Title: And There's Verse and Chapter Sat In Her Inbox

Warnings: None really :)

Pairing: Ariadne/Eames

Disclaimer: I don't own Inception

Notes: Look at that I can write non-slash for Inception, wehey. This is for a fic-off between myself and FreekyDisaster18 which had a group of objects on a table.

P.S Let's see if you can tell me what the song is in the title and who it's by. Without looking it up.

Scene 1: Blackberry

Eames came through the balcony doors of his hotel suite when he heard a crash. Well, crash was exaggerating, it was a thud. Ariadne was hobbling on the carpet, one leg in her jeans, the other sliding slowly in. It was obviously harder to put on the pair of Banana Republic jeans than it looked, because Ariadne had toppled and come into contact with the hotel wardrobe.

'You do make a lot of noise for a small one' Eames teased and Ariadne scowled in his direction, now tucking in her blouse to her pulled up jeans.

'You weren't complaining last night' she smirked and Eames chuckled, remembering the night before. He began playing with his phone and then typed a quick message, Ariadne conveniently ignoring him. It wasn't until the two heard a buzz of vibration and a tinkle sound that Ariadne froze. Eames looked as innocent as he possibly could. She reached into the back pocket of her jeans with a huff and stopped.

'It's stuck'

'What?' Eames asked incredulously.

'My blackberry is stuck in my jeans' Ariadne answered as if talking to someone mentally challenged.

'Is it now?' Eames tried to resist grinning as Ariadne blushed. It was quite intriguing that she didn't blush the night before when he crowded her frame on the bed and got her off the first time just by whispering in her ear, but she did in the morning after as her phone was evidently not moving from her jeans.

'Yes Eames. That's your cue to come over here and help'

'You're just using this as an excuse for me to put my hands on you' Eames said, getting up anyway. The buzzing happened once again and Eames bit his lip to stop the snigger, she had put the repeat setting on.

'I don't have to ask for that Eames'

''Suppose not, no' and he stood in front of her, his hands circling her waist. Her own spider like hands rested on his belt, and she pressed forward. One of her hands came up to trace his tattoos, now on show due to him only wearing a white wife-beater with his slacks.

'As much as this is very Streetcar Named Desire, you are not helping with what you asked' Eames commented.

'Hmm?' the muffled reply and Eames noted that it was times like this when he realised he was so much bigger in bulk than Ariadne.

Ariadne's new set of jeans were pretty much the only ones that hugged her lovely legs, and of course her arse, which meant her habit of slipping her phone into her back pocket wouldn't be as easy. Not that Eames cared if he got to help. She shifted against him as his hand slid inside the back pocket.

'What am I doing again?' he asked in jest and she pinched his arm.

'My phone, please' and he got hold of the casing of the phone and it was actually quite a tight fit. He got it, and held it out to her. She smiled up at him, her fingers flicking the belt buckle on his slacks, the other hand taking the phone from him. Not that she moved anywhere; she just averted her attention to look at the text. Eames kept his hands locked at the base of her back.

Eames watched as her eyes widened, and then she stuck her tongue out at him.

'Crazy little woman in a one man show. Mirror queen, mannequin, rhythm of love' Ariadne read and Eames waited while she figured out the lyrics.

'Pour Some Sugar On Me, Def Leppard. They were playing that last night in the bar' she stated and Eames patted her backside with a grin.

'Yup, by the way Cobb'll text you in a minute just so you know'

Eames placed a kiss on the side of her mouth and her wandered to the bathroom. It was a moment before he heard the déjà vu of buzzing sound. He chuckled to himself when Ariadne let out an exasperated huff.

Scene 2: Ring

'Explain to me what this is again?' Ariadne asked twirling the object in her palm and inspecting it every now and then.

'That there is a forgery of a rather expensive cut ring' Eames replied honestly, still pacing about the room.

'Well I can see that, I mean why do you have a forgery of a ring designed by one of the experts at Tiffany's?' Ariadne asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

'You look like Arthur when you do that, don't do it'

'I'm sure Arthur would be asking the exact same questions, as I am, Eames. Whose is it?' and Eames rolled his eyes to the ceiling and they landed on the architect who just sat with her legs crossed, eyebrows now knitted together. Eames could almost visualise the scene by scene of the reasons why Eames had a ring play in her head.

'No I didn't steal it, no I didn't do the forgery – I'm not that good sweetheart – and no I did not buy the damned thing' Eames picked up his glass of lemon and ice and took a sip. This situation was getting increasingly annoying by the second. Ariadne hitched a one sided grin at him, meaning he had pretty much answered all her suggestions with out her vocalising any.

'Cobb might not be able to read you, but I sure as hell can. Do you really want to know?' Eames asked nodding to the ring now placed on the shined wooden coffee table.

'Yes, I'm curious' and Eames walked to her, handing her the glass of lemon and ice.

'My idiot of an old school friend – Colin - is getting married. But the prat went and consequently lost the ring didn't he?' Eames glared at the object as if it personally offended him.

'Right, so what are you doing with that?' Ariadne asked confusion clear on her features.

'He flew to London to try and get it replaced, but he couldn't get one for funds and time issues, so I gave him the contacts for a forger in Notting Hill' Eames grumbled, not happy with the order of things. He perched on the arm of the seat Ariadne was sat on. 'So he got it done, however his best man – who he was meant to give the ring to in the first place – wasn't available. I thought he had been jailed for assault, but that's another story. So, I was the one he turned to'

Eames hopped off the chair, and went over to his suitcase and picked out the red ring box. He crossed back to the table once again and put the ring safely its personal taxi, to which it will travel in to the wedding.

'You could base a film on that, you should play the dramatic lead' Ariadne giggled.

'Most definitely, you know who I would pick to play Colin?' he asked.

'No, indulge me?'

'Hugh Grant'

'Oh no, Eames' Ariadne began to shake with laughter, covering her face with her hands.

'Perfectly suitable role, you'll that find out soon' and her laughter died, and she frowned at him. 'He's coming here to pick up that ring. If you could give him punch or two I would be much obliged' Eames muttered darkly. Ariadne shook her head at him, auburn curls shaking, and an amused smile on her face. The afternoon sun gleamed in through the windows, and Ariadne tapped her hand on the side of the chair.

The idiot turned up not long after their conversation, and Eames reminded him that he now owed Eames a lot. Colin had apologised and thanked a good twenty times before his public school accent, and Dunhill attire, disappeared down the hall with the little red box, and Eames shut the door.

'Your right, Hugh Grant would suit him perfectly. Let me know if your film ever hits production won't you?' Ariadne smirked, sitting on the window ledge. Eames bought her lunch in the Parisian style café opposite their hotel.

Scene 3: Coffee

On the flight to Mombasa Eames and Ariadne had spent the first four hours asleep. The next two had Ariadne with her iPod in her ears and reading Eames' copy of Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy with her bottom lip caught under her teeth. She had wanted to read it, and Eames found his copy in his London flat giving it to her when they met.

'You know, Arthur reminds me of Guillam' Eames had stated, and Ariadne kept reading. He knew when she had found Peter Guillam because she smirked. The flight was sixteen hours and Yusuf was going to get hell when Eames arrived. When the forger woke up he got up to use the restroom, leaned to read over Ariadne's shoulder. She jumped a little and smiled at him.

An hour later motioned to an air steward and ordered what would be his fourth coffee of the day. But Ariadne dismissed Eames' order and replaced it with two a cups of tea with two sugars. The steward flashed a smile and left to organise their orders.

'In my head I ordered an Americano coffee blend, but somehow I've got a cup of tea'

'You're English, don't complain'

'That's irrelevant to this discussion. I need a coffee Ariadne' Eames was well aware that he sounded whiny, but his hand was beginning to twitch. His body already knew he wouldn't be getting a cup of coffee, and it was panicking.

'No you don't. You've already had four, and don't tell me you haven't Eames, I can tell' and Eames set his mouth into a hard line. 'I could taste it in your mouth at the gate' the corner of Ariadne's mouth hitched.

'That doesn't matter'

'Yes it does' Ariadne snapped, and Eames backed off a little. He knew perfectly well that Ariadne was not to be tested like this, having watched her slap Arthur. That's another story. 'You keep doing that your body's not going to be able to keep up with you. And I like your body just how it is' Ariadne said the last bit in to the copy of Le Carre hiding her face more. Eames resisted the urge to reply with something dirty, he just grinned at her.

'Your concern is touching but compared to what we do, caffeine related illnesses is the last thing bugging me' and he hooked his foot around her ankle.

'Well, whatever. How long have we got left?' she asked, putting the book down after bookmarking a page.

'Nine hours'

'Next time we have to do this, I'm sending Arthur'

'As a replacement? Darling, you can't do that to me'

'No, he can go on his own' Ariadne said past gritted teeth.

'I'm sure he can do that. That's a point, heard anything from Bonnie and Clyde?' and Ariadne's blank expression split into a smirk.

'Cobb and Arthur are fine as far as I know. Did you nickname them that?'

'Sadly no, someone in in the field did. I wonder which one's which?' Eames pondered, just as the steward placed their tea, and a pot, with a selection of biscuits on the table.

'Cobb's Bonnie, Arthur's Clyde' Ariadne said simply, taking a biscuit and taking bite out of it.

'That fits. Oh at Christmas, remind me to put that in the card' Eames said picking up the cup of tea he wished was coffee, and blowing over the top.

'They'll hurt you' and he saw a glint in her eye, playful, and sly, what he really liked about the girl.

'And live up to the nickname? They wouldn't dare. Cobb might slug me though' he added after reassuring Ariadne.

'Do we have a nickname?' Ariadne asked, cupping her tea in her hands and watching Eames over the rim of the cup.

'I don't believe so' he replied, shaking his head.

'We should think of one' Ariadne said before sipping her tea. 'Partners in Tea' and Eames stared at her for a moment before laughing.

'Whatever you say Ariadne' he said, peering out of the plane window next to him. 'I still prefer my coffee' and he received a kick on the foot.

Scene 4: Cologne

If she was honest, there were better ways of letting the colleagues you worked with on the inception of Robert Fischer, that you are 'dating' the criminal underworld's most brilliant forger.

Did she miss him when he wasn't around? Yes. Did she think about him when she probably shouldn't? Yes. But oh dear, she wasn't clingy or anything. Ariadne found it harder not to smile every time a random text came through from Eames half way around the world on a job, while she was in a seminar.

She stood at the sink in her student apartment bathroom, The Smiths playing from her speakers in the other room. She danced around in a pair of shorts and an old t-shirt, brushing her teeth to the sound of the beat of the song. It was on the last note of Boys Don't Cry when she noticed a bottle on the sink that she was certain wasn't hers. She rinsed her mouth and put her toothbrush in the pot. She picked the bottle up, the cold metal – aluminium? – bottle had liquid in it, she could tell by the balance of it.

She unscrewed the top, sprayed the nozzle and sniffed the air. A strong scent of men's cologne hit her like a wave. Some of her male friends had been in her apartment and left stuff in her bathroom instead of taking it with them, but she hadn't seen the silver bottle before. There was something familiar about the smell, and Ariadne closed her eyes, swaying a little on her feet. Her eyes snapped open when she realised why she knew it and then, of course, what it was. It was from Eames. The strong, heady, but with what could be a hint of mint scent gave her thoughts of Eames' braced above her, her nails scratching marks down his torso. Ariadne bit her lip, looking up at her reflection in the mirror.

She closed her eyes and sprayed some of the cologne on her pyjama t-shirt, placing the bottle back on the sink. It was a comfort thing, and it smelled nicer than the strange launderette-clean smell her sheets reek of.

Did Ariadne like the smell and spray a little on her cardigan so she caught the scent in the wind? Yes. But she hadn't heard from him in a while.

When Cobb called up to see if Ariadne could help on a small job, and to have a get together at his house, Ariadne jumped at the chance. She turned up at the home on the day and when Ariadne did a mid-pirouette to take her coffee from Cobb, he froze and appeared to have an inner thought process. As she brought the coffee to her lips, she could smell Eames' cologne on her sleeve.

'What's wrong?' and he shook his head, as if correcting himself. Ariadne watched him. He can't have noticed, could he?

'Heard from Eames?' Arthur asked and Ariadne nodded.

'Yeah, we did a job in Hawaii last month when I was on a break' and Arthur smiled as if he knew. Hawaii had been fun, even though they were working. Ariadne had fallen asleep to the sound of Eames reading Shelley from memory and the waves of the ocean.

Eames turned up later on, and Ariadne smiled at him from the seat next to Arthur.

'Hello boys, why do you need me? Or did you miss the professionalism?' he asked with a smirk. Cobb clapped him on the shoulder, ignoring the question, but asking him about someone in Madrid. It wasn't until they were sat round the table, and Eames leaned near Ariadne having dropped his phone, that Eames commented.

'That's really funny, because I can smell my cologne that you bought for my thirtieth Cobb. I'm not wearing any' and Ariadne gritted her teeth and looked at Eames. His eyes searched her face, and she could feel two more sets of eyes settle on her. The heat started to creep up her neck.

'You haven't?' Eames asked teasingly and Ariadne looked at Arthur and Cobb whose reactions were funny. Cobb's eyes went wide as he looked between the two, and Arthur began to chuckle.

'I was right. I told you' Arthur directed it at Cobb who shrugged.

'I knew, I recognised it' Cobb smirked 'So, are you two?...' he trailed off with a wave of his hand.

'Official? No' they said at the same time and then grinned.

'Well, cheers anyway' Arthur lifted his glass of white wine and they clinked glasses.

Scene 5: Army issue Beretta

Eames was a dangerous man, and Ariadne was perfectly aware of that fact. He told her stories of jobs gone badly, and jobs gone terribly. So a job, first asked for through Saito of all people for a CEO, looked nastier the deeper they digged. Ariadne spent the time at Eames' place in Mombasa, and they worked out a plan. They only needed to go one level or perhaps two, and get information on plans for globalisation of the firm which only two partners – apparently - were coercing on. Of course this meant they would have to get names, and data from inside the mark's head. It looked stupidly simple, but what it became was anything but.

'I'm going to forge the mark's wife, you're taking the lead'

'I know. Do you think I won't be able to handle it?'

'No, it's not you I'm worried about. Cobb told me about how you found out about Mal' Ariadne deadpanned him.

'That's not the same; he's someone I was meant to trust and work with. The mark is another type altogether. If I ever get a mark who reminds me of Dominic Cobb -'

'God help him' they said in unison and Ariadne rolled her eyes.

Saito had rung up to check if they needed anything, and he bought them security at check points on the train across Europe.

The mark was more stubborn than they anticipated, but this didn't deter the pair. Ariadne had Eames' Army issue Beretta in her hand.

Things had taken a turn, and acting on impulse Ariadne had ordered the projections to grab the mark's wife – which of course was Eames – and tape her to the chair. The mark had shouted, kicked and screamed, but Ariadne told him to shut up. The wife – as Eames and Ariadne had found out – was a calm and cunning woman, much like a Lady Macbeth before her fall. Eames' portrayal of her was perfect, and Ariadne's eyes met clear green ones that told her to do her worst.

'What are you doing?' the mark yelled in panic and the projections held him back by his arms.

'Tell me what I need, or I'll kill her' and Ariadne cringed, but she clicked off the safety and aimed the gun at Eames' head. Of course, the mark saw his wife with a gun to her head and struggled.

'You can't do that'

'Oh, really? I want names. If you give them to me, I won't lay a hand on her' Ariadne growled, watching the mark's face for emotion. All she saw was fear, panic, guilt and betrayal.

'I can't'

Ariadne hummed at the response, turning back to Eames, she tried to warn him with her eyes. Bringing the gun across her chest to shoulder height, she angled it, and brought it down across the mark's wife's face. There was crack of a jaw slipping where Eames had clenched it tight. Ariadne breathed normally, and Eames' sneered at her in the wife's forge, something that looked horrible on the woman. Blood trickled out of the corner of the wife's mouth, and Ariadne smirked. The mark was now sobbing.

'I'm only just beginning. Talk and she'll be as gorgeous as when I found her' Ariadne mocked. Jutting the nuzzle of the gun against the wife's head, the wife shifted away slightly. Ariadne wondered how they were going to talk about this when they woke up.

Ariadne aimed the gun next to the wife's feet and fired a shot. That caused a bit of noise, not only from the bullet, but the mark and the wife.

'Next time I won't miss her foot' Ariadne threatened, her voice echoing around the warehouse.

'Okay, okay… alright… sweetheart... I'm sorry'

It all came out, all the names, all the dates, and the transactions of bribes. When they gave the information to the CEO he was grateful, but Ariadne saw the anger build inside him.

'Jesus Christ, girl' Eames said from the bathroom of their hotel suite. Ariadne could see him from the bed. He was patting his jaw tenderly, and wincing at the pain. Phantom pain.

'Sorry'

Scene 6: Sunglasses

'No way, nu huh, not happening Eames' Ariadne crossed her arms over her dress. 'For the record, you look ridiculous'

The man before her stood in a Dolce & Gabana white tux suit jacket with a black braid around the edges, a white shirt, black silk tie, and black pants, and brogues. He also had a pair of 1950s style sunglasses to match. He didn't look ridiculous, he looked mouth-watering, but Ariadne wasn't going to let him know that. Eames' flashed a charming smile.

They were staying at The Ritz Hotel in London, after Ariadne saying her mom had been to Claridges. 'I'm not a debutant, and I refuse to dance' she said, very aware that she was dressed like a 1960's student. They had crossed timelines somehow, it was quite surreal.

'Not even with me?' Eames took off the sunglasses and put them in his jacket pocket.

'Eames, I'm really not that sort of woman. At all'

'If I say, that we'll spend an hour or so downstairs, have some dinner, and then have a stroll around Green Park, does that sound more enticing?' Ariadne smirked; he knew her too well.

'Deal'

'I'm going to go and get us a table, see you in bit' Eames headed to the door. She called a 'see you later', and picked out a dress that she hadn't worn, but had really wanted to. She got ready, and was slipping on her heels when Eames came back. He stopped and blinked a few times.

'Hello, who are you and what have you done with my architect?' he asked and she narrowed her eyes at him. 'I'm joking. You look stunning. When did you get that dress, I haven't seen it?' Eames sat on the edge of the double bed.

The dress in question was a dark green pencil dress, with a bow like structure over the chest area, with no sleeves. She was lucky she was tiny; you had to be skinny to wear dresses like these.

'Arthur bought it for me from Milan'

'I'll have to thank him when I next see him' Eames said, his eyes wandering.

They went down to the main dining hall, which had been altered so the tables were placed around the edge, leaving a space in the middle for the dancers. Everyone was dressed differently, but everyone seemed to mingle nicely. The band in the corner was already playing, a smooth saxophone blared.

It's Is A Man's World by Etta James began to play. Eames asked her to dance, and she paused in a few beats of the drum. But she smiled, and nodded. He held her hand, and led her to the floor. When they found a spot, she naturally settled one hand on his upper arm, feeling the fabric of his jacket, the other hand in his. Mentally, she thanked dance classes at school, for teaching her how to 'ballroom dance'. They danced to the rhythm of the song, and for someone quite bulky – not like Arthur's slender physique – Eames's was a very good dancer. She theorised that he danced like he acted, which was smooth and unflappable. He twirled her around, and she spun slowly on her heels. He smirked when they looked at each other.

The song changed and some people left the floor, others joining. The notes were familiar to Ariadne but she couldn't remember why. It was only when the lyrics were sung, that Ariadne chuckled. Dream A Little Dream of Me. Eames began to laugh lowly, so it was a rumble in his throat. To anyone who noticed, they looked like lovers sharing an intimate joke. But it was more of the irony of the song for them, as dream workers. He leaned down and kissed her on the lips.

They danced some more, had dinner and left the hotel, walking past people in the evening sun. In Green Park they sat on one of the benches.

'But in your dreams whatever they be, dream a little dream of me' Ariadne sang softly, and she stopped with a sigh. She closed her eyes and started to laugh. She was happy, and Eames joined in her laughter.

Review if you like it :)