Fandom/Pairing: Inception / Eames x Arthur
Disclaimer: They're Nolan's.
Warnings: Spoilers?
Overall Rating: G / K+
Author's Note: Yep. I shipped it. Obviously, if you haven't seen the movie this isn't going to make much sense.
Unstable
Arthur was a man who prided himself in remaining calm and sensible, no matter the situation he was in. It was a skill he considered vital when one worked with something as unpredictable as dreams. It was one of the traits that made him so reliable. The inception of Fischer, however, was a little different. Certainly not outwardly noticeable, but he had been left rather shaken during certain events of the assignment.
Aside from the obvious uncertainty over performing a job that he had never before attempted, there were smaller troubles that seemed exponentially more difficult to adapt to. He was becoming increasingly uncomfortable with the large number of team-mates they had acquired. Or team-mate, to be exact. The Forger. Eames.
At first he didn't pay the other man much attention, but the forger quickly grew to enjoy teasing him in small ways throughout the work day. Prodding fun at the point man's diligent work ethic, tipping the younger man's chair back, purposely watching while he tested the kick's efficiency under the influence of sedative; all while wearing that curling smile of amusement. Looking down at the older man now, the smile looks a little wider, a bit crooked, and Arthur isn't sure if the question was asked out of sincerity or if it was another attempt to catch him off guard.
Dark brown eyes glanced around the hotel room, carefully examining the four unconscious bodies lay scattered about, then dropped back down to the floor, where blue eyes looked up at him in question.
"For luck?" The younger man asked.
"That's what I said, yes." The older agreed.
Arthur got to the ground, hand grabbing another cord to hold carefully near Eames' arm as he leaned over, lips pressing awkwardly to the other man's. The rasp of the older man's stubble was unfamiliar; their lips not quite fitting together right and neither man particularly caring. It only lasted a couple seconds before Arthur pulled himself away and returned to preparing the needle.
"Are you wearing lip gloss?" Eames asked, tongue tasting his lips and eyebrows drawn into a confused frown.
The younger man huffed lightly, recalling the moment when he told Ariadne to kiss him. "Perhaps you weren't the only one to ask for a good-night kiss." He pushed the needle into the blue vein beneath the sensitive skin. He allowed a small, self-satisfied smirk to grace his features as the other man's eyes widened in shock before drooping down and closing with sleep.
He gave himself a second to enjoy having the last word, then turned and began preparations for the kick.
