Title: Of Flour & Men

Disclaimer: I don't own Inception.

Notes: Got the idea off FreekyDisaster18's Hot Cross Bun ff :)

:) Please review if you like it/have suggestions on how to improve it.

PRESENT

'You do know cupcakes are not remotely similar to buildings, right?'

'Yeah, I did manage that particular bit of logic when I was six, now can you-'

'I'm much better at this'

'Eames, stop being difficult and give me the icing tube'

'Why?'

'Because I said so!'

'Nope'

'But you are not achieving anything'

'You will?'

'Yes!'

'These are my ones; therefore I can decorate them how I please'

'But-'

'For God's sake!' Ariadne shouted, and the two men froze, looking at the woman who had her hands on her hips. 'Honestly, James is better behaved than you two combined'

'Haha! Daddy and Uncles Eames got told off' James giggled, and Phillipa grinned at the so-called adults.

'It's not me, it's him' Cobb said dusting the surface top with flour gently, and Eames scoffed.

'So grown up Dad' Phillipa said sarcastically, smirking.

Cobb had thought that he would teach James and Phillipa (who knew more because of school) the art of baking. Ariadne had jumped at the chance to help and Eames dropped in at the right time. James had run into Eames for a hug as he turned up with the force of Apollo 9, nearly knocking the man over. 'Easy kiddo, I'm not as young as I used to be' to which James said 'You said you liked my hugs!' and Eames had to wind his way back into James' good book. As far as the baking was concerned, they hadn't got that far. They had finished a batch of cupcakes and Phillipa wanted to decorate them. Eames had taken control of a tray of cupcakes all to himself, and was decorating them, but when he took Cobb's one, his patience snapped.

'Be good and say sorry' Phillipa smirked, and Cobb didn't know when they girl had developed this superiority complex.

'Phillipa'

'Dad' she mimicked, sticking her tongue out and laughing. He grinned at her.

'We're getting nowhere' he sighed, looking around the group. Eames held out the tube of red icing, but sniffed. Cobb rolled his eyes at the childishness.

'Honestly? Right, James you okay over there?' and his son nodded, smiling happily. He had green and black swirls that mounted a good few inches above the cupcake. Cobb took back possession of his own cupcake and carried on.

'You know, the pair of you remind me of two boys across the flats from me' Ariadne said shaking her head, an amused expression apparent on her features.

'Do I want to know how?' Cobb asked.

'Oh they get into little tiffs all the time. But it never lasts long'

'There's something relaxing about this, but I don't know what' Eames commented, inspecting his own creation.

Cobb had been reading the recipe for the different cookie mixes, if he had been paying more attention to what was going on around him he would have realised the chain of events better. Cobb looked up, to ask Ariadne to pass the spatula beside her, when James spoke up.

'Uncle Eames!' and Cobb should have noticed the mischievous glint in his son's eyes. Eames turned his attention to James, who aimed and threw a handful of the spare cake mix. Eames ducked, and but Cobb wasn't so lucky. The mix hit his shoulder, seeping through his shirt it slid and stuck.

'Uh oh' James said, his mouth dropping open.

Cobb made a face, pulling at his shirt. Luckily he had thought something like this would happen, so he had worn an old shirt that had taken many a battering. Ariadne was biting her lip, stifling her laughter; Phillipa was giggling but trying to tell James off.

'At least we know you can throw well' he said winking to James who look less horrified and smiled, thankful that he wasn't going to be told off.

Eames was laughing, really laughing the full works. He nearly toppled off the stool he was sitting on. Cobb eyed the flour packet that sat innocently to his right. Eames clearly hadn't laughed like this in a while, but Cobb couldn't care less. See how he liked it. Cobb got and handful of the white flour and puffed it in Eames direction. Unlike cake mix, flour gets everywhere, and the stuff settled on his shoulders, neck and chin. Eames froze, blinking, and blew air, puffs of flour following his breath. Eames gaze looked to Cobb after Ariadne helpfully pointed to him.

'Ha! Give me your best shot sunshine!' he challenged and Cobb raised his eyebrows at the forger.

'If it's anything like last time, this is not going to end well'

'Since when did you two have a flour fight?' Ariadne asked looking between the two men like she was only just seeing them.

'University' they answered in unison.

'Tell' Ariadne leaned forward.

1993

Their classes had been cancelled, and after finishing part 2 of his thesis Cobb clicked the button transmit on the walkie-talking he had by his bed and spoke into it.

'I'm hungry, are you in a position where you can get me anything from the kitchen? Over' and he clicked off, waiting. He glanced down, reading the last few lines of his point until the walkie-talkie crackled.

'No I'm not. Get it yourself, over'

Cobb rolled his eyes, clicking back to transmit once again. 'But you've just come back from rugby, aren't you hungry? Over' Click, pause, crackle-click.

'Yes I am, but I'm getting in the shower. So buzz off, over' Click. Eames was always a bit grouchy after rugby practice. It wore him out, and he couldn't stand the coach.

'Have fun, over' Cobb smirked, waiting for it. Click.

'I will. Get on with some work mate, stop thinking about my shower, over' the bastard laughed. Cobb grimaced.

'No thanks. Over' and that appeared to be the end of the conversation. They had thought of the ideas of having walkie-talkies as they were both as lazy as each other. Plus it made doing work in separated rooms quite funny.

Cobb managed to get some work done, but his stomach was growling at him, so he got up and went into the kitchen. He fixed himself a ham salad sandwich and was chewing a bite when Eames flopped down at the table opposite him. Eames was fresh out of the shower in a t-shirt and pants; his hair was damp and stuck up. Cobb pushed the other triangle of sandwich across the table to Eames who smiled.

'Thanks. You know we're low on bread'

'Yep' Cobb said, taking another bite.

'We could make our own. I've never done it myself but…' he shrugged. Cobb thought about it. He'd made bread when he was younger and knew the instructions and ingredients. If they looked in the cupboards they probably had everything.

'You okay?' he asked, Eames nodded slowly.

'Yeah, fantastic. How's the First World War Art thesis coming along?'

'It's good; I've finished my second part. Oh, and I've got the fiction you wanted me to write for your Psycho analytic study of creativity'

'That makes life a lot simpler, cheers. So, what do you want to do today?' Eames said, biting into the sandwich triangle.

'I thought we might attempt to make bread' and Eames' eyes shot up. All wide, then when he swallowed, he grinned.

'This is going be interesting'

'Definitely' Cobb agreed, matching the grin.

When they got everything ready, and Cobb – for safety – looked out his recipe book that his mom had put in his luggage, not trusting his nutritional judgement. And, aha! There was his mom's bread recipe. Eames wanted to do all the practical stuff, so Cobb just told him what to do.

'Mix the flours, salt, yeast, sunflower, caraway, and poppy seeds' and Eames did so. 'Add the black treacle and water, then mix well' he leant on the work top and Eames followed through with his instructions, getting treacle on his wrist in the process. Cobb watched, as Eames eyed it and then licked it off with a grunt.

'I feel like a Jedi Knight, and you're my Padawan' Cobb laughed, and Eames raised an eyebrow.

'In your dreams. Right, it's mixed well. Now what? Instruct Jedi' Eames smirked. Cobb rolled his, swivelling to read off the page.

'If the dough seems a little stiff, add one tablespoon or more extra water. What does it look like?' and Cobb peered into the mixing bowl. He hummed. Eames sniffed, and frowned at the mixture.

'I think it could do with a bit of water, I mean bloody hell I've handled softer basketballs' and Cobb snorted with laughter, nodding to agree with him.

'Alright, your call Mr Psychologist'

Eames poured a little more water from the measuring jug into the bowl. 'You know, I never knew we even had half of this equipment' Eames stopped and felt the stickiness. Cobb offered by his hands to have a look. The mix was pretty much perfect, not too sticky or pliant.

'Yeah I let my mom be in charge of helping me pack. She kept sending me things after months of living here. I had to sell two pans'

'Oh the horror'

'You're telling me. It took me ages to get that the first time I baked. Are you sure you haven't made bread before?' Cobb asked, suspicious.

'Nope. Right it says: mix well then put on a lightly floured work surface and gently knead the dough for 7 minutes. Bit precise isn't it?' he asked as Eames began to knead through the dough which was now on the readily dusted surface.

'Yeah, but like with pottery it's judgment'

'You remember the pottery class we tried last year? That did not work.'

'It seemed a good idea at the time'

'Oh what's the movie called… Ghost, Patrick Swayze'

'Huh?' Cobb asked, nonplussed as to what Eames was referring to.

'There's a pottery scene in the… oh you uncultured blond… doesn't matter'

'I resent that, I'm not uncultured. Keep kneading'

'Ah you love me. Here, you have a go' and he pushed the dough towards Cobb who took over. 'There's something relaxing about this, but I don't know what'

The dough was getting softer and warmer and Cobb could hear his mom's voice in his head telling him when to stop. They needed to oil the bowl, and the oil was in the cupboard above Eames's head.

'Eames can you get the oil out from in there?' and if Cobb knew what was coming, he would have got out of the way.

Eames, having left the heavy pouch of flour balanced on the mini shelf below the cupboard, when he reached to get the oil he knocked the bag. The bag tipped only slightly, colliding with Eames' chest, but the contents flew everywhere: all over Eames' head. Eames adjusted the bag slowly and handed Cobb the oil. It was all so serious that after doing what he was meant to (oil the bowl and put the bread in) Cobb took one look at Eames and burst into laughter.

He was blinking, his long lashes sifting flour, he looked so innocent. Cobb had his eyes shut due to laughing so hard. He only stopped when…

PUFF.

It was like having fairy dust sprinkled over you, all soft. When Cobb opened his eyes, shaking his hair and making the flour malt from his body, Eames was stood grinning at him. Teeth and all.

'We're even. Though technically I didn't throw any at'

'No way cowboy' and Cobb saw he was still holding the bag of flour.

'Eames, come on…'

'What?'

'This could end badly' Cobb picked up the bag or wholemeal flour, and weighed it in his palms.

They stayed like that for a while, sizing each other up, and waiting for the other to move. Apparently, mind's think alike as they went for each other at the same time.

Once it began it just got worse by the second, and more ingredients got involved. Ingredients like raising flour, shortening and eggs were threatened if things got bad. Ingredients like syrup (what the hell?) that Eames mercilessly dribbled on Cobb's fringe, because he had been pinned underneath his friend.

'That's just evil, get off me eugh!' Cobb scraped through his fringe and the slapped Eames lightly in the face, covering his cheek in a stripe of goo. It wasn't just who can get the other messier: it was a battle of strength. Very Jedi like. Cobb actually found it fun, and revenged on Eames getting the bottle of syrup off him and giving him a line diagonally across his chest.

More of that happened.

When the pair sat panting, laughing, and looking at each other. Both were completely covered head to foot in flour, and other bits, sitting against the cupboards.

'I just had a shower' Eames said through breath.

'Yeah bad luck'

'How's the bread?' he asked, and Cobb shut his eyes, chuckling softly. He had forgotten the reason that they had the foodstuffs out in the first place. He carefully got himself up and swayed, his legs feeling like jelly. He looked at the bread in the bowl, which was untouched and the most pristine thing in the kitchen. It had doubled up perfectly. Eames appeared at his side, putting an arm over his shoulders.

'Line a tray with baking parchment. Tip the dough onto a lightly floured work surface and knock back, then gently mould the dough into a ball' Cobb read out, pushing his fringe out of his eyes. Each did one of the tasks, and when glancing at each other –at the state they were in – smirked.

Cobb heated the oven, gas mark 7, watching fondly as Eames cut criss-cross slashes on the dough with a knife. The boy had a thing for violence, Cobb never knew where it came from.

'Bake for 30 mins until golden brown. That's it, I'm claiming the shower' Cobb dashed for the bathroom before Eames could respond. As the door shut, he heard Eames grumble.

When he came out, and had changed into sweats and a sweater he gaped at the kitchen. It was spotless.

'How?' he asked, mouth a gape.

'Felt a little guilty. Don't expect this often mind' and he went into the bathroom.

PRESENT

'Oh wow' Ariadne said and Phillipa looked between Eames and her father.

'Exactly' Cobb replied.

'You two are so cool' Phillipa said and she still looked surprised.

'So, is flour fighting good?' James asked, puzzlement evident.

'Depends who you're fighting, little soldier. And-' Eames said, picking James up onto his lap 'If you're on my team you win' he whispered loudly. Cobb rolled his eyes.

'So, who's up for cookies?'