My first Inception fic! Ha. I hope you guys like it.
Inception is the brainchild of Christopher Nolan (who is a total GENIUS.) so I don't own it, or Arthur or Ariadne. But they are ADORABLE together.
For all those people out there who love Arthur who's so incredibly old school cute (:
They stand together, clutching matching coffee cups even as they look out over the river together, with the Eiffel Tower standing in the distance. She is laughing at a story that he recounts for her, from his old days with Cobb and he discovers that her laughter, is rather like the ripples of water that catch the afternoon sunlight- a pleasant and beautiful sound that makes him want to smile too. She is dressed in a huge overcoat that dwarfs her small frame- his overcoat- and the wind blows, ruffling her hair and barely touching his neatly slicked back do. He smiles, as he thinks the same thought that he has been running through his head all week, like a half forgotten childhood rhyme that he has recently remembered.
I could do this. I could be with her forever.
He doesn't say this out loud though. No. Arthur does not do mushy. Or poetic. He leaves that to Eames (although the thought of Eames saying this to her gives him an uncomfortable, squirming sensation in the bottom of his gut that he tries very hard to ignore.)
Instead he settles for another sip of coffee, and she mirrors his action with hers, her eyes losing their laughing edge even as she gazes up at him.
Every part of him is so impeccable, so neatly groomed. From his hair to his clothes, from the way he stands, proud and tall- almost like a statue carved out of marble standing in the sun before her- that she feels a sudden pang at herself- standing small and almost insignificant next to him. And yet under that seemingly calm exterior she knows- the phrase, "Still waters run deep," spring to mind."- so many thoughts, so much knowledge is whirring about in him. How is it possible, she wonders to herself. How can it be, that someone can possibly be so perfect and know… everything?
She is so lost in her thoughts that she fails to see that she is crushing her cup of coffee in her hand, the last drops falling, falling, falling into the river below her- until his hand, warm and gentle removes the crushed paper from her fist with a quizzical and bemused smile. She watches his retreating back as he throws the both cups away, and that's where the challenge is born in her mind.
When he walks back, he's surprised to see her eyes shining again. But pleasantly and gladly surprised. He could have sworn a minute ago that she was thinking of something unpleasant, from the way her eyes clouded over and a pensive expression took over. He wished he'd been better with women- skipping over those few affairs which never ever came into the realm of dating. Perhaps then he would have known how best to comfort her, how to make sure that expression never came back. He had sighed then, at his own incompetence and idiocy, making sure to wipe off his frustration before turning back to her.
But now here she is, standing in front of him, with what can only be described as a teasing smile- a smile that propels him to ask, "What is it?"
"I want to put you up to the test," She juts her chin out at him, hands on her hips, and heaven help him, but he can't help but find her extremely adorable just at that moment. "I want to see, if you know everything."
She draws out the last word and her smile is so infectious that he can't help but smile back at her before tilting his own head to the side, mirroring her posture and raising his eyebrow in a silent acceptance of the challenge.
"The River Seine is 486 miles long, its name originated from Latin… it means sacred. And…"
He looks over to see her silently shake her head, and he stops, puzzled. When she speaks again, her voice is softer, almost as if she's self-conscious of the next words that fall from her lips, "Tell me everything you know about me."
That's easy. He watches her even as all the information he'd gathered on her when they were working together starts spilling easily from his mouth. It should be. He remembers how thorough he was in her case- perhaps more thorough than he usually was- but he'd ignored that little detail. He found that he'd wanted to know everything he could have found out about her, where she was born, did she have siblings, when she was younger, had she wanted to be an astronaut first or a doctor or an architect immediately, whether she'd had any boyfriends in the past. Not that that would bother him. He just wants to know.
Even as he talks about the puppy she had when she was 7, she slowly moves closer to him. She knows that there's another reason why he knows so much about her, not just for the sake of research and she wants to know what it is. Better, she wants to hear him say it out loud.
And so she reaches up and touches his lips gently, stilling the information that he's sharing with her, and in that simple gesture, she can feel his entire body go still too- something that sends simultaneous shivers down her own spine.
She catches his dark eyes, which are already locked on hers. "Tell me everything you know about me, that doesn't come from a computer, a public source or the internet."
He looks away then, even as her arm drops back to her side, falling silent for a while. She too is quiet, expectant. Wanting to hear more and hoping- he has more to tell. She knows it's hard for him, him whose whole world has been the facts, statistics but she wants to know more. She looks away too, biting her lip and wondering if she should have asked such a brazen question in the first place.
"When you start work, you always tuck a pencil behind your ear and forget it's there till half way through."
She turns back to him, a tentative smile gracing her lips. And he meets her eyes, smiling more confidently now even as he pulls out all the thoughts he'd had on her ever since he met her.
"On Mondays to Wednesdays, you smell of peaches. On Thursdays to Sundays you smell of strawberries." She smiles guiltily then; she has this bad habit of switching shampoos to keep things from getting boring. "You like to hum Somewhere Over the Rainbow under your breath."
This time he steps closer. He wishes he could find more words to tell her how he think she's the most beautiful girl he's ever met, and he wishes they could have met earlier. Instead he settles for touching the side of her cheek. "You'v e a little dimple here," He lets his fingers touch the little dent softly, moving his fingers down the side of her jaw until they rest on her chin and he senses her sharp intake of breath that makes him want to grin in a manner that would be so unlike him.
"And…" He uses his other hand to push back a lock of hair that has fallen across her face. "You always look like you're going to hyperventilate when I'm going to kiss you."
Her eyes widen then and her mouth opens in an instinctive protest but he doesn't let her get the words out- just closes his mouth over hers in a gentle kiss. This is so much different from the dream- in his dream, where the projections were staring at them and the kiss was nothing more than a brushing of lips. But perhaps it was from that simple kiss that hooked him. He feels her kiss him back- that in itself sends a million emotions spiralling through him, like an out of control firework and he deepens it, forgetting for a moment, his restraint, his control, everything. Just her.
Finally they break away and her arms are still around him. Not that he's complaining. He likes them this way. That's where they should be. She buries her face in his shirt and inhales the smell of Old Spice and something that just reminds her of him, feeling his arms close around her too and his lips touching the top of her head once again and she smiles against the fine linen.
"I do not look like I'm about to hyperventilate every time you kiss me." She mumbles into his chest to hide her blush and as muffled as the words come out, she can feel the laughter rumble through his body. She loosens her hold on him and leans away to look up better into his face.
"Well then," He raises an eyebrow in a way that she can only describe as mischievous. "I guess we should rectify that situation." He says it so matter of factly- almost like forecasting the weather that she only grasps what he's really saying a few seconds later that causes another smile to break across her face.
And as his lips meet hers in another heart stopping kiss, she admits, grudgingly that perhaps he does know everything. And that perhaps this kind of perfection can be possible.
Cute. Hehe. I'm thinking of writing another chapter. Let me know what you think! Review (: