Part 2: Boy's Club


"So," Dom said as he shut the warehouse door after entering, and both Arthur and Eames looked up from the blueprint they'd been studying.

"So?" Eames asked.

"So Sarah's taking off. "

Arthur frowned. "Damn."

"Damn?" Dom said, rather incredulously. "We're losing a fantastic extractor, and all you can say is damn?"

He shrugged. "She was a great girl."

It was Eames who was stifling a laugh while murmuring something along the lines of you mean a great lay, and Dom who was raking a hand through his hair.

"You know this is exactly why we can't even have a secretary, right?"

"To be fair, Amanda came on to me."

"You used that excuse for Genevieve too."

"And Mariah," Eames added helpfully. "Though Amanda did come on to him. Pretty thing, she was."

Arthur leaned back in his chair. "Oh, come on. Did you not see how good Sarah looked in that skirt?"

Dom's mouth twitched.

"...that's beside the point."

The smile Arthur gave was serpentine. "You're just jealous because I got under it. Also, you just proved my point."

Dom's mouth twitched again, more perceptibly this time.

"That's it. That is it. No more women on the team."

"What?" Eames and Arthur said in perfect synchronicity.

"You heard me," Dom fired back, his confidence growing with every word. "No more women on the team. If you can't work nicely with them, then we won't have them at all."

Eames threw up his hands. "That's it. I'm out of here."

Sitting up straight once more, Arthur's eyes narrowed.

"My libido hates you, Dom."

"Your libido almost got us a sexual harassment complaint!"

"Because there's totally a regulatory agency overseeing what we do. And for the record, that was Eames."

"Oh, fuck you," Eames growled. "How was I supposed to know you two were screwing like rabbits?"

"You mean besides the fact that she left some of her lingerie in my office?"

Unsure of any other possible course of action, Dom headed back for the warehouse door and left. There was a bar just down the way that served some really good scotch, and it was becoming rapidly apparent that he needed one. Arthur and Eames could work out whatever it was on their own.

What Dom missed as he nursed back his drink wasn't pretty. The open area of the warehouse became a battle zone in which Arthur and Eames proceeded to attempt to kill one another.

Fifteen minutes later, the two of them were collapsed on the floor, bloody, bruised, breathing hard, and clothes in disarray.

Eames reached up to his desk, grabbing a pack of cigarettes and laying back down. Lighting one up with a match from a book in his pocket, he took a pull at it with one hand, and then dropped the used match in the garbage can at his right side with the other.

"Nice right hook, by the way," he said, offering the cigarette to Arthur, who accepted gladly.

"Thanks," Arthur said, passing the cigarette back after a deep drag. "You've got to tell me where you picked up that sweep kick one day."

"British military. No-one ever thinks their combat training is worth a tinker's damn, but it's surprisingly thorough."

The two passed the cigarette back and forth in companionable silence.

Arthur looked pensive for a moment as he sucked back the last dregs of it. "Of course, we can never speak of this again."

"Well, that goes without saying."

Matching hums of agreement were made, and the two then set to cleaning up the warehouse. No sense in leaving any evidence.