the day starts at crap. it goes downhill from there.

warnings: post-movie (slightly AU?). OC: Tak Shibuya (Saito's niece) and Saja (Yusuf's sister). language: pg-13 (for s*** and g**damn).

pairing: a little Arthur/Eames.

timeline: several months post-movie; later in the same week as Welcome to Miami.

disclaimer: Chris Nolan owns Inception and its characters.

notes: 1) Eames likes to test Arthur's patience. because he can. 2) the Wonderland watch was first described in White Rabbit. on its reverse face is an engraving of the Gryphon and the Mock-Turtle. 3) ...i wear Eternity for Men because my dad wore it, so it's a nostalgic scent for me. 4) as always, the Breakfast at Tiffany's references. if you've never seen it, Holly Golightly coasts through life as a Powder Room Girl (a pretty girl who gets paid to go out with men) and throws huge parties full of people who barely know her. she has a cat whose name is 'cat,' because she refuses to name it until she 'finds a place to belong to.' when Tak says "the cat," she's referring to Eames. 5) inductive reasoning holds that the past cannot infallibly predict the future. we have no way of knowing in advance whether even things like the laws of physics will apply. Eames and Cobb briefly mentioned inductive reasoning in Feigning Blindness. 6) Arthur went to Miami to talk to Michael Westen as a favor to Jake Jensen in Welcome to Miami. 7) we saw in Don't or Can't that spats between Arthur and Eames make Eames into a short-tempered slave-driver. 8) "ETA" = "estimated time of arrival." 9) "Tak's usual mixture" includes a sedative, because she's an unstable sleeper.


A Winning Team

"Right, I'll see you at ten," sighs Arthur, hanging up his phone.

Ariadne was not originally part of the plan. In fact, he'd been heavily set against including her, partly because Yusuf experiments far too boldly even when he's not given explicit permission to experiment. Tak has trained and worked closely enough with Eames that Arthur is fairly confident in her safety. And Dom will, of course, be there with them, ready to help prod the metaphorical bear.

He has a gun trained at heart-height when the front door of his suite opens.

Eames pretends to be offended. "Darling, what can you think of me?" he gasps.

"That you should know better than to show up early and not knock," Arthur replies.

The forger saunters right up (close, too close), tilts his head, blinks those gorgeous eyes in mock-innocence. "I was sure you knew I don't. Didn't you miss me, dear?"

Arthur's ears feel hot, so he frowns sternly, sidearm still trained on Eames' heart. "I can always try again—I have a whole clip."

Eames laughs and looks pleased with himself. "Now, Arthur, we both know that if you were going to shoot me, you'd already have done it, and you would've aimed for my knees first. Think the question over again, mm? And before you answer, could I trouble you for the time?"

In an automatic motion, Arthur starts to lift his wrist, stops, reaches into the pocket of his waistcoat instead. He freezes, thumb pressed over the smooth roundness of the Mock-Turtle's upturned face.

"Something the matter?" Eames just keeps smiling, leaning down enough that Arthur can catch a faint hint of his scent—fabric softener and the unmistakable almost-tacky come-hither tang of Calvin Klein (for God's sake, who the hell wears Eternity anymore?).

Arthur draws out the Wonderland watch and stares fixedly at the face. The unsteady twirl of the hedgehog gives him time to collect himself. "Ten to nine," he says in a hushed voice. He clears his throat and repeats it more loudly. For Darling Arthur, the engraving glints in its tasteful but whimsical script lettering.

"Did you miss me, darling?" Eames asks again, from far too close. There's an edge (a fluffy, warm, well-padded edge) of affection in his tone, and Arthur knows that if he dared to look up, he'd see that terrifying twinkle in Eames' eye. It could be a beautiful twinkle, a cause for hope and joy, if only Arthur trusted Eames.

He doesn't.

He wishes he did, but he doesn't.

Eames lies too much, at the wrong times and about the wrong things, to earn Arthur's trust.

Eames dips his head a little lower, ostensibly to look at the watch himself. He's close enough now that Arthur can feel the heat of his skin. "I've been thinking that we should work together on something like a permanent basis. You can plan your way out of anything and I can improvise my way out of anything—we'd be unstoppable."

"Are you plotting to rule the world?" snorts Arthur.

"Come now, darling…we'd be a grand team, you and I. I could take you to places Cobb can't even imagine. Assuming we could work that specificity kink out of you."

Arthur clenches his jaw and thinks for possibly the hundredth time that Eames really should be bound and gagged before Arthur can try to get anything productive done. "We're here for work; be serious, Mr. Eames," he grunts, snapping the watch closed.

"I'm being perfectly serious. And I know you'll consider the offer for the same reason I know you missed me."

"And why's that?" Arthur asks, knowing he'll regret taking the bait as he finally sets his gun aside.

But as soon as the gun is out of the picture, Eames' lips are on Arthur's cheek. Fleeting, warm, soft—like every kiss Eames has ever put in exactly that spot.

Arthur wishes like hell he trusted Eames…but if this is just another game, just some little adventure to pass the time, just the way Eames wanders through life, catlike and unattached as Holly Golightly…

If there is one thing Arthur refuses to be, it's some charming liar's little adventure.

"Because in all the years we've known each other, you've never yet hit me for doing that," Eames says smugly.

"Don't get cocky—the next time you drop a rock, it might fall up."

Eames laughs and wanders toward the coffee table to flop down on one of the armchairs. "Yes, as you and Cobb are so fond of pointing out. Overconfidence is the number one cause of death in forgers, haven't you heard? Like curiosity and cats."

Something twists in Arthur's gut. He ignores it.

"What have you been up to since Tokyo?"

Arthur makes a face before he can stop himself. "I went to Florida."

"I can't see you enjoying Florida, unless you went to meet Mickey."

"Disneyland is better bang for your buck," Arthur dismisses. "I went to Miami to do someone a favor."

"That sounds like a work favor. Darling, you really never stop working, do you? That's frightfully unhealthy."

"Save the condescending mother-hen bullshit for someone who needs it."

There's a long silence. When Arthur glances in Eames' direction, the man looks taken aback.

Great. Just what he needs—he's upset the delicate balance of their forger right before another training session.

God damn temperamental forgers…

He hates breaking his rule about apologies, but Tak and Ariadne don't deserve to be bullied just because Eames is in a bad mood.

"I'm sorry I snapped," he says tersely.

"Oh, yes, you're just dripping with sincerity, aren't you?" drawls Eames. "I neither want nor require your false coddling, Mr. Clarke. If you're feeling ill-tempered, I shall simply leave you be."

Arthur's head is starting to ache, just over his eye. He bites back a retort (it'll waste more time, especially if the bickering goes on until Tak and Yusuf arrive). Food. Food always does the trick. "Have you eaten yet?"

Eames settles into his chair a bit more, indolent and catlike as ever. "I'll have the Belgian waffles again, they were excellent last time."

Better. Arthur breathes a little easier as he dials room service.

Yusuf has a pair of bellhops with him when he arrives—one to hold the door and the other to carry in some large and very suspicious looking cases. Tak slips into the room as they leave.

"Time to play mad scientist?" she asks.

"No," Arthur sighs. "Cobb sent for Ariadne. We're waiting on her. He wants you to work on synergistic architecture some more. ETA is…" He flips open his watch again. "…an hour, assuming the plane is on schedule."

"You don't look well. Working too hard is unhealthy, you know."

He glares at her. She's probably immune, if the placid look on her face is any indication. "Yusuf, please tell me you have good news."

"Oh, yes, very," says the chemist, pulling out a cork-stoppered bottle from the neat rows within one of his cases. "Saja's notes and the sample you sent were quite informative. I'd already had something like this in the works, but seeing how the dealer managed increased militarization—of a sort, anyway—gave me some clearer ideas of how to accomplish the opposite. I haven't tested it with a PASIV yet, but it should be safe. We'll have to keep a closer eye on cranial temperature spikes, perhaps."

Tak frowns. "I'm not sure how I feel about the phrase 'should be safe,' in relation to intravenous chemicals and potentially lethal amounts of heat in the vicinity of the cat's brain."

"You want safe, go home and bake cookies, Miss Golightly," Eames mutters.

Arthur flinches when she turns on him.

"Arthur," she says, with a patiently exasperated look straight out of Saito's playbook. "What have you done to the cat this time?"

He glares again (still with no appreciable result). "I believe the answer to that question is mind your own goddamn business. Now, testing the new compound will be the last thing we do today—Cobb's dropping in for it, and he specifically said not to do it without him and not to use sedation, except for Tak's usual mixture."

.End.