The Thief
By Hazelmist
Summary: Ariadne has a bad habit: she steals from her coworkers. Arthur gets fed up and decides to steal something from her. A/A fluffy oneshot
A/N: I should be finishing up my other stories but I'm obsessed with Inception and this story wouldn't leave me alone. This is my very first Inception fic! I adore this movie and I've read way too many fanfics revolving around this pairing so I apologize if this has already been done before. I can't control my subconscious.
Arthur should've known the moment she walked into the warehouse that she was a dangerous thief. Unfortunately he was too busy trying to figure out what the hell Dom was thinking bringing a teenage girl into the business. He knew Dom was desperate to get back to his kids, but this girl couldn't have been more than seventeen and practically screamed naivety. Was she even legal? When Dom had said that he was going to get them a new architect (they'd already gone through six architects in the past eighteen months), Arthur had prepared himself for all kinds of disastrous scenarios and how he would be forced to work around them. But in all of the endless possibilities and horrific outcomes he'd envisioned, there had been nothing quite like her.
"Ariadne, this is my associate, Arthur." Dom motioned to Arthur, but it was Ariadne who boldly stepped forward and offered her hand. Arthur was forced to postpone the talk he intended to have with Dom and to accept the soft slender fingers between his own.
Their gazes met and Arthur was suddenly struck down by a pair of brown eyes. She was young, but not that young. The smile that she gave him and the confident grip in her handshake betrayed her real age. He didn't realize it, but when Ariadne withdrew her hand and her gaze, she took a tiny piece of Arthur with her.
That was the first time Ariadne stole something from Arthur.
The next time it happened, Arthur noticed.
In the days that followed their first encounter, Arthur observed Ariadne constantly. He watched her as he trained her, marveling at how quickly she absorbed all of his instruction and effortlessly destroyed each and every trap and test that he sprung on her. He continued to keep a close eye on her as she interacted with the other team members and built her models; molding herself into the architect that they desperately needed. Arthur tried very hard to tell himself that he was observing her for strictly professional reasons - after all he was the point man and details were his job – but that would be a lie. The truth was that despite the baggy t-shirts, the scarves, and the red jacket that she didn't take off nearly enough, Arthur was very aware that there was a not-so-young woman hiding underneath all those clothes. On more than one occasion, Arthur found his mind and his gaze wandering in the direction of the petite architect with the soft skin and striking brown eyes. She had stolen his attention in more ways than one, and Arthur hated her for it. A distraction was something that he could not afford on a job like this one. He quickly discovered that Ariadne was the worst of its kind.
It started with the pens.
Arthur learned that Ariadne liked to sketch out her ideas on paper before entering the dream or building a model. But she was never satisfied with them, going through hundreds of blueprints and enough paper to wallpaper the warehouse. She quickly finished the entire box of ball point pens Arthur had gotten her as well as the paper. Instead of asking Dom or Arthur to buy her more, Ariadne snuck over to Eames's abandoned workspace and quietly started rifling through the mess of papers, files, and trash for anything she could work with. Because it was Eames (and Arthur had a perfect view from his seat of Ariadne's ass as she bent over the forger's desk), Arthur was more than willing to allow her to carry on. Five delightful minutes later, Ariadne tip toed back to her desk with plenty of paper and a fistful of pens that included an inappropriate souvenir from Amsterdam's red light district that Arthur knew was a particular favorite of Eames. When a few hours later Arthur found Eames down on his hands and knees, cursing as he bumped his head on the underside of the desk in search of the missing pen, Arthur decided that he really, really loved their new architect.
Until she began stealing his pens.
As soon as Arthur discovered that they were missing he blamed Eames. Their occupation required everyone to play the thief in some way or form, but Eames was one of the proud few that was an actual thief outside of the dreamscape. The first time they worked together Eames walked off with Arthur's wallet, two of his passports, several credit cards, and over seven hundred dollars in cash. In retaliation for the two miserable days he was forced to spend in customs with no form of identification and not enough money for bribery, Arthur took half of Eames's share on the next job they worked together and promised that he would do it again if anything he owned ever went missing again. Arthur was about to corner the forger and threaten to withhold his entire share this time, when he spotted the elusive pen not in the large hand of the forger but between the soft slender fingers of another coworker.
He fought the impulse to snatch the pen back and replace it in the drawer with the rest of his dwindling supply. The thought of anyone - even if it was the pretty little architect - pawing through his desk and shamelessly robbing him made his skin itch unpleasantly. He'd have to speak to her about it, eventually. He supposed that it was his own fault really for not having ordered her more in the first place, but Arthur had deliberately neglected his office supplier duties, half hoping that Ariadne would attempt to steal from the forger again. His eyes automatically darted toward the first scene of the crime. He was startled to find Eames leaning against the desk, looking right back at him.
Arthur didn't like the way the forger's eyes flickered between him and the architect, and he definitely did not like the smirk that Eames graced him with before brushing past Arthur's desk to approach Ariadne.
"Ariadne?"
"Mmm?"
Apparently, Ariadne was so enthralled with her sketching that she couldn't be bothered with looking up at the forger.
"That's a nice pen you've got there," Eames observed loudly. "Mind if I borrow it?" He reached for the pen at the same moment that Arthur figured out what the forger was really doing.
Ariadne jumped at the sound of Arthur's chair scraping across the floor as he shot to his feet. The sketch slid off her lap and onto the floor. Ariadne blinked, as if noticing Arthur and Eames's presence for the first time, and then she did something startling; she stuck the end of Arthur's expensive fountain pen into her mouth.
Arthur barely noticed the shit-eating grin on the forger's face or the way Ariadne's ass looked even better in those skinny jeans as she bent down to retrieve the sketchbook. There was something oddly erotic about the fact that Ariadne was sucking on one of his pens. Arthur could have sworn she slyly glanced in his direction as she slowly removed the pen from between her pink lips.
"Sorry, Eames, what were you saying?" she asked, turning to the forger.
"I can't remember, love, but wherever did you get that pen? It looks remarkably similar to the boring luxury collection that Arthur's got in his desk."
"Oh. I -" Ariadne's cheeks flushed so prettily that Arthur stepped in before Eames could go in for the kill.
"I didn't order enough pens so I loaned Ariadne a few of my own," he lied smoothly, successfully knocking the smug grin off the forger's face. "I'll have a box for you in the morning," he promised her.
"Thanks, Arthur." Ariadne flashed him a warm smile that did something funny to his stomach. Arthur tried not to dwell on it as they both returned to their work, but it was hard not to with Ariadne less than twenty-two feet away (so what if he'd counted?) and the forger watching him as if waiting for him to spontaneously self combust. Both men knew it wasn't like Arthur to allow anyone to touch his things let alone steal and then lick them. Arthur told himself that it was only fair that Ariadne got to keep his pens since he'd selfishly failed to do his job and supply her with more. It was a strictly professional decision.
The next time it happened, Arthur had a harder time making up an appropriate excuse.
Every morning Arthur bought himself a large coffee from a local café on his way to the warehouse. One day it happened that Arthur was running later than usual and was one of the last to arrive instead of the first. He had just enough time to remove his coat and put down his briefcase before Ariadne called him over to her desk. Coffee in hand, Arthur hurried over to the eager architect, ignoring the knowing look that Eames gave him.
"I think I finally finished the design for the second level," she gushed, proudly presenting him with the perfected blueprint. Arthur tried to focus on the blueprints she handed him, but it was difficult when the pretty little architect was standing so close and buzzing with excitement.
"And I was thinking that we could put the penrose steps here." He felt her brush up against him, as she leaned in to tap the blueprint. She was near enough that he could smell the sweet scent of her shampoo and feel the heat of her body through their clothes.
"Or perhaps it might be better off here," she said, hovering over the designs. Her loose curls trailed over one arm, threatening to be as satiny soft as her skin. The warehouse was suddenly extremely stuffy.
"So, what do you think, Arthur?" Ariadne asked him abruptly and Arthur realized with a hot wave of embarrassment that he hadn't retained a single word of the steady chatter she'd kept up for the past few minutes. "Arthur?"
"Give me a moment," Arthur cleared his throat and carefully put down his coffee on Ariadne's desk. He took the blueprint into both hands, forcing himself to block everything out so that he could concentrate on the task at hand. His eyes swept over the paper, taking in each and every detail in a thorough inspection.
"This is so good!" But it wasn't Arthur who made this exclamation (though he'd been thinking it). He turned to find Ariadne perched on the edge of her desk with his coffee cupped in one hand. He was about to claim it when she brought the coffee up to her mouth again and closed her eyes. A soft satisfied sigh left her lips as she lowered the cup.
"I spent all night trying to get everything just right and this is exactly what I needed," she said, stroking the cup fondly with her other hand, before kissing the lip of the cup again in another greedy sip. Arthur was insanely jealous of his own coffee, until Ariadne reached out to squeeze his arm. With difficulty, he tore his eyes away from her wetted lips and back up to her brown eyes that were shining with gratitude.
"Thanks, Arthur. You're amazing," she gushed with the same enthusiasm that she had for her designs. Arthur's heart skipped a beat. He wanted to grab her right then and there and show her just how amazing he thought she was, but instead he pushed these rash impulses aside and let the moment pass with nothing more than the faintest hint of a smile. He held up the designs.
"When you're ready, let's see what you can do."
The next day he came in with two coffees: one for himself and one for Ariadne. He told himself that he was only doing it so that she wouldn't have to steal his coffee again, just like the pens. But then her entire face lit up the moment he set it down in front of her and Arthur realized why he'd really done it.
"Where's my coffee, darling?" Eames's demanded in a tone that implied that he was catching on to things a lot faster than Arthur. There was a wicked gleam in his eyes that should've been a warning.
"I don't buy coffees for forgers that annoy me," Arthur retorted. Ariadne made a noise that might have been a snicker but Eames just nodded and smirked.
"Ah, I see, just architects that you want to-"
"Eames!" Cobb interrupted the forger, breezing into the warehouse with Saito in tow. "We've got an in with Browning. Your flight leaves in two hours. That gives us just enough time to brief you."
Arthur released his clenched fists and relaxed his jaw. Eames was lucky that Cobb had impeccable timing and that Ariadne looked adorable when she blushed.
The warehouse was quieter once the forger left with Cobb and Saito. Hours passed and Arthur was so absorbed in his research that he barely noticed. It wasn't until Yusuf bade him good night that Arthur finally came to himself and realized the late hour. Shadows had crept up around the warehouse and the temperature had dropped significantly. Arthur stood and stretched, deciding to call it a night. He shut down his laptop and tidied up his desk. Then he reached for his coat, only to discover that it wasn't there.
Perhaps in his haste that morning to get to the architect he hadn't hung it up in its usual place, but after searching the warehouse Arthur still couldn't find it.
"Yusuf," Arthur called to the chemist who had stopped to do a final checkup on a trial he'd been running. "You haven't seen my coat have you?"
The chemist gave him a bemusing smile.
"Didn't you give it to Ariadne to wear?" he chuckled.
No. Seeing Arthur's blank face, the smile vanished and a furrow appeared between Yusuf's thick brows.
"I thought I saw her wearing it before she left. Earlier she mentioned to Eames that she was cold so I just assumed-" The monitor beeped and Yusuf's eyes snapped back to the screen. "Interesting, I wonder what would happen if…" Arthur took Yusuf's switch into his native language and dialect as his cue to leave.
The night was cold but the walk from the warehouse to his rented apartment was mercifully short. However, by the time Arthur let himself inside he was fairly certain of two things: A) the forger had stolen Arthur's jacket and given it to Ariadne and B) Ariadne would return it to him tomorrow with an apology or a thank you.
Arthur was sorely mistaken on both accounts.
One week and seventy-four hours later, Arthur and Ariadne were on a plane to Sydney, Australia and Arthur still did not have his coat or an apology. Arthur had dozed off for a "moment" and when he woke his carry-on was in the lap of his seat mate. The familiar head of loose brown curls was bent over the satchel; one of his pens (a new one) fisted in her slender hand and poised over an unfinished sketch she'd drawn in the Moleskine notebook he carried with him everywhere.
Arthur's eyes popped open and he almost lost it right there on the plane. It was one thing for Ariadne to raid his expensive collection of fountain pens, drink his coffee, and wear his coat and then never return it, but that notebook contained pertinent information concerning the mark, the job, and Arthur himself. If that were to fall in to the wrong hands it would jeopardize not only the job, but all of their lives. Inception was a serious business and clearly Ariadne was too naïve to grasp the gravity of their situation. Arthur wondered what the hell Dom was thinking dragging her into this and allowing her to go under with them. She was too young, too innocent, too vulnerable, and too pretty- Arthur clamped down on that distracting trail of thought and instead cleared his throat. It was about time he spoke to her about personal things that shouldn't be touched and boundaries that should be respected.
"Ariadne," he whispered, mindful of the others sleeping around them. "Ariadne," he repeated, when she didn't look up. He reached out a hand and touched her shoulder. She twitched and mumbled something, but instead of turning to him, she slumped forward until her forehead pressed against the back of the seat in front of her. Only then did Arthur realize that Ariadne had fallen asleep in that awkward position.
Arthur exhaled through his nose, releasing his frustration. She looked terribly uncomfortable. Arthur wanted to wake her, but he knew the importance of undisturbed sleep before a job. Deciding it would be best to let her sleep, he carefully slipped the Moleskine back into the satchel and replaced it on the floor between their seats. Then with the expertise of someone who spent too much time with unconscious people, Arthur wound an arm around her shoulders and gently eased her back into her seat with the other. Ariadne stirred when Arthur tried to detach himself from her. Her head lolled to the side and slid down to his shoulder, trapping his arm where it remained around her shoulders. Arthur knew just by listening to her breathe that she was deep asleep, but he still couldn't bring himself to remove his arm or nudge her head aside. She was so soft and warm that he enjoyed having her in such close proximity. Leaning back in his seat, he added his shoulder to the list of things Ariadne had stolen from him and resigned himself to his new position as his architect's pillow.
Arthur would never admit it but there was a part of him that thoroughly enjoyed being robbed by their architect.
Of course, the annoying Brit noticed.
"She has you whipped and you haven't even snogged yet," he said to him as he sat behind him in the Sydney Airport terminal.
Arthur ignored him or at least tried to. They were all supposed to be complete strangers waiting to board a business flight to Los Angeles (that hadn't stopped Arthur from sneaking several glances at Ariadne), but Eames could never bypass an opportunity to test Arthur's patience despite the job and their lives being at stake.
"Even if you finally do man up and shag her," the Brit continued, "you're always going to be her bitch."
Arthur hissed for Eames to go do something anatomically impossible with himself, but that only seemed to encourage him.
"Honestly, Arthur. The girl licks your pens, drinks your coffee, wears your coat, and she's gone through your desk, your purse –"
"It's called a satchel," Arthur corrected him through gritted teeth.
"Then she gets a hold of your diary-"
"It's a Moleskine!" he snapped back.
"-and starts coloring in the little hearts that say Arthur loves Ariadne."
"Mr. Eames if you don't shut the –"
"Now, now, Arthur, you know I'm only telling the truth," Eames interrupted, lowering his voice so that Arthur remembered where they were and who could be listening. "Besides we don't want to cause a scene with your little snuggle buddy –"
"Mr. Eames, I'm warning you…" Arthur growled.
"And I'm warning you, Arthur. If you don't do something soon, that girl's going to walk off with a lot more than your silly pens and your stodgy coat."
Arthur whipped around but the forger was already heading to the gate as the speaker overhead crackled to life.
"First class will be now boarding."
Arthur sucked in a sharp breath, checking his temper as he set about gathering his things. The Brit was always needling him about something, but never before had he gotten so damn close to the truth. As Arthur slipped into line behind Ariadne, he knew that Eames was right. Ariadne was slowly robbing him of everything that he had and Arthur was fed up.
Something had to be done before it was too late.
On the second level of the dream as the hotel shook, a wide-eyed Ariadne trembled, and projections snapped to attention; Arthur got his chance.
"Quick, give me a kiss," he told her, leaning in to steal a kiss.
Ariadne barely had time to turn her head and close her eyes before Arthur pressed his lips to hers. It was a short, chaste kiss but it was just enough to leave Arthur and hopefully Ariadne wanting more. Arthur reluctantly pulled away and Ariadne whirled around to face the projections.
"They're still looking at us." Her voice was strained with fear and something else. Arthur suppressed the insane urge to seize her in his arms and kiss her again. Later, he told himself.
"Yeah it was worth a shot."
He finally turned to look at the architect.
"We should probably get out of here," he suggested, watching and waiting.
She stopped looking at the projections, lowering her gaze for a moment. When she lifted her brown eyes to his, Arthur couldn't quite fight back a smirk. He could've sworn he caught her smile as he stood and led the way. Payback had never felt this good.
She shouldn't have been surprised when he stole her luggage off the carousel at the airport in the split second her back was turned. He certainly wasn't surprised when she showed up at his hotel room two hours later. He knew she'd gone through his satchel and his notepad for a reason.
As soon as he opened the door she pushed past him, stomping into the suite where her luggage was propped up against one side of the couch.
"You bastard! I filed a lost luggage claim and everything. You're lucky I had a hunch and already knew where you were staying."
Arthur shut the door and joined her in the living room.
"Yes, I was wondering how you knew where to find me." He sunk his hands into his pockets and waited for an explanation.
"Eames told me," Ariadne replied.
Arthur's lips quirked up at the corner. If it hadn't been for the fact that he'd caught her red handed with the Moleskine, he might've actually believed her.
"Is that so?" He arched an eyebrow. "And I suppose it was Eames who went through my satchel on our flight to Sydney?"
Ariadne's eyes flickered and her cheeks flushed. He could practically hear what was going through her mind as she changed tactics and stepped toward him.
"You had no right to take my luggage!"
"I thought it was a fair exchange for the violation of my privacy," Arthur said, narrowing his eyes. "After all you did go through my desk and my carry-on." Ariadne's face went a darker shade of pink; he couldn't tell if it was shame, embarrassment, anger or a combination of the three. He slowly stalked toward her. "Did you think that I wouldn't notice that you like to steal my things?" he asked harshly as he closed in on her. Her eyes widened but Arthur kept coming.
"Did you think that it wouldn't upset me?" he whispered.
She stumbled back a step as he invaded her space; the back of her knees hitting the couch cushions, forcing her to sit. Arthur loomed over her.
"Arthur, you rape people's minds for a living and you're upset that I stole a couple of your pens?" she laughed nervously. Arthur ignored her jibe and bent to grasp her shoulders between his hands so that she had to look at him.
"Ariadne if anyone else had gotten a hold of what was in that satchel the job could have been compromised. Inception isn't something that should be taken lightly. If Fischer were to find out what we were planning he could have put you behind bars for the rest of your life or tracked you down in Paris and put a bullet between your pretty brown eyes-" Arthur stopped himself as he felt a tremor of fear run through her. He'd said too much and gone too far. That had been completely unnecessary but feelings that he hadn't even been fully aware of had gotten the better of him. He hadn't realized just how much he cared about Ariadne and her safety until that moment. Releasing her shoulders, he sat down heavily on the edge of the coffee table in front of her. Dazed, he let the silence stretch out between them, wondering when and how Ariadne had stolen his heart.
"I'm sorry."
Ariadne's apology broke the silence, startling Arthur out of his reverie. She leaned forward, tentatively resting a hand on his knee. Arthur jerked at the unexpected contact and Ariadne squeezed his knee reassuringly.
"I should never have stolen your things or gone through your stuff," she whispered from somewhere behind that veil of curls, too ashamed to meet his gaze.
"Ariadne, look at me."
He reached out, finding her chin and turning her face up toward his. Her brown eyes and parted lips almost made him lose his train of thought entirely. But he had to know.
"Why'd you do it?" he asked.
"Oh, Arthur." She smiled ruefully. "All I wanted was to steal your attention."
The confession was so honest and shocking that for the first time in months Arthur laughed out loud. Ariadne's face fell and she tried to pull away but Arthur wouldn't allow it. She was misreading him, just as he had grossly misinterpreted her. Still chuckling, Arthur caught her face between his hands and pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth.
"Ariadne," he murmured against her lips. "You had my attention the moment you walked through the door of the warehouse."
He felt her smiling as his lips brushed teasingly over hers.
"Does this mean that I can keep your coat?" she joked.
Arthur chuckled into the crook of her neck, moving onto the couch with her.
"Maybe if you shut up and let me kiss you properly."
Ariadne laughed and Arthur finally pulled the thief that stole his heart into his lap and kissed her.
THE END
A/N: This turned out a lot longer than I expected, but I had fun writing this pairing and the story wouldn't leave me alone until it was finished. Sorry, as you can tell I desperately need a beta but I hope you enjoyed the fluff and I'd love to hear what you think!