand towards the door.
"Coffee," he said by way of explanation.
"You were with him?" Arthur asked, his brow furrowing.
"I was in the neighborhood," Eames said with a shrug. "Old times' sake and all that."
"You were in his neighborhood?"
"Well, America anyway."
Arthur's brow stayed furrowed but Eames had obviously said all he was going to say on the subject. Eames looked awakward, fidgeting in the middle of Arthur's hospital room.
"Did Ariadne look..." Arthur began to ask but couldn't think of how to ask what he wanted to know with actual words. Did she look like whatever their thing was had been sorted? Did she have traces of gun wound guilt? And, at his most petulant, why wasn't she right there in the room, stopping this horrifically awkward encounter from taking place?
"She looked thrilled to see him, mate," said Eames and, oddly, it was the way he said "mate" (not the endearments Arthur bristled at in public but secretly was thrilled by) and not the cruel sneer that Arthur objected to. "Positively dripping with joy."
"Oh," said Arthur because that both sounded wrong and didn't answer what he meant to ask. He shifted slightly and the pain flared again. It must have shown on his face because Eames stopped mocking -- or whatever he was doing -- and sat back in the chair next to Arthur's bed.
"Should I get a nurse?" he asked, his hand automatically finding Arthur's. That was one of the things that made Arthur's stupid feelings so bothersome: Eames couldn't help but care. It didn't mean anything, Arthur reminded himself. He cared about everyone. It's why he was such a shameless flirt. Just basic, omnipresent interest.
"'S fine," Arthur grunted, gritting his teeth.
Eames was looking right into his eyes now and Arthur went all weak-in-the-knees, like a stupid romantic comedy heroine. If he'd been standing, he would have needed to sit.
"Ariadne's not taking good care of you," Eames chided. He brushed the hair off Arthur's forehead, leaning closer. Arthur could feel his breath against his face.
"'m not taking very good care of her either," Arthur said honestly. "She almost got shot today."
Eames's hand hovered over Arthur's face, fingers skimming his cheek. Eames was staring so intently at him, Arthur wondered if he could see into his head. One of Eames's fingers paused in ghost-touch on the corner of his lip. Arthur held his breath, waiting for something to break.
Eames slumped back in his chair, crossing his arms across his chest like a petulant child.
"You've both been atrocious," he agreed, turning his face away from Arthur's. "Obviously, we shouldn't have left you to your own devices."
"Obviously." Eames had meant it as a joke but Arthur found he couldn't do anything with that but just mean it mean it.
"I'm getting you more meds. You need the stuff that will make you positively fly, darling." Eames paused in the door but didn't turn back. He said, turning his face only halfway, "You've earned it."
Arthur huffed a laugh. He pushed himself gingerly up in the bed so that he was sitting relatively comfortably.
He sat in silence for a few minutes before Ariadne and Cobb appeared with coffee.
"None for you," Ariadne scolded when Arthur demanded to know where his was. She perched on the side of the bed and he shifted over to allow her more room. "You get pain meds."
"Eames has gone to get me the good stuff," Arthur said, smiling. "He's a true friend."
"I know, we saw him raising hell in the nurses' lounge just now," Ariadne agreed. "He's already threatened to kill six doctors. He just promised his firstborn child to the nurse that ups your dosage."
"I'm sure they were thrilled at the prospect."
"How are you?" Cobb asked, breaking the mirth. He had a habit of doing that and Arthur had never minded when they worked together because there had never been any mirth to break. Now, with this precarious friendship with Ariadne, he was beginning to realize how much darker Cobb was.
"Could be worse," he answered.
"You should see the other guy," Ariadne said. Arthur ducked his head, hiding the smile that was threatening to break through. He was feeling the reigns tighten just being in the same room as Cobb.
"You took an enormous risk," Cobb said. He frowned at them. "You both did." He looked at Ariadne then and she seemed to shrink under his stare.
"Everybody got out alright, though," said Arthur firmly. "Everyone's OK."
Cobb nodded but Arthur couldn't quite bring himself to look him in the eye.
It was like it had been five months ago, when Ariadne and he had both tried to convince Cobb to come back. They'd tried all sorts of arguments and tactics but Cobb wouldn't budge. Eames had disappeared in the middle of the night about a week after the Fischer job and Arthur had still been smarting, even weeks later. He'd been tender and raw when he and Ariadne had made their case and they, both of them, had felt the brunt of the rejection.
Ariadne still smarted from that the way, if Arthur was honest with himself, Arthur smarted at the fact that Eames had started all this stuff in his head and then had disappeared without doing anything.
That left them here. That left them with Ariadne and Arthur twined together in their hurt but somehow working towards whole again. That left them vulnerable, always and forever, but at least they knew it was mutual.
There was an uncomfortable silence. Arthur could see Ariadne breaking a bit at the edges so he found her hand and gave it a squeeze. She didn't look at him but she gave him a responding squeeze and dropped his hand.
"They have promised you the larder," Eames announced, leaning against the doorframe. "All that and the kitchen sink. You'll be high as a kite before you can say 'Bob's your uncle.'"
"Thanks," Arthur said.
A nurse followed Eames with a kit. She swore it would take the edge off the pain. She stabbed the IV bag next to Arthur's bed with a syringe that terrified him a little by its sheer size and he felt it kick in soon after.
Eames had not been kidding about the high-as-a-kite deal. He blinked and Ariadne and Cobb had disappeared. His head was positively swimming and he grabbed the side of the bed to steady himself.
"Alright there, pet?" Eames said, taking hold of his arm. Arthur looked down to where Eames was holding him, only just aware of the physical touch.
He grinned, broader than he had done for years, just thrilling under the endearment.
"Pet," he repeated proudly. "That one's mine."
Eames smirked. "The word? You can have it if you like it so much."
"Ariadne's buying me pants," Arthur announced, ignoring the splutter that erupted from Eames, "But you're only allowed ... what do you call them?"
"I haven't the foggiest idea."
"The things. Like when you call me 'pet.' And 'darling.'" He flopped back into his pillow. "I think I like that one best."
"You said you hated it when I called you darling," Eames said. Arthur closed his eyes but the room still felt all swimmy.
"'s a tactic." He tried swaying his side from one side to the other. "Ends justify the means, right?"
"What's the end you're aiming for?"
"Just want you to ..." Arthur trailed off, making a vague motion with his hand. "You know." His eyes popped open and he looked right at Eames. "You never do it, though."
"What don't I do?" Eames's voice was tight but Arthur ignored it.
"See, it's the stupid feelings again. And those are all your fault." He put a hand up, possibly to try to point at Eames or just to make another incoherent gesture, but suddenly Eames was much closer and the hand was against Eames's chest.
If it was already there, Arthur figured, it ought to grab a fistful of the shirt. Then, that being accomplished, it ought to pull.
That was how Eames ended up, an arm on either side of Arthur's face, bracing himself and hovering over Arthur's face.
"You're unbelievably beautiful," he said, his face gone all soft again.
Arthur's hand snaked up behind his head then and pulled again since it had gone so well the first time around.
He wasn't so out of it that he didn't know what he was doing but he definitely had had the ability to care what he was doing medically removed. Their mouths were pressed together and, Arthur rationalized, if this was going to be the only time he got to do this than he might as well just rake his tongue against the inside of Eames's mouth. And, having done that, it would be ridiculous to do anything short of a thorough investigation.
Eames, for his part, was frozen when Arthur pulled him forward but began to participate with interest when he had finally found his bearings. He kissed Arthur thoroughly and hungrily. It wasn't graceful, which surprised Arthur, and not at all dignified. Eames's hand snaked under the flimsy hospital gown and Arthur gasped into his mouth when he felt fingers graze his good thigh.
They must have looked ridiculous to the nurses in the hallway.
Eames must have had a similar thought because he pulled back suddenly. Arthur pushed himself back up, watching Eames.
"Right. So. That was..." Eames ran a hand through his hair. "I'm going to...You don't really want..." He looked helpless. "Shall I go find Ariadne?"
"Why?" Arthur tried to bridge the conversational gap. "Why on earth would Ariadne need to be here?"
"She's you--" Eames made an equally vague motion with his hand. "You know."
"Oh, you think--" Arthur said, a giant fucking epiphany dawning. "Oh. No, you've got it all wrong!"
"I'll just get--what?" Eames froze.
"She's in love with Cobb." Arthur felt sure that everyone in the entire world knew that.
"Well, I know that," Eames said. "But I thought you were--you know. Anyway. Despite the other--" he made another vague motion.
"She's a friend," Arthur insisted. "And she understood what it was like to get left."
"To get left?"
"By you, asshole," Arthur clarified. "When you left me even though you made have stupid feelings."
"I made you have feelings?"
"Shut up. I'm high. I'm allowed to say ridiculous things."
Eames sat on the edge of the bed. "You're not confused because of the meds?"
"No."
"And you're not actually in love with Ariadne?"
"No."
"Or Cobb?"
"Definitely not." Arthur made a disgusted face.
"Or--"
"Are you?" Arthur interrupted.
Eames raised an eyebrow. "In love with Cobb? It's safe to say no."
"Or anybody else, really," Arthur pressed. "Or about to run away."
"If...if you want me," Eames said quietly, watching Arthur's eyes, "then, darling, I'm yours."
There was a crash from across the room.
"Sorry! Sorry, I'll just--" Ariadne said, trying to pick up a tin of swabs, "Or I could, you know--over there. Somewhere else. I'll just be somewhere else, shall I?"
Cobb was right behind her, standing just outside of the doorway. He moved an eyebrow slightly when his eyes met Arthur's. He wondered if they'd overheard that horrible embarrassing and immensely awkward scene. He could hope.
Cobb rested a hand on the lowest point on Ariadne's back when they retreated and they were leaning towards each other.
"This was, what, a giant, multi-sided misunderstanding, then?" he asked Eames.
Eames shrugged. "Appearances to the contrary, we are all very clever people."
Arthur grinned, enough to stretch the sides of his face. It was almost painful how happy it made him to be able to pull Eames towards him. "And I thought today was going to be boring."
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-07-26 07:30 am (UTC)"Don't be silly. Only M.C. Hammer wears gold pants."
also this was just awesome!! And cute! Especially cute! thanks :D Also awesome music choice x]
no subject
Date: 2010-07-26 04:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-26 09:25 am (UTC)One tiny thing though, think it might be the Sarah Connor Chronicles with the machine-world-domination. Sarah Jane just has sonic lipstick. ;)
no subject
Date: 2010-07-26 04:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-26 05:24 pm (UTC)And no problem, I'd hate to miss something like that in my own writing. Not that I've written in years, but you never know, Inception might tempt me...Eames/Arthur is so very pretty.
no subject
Date: 2010-07-26 03:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-26 04:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-26 06:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-29 06:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-27 04:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-29 06:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-30 02:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-30 03:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-31 04:05 pm (UTC)Yay for pain meds that brought them together! lmaoz
no subject
Date: 2010-08-03 10:41 am (UTC)Such dry drollness is vintage Eames. So lovely!
no subject
Date: 2010-08-14 04:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-27 07:42 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-29 08:06 pm (UTC)how have i not seen this until just now, oh my gosh this is the most adorable thing in the ENTIRE WORLD dfJKFAFDJ*____*
no subject
Date: 2010-08-30 12:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-30 03:09 am (UTC)But that kiss <3 that was gorgeous *_* loved the entire fic, thanks so much for sharing!!!
no subject
Date: 2011-04-29 02:58 am (UTC)