Title: Perchance to Dream

Authors: Gabrielle Day and Takada Saiko

Notes: So, obviously we don't own Inception. Sadly. There's a story that goes with this, which seems like a repeat of every series and fandom that I follow, it's that Gabrielle Day tells me 'you would love this' and I say 'maybe,' put it off for months, and then watch said show/movie/whatever and fall in love with it. This movie is a work of brilliance. Also, just as a side note because of Eames' teasing, this is not meant as slash or pre-slash, but I'm sure you could read it as pre if you wanted to. =)

Chapter One.

Miles shifted in his seat, a skeptical look crossing his aging face. It wasn't that he didn't trust his future son-in-law. Quite the opposite, actually. It was that he didn't trust anyone that was interested in hiring out those in Dom's profession.

"I never said someone was hiring us out," Dominic Cobb said as he inspected Miles' lecture notes.

The Englishman's frown deepened. "What on earth would you need a team for then? You and Mal have topped the research field just the two of you."

A sheepish smile crept to the younger man's lips and he ducked his head, blond hair falling out of place. "Okay," he admitted slowly, "it's a job beyond research." He paused, turning to meet the other's eyes truthfully. "It's completely legit, I promise you. You know that I would never take Mal into anything dangerous."

A small smile touched Miles' lips. "You would never knowingly take her into anything dangerous, I know that, yes. Who's hiring you?"

Dom shook his head, putting down one set of notes to pick up another. "I can't say." he grimaced as soon as he had said it. "That doesn't make it sound any safer, does it? If I could tell you, you would know. It's a once in a lifetime opportunity. We'd learn so much, prove so much by making it work. And while Mal and I are very good, it would be better with a team. Safety in numbers. And you know who the best people would be." Dom said, watching Miles' expression shift from disapproving to contemplative.

"You need a decent engineer," the professor murmured after a moment. He stood then, rather suddenly, and Dom had to hurry to catch up. Miles stopped for half a second when he saw his daughter standing just outside of his classroom door, clutching tightly at her research material and waiting somewhat impatiently. "Come one, then," he said and moved swiftly down the hallway.

The three of them wound silently through the noisy hallways of the college, dodging students and professors alike until they reached the library. Dom was barely able to stop in time to keep from colliding with Miles as the elder man surveyed the studying crowd. Mal did bump into him, grabbing for his hand as she did so. Miles' eyes lit up as he found the student that he seemed to be looking for and he made his way towards a lone figure at the far corner.

The boy - he didn't look a day over eighteen, if that - sat hunched over his books, eyes scanning from left to right and pen in hand, jotting note after note. He didn't notice their approach partially because of the earplugs that led to his iPod on the table. Miles tapped him on the shoulder, causing the student to jerk suddenly, looking up with wide, dark eyes as if a gun had just gone off near his head. He ripped the ear buds out and stood formally, greeting the professor and apologizing for not seeing him. Dom was somewhat surprised to hear not only English, but American accented English leave the young man's mouth.

Miles patted the boy's shoulder affectionately. "No need to apologize, son. I know you're buckling down for that exam, aren't you?" He nodded and brushed dark hair away from his face. "Yes, sir. I'm ready, but it never hurts to go over everything again."

Miles beamed and looked back to Dom and Mal. "This is why he's one of my best students. You know Mal, Arthur, but this is her fiancé Dominic Cobb."

Dom watched the young man carefully but with a smile as he stepped forward to shake hands. His handshake was firm and sure, even if he appeared hesitant. Dom thought he was dressed more formally than most of his peers. "You seem very dedicated to your studies." Dom said. Arthur nodded. "I am, yes."

Dom looked at Miles, who nodded once. Dom grinned. "Arthur, I'd like to talk to you about a job."

Arthur had studied theories on the dreamscape and use of the PASIV to navigate it. As an up-and-coming engineering student, he'd felt that the world's newest technology that required an engineer to run it was something that he should be aware of, if nothing else. Professor Miles had given him books and direction when he'd first entered the masters program a year before at the college, but this was the first time he'd actually seen it first hand. He stood marveling at the cityscape that Mal and Dom had created, his eyes wide in uncharacteristic awe.

"So," Dom said slowly, leaning back against a railing of a bridge that should not have bent the way that it did, "what do you think?"

"It's..." He had no words. How could one describe it? Arthur had never fancied himself an overly creative person, certainly not compared to the architecture students that Miles prized so highly, but he had an appreciation for it. He thought that his appreciation might have multiplied that day. "What's the job?" he asked as he peered down the steps, noting that they seemed to bend upward as if he would be able to walk on the sky if he were to follow them. Maybe he could.

Mal squeezed his arm and smiled. "You could." she said softly, nudging him forward. "Try."

Arthur glanced at Dom who nodded. He took a step forward, feeling his foot meet the ground, solid beneath him as it took him away from where Dom and Mal stood and into the air, leaving him suspended between the earth and the sky. He grinned briefly before stepping back down. "Incredible." he murmured. He caught the gaze of a passerby, noting the way they stared at him until they had passed.

"The job should be relatively easy. We mainly want to put a team together to have all aspects covered and to emphasize that this kind of thing can be done." Dom said.

"That's still kind of vague." Arthur said.

"So is our business," Mal answered, watching the same people that Arthur had.

"Those are projections," Dom explained easily. "As to the job... We need an affirmation from you before we can say anything specific. I can tell you that it's legal, but that's the furthest I can go."

"I don't like to jump into something before knowing the details," Arthur murmured, his eyebrows knitting closely.

Dom's face lit at this and he seemed to have found another trait that he liked in the younger man. "Good. Good... Miles was right. You are perfect for this."

"I'm sorry?"

"Dom, he hasn't agreed yet."

Her fiancé grinned broadly, his eyes saying to her that he knew that he would.

"I've read about the projections," Arthur said, switching the subject as he watched them. "Why are they looking at me like that, though? You're the dreamer, shouldn't they be after you?"

Dom gave a shrug. "It's all a game of the subconscious, but Mal and I are close. Even her subconscious loves me." She rolled her eyes in response and gave him a gentle shove of playful irritation.

Arthur tried to not feel uncomfortable as the projections began to take more notice of him. It appeared to him that while Mal's subconscious might very well love Cobb, it didn't seem to like company very much. He ignored them and turned to stare at the cityscape again.

If he didn't know he was dreaming, he'd never know that this wasn't real, that this wasn't the world. It was stunning and expansive and very alive. But even the fantastical needed structure, which was what he was good at. "I'll do it." he murmured. "I want to be a part of it."

Dom didn't bother to hide his pleased expression. "Excellent."

Dom grew to like the young engineer more and more as time went on, though he hardly believed him when he claimed several years older than Dom had originally believed him to be. As soon as he had explained the job - very hush-hush because it was the CIA questioning one of their own agents. They had wanted the best, and they'd heard the best was Dominic Cobb - Arthur dove into the details that he seemed to love. He all but live in the library when he was not in classes, and was finally kicked out well after closing on most nights.

Two weeks later, sometime well after midnight, Dom was woken out of a deep sleep by someone pounding on his apartment door. He groaned and stretched, thinking that it might be one of those rare, non-PASIV induced dreams that he caught a hold of every once and a while, but the way that the door rattled again proved him wrong and he threw the sheets off and padded towards the door. He opened it, looking tired and disheveled, to see Arthur looking as he always did. "Don't you sleep?" Dom grumbled, glancing back at the clock. Three hours past midnight. Damn.

"I do," Arthur acknowledged, looking as if he were expecting to be invited in.

The architect shrugged and nodded for him to come on in and Arthur immediately moved to the large board that they had tacked various notes to during their last meeting. "We're missing something," he said unhelpfully as his reluctant host fell back against the couch, propping his feet on the coffee table. "And that is?" Dom prodded with a yawn.

Arthur stood back, surveying their work and flipping through his own notes. "This sort of information is hard to come by. You might work well as an extractor, of sorts, with your skill set, but I think we need... We need something. Something else. Something beyond an extractor."

Dom frowned deeply, his brain turning over like an engine slowly rumbling to wakefulness. "Arthur. What do you mean beyond an extractor? That's the point of the extractors; to pull the information out of deep places."

Arthur sighed. "I know, I know. But in the dream, we're still strangers to them. If their subconscious is the least bit suspicious, it's over. And we're dealing with trained agents, you know that somewhere in their training they covered mental attacks."

"I don't know if the CIA is fronting subconscious protection training." Dom said.

"It doesn't matter if they cover that specifically. As a trained agent, their default is suspicion. Mistrust. They don't trust this guy we're going after, which means he probably doesn't trust them or anybody else very much." the young man stood in front of the white board, armed with a marker and looked ready to strike at any given moment.

Dom rolled his neck until it popped, grinned when Arthur winced. "So, you're suggesting we need someone who can present themselves inside the dream as somebody the target already trusts. Or would be likely to trust more easily."

"Exactly," Arthur answered, his voice edging on excitement.

Dom thought no one should be that excited at three in the morning. "Okay, Arthur, I know you're new to this, but I don't think that's even possible -"

"Of course it is," the engineer responded, shooting the elder man a look bordering on irritation. "All we need is a con-man. A forger. He'll all ready be accustomed to misleading people, so to do so in a dream-state should be easier." "Where would we even find someone like that? It's not like we can put out an ad requesting a thief, and we're running close to the deadline as it is."

"I can have a list for you by tomorrow morning of possibilities."

"You don't sleep. I knew it."

"I do, just not when this is so important."

"You should probably be rested, you know." Dom grumbled as Arthur headed back for the door.

Arthur stopped in the open doorway, half a smile on his lips. "But Dom, we'll be sleeping." He shut the door behind him.

Dom leaned his head back on the couch and laughed. "Perchance to dream, my friend."

Six short hours later Arthur was back, a sheet of paper and two cups of coffee in hand. "Ah. You're learning." Dom said as the younger man entered the apartment again.

"I'm a quick study." Arthur agreed. "Here's the list."

Dom took the paper from him. "Do I even want to know how you're able to assemble a list of con-men in less than six hours? And you seem like such a good boy."

Arthur shot him a look as he went to the kitchen to get more sugar for his coffee. "Hilarious, Cobb."

"I thought so. At least it's a short list."

"It wasn't to begin with," the dark haired man said as he took a seat opposite of Dom, beginning to fix his coffee to his liking. "It took a couple of hours to wheedle them down to the best of the best here in the Paris area."

Dom stared. "You're serious?"

Arthur blinked innocently. "Of course." He gave a short shrug and pointed at the names. "These three seem to the be the most capable, according to my sources, but sadly the top man was, apparently, taken into custody for something or the other."

"Damn our luck," Dom drawled, his voice holding hints of sarcasm.

"Not really. If the police caught him, I don't think he was worth our time to begin with. This second man here has been arrested several times, but only served one brief sentence."

"The CIA isn't going to want a known criminal on our team, Arthur."

"I know, so it looks like this person here is our only option on such short notice. I don't... I couldn't find a first name. I'm sorry." The young man looked truly embarrassed by the fact. "A Mr. Eames. I set up an interview if you're interested."

"You are full of surprises. When do we meet him?" Dom asked. Arthur frowned. "We?"

"Yes, we. You and me. You picked the list, you should be there to help me decide whether or not we add our thief to the team."

Arthur took a long sip of his coffee. "Shouldn't you take Mal if you're going to take anyone?" he asked.

Dom shrugged. "I told her about your idea and she's okay with me deciding. And I'm deciding that you're going to help me decide."

Arthur shook his head. "You're trying to confuse me into agreeing to this."

Dom grinned. "Is it working?"

"All right. I'll go. The interview's at noon, at Cafe Vert."

"Okay," Dom said as he looked at his watch. "I'll meet you there. I'm supposed to have a late breakfast with Mal before going into the labs to do a bit of research."

Arthur nodded and stood to leave. Somehow, Dom was sure he wasn't going off to sleep.

Noon rolled around and Dom spotted Arthur sitting at the small cafe sipping on a tea and looking as if he'd come early. He glanced up from whatever research he was doing every few minutes, keeping an eye out for Dom and their potential team member's arrival.

"He hasn't shown yet?" Dom asked as he approached.

"No, not yet," Arthur grumbled, sounding annoyed.

They sat and waited another half hour, the engineer growing very irritated at each minute that ticked by, until a man came sauntering up the street that they recognized from a photo that Arthur had managed to obtain. The young student stood, eyes cutting like daggers. "You're late," he announced as their elusive Mr. Eames began to pass them by, as he would have any other patrons to the cafe.

He stopped and glanced Arthur over one time. "I'm sorry, darling, was I supposed to bring flowers as well?" His blue gaze swiveled to Dom, he nodded once and swept into the cafe without a backwards glance. Dom's eyebrows lifted, mostly in amusement at the way Arthur's jaw had slackened slightly in shock at how he had been addressed. Arthur sat, stood, and sat again, all without saying anything. "He's certainly got a personality." Dom remarked casually.

"Wha-that is not a personality. That was a distinct lack of personality and anything resembling manners." Arthur protested.

Several minutes later Eames reappeared with a cup of coffee and a croissant and slid into the empty seat. "I understand you're looking for a touch of finesse with a...project." he said.

Dom nodded. "I'm Dominic Cobb."

"I'm aware. Who's the rugrat?" Eames asked, jerking his head in Arthur's direction.

The younger man's face burned bright red and his entire body tensed under the self-control he had to maintain not to stand again as he spoke. "I think I made a mistake, Cobb. We're wasting our time with this one."

Dom grinned. "No, I trust your instincts, Arthur. I think we should give Mr. Eames a chance."

"Just Eames," the con-man said with a shrug.

"Eames," Dom corrected and then nodded towards his companion, "Arthur."

The wide smile that crossed Eames' face caused a sinking feeling in the engineer's stomach. "Can I call you Artie?"

"Absolutely not."

"Right. Artie it is."

"It most certainly is not," Arthur snapped, finally giving into his urge to stand.

"Have a seat, Artie, it's a beautiful day." Eames said easily, popping a bite of his croissant into his mouth.

"My name is not Artie!" Arthur exclaimed.

Dom bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing and tugged Arthur's sleeve. "Sit down, Arthur. We need to talk business."

Arthur looked tempted to leave them both there, but eventually sat, carefully not looking at Eames.

Dom looked back to Eames. "So you're very good at what you do." "That doesn't sound like a question, Mr. Cobb."

"Call me Dom. It's not. The question is, are you the best at what you do?"

Eames considered this. "I'm a free man. I'm a living man. In my business, those two facts put you damn near the top."

Dom nodded, his face giving little away. He glanced over to Arthur who still appeared to be fuming at the taunts. "Have you worked within dreams before, Eames?"

Eames paused mid-sip, blue eyes snapping open to peer over his coffee cup. "If this is some sort of set up, Cobb-"

Dom raised his hands quickly, trying to put the con-man at ease. "It's not. If you agree to this, you will be well compensated for your work and not with a prison sentence. If you don't agree to it, you walk away without another question from either Arthur or myself."

Eames seemed to think the words over for a moment, eyes shifting between the two men before coming to meet Dom's once more. "I have. Worked in dreams, I mean," he said slowly, deliberately.

"We are looking for someone with the ability to use their forging abilities in a unique way," Arthur cut in unexpectedly, his voice sounding surprisingly business-like and even. "You would need to forge your appearance."

The grin returned to Eames' face as he realized that Arthur suspected, after speaking with him, that he would not be capable of the feat after all. "Simple," he said with a shrug.

Even the marginal twitch of the young man's jaw was a victory in the con-man's mind.

"Simple." Arthur echoed flatly.

"Yes, simple." Eames repeated.

"You've done this before?" Dom asked.

Eames nodded. "It didn't hold long, at first. Practice makes perfect, of course."

"Have you had much practice or are do you still quickly deflate?" Arthur asked.

"Ouch. Cut me to the quick, Artie. Yes, I've had...practice."

Dom resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "The job is legal. You'd be in no danger." he offered.

"Well how could I refuse such a grand offer and miss the opportunity to spend time with such a friendly and fresh face as this one over here? I'll do it." Eames said.

Much to Arthur's irritation he spent the next twenty-four hours prepping Eames for the assignment. The con-man was far behind the rest of them when it came to preparation and the younger man was convinced that he must learn it all within that time span. They were closing in on the deadline and none of them wanted to think too much on the idea of having an irritated CIA breathing down their collective neck.

Eames proved to have the attention span of a fish and it took longer than Arthur would have wished to get him to the point of the dream stage of his preparation. Finally the two men stood in the dreamscape, Cobb having all ready called it a day along with Mal.

"I'm going to go out on a limb and guess you're a fan of stairs," the forger deadpanned as he took in the dream's surroundings.

"I like paradoxes."

They kept walking, and they kept passing each other. "These stairs don't go anywhere." Eames pointed out.

"Exactly." Arthur said.

Eames frowned at the clean lines, smooth surfaces, and perfectly symmetrical structuring. "Your mind is a terrible place, darling." Eames mumbled when Arthur was at the stairs and out of earshot.

The young man turned back to him. "What?"

"Nothing."

Arthur frowned but let it go. As he turned he clipped a young brunette woman in an evening dress. "Sorry," Arthur said automatically. She didn't react, merely kept walking. Arthur looked around. "You've got a lot of women in your subconscious." he said.

Eames shrugged. "Women are pretty. They don't seem to like you though."

Arthur didn't bother to correct him. He was too busy being disconcerted that even though Eames was virtually a beginner, and Arthur kept making changes (and walking into projections) they didn't seem to pay him any mind. He couldn't tell if Eames' projections were ignoring him, or didn't mind him being there. He wasn't sure which would be worse.

"How often have you done this?"

"Done what?" Eames asked distractedly, leaning against a railing as a pretty girl stopped and began to flirt with him.

"That's... somehow very wrong," Arthur grumbled.

The forger paid him no mind as the blonde girl smiled and fluttered dark eye-lashes.

"Shared a dreamspace," he tried again, still with no response in return.

A half smirk perked the younger man's lips as Eames turned, still distracted and fell off of the Penrose steps to the next level down. The blonde turned to stare at him, but it was worth it. He'd finally gotten the irritating man's attention. He leaned over the edge of the steps and peered down. "Are you done flirting with yourself now?"

Eames didn't say anything but smiled to himself when Arthur's attention was diverted as the blonde brushed against Arthur before continuing up the stairs.

Arthur frowned. So he'd finally been noticed, but it didn't seem to be hostile. He turned back to Eames, only to find the con-man was gone. "What..." he looked around and felt a tap on his shoulder. Arthur turned to find Eames behind him, grinning.

"Flirting is a fine business, Artie. You should try it some time, you know. Maybe you'd even like yourself if you gave you half a chance. Where to now?"

Arthur frowned deeply. "You've yet to prove anything to me."

"Funny, this whole bit," Eames murmured, cocking his head slightly as he spoke. "I hear that you and Cobb have known each other under a month, yet you seem to take point very well, don't you?"

"I am good at what I do," Arthur sniffed.

"And what exactly do you do?"

The smirk returned. "Anything I put my mind to."

The stairs dropped suddenly out from under the con-man and he grabbed at the edge. "You like being on top, don't you?"

Arthur turned bright red and Eames grinned broadly. "Your problem," he said as he struggled to pull himself back on level with the younger man, "is that you allow people to see exactly what your thinking, if they know how to look for it. You think you're hiding it, but you're not."

As he stood, Arthur was suddenly faced with a different person. Eames had been replaced with a face the student knew well. A tall, thin man with slim glasses and harsh eyes stood in the forger's place, eyes cold and voice biting. "I'm sure I should say something cliché like 'you've done nothing productive with your life,' shouldn't I?" Eames asked with another's voice. "If you're going to thrive in this business, perhaps you should bury your personal life deeper than you've managed to."

Arthur licked his lips and resisted the urge to take a step back for thirty seconds before he couldn't help but move away. "Stop it." he said, disconcerted. He glanced around as if looking for Eames' face, somehow feeling that Eames should be controlling the figure like a ventriloquist instead of being the man he now saw. "Don't be him." Arthur said. "I don't want...don't."

The thin man took a step closer. "Oh, come now Arthur. Isn't this you getting it right? Getting the nice forger to do what you want?"

Arthur took another step back. "I'm not kidding, Eames. Stop it right now." his voice sounded hollow in his own ears.

"What, Arthur? Can't take a bit of pressure?"

Arthur felt himself slip off the edge of the stairs, the same paradox that he'd used on Eames momentarily forgotten. He was jolted back to realty, the sound of the PASIV's countdown ending.

Dark eyes blinked, trying to focus, and he felt sweat beaded against his face.

"Well that was a rush," Eames laughed.

Arthur looked over, a sense of relief washing over him when he saw the forger and not the harsh face of the man from the dream. "How?"

Eames motioned to the bookshelf in the furthest corner of the student's living room that they'd turned into their make-shift work space. Arthur's eyes connected to a small, plainly framed photo turned at an awkward angle. "Like you don't want him seeing you," Eames murmured. "Didn't take a rocket scientist."

"Are you a criminal or a psychologist?" Arthur asked mildly.

Eames snorted. "Same difference, darling. Besides, that what's you want, isn't it? The quick armchair study, close enough to pull the strings to get you and Cobb into the inner sanctum for the information."

"Just make sure you don't pick someone who will antagonize them and make it more difficult." Arthur said, standing stiffly.

"Only for you, Artie. Difficult has never been so much fun."

"We're supposed to meet Cobb in an hour," the engineer said, stuffing his hands deep into his pockets to keep them from shaking. He wasn't entirely sure why Eames' joke had hit him so hard, but every part of him felt unhinged. Maybe Dom had been right about needing more rest.

Eames yawned and stretched, propping his feet up on Arthur's table and receiving an irritated glance from the younger man. "Gives me enough time for an honest nap."

Arthur snorted in response, grabbing the offending photograph as he passed by and turning it face down. He could feel Eames' blue eyes boring into his back. "What?" he snapped without turning.

"What's the issue there?"

"The issue is none of your concern. We'll do this job and I hope to never need to see you again, Mr. Eames. You may leave now. Take your nap somewhere else and meet us at the college in exactly one hour. Not thirty minutes past. Not ten minutes past. Exactly one hour, if not earlier."

Eames sighed dramatically and leveled himself off the couch. "If you insist, Artie. I'll do my very best to be there in exactly one hour." He sauntered towards the door. "I'll just see myself out then."

"You do that." Arthur snapped. "One hour, Eames."

Eames waved him off and slipped out of the apartment. The forger frowned as he left the building. He hadn't meant to completely derail the young man, just push his buttons. He hoped that their little group kept in control during the job. Eames wasn't sure how Arthur would handle someone going after him with malicious intent. Eames smiled to himself. More malicious than him, at any rate.

TBC

Notes: First chapter! I can't promise that this will be posted with any sort of consistency, but thus far we've been writing on it each evening. Please, reviews do help with that process. The that we know that you like it, the harder we work. That, and we're review addicts. Please, feed the authors.