Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me. Copyright infringement is not intended.
A/N: One-Shot.
Warning: I have mild dyslexia and dyscalculia. There may be small grammatical errors and large mathematical ones.
Summary: Arthur was sweet. Dom was intense. They were both assholes. And she didn't know which was worse. Arthur/Ariadne/Dom.
Feel For It
Twenty-two, and Arthur had been her first kiss.
He said he "had to try". She wondered if he'd ever been with a woman before. He could kiss, but she also knew that he was with Dom. Arthur flew out to Dom's place after every mission, and was pretty obvious about the attraction between them when not on the job. He was the epitome of professional on the job, which didn't surprise her at all. First impressions and all that, but he'd impressed her.
Dom left a more lasting, darker impression, but so much more intense. She knew his demons, at least the darkest of them, and had encouraged him to fight them.
Eames was oblivious to the sexual tension. Yusuf had left, hadn't kept in touch; one Inception was enough for him in a lifetime. Ariadne didn't blame him, even if the Dreaming had gotten her hooked. Most jobs were a lot less extreme then her first one – and likely always would be –, but she understood. Not everyone could let and have the thrill eclipse the worst of the danger, and sometimes money wasn't enough.
Arthur was sweet. Dom was intense. They were both assholes. And she didn't know which was worse.
They wanted her to join them; that much was obvious. Ariadne wasn't quite sure about a trigamous relationship, but Arthur had very gently explained things. Dom, on the other hand, had been very passionate about it all, almost so much that he had driven her off. She wasn't sure she could handle the force of his personality on a long-term basis – and wasn't sure that she should. Ariadne was nothing if not logical under fire. That's why this scared her.
It transcended logic and went into emotion. The thrill, the drive for creation, she desperately understood, but this was more than that. She'd have to balance two distinctly different men, and wasn't certain she could handle it. Ariadne wasn't a Libra; she could not balance things on opposite, constantly tipping ends. She was an Architect, and she wasn't sure she could set a solid foundation on this one.
It was, naturally, unsettling.
Arthur had gentleness to his firm resolve. Dom was all hard edges, the blade of a knife. Mostly, Ariadne wasn't sure she could handle Dom – and it was obvious that the two were a package deal. They'd obviously been together before Dom's issues with Mal had been – mostly, because there would always be lingering issues and 'what if's in the air – resolved, and that said a lot. She didn't know where she fit in.
She needed to get a feel for it.
She loved Dom's kids – don't get her wrong –, but she didn't know if she could play Mommy either, and certainly didn't want to usurp Mal's place and ghost in family life. She didn't even know if she could play Auntie; Ariadne had no experience with kids – whatsoever. It would be a steep learning curve, kids in the mix or not.
Architecture was about creation and precision, even in the Dreaming all nice and tidy lines, except for some of the more symbolic dreams. They'd had to do one like that, as she only had symbolic dreams, and it had frightened her how much they'd had to leave to the woman's interpretation. Luckily, the woman had been smart and they'd gotten the job done. But like that mission this wasn't neat and tidy, and there was enough history that she could interpret so many things wrongly. Ariadne wasn't a dancer and couldn't find a way to move to the beat. She didn't know this beat.
She didn't know where she fit in.
Ariadne loved bending the laws of reality in the Dreaming, loved bending things, but she wasn't certain that she wouldn't bend too far and make something snap. Not like in the Dreaming, where the only real snap was the Push. She could bend things; Ariadne didn't like to break them. And Ariadne wasn't sure that, if something snapped, she could walk away knowing she'd broken it. Oh she wouldn't break Dom and Arthur, never that, they were too strong, but the things she could break with them was worrying. Mostly, Ariadne didn't know.
She wasn't certain that she could take that leap of faith.
"I was an Architect too, you know," Dom said softly, arms around her and head on her shoulder. "Still am, in the non-Dreaming sense. Think of Arthur as the foundation and build on that. You don't have to be our rock, Ariadne."
"You're hard enough," she smiled.
"Yes, I'm hard enough," he agreed, smiling but serious. "Help me redesign the house to our will. There will be ups and downs, but this will be easier than you think. You already have a place with us; you don't need to build one. Just show us what you want for the interior and we'll see it done."
"You're a smart woman, Ariadne, but you're thinking too much," Arthur told her, taking her hands in his. They had the gun calluses that she was only now getting. Guns were familiar; never safe, but familiar. Familiar she could do. "Feel."
Could she? This was a loaded gun. Could she spin the wheel and win? How many bullets were there in the six-shooter? Three, she decided; 50/50 chance. Familiar, but far from safe. Emotional safety wasn't assured; this was swimming in high tide. Would she regret it if she didn't try? Would she regret it if she did?
Arthur kissed her. Dom kissed her neck. Dom Cobb was Heroine. In comparison, Arthur was Klonopin; steady, assured.
A leap of faith.
"Feel, Ariadne," Arthur reminded, breaking the kiss. She panted.
She breathed a whisper.
"Yes."
One-Shot.