I haven't written in a while so I thought doing something other than HP would be a warm welcome? + I have also watched Inception and I am in love with it. It's…just amazing. End of story. So I just wanted to make this small one-shot about Arthur/Ariadne. Because there weren't enough scenes with them. Just saying. (:

The was scribbling lightly on her sketchpad in between the addicting habit of biting the end of her pencil. It was late. Hell, it wasn't even Thursday anymore. It was Friday morning, 2:30 AM to be more specific, and she was alone in a room in the warehouse where they had been working on the Fischer job. Cobb was most likely hooked to PASIV not far from where she was sketching. Eames was probably there too. Or maybe he was home. He had complained previously on the late-night work. He was bound to be asleep. Yusuf was hooked on his experimenting, glass goggles visible on his eyes as his sweat dripped from the ends of his hair.

And then there was Arthur. The Point Man. When he said he was busy, he meant busy. Dark circles were evident under Arthur's dark eyes. While the architect had been staying until about 3, Arthur would stay longer and the next meeting, he would be yawning, rubbing his eyes and resting his head on his arms. It had to be exhausting. And Ariadne needed to know his secret on how he still obtained that suave, proper look he had every time she saw him, with his gelled back hair and his three piece suits.

A knock on the side of the doorframe interrupted her and she looked up to see Eames. The forger had a look of utmost curiosity when he caught sight of her. "Working hard or hardly working, love?"

Ariadne smiled. "Hello, Eames."

"Go get some rest. There's this thing Artie's telling me that Cobb needs you 24 hours tomorrow."

Ariadne raised an eyebrow and chuckled. "Artie…?"

"Oh, that's what I call Arthur."

Ariadne couldn't help but burst out into uncontrollable giggles. "And he's OK with it?"

"Well…no," said Eames, suddenly realizing. "Then again I just realized I do it just to piss him off."

"What's 'Artie' ever done to you?"

"Nothing except never remove that pole in his ass."

Ariadne chuckled, then gave him a serious look. "Eames."

"Ariadne," he retaliated. "I joke, it's an older man thing. But I honestly don't what you see in him."

"See in who?" Ariadne said innocently, not taking her eyes off her pencil.

"Artie."

"What?"

"Oh come on, do you really think I'm an idiot?"

"Yes, if you think I see – something – in Arthur."

"Ariadne. Look at me."

She refused, but couldn't help it at the same time and met the forger's gaze. "What?"

"You are in love with Arthur."

"What – pshh – Eames!" she said furiously, closing her sketch pad and searching blindly for her bag. "Right, and pigs can fly."

"I've been with plenty of women, Ariadne, and quite honestly I can tell when they can't get enough of me or when they just want me to leave. You and me are the second. Someone else is the first – and I'll give you a clue, it's not Cobb. Or Yusuf." He chuckled at the thought, and then leaned back in his chair. "But It's OK. It'll be our little secret. Until you plan to tell him, of course."

"Tell him what?"

"That you've been eyeing him and want a little bit of a taste."

"Alright – that's it. You've got it completely wrong. Arthur's a great guy. He's really good looking and good at what he does and the way he works is just…" she realized where she was going and face-palmed. "Is it that obvious?"

Eames made a sound of utmost triumph; he clapped and leaned back in his chair so low, then went forwards, dying of laughter.

"Will you stop it? He might hear you!" Ariadne mused, but Eames continued to laugh. "Eames, I'm warning you…God you're disgusting."

"I'm sorry. But yeah. I can't believe I've got you to admit that. You and Arthur…wow."

"I know, it's not a good mix."

"What are you talking about, love? It's a perfect mix. You're the curious, hot-in-a-teenage-kind-of-way type and Artie's the serious, James Bond-esque type. You could totally loosen him up."

"Whatever."

"Are you ready, though Ariadne? To take on someone as logical as him?"

Ariadne raised an eyebrow. "I'm 22, Eames."

"And I'm 29, young Ariadne. I have had plenty of experience by now. Arthur's 26, so he's probably had a girlfriend or two."

Ariadne rolled her eyes. "Of course he has. I have, so he might as well have."

"How can you like someone you barely even know?" Eames said curiously.

"I don't – well of course I know Arthur! He's…well…"

"What's his last name?"

"I…he never told me!" she said hotly. She then shot him a mischievous grin. "Do you know it, then?"

"Well…no. He never told me either. I think the only person he's told is Cobb, and that's about it."

Ariadne shrugged. "He's so quiet. And when he's not, he's usually talking about the mission and stuff.. He needs to loosen up."

"You could do it," Eames blurted out. "I mean, I'm sure Cobb has. I've tried."

"And?"

"I think I might've said a few things he didn't appreciate. But maybe it's just me and my nosy arse. So that leaves you and Yusuf. Quite frankly I don't think Artie would be open to him about it. So that leaves…" he made a face of mock stupidity. "You."

Ariadne laughed. "Me and Arthur have nothing in common."

"For starters, both you names start with 'Ar'."

Ariande raised her eyebrow at him. "We are 8 years apart and I still believe I am more mature than you."

Eames rolled in his chair. "Whatever, love."

They were both interrupted by another tap by the doorframe, and turned around. Arthur. He had a look of surprise but still managed to obtain the "I'm-better-than-you" look. Seeing Ariadne and Eames was not an everyday thing, apparently. "I'm ready to run some tests, Ariadne, if that's OK with you."

"Sure Arti – er, Arthur," she said, grabbing her jacket and walking away from the room.

Arthur turned to follow her as Eames called, "Use protection!"

"Shut up, Eames," Arthur said, but Ariande smiled a little. As they reached his work table, Ariadne yawned and stretched. Arthur began to speak again. "So I've got some more information about Fischer's mind. This can help determine what kind of setting we can use in the dream and what kind of designs we can use, specific designs. Things extremely detailed. So for example, if we were to create a living room, every inch needs to have the right design. Every button the remote, and every correct amount of pillows on each sofa."

"Got it," said Ariadne. "Actually, I do have a question about the mazes and…I'm sorry, Arthur, but can I just ask you one thing?" she said, thinking of Eames.

"Sure," he said patiently.

"And this isn't Fischer-related. What's your last name?"

Arthur raised his eyebrows and looked taken aback. "Nobody's really bothered asking me that. I like to go by Arthur."

"I do like it though. But sometimes last names are more called then firsts. Look at Cobb and Eames – that is his first name, right?"

"Yeah," said Arthur, smirking. Something he did as a replacement of smiling. "My last name is Davenport."

Ariadne smiled. "Davenport. I like it. One more thing. Why don't you tell people?"

Arthur shrugged. "I do. But in professional situations. In the dreaming business, giving a last name can be dangerous sometimes. I'm lucky I didn't with Cobal. And generally people don't ask me. When I was little, people would just call me Arthur. Or "that kid Arthur". It was never Arthur Davenport. That's what people know me by."

Ariadne nodded. "Well I like it…Arthur. Davenport." She smiled. "One last thing."

Arthur seemed to enjoy the conversation. "What?"

"Eames told he calls you Artie."

Arthur smirked, raised an eyebrow then went back to shuffling papers. "Just show me the mazes."

She smiled too. Sometimes you need to know a little bit more about a certain Point Man.

Wow, first Inception fanfic!

R&R please, I really like feedback (: