A.N- This is a blanket author's note. There is also a blanket disclaimer, too. I just finished posting on AO3. I don't own either Inception or Mary Poppins. I had a lot of fun writing, so please enjoy!
People wouldn't know it from looking at him, but Arthur came from a very special bloodline. Arthur, while not looking particularly average or even outstanding (though a certain forger might have something to say about that), came from a line of specifically skilled individuals.
They were indispensable, prompt, rule-abiding, sometimes taskmasters, but always remembered for their charm, though they often were mistaken as either stuffy or sticks in the mud.
Unless they had seen it for themselves, not a soul would believe that Arthur's last name was Poppins. That the traits that made a Poppins an exemplary nanny actually skipped a generation, and that Arthur, who had always known the family secret, had thought that his oldest sister (who was kind, but firm, and could marshal and command an entire troop of children with a smile and promise of sweets for jobs well done) would have received the Poppins trait.
But Arthur had been wrong, and his parents had noticed the earliest signs well before Arthur could formulate an opinion against becoming a magical nanny; like how when he was a toddler Arthur would play patty cake with his image in the mirror, the reflection behaving like another, identical Arthur. Or how Arthur had an untrained but excellent singing voice that allowed objects to move at his melodic command. But when he was older, Arthur, then a sulky and pubescent teen, had argued with his grandmother about following the family calling.
"I don't-"
"Pish posh," his grandmother said, reaching out and smoothing his hair back. "It's not a matter of want. It's your calling. You have skills that are perfect for looking after others, Arthur."
"And changing diapers and wiping noses and reading stories to ungrateful little children," Arthur groaned. "Grandmother, I don't want to do it! Why can't I become what I want to be? Maybe something that isn't so girly?"
His grandmother raised an eyebrow at him, imperious, commanding. "Being a nanny isn't girly, Arthur Poppins."
"I sang to my vacuum and it took care of the carpet for me," Arthur said slowly. "I sang to it. There weren't even words, I just started humming and then it happened!"
"You're a natural," his grandmother proclaimed. Tugging her grandson in for a hug, she muffled his complaints, because Arthur always had many, many complaints when they spoke of the Poppins gifts.
Face smushed against his grandmother's chest, Arthur mumbled, "My window was open and a bird flew in and sang along with me."
"But that's lovely!"
"It crapped on the floor, too. Am I supposed to say that's lovely?"
Grandmother Poppins gave him a stern look, squeezing his shoulders and reassuring him that everything would be fine. "You'll grow into it, Arthur."
And Arthur grew up, eventually moving away from home, joining the military in an attempt to escape the dominantly feminine aspects of the family gift. Arthur wanted to be a soldier, proving his mettle and strength, fighting for his country, and purposely not singing or cleaning or looking after children.
But after he became involved in Project Somnacin, he felt he'd finally found his niche- that it was far enough away from the future and skills his grandmother had promised him he'd grow into and closer to what he imagined for himself which had been a blurry anything but what grandmother said.
That sort of definition gave Arthur plenty of leeway- he'd tried being a soldier; but after being in that experimental program, he'd taken to dreamshare and seen all the blurry ideas about his future suddenly become clear- he could go anywhere, do anything, as long as he had the PASIV.
So he stole it.
He wished he wasn't surprised when his grandmother managed to call him on the special burner phone he'd gotten so he'd be able to drop off the grid and hide from the military.
It said something about the willpower of his grandmother that she'd been able to do what the US Military couldn't.
"Arthur, I'm very disappointed in you!"
Though Arthur was a grown man now, skilled in several forms of combat and known for his ability not to flinch in the face of the most horrifying dreams, the sound of his grandmother's voice made him remember what it felt like to be small and young and only wanting her approval.
"Grandmother, I can't do what you want me to do. I can't- no, I won't be a nanny! Special Poppins traits, be damned!"
He could practically feel her disapproval from over the phone; it was tangible and manifested itself as a prickling sensation across the back of his neck.
Then he heard her sigh. His grandmother didn't often give up, or lose hope. She often managed to find some way to get things done properly. After all, when measured she was Mary Poppins, practically perfect in every way. Arthur wasn't so sure what he'd be measured as; there may be swears included next to the name of Arthur Poppins because he'd disappointed her.
"You've always been the most independent of my grandchildren. But I don't think this chapter of your life is closed. Please be safe, darling."
Arthur worked in dreamshare and made a name for himself. He was the best.
Arthur was the best point man. He got to spend several years of his life working his dream job; it had nothing to do with caring for children.
But it appeared that even as he worked his dream job, he was drawn into the world he'd fled, the destiny he had tried to ignore.
Even when he met the Cobbs and worked with them for awhile, it took him awhile to develop relationships with their children. Aware of the skills he possessed, Arthur became famous for raising up his empty hands and quickly saying, "No, no please, wouldn't you rather someone else hold the baby?"
The answer was usually no. Despite his best efforts of masking it, Arthur was excellent with children. And from the Cobbs pleasant home in California, Arthur was certain he could feel the quiet triumph of his dear grandmother on the other side of the planet. Arthur rocked, fed, played with, and changed babies, silently telling himself that this meant nothing. That he wasn't a nanny!
And then Mal committed suicide and the axis of Arthur's world shifted place, forcing him to take on an entirely different job that didn't relate to the Cobbs growing, now motherless, babies, but focused on Arthur's diligent care of Dominic Cobb as he circled the globe and struggled to come up with a way back home in light of the damning evidence Mal had left behind.
Cobb was just unobservant enough that he didn't notice when Arthur's family gifts began to encroach on Arthur's neatly ordered, dream criminal lifestyle.
When Cobb was broken by grief, Arthur would have to force Cobb to do even the most basic things. He'd have to force Cobb to change his clothes, chide him for living like a slob, and really put his foot down when the man's drinking became unhealthy. But the worst had to be Cobb's sleeplessness.
The man would stare up at the ceiling in a disturbing fashion. And when they had to share beds because of poor accommodations explained away in several languages that boiled down to "from the nurturing and kind way you dragged the blonde man in here, we thought that you were a couple. You're not? Because if you're not a couple you must be very codependent. Or he treats you like his personal nanny!" It wasn't an exact quote or translation, but that was the gist of it.
Arthur always cringed at the last part, because he thought he'd moved on from that. He was able to wave off the comment about them being a couple because there were only so many assumptions that could be made when Arthur had to do so much for Cobb to ensure his survival.
So when Cobb would stare at the ceiling, Arthur wouldn't be able to help himself. He'd sing to himself very softly. His grandmother's favorite songs for sleep, the ones he remembered her singing to him when he was a child. As Arthur continued, just as soft, just as mellow, Cobb's eyes began to flutter and unintentionally shut. Cobb would drop to sleep within minutes and then roll over and cuddle Arthur.
Arthur would silently hate himself and then either very firmly tell Cobb the next morning that he was sleeping on the floor for his back, or resolve to come up with a better argument for the hotel owners that believed he and Cobb were a couple; maybe something that translated better than a simple no. Maybe hell no, you would have to kill me first, this man cuddles.
When he met Eames, things became difficult. His grandmother, bless her, didn't often tell her grandson about her husband, Bert. Arthur never met him, his mother never met him; at a certain point of his life, Arthur had been certain that Bert was just a made up, dreamed up man that his grandmother said was her husband, and that was all. Because when Arthur was a very little boy, he'd not believed his grandmother when she would talk about all the fun things she and Bert had done. His grandmother couldn't possibly do fun things like jumping into chalk drawings or dance and sing on rooftops! Grandmother Mary was firm and liked rules, and when Arthur grew up a little he could understand how he'd not understood that the fun and the rules sometimes mixed.
That it wasn't at all fair to say his grandmother wasn't fun just because she had a hard job that forced her to come up with entertaining ways of getting those in her care to listen to her. And once again, once he was older, Arthur began to see the parallel. While he'd been sort of frightened of James and Phillipa when they were babies, he learned to love them because of their personalities and the way they'd look at him adoringly, even if he forced them to eat their vegetables or clean their rooms. Arthur's caring for Cobb wasn't all that different- Cobb also wasn't so awful, even if Arthur had to tell Cobb to shut the fuck up at 3 a.m. because they had to sleep and then get out of the country in the morning.
He was getting away from himself. What he meant was that his grandfather, whom he never knew but he could now believe in a little bit more because he was older and wiser and couldn't find a better explanation for why Grandmother Mary had his mother. Not wanting to open up that kind of a can of worms, Arthur was willing to believe his grandmother's stories of Bert.
When Arthur was very young and not so dead set on never ever becoming a nanny, Arthur could imagine that Bert had been an amazing guy. He'd been funny, creative, and charming. Responsible when it counts, but also very insightful, too!
And when Arthur met Eames, he'd had a horrible sinking feeling that not only was he fulfilling his grandmother's beliefs of what he was supposed to be in life, but that they also had a similar type.
Because Eames was artistic and charming, funny, too! He was just the right mix of responsible and renegade, a fellow deserter from another PASIV oriented project, who left because he didn't agree with what use the technology was being put to. Never mind that Eames was using the same technology to steal information from others!
"Hello, darling," Eames had said, shaking hands with Arthur, but giving him such a look. A look like that could last for days. If Arthur were honest, he replayed that look in his mind over the course of that job, ignoring Cobb until the man finally became aware enough of what they were doing and what was at stake to ask Arthur why the hell was he taking so long in the shower?
The only difference between Eames and Arthur's grandfather was their professions. Eames, dream thief and forger, may have been an artist at one point. Or he could have dabbled in it for money. Or maybe he honestly loved it and kept it separate from his work for a reason.
Arthur's grandfather had been the type of artist to choose a nice spot on the streets and begin creating a beautiful world that would only seem two-dimensional on the pavement, but was really a wonderful place that was accessible if you think, wink, double blink, and then jump! Whenever grandmother would tell those stories, Arthur would wish he could do the same, to really jump into the scenes he loved best. Bert was also a musician. And, of course, the last was the one thing that grandmother Mary always mentioned with a sad smile.
"Arthur, your grandfather was a fine chimney sweep."
He only learned what happened to Bert when he was old enough to understand that unlike all the other magical parts of her stories, chimney sweep accident only meant that Bert had jumped in and not made it to the other side of anything.
That the only thing he'd done was hit the bottom and not come back.
But why bring it up at all? Arthur had never met the man, and knew that his grandmother missed him.
If Arthur were being honest with himself, he'd say that he was hopelessly attracted to Eames (that he liked working with him, talking with him, and had spent much personal time thinking about him) but didn't see how he could make a relationship work, especially with his history and his family. Cobb's dependence upon him deserved its own category, so for many years as he followed after the extractor Arthur had enough reasons to not indulge in the idea of anything with Eames. Because deep in his heart, for as many times as he clenched his fist and swore the oath to never, ever become a nanny, he also had another oath about not setting himself up for disappointment.
And then the Fischer job happened. They completed an inception, and Cobb got to go home to his children, leaving Arthur free to take on whatever jobs he wanted, without seeing to the care and well-being of Cobb.
What happened next was inevitable.