Title: No One Like You

Pairing: Cobb/Eames

Warning: Slash

Disclaimer: I don't own Inception

Prompt: A photograph in one of my other ffs

1998

Honestly, Eames was a hair's breath away from taking hold of Cobb's jacket and shoving him head first into the Thames. London had been graced with some sunshine, and commuters bustled about without a care in the world. Eames was leant against a tree, watching London, as well as Cobb for entertainment. His right hand in his trouser pocket jangled the keys to the 1973 series Ford Capri, courtesy of his father as a birthday present that was parked in Temple Place. His 23rd had been and gone a few days ago, and the first thing Eames did to the car was get it re-sprayed, because good God it was olive green. Now it was a respectable royal blue, which was much more to his taste. Eames looked up and squinted at his partner who stood with his back to him, photographing the Thames from Victoria Embankment. The blond 25 year old had taken up photography, something that Eames wished he never said Cobb might have an eye for. Dressed in Dunhill slacks and and a white polo shirt, Cobb was leaning over the wall, his elbows on the stone, the camera poised.

Cobb had turned up at Eames' home with a big grin on his face and a happy birthday. Eames had finished his degree a year earlier, but frequently visited Cobb who was in Paris for his final year. Apparently he was able to get time out of the internship his was working on for a firm, and so Eames didn't have to worry. Eames told him that he didn't worry in the slightest. There was a haze around celebrating being one year older with Cobb and being dragged around London with the budding architect. It wasn't that Eames didn't like London, on the contrary, but London to a Londoner is different from London to an American who likes photography. Eames chuckled when Cobb swore loudly to himself, having got a bad shot.

'Everything okay?' he asked, turning the page of his copy of Revolutionary Road by Yates.

'Perfect. Do you have any more Benson's?' Cobb called, and Eames rolled his eyes. Cobb was a walking contradiction to Eames himself. It seemed that as soon as Eames calls quits on his smoking habit, Cobb gets addicted. Either way Eames' pockets weren't getting lighter. If he wasn't paying for himself, he now paid for Cobb. Eames found out that he was able to buy cigarettes over the counter even though he was younger than Cobb, purely because the man still had a slight baby face. Oh it made all the girls coo over him, making Eames laugh.

'No, if you want some get them yourself blondie' Eames said and turned the next page of the book, thinking that Frank Wheeler was bastard.

'Could you perhaps stop calling me that?' Cobb asked loudly.

'No' Eames replied and he leaned off the tree and walked over to his friend. Cobb peered at the page number of the book when Eames placed it on the wall, the words facing up to the afternoon sky.

'I told you it was a good book' Cobb said smirking smugly.

'Forgive me for not trusting all of your recommendations' Eames matched his smirk. It took Cobb a few seconds to realise what Eames meant, and his blue eyes narrowed.

'Hey, it's not my fault you can't cook, okay. My cake was fine' Cobb replied haughtily. The instance remembered was when they were at university, and for some strange albeit interesting reason Cobb had decided to learn how to bake. Granted Eames wasn't the world's most austere chef but he knew his way around a kitchen like most boys. The end result was quite remarkable. The spotless kitchen, and boys, were both wrecked.

'Yes, and you almost destroyed my kitchen in the process. I've never been covered in so much flour in my life', which was still true. Eames had splattered his partner with cake mix, to which Cobb responded like a soldier and Eames was caked in flour.

'It looked good on you' Cobb grinned and Eames playfully shoved him in the shoulder. Cobb laughed, looking across the river once again. 'I wonder what we'll be like in ten years' time.' Cobb's brow furrowed.

The question hit Eames hard. He wasn't someone who thought about the future much, too focused on the present and the need to be flexible. He wouldn't be settled down that was a certainty, no, in ten years' time Eames sees himself in Mexico or Buenos Aires enjoying himself. Cobb however would probably have found someone he's fallen head over heels for. They were bound to split up; Eames had just never given it much thought. He loved the man, in the kind of way that if something happened to him, Eames would feel he missed a part of his life.

'I know what you're thinking' Cobb stated, paused and then said 'You're thinking that you'll never settle down and all that other crap' and Eames smiled, at Cobb's frown. The man had a way with reading people, and with Eames, Cobb knew him enough to see what made the cogs turn.

'Live and let live, that's what I say' Eames flashed a grin, and prised the camera from Cobb's grip. He put it up to eye level and took a photo of the ferry that was trundling along the water. The boat reminded him of his two weeks in Barcelona with Cobb in his first year, where they had scuba-dived off a boat, both boys being rookies in the particular trade. Afterwards Cobb had collapsed on the yellow sand in his pair of trunks, his tanned torso making him look quite lovely. They had both lain on the sand until they had to go back to the hotel. It was a mad two weeks, but one Eames will never forget. He handed the camera back to its owner wordlessly.

A gust of wind blew, and tourists carried on ambling by with their Pret lunches and their loud foreign accents.

'Vous devriez voir à Londres la nuit' Eames sighed (You should see London at night), wondering if Cobb remembered any French. At one point they drove their roommates insane because they talked for hours in different languages

'Je le ferai, mais seulement si vous me montrer' (I will, but only if you show me)

'Tais-toi grand softie' (Shut up you big softie) and Cobb laughed, Eames shaking his head at his friend. He separated the pages of his book and picked it up, begining to read once more, as Cobb resumed his photo taking.

'Alors que faire si je suis ?' Cobb shrugged (So what if I am ?). The snarky bastard.

'You sound better in French than you do in your strange American-English' Eames commented.

'Thanks you're so kind' Cobb emphasised his own accent, his words dripping with sarcasm. He sounded camp, not that Eames would tell him that. He liked Cobb's voice. Now that was a weird thought, but he did. He could remember the phone conversations they had from time to time, and there was something comforting about his voice. Eames disliked his own on the basis that everyone could tell that he was public schooled, which he despised.

'When did you book your flight back?' he asked, and Cobb lowered the camera to look at Eames.

'It's on Thursday'

'Well, before you go back and wow that employer of yours, you've got a few more days of me'

'He doesn't get excited about anything. I pretty sure he would have a lap dance and nothing would happen downstairs' Cobb said with a perfectly straight face, looking scandalized at the poor man's lack of – anything.

'You my boy, live on art and freedom and other madness that goes on in that pretty little head of yours. Others –don't' Eames surmised and Cobb hitched one shoulder in reply. 'I think maybe we should get a move on. The Thames satisfied your creative juices?' he asked, and Cobb nodded.

'Yeah, I think I could use some of the shots. Is there a Starbucks around here?' and Eames smirked, for all the time he had known Dominic Cobb he knew that good coffee was one of his stimulants.

They took a slow walk along the embankment and further, the sun slowly making its way across the sky. Cobb found a coffee place, and walked out with a Mocha. The sound of the Thames as it curled and moved along the bed with the bustle of the cars and buses was a good mix. When they walked around back through Temple Gardens and to the car, Eames was buried in his book again. Cobb had knack of saying lines just as he was reading them which was only to wind him up. Eames put his hand on the car door, swaying a bit, and reading on till a chapter mark.

'Eames, Eames, smile' was all the warning he got.

'Fuck off sunshine I'm reading' Eames replied, not looking up. He heard the distinct clicking sound of the shutter. Eames slowly raised his head to Cobb who grinned; he just stared at the man for a few moment s before rolling his eyes and getting in the car. Cobb got in, and Eames turned on the engine and pulled out of the space.

'I'm going use that photo, it's really good. You're annoyingly photogenic' Cobb said, looking at the screen.

'Yeah, I've been told that before' Eames said, a little distracted by the road.

'Not by me you haven't. That's an idea, you should be my muse.'

'Not a chance, shut up' was the only reply he deemed fit for the silly offer.

'Why, we could make good money?' Cobb protested.

'No offence Dominic, but I'm not letting you pimp me out' Eames turned a corner and hit red lights, letting his hands drop to the bottom of the wheel.

'You do know being someone's muse and their bitch are different things, right?' and Eames reached out and shoved Cobb into the car door, smiling at the 'ow' and then the shove back he recieved.

'Hey, you don't want a gendarme to tap on the window do you? Stop harassing the dirver' Eames tried to act the more mature of the pair. He then remembered what Cobb had just asked. 'Well yes, obviously. I do not wish to be either of them' Eames settled it, blinking to try and remove the images now circling he's conscience. There was a pause.

'If you change your mind...'

'Piss off'

I don't know, review if you like it and tell me what you think and what I could improve.