Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Inception or the characters. The plot, however sad and messed up is all mine. Enjoy, and reviews are soul food!

-Libby

Snow white

Eames knows he's been in the bathroom too long. His body shivers involuntarily as he wipes the residue white power from under his nose, and rubs it on his top gums.

It'll be about ten minutes until the drug takes effect, but he waits in delicious anticipation for the euphoria he knows will wash over his entire body.

Arthur used to think Eames just had severe ADHD, but over the years, he's come to recognize the signs that Eames is using again. He's always been a restless person, but when he's on the blow, he's much more irritable, can't stand still for longer than a minute, and smokes like a chimney. Arthur's had to break up more bar fights from Eames on coke than he likes to think about.

Arthur watches Eames out of the corner of his eye; the man's obsessively running his poker chip totem across his large knuckles and is rocking just the slightest bit. Arthur tells Cobb and Ariadne that the forger's just had too much coffee. Eames rewards him with a smile just a little too big.

Eames can't stop sweating, it's like his body's been set over a low flame. Whenever this happens, he knows he should lessen up on the snow.

When Eames can't stop tapping his foot in the most annoying rhythm known to man, Arthur knows it's time to take him back to the hotel. Internally, Eames is a little steamed that Arthur's interrupted the beautiful symphony playing in his head, but his mood flips when he imagines Arthur does this so they can have an afternoon quickie. "You sly dog," Eames says, grinning at Arthur, "if you wanted a roll in the hay, it would have been much more exciting back at the warehouse." Arthur grimaces and doesn't say a word until they're upstairs in his suite.

Once they're safely inside the room, Arthur forces Eames to sit on the bed. The blond man chuckles, bouncing his knee and upsetting the neatness of the bedspread. Arthur makes a mental note that Eames has lost some weight, and as much as he despises himself for thinking it, the older man looks good.

Arthur knows he needs to be the one to break the silence, "why are you back on it?" He asks in a voice that displays more resignation than anger.

Eames chuckles, "I was getting a little soft around the edges, I knew this would help." Arthur is disgusted with himself that Eames caught his glance of appreciation.

"Well, Eames, that doesn't explain all the other times. I thought you quit for good last time." What Arthur really means is why aren't I enough for you?

Eames shoots him a sickening grin, all teeth and no heart, and he hates himself inside, because he knows what Arthur is going to ask next.

"Why do you keep coming back to it?" Arthur questions. Eames takes a deep breath.

"Because I need it. You just can't understand how it makes me feel. You'll just have to take my word for it Darling, or you could try it yourself..." Eames wishes more than anything, that he wants to steal the words back once they leave his mouth; he doesn't. Instead, he is carefully watching a thousand emotions play across Arthur's face, and feels a mix of happiness and disgust rolling around in the pit of his stomach.

Arthur never says a word as Eames pulls a small plastic baggie out of his pocket and dumps the contents on the glass counter of the hotel bureau. He takes out a credit card, and proceeds to cut the powder until it's silky smooth under his fingertips. Eames feels giddy (or maybe sick) inside. His second love is finally going to try his first love.

Eames holds out a hundred dollar bill and winks as Arthur takes the proffered snorting apparatus. Arthur takes the crisp hundred, rolls it, and places it vertically up his right nostril. He's seen Eames do this enough times that he thinks he'll probably be a natural. Arthur presses his left index finger against his left nostril, effectively blocking the passageway and takes a deep breath. The instant he feels the powder shoot up his nose, he wishes he'd never gone through with it. Eames isn't worth destroying his nose over.

"Just think how much slimmer you'll make those three piece suits of yours," Eames chimes from the corner. Arthur ignores him, instead focusing on the painful feeling inside his nose. His body wants to sneeze out the foreign substance, but he can't.

"Well, this definitely wasn't worth it." Arthur comments, turning back to Eames. The older Brit just looks at him, a knowing smile on his face. Eames is never quite sure when a first timer will feel the effects of the drug, but he recognizes right away when Arthur's pupils dilate and a soft smile sweeps over Arthur's lips. "Wow," is all Arthur says, Eames knows exactly how he feels. The first time is always the best time. That's the feeling he chases every time he snorts a line. Eames doesn't say a word, merely walks over and kisses the man he loves.

Arthur and Eames take fewer jobs, and only the ones that pay the most. Between the two of them, they are invincible. Ariadne and Cobb couldn't stop staring at the men who have become carbon copy skeletons, so the two men have stopped visiting anyone from the Inception team. Nosebleeds have become a frequent problem, but Arthur keeps enough tissues in his pockets for both of them.

Arthur's once perfectly fitted suits now hang off of his body in sheets of matching fabric. He hasn't eaten in three days, and although he's not hungry, he has a vague recollection that this can't be good for his body.

"I think we're dying," Arthur states on a Thursday. Eames barely looks up from the powder he's melting in a spoon over a Bunsen burner.

"It doesn't matter Luv." Eames reassures him, readying the Meth.

"Why doesn't it matter?" Arthur asks, the answer to this riddle is long forgotten.

"Because we'll be together." Eames shoots Arthur a rotting smile, and injects the drug into his left arm. The track marks in his skin resemble painful old scars. Later he breaks one of Arthur's ribs in a tight hug.

-End-