Say What You Mean (or, Mean What You Say)
Aug. 6th, 2010 12:02 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ifeelbetterTitle: Say What You Mean (or, Mean What You Say)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ifeelbetter
Warning: There be fluff in them there hills.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Word Count: 742
Summary: With all the pet-names flying around, is it really all that surprising that Arthur calls Eames 'darling' once by accident?
Notes: Written for this prompt in the second round of the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
inception_kink kink_meme. Short'n'sweet, 99% fluff.
ShitshitSHIT, thought Arthur. Then, when he saw that Eames had heard, that he'd frozen and that his expression--usually the equivalent of reading "See Spot Run" in terms of difficulty--had dropped, Arthur added: Fuck. Just for good measure.
"Come again?" Eames said. Why did he choose now to have fucking subtlety in his face? Why would this be the moment that Arthur couldn't be sure whether he was about to be teased for the rest of eternity or ... whatever the "or" was. Because the "or" was in Eames's eyes, even if the teasing was tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"No," said Arthur.
"I really didn't quite catch that, dear," said Eames. He held the folder up and pointed to it. "Were you asking me for the file?"
"You know damn well--" Arthur said through gritted teeth.
"Because you might have meant for Yusuf to hand you his file," Eames continued, pointedly blank.
"I'm pretty sure he meant you," said Yusuf.
"Yusuf doesn't even have a file, you ass," said Arthur.
"To avoid confusion, then," said Eames, drawing his words out. "One more time."
Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose. "Pass me that file," he repeated. Eames didn't move. Arthur sighed. "Darling."
"And that means me, does it?" Eames said, the smirk entirely overpowering his expression and gaining momentum. It still didn't touch his eyes, though. That goddamned "or" was still in his eyes.
"You're never going to give me that file, are you?"
"Language is delicate and unspecific, my pet," said Eames, chiding. "One must take caution in expressing oneself and in the interpretation of others."
"One must also hand over the goddamned file."
"All I ask for, in this life, is a little clarity." Eames pushed his chair back and sauntered towards Arthur, slow as molasses. "When you say, 'Pass me that file, darling,' are you saying that you want me to pass you this file or," and Arthur had never been so plagued by the word 'or' before, "are you asking, darling, for something else?"
Yusuf took a disgustingly loud mouthful of his sandwich and, chewing, said, "I'd bet fifty bucks on the latter."
"Shut up," Arthur hissed.
"Now, now," said Eames, leaning on the desk beside Arthur's arm, "let's not take our frustration out on poor Yusuf."
"I think he wants to take his frustration out on--" Yusuf began but broke off into a wide, food-filled grin as he swallowed. "You know."
"Shut up," Arthur hissed again, louder.
"Focus on me, please," said Eames, directing Arthur's face by a finger on his chin. "Let's say, for the edification of all and sundry, who in this room is your darling?"
"I didn't mean--"
"Just for clarity."
Arthur swallowed as Eames tapped the finger against his chin. He really didn't know whether he was furious enough to shoot Eames in the face yet or--the goddamned "or" again--whether this might just be the moment to do something else.
"I was talking to you," he said, finally.
"I thought as much," Eames said. He spun Arthur's chair so that they were facing each other dead-on.
"And when you say 'pass the file, darling,'" Eames insisted, his arms bracketing Arthur, leaning heavily on the arms of Arthur's chair, "did you mean 'pass the file' or, you know, 'pass the file.'"
"There's no double entendre in a file, Eames," said Arthur.
"I definitely heard a double entendre," Yusuf said.
"Shut up," Arthur and Eames said simultaneously.
"You can be honest, pet," said Eames, leaning even closer to Arthur.
"I meant--" he started to say but, really, what the ever loving fuck was the point of all this linguistic back-and-forthing when, yes, the answer was definitely the double entendre because how could a single entendre exist in a world where pants sat like that on Eames, and so, yes, he meant--and would always mean--pass the file.
Arthur closed the last hairline of space between their mouths. And with a mouth like Eames's involved, it was the kind of kiss that poets spend their entire careers trying to recapture with words. It was the kind of kiss that sends everyone to their totems, flipping poker chips and tossing dice--generally making sure that reality was also capable of extraordinary things.
"That's what I said you meant," Yusuf said.
The file hit him squarely across the face, the sheets of paper scattering around his feet.
Author:
ifeelbetterWarning: There be fluff in them there hills.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Word Count: 742
Summary: With all the pet-names flying around, is it really all that surprising that Arthur calls Eames 'darling' once by accident?
Notes: Written for this prompt in the second round of the
inception_kink kink_meme. Short'n'sweet, 99% fluff. ShitshitSHIT, thought Arthur. Then, when he saw that Eames had heard, that he'd frozen and that his expression--usually the equivalent of reading "See Spot Run" in terms of difficulty--had dropped, Arthur added: Fuck. Just for good measure.
"Come again?" Eames said. Why did he choose now to have fucking subtlety in his face? Why would this be the moment that Arthur couldn't be sure whether he was about to be teased for the rest of eternity or ... whatever the "or" was. Because the "or" was in Eames's eyes, even if the teasing was tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"No," said Arthur.
"I really didn't quite catch that, dear," said Eames. He held the folder up and pointed to it. "Were you asking me for the file?"
"You know damn well--" Arthur said through gritted teeth.
"Because you might have meant for Yusuf to hand you his file," Eames continued, pointedly blank.
"I'm pretty sure he meant you," said Yusuf.
"Yusuf doesn't even have a file, you ass," said Arthur.
"To avoid confusion, then," said Eames, drawing his words out. "One more time."
Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose. "Pass me that file," he repeated. Eames didn't move. Arthur sighed. "Darling."
"And that means me, does it?" Eames said, the smirk entirely overpowering his expression and gaining momentum. It still didn't touch his eyes, though. That goddamned "or" was still in his eyes.
"You're never going to give me that file, are you?"
"Language is delicate and unspecific, my pet," said Eames, chiding. "One must take caution in expressing oneself and in the interpretation of others."
"One must also hand over the goddamned file."
"All I ask for, in this life, is a little clarity." Eames pushed his chair back and sauntered towards Arthur, slow as molasses. "When you say, 'Pass me that file, darling,' are you saying that you want me to pass you this file or," and Arthur had never been so plagued by the word 'or' before, "are you asking, darling, for something else?"
Yusuf took a disgustingly loud mouthful of his sandwich and, chewing, said, "I'd bet fifty bucks on the latter."
"Shut up," Arthur hissed.
"Now, now," said Eames, leaning on the desk beside Arthur's arm, "let's not take our frustration out on poor Yusuf."
"I think he wants to take his frustration out on--" Yusuf began but broke off into a wide, food-filled grin as he swallowed. "You know."
"Shut up," Arthur hissed again, louder.
"Focus on me, please," said Eames, directing Arthur's face by a finger on his chin. "Let's say, for the edification of all and sundry, who in this room is your darling?"
"I didn't mean--"
"Just for clarity."
Arthur swallowed as Eames tapped the finger against his chin. He really didn't know whether he was furious enough to shoot Eames in the face yet or--the goddamned "or" again--whether this might just be the moment to do something else.
"I was talking to you," he said, finally.
"I thought as much," Eames said. He spun Arthur's chair so that they were facing each other dead-on.
"And when you say 'pass the file, darling,'" Eames insisted, his arms bracketing Arthur, leaning heavily on the arms of Arthur's chair, "did you mean 'pass the file' or, you know, 'pass the file.'"
"There's no double entendre in a file, Eames," said Arthur.
"I definitely heard a double entendre," Yusuf said.
"Shut up," Arthur and Eames said simultaneously.
"You can be honest, pet," said Eames, leaning even closer to Arthur.
"I meant--" he started to say but, really, what the ever loving fuck was the point of all this linguistic back-and-forthing when, yes, the answer was definitely the double entendre because how could a single entendre exist in a world where pants sat like that on Eames, and so, yes, he meant--and would always mean--pass the file.
Arthur closed the last hairline of space between their mouths. And with a mouth like Eames's involved, it was the kind of kiss that poets spend their entire careers trying to recapture with words. It was the kind of kiss that sends everyone to their totems, flipping poker chips and tossing dice--generally making sure that reality was also capable of extraordinary things.
"That's what I said you meant," Yusuf said.
The file hit him squarely across the face, the sheets of paper scattering around his feet.
