Title: Someone To Call My Own
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: Arthur/Other, Arthur/Eames
Wordcount: ~3,500
Beta: SCARLET_STARLET
Summary: Written for this PROMPT at the Kink Meme.
Basically, Arthur is persuaded by Saito to be the recipient of a mail-order bride from his new company.
Someone To Call My Own
Arthur stood proudly in the front row as he watched Mal walk down the aisle. She was beautiful, resplendent in layers of cream silk dotted with pearls, her smile radiant and uplifting. Mal's sheer veil fluttered in the breeze as she walked, slow and hypnotic. An unfamiliar feeling clenched in Arthur's chest, but he brushed it off as little more than a swell of admiration for the two people he loved most in the world as they bound themselves to each other with heartbreakingly beautiful, poetic vows.
At the reception, Arthur stood up to make his speech. As the best man, he'd written and re-written this over no less than fourteen attempts. He wanted to reflect not only the love they shared, but the strength and unity they represented. Together they were an unbreakable force, creating worlds so intricately detailed even Eames sometimes struggled determining where the dreams began and ended; and he was the best forger there was.
At the end of his speech, he folded the crisp white sheet of paper back into its 12x12 square and tucked it back into his breast pocket. Looking over at Dom and Mal, he saw them share that special smile; an intimate look of knowing that made Arthur's chest clench again.
The thought that it may be an oncoming heart attack briefly crossed his mind and he decided it might be time that he found a reliable doctor, who could be paid enough to keep quiet about his identity. It didn't cross his mind for a second that he might be jealous. Especially not jealous of Dom and Mal and that they could have something that he could never have. In his line of work, it hardly paid to form attachments with people you hadn't met before, and after 32 years, all the people Arthur already knew had been categorised as either showing potential or never suitable.
There were only ever two people to ever be listed under potential and now one of them was married and the other presumably somewhere in Mombasa with a lover and a long string of gambling debts. Arthur looked forlornly over at the table, deciding that the feeling could better be described as longing. A longing to learn what love was really like. A longing to learn how it felt to be part of a whole and even maybe one day learn what it felt like to be a lover himself. Of course, Arthur had met people before, he'd been chatted up in bars and shared longing gazes with strangers across the room. He'd even gone back to another man's house once, their clothes flying in a discarded trail as they moved into the bedroom, driven by lust and intoxication. Arthur tried to not let it worry him that he'd never seen the man again after that night, much like he tried to forget how the next time he visited the apartment it was advertising for new tenants.
There were crowds of people at Dom and Mal's reception, all dressed in their finery. Cutlery clinked against plates and the sound of laughter carried across the room. The food was exquisite, a variety of traditional French cuisine chosen by Mal and with a few of Dom's American influences, like tiny hot dog canapés as a part of the entree selection. Arthur occupied himself with tucking his serviette across his lap. The last thing he wanted was to spill ketchup on a three thousand dollar Brioni suit. If not for the years of training, he probably wouldn't have noticed the piercing gaze of the elderly Japanese gentleman at the next table.
The man appeared to be watching his every move. Arthur felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle and excused himself politely from the table in an attempt to judge whether the old man was really watching him, or if it was just a coincidence. Arthur never really held much faith in coincidences, but as the man's gaze softened and looked down at his plate he guessed he must just be being paranoid.
Arthur took a few moments in the bathroom to splash water on his face and roll his totem a few times just to make sure. He just couldn't quite shake that feeling as if something odd was afoot. He looked up into the mirror as he drained the water from the sink. He wasn't prepared for the moment of shock as he noticed the old man starting at his reflection from over his shoulder.
The man chose his words carefully, his English stilted and voice gravelly with age. "You look lonely."
"I may be alone, sir, but I am certainly not lonely." Arthur retorted as he moved to leave the bathroom. A wizened hand on his wrist thwarted his escape.
"I know what it's like to be an old man filled with regret." His eyes were sincere, and for a moment Arthur almost wanted to believe that this man wasn't as crazy as he first thought.
"Take a leap of faith, Arthur. I think I know what you need."The old man shuffled them both towards the exit, pressing a scrap of paper into his hand as he left. "Call me in 3 days. This number. Ask for Saito."
Arthur could only nod his consent.
***
Three days later, Arthur sat in his apartment. His fingers rolled idly across the curved corner of his totem. Now Dom and Mal were gone away on their honeymoon, there really wasn't much to do but wait until they got back and started on their next job. He picked up the telephone receiver in his right hand, contemplating whether or not he should call the mysterious Saito.
The less logical part of his brain, the part he blamed Eames for damaging irreparably during a week in Prague, reasoned that even the worse possibly scenario played out far more interesting than sitting in a lonely room on a Tuesday night.
"Welcome to Proclus Global, how may I help you?" There were barely two rings before the machine had picked up and suddenly Arthur felt unsure how to speak.
"I was told to call a Mr. Saito," he managed, before thankfully he was interrupted by the prompt.
"Who may I say is calling?"
"Arthur." And with a metallic click, he was redirected to Saito's personal line. Arthur was sure if he had answered differently, this would not have been anywhere near as simple.
"I am surprised you called, Arthur. You do not seem the type to be easily intrigued." The man's voice was different, young, not at all what he had been expecting. He should have known that the man at the wedding wasn't the figurehead of a multi-national corporation.
"I'm not really sure either," He responded, too hesitant to state anything but the truth.
"Well, let me start by telling you a little bit more about what it is that I do..."
***
Four hours later, Arthur hung up the phone from a long and exhausting conversation with Saito. It had been strictly professional and related to business, though not at all how Arthur had imagined it.
As it had turned out, Saito had recently bought out a business unit in Japan relating to the sale and integration of mail order brides. Arthur's cheeks had reddened when Saito first explained the process, but his easy tone and casual persuasion had eventually won him over.
Saito had assured him that his personal and very private datasheet would be sent out first thing in the morning. Arthur knew he'd be up all night thinking about it and worrying over his options.
***
When the papers had eventually arrived in the mail that afternoon, Arthur tiptoed surreptitiously out to the mailbox, as though the postman may have perhaps been able to see through the envelope and known what was inside. Regardless of the fact it was sent from an anonymous source in a heat sensitive, interior tinted, tamper evident envelope.
Once safely back inside with his package, Arthur carefully slid the pages out of their envelope and laid them out neatly on the table in front of him. He filled in all his details cautiously, his curiosity building as he opened the included CD case, containing the design program that Saito had explained to him over the phone. It sounded almost as if Arthur was about to build himself the perfect boyfriend, but he doubted it would be that simple for Saito to find the right match, unless he had also acquired a less than legal genetics manufacturing plant.
Arthur eagerly booted up his PC and slid the disk into the loading tray. Up on his screen popped a bright pink box, with pictures of hot young men with rippled abs in bikini briefs. Arthur rolled his eyes, wondering if he had maybe lost his mind somewhere between Dom's wedding and the time at which he had agreed to this insanity.
Though, he really didn't have anything to lose. Arthur manoeuvred his mouse to click on the 'Get Started' icon, and a blank outline appeared. The first question was gender, which Arthur didn't have to think too hard about. He'd always been gay, if not flamboyantly so. Women held little more appeal to him other than the fact that they usually made pretty decent company and could usually pick the difference between a tailored suit and one just off the rack.
He scrolled down the options that appeared next, selecting his choices as he went.
Build – Muscular
Face shape – Oval
Hair – Dark Blonde
Eyes – Blue
Nose – Angular
Lips – Full
The automated preview started loading while Arthur's knee bounced under the table in impatience. The face staring back at him was all too familiar. He should have known that he had a 'type' and that process was never going to be easy. He skipped the rest of the questions and hit submit, choosing instead to phone Saito and explain that he didn't want to be involved in the design.
"Just pick one, Saito," he sighed and clicked down the receiver. He was grateful for the stranger's help, but the entire process was beginning to become somewhat tedious. Arthur had never wanted any of this, but at the same time, Arthur had never wanted anything more.
The next day Saito emailed him a delivery docket. Arthur nervously chewed the inside of his lip, wondering for the millionth time if he was making a mistake. The profile looked promising. Saito had run his personality profile through some tests and come up with a few matches. There were probably more men on that database than Arthur would have otherwise met in his lifetime, but now here he was, waiting for his arranged husband to arrive in America, without the slightest idea if they were going to hit it off.
***
When the day finally comes to meet his match, Arthur has almost talked himself into backing out. The constant phone calls from Saito reassured him though, that he would still be perfect if Arthur was thinking about changing his mind.
He arrived at the airport precisely half an hour before the plane landed. His hands were shaking from the third espresso he'd knocked back in the arrivals lounge. The soft jazz playing over the speaker only served to irritate him further; this environment was not conducive to calming his nerves.
Arthur moved to a seat nearer the entryway when the flight's arrival was announced overhead. The last thing he wanted to do was miss any detail, the chance to catch any doubt in the stranger's eyes before it was forever shrouded with duty. After all, technically this was probably only a job for him. Arthur doubted himself for a moment; was this any better than hiring a prostitute for the weekend?
Saito's message buzzed in his pocket. The screen of Arthur's cell read simply, Stop doubting and live. Arthur smiled down at the floor and shoved the phone back into his pocket.
His eyes were immediately jerked upwards again at the feel of hot breath against his neck.
"Hello, Darling." The accent was wrong, and the hair too neat, but Arthur was too taken aback by his words to form a coherent response. A blush of pink swept over Arthur's face as the stranger continued, "I am lead to believe that you, sir, are the lovely Mr. Arthur."
Arthur managed a small nod, beginning to grow accustomed to the brilliance of the other man's perfect teeth and the crisp sharp lines of his suit. He took a step back, sweeping his gaze over the man in critical appraisal.
"Well, I'm Trent. It's so nice to finally meet you," he said with a handshake that somehow felt far too formal for the transaction that was taking place. He was handsome, of course, but there was something different about him lying just below the surface.
The lines of his jaw were just a bit too sharp and his lips a little too thin. His suit remained wrinkle-free even after the long flight. Arthur could tell that Saito had put his best efforts in to make sure the transaction had been flawless. The man's attention to detail was astounding, right down to the elegant stainless steel cufflinks and the navy pinstripe suit, a personal favourite of Arthur's.
Before he knew it, Trent had bundled up his bag from the turnstile and hooked his arm around Arthur's, leading them back towards the carpark. Arthur regained the lead, extracting his arm to grab the keys from his pocket and pressed the button so that Trent could pack his bags into the hatch of his red Alfa Romeo.
Arthur was a manic driver, cutting corners and weaving his way through peak hour traffic with little skill and far more than his fair share of good luck. His knuckles were white from where his hands gripped tight around the leather steering wheel, but Trent sat calm and relaxed beside him with a smile playing across his lips as he watched Arthur's muscles tense when he leaned into the corners.
On their way home, Arthur stopped at various tourist locations to show Trent his neighborhood. They shared a gelato in the park, heedless of the flurry of autumn leaves and the chilled evening breeze.
***
Trent stepped nonchalantly over the threshold of Arthur's uptown apartment, as though it was exactly how he had expected it to be. Arthur figured that Saito must have prepared him for this.
"Do you want a cup of anything, Trent?" Arthur enquired from the kitchen, poking his nose around the corner to point in the direction of where he could put his luggage.
"Ah, tea if you've got it, thanks. Black, two sugars and maybe a slice of lemon if it's not too much trouble?"
Arthur felt his heart clench yet again as he thought about the only other person he had ever met who enjoyed that exact particular combination. Damn, Saito was good, but Arthur was beginning to crave some originality. Trent was everything Arthur wanted, but at the same time he was really only a shade, a mimicry of the man Arthur was too afraid to admit he wanted.
When Trent disappeared into the bathroom for a shower to freshen up, Arthur hastily grabbed for his mobile phone. His fingers flew to Saito's number, saved on speed dial number 3, the first being his mother and the second reserved for Dom. As always, Saito picked after the first few rings.
"Is everything ok?" Saito asked tentatively, a childlike excitement in his voice, and Arthur could all but picture his hands clasped together in glee atop the rich mahogany desk.
"Almost," Arthur responded, uncertainty clouding his tone. "Something just doesn't feel quite right."
"We could go blonde?" Saito suggested, "Or is it the personality? Trent is very resourceful, you know. Just give me the word and I'll make the call."
Arthur flapped his mouth open, "No, the personality is fine. Is it just an act though Saito?" Arthur pressed the cell unneccessarily hard to his ear as he listened for the man's response.
"Not at the moment," Saito continued, choosing his words more carefully, "He's real enough, its mostly his appearance we've been tweaking to suit your expectations."
"Saito, I just want something real." Arthur sighed, exasperated. "Look, I've got to go - "
Arthur was cut short by Saito's response, "Just tell him." and with a click, the line went dead. Arthur's stomach twisted with anticipation. It was so soon, he'd just met this man and he didn't really think that it would be all that polite to explain to a living, breathing, human being that their appearance and their accent, and pretty much everything about them was not really quite the perfection he craved.
Arthur thought about it for a moment, deciding that it would be better off for the both of them if he just kept his mouth shut and enjoyed all the good things about his new companion. He just had to try and forget about the similarities and the likenesses and the overbearing fact that in reality the entire basis of their relationship was a well constructed lie.
Trent sauntered out into the kitchen in a loose fitted business shirt and torn jeans, his damp hair slicked back and parted to the side. Arthur handed him a mug of steaming tea, the slice of lemon skewered over the side of the mug, specifically unlike the other man had wanted his.
Eames always wanted a wedge of lemon floating in the cup, but Arthur knew he was just an oddity and wanted to see how Trent would react. The phone rang, a call from Dom, wishing him all the best for his first date and Arthur didn't exactly go into specifics. When he turned back to the table, Arthur noticed Trent struggling with a toothpick that he'd used to hold together the slice of lemon into a wedge shape and dropped it into his cup. For Arthur, it was the last straw.
"You don't have to be someone else, just for me Trent. Serioulsy, I just want to experience something real. I don't care in the slightest if you don't look or act like a profile datasheet."
Trent appeared taken aback by the comment; presumably Saito hadn't prepped him for that line yet. Arthur stepped forward, relishing in this one moment of control. He felt like he'd been waiting his entire life for this moment. He closed the space between them, suddenly close enough to feel his warm breath as Trent opened his mouth to speak.
"Show me what you want to know." Trent's voice faltered, as if the knowledge of his chameleon appearance was a secret kept heavily guarded for as long as he could remember.
"Is this real?" Arthur asked, his fingers combing through the dark silky strands. Trent closed his eyes and relaxed into the touch, each of Arthur's strokes falling shorter as Trent's hairline receded and fine strands thickened until Arthur was shamelessly rubbing his fingertips through dense sandy hair.
From there, Arthur brushed his hands down the man's face and neck, gliding over his shoulders as he felt flesh and muscle shifting and tensing beneath his fingers as his shape redefined itself. Arthur's exploration became more persistent as he uncovered the layers of a man more perfect in reality than he could have possibly imagined. Arthur leaned in close as he picked up the musky aroma of tobacco and aftershave, revelling in the scent as he carefully pressed his lips in small dotted kisses across his softening jaw line.
Arthur leaned down further, to rest his lips on the man's bicep.
"Something belongs here, too." he half whispered into the warm skin, his tounge tracing the contours of familiar inked muscle as the lines and letters as they appeared to bleed in from just below the surface.
As Arthur lapped his tounge in the hollows of the man's neck, he decided that he no longer cared if Trent was little more than a custom order. Nothing mattered to Arthur except for the sheer perfection he held in his hands. Besides, Arthur would deal with the consequences of his decision when they became relevant.
A gentle hand tipped his chin upwards, distracting him from his internal monologue, before suddenly he was struck with a kiss so forceful that it crushed Arthur back against the bench. Tight lips filled out until the mouth Arthur had always wanted to explore was all but encompassing him.
"I wish I'd known you wanted the real me sooner," The hot British accent, clouded with lust, throbbed in Arthurs ears as he stepped back.
"I didn't know... I didn't want anything really," Arthur panted breathlessly, "And of all guises, this one works best for me, Trent. I'm sorry if it's awkward for you like this."
Arthur's apology was cut short by strong arms picking him up and crushing him into another embrace.
"This wasn't all Saito's idea, you know." Arthur felt a wet tongue brushing against his top lip as he was kissed again by that glorious mouth. "And, you don't have to keep playing the game now, darling."
It wasn't until Arthur heard those words, so perfectly enunciated with crisp Eames precision, that he even begun to grasp the gravity of the situation.
His heart sunk through the floor, as his stomach threatened to engage in a mutiny against him.
"You two were playing me all along?"
"Well, Saito is the best in the business when it comes to matchmaking." Eames said, perhaps a little offended.
"I know," Arthur responded with a queasy smile, "He knew exactly what I wanted, before I knew myself."