This is a response to this prompt on the Inception Kink Meme ~ Cobb rushing over to Eames' place for some important reason (don't ask me why he couldn't just phone... too dangerous or something? A job or whatever...) and he barges in to find Arthur at Eames' table, or on his sofa, just in boxers and Eames' t-shirt, hair all a mess, eating cheerio's.
"Sure, you can drop the papers off at mine – I might not be there, so make yourself comfortable. D'you remember where I said I was staying?"
Cobb could remember the phone conversation with Eames as clearly as if it was being played aloud on speakers, but it still didn't explain why it was necessary. Researching marks, finding photos and information for Eames to produce his forgeries from...that wasn't really Cobb's job. That was why they had Arthur.
Looking at the folder in his hands, Cobb wondered if the font he had used was appropriate. Infact, he began to wonder what font could be appropriate for information on a man whose mind they were going to be invading a week or so later. Calibri looked nice, if maybe a bit too rounded. Too friendly.
Arthur hadn't answered his phone for the whole of yesterday afternoon. Cobb wasn't angry at him; it had been the scheduled afternoon off (infact, he felt guilty about intending to ask Arthur to do some research in his free time). It was just very unlike Arthur to have his phone turned off, let alone to not answer it.
Cobb reached the address that Eames had given him – and it was very Eames indeed. The part of town wasn't the friendliest, there were several bars and clubs nearby (for "people watching", Eames said) and the loft itself seemed like it belonged in a broken down, charismatic corner of London.
After a few flights of stairs and avoiding a conversation with an old lady who seemed determined to warn Cobb off of something (he spoke very little French, all of Mal's effort put in to teaching him having been in vain) he found the right door number, and groped around on the thin ledge of the doorframe for the key.
Eames had told the truth without any embellishments for once (the key was indeed on the ledge above his door, not the one three doors to the left), and Cobb opened the door and stepped inside, once again examining his chosen font.
"Hey, Eames? D'you think Calibri is okay for-"
There was a choking noise.
Cobb looked up, alarmed at the spluttering and coughing. This alarm turned to a mixture of shock and bewilderment when he saw Arthur sat on the sofa with a bowl of cereal in nothing but boxers. Cobb blinked, rubbing his eyes. The Point Man looked...suspiciously happy, for someone so uncharacteristically rumpled.
Arthur, who had one hand to his throat and was making noises like a dying car, quickly got to his feet – spilling the cereal – obviously desperate to explain why he was in such a state, but unable to do so because of the Cheerio lodged in his throat. He began resorted to hand gestures and frantic headshaking.
"Hello hello, what do we..." Eames' voice sounded from the doorway behind Cobb, the cheeriness switching to confusion mid-sentence. "...have here? Arthur, love, what're you doing?"
If Arthur had been able to speak, he would have said (in a very dignified way) that he was "Turning blue, you jackass." For indeed he was.
"Oh shit, he's actually choking." Eames dropped the plastic bags of shopping he had in each hand, pushing Cobb forwards, rushing over to begin to apply the Heimlich manoeuvre.
After a tense twenty seconds, where all Cobb felt qualified to do was pat Arthur on the back, the offending Cheerio flew out of Arthur's mouth and on to the floorboards.
The three men looked at it for a moment as Arthur gasped for air. Then a silence fell like a curtain and they had nothing to do but to glance at each other and quickly look away again.
Eames was the first to break it, a smirk with a matching chuckle spreading his lips as his Heimlich manoeuvre grip turned in to a from-behind hug. He set his chin on Arthur's shoulder, lowering his voice to a teasing purr.
"Y'know, the way we're stood now isn't all too dissimilar to how it was last night..."
Arthur shut his eyes, and from the way his lips were moving he seemed to be counting to ten. Nope, too long to be counting to ten, and there was still that angry twitch in his eyebrow. Must have been twenty.
Cobb seemed to finally find his voice, and like Eames, he was amused. "You look kind of mussed-up, Arthur. Like you've fallen out of being stuck in the closet for a while."
Arthur's face had gone from breathless blue to a searing red.
"That's why he's so pale." Eames grinned, delighting in watching Arthur squirm. "It must be dark in the closet. Glad he's finally made his way out of there."
"Yeah. But he managed to lose his clothes?" Cobb asked in innocent, mock-confusion.
"Oh yeah. That would be my fault." Eames sighed. "I was the one pulling him out of the closet. Practically by the-"
"I hate you both." Arthur mumbled, wriggling out of Eames' grasp and snatching the file from Cobb's hands. "Next time I'll do the bloody research-"
He paused.
"You used Calibri, Cobb? Really?"