A/N: First story, here goes nothing... Feel free to tell me how much it sucked! Really, people? Almost 500 hits and only 5 comments? You're killing me here. :)
They were all standing on the roof of a building. A really very tall building Eames noticed, almost seventy floors. Ariadne was working out the last few kinks in the city's layout with the team.
"But what if one section was blocked for road service? Then he would have to take the path that leads straight to the bar," said Arthur, smoothing the edges of his jacket.
"Yes, I guess that would work, thanks," Ariadne replied distractedly, noticing how his collar hugged his neck in a very pleasant way and wondering, briefly, what it would be like to wind her arms around that neck, snug as the collar of an expensive, tailored shirt… Ariadne shook herself out of her reverie. Looking out over her city, she made a mental note that skyscrapers weren't usually purple. She touched up a few more details, adding a fountain in the main outside area of the building they were standing on and placing a flower vender near the now blocked off section of the crossroad, just to be safe.
The Mark, Thomas Avery, had severe allergies, causing him to look at any type of outdoor life with disdain. This is why he lived in a city almost completely covered in concrete, and – as Arthur said – took every flower stand as a personal insult.
Arthur sent an approving glance in her direction, "She's getting better," he thought to himself, noticing the newly-placed stand. He also noticed from the corner of his eye how a piece of her hair kept getting in her eyes, making her have to continually tuck it behind her ear. Although, she kept doing it wrong, only getting it halfway behind the ear each time. He wanted desperately to place the treacherous curl rightly behind her ear, so it would no longer make her uncomfortable. It was a conscious effort to stop his arm from reaching out each time the strand fell loose.
Eames, on the other hand, paid no attention to either of them. He sauntered over to the slight railing that separated him from open air and a long fall. Something blonde caught his eye. Shuffling the gravel with the edge of his shoe, he thought of how lovely a certain lady projection of Ariadne's looked. He wondered if she would introduce them in real life…
"Honestly, Eames, why do we even bring you? All you're probably doing over there is shamelessly undressing some poor woman," Arthur complained. "You bring me for my good looks, darling." Eames said. "And, yes, this one girl looks quite appetizing, Ariadne," flashing a cocky grin in the Architect's direction.
"Nope, forget it, Eames. I'm not hooking you up with another of my friends. Not after what happened last time. Never again."
"But she was so much fun!", Eames whined. "We ate peanut butter sandwiches! I showed her how to do a ba -"
"Eames, we do not want to know the names of your disgusting sexual practices," Arthur interrupted with a wave of the hand. "Is this building of any importance?" he asked, walking over to the edge and leaning precariously over the railing.
"No. It just has the best view." Ariadne tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and didn't notice the slow smile spreading over Eames' face. Before she could register anything, Eames had lifted Arthur's feet off the ground and tipped him off the building.
"ARTHUR!" Ariadne screamed, one arm shot out to late in the vain attempt to catch him. She quickly turned before she heard a light thud and a scream go up from one of the projections down below.
Eames was caught in a fit of silly giggles, doubled over in an attempt to catch his breath. Ariadne just stared at him. She just didn't understand men…
"He is going to be so pissed when he comes back," she said, putting a hand to her forehead, her heart pounding wildly in her chest.
Eames, halfway gaining composure, said, "Oh, but he's just so cute when he's angry! Is he not, love?" Grinning broadly, he went on "I may have caused a few wrinkles in his precious suit, though."
"Yes, well, you may gain more than a few wrinkles to your face if you ever scare me like that again," Ariadne said, making it a point to not look over the edge of the building to see what she knows would be the horrible bloody pile of stuff that used to be Arthur.
She quickly pulled out her Bishop and, when assured this wasn't reality, that Arthur hadn't really been thrown over the side of a building, Ariadne let out a sigh of relief. Stowing her totem, she placed a hand to her heart, noticing how absurdly fast it was beating. "It wasn't real. It wasn't real. Get a hold of yourself," she thought, walking some distance away.
"Oh, it seems that we've drawn quite a crowd," Eames said with a hint of humor on his lips, looking over the railing.
"Have we now?" muttered Ariadne, twisting and untwisting her hands nervously while trying to calm down. Eames, looking over, frowned slightly to himself. Noticing how flustered she was, he walked over to her.
"I'm sorry Ariadne. I never meant to scare you. I know how much Arthur means to you and how you fe-"
"What," said Ariadne, flipping around quicker that Eames expected, causing him to take an involuntary step back. "What do you mean by that?" Eames adopted back the smile he had before and wagged his finger at the Architect.
"Don't play that card with me, dear. I may not be very smart, but I certainly know about people, and their actions about each other. It's what I do, remember?" Ariadne blushed. "I really have no idea what you're talking about…"
"Oh please! Ever since that kiss on the Fischer project, you two have been acting strangely around each other." Ariadne opened her mouth to object but Eames spoke again before she could. "But, I do give you congratulations, darling. It took me a long while to notice."
At this, Ariadne could no longer keep up the act. Practically throwing her body down on a nearby bench (making Eames blink in surprise, the bench had not been there a second before), crossing her arms and huffing out a sigh, she looked up at Eames. "I really don't know what to do! After we all got off the plane, after Cobb left, I looked for him. He had disappeared! I thought for sure he would want to at least talk to me."
Eames nodded his head in understanding, encouraging her to continue.
"I tried to look for him, but how could I find him? Go around asking people, Hey, have you seen this really handsome guy in a three-piece suit with big ears anywhere near here? His name's Arthur. We just got out of a three-layer dream trying to steal valuable information for corporate espionage where he kissed me and I slipped into Limbo. It's really Important I talk to him. NO! NO, I COULDN'T! And I couldn't do research. What do I type into Google? Arthur? I don't even know his last name, for god sake's – and he couldn't at least have had the decency to leave a phone number! Who does he think-"
"Whoa, darling, slow down, you're beginning to give me a headache…" Eames said, holding up his hands as a sign of surrender.
"Sorry," she said, sighing. "I just haven't told anybody. And… And it's just so frustrating, you know?" Ariadne looked up to see Eames nodding his head again. She looked down, spent after her rant. Eames slowly sat down next to her. Ariadne continued, slower now, "And I get a call three months later, Arthur saying he has a job, telling me to meet him at the warehouse, then hanging up. Ever since, he's been acting as if nothing's happened. He's just so full of shit sometimes that I want to just… Just…"
"Push him off the side of a building?" asked Eames, smiling down at her. "Yeah," she said, resting her head in her hands and looking out over the city again.
"I wouldn't worry, darling. Arthur's a bloody moron, but he'll come around. He'd be an idiot not to," Eames said, taking her hand. "Thanks, Eames." Ariadne gently squeezed his hand. "Why can't you be this nice all the time?" she asked, looking up with a smile.
"I wouldn't be nearly as fun, love."
~vOvOvOvOvOv~
Arthur sat up in the cold warehouse with a jolt. He pulled the IV out off his arm, wincing slightly. He stood up and began pacing around in a very frustrated manner, squeezing his dye in the pocket of his neatly pleated pants.
Eames knew how much he hated falling, hated kicks, especially ones off of sixty-eight story buildings. Glancing over at Eames, Arthur muttered, "Asshole," under his breath. His gaze fell to Ariadne, sleeping peacefully in the chair next to Eames, a small smile on her lips. She was wearing a dark red scarf today, Arthur noticed she liked the color quite a lot and added that bit of information to his mental file on the Architect. Arthur caught himself smiling slightly at her sleeping form. Quickly erasing the smile off his smooth face, he turned around and poured himself a glass of water from the pitcher sitting on a nearby table.
He knew the risks of getting romantically involved with someone else in this line of work. Just look at Mal and Cobb. Theirs was a relationship badly spent, badly ended, and badly suffered afterwards. But Arthur couldn't help that every time he closed his eyes, he saw her. Every time her voice met his ears, butterflies filled his stomach, making him jittery and anxious. That every time he fell asleep, his mind always went back to that kiss, shared in a dream, such a long time ago.
Ariadne.
Her name brought a sigh to his lips. "How ironic a name," he thought absentmindedly. He let himself lean against the table, putting his hand on the surface, only for it to collide with something other than the table top. Arthur looked down, noticing the black sharpie under his hand. Grabbing it, he lifted it eye level. A slow, eerie smile slid across his face. If anyone had been in the warehouse (anyone conscious, anyway), they would have quickly made their way out. Because, frankly, that smile meant nothing but trouble.
~vOvOvOvOvOv~
Both Ariadne and Eames looked up when Arthur suddenly appeared on the rooftop with them. Eames chuckled at his flustered expression while Ariadne just turned back solemnly to look out over the cityscape again.
"Eames. What. The.Hell?" Arthur glared at him, arms crossed and suit slightly wrinkled. Eames only smiled at him. "Look who showed up. And how are you feeling, darling?"
Arthur continued to glare. "I swear to God, Eames, if you ever do that again –"
"You'll what, darling? Chastise me? Oh, you're far too fond of me to do any such thing," Eames said with a smirk, walking over and patting Arthur on the shoulder.
"No I'm not – I don't even like you!" Arthur said. "Whatever, darling. Just keep deluding yourself then," Eames called over his shoulder, "I think I'll skip out early if it's all the same to you. We've got," Eames started, looking down his watch, "Nearly two and a half minutes left, love. About thirty minutes down here and, darling, I just don't think I can stand here looking at your pretty face for that long without turning into jelly," He said, standing on the railing. Turning around to face Ariadne, "Remember what we talked about. And try not to worry so much." Looking again at Arthur, "Ta-Ta for now, darling," he said, winking. He then threw himself off the balcony.
"About time," Arthur said. "I thought we'd never be rid of him." He walked over to Ariadne and sat down, following her gaze out and over the city. Last he was here, they were warmed by mid-day sun and the projections had flooded the streets – leaving their various office buildings to go to lunch. It was now nearing sunset and he wondered if Ariadne liked sunsets, or maybe she was just sad. She certainly looked sad. Arthur realized he was staring and had been ever since he sat down, which was some moments ago. He quickly looked away and down at his shoes, the only things he could think to look at. They were quite interesting, his shoes.
Ariadne sensed his eyes on her. She was tired of pretending, tired of wishing that Arthur would step up, sweep her into his arms…
"What's wrong with me, Arthur?" Ariadne asked him unexpectedly. She turned her head and looked at him intently, sunlight spread out beautifully across her face. While his exterior remained calm and collected, not showing emotion, on the inside he was in turmoil. "Why does she have to be so beautiful?" Arthur internally asked himself. "Why can't something just be wrong with her, like she thinks?" He looked steadily back at her.
"Absolutely nothing," said Arthur answered truthfully. Ariadne's mouth formed a small smirk at his words. "You're lying," she said with a sorry smile. Arthur was taken aback. "No, really, I'm not ly-"
"Then why do you treat me like I'm nothing?"
She got up and briskly walked over to the railing. Arthur noticed that it was night. They had missed the sunset.
"Ariadne-" Arthur followed her to the railing. Stopping short just behind her.
"Just stop it, Arthur," her tongue curled around his name in a very pleasing way. He found himself wishing she said his name more often. "You know it's true, you treat me like a common co-worker and, if you really feel that way, I'll just drop it here." She turned to face him, her back to the city.
Arthur's face lost its usual steel and fell completely at the pitiful surrender in her voice. "Ariadne-"
"Please," she said, looking up at him, "Please just let me finish. Then you can go. I want you to know that I like you very much and, in fact, had a miniature heart attack when Eames threw you off the building earlier. And that happens to me every time I see you in danger, every time you have to draw your gun. I hate it. I hate what you do to me…" she gently pushed her fist against his chest. They were standing very close now and the city lights bouncing off Ariadne's hair was a spectacle all in itself.
"I know you don't feel the same way and I know I could never possibly breach the gap from me to you."
"Ariadne." Her hand now rested on his chest, right over his fast-beating heart.
"And I know I'm just some starving college kid."
"Ariadne." She had a look of rough determination. The feelings coursing through his body were indescribable. She… She had feelings for him. Impossible. Wonderful. Arthur knew he couldn't take much more of this.
"And I know you're this really professional, put-together guy and you couldn't possibly look at me like I look at you. That's why you've been acting like this for so lo-"
"Ari." She looked up with a silent gasp at this. The emotion in his voice, it was lovely. His face looked so… Happy. He was smiling the biggest smile she'd ever seen on him. (This wasn't really saying much, he didn't smile often, but it was a very big smile anyway.) "Slow down. Take a breath, Ari."
Ariadne realized she hadn't taken a breath through that whole statement, and she drew in a shaky one now, her eyes never leaving Arthurs.
He slowly, tentatively, wrapped his arms around her small body and brought her close to him. Hugging her tightly, Arthur rested his cheek on her head and breathed in the scent of her hair. She smelled of honeysuckle.
Ariadne pressed her face against his dark red silk tie. They matched. She smiled to herself. Breathing in the scent of him – men's cologne and pen ink – she noticed that her face was wet, realized she was crying, and then kissed the knot of his tie, right at the base of his throat.
Arthur looked down and smiled. When he saw her wet face, he dropped the smile and adopted a look of worried confusion. "Why are you crying," he asked gently.
"Don't you know?" Ariadne smiled up at him. And just like that the whole world fell away. There was no extraction, no Eames, no shared-dreaming, no memories. She was just Ariadne and he was just Arthur. They were just them, together.
Arthur leaned own, ever so slowly, and brought his lips down gently on hers.
Her hands went immediately to his face and neck. This was no chaste kiss like the one before, on the Fischer project. This was a whole new experience. Ariadne felt Arthur's strong hands trail along her back, pulling her ever closer to him. Arthur opened his eyes to find himself staring straight into Ariadne's. Being the sole object of a person's focus is always startling and Arthur felt Ariadne's mouth smile against his own. He kissed her harder, opening his mouth and capturing her lower lip, pulling slightly. Then he returned to kissing her fully, claiming her as his own again.
When they broke apart, he rested his forehead against hers. They were both gasping for breath and smiling like a couple of loons. Ariadne looked up.
"I love you, Ari." Arthur spoke in a hushed whisper, like a prayer, like the only thing that would save him.
He reached down and gently brushed the hair out of her face, placing it gracefully behind one ear.
Ariadne had never seen him so vulnerable and it broke her heart. The mask was off, ripped to shreds and Arthur himself, his very soul, was hers for the taking. Hers to pass judgment on. He was completely open to her.
"I love you, Arthur."
He smiled. This one outranking the last.
~vOvOvOvOvOv~
Eames blinked. He was… in a warehouse. "Ah, yes. The warehouse," He thought. Remembering himself, he looked over at Ariadne and Arthur, sleeping next to him.
They were both smiling. "What a cad," Eames said, smirking. He made his way to the washroom, passing a low table, noticing an uncapped sharpie laying next to a half-drank glass of water. His eyes passed over these objects, forgetting them as soon as he saw them.
Once relived, he couldn't help thinking of Yusef, on the Fischer job, making it rain. Eames chuckled to himself, then began whistling the tune to "Sweet Georgia Brown" as he made his way to the sinks to wash up.
He glanced in the mirror, looked down, picked up the soap and… dropped the soap. Eames slowly brought his eyes to the mirror again, willing it to somehow be a cruel trick of the light.
It wasn't.
His face had been plastered with sharpie ink. Starting at the chin, a tiny go-tee had been drawn, then a mustache on his top lips, curled up at the ends. A huge, goofy grin had been drawn over his mouth, making him look like some sort of demented Joker. Then a monocle on his right eye, complete with tiny chain going down his cheek, across his neck and under his shirt collar. And to top it all off, written in big, blocky lettering on his forehead was, HELLO. I'M A TOTAL DOUCHE.
He was going to kill Arthur.
Eames burst into the main room, saying, "All right, you bloody git! You had better be awake to defend yourself or I might just skin you alive here and now!"
He stopped when he saw them. Arthur was standing to the side of the lawn chairs with Ariadne in his arms. They were kissing with abandon.
Ariadne laughed out loud when she broke away and saw Eames standing there, fuming. "I love your new look, Eames! Good thinking, giving the ladies fair warning."
Arthur broke away with a small chuckle. Eames was not amused. "I thought we all agreed that these," he said, holding up a thick, black sharpie, "Were banned from the warehouse."
"Oops, that's mine." Ariadne said, walking over with a concerned blush rising up her neck and claiming her cheeks. She quickly grabbed the accursed marker and hid it deep in her pocket. "Sorry, Eames."
"Traitor," Eames muttered under his breath.
"Well, I'm not sorry one bit," said Arthur, once again capturing Ariadne's waist. "I quite like the fact that you brought a sharpie. It proved to be very beneficial to my day," he muttered, nibbling her ear.
Ariadne giggled and turned around. "I love you."
"I love you." Arthur smiled brightly down at her and kissed her forehead.
"Well I hate you both and hope you have a miserable time and then promptly fall down an elevator shaft," Eames said, gathering his things for the night.
"Love you, too, Eames," Ariadne called from Arthur's arms.
Eames walked out into the night, grumbling to himself all the way.
Pretty, pretty please comment? Comment or I'll make Ariadne fall in love with Myles…. Heh heh heh…