A/N: Alright! We're on a roll, despite spending my days packing up my life into boxes. But this is the chapter you've all been waiting for :) Special shout out to reviewer and author madcowre, who's Blush is one of my favorite A/A fanfics out there, and I am incredibly flattered to get the attention and favoritism.
Disclaimer: I do not own Inception (unfortunately). All the characters belong to the mad genius that is Christopher Nolan. However, all the new character are mine mine MINE!
Ariadne had been back in Paris a little over five months before Arthur turned up on her doorstep. Despite her change of address to a slightly larger apartment in a more reputable area of the city thanks to her take from the Fischer job, Arthur seemed to have no problem tracking her down. 'But that's what I supposed makes him the point man,' Ariadne had thought at the time. Following a just slightly too long moment of staring at one another, she invited him in for a cup of tea, wincing as she took in the state of her apartment.
Shoes were spread all over the front mat in various states of disarray, while her living room was a jungle of half completed and completed models of buildings and paradices. A small-scale model of the Penrose stairs she and Arthur had walked not so long (yet so long ago) lay suspended from the ceiling above the coffee table. Several sweaters and a blanket were thrown haphazardly over the back of the couch, and her cluttered bookshelf was overflowing with filled sketchbooks, books on architecture, and various popular novels.
As Ariadne walked further into the apartment, she glanced back at her silent companion. He was just slipping off his shoes and placing them neatly side-by-side near the door, but at her gaze, he looked up at her and gave her a small smirk. Ariadne felt herself flush before walking quickly into her kitchen. "Christ…" she murmured, "it's been five months, girl. Get over it." Unfortunately though, it would seem that Fischer wasn't the only victim of inception. One quick kiss from a man she barely knew in a dream nonetheless, and Ariadne's mind could not stop thinking of the possibilities, of where else it might lead, but as soon as they returned to reality, they were strangers.
Even after they left the plane and baggage claim at LAX, none of them acknowleged one another. Ariadne knew that it was the plan, but it still hurt to see Cobb race off without another word, Yusef push his laden baggage cart out the exit without even one of his small gentle smiles, Eames wander out in search of a taxi without a signature wink in her direction, and Arthur… well it just hurt to see him leave at all.
Ariadne didn't know how long she stood there, watching the doors the point man left through, but she knew it was too long once she noticed the looks other arriving passengers sent her way. With one last glance at the exit, Ariadne turned on her heel, heading to departures and Paris, but the entire flight back, her restless dreams were of a terse point man in three-piece suits and slicked back hair.
"I'm glad to see you put your money from the Fischer job to good use," Arthur said, making Ariadne jump. She turned to find him leaning on the doorjamb of the kitchen, watching as she sent him a glare, filled the teakettle, and placed it on the stove.
"Yeah well, I had a lot left over after I paid off the rest of my tuition, so it seemed like a good idea," Ariadne replied. Arthur nodded before moving out of the kitchen to peruse her living room. Ariadne felt herself blush again. Somehow, seeing Arthur in his expensive suit standing amid piles of drawings, models, and charcoal made her feel incredibly self-conscious. She felt his eyes move over the endless dreamscapes and structures, pausing briefly to take in the suspended paradoxical stairs.
"How have you been sleeping?" he abruptly asked.
Ariadne started, "Huh?"
"Sleeping. Have you been sleeping at all?"
Ariadne hesitated, "Yes." Arthur turned to face her, taking in her face. She hesitated again. She wasn't clueless—she knew about the ever-present circles slowly growing beneath her eyes that she carefully tried to conceal each day before heading to class. But she knew that with his keen eyes, even he could see the fatigue in her face.
"Let me rephrase that," he said. "Have you been sleeping well?" Ariadne gave him a rueful smile in return.
"Still dreaming?" he asked.
"Yes…"
"Nightmares?"
"Some," she answered. Although, Ariadne had put a bullet in the woman in limbo, Mal Cobb still had the tendency to show up in the architect's dreams, a large silver knife gleaming in one clenched fist. Ariadne didn't bother elaborating that the only dreams she had not considered nightmares were plagued by another threat—the projection of the man currently standing in her apartment. Granted most of those dreams ended with her waking up need of a cold shower…
"It happens," Arthur went on. "But they go away in time just like every other dream."
Ariadne waited a beat, "Did you have nightmares?" Arthur's jaw clenched just slightly before he met her gaze. Just as Ariadne was about to press further, the shrill whistle of the tea kettle broke the silence, and she hurried into the kitchen to turn off the burner. Grabbing a couple of mugs, she placed a tea bag of Darjeeling Limited in each cup and then filled each with boiling water. She picked up both mugs and returned back to the living room, handing Arthur one of them. He thanked her politely, and she sat down on the sofa, placing her mug on the table to allow the tea to steep. There was another short silence, and she blurted, "What are you doing here anyway?"
"I had some business to take care of in the city," he answered, moving to look out one of the windows.
"Ah I see," she murmured. Ariadne didn't know why, but she suddenly felt an enormous sense of fatigue. It enveloped her completely, and she felt her stomach twist into an uncomfortable knot. "So this isn't a social call," she muttered.
"What?"
"Nothing. I take it you have a job for me then?" she inquired. Something in her tone must have startled him, as he turned from the window to look at her.
"Yes, something has come up." The knot in Ariadne's stomach doubled over on itself and sank like a stone. "You're not obligated to say yes," he continued.
Ariadne was quiet for a moment before answering, "Could I think about it?"
Arthur nodded, "Of course, but I'd like an answer soon. If I have to find another architect, I'll need to start looking."
"I understand," Ariadne tried desperately to keep her voice from shaking. What had she been thinking? They weren't friends! Hell, they were barely acquaintances! She was the architect, nothing more and nothing less. She stretched out a fairly steady hand to reach for her mug but was startled when a hand grasped her wrist, interrupting its path. Ariadne looked up to see Arthur set his mug down on the table and take a seat next to her on the sofa, his left leg barely brushing her right.
Gently pulling her right wrist toward him, he focused his gaze on her hand and started to lightly trace it with the fingers of his free hand. His cool touch made her shiver slightly, and she stared almost in disbelief at the top of his head, the gel in his hair just slightly reflecting the afternoon Parisian sunlight. Arthur slowly halted his imaginary doodling on her palm and said quietly, "I didn't come here to demand you take another job with me… but I'd like you to," and he raised his gaze to meet hers.
Ariadne felt the knot in her stomach loosen abruptly, and still keeping his eyes locked to hers, Arthur gently leaned down and pressed his lips to her open palm. As suddenly as the oppressive feeling came, the weight lifted off Ariadne's shoulders and the knot in her stomach dissolved into a frenzy of nervous activity. He stared at her, waiting for her reply, and for the first time in her life, Ariadne found herself at a loss for words. The quick and brilliant architect just gaped at the point man. Several long moments passed and Ariadne felt his grip on her wrist loosen slightly, and to her distress, she saw his jaw clench ever so slightly as he started to withdraw.
"Wait!" she managed to stammer and snagged his hand that had just released his wrist. "Quick, give me a kiss." Arthur smirked and leaned forward, capturing her lips with his own. She felt his tongue lightly trace her lips, before permitting him entrance and allowing him to languidly explore her mouth. Ariadne felt him lift his free hand to encircle the back of her neck, and fire raced up her spine unlike anything she had ever felt before. At the next sweep of his tongue, she found herself responding in kind, and then two tongues were battling for dominance.
How long the kiss went on for, Ariadne couldn't say, but when they finally parted, she found herself gasping for breath, and she was amused to see that for once, the point man seemed slightly off kilter. At some point that she couldn't remember, she must have grabbed his jacket, because she found herself slowly unwrapping her fingers from his lapels, leaving small creases in the once pristine fabric.
"You still haven't answered my question," Arthur murmured, his lips just barely brushing hers.
"Well, it was worth a shot," she replied with an impish smile and leaned forward to press her lips to his once more, regrettably but necessarily cutting off his laugh.
The tea lay forgotten on the table.
Over half a decade later, in a country hundreds of miles away, in a house that was no longer hers, Ariadne lay wide awake in her massive bed in the east wing of Villa di Rossi. She hadn't dreamt in years, but memories like that one kept sleep at bay, denying the slim possibility of dreaming anyway. Ariadne kicked off the covers and rolled over restlessly to look at the clock: 1:30AM. 'Fantastic,' she thought. Despite being a fairly cool Tuscan night, Ariadne had thrown both sets of double doors to her balcony wide open, allowing a breeze to sweep through the gauzy curtains and gently disturb the myriad of sketches laid out over the walls, floor, and desk.
Ariadne sighed in frustration. She used to be able to crawl into bed and fall asleep right away, but it would seem that Arthur's reappearance had once again thrown her world off kilter. He looked the same—maybe a bit more tired (possibly due to the harrowing escape from earlier)—but he looked like the man she once called her lover. Still dressed in designer three-piece suits and hand made leather shoes with gelled-back hair, he still was the sexiest man she had ever seen. The loathing for him she had carefully cultivated since their parting had burned away as soon as she laid eyes on him, and for that, she hated herself a bit.
When she first saw him in the courtyard earlier that day, she felt her heart pause ever so slightly. She didn't know what would happen, but her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, and any greeting she might have had for him never appeared. Of course, in his usual impeccable fashion, his facial expression never changed at all, something that brought old, dormant anger boiling forth from deep within the architect.
'Over two years sharing a bed with him…' fumed Ariadne, 'you would think he would at least have shown some sort of emotion!' Sure, there was a moment in the hallway earlier when she caught him staring at her with an unreadable look on his face, but she brushed it off as a surprise finally catching up with him. Considering they had neither seen nor talked with one another in years, it was a sort of jarring way to meet again. 'But, I suppose I at least knew he was coming,' mused Ariadne. Although to be honest, she had nearly passed out when Henry let her know of his intention to invite her old teammates, including her ex, here to the villa.
"Some preparation…" muttered Ariadne and rolled out of bed. Hopefully the rest of the place was asleep and she could sneak down to the kitchens for some hot chocolate, anything to help her get to sleep. Slipping on a robe and placing her overturned totem in her pocket, she crept quietly out of her room and down the set of stairs she had led the troupe of tired extraction experts earlier that evening. The chandelier had been turned off, but several of the floor lamps were still on, allowing for some illumination. The architect made a sharp turn upon reaching the bottom of the stairs and made for the door to the kitchens. Mercifully, all was quiet.
For the past week and a half, the villa had been bustling with activity. When it became clear that Cobol was trying to collect extraction teams at all costs, Henry had put out the alert. When the engineering firm tried to collect Henry's wife… Henry took it personally. What started as a series of independent battles was now about to turn into an all-out war, and Ariadne suddenly found herself on the front line. But even Ariadne knew it would take a collaborative effort of multiple extraction teams to bring down Cobol Engineering. So Henry had been opening his house as a safe haven for all those pursued and willing to try for the "not impossibly, but highly improbable" as he put it.
The first group to arrive actually took up residence a little over two weeks ago. Konstantine and Demetri, twin Greek brothers, were infamous for their forging abilities. As close friends of Nikki, they were a few of the first to be offered sanctuary, but in typical Greek fashion, they turned the villa upside down within minutes with their crazy antics and bizarre drinking games guaranteed to bring on massive hangovers. Charming as the two were, Ariadne could only put up with so much.
Following the Greeks was a motley assortment of four men: Graham (the lead extractor and larger than life Texan), Harvey (the "point man" but Ariadne could tell he couldn't hold a candle to Arthur), Lee (the mechanic, responsible for designing vehicles to be used in the dream world), and Kai (the architect, with more than a passing passion for art deco). Like Cobb's team, Graham's team found itself hired for a fictional purpose and narrowly escaped with their lives. It was by sheer chance that Saul was in the same building and managed to set off enough of a distraction to get them out. It wasn't until Graham's team showed up that Henry became resolved to help out his fellow extractors.
Despite ephemeral partnerships within the world of extraction, it really was a cutthroat business. Since the Fischer job, Ariadne had served as the architect for numerous extraction teams before taking up a more permanent position with Henry's team, and along the way, she had seen ugly rivalries between extraction teams spring up in competition to get the best contracts. With extraction considered illegal in so many countries, finding well-paying work relied both on your reputation and your ability to protect yourself from sabotage. Needless to say, Ariadne thought working together would bring her more piece of mind when she went to work…
The next group to appear at the villa mercifully gave a break to the amount of testosterone rapidly accumulating within the castle walls. Ariadne had nearly burst out laughing when she met Katya, the tall, buxom leader of the team. If Ariadne hadn't flipped her totem over several times just to be sure, she could have sworn that it was Eames' forgery of the blonde woman in Fischer's imaginary hotel. But of course, Katya was real, and she, Nikki, and Ariadne soon found themselves banning together in a show of feminine solidarity. At one point, Katya even apologized (laughingly so) by making the problem worse and bringing two men of her own, Mick (a decent forger), and Titus (another architect).
With the villa rapidly filling and most accustomed to little sleep, it was not at all shocking to find someone blasting Billy Idol in the large parlor at four in the morning or, in Graham's case, looking for a shovel at 2AM to dig a pit for a pig roast. At the latter, Ariadne really had burst out laughing and it took a significant amount of time and effort to pull herself together.
Snickering quietly to herself at the memory of Graham trying to explain the merits of burying a pig in the yard while dressed only in jeans, snakeskin boots, and a Stetson, Ariadne gently pushed the kitchen door open and walked into the dark room. She groped along the wall until she found the light switches and proceeded to throw them, illuminating the granite counter tops and wooden cabinets with a warm light. She hummed quietly to herself as she grabbed milk from the large refrigerator and pulled a pot down from the suspended rack. "Can't sleep either?" cut in a voice.
Ariadne gasped and nearly dropped the pot before turning around with a scowl, "Don't do that!"
Arthur held up both hands in mute apology as he strolled into the kitchen. 'Figures,' she thought. 'I manage to avoid him all evening, and as soon as I'm alone, here he is.' Wearing a white t-shirt and dark grey flannel pants, he was as dressed down as Ariadne had ever seen him. "Hello, Ari," he greeted quietly. His eyes were dark and unflinching. God, she hated him when he looked like that. In the past, it had always made her feel weak in the knees, and tonight it was no different.
To steady herself, Ariadne focused on pouring milk into the pot and turning on the burner, although she noticed with a small frown, she had unconsciously poured enough for two people rather than just herself. "Ari," Arthur called again quietly.
"Don't call me that," Ariadne hissed at him. "You lost all right to call me that." She stalked past him to the refrigerator and replaced the milk before continuing on to the walk in pantry in search of hot chocolate mix. Most nights, Ariadne would enjoy the long drawn out process of melting in shaved chocolate, butter, and vanilla, but tonight, she found her peace interrupted, and she decided to take the hasty route to an escape. However, after several long minutes of digging around in the pantry to find the packets of Swiss Miss, she exited to find Arthur standing at the stove, calmly stirring the milk with a spoon in his right hand, a tiny bottle of vanilla in his left. "Three drops, right?" he asked in that same infuriatingly calm voice of his.
"Yeah," Ariadne answered before tossing the powdered packets on to the nearest countertop and throwing herself in the nearest chair next to the kitchen island. To her extreme annoyance, Ariadne found that no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't take her eyes off Arthur's back. His broad muscular shoulders may have been hidden beneath his shirt, but his strong, tanned arms and hands were in perfect view. She had always loved his hands.
"Mugs?" he asked.
"On your right, second cabinet." Arthur padded over quietly and removed two mugs, filling both with some of the steaming refreshment before placing one in front of her and sitting down in his own seat directly across the counter.
A tense silence filled the room.
Ariadne tried to distract herself by watching the rich layers of chocolate eddy as she slowly swirled her mug, but she could feel his gaze fixed on the top of her bowed head. Desperate for anything to break the oppressive atmosphere, she blurted, "So you're working with Cobb again."
At her quick upward glance, she watched him raise an eyebrow as if to prompt "Small talk? Really?" But instead of letting the conversation fall back into silence, he answered, "Yes. We needed an extractor with experience…. Or at least that was what I was led to believe."
She nodded, "And the architect?"
Arthur snorted in derision, "Absolutely useless." Ariadne had to let out a small laugh at that. Arthur's professionalism and experience were always something she could count on during jobs, but sometimes he just demanded too much of others. Ariadne remembered one afternoon when she had followed a furious Arthur out of their safe house following a massive argument between him and a new forger brought on to complete the job in Eames' absence.
She had tried to defuse the situation, but Arthur was adamant they stick to his plan. The mark's subconscious was militarized and any mistakes on the part of the forger could lead to the downfall of the team. Ariadne knew that Arthur was just doing his job, but she did gently point out that the forger was unfamiliar with people trained against extraction.
"We need another forger," Arthur had demanded. "T.K. is way out his depth."
Ariadne sighed, "Just cut the guy some slack. I'm sure, given time, he can pull it off."
"We don't have time for this."
"… Is there anyone you didn't immediately criticize right away, besides yourself Mr. Perfect?"
Arthur's smirk at her drained her of all indignation. He nodded once, took her hand, and together they headed back to the warehouse. Ariadne was kind enough to not sing "I told you so" when they completed the job a week later.
Flashing back to the present, Ariadne said, "I'm sure he's not that bad."
"His construction is decent enough, but it lacks depth and detail. During prep, Cobb said he actually walked through a men's room door to find himself in an amusement park."
Ariadne winced, "Okay, maybe he is that bad."
Arthur smirked and nodded in agreement then took a sip of his hot chocolate. Silence returned to the kitchen once more.
"… how have you been?" started Arthur.
Ariadne flicked her eyes over to him to find him staring at her intently. She shivered slightly, almost imperceptibly, but she knew that he had seen.
"I've been good," she replied lamely. "And yourself?"
"Also well," he said. She suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. Leave it to him to give the world's shortest grammar lesson in one of the most awkward conversations ever. "I see you still have a fetish for scarves," he continued.
"I see you still have a fetish for noir," she shot back.
"Funny, you never seemed to have a problem with them before."
"You never irritated me as much before," she countered and left her stool to place her now empty mug in the sink. When she turned back from the sink, she let out a small shriek to find Arthur standing inches behind her.
"Move," she ordered in irritation. She needed to get out of here. The air was too thick. Ariadne could feel her blood pulse in her ears. No matter what, she couldn't let Arthur see how his proximity affected her.
But instead of moving away, Arthur moved even closer, placing his hands on either side of her on the counter, effectively trapping her. "We need to talk," he said.
"We said all that we needed to say to each other three years ago, Arthur," she gritted. It wasn't hard to feign frustration. This was just too much. She felt herself tensing as his breath swept over her face.
"Maybe so," he murmured, "but if we're supposed to be working together, we need to figure out a way to make this partnership work."
"Partnership?" she sputtered. "I'm sorry, did I miss something? Perhaps the part where we're working together?"
He leaned further forward, his nose gently brushing hers, "It's a collaborative effort, remember? A point man should always know what's going on, especially with the architect."
Ariadne felt fury fill her veins and brought up her hands to lay flat on his chest and shove him away. "Don't," she breathed. "Don't even."
"Don't even what?"
She narrowed her eyes. "We're not partners, Arthur. I work for Henry."
"So you do what he tells you then?"
She hesitated.
"I don't remember you being so meek, Ari."
"Fuck off."
"Tetchy are we?"
She growled. "I don't have to stand here and listen to this. I'm going back to bed." But before she could even take a step, Arthur had swiftly moved forward and pinned her again against the counter. He leaned in even closer, and this time she knew he could feel her shiver. Ariadne froze as he leaned his head toward hers, but instead of moving nose to nose with her as he was before, he moved his head to the side of hers to whisper in her ear, "I missed you."
Ariadne felt the breath leave her lungs. With more strength than she ever knew she had, she forced her muscles to move and wrenched away from Arthur, putting him between her and the counter. But when she turned to address him, she was horrified to feel tears welling up in her eyes and starting to spill down her cheeks. Arthur stood there and watched her, his face smooth of any expression.
"You can't say that," she said.
"Why not?" he inquired. "It's the truth."
"Because you can't possibly mean that!" she burst out. "Don't forget that you were the one who left. You broke us!"
"Don't you think I know that?" he erupted. Ariadne shied away from him. His eyes were burning, boring holes into her own. He took a step toward her, but at her flinch, he stopped. She could see the muscles in his jaw clench ever so slightly.
"Don't you think I know that?" he repeated, softer this time. "I left because I thought that it was best."
"Best for you or best for me?" she questioned testily. This was an old argument opening old wounds. Three years may have passed, but she realized uneasily that this conversation was still too early to have.
"I wanted to keep you safe," he answered.
Ariadne heard a bitter laugh and was startled to realize it was her own voice, "Safe? I'm sorry, but have you seen where we are now? What's even going on?"
"I know that," he replied irritated. "But I just wanted you to know that I did. Miss you that is."
Ariadne sighed. It was just like the point man to do this to her. No one else could make her blow hot one second and cold the next, but before she could even say anything, she heard a low whisper, "And I'm sorry for ever leaving."
She felt her stomach drop to the floor, and the gradually fading tears renewed their descent in earnest as she flung her gaze at him. He stood there, fists and jaw clenched, staring at some point on the floor. In just his t-shirt and flannel pants, Arthur no longer looked like the impeccable point man but more like a guilty child, seeking approval from a beloved parent. Ariadne had to suppress the sudden urge to giggle hysterically. Although a part of her was still completely furious at him for being an overprotective idiot, she had forgiven him long ago. Arthur loved her, and she knew that just as she knew she loved the point man.
"Seven months," she said quietly.
"What?"
"Seven months," she said again. "That's how long I waited for you."
"I—" he began, but she held up a hand for silence.
"Seven months I didn't leave that apartment, hoping and praying that you would walk back in that door."
"You told me never to come back," said Arthur, his eyes still focused on some far point on the floor.
"Idiot. Don't you know anything about women?" she chided. "We never mean things like that. I was angry, yes, but I never wanted you to leave, leave."
Arthur's shoulders slumped as he let loose a humorless chuckle. "You would have thought that after living and working with you for so long, I would have caught on."
Ariadne sighed. "And you've gotten no better with age, Arthur. Although, I supposed I haven't learned much either… I waited seven months in Paris for you, but now I find myself three years later in Italy… still waiting." She saw his head snap up to stare at her, his jaw slackening in disbelief. She let a soft smile grow across her lips, tears still streaming down her face.
"Idiot," she said again. His eyes darkened, and in two long strides, his lips came crashing down onto hers. Lips and tongue and teeth met in a frenzy. Ariadne had nearly forgotten how kissing Arthur felt—she could have sworn she could feel the earth spinning beneath her feet. The scent of his aftershave and the lingering taste of chocolate in his mouth was nearly too much. If Ariadne had a free hand (one was currently at the back of his neck, the other was gliding up under his shirt over his firm chest), she would have reached for her totem.
She felt his hands gliding through her hair, one hand staying to gently grip it and the other moving to untie the knot of her robe with its clever fingers. Knot undone and robe agape to reveal her pink camisole and black shorts, the now free hand slowly made its way up the side of her body, brushing her hip, ribs, and breasts. The architect arched into the point man with a moan. She both loved him and hated him for the control he seemed to have over her.
One hand still entangled in her hair, Arthur focused the attentions of his freehand on finding the hem of her shirt and inching its way up back toward her breasts. Ariadne could feel molten fire traveling in its wake, and when his hand finally reached her right breast to roll his thumb over her nipple, the architect saw stars.
Abruptly, she felt her back hit the wall. Somehow, the point man had guided them the few feet from the center of the kitchen to the side and had pressed her up against the wall. "Hold on," Arthur ordered and freed both hands from her body, prompting her to whimper slightly at the lack of contact. But he quickly rectified it by reaching down to grab her under the knees and brought them up on either side of his waist. Ariadne instinctively locked her legs around him, as he leaned forward again to pin her against the wall, lips seeking hers. Her bruised ribs protested slightly at the abuse, but passion overruled pain. In this close proximity, she could feel his growing erection through his pants, and she shivered.
She ran her fingers through his hair to mess up the perfectly gelled style that always accompanied him. Arthur growled a bit into her mouth and nipped her bottom lip slightly before moving on to lay kisses down her chin and neck. When he found that sensitive spot just below her left ear, Ariadne had to wrap her arms around him to keep herself from losing her grip, but she knew he would never let her fall. As his mouth slowly traveled down her neck to reach her left collarbone, Ariadne found her voice. "Wait!" she gasped. He ignored her in favor of re-mapping out her bone structure with his tongue.
"Stop!" she squeaked out again and managed to free a hand to push his head away. He looked down into her eyes, his pupils wide with a need and an emotion that Ariadne knew belonged to her alone. "Upstairs," she said. Swiftly, he set her down, barely allowing her to get her legs underneath her, when he grasped her hand and started to pull her from the kitchen. When they made it to the top of the stairs, he turned right toward his room, but she stopped him and pulled him in the opposite direction instead.
"My room," she ordered. At his slightly puzzled expression, she added, "Much less likely Eames will come busting in." Arthur grinned at her. It was one of those rare, genuine smiles that Ariadne had always treasured. When he smiled like that, she knew that Arthur the point man had temporarily retreated. She returned the smile and led him on down the hallway to her room.
She had just closed the door behind them, when she felt herself gently picked up and deposited on the bed. She sputtered a bit in indignation but was cut off when Arthur appeared above her face, straddling her hips and leaning forward to pin her arms gently above her head to the mattress.
"Control freak," she called him, but the accusation was without any heat.
"But you love it," he murmured, and as his lips came down to meet hers, Ariadne was for the first time in years, completely at peace.
A/N: Well?