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ifeelbetterTitle: I Won't Mind (if you take off all your clothes)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ifeelbetter
Warning: I MADE CRACK AGAIN. WHAT.
Disclaimer: I own nothing of value besides one truly awesome ukulele.
Word Count: 1,446
Summary: Arthur makes a list of ways in which all the wild monkey sex he is having with Eames is getting in the way of Work. They try to refrain for a bit but that...backfires.
Notes: Prompt from![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
inception_kink meme: Arthur and Eames try to make their relationship less sexual by trying to stay off sex for a while. When they both realize that this is impossible, they try to seduce each other to make the other break before themselves.
PS - The title (and the cut-text) is from Ida Maria's song I Like You So Much Better When You're Naked. BECAUSE OF THE APPROPRIATENESS OF IT.
Once they started resolving all their arguments with sex (spectacular as it was), a couple of problems arose. Arthur made a list. Then he texted Eames to meet him in a Starbucks two blocks away from his New York apartment. He figured it was a Starbucks and even Eames couldn't work up an erection in a Starbucks.
Eames was waiting for him outside when he arrived. They entered, ordered their drinks (black for Arthur, ridiculous amounts of sugar and whipped cream for Eames), disappeared into the restroom, and were back before their orders had been called.
"This is ridiculous," Arthur pointed out, tucking the back of his shirt back in.
"Absolutely," Eames agreed. His hair was sticking up in the back from where Arthur had grabbed it.
"We have to do something about it," said Arthur, leaning across the table to smooth the offending hair back into place. "I made a list."
Eames caught the wrist of the hand that had stopped smoothing his hair and had started running the strands between his fingers, somewhat along the lines of petting. "Arthur," he warned.
Arthur withdrew his hand and cleared his throat. "I made a list," he repeated.
Eames read it through quickly when Arthur handed it to him.
Detriments Resulting from Nearly Constant Sex:
1. Arguments that could benefit the work at hand are disregarded instead of solved.
2. Useful routines are ignored.
3. Eventually, the team will notice and then conversation will be awkward.
4. I don't even like you.
"When you put it like that..." Eames said. "Though I'm concerned by the order of your list. Not liking me is not the first reason you thought of to stop having sex with me?"
"No," said Arthur and refused to elaborate. Eames raised an eyebrow.
"So we're going to go...what's the Yank phrase? 'Cold turkey'?" Eames asked, carefully folding the list and pushing it back towards Arthur.
"Yes."
"Starting...?"
Their eyes met.
"Oh, fine," Arthur said. "But in my apartment. That bathroom was disgusting."
* * * * *
They started to Sexless Experiment the next morning. Afternoon. Brunch-time...or thereabouts.
Arthur booked a flight to Paris. It would be easier if he and Eames weren't on the same continent, after all. He could see Ariadne, maybe drop in on Miles. It would be relaxing and productive.
He had lunch with Ariadne a couple days after he arrived. She chatted about her last few classes and how Miles was bending the system for her so that she was doing an independent study according to her transcript but was really jet-setting around the world with Dom. Arthur tried to stay interested but he found that his leg was twitching rhythmically in a nervous tic. It had been doing it for at least 24 hours.
"You have somewhere to be?" Ariadne asked, obviously a bit annoyed.
"No," Arthur said, frowning. "Why do you ask?"
"You keep looking at your watch. And you're obviously bored."
Arthur's frown deepened. "It's not you--" he started to say but clamped his mouth shut. It would be absurd for #3 to happen when they weren't having sex. "I have...things on my mind," he said, settling awkwardly into the words.
She rolled her eyes. "You're already planning the Morocco job, aren't you? Jesus, Arthur, Cobb only just decided to take it yesterday."
Arthur frowned. He didn't know about any Morocco job. He ran through the past two days in his mind, trying to figure out where he could have missed some sort of notice from Cobb that they were going to start a new job.
Then his hand flew to his pocket, the one that his cell phone usually was in. Sure enough, it was missing. He had a vague memory of spending an hour that morning scrolling through his contacts (always landing on "Eames") and then throwing it across the room in a huff of frustration.
The phone was waiting for him later that day, the one missed call from Dom blinking on the screen.
There went #2 as well.
* * * * *
When Arthur found himself biting his tongue rather than pointing out that Eames had no experience forging children and, thus, it was a stupid plan because of the way Eames had left the top button of his shirt un-done, he re-evaluated the list.
The first three were all a bust despite the Sexless Experiment. The fourth, which Arthur had to admit was somewhere between an utter falsehood and a white lie, could do what it pleased.
He'd have to find a way to end the Sexless Experiment post haste before anything else went wrong. Obviously, he had to seduce Eames.
That was the difficulty, he realized. It wasn't that he was a novice at seduction--no, really, he wasn't--it was just that it had never made sense between Eames and him to begin with. He didn't know why he himself was attracted to Eames, let alone why Eames wanted him. So replicating the series of events that initiated the passionate and lengthy bouts of sex was nearly an impossibility.
Arthur realized that Eames had stopped speaking and was looking at him. Everyone was looking at him.
"Sorry--what?" he said, shaking his head.
* * * * *
Maybe it was the suits. Arthur was aware that he had fantastic suits. He had one he'd never worn at work before, a suit specially crafted by a wizened old retired tailor in an obscure alley in Bristol who had once kept Cary Grant waiting in the street for three hours before he deigned to see him. Arthur could be very convincing and the man had given him the suit free of charge. Arthur never wore it to work because, obviously, it might wrinkle. Or get blood stains.
He wore that one. And he met Eames's eyes at one point, when the light was slanting through the giant paneled windows, and loosened his tie.
Eames licked his lips.
Touche, thought Arthur.
* * * * *
On the job--in the mark's dream--Eames started eating a banana. In a way that was, to put it mildly, highly suggestive.
"Jesus Christ," Ariadne breathed, standing beside Arthur. Arthur agreed wholeheartedly.
Eames smirked.
* * * * *
Arthur only had to un-do his cufflinks and roll up his sleeves later, when they were back in the real world, before Eames was hastily excusing himself.
* * * * *
The absurd game of Sex Chicken they had going on last for three weeks. The job was long since over but they didn't let that stop them. Arthur followed Eames back to visit his family in Norwich (he'd had to do some quick thinking to come up with an explanation that wasn't "I want to get you to want to have sex with me so I can hold it against you later that you folded first") and they just kept upping the ante.
Then Eames followed Arthur when Arthur had to leave for a job back in Paris but the game continued and the sex still didn't returned. Arthur's right hand had never had such a busy month.
Eames popped up all over Paris. Arthur would be tailing the mark through the tourist attractions of Paris and Eames would suddenly appear at his elbow eating a crepe, ready to offer a second to Arthur. Arthur wouldn't accept but he'd have to listen, legs crossed, while Eames licked the cream off his fingers. Or Arthur would be having a drink after a hard day's work and Eames's hand would be on his hip before he could even register the man was in the room.
And then there was, in a move that could just as easily have been a stroke of brilliance as the stupidest blunder, the time Eames showed up far drunker than drunk on Arthur's doorstep.
He was lying across Arthur's stoop and singing Edith Piaf quietly when Arthur got home. Arthur had to take a moment to appreciate the way French sounded in Eames's mouth...and then he had to take a moment to wrench his brain back into the present.
"You're on my stoop," Arthur pointed out.
"Made a list," Eames said, not opening his eyes. He held a napkin up towards Arthur.
1. Sex is your friend.
2. Good exercise.
3. I am a stunning conversationalist.
4.I don't like you either, you poncy git.
The last one was barely legible, having been crossed out hard enough to rip through the napkin.
"Yeah, alright," Arthur said, poking Eames with the toe of his shoe. "Come on in."
Arthur decided to count the Sexless Experiment as a failure.
Author:
ifeelbetterWarning: I MADE CRACK AGAIN. WHAT.
Disclaimer: I own nothing of value besides one truly awesome ukulele.
Word Count: 1,446
Summary: Arthur makes a list of ways in which all the wild monkey sex he is having with Eames is getting in the way of Work. They try to refrain for a bit but that...backfires.
Notes: Prompt from
inception_kink meme: Arthur and Eames try to make their relationship less sexual by trying to stay off sex for a while. When they both realize that this is impossible, they try to seduce each other to make the other break before themselves.PS - The title (and the cut-text) is from Ida Maria's song I Like You So Much Better When You're Naked. BECAUSE OF THE APPROPRIATENESS OF IT.
Once they started resolving all their arguments with sex (spectacular as it was), a couple of problems arose. Arthur made a list. Then he texted Eames to meet him in a Starbucks two blocks away from his New York apartment. He figured it was a Starbucks and even Eames couldn't work up an erection in a Starbucks.
Eames was waiting for him outside when he arrived. They entered, ordered their drinks (black for Arthur, ridiculous amounts of sugar and whipped cream for Eames), disappeared into the restroom, and were back before their orders had been called.
"This is ridiculous," Arthur pointed out, tucking the back of his shirt back in.
"Absolutely," Eames agreed. His hair was sticking up in the back from where Arthur had grabbed it.
"We have to do something about it," said Arthur, leaning across the table to smooth the offending hair back into place. "I made a list."
Eames caught the wrist of the hand that had stopped smoothing his hair and had started running the strands between his fingers, somewhat along the lines of petting. "Arthur," he warned.
Arthur withdrew his hand and cleared his throat. "I made a list," he repeated.
Eames read it through quickly when Arthur handed it to him.
Detriments Resulting from Nearly Constant Sex:
1. Arguments that could benefit the work at hand are disregarded instead of solved.
2. Useful routines are ignored.
3. Eventually, the team will notice and then conversation will be awkward.
4. I don't even like you.
"When you put it like that..." Eames said. "Though I'm concerned by the order of your list. Not liking me is not the first reason you thought of to stop having sex with me?"
"No," said Arthur and refused to elaborate. Eames raised an eyebrow.
"So we're going to go...what's the Yank phrase? 'Cold turkey'?" Eames asked, carefully folding the list and pushing it back towards Arthur.
"Yes."
"Starting...?"
Their eyes met.
"Oh, fine," Arthur said. "But in my apartment. That bathroom was disgusting."
They started to Sexless Experiment the next morning. Afternoon. Brunch-time...or thereabouts.
Arthur booked a flight to Paris. It would be easier if he and Eames weren't on the same continent, after all. He could see Ariadne, maybe drop in on Miles. It would be relaxing and productive.
He had lunch with Ariadne a couple days after he arrived. She chatted about her last few classes and how Miles was bending the system for her so that she was doing an independent study according to her transcript but was really jet-setting around the world with Dom. Arthur tried to stay interested but he found that his leg was twitching rhythmically in a nervous tic. It had been doing it for at least 24 hours.
"You have somewhere to be?" Ariadne asked, obviously a bit annoyed.
"No," Arthur said, frowning. "Why do you ask?"
"You keep looking at your watch. And you're obviously bored."
Arthur's frown deepened. "It's not you--" he started to say but clamped his mouth shut. It would be absurd for #3 to happen when they weren't having sex. "I have...things on my mind," he said, settling awkwardly into the words.
She rolled her eyes. "You're already planning the Morocco job, aren't you? Jesus, Arthur, Cobb only just decided to take it yesterday."
Arthur frowned. He didn't know about any Morocco job. He ran through the past two days in his mind, trying to figure out where he could have missed some sort of notice from Cobb that they were going to start a new job.
Then his hand flew to his pocket, the one that his cell phone usually was in. Sure enough, it was missing. He had a vague memory of spending an hour that morning scrolling through his contacts (always landing on "Eames") and then throwing it across the room in a huff of frustration.
The phone was waiting for him later that day, the one missed call from Dom blinking on the screen.
There went #2 as well.
When Arthur found himself biting his tongue rather than pointing out that Eames had no experience forging children and, thus, it was a stupid plan because of the way Eames had left the top button of his shirt un-done, he re-evaluated the list.
The first three were all a bust despite the Sexless Experiment. The fourth, which Arthur had to admit was somewhere between an utter falsehood and a white lie, could do what it pleased.
He'd have to find a way to end the Sexless Experiment post haste before anything else went wrong. Obviously, he had to seduce Eames.
That was the difficulty, he realized. It wasn't that he was a novice at seduction--no, really, he wasn't--it was just that it had never made sense between Eames and him to begin with. He didn't know why he himself was attracted to Eames, let alone why Eames wanted him. So replicating the series of events that initiated the passionate and lengthy bouts of sex was nearly an impossibility.
Arthur realized that Eames had stopped speaking and was looking at him. Everyone was looking at him.
"Sorry--what?" he said, shaking his head.
Maybe it was the suits. Arthur was aware that he had fantastic suits. He had one he'd never worn at work before, a suit specially crafted by a wizened old retired tailor in an obscure alley in Bristol who had once kept Cary Grant waiting in the street for three hours before he deigned to see him. Arthur could be very convincing and the man had given him the suit free of charge. Arthur never wore it to work because, obviously, it might wrinkle. Or get blood stains.
He wore that one. And he met Eames's eyes at one point, when the light was slanting through the giant paneled windows, and loosened his tie.
Eames licked his lips.
Touche, thought Arthur.
On the job--in the mark's dream--Eames started eating a banana. In a way that was, to put it mildly, highly suggestive.
"Jesus Christ," Ariadne breathed, standing beside Arthur. Arthur agreed wholeheartedly.
Eames smirked.
Arthur only had to un-do his cufflinks and roll up his sleeves later, when they were back in the real world, before Eames was hastily excusing himself.
The absurd game of Sex Chicken they had going on last for three weeks. The job was long since over but they didn't let that stop them. Arthur followed Eames back to visit his family in Norwich (he'd had to do some quick thinking to come up with an explanation that wasn't "I want to get you to want to have sex with me so I can hold it against you later that you folded first") and they just kept upping the ante.
Then Eames followed Arthur when Arthur had to leave for a job back in Paris but the game continued and the sex still didn't returned. Arthur's right hand had never had such a busy month.
Eames popped up all over Paris. Arthur would be tailing the mark through the tourist attractions of Paris and Eames would suddenly appear at his elbow eating a crepe, ready to offer a second to Arthur. Arthur wouldn't accept but he'd have to listen, legs crossed, while Eames licked the cream off his fingers. Or Arthur would be having a drink after a hard day's work and Eames's hand would be on his hip before he could even register the man was in the room.
And then there was, in a move that could just as easily have been a stroke of brilliance as the stupidest blunder, the time Eames showed up far drunker than drunk on Arthur's doorstep.
He was lying across Arthur's stoop and singing Edith Piaf quietly when Arthur got home. Arthur had to take a moment to appreciate the way French sounded in Eames's mouth...and then he had to take a moment to wrench his brain back into the present.
"You're on my stoop," Arthur pointed out.
"Made a list," Eames said, not opening his eyes. He held a napkin up towards Arthur.
1. Sex is your friend.
2. Good exercise.
3. I am a stunning conversationalist.
4.
The last one was barely legible, having been crossed out hard enough to rip through the napkin.
"Yeah, alright," Arthur said, poking Eames with the toe of his shoe. "Come on in."
Arthur decided to count the Sexless Experiment as a failure.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-09-13 12:36 am (UTC)<3
no subject
Date: 2010-09-17 12:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-13 05:43 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-17 12:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-15 09:16 pm (UTC)CAN I JUST SAY HOW MUCH I LOVE YOUR CRACK. (Oh god, that sounds horrible, but you know what I mean...)
no subject
Date: 2010-09-17 12:08 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-10-24 05:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-11-06 11:26 pm (UTC)Eames' list at the end cracked me up xD