Look at me! I'm kind of on time! Huzzah! (Bahaha. I wrote that on Wednesday)
Quickly, let me tell you that y'all are SO amazing. This is by far my most successful (119 reviews for 9 chapters?) story and it is all because of you! Gah! Every time stupid school makes me feel down, I just think of y'all and wah-bang! I feel better.
Any of y'all play Dragon Age? Any of you? Because the second one has become my most recent obsession…
Ties
Chapter Ten
Wherein Ariadne realizes that Arthur isn't made out of rocks
The grain on the wood was quite a lovely thing, she decided. So many lines, all running together and yet a part of a distinct group. If she were any kind of deep thinker or philosopher, she would find a world meaning in those lines. They were so… parallel. They looked like stacked paper but they stuck together, even when they had to run around a knot in their perfect pattern. Ariadne searched for a soul defining meaning in the wood. Because her brain seemed to be intent on analyzing any words but the ones Arthur had just spoken.
"Because you were the one that distracted me."
They echoed around in her skull like a racquetball in a cave.
"Because you were the one that distracted me."
The wood was textured. If angels ever ran out of harps, way up there in the clouds, they could play their heavenly music on the ridges of this wood. She would not think about Arthur and his words. She would not over analyze them and end up being dumped to the side of the road like odd pieces of plywood.
And yet, she knew that if she didn't face up to them, there would only be awkward looks from here on out. Car rides would be torturous. One look at Arthur's searching face told her that much. There would be no peace at mealtimes. There would not be teasing and playful ragging. No, all that would stop.
Oh, and going to bed for the next few days would be a joy. Ariadne could almost feel the oppressive air of the embarrassment she would feel as she pulled her quilt up to her chin. There would be no rest. Every move would remind her of who was asleep on the bunk below. She had never been good at science, but she always over analyzed things. She would spend her whole life wondering if she didn't ask Arthur what in the world he meant by those words.
"Because you were the one that distracted me."
Ariadne knew she was over reacting (and over analyzing) but she was a female. And he was a very attractive male. She had to know what he was thinking.
"Ummmm…" Ariadne managed to squeeze out of her mouth before shutting her lips. She had no idea what she was supposed to say. "Please explain?"
Arthur, too, seemed very interested in the veins of the wood. As he picked at the wood, Ariadne refused to let her mind think that it was a harp. Because no angel would torture her like he did.
"I, er…" Arthur began, biting his lower lip. It seemed that Ariadne wasn't the only one with a mouth that shot off like a cannon when its owner was least expecting it. It was obvious that there were a few words that Arthur wanted to net and pull back into his mouth.
For once, Ariadne felt a bit more in control of the situation. She was in no ways cool and collected—her face was about the color of a stoplight and her palms had enough sweat on them to grease a bike chain. Her courage mostly came from the fact that Arthur looked just about as red as she did. And it was strangely comforting to see Arthur uncomfortable. It proved that there was actually a heart beating in that chest of his, and not just a rock rattling around to sound like a pulse.
She waited for him to continue. There was no use in pushing him. Arthur was about as stubborn as a mule and just about as hard to move when push came to shove. He would talk when he needed to. He must have learned that particular habit from his Step-father. Ariadne absentmindedly thought that it would have been nice if Rachel had inherited that trait from her father. Ariadne was so wrapped up in her wishful musings about a quiet Rachel that she was startled when Arthur started talking again.
"Well, there's no way around it. It's true."
Ariadne blinked in surprise. And then blinked again. Arthur's face had cleared up. It was no longer red. It was no longer carried the expression of a cornered animal. And suddenly, Ariadne didn't feel in control of the situation any longer. There was the same old face on Arthur. It was the face of a man who had had a shoot-off with himself on a dusty road and had come off on top. He had a face of the man who had come to a conclusion, and there was no turning back.
And Ariande had the feeling that she was about to be barreled over by his train of thought.
"I'm kind of tired of denying it. To myself. I've always been very honest with myself about things—I know my short comings."
Momentarily Ariadne wondered just what his shortcomings were—Not liking Tuna Casserole was hardly a short coming: He managed to choke it down like a pro.
"Your shortcomings?" Ariadne nearly let out a puff of laughter.
"Haha." The laugh was not amused. It seemed that Arthur would not be distracted from his task. He was just like that: always forward thinking. No looking back, no looking to the side. Nothing would distract him from the job at hand.
And yet, there she stood: Ariadne, the exception to the rule.
"I'd never messed up on something before. See, unlike some people in our troupe, I like working for my pay and not doing a half hearted job to get full plus benefits." It was obvious he was talking about Eames. Ariadne had to agree. That man took coffee breaks between every thirty minute session of spinning on his computer chair.
"Then came the Fischer Job. Don't ever tell Cobb this, but I was excited to do it. I was excited for the challenge. I relish working on dreams." He seemed to consider something for a second. When he resumed talking, his train of thoughts had completely jumped tracks.
"I'm a person reader. I think my biggest hobby is just studying people and trying to figure out what's going on in their brain. I like reading facial expressions, body language. Each person is a different puzzle. It's a chance to see if I'm as perceptive as I'd like to think I am. If I pick up on the minute details of a person and guess what's going on, I consider it a personal victory when I'm right. It gives me an ego boost. If I'm wrong about a person…" he stopped and furrowed his eyebrows. "Well, I've never been wrong."
Ariadne scoffed. "It's that a little bit… high thinking of yourself?"
Arthur turned his furrowed eyebrows toward her and raised them very, very slowly. "Well, if we want to be factual, I never have been wrong. I might have had no idea about a person, but in those cases I didn't even try to guess what was going on with them. All of the times I've guessed, I have been right."
Ariadne wished for a moment that Arthur was not an alien boy. His uknown father had obviously been an alien because only extra terrestrials would have the brain capacity to tangle with the problems Arthur faced. And with such grace and finesse and success. And only aliens would have the technology to turn her knobby knees into space dust and her eyes into flying saucers every time he came around.
"So I was excited to get to know Fischer through my observations."—ah, it finally tied in together—"and to figure out a way to plant an idea. To tell you the truth, that power is almost God-like. Ideas are what spawn everything we've ever made. A steamboat came from an idea. A printer, an airplane, the PASIV, even the humble marshmallow. I was excited to exercise that power, to see if it would work."
Arthur sighed and steepled his fingers.
"And then you came along. You, the budding new architect. So fresh faced. So worried and concerned for Cobb. From the moment I saw you… I knew what to think of you. For those months that you sat across the aisle from me, there was no need to guess what you were going to do next. I just knew what was going to happen. There was and is something open about you. There's no hiding anything with you. If you're sad, you're sad. If you're worried, you frown. If you think something's stupid, you raise your eyebrow at it. You are the perfect example of body language. You were so easy to read, I didn't have to guess.
"I guess I just got passive with my observations. I got careless and lazy. With you, I was always right. I even stopped guessing because I knew that I was right. I knew I was. And I love being right. So I spent all of my time watching you, waiting for me to be right. You proved me right with every move you made. I knew that you were right handed before you started writing. I knew that you were the kind of person that liked Billy Joel and Neapolitan ice cream before you ever showed an interest in them. Your favorite channel to watch is the History Channel, isn't it?"
Ariadne furrowed her eyebrows and nodded. She had a soft spot for documentaries and shows with deep announcer voices. She wondered if there was some telling sign. Did she have it written on her forehead? The way he read her made her think that he could read minds.
"See, I'm always right." He smiled briefly, and then he went back to frowning. Obviously missing something on the Fischer job had made him unhappy.
"I was so caught up in always being right that I let things slip through my net. I got so full of myself that I slacked off in my duties as information gatherer. If I could read you as well as I could, I thought, I could read anyone. I got cocky. I got full of myself. When it came to Fischer, I thought that I knew everything…"
He trailed off. They sat in silence for a while the only sound coming from the woodland creatures outdoors. Ariadne swore she heard a rabbit leaping through the grass outside. At any other time, she would have run outside to see it—it wasn't often that she got to see wildlife, living in the city and all. But now was not the time. Arthur had done the most talking he had in a while.
"And so when we figured out that Fischer's mind was militarized, I about had a heart attack. I had let something slip through. I wasn't the brick wall of defense the team needed."
"And this was all my fault?" Ariadne asked, smiling.
"And it was all your fault."
There was an awkward silence before Ariadne said, "Oh, sorry about that then. You must have felt pretty down for a while. You know—almost getting Saito and Cobb killed and all must have been a real rainstorm on your parade."
"Don't be sorry." Arthur said quickly. "I actually don't regret it."
Ariadne had to take a moment to stretch her neck. At his last comment, Ariadne had looked so quickly over at him that she had cricked her neck. It was uncharacteristic of him to be so blunt and so uncaring. Cobb was his best friend—his nearly being stuck in Limbo must have been at least slightly devastating.
"Say what?" Ariadne asked, her tongue nearly getting ahead of her speech.
"No, well that sounded weird." Arthur rushed to clarify. "Cobb and Saito being danger was no good. But all that I learned about you… I wouldn't give it back. It's what made me like you as much as I do."
"Wait… you like me?" Ariadne nearly squeaked, voice raising to a pitch nearly akin to a dog whistle.
Arthur sighed and leaned back in the high barstool he was sitting at. "I thought we already went over this."
Ariadne's eyeballs must have told him that she had not understood what he was talking about. "You like like me?
"Do we have to regress to middle school? Yes, I like like you. All that studying I did of you over the last months lead me to believe that, yes, I do 'like like' you. "
"Like, you would consider dating me?"
"Yes, I would consider dating you. In fact, I'm asking you right now."
Ariadne's brain flashed into overdrive, resorting to her childhood way of dealing with stress
Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall
Ninety-nine bottles of beer
Take one down
Pass it around
Ninety-eight bottles of beer on the wall
Arthur liked her… and wanted to date her…that was a new concept to think about. He was so… stoic. She never expected him to have any feelings towards her except: angry and less angry. Or completely indifferent. And yet here he was, bearing his very soul to her—
Ninety-eight bottles of beer on the wall
Ninety-eight bottles of beer
Take one down
Pass it around
Ninety-seven bottles of beer on the wall
-no, she had to think about it. It would do her no good to clam up here. This boy, the boy who had haunted her dreams—the very boy who made her glad she had stopped dreaming for a while—was saying that he liked her. And, oh my goodness, she had used "like like." What must he have thought of her? ("Bahah! That girl Ariadne—she looks like a middle schooler and talks like one too. She's a riot, that girl.")
Back to coping—
Ninety-seven bottles of beer on the wall
Ninety-seven bottles of beer
Take one down
Pass it around—
"Ariadne?" Arthur's hand was warm on her arm. And that was saying something, seeing as how Ariadne was hot enough to make microorganisms form a new ecosystem in around her.
"Yes?" If her air supply had been any more cut off, she would have died of asphyxiation.
"Are you going to say anything? I kind of just bared my soul there. I just destroyed my manly image by telling you that I like liked you."
-ninety-six bottles of beer on the wall!
"Ah… right." Her voice was shaky. "You're sure you like me?"
"Uh huh," Arthur nodded.
"You sure you aren't just pulling my leg?"
The look Arthur gave her told her that there was no way he would, should, or could pull someone's leg. Doing so would be akin to jumping a fence or stealing an old person's walker to run around Wal-Mart.
"Oh, well you aren't pulling my leg. I just wanted to make sure, because, well… I kinda sorta like you a lot too."
She felt so elementary saying it that way. What a lousy way to sum up all of her feelings. The things she had mused on for so long, rolled up into such a poorly constructed sentence. In all of her fantasies about her and Arthur confessing their undying attraction and love for each other, she had never pictured herself so… ineloquent.
And the words "like like" were never ever considered, nor thought possible. That was for certain.
But the look on Arthur's wide face told her that there was nothing to be worried about. For once his stoic expression was replaced by a genuine smile. His eyes lost the worry that usually accompanied them and the frown lines that usually accented the corners of his mouth were gone.
He didn't give her a lousy half smile.
He gave her a full smile.
And better yet:
Dimples.
Dimples deep enough to serve soup out of appeared out of nowhere, so deep they threatened to make permanent wrinkles of their own.
The silence that filled the woodshed at that moment was awkward, that was for sure. But it was a comforting awkward. It was the silence of a kept secret; the silence of two friends who had just shared similar embarrassing experiences.
Which Ariadne realized: both were true. Only they were more than simple friends now.
"Well, that certainly makes my life a bit easier." Arthur said after a few mintues of avoiding eye contact. "Now I can be completely honest with you."
"Didn't you always say that honesty is the best policy?" Ariadne teased, glad for the break in the silence. She bumped her elbow against his arm. She expected it to feel different, now that she knew what he felt about her. But it felt the same. She was not disappointed. She didn't want anything to change between the two of them. She just wanted things to get even better.
"I did, and I still hold to it." Arthur held up a knowledgeable finger, as if pointing to himself as the one who knew what was what. "I will, however, say for the sake of honesty, that while I was always one hundred percent honest, there was a ceiling to my honesty. I did omit facts if it suited my purposes."
"So you were honest to a point?" Ariadne summarized, starting to gather up her chosen wood pieces once again.
"Indeed," Arthur answered, scooting away from the work table to get out of the way of Ariadne's reach.
"But now you are going to be completely honest with me?" Ariadne began stacking the wood, longest to shortest.
"Indeed," Arthur said again.
"So tell me this," Ariadne said, pausing in her stacking. "You said that watching me is what made you like me. What is it about me that you saw that made you like me?"
"You want to know why I like you?" Arthur asked, raising his eyebrows. Ariadne wanted to comment that he was a fine person to look at when you wanted to know what to look for making other people feel stupid.
"That's what I asked, isn't it?"
"Okay," Arthur gave her a quizzical look. "I've already answered this. I like you because there are no questions with you. You are what you are, and very blatantly too. I don't have to guess with you. You think something is cute, you coo at it. You get angry and you stomp you foot."
"Wait." Ariadne held up a halting hand." You're saying that you like me because I'm easy to read?"
"No. I'm saying like you because I don't feel the need to figure you out. Because I don't need to figure you out. I already know you."
So, whaddya think? I know it sounds weird, but I tried to make that as awkward as possible. I can't picture these two having an overly dramatic or romantic get together. What do y'all think? I'm really nervous about this chapter. But I got tired of seeing lovey-dovey confession scenes between Ariadne and Arthur in other Fanfics. So I went out on a limb and wrote a really, really, really awkward scene for the two of them. And I think it fit! At least I hope it did, cuz that's all you're getting
Oh, and let's not forget the fact that this girl is incapable of writing anything but awkward "romance" scenes. (Notice how I put romance in quotation marks? I wouldn't even consider this romance…)
Oh, FYI. I don't know if you've noticed, but I love using "train of thought" in weird-o personifications/metaphors. I think in every piece of writing I've ever written I've had someone bowled over by someone else's train of thought. I can picture it: a giant train called Thought plowing over a poor cartoon version of whatever character I happen to be writing. It makes me laugh to myself. And sometimes, it even makes me chuckle aloud. And then I get weird looks. But then I raise my eyebrow at my fellow man in a "What do you want/what are you looking at me for/freak! Look somewhere else" way and they leave me alone.
Dude. I can't even form coherent sentences. Gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh. It's time for sleeping.
Review pleases! I'll give you assorted cheeses. (Can you tell I need sleep?)