Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me.
"Um, would you hand me those carrots?"
Ariadne nodded, and presented them to Arthur. They were both standing in his sleek, shiny kitchen - which she noted was carefully ornamented with all the latest appliances. A sparkling espresso machine. A carefully poised smoothie blender. Arthur was standing at the butcher's block, carefully dissecting peppers. Ariadne cleared her throat, slightly nervously. He looked up. "What's wrong?"
"Is there anything I can do to help?" her tone was courteous, polite, a reminder that she was in his space, and prepared to adapt herself accordingly.
"Well..." Arthur paused. "You could wash the lettuce. Its in a bag, on the bottom of the refrigerator.
She bent down, and opened it. As she did so, he wondered for a brief moment if he'd deliberately engineered it so he could look at her. Blushing at his own implied crudeness, he lowered his head, and concentrated on trimming the vegetables. She stood up, and began to unpick the bag's tie, proceeding to empty the contents into a clean metal colander.
For a few moments, neither spoke. The silence was punctuated by the brief sharp clicks of the knife, an insistent tapping against the wooden board. After another few seconds, he lifted it and deftly scraped the vegetables into a stainless steel pan. She finished with the lettuce, and wandered over.
"Anything else?"
He paused, and smiled. "Trying to make yourself useful?" His tone was almost teasing, and she found herself beginning to relax. She nodded. "Absolutely."
"Well..." he looked at her. "If you really want to make yourself useful, you could open the wine. Its also in the fridge." He turned his attention to the pan, gently prodding the vegetables, now simmering in oil.
She pulled the bottle out, and found a corkscrew. The sheer comfortable domesticity of the situation was soothing, comfortable. She decided to speak.
"I had an interesting class with my Ninth graders today," she began, and noticed Arthur's eyebrow raise.
"Really?" His voice was calm. "What happened?"
"Well, I was getting them to paint themselves, as they see themselves-"
"Kind of dangerous, don't you think?"
She blinked. His tone had been almost abrupt. "What do you mean?"
"Well, letting teenagers paint themselves as they see them. I guarantee you will have one girl who paints herself as obese, even thought she's as thin as a twig. I guarantee you'll have one who sees himself as some gangster type. Its just asking for-" He looked up, and saw her face. She looked worried, and he bit his lip.
"Oh, God, I'm sorry." He shook his head. "Ariadne, I am sorry. I'm just...not very good at not being a Vice Principal." His expression was genuinely remorseful, and she smiled, trying to ease his discomfort. "Its OK."
"No." He turned and began to turn the stir fry again. "Its not. I'm not paid to be a pompous ass at home."
She blinked. "Is that how you see yourself?"
"Well, its what I've heard people say." He reached for a bowl of chopped chicken, and slid it into the vegetable mix. "Oh, would you mind boiling some water for the pasta?" He turned to her. "Its in the pan."
She nodded, feeling frustrated that every time she was about to go deeper, he cut her off. "They don't all think that, Arthur. You know that."
"They did." He leaned against the hob. "Until I started teaching music, and began to remember who I really am." He bit his lip. "I'm not that guy."
She swallowed, not sure how to proceed. He seemed stubbornly resistant to the idea that his perception was not others. She heard the kettle switch click, and picked it up, dousing the pasta with boiling water. He nodded, lifted it, and put it on the hob. He sighed, and she looked at him.
"Ten minutes."
Twenty minutes later, they were seated opposite each other. Ariadne swallowed as she looked at the two pans of food. Arthur nodded. "Please, help yourself."
A few minutes later, they were both sitting with plates of stir fry and pasta, accompanied by glasses of wine. Ariadne took her first bite, and nodded. "This is great, thank you."
He smiled. "I like to cook." He took a bite, and chewed, reflectively. "It relaxes me". He dug his fork in again.
Ariadne swallowed. "Arthur?"
"Mmmm?"
"Are you sure you don't want to come back to Fox?"
He put his fork down, and reached for his wine glass. "Its difficult." He took a sip. "If I go back, Robert will go out of his way to make my life a misery." He shuddered. "You don't know him. He's extremely wealthy, and not afraid to inform everyone about it."
"But its your career!" She looked at him, puzzled. "Are you saying you'll throw your career away?" She shook her head. "This doesn't seem like-"
"Like what?" Arthur's head jerked up, and he looked at her directly. "Like what? Like me? Like good old dependable Arthur, who plays it safe and steady?" He bit his lip, and looked down at the rapidly cooling meal on his plate. "Maybe I want to do something different. Take a risk." He gently shook the glass, letting the light coloured liquid swirl inside it. "Do something else." He took a sip. "Something...rewarding," he finished, looking at his plate.
"But you're letting them bully you out of your job!"
"But it was my fault!" He snapped. "Throwing ice cream at Robert - that was childish!"
"But you were-" she broke off, embarrassed. She sank back. Saying you were defending me seemed egotistical. An uncomfortable silence settled on the two of them. She swallowed.
"If its anyone's fault, its mine."
Arthur blinked. "What?"
"I should never have gone on that date with Robert," she said, her face growing flushed. "I mean, he's rich, and he's very good looking, but he did nothing but try and grope me." She looked at Arthur. "You were trying to help me, and I'm not going to let the district destroy your career."
Arthur loosened his grip on his wine glass. "You're going to..." he was speechless. "Ariadne, you don't have to."
"I want to," she said, stubbornly. "Arthur, I -" she broke off, embarrassed, and he swallowed. He looked at her, and his eyes were filled with surprise. "Thank you. Thank you for letting me have a choice, whether I stay in teaching or leave." She shook her head. "Don't mention it." He smiled.
"Well," he said, his voice slightly husky. "Um, I didn't cook this so it would congeal. Would you finish it? I do have dessert."
She smiled. "Sure. What is it?"
He blushed. "Ice cream."
She nodded. "Sounds great." She leaned forward, and put her hand over his. His fingers curled round hers. "Want to share a portion?"
He nodded. "Oh, yes." Leaning forward, their lips met.
All reviews appreciated, thank you!