Hello all! This is the first installation of my newest project, Quest for Quotes. I've decided that, when I have free time, I will use donated favorite quotes as writing prompts, to boost my creativity. This quote is from disquisitemind, over at LJ.
I will also be posting the Zombie fic, soon, as well, because I've decided I'm way too impatient to wait for a beta to finish reading all 140 pages of it. So, look forward to that, too, okay? :) And now, onward!
1: It Makes A Slight Whizzing Sound As It Flies Directly Over Arthur's Head
-o-
It pays to be obvious, especially if you have a reputation for subtlety. -Isaac Asimov
-o-
The flowers on Arthur's desk are his favorites—forget-me-nots and white daisies—laid out in a flattering, understated way beside his laptop. Arthur is sure that they weren't there three minutes ago, when he left to brief Dom on the latest stumbling block in the plan.
And yet, here they are.
He glances around, eyes slipping over Ariadne (buried in her mazes), Yusuf (far too focused on his chemicals to even be considered), and Eames (chair tilted slightly back, head cocked, reading glasses perched at the end of his nose while he skims through the brief on the mark's girlfriend, mouth moving along with the words in an entirely too distracting—)
Flushing, Arthur moves the flowers over a little and decides it's a wonderful time to stop looking at Eames, managing to miss the few forget-me-nots tucked so delicately into the buttonhole of the Forger's suit.
-o-
"You look simply marvelous, Arthur," Eames says, handing him a glass of wine as they wait for Cobb to finish telling their finds to the client. "That's a nice tie."
Arthur half-smiles, accepting the drink graciously with a nod. "Thank you."
"For the compliment, or the wine?"
"The wine, of course. I look awful today." Arthur smoothes one hand over his tie and takes a sip of the Chardonnay that Ariadne had brought to celebrate the success. She had since disappeared; off somewhere with Yusuf, doing something that Arthur didn't really want to contemplate.
Arthur tries not to fidget when Eames's obviously-assessing eye drags up and down his body; over his shoes, the clean line of his slacks, his neat, white button-down…finally, they stop at the tie.
"You never look bad, Arthur," Eames says, smiling, but Arthur is shaking his head and pulling at the four-in-hand, dissatisfied.
"Thursday's gunfight ruined my Charvet," he responds, sounding just put-out enough to make Eames smile.
Next week, there is a new navy and pink floral Charvet tie in Arthur's briefcase, innocently sitting on top of the papers Arthur had just packed last night. He's not sure how it got there.
-o-
The steaming cup is placed into his hands, and he blinks blearily at it, trying to identify it. The beverage smells familiar, and looks familiar, but Arthur has been awake for forty-one hours, and he's pretty sure that by now, the bust of David would look like the little yappy dog his mother used to have.
He makes a kind of unintelligible noise that was supposed to be something like, "What?" but comes out sounding a bit more like, "Nnngg."
"Oh, darling," he hears someone sigh, and the only people who call him darling are Eames and his grandmother. Memé died years ago, so the identity of Arthur's mysterious drink supplier is pretty definite.
"…mes?" he mutters, trying to focus his eyes on the man in front of him. He shakes his head, trying to clear it, and then looks up again. "What're you doing here?"
"Someone's got to keep an eye on you, Arthur. Look at what you get up to when I'm not around."
Arthur glances at his laptop screen and squints through his headache to read the words he'd typed:
Je présente Dom à la vache, pourtant il n'aime pas le squash elle a apporté.
He blinks, and then frowns, and then reads it again.
"Correct me if I'm wrong, Arthur," Eames begins, "but I think that's about Cobb meeting a cow and not liking squash. What, exactly does that have to do with your job?"
"Everything," Arthur answers assuredly, because surely, he wouldn't have written it if it was unrelated. "Obviously the cow is…"
"If you say the mark, I'm warning you, I will start laughing uncontrollably," Eames says, already curling one hand under Arthur's elbow to pull him up from the chair. "Now, why don't you just go home and take a little kip, and come back in when you feel better?"
"I don't want to drive," Arthur mutters, ever practical, "and I'm not going to take a taxi."
"Then let someone drive you."
"Who?" Arthur questions, shrugging on his jacket after putting the wrong arm in the wrong sleeve far too many times. He practically sways on his feet, and then distractedly takes a sip of the now-cool drink Eames had given him before. It's tea.
"Someone who cares about you, obviously, and doesn't want you to wrap your car around a tree," Eames says, rolling his eyes and placing a steadying hand on Arthur's lower back. "Really, sometimes you're so dull."
Arthur glares at him, but the effect is ruined by the fact that his eyes won't seem to stop closing.
"Ariadne's gone home," the point man huffs, "and I don't want to bother Dom."
Eames's smile tinges sad, and he gently rubs the small of Arthur's back. "Well, I guess you're just going to have to settle for me, hmm?"
-o-
Finally, finally he is sick of it. He has tried everything, from flowers to candy to compliments, but nothing has gotten through. Nothing. Surely he hasn't been that far off the mark with all of the things he's done?
Eames watches Arthur from across the room, watches him gesticulate wildly at Cobb about just how bad an idea this or that is, or lean in to look at Ariadne's latest architectural marvel, or question Yusuf about the particular properties or some compound or other. And he wonders how someone so adept at seeing what's going on in other people's lives can't see what's right in front of his nose.
So, to hell with subtlety.
"Arthur," he says, standing up rather suddenly. Arthur looks over from where he is shuffling his papers into a semi-manageable pile, shoes tapping on the concrete as he shifts and straightens.
"Yes, Eames, what—" His question trails off into a kind of surprised "Mmf?" as Eames grabs his shoulders and smashes their mouths together. For an instant, all Arthur does is stand there, shocked, hands twitching kind of nervously at his sides like he doesn't know what to do with them.
Because…he really doesn't.
Finally, they settle on Eames's waist, and his mouth begins to move against the Forger's. Things get better: he relaxes, he tips his head to give Eames a better angle, he makes an almost imperceptible encouraging sound in the back of his throat…and when they separate, Cobb is staring, open-mouthed, and Ariadne and Yusuf are clapping.
"Well?" Eames asks when Ariadne has stopped cheering and Yusuf's wolf whistles have died down.
"Well?" Arthur parrots. "Well, a little warning might have been nice. You can't just go around randomly kissing people without declaring your intentions at least a week beforehand."
Eames blinks, completely thrown.
"Oh, darling," he groans in frustration, and then pulls him in for another kiss by his navy and pink Charvet tie.
There you have it! If you'd like to help with the Quest for Quotes, I welcome you to do so. Please send them to me in PMs or replies, or look me up on LJ as kittie_gurl57 and drop me a line over there. :)
Thanks so much for reading, and please review!