WOW! this chapter took far too long to get up here (due to a combination of mac-fails and, mostly, me-fails) but before i begin, a few words for my glorious reviewers! who make my heart swell to 5 times as big! i don't care if that's dangerous, its a happy state to be in :D
oodles-of-noodles: first of all, your name. EPIC! it made both me and my bestest friend/stalker giggle like a pair of 5 year olds! i did feel slightly cruel making poor artie snap like that, but im sure he'll find someone to give him a nice soothing back rub *cough*EAMES*cough*
BULBASAUURRRRRR: *gorges self on cookies* why thank you oh mysterious and mighty lord of the pokemon! i do indeed plan to relieve at least some of the tension dans chapter 3 (how could i disobey my grass-type king) wouldn't want arthur to explode now would we, he's make a terrible mess of another of saito's assets. (p.s, you may just be my new favourite person ever for that brilliant review...dont tell lollymc)
anonymous:come out of the woodwork you darling thing! i shall continue for you!
penulis: i dont think anyone realises the true glory that is saito until they stumble upon this community, i had to build a tiny mental shrine to him after reading my first few "GEN - saito" fics! and thank you thank yoooou for your lovely comments :) i was really worried about this fic before hand, didnt think id be able to get the characters right AT ALL!
LadybugNixie: im not sure we can call them expressions...maybe Cobb should take to wearing a variety of masks that better express his emotions, if only to save innocent venders around the world. And Saito is a BAMF without any assistance, but hopefully Arthur can save him the (minor) hassle of having to find a new point man
and now! on with the fic!
chapter 2 - In which a note is received, and coffee is not violated
15 minutes after the outburst Arthur stood frozen at the top of the stairs, armed with nothing but a freshly renewed eye-roll and a triple shot, non-fat, sugar-free, 2 vanilla, white chocolate, white coffee mocha. Venti.
He breathed deeply in and out, mentally steeling himself for the inevitable bedlam that would follow his opening the door. A particularly astute architect he had once worked with, back when his career in extraction had barely begun, had taught him that in times of extreme stress he should he should visualise himself in a place far removed from any possible source of anxiety, count until all he was aware of was his breathing and the steady flow of numbers, then bring himself slowly back into reality - ready to face whatever was causing his tension.
When that failed, he bought a suit.
(Since the first time he met Eames, Arthur had bought a lot of suits.)
The fact that the warehouse was currently so quiet he could hear the seagulls landing on its roof did nothing to calm his nerves. Clearly Eames had just invented some new, silent form of anarchy. Perhaps it involved gags - the forger was certainly vulgar enough to consider it. Perhaps ,Arthur shuddered at the thought, perhaps Eames had touched his desk! Arthur could see it clearly, his files scattered around the tabletop in a filthy haphazard manner, one that would certainly pay no regards to any conventional system of organisation whatsoever! no doubt his meticulously labelled and dimensioned photographs of the marks childhood home been placed jauntily alongside the cleaning rota of his office in soho! The bimonthly company stock reviews lost amongst details of the champion racehorse Mrs mark had attempted to purchase last year.
(she had lost out to an anonymous bidder, who had paid 15 million dollars for 'the seattle mining co.' before vanishing back into oblivion. No matter how hard he tried, Arthur had been unable to find a single shred of information about this mysterious figure. He was 95% certain it was Saito.)
The world swam before his eyes as Arthur couldn't help but picture the depravities that could be befalling his beloved colour-coding system at that very moment. Unable to take the suspense any longer, Arthur pushed open the door.
something was not right.
where was the unavoidable mind-destroying chaos? why wasn't the furniture nailed to the ceiling? why was no-one's hair pink? Sure he still had the usual feeling of impending and embarrassing doom, but if anything that seemed to be coming from Saito's corner. Maybe, for once in his life, Eames had decided to be the bigger man.
Relieved, but still maintaining a certain amount of trepidation, Arthur headed back towards his desk, coffee held at the ready in the event that Eames attempted some kind of surprise attack.
Last week had seen the creation of the 'Team Friendship Fest' or, to be more precise, the 'Lets-see-who-can-surprise-hug-Arthur-for-the-longest-before-being-punched-in-the-face Fest'
(Eames's prospects for victory had looked good, until he developed both the counter-productive habit of yelling absurd things like "surprise man-love" when about to strike, and a penchant for nibbling on Arthur's ear during his self proclaimed 'bonding hugs', whereupon he would be quickly removed with a swift elbow to an area far lower, and far more painful, than the face.)
Then he saw it. Something had indeed infiltrated his precious desk-space. The neon-green monstrosity was lying just to the left of the mornings work, smack bang in the middle of stationary village. His vision blurred as he drew nearer to the interloper, which seemed almost to taunt him from its resting place between Biro Boulevard and the sellotape tree (his own genius invention – the stickier the tape, the higher up the tree, made out of cardboard by Ariadne, it went)
Practically shaking with disgust he picked up the post it note, instantly recognizing the handwriting of what was definitely becoming his least favorite (soon to be disemboweled) forger.
As he read it through Arthur's face displayed the kind of emotional changes mere mortals can only dream of. Cobb could only squint on in amazement.
Later he would try to imitate some of the expressions seen on his point man's face that day, the evening news reported an outbreak of minor earthquakes in the surrounding area, a global economy drop of 0.13% and the reoccurrence of 6 out of the 10 plagues of Egypt. Cobb saw this as progress.
(What the news did not report was the sudden and rather violent materialization of a mildly annoyed Japanese watermelon vender in a small flat in Islington. But it happened. Trust me.)
The note read as follows:
Mr Eames,
I am writing to apologeyes for my unecspected, and entirely uncalled for outberst erlier this afternoon. I am sorry if I have afended you, I can offer no ecsplanation for my acshuns, except for the fact that I reesently bought a new stick, which has of corse been plaiced up my ass. I have not had time to get yused to it, and unfortunatly it is so high up that I beleeve it may be affecting my brain.
My previus notes should have made my feelings for you clear, and I hope what I sed did not lower your apinion of me.
yours, Arther
(please note the correct spelling of my name, I even checked with Yoosuf to make sure I got it right)
This meant two things.
1) Eames was about to discover a myriad of new and exciting forms of pain. Right after Arthur enrolled him in a Basic English class
2) He needed to have a serious chat with Yusuf. Not only had the chemist willingly gone along with a plan that involved defiling Arthur's workspace, he may also have undone years worth of attempts to get Eames to spell his name right.
Glad that he had practiced his beloved eye-roll on the way over, Arthur slipped into his most determined "I have several degrees in Badass-osity and right now Im going to be employing them all to kick your ass" face, and set off for a word with his chemist.
PHOOO! that chapter took far to long to write...and pretty much nothing happened. its main use is as a stepping stone to chapter three, in which ALL SHALL BE RESOLVED! and which will take far less time to write as i've already planned it ;)
it will also feature far more Eames/Arthur dialogue for my beloved sMoKa (sorry there wasn't any in this one :( but there was a note! hopefully that makes up for it a bit)
there will also be mild slash (I fail at smut, its due to my innate innocence *feigns innocent face*) warning in advance for any non-slash fans out there!
also, maneh maneh cookies & cream ice cream for anyone who can identify the origin of stationary village - which sadly, i do not own. woe is me :'(
reviews win surprise man-love from Eames, ear-nibble optional.