Title: What Happened To Us

Author: ThePointGirl

Warnings: SLASH

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, but I wish I did *evil laugh*

Summary: Eames shows up at Cobb's house, wanting answers because he's not happy about something he heard

Notes: A friend and I created a prompt of a jealous!Eames and decided to have a ficoff :) Her fiction is called Working It Out, and her name is FreekyDisaster18 :D

Eames wasn't entirely sure what kicked off his mood in the first place. And buy that he meant the realfirst place. As he stood outside the door of the Cobb family home ringing the doorbell, annoyance bubbled beneath his fingertips. The door opened just as rain began to splatter down. The sky was creeping about in swirls. Oh how effective… Eames thought darkly. If this were a movie…

'Eames, are you okay? It's four am' Cobb asked from the doorway. Going home to his kids certainly made Cobb a new man he looked healthier and calmer, and without the scruff of a five o'clock shadow. Not looking over his shoulder so much. The extractor was frowning, apparently his skills at reading people stopped at Eames.

'Seen Arthur lately? He asked, levelling his voice without sounding like a psychopath. If anything Cobb's frown, deepened, so that little crease in between his eyes was in need of an iron.

'Yes I have. He's here' Eames' world span on its side. He was feeling a damp patch on the back of his jacket where he wasn't quite standing underneath the porch. 'Come on in' and he moved out of the way to let Eames through. Eames put his travel bag just next to the side table while processing the last minute in his head.

'What's Arthur doing here?' he asked lightly.

'I gave him a spare room. A job got called off in Italy, so he needed somewhere to lay low. I do have another room Eames if that's why you're here'

'That isn't actually why I'm here though I am under the impression that I'm on a black list for Russian art dealer' he stated. During the exchange, they had moved into the vast living room. Eames watched Cobb's posture tense slightly.

'Please, don't tell me you pissed off Kologrivov?' and Eames chuckled.

'Well, he was asking for it. I done him over and legged it'

Cobb sighed, sitting down on the couch. Eames fashioned it was similar to the sigh he gave when James had been naughty at school.

'How much?'

'Seven hundred and fifty'

'Seven fifty. Shit – you did a forgery of a painting for seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars for the world renowned Kologrivov the Russian Art Dealer?'

'Cobb, he's been on the sly for years you and I know that' Eames said, getting rather impatience with Cobb's slowness.

'If this gets out that a painting is a forgery. You're in - you said this wasn't the reason you came here?' Cobb said, looking up at him.

'Oh, no. Besides, I don't think I'm on the list just yet. I mean he probably doesn't know. The reason I came here is not so you can become my personal loan shark' Eames felt smug as Cobb's expression darkened considerably. 'No. What I was wondering…'

He didn't want to ask. Did he really want clarification? His stomach was already beginning to twist.

'Is why you slept with Arthur?'

Cobb hadn't been looking directly at him, but he was now. Eames stared at him, but flinched at the sound of movement. It was probably Phillipa out of bed because she can't sleep and wants her daddy.

In fact Eames hoped it was. But it wasn't. It was Arthur.

The point man stopped in his tracks at the sight of Eames, his eyes wide, and then glowered at the pair of them.

'What's going on?' and Eames wasn't sure whether Arthur had heard or not. Arthur looked like he was comfortable in his surroundings. Wearing baggy grey sweat pants and an old varsity tee shirt, he leant on the back of the couch with the palm of his hands. He had come to realise that Cobb had always tried to put distance between Arthur and him. Even in the Fischer-Morrow job, Cobb was mostly darting from one to the other.

'How did you find out?' Cobb asked.

'I have ears in many areas of the western world' he replied hotly 'I didn't want it to be something that could make either of you vulnerable'

Yup, lying straight through his teeth in his English drawl. He wondered which one would notice first.

'Liar' clearly Arthur had heard Eames' blatant statement. 'Do you really think that clients or mark's haven't used that tactic before?' his tone was somewhat patronising. But it was laced with something else, a defiance fought behind his eyes. Arthur looked away from Eames. He saw the closeness of Arthur's hand on the couch to Cobb's shoulder. Cobb laughed, not taking his eyes away from Eames.

'Just to clarify-'

'It was years ago' Arthur finished and Eames looked between the two men. They were hot headed, competitive, argumentative and sometimes stupid. But that was what made them the Bonnie and Clyde team which the extraction world knew. The trouble with forgers is that they are in comparison to freelance journalists. When they are wanted they appear. But Eames had seen Cobb and Arthur at their worst. He'd tried to stop Cobb crying that night that Mal jumped. He came across Arthur standing on a hotel roof, tears dripping as he threw a cigarette into the wind.

He didn't really want to ask how many years was 'years ago', however Arthur seemed to read his mind.

'Do you remember the job in Santa Monica that blew over because we were too eager?'

Blimey. That was a while back. But of course he remembered it; he had only met Arthur a few months prior to the job.

'Then?' he deadpanned, not liking where this was heading.

'No. Before that' and Eames frowned.

That meant it really was years ago. Christ.

'How old were you?' looking between the two. Cobb had an arm slung along the top of the couch and it pulled up the red sweatshirt he had on, exposing a flash of toned tanned skin.

'I must have been twenty –three and Arthur twenty' he said and Eames' insides ached. He could see the pair of them in flashbacks on a screen reel behind his eyes as he closed them for mere seconds.

'So you were in university?' he asked, and mentally kicked himself for not being able to look Cobb in the face.

'Yes' Cobb said. He sounded tired, tired of being awake at four forty-five in the morning, and tired of the conversation. 'Are you staying?' and his blue eyes cleared with emotion.

'If you'll have me. Looks too crowded'

'I'll set up the room' Arthur said and shot Eames a look before leaning off the couch with a huff. Arthur left and Eames could just about hear him padding the stairs. Cobb put his hands on his knees and pushed himself to a standing position.

'Eames'

'Dom'

The awkward silence dominated.

'I know what you're thinking-' Cobb started.

'Don't start extraction shit on me. And for the record you don't know'

'He's the most loyal person in the world. More than I am but couldn't you –'

'It never needed to come up. You were always halfway around the world'

'I came back. I came back for you on that night when Mal jumped. I almost bloody stopped Arthur doing it too'

'I'm sorry' Cobb said looking to the floor and then up again.

'Really. What are you sorry for?' he demanded. Cobb swallowed, and Eames hated that his eyes followed his Adams apple.

'I'm a terrible and fucking useless friend. I know that' he said, shaking his head, making the blond bangs slip forward.

'You weren't at school' Eames replied, softer. He needed sleep, and that room was probably set up now. Arthur most likely offered so as to get out of the conversation. Still. Cobb chuckled once, then twice. The chuckle died and Cobb's eyes shuttered like a Venetian blind; the slits of light were the creases of guilt.

'I'm going to go up. Thanks for letting me stay' he said and Cobb nodded. Eames leant forward and brushed his lips against Cobb's. He hovered, the heat from back at school tingling. When he felt Cobb kiss back – the slight pressure of his lips, and the tentative touch of tongue – he broke away. He didn't look at the man, and picked up his bag and walked up to the second floor. He touched the door of the spare room – the one he assumed was his. The door pulled back and Arthur stood the other side.

'Thanks Arthur' he said and he meant it. How could he not? Just looking at Arthur made him want to claim him. Arthur nodded, offering a small smile.

'No problem Eames' Arthur brushed passed him, tapping his hand gently in a simple but caring way.

Eames went into the medium sized spare bedroom and stripped down to his boxers. Lying in the bed he could hear the click of the alarm clock. Groaning he shut his eyes. What had he got himself into… or between. He wasn't even sure anymore.

The morning didn't fair any better. Eames woke to the sound of James running about making sure everyone was up. Eames could have sworn there was a thump as he dragged his dad out of bed. Eames got up slowly. Not really wanting to move, or go downstairs. But he washed and dressed and slipped down the stairs.

You know when you are in a dream, and you know it's a dream because there is something fuzzy and fantasy like about it. That was the feeling Eames got as he stood at the doorway to the kitchen. James was eating about three slices of toast and alternating between what appeared to be three different flavours. Phillipa was reading a book with a bowl of cereal in front of her, and the spoon stopping halfway to her mouth. Cobb had a cup of coffee in his hands, and was looking at it as if it had morphed into life support in a cup. Finally Arthur was telling James to slow down in his eating, whilst eating his own slice of toast.

Oddly it was Phillipa who noticed Eames first off. She looked up and smiled, eyes twinkling. Eyes like her father's.

'Uncle Eames! Daddy, you didn't tell me Uncle Eames was here!' she exclaimed, her book ignored for the minute.

'He arrived when you were asleep sweetheart'

Arthur had grabbed Eames' attention and asked 'Do you want some breakfast? Coffee milk and one sugar?' and he smiled weakly with a nod.

'Well Phil, the last time you woke up when Uncle Eames was here, you said you didn't want to be woken up' Cobb reasoned, it was clear Eames had somewhat zoned out of this conversation.

'Dad that was ages ago!' Phillipa pushed out the chair next to her and patted it. Eames couldn't help but smile. She was like Mal, always eager and wanting to please.

He sat down and Arthur leaned over with the cup of coffee. James and Cobb were having a conversation about his history homework, and Arthur's eyes softened. Eames hadn't realised he had focused on Cobb until he looked back at Arthur. Arthur's short nails scraped the table as his hand let go of the cup. Even though it was a tiny sound, Eames' ears picked it up. He watched as Arthur turned back around; his navy checked shirt hanging a bit loose on him with gaps at the lower back. Eames sipped at the coffee, the bitter taste alerting his senses.

'Right guys, we gotta leave. Phil are you going to the South Gate today? Performing Arts entrance?' Cobb asked and Phillipa nodded hopping up from her seat. She marked her page, and put her bowl in the sink. She gave Eames a half hug, and he ruffled her hair.

'See you later Uncle Eames!' and she was gone from the room. James was not as sprightly in his movements and needed nudging by Cobb.

'I'm goin'! Bye Uncle Eames' and Cobb shook his head.

'That boy… I'm going to run some stuff after I drop them off' Cobb said and he caught Eames' eye.

'Pick me up a paper would you?' he asked and Cobb looked like he was knocked a bit sideways. His expression was readjusted and he nodded.

'Sure. Arthur?'

'I'm fine. Just don't get lost'

Cobb was turning in a neat circle when he turned round to look at Arthur, an eyebrow raised.

'One time. And that was in Moldova'

'The shop was only five minutes away from-'

'Goodbye Arthur' and he left. The sound of Phillipa and James' chatter soon died down as the click of the door silenced everything.

Arthur plonked (that was the only way to describe his unusual lack of gracefulness) himself down on the chair opposite Eames, leaning on his elbows and rubbing his face with two hands.

'What happened last night?'

Arthur was not stupid. For all their banter and mini little fights was just another way to wind Cobb up. Eames thought it was a subconscious stab at attention. Certainly their whole thing with Fischer and the first level down was more for Cobb's benefit. Eames knew he saw the whole 'you mustn't be afraid to dream a little bigger, darling' act. Well part of it wasn't, but some of it was. At the precise moment he could not remember where each piece fitted on the line of memory and emotion, but it made sense back then. Arthur was looking at him expectantly. He has – as Eames had found out earlier in their partnership – the best bitch face on a man. Cobb can be intimidating and rather scary like a raged tiger, whereas Arthur's the leopard who waits until it gets really pissed off and all hell breaks loose.

'Nothing' he lied. Lying wasn't as natural as you would think to Eames, considering he was a forger and a con man. Well… morally speaking anyways.

'You see, I don't know why, but you have this wonderful need to lie to me' Arthur replied leaning back in his chair, slumped a little. Light from the window caught his hair and neck.

'I'm not lying'

'Then why do I think you are?'

'Because you're over dramatising it'

'No, because I'm perceptive' Arthur tapped the chair with his hand 'God you're frustrating' he huffed out.

'At least I evoke some emotion, darling' Eames replied, the smile on his lips helping his mood.

'I just want to know' Arthur looked, for once, pathetic. Eames kept quiet, downing his coffee and making the cup clunk down on the table. 'Okay. How did you find out?'

'I don't actually remember' he replied honestly. Arthur frowned.

'How do you mean?'

'Someone said it to me. At least I think they heavily implied it… another point man I think'

Arthur groaned with a roll of his eyes.

'This person wouldn't be called Anderson would he?' crossing his arms over his chest and tilting his head to one side.

'Maybe. I – why?' and Arthur flushed pink for a moment.

'Let's just say, I know him' Arthur replied.

'How?'

'I do have a social life Eames. As much as that may shock you'

'You fucked him over didn't you?' Eames asked, he could feel his eyes glinting.

'I left him if that's what you mean' Arthur got up and began clearing away the components from breakfast. Eames pushed the cup towards Arthur who picked it up.

'Ah… that gives reason to his sombre, if not angry, attitude' Eames stacked the plates. 'Do you want a hand?'

'No. It's fine. You sure you don't want anything?' Arthur asked without turning to face him. Eames shook his head.

'Nope. I'm fine, doll. You know I hardly eat food' and he thought Arthur shake his head, but he might just be imagining it. He tapped the pockets of his jeans.

'Cobb said you gave up smoking' and Eames' hand halted in its tapping over the pack of Bensons in his pocket.

'Did he now?' he breathed and got up, out of the chair.

'Yeah. So go now if you want to have one before he gets back'

Eames nodded and walked out of the kitchen. He opened the door and slipped out to the right of the house. Leaning against the clean, cool, brick he closed his eyes. Taking out his lighter and Bensons he removed one from the packet with his teeth and put the packet back in his jeans. He lit the cigarette after about three spits of the lighter, and held it out in front of him. Taking in a puff felt like heaven, and he blew out.

He was lucky as this carried on for about five more puffs, until the crunch of gravel and footsteps. Remembering he was not at the end of his garden at thirteen, and the person coming around the corner would not be him mum, he didn't really react.

'Want some?' he asked, without looking and offering the cigarette.

'I thought you quit'

'Wow, you and Arthur are sounding very familiar nowadays'

'What are you trying to do to me Eames? I don't understand you'

'That's because I'm not Mal or Arthur' and he expected a punch. He didn't expect to be slammed against the wall. Mental flashback to Fischer on the first level down, Cobb pushed him against the van. Now, Cobb had his hands tight around his shirt. If he gave enough force he could throw the man off.Why not let him rumble a bit, eh?

'Why did you say that?' he growled and Eames had to blink slowly. Easytiger… Eames gripped the cigarette for its life was dying.

'Because you had Mal. Jesus Christ – you had the most beautiful woman in the whole of Paris. But you also had Arthur' and he stopped. He could sense Cobb weakening a little. His shoulders easing.

'And I had you too, you fucking moron!' oh no maybe not as Cobb bit back, blue eyes glaring at him. 'I was fine at school, and then you show up like the rainbow parade. All chaos and -'Cobb stopped because Eames started to shake with laughter.

'Rainbow parade? I've been called many things – but rainbow parade?' he asked still giggling. Cobb grunted.

'I panicked, okay? That's not the point'

Cobb was still holding on to him, so Eames nudged him. Thankfully the guy got the hint, and Eames straightened out his shirt. Cobb slumped against the wall next to him.

'Kids dropped off fine?'

'Yeah. I narrowly escaped being cornered by James' art teacher'

'See, there's Dominic Cobb's weakness. Oh, he can now perform inception with his eyes closed and walking backwards, but give him a grade school art teacher and – where'd he go?' Eames said, taking a drag from the now minute cigarette butt, scowling at it.

'I remember being in Mrs Copperly's Art History class…'

'Was that the time you fell off the stool and brought the easel with it?' Eames asked. Cobb stared at him, trying to keep face, but then broke into a grin and nodded.

'In my defence, I was trying to get a better angle'

'Well you did. The floor'

Silence caught them once again and Cobb ran a hand through his hair.

'What happened to us, Eames?'

'We grew up. Went our separate ways' he sighed.

'It was fun. All the road trips. You singing Bon Jovi very out of tune an-'

'Hey, you can't sing any better than I can' Eames cut across.

'And the time we refused to go home and sat on the cliff for hours' Cobb said. He did actually sound like he missed it. Eames' had to say it.

'I'm sorry for going off at you after Fischer Morrow' he said and could feel the man looking at him.

'Eames, if I didn't say it to you I said it to everyone else. It should be me apologising. And I am sorry, I just couldn't deal with-'

'I know' Eames cut him short. He didn't want to hear the reasons again. He didn't want to be reminded of the images that he still kept in his head, of the man who came to his door bawling his eyes out. The man who when he was at Eames' apartment nearly took an overdose of god knows what to help. Which it, of course, did nothing of the sort.

No, Eames did not want those images. He wanted to be reminded of the teenage boy he once knew. The one who told him he talked funny, he said 'I talk funny? You should here you from this end of the line'. At which point they grinned at each other and shook hands, introducing themselves.

The one who used up the months phone bill because he wouldn't shut up about – well – anything and everything. The one who told him to 'dream bigger' and he added the 'darling.

The one who he ran with through the fields behind the school, and skipped a few meagre tests with. The only one he let put their head in his lap when they sat in the park. The skinny, floppy blond haired boy who constantly argued with him in philosophy and politics class: that was the Dominic Cobb he knew. And loved.

They watched each other grow up and out of the roles they once knew.

'Arthur's going to wonder where we've gone' Eames commented and he saw Cobb's blue eyes widen. Very like the time he realised he was in completely the wrong place for his lesson, and proceeded to run across the campus. Silly git, head in the clouds.

'Let's go in inside' and they pushed their weight off the wall. Eames walked round the house, slipping the burnt out butt end in the bin. He eyed the car in the drive. It was Cobb's BMW. He hadn't seen the car's make because it was blacked out when he arrived. Blacked out and quiet like a suburban village.

'Can I…'

'If you end that sentence with 'drive your car' I'll say no' Cobb answered without turning to look at him, and putting his key in the lock. Cobb looked over his shoulder with a smirk on his face.

'Do I trust you with my kids? Yes. Do I trust you with my life? Yes. Do I trust you with my car? Not a chance'

Eames chuckled.

'I suppose me wrecking your bike in sixth grade has nothing to do with it?'

'Not at all' Cobb said in monotone. Opening the door they went inside and could hear a program being broadcast on the kitchen TV.

'The painting at The Brooklyn Museum of Art has been named a forgery.The painting Of the Lady in Black was recognised today to…'

Eames froze and Cobb turned to look at him. They both went into the kitchen and found Arthur sitting at the table watching the news report with interest.

There was a picture being shown on the TV screen of the painting, with the irritating news reporter babbling on voice over. Eames went quiet, and heard rushing in his ears.

'Eames, is that the painting?' Cobb asked standing next to him, shoulders touching. Eames nodded. He didn't think opening his mouth would do anything useful.

'What's going on?' Arthur asked, and he was looking between the two with half frown for concern, and half 'what the hell have you two done?'

'Arthur, you know Kologrivov?' Cobb asked just as the man appeared on press release coverage. Arthur nodded.

'We're going to pay him a visit' Cobb said simply and glanced at Eames, a small rather evil smile on his face.

Back was the boy, man, extractor that Daniel Eames once knew…

Please don't hurt me.. I can back cookies :) Reviews would be very helpful. Thank you.