Disclaimer: I do not, in fact, own Inception. That's all Nolan.

And in my first story "As Soon As Its Over" I mentioned that Arthur had regularly given Ariadne rides home while working late nights on the Fischer job. The first night was covered in that story (I hope you read it ). So I thought it would be fun – or something to do at least – to write a series of stories about the rides home and how they got to know each other. Enjoy – and please please pretty please read and review. Thanks much!

The warehouse was dark. The lights had been turned off. The building was empty - for the most part. A lone man sat at a metal desk, bright light from the screen in front of him illuminating his angled face. On quite the opposite side of the warehouse stood a petite architect; measuring and taping and tearing down paper models.

Arthur looked at his watch – it was much later than he had suspected. Closing his laptop on the page of Peter Browning he had been looking at, Arthur stood from his desk, grabbed his suit jacket from the back of his chair and packed up his research from the day. It was time to go home – or back to his leased apartment anyway. Not necessarily a home, but a place to go to at the end of the day and lay down for a few hours.

As he walked toward the door he allowed his hopes to rise a bit. Maybe she would still be here. Maybe he would look around the concrete pillar and find her hunched over her desk, same as always, building skyscrapers and adjusting roads. This fleeting moment of hope was the best part of his night. And on the nights he did find her there, well, those easily ranked in his greatest moments of the job.

He reached the door and, casually as he could, looked over to Ariadne's work space. A light was still on and he couldn't suppress a small smile. She was here. Working – at two thirty in the morning none the less. If he had been responsible – less selfish – he would have insisted she stopped these late nights and focused a little more on her school work. But he just couldn't bring himself to do it. Maybe it was a little selfish of him, but he just refused to let go of their nights together.

Still fighting a smile, Arthur strolled across the room, toward the girl now twirling a ruler between her fingers. As he approached, his footsteps made minute "clicks" on the cement floor and Ariadne turned around, already knowing who she would meet. And she, too, suppressed a smile.

"Care for a lift, miss?" Arthur inclined his head, a slightly silly smile on his lips and a joking twinkle in his eye. Ariadne let out an exhausted laugh and set her ruler down.

"If it's no trouble," she said, as she always did.

And, as always, Arthur responded, "You're right on the way."

OOOooooOOOoooOO

"It was just so humiliating, Arthur, right there in front of everyone," sighed Ariadne, exasperated and upset but too tired to get very worked up, "I mean, I know I haven't been at this as long as everyone else, but I do know architecture."

Arthur let out a slow breath. Careful to keep his driving steady and eyes forward. "I'm sorry Ariadne," he finally responded, "I know you know what you are doing when it comes to the real world, but you have to understand that dreaming is like being in a whole different world. The same rules don't always apply."

"I understand that and I'm learning – but was it really necessary to call me out like that at the meeting? In front of Saito and everyone? What if he decides I'm not right for the job after he sees all these glaring mistakes I have made?"

Arthur glanced at Ariadne from behind the wheel. She was sitting pin straight, her back barely touching the leather seat. Staring straight ahead, headlights of passing cars flashing across her troubled face. She looked so small and his chest tightened at the sight of her.

His voice came softer now, "Listen to me: There is no doubt in anybody's mind that you are the architect for the job. Cobb himself said he has never seen anyone catch on so fast."

"Well apparently not fast enough," spat Ariadne, still staring rigidly out the window, "if you feel the need to tear out an entire section of a city I spent two weeks building, I mean, I…"

"It was an unnecessary chunk," Arthur interrupts, "You already had more than enough city to keep us and Fischer's projections twisting and turning for a week. You don't want to have too much wasted space in a dream - it will drain the dreamer."

Ariadne let out a sharp sigh, turned to look at Arthurs profile, "And you couldn't have told me that in private?"

"I'm sorry. I should have," Arthur dared a second look at her out of the corner of his eye, "I wish I had."

She was looking at him and caught his eye as he snuck a peek; He was sorry. She could see it in his brown eyes. She wanted to say something, a word of forgiveness or reconciliation. But her voice caught in her throat as he held her gaze. Her face cradled in his tender chocolate eyes. A warm moment passed before he had to turn has attention back to the road. But Ariadne could not be drawn away so easily. It was several moments before she had sense enough to look anywhere else and several more moments before she had breath enough to say, "I'm sorry, too Arthur."

"Sorry?" his eyebrows raised, voice softer than ever, "sorry for what?"

"I'm just tired," said Ariadne, "I know you were trying to help – "

"But I should have handled it differently – "

"It's alright," she said, and her hand moved instinctively for his, but she stopped herself midway, "really…I've had worse, actually."

Arthur turned to her again, "What do you mean?"

Ariadne immediately regretted saying anything. She had just been trying to lighten the situation – make him stop feeling bad for his slip. She supposed she would have to explain. Oh joy.

"I've just - I've worked with some guys who haven't been very…gratuitous. In school, mostly, I mean, this is my first real job as an architect. But," she looked to Arthur, who had been keeping one eye on her, one on the road, "I have to say you – I mean, all you guys – have been the best. Never tried to undermine me in any given situation. You've all been respectful and helpful with the work we've been doing…It's just been nice. I can't really complain for one embarrassing moment."

As she spoke, the car had pulled up beside her apartment complex and Arthur had shifted into park. He turned his body completely to face Ariadne. She blushed in the darkness as she felt him staring intently at her.

"I guess I'm just apologizing for losing my temper with you just now," she finished hurriedly, not looking at him anymore, eager to get out of the car. Her breathes were coming up short and she couldn't figure out why.

"It's alright," she heard him breathe deeply, "and I promise if I ever want to talk to you, I will find a time to do it in private."

The space in the car was suddenly feeling quite small. The air was not tight or suffocating, but both were having difficulty drawing normal breaths.

Finally, Ariadne spoke, "that sounds good," she turned to look out her window, toward her apartment. "I should get going – I mean, it's pretty late…"

"Yeah," Arthur pounced on her words, "yeah, you should."

Ariadne opened the door and began to climb out but something warm snaked around her wrist. She turned to look and found Arthur holding her hand, looking up at her.

"Ariadne," he spoke, "Listen, if you ever need anything – have a question, or need to talk, just, about anything – feel free to come to me, ok?"

She stared at his face – so sincere, so kind, so handsome. She felt a warmness in her belly and another that flooded her face. He was reaching out to her. Trying to help her. For the good of the mission, she was sure, but still. He cared. And he was holding her hand.

Ariadne nodded, "alright."

The corners of Arthur's mouth turned up slightly as he nodded and dropped her hand, "Goodnight Ariadne."

"Goodnight Arthur," Ariadne smiled at him, looking up as she grabbed her bag from the floor of the car. She held his eyes and his smile for a precious moment or two – it wasn't often that he smiled. Finally, she broke their contact, shut the door and made her way back to her apartment. A grin still playing on her lips.

And as Arthur drove away, his mind was not mulling over information on Peter Browning or Robert Fischer, but was flooded with images of smiling Ariande – smiling at him. And as he thought, a small smile crept onto his face as well.

Hoop there it is. As I have begged before: please review. I need comments – I don't care if they are compliments or criticisms. Let me know if I should keep going with these car rides. I am still not used to writing fan fiction and it is very important to me that the characters are believable as, well, themselves. Also, I'm not sure about the balance of this piece, cuz I kind of wrote it in bits and pieces – not all in one go – so I don't know what I was thinking when I started it. So please be kind and review.