Written on a whim. Don't even know why, but the idea's pretty cute... and I can see Arthur being a _ person. Won't say anything else ;)

Enjoy!

The Next Best Thing

"I always wanted kids," Arthur says one day, elbows on his knees, hands clasped as he sits in Cobb's living room, watching Phillipa teach James how to properly play with dolls.

Cobb raises an eyebrow. He's always known Arthur to be partial to children, his devotion to Phillipa and James proves it, but… "So why didn't you? You and Marianna seemed like such a sure thing," he pauses and takes a swig of his beer, following Arthur's gaze to settle on his children.

Arthur sighs and rolls his shoulders, leaning back into the red leather chair and rubbing the lace armrest cover thoughtfully, "Did I ever tell you why we broke up?"

"Nah. That was just a couple months after we'd met – you said that your futures weren't matching up, but I didn't think it was my place to press for more back then."

Arthur grins a bit, ruefully, "And now it is?"

"Hell yeah."

Arthur's grin widens for a moment and then drops back down to zero, careful, neutral, "She wanted kids. With me."

Cobb stares, uncomprehending, but certain that Arthur will elaborate his cryptic phrase.

Arthur's gaze lingers on Phillipa, on her hands poised bossily on her hips as she says, "Jamie, you're doing it wrong, you have to hold her this way or else you'll pull her hair and she'll be sad!"

"I don't think I've told anyone other than my parents and Marianna this, but… I'm sterile."

Cobb blinks, as if it takes him a second to register what Arthur has said, and then he whistles lowly, "Shit, man. How did that happen?"

Arthur shrugs, arms crossing and then quickly uncrossing again, as if unsure of how to best portray nonchalance, "Congenital. I was simply born with it."

"I'm sorry," Cobb says quietly, sincerely, brows furrowed and understanding, better than anyone, how painful that would be. He offers him his beer, and Arthur takes it, taking a small sip, and then hands it back. Cobb speaks carefully, "So what, Marianna didn't want a sperm donor, then?"

"Unfortunately," there is a lot of pain and regret in that one word, muffled and wrapped carefully in the blanket of time, but Cobb hears it clearly nonetheless, "The children wouldn't be ours," Arthur glances to the side, meeting Cobb's eyes for a split second, and smiles, the expression sad, but graceful, elegant, like everything Arthur does, "Phillipa and James help a lot. It's the closest I'll ever get to having my own children. They mean a lot to me, you know."

"I know," Cobb murmurs. The silence stretches out for a few minutes, amidst the clock ticking and the birds chirping outside and the neighbor's lawnmower, and most importantly, James's giggles as Phillipa tells him some elaborate story that sounds like an underwater version of Snow White. Cobb shifts, crossing his legs, and takes another sip of his beer. Arthur glances at him, and Cobb passes it to him. Arthur takes a larger swig this time, rolling the bitter taste in his mouth. He's more of a wine fellow, which is why he usually refuses Cobb's offers of beer, but sometimes it doesn't really matter what it is. Cobb watches him nurse it for a while, until there's hardly any left, and then stands up and goes into the kitchen, coming back with two more beers and handing one of them to Arthur.

Cobb sits back down, fingers wrapping around the condensation-slick bottleneck and asks, "Why now?"

Arthur purses his lips, "I realized I'd never told you."

"You didn't have to," Cobb points out gently.

The look Arthur tosses back at him clearly says, You dolt, of course I did.

When Arthur's birthday comes around, they celebrate it at Cobb's house, because, well. Everything is always at Cobb's house. James and Phillipa look like they're about to burst at the seams, giggling to themselves and repeatedly telling Arthur that they have a fantasticamazing surprise for him. Cobb looks downright devious, giving him the biggest shit-eating grin Arthur's ever seen on him.

"You ready?"

Arthur rolls his eyes, "Just give it to me."

Cobb's eyebrows rise in amusement, hands on his hips, "Alright, you asked for it—"

Before Arthur can retort that as a matter of fact, he asked for nothing this year, Cobb opens the door to the guest bedroom, and the children squeal in delight.

A little golden retriever bounds out, all slimy saliva and shiny, soft hair and skidding paws and bright eyes and a tongue lolling out of his mouth as he circles them and pants, pawing at their legs and then running a few more circles around them and repeating the process all over again.

Arthur feels a little dizzy with shock.

"So?"

He looks up at Cobb's expectant face and finally says, "I think you're mistaking me for your son."

Cobbs face falls slightly and he pouts, "Arthur—"

"I mean, a dog? My apartment's not exactly dog-friendly, and I've never had one. I'm not sure I'm the most reliable person—"

"You're the epitome of reliability!"

Arthur ignores him, "And what are we going to do with it when we get a job?"

"The same thing we do with Phillipa and James. We leave them to my mother-in-law."

"Dom—"

Cobb takes his shoulders and looks at him, "You said you wanted kids. I think this is the closest you'll be able to get. Well, in a sense," he adds.

Arthur's breath leaves him momentarily, and he looks down at the little golden bar of fur that James is trying to pet—though it's more like a clumsy thunk of his hands as he drags them awkwardly along the wiggling animal, but it's too busy licking Phillipa's shrieking face to care about James 'gentle' petting.

A puppy. He'd thought Cobb was crazy, but … when he tries to think of it as something to raise and love and have in his home, the idea doesn't seem so unappealing. He knows of so many people that come to think of their pets as their children…

Maybe…it could work?

Cobb's grip falters at Arthur's continued silence and dumbfounded expression, and he bites his lip, "I'm sorry, I just thought—I mean, I know it's not the same thing, but I thought maybe—"

Arthur's lips curl slowly into a small distant smile, "Dom, you're fine. I think… I think I'll like it," he bends down, holding his hand out, and the pup catches sight of it and leaps to him, eager and curious. It sniffs his hand thoroughly, dragging a cold wet nose through his skin that's then followed by a series of quick insistent licks and leaves Arthur's hand kind of… slimy. Arthur's nose wrinkles, but it's unbearably cute. The pup then decides to nip his finger, digging one pointy, brand new baby canine into his pinkie.

"Ouch!" he snaps his hand away, returning it to pat the pup once on the head, and it scampers back into James's arms. Arthur stands up, inspecting his pinkie, and looks at Cobb's expectant face.

"He's going to be a pain," Arthur says wryly.

Cobb smiles then, knowing he's won the battle, "Well, you know, no one ever said children are easy."

Arthur laughs, watching the pup bark and run circles around Phillipa, wrestling with one of her rag dolls, "I think I have the perfect name for him."

Cobb grins, raising an eyebrow in anticipation. Arthur smirks, and if it weren't Arthur one would say he looked positively evil.

"I think I'll name him Eames."

You KNOW I had to have him name the dog that. It's just perfect.