A.N: Yay, for the first fic of winter break! This is something I thought up awhile ago but didn't have time to finish. It's not amazing, but it's done.

Disclaimer: I do not own Inception.

When In Rome

Long after the inception of Robert Fischer had hit the world of dream share, Arthur was getting calls and emails left and right. The pay was good, the jobs were interesting, and Arthur had many opportunities to show off his abilities as the best Point Man.

He could pick and choose. He could go where he wanted and travel how he wanted. For the latest job he took a train for the last leg of the journey, the sound of the wheels on the tracks a comfort that he never understood Cobb's distress over. Something about the vibration, the man had said once, evasive and strange as he became more and more wrapped up in his constantly waylaid journey home. Arthur would have compared Cobb to Odysseus if he weren't so sure that it would be an insult to great poetry.

Arthur had done everything he had to do for Cobb, everything he had promised he would do for Cobb. The man was home and safely out of dream share- the farther away he stayed from a PASIV, the happier Arthur would be. He was satisfied by the occasional text message or picture of the man and his sweet children. Texting was safe and easy; he could communicate but not feel so connected to the message.

In truth, Arthur was still a little stung over Cobb's behavior during the inception- the way that he had screamed in Arthur's face for having missed the signs of Fischer having been militarized. It had taken a lot to not punch Cobb. He had to fall back into his professionalism, remind himself that he really shouldn't punch Cobb in the face, not while everyone was watching and they had the very real chance of getting trapped in Limbo if they were distracted by a fist fight.

All it meant now was that Arthur was even more vigilant, never wanting to make such a mistake again. So, after getting off the train, taking a taxi, and arriving at his latest job, Arthur set to work looking up everything- and he meant everything about their latest mark. It was supposed to be a simple extraction, a very standard 'one company wishes to possess the secrets of a rival company and is willing to pay a lot of money to have it done as seamlessly as possible'. Well, considering that there wasn't a law against dream share as of yet, it wasn't something that was officially recognized as anything but clever genre hybridization- like a science fiction/ heist film! And of course, it was definitely stranger than fiction.

Arthur got there first, of course. He got into the small set of rooms he had secured for this job and began to work on his research of the business man he was to help steal secrets from.

His name was Sawyer Williams and he had started his business from the ground up in security technologies, Arthur could see from a cursory search and intended to go deeper later. Sawyer was happily married, had two young children, and also happened to be a nudist.

This last part wasn't as easy to find, but once Arthur latched onto this tidbit of information, he began to search for more. Several cups of coffee later, Arthur had found that it wasn't something widely known; apparently Sawyer kept his private life very very private. It was a wonder he left so much available, but then, no one would have thought that Arthur could find out their secrets through hacking and persistence.

People who thought that they could keep a secret on the internet were fools, so Arthur carefully compiled his report, pausing to print out copies and put them into separate file folders for his team, and then taking a red sharpie and underlining the word nudist. Not satisfied with that, Arthur circled it. He nodded to himself and took a break, certain that he had done everything in his power during the preliminary search to find possible problems. While this wasn't as disastrous as militarization, it could pose a problem when they entering Sawyer's mind.

It became obvious that this opinion wasn't held by his team. Well, there was one person that gave a damn, but Arthur was too willing to believe that Eames was just setting him up for a joke.

"Hmmn," Eames said, looking at his file folder and nodding. "This nudist thing concerns you." The Forger was tracing the red line around the word nudist, frowning thoughtfully to himself. "You pressed that pen down awfully hard…trying to make a point?"

Arthur nodded. "I've never really extracted from a nudist before, but previous extractions I've done on other marks living secret or double lives end up having manifestations within the dream. I just don't want us to run into any surprises. We should be prepared."

Eames shut his file folder briefly to smile in Arthur's direction. "I hope you aren't uncomfortable with the nudist thing- it's all very natural and kind of freeing! Just looking at the cut of your trousers, I'd say that you are very aware that the human body can be a work of art."

And that smile became just a tad bit sultry, forcing Arthur to frown in response. "I know that you come off as a stick-in-the-mud, darling, but you're not as prudish as you allow people to believe."

"I just wanted everyone to be aware. The last thing I want to hear is 'We didn't expect this level of violence from stark naked projections!'"

Eames snorted at Arthur's paraphrasing what Cobb had said before. "I'm sure that it will be fine."

The others were a harder sell. They didn't believe that it would be a problem. Their Extractor was confident that it wouldn't be that hard to get the information they wanted, screaming naked projections ready to tear them apart couldn't be much different than clothed ones, right?

Their Architect had a similar opinion, but still blushed to herself every time Arthur said the word nude. There was a moment when Arthur thought to call up Ariadne and beg for her help and politely send this girl away- she was a competent Architect, methodical, and precise, but she spent more time blushing like a school girl and playing with her glasses, avoiding making direct eye contact with him. He'd kill for an Architect with Ariadne's ability to adapt, her ability to be direct.

But he wasn't going to get it. After having plead his case and receiving very little in return, he simply went back to work- in the midst of his usual research he found that Sawyer came from a family of nudists! How he had managed to keep it quiet was amazing. The further Arthur went, the more he found. That Sawyer was involved in many nudist activities and clubs; Bird Watching in the Buff, the Exposed Murder Mystery dinners, Bare Necessities cooking classes, and table tennis because not everything in his personal life had to involve a pun about nudity.

As the plan progressed, Sawyer and his lifestyle were given less and less attention. They were given their marching orders, what they were to look for, and devised the plan to get Sawyer alone. The business man, not visibly uncomfortable in his neat suit and tie, was easily snatched at his dentist's office. Arthur kind of felt bad about it, but it wouldn't have been the first time they had used these types of appointments to get their marks at their most vulnerable moments. Their Architect stood as their sentinel and watched over them in the cramped exam room; she busied herself by setting up the PASIV and helping them hook up to the machine.

"I'll give you guys the kick if I notice something's up," Bonnie said, carefully passing the tubing from person to person, watching as each man found viable veins and sunk their needles in at the bend of their elbows. Sawyer was already knocked out and attached to the PASIV, pleasantly unconscious.

Arthur nodded, reclining as best he could in the chairs they had found in the room. Their Extractor, Donovan waved one hand, nodding to Bonnie. "Hit it!"

Bonnie pressed the button and Arthur's perception of the waking world dropped away, filmy as tissue paper, ripping away as he fell asleep and opened his eyes to the first level.

Arthur was completely unsurprised to find that all the projections were naked, he'd assumed as much as soon as he discovered Sawyer's particular lifestyle. Sawyer's mind was populated by a variety of projections- young and old, men and women, as well as a mixture of races and ethnicity's. All were nude or wore some abbreviated form of clothing to identify themselves- like, far ahead of them, walking at brisk pace was a female police officer patrolling what appeared to be a large communal park. All she was wearing was her police cap, aviator sunglasses, heavy belt with badge and billy-club attached, and a gun in a shoulder holster.

The three dream workers were quiet as they her watched come close to them.

"She hasn't seen us yet," Donovan said, smirking at Arthur as if he had been proven wrong, "Guess that we aren't in as much danger as you thought, right?"

Then, Donovan frowned, maybe seeing what Arthur was wearing for the first time. "What-?"

And then, the partially nude female officer sharply turned her head and spotted Donovan. As one, several groups of projections stopped what they were doing- whether it was families barbecuing, college kids playing Frisbee, or homeless people digging through the trash cans lining the dirt path they stood on- all projections looked at them, suddenly aware and hostile.

"Donovan," Arthur said softly, "Why are you wearing clothing?"

The Extractor was wearing something similar to what he had on topside. Casual polo, jeans, and sneakers. He didn't care for suits and Arthur didn't think it mattered much, but he had expressly suggested in his notes, the notes that were about two inches thick and had taken him forever to compile, that they enter the dream in some level of undress to blend in. But maybe he hadn't taken them seriously- Bonnie had been slightly uncomfortable with the suggestion and volunteered to stand guard over them, instead.

When Arthur looked at Eames over his shoulder, he almost cursed when he realized that the Forger was still clothed and was busy staring at Arthur's getup.

Arthur had taken his own advice, but wasn't certain that he wanted to go completely naked- he wasn't shy per-say, he just was particular about who he was naked with. He didn't like Donovan and he was willing to admit to himself that he liked Eames a bit too much.

Arthur's costume relied on suggestive humor but still worked. He was wearing a sandwich board and nothing underneath. It hid his front and back but left a large amount of bare skin exposed from the sides. It was drafty but a good way of blending in. Arthur could pass as a concession guy, roaming the park advertising his wares. The front of the sandwich board said Foot Long Kosher Hot Dogs with a helpful picture of a big hot dog. The back said Soft Buns and also had colorful pictures of hot dog buns. It was funny, playful, and fit the requirements in Arthur's opinion.

"Eames, if you don't Forge your clothes away they are going to rip you apart," Arthur hissed at the Forger, smacking one hand against the other man's wide and still clothed chest. "Remember? When in Rome, you do as the Romans do." Eames shook it off and did exactly as Arthur said, paying no attention to how Donovan screamed bloody murder and tried to flee from the spot, a trail of avid nude projections chasing him!

"My god," Eames said, now standing without a shred of clothing on, at ease but holding a gun without any idea of where to put it. He recalled the police woman and created a shoulder holster for his weapon, putting it away to have his hands free. "Did you ask for me to dream the first level because of how bloody stupid he was going to be? Those projections are," Eames swallowed and looked away, because further down the lane Donovan and run into a group of nude cyclists and was being torn apart by the mob. Eames didn't have to say the obvious; Donovan was dead meat and had most likely woken up.

"Yes, Eames. I knew that you would follow instructions. The projections are less likely to come after us if we blend in; Sawyer's subconscious likes to be naked so if we stay naked or close to naked we won't be as suspicious as we try to complete the job."

It was true. They began to walk, searching the park for clues, for places that Sawyer would have been likely to hide his secrets. They didn't see a conventional safe to crack so wandered down the lanes and grassy areas of the bright and happy park. The few projections they saw didn't bother them- in fact, a gardener wearing a straw hat and carrying a large bucket filled with pruning and weeding equipment, spotted them walking past and cheerfully waved. They waved back, perplexed but pleased by the positive reaction.

"It's beautiful here," Eames said, as if he didn't know that this park was a recreation of Sawyer's favorite place, a place he had explored as a child, a place he had taken his children to. They had already decided that it would be easier to take him to a spot where he would feel more comfortable. Cracking a safe in his office while he was forced to play his role as 'dressed for business Sawyer' might make the job more difficult. No sedation needed, just less clothing and an idyllic setting.

They avoided the playground and searched among the trees and grassy areas.

"Of course it's beautiful," Arthur said, breathing a bit labored as they climbed a hill and searched for one specific feature. They were looking for small dark places, spots a child could hide something. It would be more obvious than a mole hill or a spot in a garden. His work was his life, but Sawyer had built his company and his technologies from the very bottom up. The ideas were dear to him. He would be careful with where he placed his plans but had one spot that he could associate hiding his secrets for sure.

Together, Eames and Arthur had discovered where this place could be. When they learned of the park they had also learned a childhood story of Sawyer's- there was a small wishing well here and when he was a boy he would regularly pitch pennies and dimes to have his wishes granted. When he was a young man he had gone back there, back to the park he loved as a young boy and pitched a penny into the small wishing well, wishing for good luck to start his business and safely get it off the ground.

Sawyer was known for making references to that wishing well when he spoke of his company, his successes, and his dreams. It was a silly little thing that some of his critics mocked him for, but both Arthur and Eames agreed that it was a good enough place for them to offer Sawyer as a spot to hide his secrets in.

But, then their issue was finding it. Having looked through interviews featuring the 'wishing well story', after having memorized Bonnie's maze and discussing the exact placement of the wishing well, Arthur was still having trouble finding it.

Eames believed that this was the time to chat about his Point Man's choice in costume.

"So, Foot long Kosher Hot Dogs, eh?"

"Not quite foot long, no." Arthur answered, refusing to blush.

"Very good use of suggestive humor though. Reminds me of that Wallace and Gromit movie."

Arthur paused and stared. "What in the world are you talking about?"

Eames smirked, "You know, the 'Look at my wife's brassicas' line or the scene where Wallace uses a box to cover his lower body and the box says 'may contain nuts'?"

Arthur snorted, kind of unable to stop himself. Some people liked to think Arthur had no sense of humor or that it was very dry. But sometimes Arthur could have a very silly sense of humor. He just wasn't proud of it.

He took a moment to look at Eames, like really look at him. Well built, solid muscle and tattoos, Eames wandered the park with Arthur in the nude like it was the most natural thing ever.

"You seem very comfortable," Arthur couldn't help but comment. Keeping stride with Arthur, Eames raised his eyebrows and then broke direct eye contact.

"I'm fine enough," then he mumbled something that Arthur only caught the tail end of, "- making it a little bit hard."

Arthur wasn't about to ask. He wasn't going to make this anymore difficult than it had to be. They were wandering around a lovely park with the wishing well now in sight! They didn't need to make it any worse.

As Sawyer said in one of his interviews, once again telling his cute little story, the wishing well was in between two large trees, how he had thought that the trees were so tall but realized when he visited again when he was older that the trees had time to mature like he had. In the dream, the trees were very tall with thick branches and healthy foliage. The wishing well that Sawyer visited as a boy was probably just ornamental, but in his mind with a little nudging from Bonnie's architecture, the well was more ornate. It was a little larger, made of heavy gray stones. The well was deep and full of clear water. As they stood in front of it and peered down into the depths, Arthur leaned forwards and tried to reach one hand into the water. He could barely skate his fingertips over the surface of the cold still water and grunted in frustration. His sandwich board was restricting his movement. He drew back his hand and didn't even think about it; he reached for the straps and yanked the sandwich board off of his shoulders, and leaning it against the side of the well. Unencumbered, Arthur leaned over the well, ignoring Eames's sudden gasp. He didn't care if Eames had a great view of his ass, there was work to be done, damn it!

He had his arm submerged in the well to about his upper arm, trying to ignore the chill while he fished around. Numb fingers skated across something he didn't expect- he had felt smooth sides of pebbles, something that may have been vegetation, fistfuls of coins, and then, something vaguely rectangular. He plucked at it, finally getting a decent hold on it and pulling it out of the water.

He was holding a file folder- it was completely sodden, but when he opened it up to read what was inside, Arthur touched bone dry paper. He could smell fresh ink and noticed the hand written notes, figures, and calculations. These were the latest plans for Sawyer's company. After looking at it more thoroughly, Arthur was certain that this was what their client was looking for. He almost tried to stuff it the pocket of the jacket he wasn't wearing, pressing the wet file folder against his side before pulling it away and frowning to himself.

"Well, that was a little stupid," he said to himself, shaking his head and wondering why Eames wasn't laughing at him. He looked at the other man and found that he was holding the sandwich board in front of him like a shield, hiding the lower half of his- Arthur's eyes widened briefly.

"Really, Eames? You manage to hold off the entire walk through the park but I lean over a damned well and that sets you off?"

Eames cleared his throat and shook his head. "Not, um, not set me off, exactly. No, you, well you wouldn't have noticed but you kind of have that effect on me."

Arthur raised his eyebrows. "I've been naked in front of you for what, thirty minutes? An hour? I would have noticed if you were," Arthur unexpectedly floundered; he couldn't force himself to say it. Hard, erect, stiff, etc, etc. Eames had been in a state of arousal without Arthur noticing- that made him feel a little…rude? Impolite? Disappointed, even?

"No, darling," Eames said, rallying and offering him a grin. "I was forging myself flaccid. The things I do for you, Arthur!" And he sadly shook his head.

"Flaccid?" The cogs were turning and Arthur frowned. "I didn't help any when I dropped the sandwich board to go fishing in the wishing well, did I?"

"Not your fault," Eames said, not blaming the Point Man. "I'm terribly attracted to you, that's just a fact. You have a great body, in or out of a suit. And when you leaned over the side of the well, I got to admire your soft buns." Then he waggled his eyebrows at Arthur, making something that is just a little bit embarrassing a little bit funny, too.

Arthur wanted to be embarrassed, hell, he wanted to be mad. But it was too ridiculous! He started to laugh, holding his prized folder of information, watching as Eames pressed the sandwich board back against the well. The man didn't appear to be in distress and appreciated the humor of the situation, too. They laughed together and congratulated one another on a job well done, despite the odds and the challenges. All they had to do was wake themselves up, ditch Sawyer and let him finish his dentist appointment, and bring their information to the client.

But, they paused for a moment and looked into the wishing well.

Eames had looked at the still dripping folder and winked at Arthur. "Here, pass it to me!"

Arthur did so, and watched as Eames held the damp folder in one hand, seeming to be counting the little drips of well water from it. Then, as if it were magic and not just dreaming, Eames plucked at a droplet of water as it fell from the sodden paper folder and at his touch the drop of water manifested into a coin the Forger made dance along the back of one hand. Arthur smiled and clapped for him, watching as Eames performed the same trick and passed him one of the flawless shiny quarters.

"Care to make a wish, darling?"

Arthur held the coin and noticed how very cold it was, the same temperature of the water it had been manifested from, considering the wish he would make.

He prepared to do so, closing his eyes and preparing to drop it in, letting the quarter go back to being the water it started out as. But he felt Eames closing his hand around the one that held the quarter ready to tumble into the well. He looked over at him, surprised at how close he was, but equally surprised at how comfortable he was. He wasn't even wearing his stupid sandwich board, standing as naked as the day he was born next to a guy he had already told himself probably wasn't the safest choice as lover but still was too alluring for his own good. Being attracted to Eames was one of Arthur's only bad habits. There had to be a reason why he still chose to work with him that didn't neatly fall into how they were the best of their fields, so why shouldn't they get together?

"Remember," Eames was saying, "In order for it to count, you have to say your wish out loud and then drop the coin."

Arthur nodded and squeezed the coin in his fist. "I wish," Arthur began, having a panicked moment where dozens of possible wishes occurred to him, things that weren't so serious, things that were too personal, and things that he knew he couldn't get from tossing a coin into a well. Eames had stopped holding Arthur's hand closed and instead left his palm sitting against the back of Arthur's hand. Then something occurred to Arthur; it wasn't a sudden idea, it was something he had thought about for a very long time. He had just asked himself hadn't he? He knew the reason why he worked with Eames, if it wasn't just because they were the best. So he said it, once and for all.

"I wish to be with Eames."

And then, before he could take it back or change his mind, Arthur dropped his coin.

Eames was there still, a warm and comforting presence. "Not only do you have a sense of humor, darling, but you are also a romantic." Arthur could hear the smile in the other man's voice.

"Just shut up and wish for me, too, Mr. Eames," Arthur said, feeling relaxed and calm, eager to get this job over with so they could start whatever was coming next. Eames did the same and dropping his coin into the well.

He pressed a soft kiss against the Point Man's cheek. "You blush terribly when you think no one's looking- in the very beginning, I called you darling to see you get all flushed and angry."

Arthur pressed one hand against his other cheek to test and see if he were really blushing or if Eames was winding him up. He was, but he decided that glaring into the well would ruin the moment. "Now you use it to identify me- I'm darling Arthur," the Point Man said, smiled at Eames who nodded.

"I know about wish master rules. If I just said Arthur it could have been any Arthur. If I said darling, the same might have happened. But, if I combine the two, I get to have you- my darling Arthur. Do you think we should get Sawyer a gift?"

"Why?"

"Because it was his wishing well that prompted us to be terribly, terribly sappy?"

Arthur pulled away and shoved Eames lightly, certain that Eames could tell he didn't mean anything by it. Arthur was smiling wide enough that his dimples were showing and that was something that he knew that Eames had a special love for, even if the other man thought that his ass was something spectacular.

"Come on," Arthur said, "Let's get out of here. I want to hear Donovan bitch about being torn apart by angry nude projections. I want to get to wake up in my suit and get out of the dentist's office."

"And?" Eames prompted, using his free hand to pull the gun from his shoulder holster.

"I thought that it would be obvious," Arthur said, crossing his arms over his chest, "I want to take you back to my hotel."

"Say it again?" Eames asked, a little vulnerable, rubbing two fingers together where Arthur was sure Eames was itching to pull his poker chip out of thin air, like he had with the drops of water and the quarters.

"I wish for you," Arthur said.

"One more time?"

The music started play, something that that Arthur was unfamiliar with. It wasn't their usual musical countdown; the music, something instrumental but kind pretty, was filling the park and making the sky widen to the breaking point. The notes floated in on the wind, rustling the leaves of the trees; ruffling their hair.

"I wish for you, Eames," Arthur said as the world shattered around them, forcing them awake as the timer ran out.