Writers block sucks, I hope this isn't all crap. I thought of it when I got writers block from my first story, Memories Are Meant to be Forgotten…..enjoy…I hope….
Disclaimer: nothing, not even Eames or Arthur, belong to me (*tear*) :'[
"Stop. Tapping," Arthur ordered through gritted teeth.
"What tapping, darling?" Eames asked, an innocent smile playing across his face.
He was currently tapping his pencil on the side of his desk in time with the ticks of the clock.
"That incessant tapping! With your pencil and desk—stop!" The young point man's eye was starting to twitch now. (Which of course was only making the forger smile brighter.)
"Oh! Oh, you mean what I'm doing right now? I hadn't even noticed," Eames joked, but still continued tapping, this time faster and louder.
"Yes that tapping! Now, stop. Tapping. Or I will rip your head off," Arthur growled. He glared at the forger as best he could with his twitching eye.
"As you wish, love," Eames said, trying not to laugh.
So the tapping ceased, but the humming commenced.
Arthur relaxed a bit—enough to understand what he was reading for a moment—until he heard Eames humming the Pirates of the Caribbean theme song.
Why does he do this to me? Arthur thought, putting his head in his hands. His misery soon turned into anger and he threw his notebook right at the forger's head.
The corner hit him square in the temple, causing him blurred vision for a moment. Even though he had a growing headache, Eames couldn't help but smile. He loved to get under Artie's skin like this.
"Why, pray tell Mr. Eames, do you torture me like this?" Arthur whined, finally asking the question Eames wanted to hear all day.
Eames walked over to Arthur's desk, setting his notebook down. "You seemed to have dropped this, Mr. Gordon," Eames said.
"Don't avoid my question, Mr. Eames. Why do you keep torturing me?" Arthur was intent on having his question answered. He was a determined man.
"I only torture you because you make it so easy. And it's rather fun to see you squirm and watch your eye twitch the way it was," he answered, smiling. He rested his hands on Arthur's shoulders gently.
"Yeah, well I might have to get back at you for that, Mr. Eames. Watch your back!" And he got up and left the warehouse.
Eames smirked. It was going to take quite a bit to scare the forger, especially so because Eames did not take Arthur's threat (if you could call it a threat) seriously.
As Eames was walking down the hallway to his apartment when he got a text.
From Arthur of course.
Ariadne wanted me to ask you if you want to come with us to her place for the evening, she's having some kind of celebration… are you coming y/n?
Eames wondered why the little freak even wrote in full sentences in a text. He replied:
course not, got better things 2 do 2nite
Arthur didn't text back.
Their conversations tended to be short. Running out of things to talk about and or being busy with work.
Eames went back to humming as he unlocked and opened his apartment door. And inside, were tons of clowns, all coming toward him with out stretched arms.
It was like a living nightmare. He even took out his totem to make sure. Eames flipped the white poker chip and it landed on white. Shit, this is real! he thought, panicking.
He ran back down the hall, down the elevator and back into the lobby of his complex. How could he remember that? he thought.
Back when they first met, Cobb took them on a test run into the dream world (as he did with everyone) and Eames totally freaked out. He created his own living nightmare, a world of clowns, closed spaces, and drunk drivers. It was madness.
Arthur, you are so dead.
This meant war.
So…? What'd ya think? Awful, awesome? Somewhere in between? Tell me what you thought!