Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Inception franchise. Characters and ideas belong to their original creator.
I would appreciate any sort of feedback you have - it motivates me to update more often. I would also appreciate feedback on whether you all prefer Arthur/Eames or Arthur/Ariadne.
Anyone reading my story The Rift in the Relations, I do apologize for the wait. A new chapter will be up by this weekend.
Eames is a tolerant person, but right now he mostly just wants Ariadne to shut up.
His fingers curled around the handle of his coffee cup and he tried to ignore her voice echoing through the house. This wasn't the first time he'd been left wishing the living room and kitchen in Cobb's house weren't connected.
"Arthur, you need to eat something," Ariadne cajoles.
Eames has been trying to talk to Yusuf for the past five minutes, and her voice is extremely loud and distracting. And irritating. But mostly just irritating.
In the arm chair across from him is Yusuf. Saito stands by the fireplace looking suitably stoic and almost comically out of place in the quaint home. He has the couch all to himself because he's sprawled across it, elbow propped on the armrest and chin in one hand while he has his coffee in the other. It's not a particularly large piece of furniture, and his still shoe'd feet are almost going off the end- Eames is also ninety nine percent sure Cobb has told them all at least ten times to take of their shoes as not to trek mud all over the carpet. He's also sure that he might bother to follow that rule if someone else was.
Dom had been present earlier, but left to walk the dog so it would stop barking. Said dog had not been part of the Cobb household until approximately three weeks before. The extractor had been adamant that a pet was just the thing that they needed to complete the family. James and Phillipa had been thrilled, by Eames was fairly certain that the man was still trying to find some way to make up for being away so long.
Ariadne and Arthur were at the kitchen table. He was stoic and brooding, and elegant, as always, fingers absentmindedly tapping out a consistent rhythm on the table top. She was possibly the opposite of eloquent, he noted. The architect was jutting out her lower lip and cupping a hand under Arthur's chin, pouting at him.
"I'm not hungry, Ariadne," he pushes her hand away, turning his head to the side slightly. Eames isn't positive, but he thinks he sees a flicker of annoyance in the point man's eyes. There's a cup of coffee sitting by his elbow, but he hasn't touched it. "I have a bit of a headache, honestly."
It worries Eames, just a little bit, or rather, more than a little bit, that it's bad enough for him to admit that. He's worked with the man for years and he's well aware that if Arthur admits weakness, then there is a goddamn serious problem.
He also knows there's no good in trying to persuade him to go back to bed, or rest, or take the day off, and resolves to tell Cobb as soon as he gets home.
"It will help if you eat something," Ariadne was undeterred, reaching across the table to pick up a doughnut from a box of assorted pastries in the middle of the table. Sometimes Eames thinks that Cobb is an omniscient presence because he has no idea how the man managed to pick up breakfast and already be up and out of the house before anyone had a chance to say good morning. Or, at least, before Eames did.
"There are no statistics that prove eating help," Arthur shakes his head and then grimaces.
"There are no statistics that prove that it doesn't help, either," she parries.
"Ariadne, love, leave him alone."
Everyone is staring at him and the forger is fairly certain that he would be staring at himself were it possible for eyes do to that sort of thing. Because there's no way those words just came out of his mouth. Only he's the only Brit in the house. And the only person who would give the architect a pet name. Yusuf looks a mix of uncomfortable and strained. Even Saito has deigned to raise a single eyebrow in his direction.
"If he wants to collapse from malnutrition and lack of energy, that's his business," he can't look at anyone, especially not Arthur, who is furrowing his brow and trying to look perplexed and irritated at the same time. Or, at least, that's what he thinks it is. It's difficult to tell, but either way, it's adorable.
Maybe everyone is staring because he's never been the sort to tell someone off for giving the resident stick in the mud a hard time.
Or maybe they're staring because he's usually the one waving food in Arthur's face and lecturing him on eating disorders with a smug smile.
In fact, Eames isn't quite sure why he isn't at the table with them. Or why Ariadne is at the table. Because he's pretty sure that harassing Arthur has always been his thing, flirtatious teasing that leaves everyone smiling down at their papers and looking away so that the point man doesn't see that they think it's funny, because he certainly doesn't.
There is the jingle of keys in the door then the sound of it swinging open and a dog panting, all of which announce that their leader has returned.
"Daddy!" The kitchen is suddenly a flurry of activity as Cobb walks in at the same time James and Phillipa race through and throw themselves at him, like they do every time he gets back from somewhere because somewhere in their little minds, they are probably worried he will leave again and not come back.
Yusuf looks somewhat amused, possibly because they were to absorbed in morning cartoons to return any of the team's greetings, but always seem to be able to distinguish the presence of their father.
It's no longer an anomaly for Cobb to call each of them just before midnight and invite them over for breakfast the following morning. This has to be the third or fourth time now, and Eames would be lying if he said he didn't look forward to these calls.
"Down, Morpheus," Cobb addresses the shaggy golden furred dog, whose fur is just a little too long and tail a bit too curled for the animal to be a purebred retriever.
Morpheus either doesn't know his name, or doesn't know what down means, because he's still up on his back legs, pressing his paws against Cobb. It might be more effective to tell his kids to get down, but they probably wouldn't listen, either.
"Good morning," the architect says and Eames rolls his eyes because the girl is goddamn chirruping it, like a little fluttery bird.
"Morning, Dom," Arthur echoes, with far less enthusiasm and that has the extractor looking over at him with a frown.
"Have you eaten anything?" Having successfully subdued the dog - who is now nearly knocking James to the floor as the boy tries to wrap his arms around Morpheus's stomach and pick him up or hug him or some other impossible action for a child of three- Cobb has maneuvered his way over from the back door into the kitchen, stopping behind Arthur's chair to place a hand on his shoulder.
"No," the architect answers for him, which is somehow far more annoying than Cobb bothering Arthur about his nutrition.
"Arthur can talk."
He's getting odd looks, once more, from all but Cobb, who is too preoccupied with the point man and the little girl hugging his knees. Though Ariadne's look seems to be more of an irritable stare, maybe even a challenging one.
"If you don't eat, you're taking Morpheus for his evening walk," the extractor says.
The goddamn dog has to be walked at least twice a day, and the forger has no idea how Cobb would manage to force Arthur to take the mutt out, but he's pretty sure that Cobb would make it happen.
Arthur's immaculate cool is crumbling, and he frowns at Cobb but doesn't argue. They've all learned pretty much not to do that, by now. It's impossible to win. It's a few more moments of heavy silence before the point man reaches across the table to take a doughnut and set it on his plate.
Glazed. Circular, smooth frosting, nothing falling apart, unlike the chocolate with sprinkles that the architect is indulging in. Eames can't help but think it reflects the man's persona rather brilliantly.
He is jarred out of thoughts of symbolic morning pastries by their leader's words. "I'm taking the kids to the park when they're done with breakfast. Any of you up for going?" He asks, as he sweeps Phillipa into his arms.
"I'll go," Arthur surprises them all by volunteering, picking up a fork (why is he using a fork to eat a doughnut? It's rather endearing, but honestly, so unnecessary) and using the side of it to cut a piece out of the doughnut's side.
"Me too," Ariadne chimes in.
"Ariadne, I thought you and I were discussing the structural design you would be rendering for my company this morning," it's the first thing Saito has said all day and Eames sort of wants to kiss him for it.
Only not. Because it's Saito. Maybe a hug, but somehow he can't see that going over very well either. He resolves to be flirtatiously complimentary at a later date, which he hopes the other man will loosely interpret as a thank you.
"Oh, of course, I'm sorry," she apologizes, looking a little put out, but not about to turn down a job opportunity.
"Not until you finish eating," Cobb tells Arthur, smiling, though, because they all think it would be nice if he got out a little bit more. Even if it's at the park with his best friend's kid.
"I'll go," offers Eames, quirking a smile, "three is the charm." And then he can't resist turning the grin on Arthur, who looks away, chagrained.
"Three times is the charm," Ariadne corrects him.
"Making mistakes and discovering them for yourself is of great value," he's not sure where the quote comes from, but he thinks it fits the situation.
"Shelby Foote," Ariadne tilts her head to the side, flipping her hair much in the manner of a cheerleader, though he's certain she was in the nerd clique. "Who went on to say," with a pointed look, "but to have someone else to point out your mistakes is a shortcut of the process."
Damn women and their two part ideas. "Women should be seen and not heard," the only comeback he can think of.
"Men are stupid." At least she's as out of ideas as he is. For some reason, he's hoping that Arthur takes note of the fact that even though she had the last word, he was more articulate.
"Enough, Eames and Ariadne," there is just enough warning in Cobb's voice for both of them to stop. He is glaring at them with a burning blue gaze that makes him want to shrivel up.
Ariadne mumbles apologies but all he can bring himself to do is stare at his lap, gripping the handle of his mug even tighter. It's all too easy to ignore Yusuf's poorly timed joke about him trying to strangle the cup. In fact, he's always been rather skilled at ignoring things. People. Irritating people. But Ariadne has been a burr in his side all day and there's something about Arthur's every little move that has him at distracted.
He's not sure exactly when this started. Some time between the Fischer job and now, he supposes. Or maybe it was long before that, back when they first did a job together. There was always something thrilling about making Arthur shoot a biting remark back at him, but now, he's fairly certain that he'd rather see him smile.
And if they're playing their cards, he'd just like to say that He Knew Him First, thank you very much.
When he looks up Ariadne is smiling at him, but it's not a blissful smile like she sometimes wears in dreams, or a shy one. It's smug. It's challenging. And in every way matches the raised brows, small smirk expression that Eames tosses right back at her. They both mean the same thing.
It's on.