Big thank you to cinematherapy!
Chapter 15: The Response
"Cream soda?"
"I wanted to try it!" Ariadne stuck her straw in and sipped it up.
Arthur stuck his straw in despite her protests and tried some. He hummed with pleasure and then tried to switch their glasses. Ariadne nudged him and grabbed it from him, "Oh no you don't. You steal my soda and this relationship is over."
"Are you threatening me?" Arthur leaned in.
"Ugh," The Forger slid in to the other side, "Yusuf better get here soon. I'm not in the vomiting mood. Could you two sit at least two inches away from each other?"
They smiled at the forger and Ariadne scooted a little away from her boyfriend. Yusuf had called and said he was running late and to order without him. So the food had come before long. The Forger got a heaping hamburger, Ariadne got her usual Panini sandwich and Arthur got his usual chili cheese fries and salad. After Ariadne had eaten the first half of her sandwich, she took the other half and held it in front of Arthur's face so he could take a bite. "That is the best sandwich on this earth."
"If you love it so much, I don't see why you don't get it every time we come." The Architect brought it back to her mouth and took another bite.
Arthur smiled while Ariadne took her thumb and wiped some cheese off his chin, "Because I always take a bite of yours…" She rolled her eyes at him and he added, "And then you wouldn't kiss me so you could steal some of my fries."
She wiggled her eyebrows at him and pressed her lips to his, reaching across and grabbing a section of fries and putting it on her plate while he was distracted. Eames brooded, "Oh God…What are you, fifteen? Arthur, I can't believe you're allowing this type of unprofessional behavior."
"We're not working, Mr. Eames. You're visiting us…I don't have to act professional."
The Architect made a face at him, "Face it, Eames. This is what you wanted or you wouldn't have teased us about each other so much…"Arthur shrugged at Eames to agree with Ariadne and tease him at the same time. Just for show, Ariadne leaned over and repeated the kiss and fry theft.
"Shit, guys, are you serious? This isn't high school."
They quickly pulled away and put some distance between them, Ariadne was laughing and Arthur blushing. "Sorry Yusuf."
xxxxxx
The waitress dropped off their drinks at the table and Arthur gave her a polite nod and charismatic smirk. Eames, who'd already, looked her up and down upon arrival and was bored with her just saluted and Ariadne thanked her sweetly. They'd ordered quickly. The Forger and his heaping hamburger, The Point Man and his fries and salad combo. The Architect deviated however: Wanted to try the burger with the chili cheese fries on the side. Arthur had mentioned, "But you always get the Panini. We're at Gusto's." Ariadne shrugged halfheartedly and said something about wanting to try something different for a change. Something different indeed; he highly doubted she would steal his fries since she'd ordered some of her own this time. He tried not to waver at the tradition broken. Everyone needed variety at times; it was just food.
"Arthur, can't say I wasn't blown off my tail when you suggested we meet for lunch. Always knew you had a soft spot for me." He picked, while handing their unneeded menus to the waitress.
"Our relationship is one of love/hate Mr. Eames. Hate being the more operative word."
Eames took the opportune moment to blow the wrapper of his straw across the table into Ariadne's face and while laughing, she balled hers up and returned the favor. Arthur's face stayed straight and poised. "Don't deny it. We're bestest buddies and you know it." The forger winked at him and then shared an amused glance with Ariadne.
Arthur rolled his eyes, "Regretfully so."
"Boys." The Architect reprimanded. She turned her head sharply after hearing her name called across the diner-like restaurant. She waved and murmured for Arthur to let her out so she could say hello and catch up with a few of her friends whom she'd not seen since graduation.
The waitress dropped off extra napkins and Ariadne's fries, shamelessly making eyes at the men. The lighthearted mood quickly died when Arthur's expression turned dark and his eyes turned vicious, "Are you screwing her?"
Eames' attention was peaked. Arthur didn't normally use derogatory language. He always thought it was beneath him or something and Eames had already stated this waitress wasn't his type. (After retrieving her number, mind you.) "What?"
Arthur lowered his chin menacingly, made Eames uncomfortable, "Are you screwing Ariadne?"
Eames blinked, "Did you fall off your rocker? Why would you ask such a thing?"
"I don't know. You two just act like love struck teenagers, it seems." The forger raised his eyebrows and tried to process the accusation. Arthur added, "She is irresistible; it's easy to fall for her. Even I gave in."
Eames shook his head; he couldn't believe a word he was hearing. "You're speaking a bunch of crock. That is the most disgusting thing I've ever-"
"I could forgive you, you know." Arthur's eyes held a maniacal glint and an overwhelming threat, "That is, if you fess up now and promise to stop." His voice became a voice that wasn't Arthur's. It was gruff and murderous. Possessive.
It was too much for Eames to take. Suddenly he was livid with this picture Arthur was painting of him, with the idea that Eames would be that low and conniving and that Ariadne would be anything less than eternally faithful to Arthur. "No."
"I-"
"No. No. No. No. NO. Arthur, I would never do that to you. Ariadne would never do that to you. What are you thinking?"
The Point Man heard her laugh from across the diner and crumpled the napkin lying under his hand, "I'm thinking you're screwing my fiancée." Arthur gritted exasperatedly and threw the balled up napkin in Eames' face, "She was mine first, Eames."
"Where the hell is this coming from?"
There was no time for Arthur to answer before Ariadne appeared at his side. After he let her in and sat back down himself, he leaned over and bestowed a slow, exaggerated kiss on her cheek. The Point Man leaned back, eyeing Eames challengingly. Ariadne caught the way Arthur was glaring at the forger, saw the dumbfounded gape of Eames in return and felt the tension clouding the air. She looked back and forth between the men, "Did I miss something?"
"Nah," Eames recovered and grinned at her. Then he shifted his grin to Arthur and enunciated the words, "There is nothing going on."
xxxxxx
Saturday morning, Arthur was up at the crack of dawn. It was the day of the weekend that they normally went out and did busybody things with each other since Sundays they were lazy bums. They normally slept in too, though. After lunch with Eames on Thursday, Ariadne and Arthur had stopped in a couple stores before going home and she'd found an outfit she was completely in love with. (Which is hard to come by for Ariadne; she normally doesn't get too excited about things of that nature.) Arthur figured she'd wear it today and thus picked out a grey suit to match. Around ten thirty, he picked up some blueberry scones and headed home, expecting Ariadne to be up by now.
Dressed and drinking coffee, she was sitting at the island and sketching when he came in. "Perfect, you're ready." He kissed her hair and set down the box of baked yummies. The Architect's eyes widened and pleasured 'Mmm' escaped her when the scones tore her attention from her morning doodles.
"Where did you go this morning?" She asked before taking a bite of the hot pastry.
"Ah, I called Marni Fabantou's office but they don't take calls until ten and I knew that she'd be swarmed the minute the clock ticked. So I pulled some strings, found out there is someone in the office before hours and wiggled my way in there. Turns out someone cancelled today and we're meeting her for lunch at 11:30."
Ariadne closed her sketchbook and put the last corner of the scone into her mouth, "Who is this, again?"
"Marni Fabantou. We looked her up a while back; She's that wedding planner," He opened the box and pulled a scone out himself, "I talked to her a little bit about us, so she's already got some ideas to spit to you and she's got some locations she wants us to take a look at. We wanted an August wedding and that only leaves us a few months now."
An unsettled feeling nestled itself into Ariadne's chest. She'd hoped they would just do the normal: eat, walk in park, eat again. "You made the appointment without asking? I think we should've talked about this first."
"Let's talk." He poured himself some coffee from the pot and sat beside her.
"Don't you think August is…too soon?"
"No, I think August seems forever away." Arthur rested his hand on hers; his dimples would be the death of her.
"I just don't think we'll be ready by then."
Arthur's eyebrows raised and his cocky smirk appeared, "Organizing, is my forte…and Marni Fabantou is the best there is. She's assured me that she can do it."
The Architect could barely get a word in edgewise, "Ok, but—"
"Ari, if you don't want a fireworks and roses wedding…just say so. We could just go to the court house and have a Justice of the Peace consummate it. I could care less as I long as I'm with you," He kissed her tenderly but perkily and kept his face close to hers. She didn't seem as into the talk of marriage as he was. She smiled in a way that felt she was only trying to please him but as he searched her eyes for clue to her thoughts he hid his concern seamlessly.
Cautiously she began to speak her mind, "It's not about the wedding-which I want an actual wedding by the way- I know you and Marni can help me plan a beautiful one in a sufficient amount of time…I know we'll be prepared to have a wedding but I don't think we'll be ready to get married."
He leaned back to his previous upright position, "I've been ready to marry you since I proposed. It's why I proposed and I assumed it's why you agreed."
"It wa—it is. But that was kind of a long time ago. We've been through a crap load of stuff lately. I feel like we're slightly different people…" Her voice simmered down to a timid murmur, "I feel like our relationship isn't that strong anymore." She expected him to take his hand off of hers when she said that, so it was no surprise when he did. Ariadne knew it wasn't what he wanted to hear but it was the truth. She defended herself, "I mean—we're trying. We're making progress but I don't think we're at a stable enough state to get married."
"Marriage certificate or not, we're always going to have to work to keep our relationship strong."
She sighed, already regretting the place she'd taken this conversation, "I know."
"Then what is the deal? You're not ready to be that deeply committed to me? You want to play the field and if you can't find someone better then you'll settle down with me?" He stood and took off his suit jacket, threw it to the couch.
She tilted her head and looked at him in that way that said he knew better, "No, you know better than that. You're the one for me."
"Then where is this coming from?," he pushed the box of scones out of the way so he could rest his arm on the table and lean in to analyze her, "Why don't you want to get married anymore?"
"It's not like I want to cancel the wedding indefinitely…I just think we should wait. You know, maybe next August." She shrugged.
"Next August?" He deadpanned, "And what happens when next August you decide you want to wait until maybe the next August? And then maybe the next August? And then maybe the next? Just like you keep saying, 'Maybe I'll do the next job?' What if you decide that maybe you want to string me along for the rest of our lives?" He took his cup of coffee and tossed it in the sink.
She stood as well and followed him into the living area, "I'm not."
"I want to be able to call you my wife, Ariadne, not just my roommate. Ok? I'm past all of that. I want something more. You are my everything…this isn't about marriage certificates and groomsmen and cakes and guest lists; this is about wanting to be yours and you wanting to be mine. I want to be with you for the rest of my life and I want you to have my name for it."
An awkward silence filled the room as Ariadne looked down at her feet and contemplated what he said. What difference would being married make? She knew they loved each other, she knew they'd both work through whatever they needed to for each other and she knew she couldn't be with anyone else but the Point Man and still expect to be happy. Her heart sunk when she looked back up at him and saw his eyes shining with the first signs of water. Since when had she become so bad at communicating with him? Since when did she start hurting him on a daily basis? Her face softened and she kissed his cheek, "Forget I said anything. Let's just go." She picked up his suit jacket and held it out for him to slip his arms through.
"Don't force yourself to do this to please me." He took it and laid it on the back of the chair, ready to dismiss the idea of going.
Ariadne shook her head, "I'm not," and then went to pick up her messenger bag.
Arthur caught the bag and gently set it back down on the floor. "I know you are." How could he not know after the way she looked at him? Sympathy written all over her face. Pity for the pathetic man who would crumble to his broken-hearted knees for her. It sickened him and he wouldn't sit through the remainder of the day feeling that way. He wouldn't let her try to appease him like that.
This frustrated her. Him and his stubbornness. His way or the highway. "I'll go." She enunciated and slung her bag back over her shoulder.
"This isn't how I wanted it to happen. You were more excited about that book I got you…I don't want you halfheartedly picking out crap with a bored look on your face. I'm not going to sit there and watch you put on airs for that woman, knowing you wish you weren't there planning our wedding."
Her mouth gaped and her eyebrows scrunched, "You're being ridiculous!"
Arthur walked away and began heading up the stairs to their bedroom. In his mind, his only coherent thoughts were: She doesn't want to be my fiancée anymore. Ariadne isn't in love with me like she was. Our relationship is crumbling. She pursued him, livid, "Arthur!"
"Don't worry." He bout faced, "I'll cancel our appointment and we don't have to talk about marrying each other anymore." He used his Point Man voice with her.
She caught his shoulder. Her frustrated, angered fierceness turned into hurt and disbelief. Her shout turned to a squeak, "You're being really mean about this…You know I want to marry you. You know I love you."
His steeliness was gone too, now. "Actually, I don't, Ariadne."
"Arthur!" She reprimanded like he was a child who'd cussed but he ignored her. He entered their room, closed the door before she could follow and dialed up Marni Fabantou. She must've been so confused when the bright-eyed, beaming,' joy to the world' man from this morning called stoically to cancel.
xxxxxx
The call had ended and he let the phone fall wherever when he heard a car start up. He looked out the window of their bathroom and low and behold, their car was pulling out of the building's back parking lot. He snatched his keys and sped to his own car. He followed closely behind, it was about a twenty minute drive. Suddenly they were out of the city of Paris and into a large residential province, passing house after house after house. When she pulled over by the curb of a quaint, two-story, blue and white town house, Arthur pulled over on the opposite side of the street about a block and a half back.
He narrowed his eyes and waited for movement of any kind, waited for his suspicions from the past couple months to be confirmed. Then the townhouse door opened and out stepped a brawny blonde. Piercing green eyes and full lips. Khaki pant suit and tacky pink shirt. Eames.
Once he was visible on the front porch, Ariadne's car door flew open and closed and she practically ran up the sidewalk. She almost tripped while climbing the few steps to his house before throwing herself into his arms. Arthur watched the scene unfold, his grip tightening by the millisecond. Eames smoothed her hair and rubbed circles on her back as she clung to him for dear life. Arthur glared daggers. Almost as if sensing that they were being watched, Eames head shot up to look no direction in particular. Warily, he pressed his lips to her ear and whispered something. She looked over her shoulder, too.
The sight of her face only the twisted the knife Arthur felt in his back and made it seem more real. Her face was scrunched and stained with tears, some still falling incessantly as her eyes darted around the neighborhood. Eames pressed his hand on the small of her back and shooed her inside; His eyes swept up and down his street once more before closing the door.
Arthur dropped his die weakly before he could even roll it. He heard nothing of the world except his own yells and saw nothing in front of him but a storm of tears.