A/N. So, a little angsty fic of Arthur thinking about Eames. I doubt anything will come of it, so don't expect an epic-long story or any real plot.
First Inception fic, so be nice, please (:
Also, I have no idea how much weight this theory- that projections can take on the forms of friends/colleagues/lovers etc- has, so just take it with a pinch of salt. Going from the whole Cobb/Mal thing, I think it has some weight, since he felt extremely guilty about the whole thing and seemed to not think about much else. IDK. For the purpose of this fic, they can change.
Oh, by the way, none of Inception belongs to me, like you thought it did... We have Christopher Nolan's brilliant mind to thank for that.

They say that sometimes the projections, the people, can change. For most dreamers, it's just people from the street. For some people, it was the person or thing that they think more about. For Cobb, it was Mal. For Arthur, it was Eames.

He couldn't remember when it had started. It had just... happened. One dream, the projections were just random people, harmless until aggravated, and then they began to take on small parts of Eames. One night, he'd spotted one man walking with Eames' over-confident swagger that Arthur pretended he hated. Secretly, he loved it. Another night, he saw a woman with Eames' annoyingly attractive stubble. That had been a strange dream. Over the course of the following week, he began to notice more and more of Eames seeping through into the one place that should have been Eames-free. It was like his subconscious was telling him something.

Arthur knew that he shouldn't take such delight in it. Eames occupied almost all of his waking thoughts, so why did he have to plague his dreams, as well? The thing was, the Point Man couldn't help but like it. He liked the way the Forger had wormed his way into his subconscious, without even knowing he was doing it. He liked the way that it was only small details, the things that he noticed most. One day, Arthur had seen Eames wearing a slightly crinkled, hideous tie. Somehow, it was very Eames and, then, that night, he'd seen the very same tie being carried across the sky by a gust of wind. It was the smallest thing like that, but Arthur noticed it.

Hell, he noticed everything.

From the faint aroma of whiskey and cigarette smoke, to the way that Eames touched his almost-there beard when he was thinking. He noticed when he shaved the beard, and always, always, when it grew back. To Arthur, Eames was everything that he wasn't. The Forger was confident in himself, easy going. He was flirtatious, witty, charming. Hell, Arthur knew he sounded obsessed but he couldn't help it. When his co-worker was this alluring, he told himself that there was nothing he could do but go along for the ride.

He tried to stop the ride, he really did. Hell, he'd even kissed Ariadne. It hadn't meant anything. He'd simply wanted to see if he could get the image of himself kissing Eames out of his mind. Arthur had tried to believe that he could get rid of this feeling, this aching, nagging sensation, but he couldn't. It was Eames he wanted, and Eames was the only one he couldn't have.

How was he even supposed to go about telling him? Eames would probably laugh it off, tell him that he was overworked and overtired. He couldn't face that. He didn't want to be told that this was nothing, just a phase. Perhaps it was, but he felt sure that it was more than that. A huge change like this wouldn't come along out of nowhere, for no reason. Everything had to have a reason, a rhyme, a meaning. There was balance, between event and reason. That was just the way the world worked to Arthur.

However much he liked Eames, that the was one thing he hated. The way the Forger could so easily upset the balance of things. Arthur had always enjoyed meticulous consistency, to the point of obsession, but then the Brit had come along and upset everything. Everything was out of balance, confused. It put Arthur on edge, made him want to sit down and list the 'pros' and 'cons'. That was how he sorted everything out. Somehow, he knew that Eames wasn't that cut and dry. There was no way he could be split into good and bad things, divided up into neat little columns. He wasn't that easy. In some ways that frustrated Arthur. Lists had always worked, for everything. In other ways, it almost excited him. It was new, this imbalance.

The way he couldn't get this man out of his head... Never had he imagined, as straight-laced as he was, that it would come down to this. Never had he imagined that he would find himself lusting after a colleague, a friend. A man, nonetheless. It was so very un-Arthur-like. In fact, he imagined it a dilema that the object of his affections would face, though he knew it wouldn't phase the other man as much as it bothered him. Everything was much more simple to Eames. He knew what he want, and how to get it. Arthur hadn't a clue.

It was the night that Eames visited him in his dreams that he knew he couldn't carry on like this. It wasn't really Eames, he knew that much upon waking to find his flat empty, but the fact that it looked, sounded and even smelled like him... It wasn't just small parts; it was the full package. For weeks, it had been building up to this, and he knew that he couldn't hide from it any more. In many ways, this was the inevitable. He'd felt almost guilty, for not telling Eames and he wanted him to know. There was the smallest chance that Eames would reciprocate, and the only way to know was to tell him what was going on inside the Point Man's head.

A deep breath, and several strong drinks later, Arthur had plucked up the confidence to dial the all-too-familiar number, his hand shaking only slightly as it rung.

A/N. So. I may leave it up to you to decide how the phone call went. I'm not sure if there's going to be another chapter, but reviews might help make up my mind ;)
But yeah, let me know what you thought of it and if you think I should continue.
Until next time (: