#arthur and Eames have had more contact

[joyce-bi-ers]

i love how inception implied that Arthur and Eames vaguely know each other because they’ve probably worked together before ( „Mhh, Arthur. You still working with that stick in the mud?“)(„Eames? No, he’s in Mombasa“) but the fandom just went no they’re married actually

[the-girl-wh0-cries-w0lf]

You're waiting for a train... (7)

Damsel in Distress

Robert Fischer x reader

description - The group goes under and the stakes they find there are more troubling than any of them could have dreamt.

word count - 3.3k (ooooooo she's a biggie)

warnings - guns, car crash, injuries, swearing, Robert being a cutie

a/n - I'm sorry this chapter took a bit longer to come out but I was really stuck with writing it. I could've whipped out a chapter really quickly but I knew it wouldn't have been my best and you loyal readers deserve my best, and I want to give this fic my best! :)

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-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

My ticket is clasped firmly in my hand as we wait to board. I had panicked thinking of what to wear this morning. Believe it or not, my experience of first class was lacking. I didn’t want to look out of place so decided upon a sleek stone dress with a matching cardigan and black patent heels.

We were boarding the plane now, deliberately before Fischer. We aimed to get settled in our seats so there was nothing suspicious about the way we were interacting. I found my seat and calmed my shaking bones. God it was so comfortable, shame I wouldn’t get to relish in it. Well technically my body would whilst my mind ran about. I looked behind me seeing Yusuf, Ariadne, Arthur, and Saito. I looked across and found Eames, my dad, and an empty seat. The person who would claim it would be my direct opposite. My hands clenched the arm rest when realisation set in. My heart was racing to the point where I didn’t notice Robert’s entrance. Eames blocked his path in order to get subtle access to his passport which he then slipped to Cobb.

I perked up when I felt my dad gesturing my way. Not knowing what else to do, I rose and approached him. But I had failed to notice the obvious point of contact until I had once again slammed into someone and ended up on my knees. This time my brick wall happened to hold the steely blue eyes I found impossible to forget. Once again, I struggled to find my voice in the face of his gaze.

“Are you okay?” I sharply inhaled, my thoughts being dragged back to our previous meeting. This time the pressure informed my actions and I lowered my head so my locks curtained my distinct features. He offered me his hands to lift me from the surprisingly soft carpet. Even though I couldn’t let my eyes meet his, it didn’t mean I couldn’t let my thumb ever so gently stroke his firm hands. They had the softness of a privileged life but there was a hardness that came from never-ending worry.

“I’m sorry do I know you?” He laughed through his words whilst searching through my feeble disguise. I let my eyes drift to Eames in a plea for help. What was I to do?

“No, I’m sorry I just have one of those faces.” Robert was amused by my answer. The closer he leaned in the more it felt like the world just crumbled around us. I could feel the muscles in my neck praying for me to look up. Just for a moment. I could feel his hands engulfing my own in a protective hold.

Just then, Robert was shoved from behind, allowing me to recollect and escape the potentially risky moment. Cobb continued storing his bag when Robert span around, looking for the one responsible. Cobb made sure his stance alluded to his innocence.

Once, Robert turned back, expecting to find me, he was saddened to see me returned to my seat. He purposefully moved to continue our conversation but was halted by the stewardess who informed him it was time to take his seat.

Robert returned to his seat glumly. As he sat, his sadness could still be felt radiating despite his perfect posture. He unfurled his jacket from his body revealing a crisp white shirt, his trousers being held by suspenders. My eyes betrayed me to drag over his body. I quickly looked away when I risked meeting his eyes and I giggled at the juvenile gesture on my part. But it appeared he had noticed as he met my giggles with his own melodious chuckle. I looked behind Robert to see my father handling his passport. The fasten seat belt sign alighted and the pilots voice informed us of take off. The plane rumbled beneath our feet. A little gasp escaped me as I briefly felt the gravity leave our mass, lifting us into the air. My fingers curled tighter around my seat, an outward sign of my anxiety.

A ping alerted us of the futility of our restraints. My dad rose from his seat and informed Robert that he had dropped his passport. Handing him back the aforementioned item, Cobb then struck up a conversation, I could only assume about his father and his recent passing. I watched out of my peripheral, refusing to give away any indication of the relationship between the seven people joining Robert’s flight. It ended with my father joining Robert in a drink which I assume contained a secret ingredient.

Within seconds, he was out. This was our go sign. Everyone jumped up, attending to their stations as the first-class flight attendant retrieved our case. Before joining the others, I ran over to Robert’s limp form and kneeled down between his legs. My hand glided over his arm and returned to his pulse point. With the other I cupped his face and with soft strokes I allowed my thumb to peel his eye open.

“What are you doing?” Cobb had spotted my unusual position.

“Just making sure he’s okay.” I answered with an innocent tone. I rose, self-conscious of my position, and joined the others in retrieving my own IV.

I returned to my seat and inserted it into my vein. I looked around at their stone cold faces and righted my expression to fit with the crowd. Here we fucking go.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

LAYER ONE: THE CITY

My eyes shot open and the first thing I felt was cold. Lashes of rain pelting down on my shivering form. Interestingly I hadn’t planned an outfit for such weather as such weather was supposed to be impossible. I shivered in my thin blouse and jeans, hugging my black leather jacket tighter in a feeble attempt at retaining heat.

I took in the dream around me, familiarising myself with the skyscrapers so my brain registered the route of the maze. Cars and their horns blared around me, my frame jumping at each new sound. I traipsed further up the street hoping to find my dad or Eames.

Suddenly, a red car pulled up next to me. The door was ripped open, and a loud voice ordered me to get in. We drove further in silence and picked up Yusuf. Unfortunately, with seven of us, room was limited. And I found myself being lifted into Arthur’s lap. I felt him shift under me at the foreign position, but he kept his hands civil, whether out of respect for me or fear of my father, I couldn’t say. But after many days of icing out on his part I couldn’t deny that the contact was comforting.

“You couldn’t have peed before we went under?” Arthur fumed from behind me.

“Sorry.” Yusuf meekly uttered.

“Bit too much free champagne before takeoff, eh, Yusuf?” Eames teased from the front.

“Oh, ha bloody ha.” I smirked over to Yusuf, trying to distract myself with amusement.

“Well we know he’s gonna be looking for a taxi in this weather.” My dad dragged us back to the plan at hand. We pulled off from the curb. As we drove we latched on to a taxi and Cobb rammed us into the back of it. When the driver stormed out of his vehicle, he was met with a gun pointed at his face.

“Walk away.” Cobb threatened. The driver left in a hurry. Saito exited our car but before Arthur left he turned back to where he’d lifted me off his lap. He gave me a light hug before finally leaving. Once the door closed again, I felt something different weighing down my body. I looked to an unusual bump under my jacket and pulled it back to reveal a holster with a loaded pistol. My weapon of choice. I smiled a little looking to Arthur’s retreating form. He’d never leave me vulnerable.

We followed Arthur and Saito a few yards before I saw Robert, out in the rain, flagging them down. Once they stopped and he was about to get in, Eames left our car in favour of disrupting Robert by appearing to steal his taxi. I stayed back, holding my breath. I feared to speak, fearing the quivering tone of my thoughts.

We pulled over once more to pick up a sopping wet Ariadne. She seemed grateful for the shelter.

I glanced down at the crisp white watch I always brought on any heist. It’s always good to track time when time is working against you. If the schedule was right Saito will have initiated the kidnapping part of the scheme. Ariadne turned to speak but before any words could come out, I felt the breath be ripped from my body and out my stomach. The car hurtled to the side and threw its occupants into a whirl.

I looked up, brushing my wet locks away from my eyeline. The sight I saw made my stomach lurch. A freight train. Hurtling straight through any hopes I had of getting home.

As I seemed to regain function, my courage was dashed as bullets pierced the metal. Specially trained projections targeted our two cars. I fumed at the sight of these men, knowing that this kind of dream training never appeared in our research. I watched Arthur manoeuvre the taxi, feeling lucky it was in his hands. But as more shots rained down, I grew determined. I took a crowbar from the boot and smashed out the rear window.

“KEEP US BEHIND THE TAXI!” I yelled over the newly acquired street noise to my Dad who took my meaning and tailed us to the boys, blocking the projections shot. I fetched my pistol out of the holster. I lay across the back seat rests and straightened out my arms in front of me. Pistol was positioned in a perfect line. I closed one eye. My thumb gripped the trigger down and I felt the bullet unfurl from the chamber.

Direct hit.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

We arrived at the abandoned warehouse that would be our stage. The two cars skidded in and as I exited, pistol still in hand, I noticed commotion between the others.

“Get Fischer in the back room now!” I saw them haul Fischer’s body out of the car and drag him away from my sight. I couldn’t help following him with my eyes and I tried to stifle the sigh that escaped once I saw him unharmed. I quickly composed myself and focused on the situation at hand. Saito was hurt.

“Has he been shot? Is he – he dying?” Ariadne stuttered out as Arthur carefully hurled his form out. I could see the blood seeping through his shirt. I noticed how his eyes lapsed back into his skull as if retreating from the pain.

“I don’t know.”

“Jesus christ.” My dad leaned down to him in order to assess the situation.

“Where were you? What happened to you?” Arthur questioned our whereabouts.

“We got hit by a freight strain.” I managed to stutter out through intermittent breaths.

“Why would you put a train crossing in the middle of a downtown intersection?” Arthur spat at Ariadne.

“I didn’t!” she defended.

“Well, where did it come from then?” Arthur would not let this go. I was confused and scared but if we focused on a singular fault, we’d lose sight of the end goal. And that was all that mattered now. Inception was about improvisation and now I had to improvise a runaway train being a totally normal thing to happen.

“Well, let me ask you a question, why the hell were we ambushed?” My dad screamed down at Arthur. “Those were not normal projections! They’d been trained for god’s sake!”

“You’re right.”

“How could he be trained?” Ariadne questioned.

Arthur calmed his breathing. “Fischer’s had an extractor teach his subconscious to defend itself.” I had to give it to Arthur he had an ability to stay calm in the face of unbridled attacks in the field. Which usually came from my dad. “so his subconscious is militarised. It should have shown in the research, I’m sorry.” He chanced a glance to my shaking frame. He surveyed the range of cuts on my arms and face from broken glass. “I’m sorry.” He softly uttered in my direction, but failing to meet my eyes.

“SO WHY THE HELL DIDN’T IT!” My Dad practically screamed at us now.

“Calm down.” Arthur tried to subdue his fury, lest it seep onto the entire team.

“DON’T TELL ME TO CALM DOWN! THAT WAS YOUR JOB GODDAMMIT!” Arthur rose to meet Cobbs intimidating stance. “That was your responsibility!” He shoved his finger into Arthur’s face.  “You were meant to check Fischer’s background thoroughly! We are not prepared for this type of violence!”

“We have dealt with sub-security before.” I gently reminded the men. “We’re just going to have to be a little more careful.”

Dad now directed his anger towards me. “This was not a part of the plan!" He gestured down towards Saito’s writhing frame. "Now he’s dying for god’s sake!”

Eames appeared from the side of us; he brandished a gun in front of Saito’s face. “Put him out of his misery.” He went to press the trigger before he was manhandled out of the way. Dad now had him locked against the car, gripping his offending hand.

“No, no, no don’t do that!” Cobb now furiously stated his opposition as Eames feebly tried to calm him down. Primarily so he’d release him.

“He’s in agony, I’m waking him up.” Eames defended.

“No. It won’t wake him up.” I froze hearing the words escape my dad’s mouth. You die and you wake up. That’s what happens.

“What do you mean he won’t wake up? When we die in a dream, we wake up.” Eames was repeating so he could convince himself.

“Not from this.” Yusuf spoke up. “We’re too heavily sedated to wake up that way.” Our gazes were firmly fixed on Yusuf, in disbelief of what we were hearing. One thought danced around my brain and only Eames had the guts to speak it out.

“Right. So what happens when we die?” He looked on at my dad for the answer he didn’t want.

“We drop into limbo.”

My heart plummeted out of my ribs and lodged down below. I managed to catch my breath but only in shaky little outbursts that were more like spits than any substantial amount of oxygen.

“Are you serious?” Arthur fumed upon the knowledge of this.

“Limbo?” Ariadne questioned fearfully.

“Unconcentrated dream space.”

“Well, what the hell is down there?” She built upon her question.

“Just raw, infinite subconscious.” Arthur’s voice began to build. “Nothing is down there, except for whatever may have been left behind by anyone sharing the dream who’s been trapped there before.” My saddened eyes followed my father, along with Arthur, both knowing that whatever was down there was a product between him…and Mal. “Which in our case, is you.”

“Well, how long could we be stuck there?” Ariadne wanted to claw the words back down in her throat.

“Couldn’t even think about escape before the sedation wears off.” Yusuf spluttered out his answer.

“Well how long Yusuf?” Eames was now irritated and used it to mask his fear.

“Decades – infinite – I don’t know. Ask him. He’s the one who’s been there.” He weakly gestured to my dad who’d begun to pace, avoiding our stares.

No one had looked my way as I hadn’t contributed to the conversation at hand. Dad was directed away from me, running his hands over his face as if he was waking from a deep sleep. He spun back into the group as a loud sob broke from my throat. Tears welled up and spilled out as the reality of the situation sank in. This job had already been dangerous but now I had lost the way out that could always be a crutch to the impending fear of the deep subconscious. Dad rushed to embrace me. He tucked my head into his chest and placed a kiss on my hairline.

“It’s okay, it’s okay sweetheart.” He softly cooed at me. “We’re gonna be okay.” I could no longer feel if the words were directed at me…or him. I feverishly wiped away the salty tears as they dried on my skin. I peeled myself away and looked up with a soft smile. In a silent nod of contentment. But as our eyes met I saw a flicker of regret when he saw me for what I truly was. His child.

The other boys hoisted Saito up and took him away. I knew the deeper we went, the pain would lessen. But my heart still ached for the agony waiting for him and the risk that came along with it.

Once the boys returned, Dad brought us all back to the task at hand. He addressed us explaining the outlines of the kidnapping scenario and how we’d use it to get Fischer to conjure up a safe combination which we would later use to reveal the will.

I had tucked my body into myself, my mind still running on adrenaline. I jumped back in once dad turned towards me, his next statement aimed for me.

“Honey, because of the dire situation and his clear kidnapping training we need to go harder.” I rolled my eyes feeling the direction of the conversation. “Sweetheart, we need to do ‘Damsel in Distress’.” My heart picked up speed.

“What’s that?” Ariadne questioned. It truly brought me back to how she had been dumped into this unknown world with very little knowledge. Like being dropped in a stormy ocean at night with a singular life ring.

“It’s a technique we use where y/n acts as an innocent victim to gain the marks trust.” Arthur filled her in whilst Dad stared at my expression incredulously. “Once she’s struck up a rapport we pretend to torture her. We’ve found this works with certain men, like Robert. Rich pretty boys who jerk off to the idea of being a knight in shining armour.”

I glared at Arthur’s unnecessary add-ons. He at least had the decency to look ashamed at being noticed by myself.

“Thing is I don’t think I can.” I meekly whispered. Closing in on myself further.

“What do you mean?” My dad asked.

“Because he saw me.” I stuttered out.

“That thing on the plane?” My dad’s annoyance was growing. He bent down and held my shoulders. “That wasn’t long enough to having any lasting effect on the memory.” He huffed out.

“There was another time.” My voice barely broke the room’s air and Eames' face fell as he knew what was to follow. My dad halted and I felt anger seep his veins as his hands left my shoulders. “At the office when Eames and I were doing intel. There was a – moment – well he – We talked.”

“You talked? You fucking talked with the subject?” My dad stormed away and whacked his fist into the car. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“I don’t know – I just –” I stammered out in the face of my fathers fury. He laughed in disbelief at my nervous shakes.

“Such a fucking child.” He rubbed his hands over his face, unwilling to look at me in this moment.

I scoffed. “I’m only a child when it suits you.” I stated confidently, my previous anxiety dissipating in the face of his insult. We both entered into a stare down, neither willing to retreat. Our silence hung heavy.

“What does it matter.” Eames tried to pacify the two of us. “The further down we go, the fuzzier his recollection becomes.”

“It matters now!” Dad hissed. He withdrew, his disappointment evident in his stance.

“I was wearing glasses!” I shouted unconvinced at my own excuse. He spun to face me.

“It doesn’t matter, his brain now has an image of you with glasses and without so his unconscious mind will meld the two to form an exact image of you.” He left once again, desperate to forget the conversation.

“I can still do this!” I yelled with conviction. He turned back round to deliver a final blow.

“No. You can’t.” my heart clamped as his words settled in. My tears falling was the only feeling I could register in my numb frame.

God, what have I done.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

taglist: @jonsncws @h-l-vlovesvintage @theethy @fashionki11a @felicity1994 @bearchermer @idkyoutellmesmh @mimimarvelingmarvel @butterfly-lies-chase-them-away @neotanpopper @deliriouslybi @folklorde24 @thefandomdiaries07

[starlightiing]

I love love inception so your au is *delicious* Pierre as point man and Este as forger is interesting! I see your reasoning.. I thought the opposite since Este feels more straight and narrow and Pierre more flashy but it's fun to imagine them newly

also a job gone wrong that sends them on the run is SUCH a fun idea, I can imagine the tension catching up to them 👀 and well if their communication skills are lacking then they must relieve the tension some other way

Hey, that's the fun with interpretation of character! I didn't even really consider the 'flashy' aspect of Eames hahaha I was more focused on is overall silliness and aloof behavior - in which case, yes, the flashy part of Eames would be a lot like Pierre, wouldn't it? Listen, nothing is set in stone with my AUs, EVER. I love to hear these things, especially if they're contradictory to what I've already discussed, opposing opinions and all that - it helps me open my eyes and brain a bit more when putting these things together. I love that input, thank you! Feel free to share more if you want/have anything else!

GOD I wrote this Arthur/Eames fic once where they were both continuously on the run (not with each other, separately) but somehow they always kept bumping into one another - once in France, once in Germany, even once in the US - and they would call each other from burner phones to meet up and just have sex. And then the next day they'd be up and immediately on the run again.

In the end, they finally had a bit of very choppy very awkward communication, and they were able to develop things into more than just sex - but it was a lot of fun. That is sort of the vibe I'm getting here. Of course, I don't write smut so the sex was only ever alleged LOL but. All the same.

If they were in a job together that went poorly and the company wanted them dead, they'd have no choice but to run TOGETHER. And try their best to work together to get out of the predicament. I would think if they were working in France when younger, they'd have to make their way out as fast as possible and get into another country (undetermined as of yet) with fake names, fake IDs, fake everything, not to be caught.

I could see Pierre having some contacts to help in that area. But getting out of France is the hard part, because now they're VERY wanted not just by their company, but by the country as well because HELLO VERY ILLEGAL ACTIVITIES so like legit everyone is after them, looking for them, very high stress.

That would be a lot of fun, actually. And I kind of like it being the thing that actually drives them apart? You'd think it would grow them closer together but by the end of it they've just had a lot of sex and a lot of aggravation and they just kinda go separate ways after.

Though, funny enough, both of them know where the other is at the drop of a hat, at any given moment.

"We need a point man as good as Pierre/Esteban (depending on who is picked in the final draft)"

The other: Oh, he's in Barcelona right now.

You have my brain working in the opposite direction now with Forger!Pierre and Pointman!Esteban....hm hm hm....

Thank you for this brain food anon. Also, fellow inception lover lets fucking GOOOO I'm probably going to watch the movie today now LMAO it's like my favorite.

[jackson--t]

Piano Lesson

Short One Shot, all fluff. ❤

Words: 1.3 k Warnings: too early christmas shit. 🤗

♡----------♡-----------♡

Arthur smiled slightly, the corners of his mouth pulled up narrowly, before he raised his eyebrows gently and returned Eames' sidelong glance.

"You need to be gentler, Eames." he said softly, ignoring Eames' rough snort. Arthur licked his lips lightly, then placed his hands next to Eames' on the piano, adjusting his body.

"Gently, you have to press the keys down very gently. With feeling, not like a gorilla trying to squash a banana," he murmured, and began to play the soft, delicate notes again with his slender fingers - he was showing Eames for the third time now. Eames' body beside him stiffened slightly, but Arthur could still feel the immense warmth emanating from the bulky body. That they both fit on the stool in front of the beautiful piano was still a mystery to Arthur.

He finished his short, slightly melancholy piece, his brown eyes back on Eames, who looked at him with a strange mixture of admiration and amusement. The eyes positively sparkled, and Arthur could not help feeling a faint trace of red on his cheeks.

"I don't play like a gorilla. I'm a fucking genius. Okay, watch, huh, darling." Eames said amusedly, interlacing his fingers to stretch them in a would-be professional gesture. When they cracked slightly, Arthur raised his eyebrows again in amusement, and couldn't help but let out a slight chuckle from his throat.

"Whatever." he said, watching as Eames rested his heavy and broad fingers on the piano's keys. It took a few breaths for Eames to finally move his heavy fingers, but he did so with the same rudeness as before. Arthur rolled his eyes, sliding his slender hands over Eames'. They were warm.

"Eames, stop, stop, stop. Your hands don't weigh ten tons, okay?"

"Of course they do. Have you ever had them on your body?"

"No, God forbid."

"Then you don't know either. Such a load to have such heavy hands, darling. You could show me."

Arthur snarled. "I've shown you, more than once."

Eames grinned broadly, turning his upper body curiously toward Arthur in the already limited space. Arthur blinked slightly as Eames' heavy gaze met him, eyebrows raised again.

"Show me."

"No, not again."

"Come on, one last time! Here, show me how you do it, you can... no, I'll put my hands on yours, what do you say? So I can feel you doing it," Eames said, and it sounded like a normal suggestion - simple, easy, yes. Arthur wanted to believe it. But he was already having a hard time keeping his inner heat still at this close contact of their bodies, what would happen if they both...?

"Think I can play with concrete on my hands, huh?" Arthur nagged softly, rolling his eyes even as he placed his hands back on the piano keys. He hesitated for a moment, but with Eames' intense gaze on him, he nodded slightly. Eames turned his torso back toward the piano, and just a few breaths later, he could feel Eames' hands on his, as easily as the brawny man could. As if he had intentionally made his hands seem heavy before. Arthur consciously tried to push that thought away - as well as the nice feeling of warm, heavy hands on his. The pressure was pleasant, and it didn't weigh Arthur down as he began to move his hands softly on the piano's cool keys. It was a delightful contrast to the warmth that was on his hands.

It was Christmas. They were at Cobb's house, the children were in the garden building snowmen, and it was the first time in days that Arthur and Eames had been alone for a moment. Arthur had restrained himself for a full two days from ever casting unnerved glances at Eames, who was wearing the worst, most hideous Christmas sweaters he'd ever seen and always seemed to have some kind of food in his hand. Their rooms were next to each other, upstairs on the second floor.

"You play that really well. Why don't you play the piano, and we'll all sing to it later, huh?" Eames whispered, and he was so close to Arthur's ear that Arthur could feel his breath. It was warm and pleasant, and it caused a slight giddiness in him. Arthur smiled slightly, and finally closed his eyes. He could feel Eames' fingers getting heavier on his, but he kept playing.

"Your singing will make the needles fall off the tree, Mr. Eames."

"Humorless as ever, Arthur."

Arthur bit his lip, pressing his slender fingers harder on the keys before he felt Eames' fingers slip between his, deliberately, and intertwine with his. So warm and soft, very different from what Arthur had expected, and his fingers paused, returning Eames' pressure. He could still feel Eames' breath on his ear, so close. So damn close.

Arthur felt it before it happened, and he didn't pull away either when Eames turned his torso slightly toward him and gave him a soft, almost breathy kiss against his cheek. A fierce wave of heat pushed through Arthur's body, but he did not open his eyes. On the contrary, he clamped his fingers tighter with Eames', and turned his upper body in Eames' direction as well. He could feel a heartbeat, deep and firm - and so close to his own.

Their lips met, open-mouthed, gentle, and they kissed as tenderly as if it were the first kiss ever in their lives. Arthur could taste the cognac Eames had already drunk that afternoon - he could taste the fruitcake, and a stolen cigarette, he was sure. But it was still the most beautiful kiss he had ever had. His fingers twitched, but Eames did not stop. He kept kissing Arthur, nudging his mouth open lightly, pushing his warm, soft tongue into Arthur's mouth. And because Arthur was so dizzy from this, he resolutely and somewhat unsurely at the same time reached into Eames' neck, at least with one hand, and returned these kisses with even more passion.

He could feel Eames' body pressing tighter against his, Eames' free hand lost in his dark hair, pulling him closer, and Arthur released his lips, but only to gasp. He looked at Eames for a moment, his eyes hazy and blurry, before Eames leaned in and kissed him again. Arthur's heart raced like a rabbit's, fast and relentless, completely out of control.

And just as Eames' hand buried itself more firmly in his hair, about to pull him onto his lap, an amused clearing of the throat snapped them out of their trance so violently that they nearly fell off the piano stool. Grinning and leaning against a doorframe, Cobb stood there, a cup with a steaming liquid, perhaps warm cocoa, in his hand, watching the two of them in amusement. Arthur gasped heavily, while Eames stood up so hastily that his ugly sweater almost got tangled in the piano.

"How long have you been standing there?" he barked at Cobb, who only raised his eyebrows in a feigning manner and eyed the two. Arthur felt his face adjust to the color of the red curtain.

"Long enough. Playing the piano, good plan, Eames. As if you two hadn't been pining at each other like two greedy bears for the last two days," Cobb said, cashing in a hard punch to his shoulder from Eames.

"I was- that was, Arthur was just- oh, come on."

"You want a quieter room?"

"God, Cobb!" Arthur hissed, growing even redder at the peal of laughter that erupted from Cobb's throat, before Eames put him in a headlock regardless of the cup dropping.

As they sat at the table in the evening devouring another delicious meal, with so much laughter and joy around the table, Arthur couldn't help but smile deeply and warmly. He felt something under the table, and as soon as he caught Eames' winking glance from across, he returned the pressure of feet intertwining with his.

Merry Christmas, Mr. Eames.

[random-imagines-blog]

If Ever {Inception Arthur x Reader One Shot}

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 1748 Summary: You and Arthur are at the Doctor’s appointment for your pregnancy check-up.

Arthur’s habit of leaning back in chairs never stopped, despite the fact that Eames often liked to mess with him when he did that. He was feeling rather safe in this Doctor’s office now, though. Leaning back, he was writing things in that little black notebook that he always had with him while you sat on the examining bed. You watched him with a smile as he tapped his pen against his lips, seemed to get an idea, and then wrote it down. “Say, what do you think of the name Michelle?” He questioned. “I think it’s rather pretty.” Before you had time to give him a reply, the door opened, startling Arthur into nearly falling backwards. Or he would have if it wasn’t for the wall that was behind him, keeping him up. He leaned forward and nearly jumped off of the chair, scratching the back of his neck. “Oh, hello Doctor, you startled me.”

“Hello Arthur,” Your family Doctor smiled as she came into the room. She did give the chair a quick glance and your husband sat back down. “How are we all feeling today?”

“A little bit of morning sickness still,” You admitted, holding your swollen belly. “And kicking up a storm - so at least I know that they’re alive in there.”

“A very good sign,” The doctor said with a nod. She noticed the book that was in Arthur’s hands, though it was hard not to. He was always fiddling with the thing. “Are you still trying to decide on names?”

“Arthur is having a hard time sticking to one,” You complained, smiling at your husband as the Doctor sat down at her desk and put your name into the computer to pull up your charts. “It seems like every hour he’s suggesting a new one.”

“Michelle,” Arthur chimed in. “Reminds me of France - remember when we went to France?”

“How could I forget?” You laughed, looking down at your stomach. “You know - we still haven’t even figured out if it’s a boy or a girl, Arthur. There’s no need to get stuck on a name yet. We don’t have to worry about it for a while...”

“Oh, the time will be sneaking on you before you know it,” The Doctor said, reading through your medical history. “We’re just going to start with blood pressure, okay?”

“Okay,” You nodded. You tried to make yourself comfortable but the extra weight that you had put on from this pregnancy was making your back ache. You focused on the handsome face of your husband across from you to try to make this go a little smoother. He was just trying to stay out of the Doctor’s way, but continually kept up eye contact with you, especially as the strap was velcroed around your arm.

“I just like things to be planned out, no surprises,” Arthur said, being his usual self. There wasn’t much that was spontaneous about him, but you loved that. He was always reliable. He was someone that you could count on even when times seemed to be at their roughest. He was the man with the plan, and though many of his friends tended to think he was boring, you saw it as a turn on. It was romantic that he planned to be alone and intimate with you when you were at your most fertile, because you both had plans to create this family. And here you were, five months later.

“Blood pressure is a little higher than normal, which is good,” The Doctor said, taking the cuff off of you and typed something into her computer. “May I feel your stomach for a minute?”

“Of course,” You said, popping up your shirt so that your stomach was exposed. It had been a couple of days since your belly button had changed. It had once been an innie but now was an out. “They’ve been kicking enough to pop it out,” You joked with the doctor who smiled.

She did a couple of soothing motions across your stomach, just feeling around. You closed your eyes and attempted to relax. Arthur was the only one who you let touch your stomach. “Good, good,” The doctor said, letting go of you to type into the computer again. “So, now’s the time for the big question. Do you want to know the sex?”

You looked over at Arthur who looked thrilled at the question. You couldn’t deny him that, not after that smile took over his entire face. “Yes, that would be great,” You said with a nod. “Though, of course, it only matters that they’re healthy in there.”

“Of course,” The doctor said. “Why don’t you lay back for me.”

You did so, feeling much more comfortable lying down than you were sitting up. You rubbed your stomach as the Doctor started to get the ultrasound machine ready. ‘Alright, my little sweet potato,” You thought to the baby as you caressed your own skin. You had a book all about the growth of fetuses, and that’s about how big your little one was now. You never told Arthur about that, having the feeling he wouldn’t like it if you kept referring to your child by food names.

Arthur couldn’t sit still in the chair anymore. He was getting too excited, his hands were starting to shake. He came and stood next to you, on the opposite side of the doctor, and held your hand in his. “This will be a little bit cold,” The doctor warned.

And it was. The gel that was put onto your stomach was enough to make you yelp. Which in turn made Arthur make a little squeaking noise in fear. Once you were over the feeling, you started to laugh though, and kissed the top of Arthur’s hand. “Sorry, it still managed to surprise me.”

“It happens all the time,” The Doctor chuckled. The gel was rubbed around and you looked up at Arthur’s red face. He was always embarrassed whenever he had a small outburst. You just kissed his hand again and smiled up at him. He was so undeniably handsome, it was easy to get lost in your own head when you were looking at his features. His dark eyes. His perfectly combed hair. Those protruding cheekbones.

God, you were so in love with this ridiculously good-looking man. Even if he did wear a lot of beige for a man his age. He somehow made it endearing.

“I wear this to blend in so you can stand out even more,” he told you whenever you poked fun at his clothing.

The machine touched your stomach. You both looked at the screen together, along with the Doctor. At first it was hard to tell what was what - everything was black and white. It looked more like a rorsach test than a baby, at least until the Doctor started to point things out. “All is looking good...” The Doctor said, both to herself and to you. You were beaming with joy. All that you wanted was positive news. You would have been devastated if it was bad. “So, are you sure that you want to know the sex?”

“Absolutely,” You said with a nod. Arthur mimed the sentiment.

The doctor moved the machine just a little bit, then announced to you, “It’s a boy!”

“No Michelle then,” You chuckled, squeezing Arthur’s hand. “Guess we’re going back to the name book.”

“And look,” The doctor said, calling your attention  back. “He’s sucking his little thumb. Would you like me to print off some pictures for you?”

“We’d love that, thank you.”

After going through a list of questions about how you’ve been eating, how much exercise that you’ve been getting, if you’ve been taking your pre-natal vitamins, how much sleep you’ve been getting a night, you were given a copy of the ultrasound pictures and making an appointment for a couple of weeks into the future to be checked up again. All in all, your baby was healthy.

There was no such thing as a stressfree pregnancy, especially when you had a husband who liked to have a plan in place for anything that could happen. His stress often stressed you out. But you were healthy despite this, and you were excited to go out for a big lunch to feed you and the baby. Arthur had promised to take you out after this appointment. “So where are you taking us?” You asked, putting your seatbelt on. It felt a little tight and uncomfortable, but you lowered the strap to be around your pelvis rather than your bloated tummy.

“Wherever you want to go,” Arthur said, but he was stalling from starting up the car. He had taken hold of those Ultrasound pictures and was looking over them, again and again. Like he was trying to find something wrong. You reached out and put your hand gently on his knee, trying to draw his attention back to you.

“Babe, everything is fine. You heard the Doctor. A healthy baby boy. And we’re only halfway through the pregnancy so we still have time to pick a name. Actually... there’s been one on my mind for a while now...” You bit your lip, ready to tease him, ready to make him snap back to reality.

“What name?” Arthur asked, looking up from the picture to look at you. You really tried hard to put on a face like you were considering something that was really important. Like it was trying to burst out of you.

“I’ve been thinking....”

“Yes?” Arthur asked, impatient.

“Eames.”

“What?” Arthur’s eyebrows shot up towards his hairline, and then was taken over by a grumpy expression. “Definitely not.”

“Oh come on, it sounds a bit pretty, don’t you think?” You asked, nudging him with your elbow. It was enough for him to set the pictures down on his lap and start up the car.

“I’ll just make you some toast when we get home,” Arthur said as revenge, starting to drive away from the Doctor’s office. You laughed, but accepted it - knowing that once you got back to your house, you would be able to convince him, for the baby’s sake, to make something delicious.

[strawberry-peach]

Day 36: A random pre-canon headcanon.

I was supposed to just propose Arthur being a computer science major/hacker/computer genius/wtv before joining dreamshare but I kinda went on and on. So, yeah, here...

Kinda links back to the favourite subjects one, but what if Arthur was a computer master. I think it'd make sense that him being the pointman and doing all the research that brings up information that should not be aviable to the public requires for him to be able to dig deep into places in the network where he definitely shouldn't be. Not only he's very good at this but he also has contacts from his days before dreamshare that aid him whenever he needs a bit of help, half of these people just names without a face that he mentions vaguely but no one but him actually know.

Also, let me go on a wild little hc tale, he met Dom and Mal when they reached out to him via friend of a friend on recomendation when they needed to deal with some weird shit going on in their very sensitive files on the dreamshare research and with his help they found a private group paid by an ex collaborator, that had been let go in earlier stages due to moral discrepancies, trying to acces their data to start their own parallel projects. They were so impressed with his efficiency that they kept him around to help them keep everything in order. Then it was only a matter of time before he got more involved, proved that his subconscious was actually very stable and took wonderfully to dreamshare. So he started joining some of their more simple, less risky trials, where he got to hone his in-dream craft and get closer with the Cobbs.

(Maybe it was around this time that he also met Eames, when he was temporarily transferred from another branch for some particular trials and to test his forging, which was like a new crazy thing. Or maybe they met on the clandestine side of it, later. Possibilities)

Then came the limbo incident, and when Cobb left, Arthur did so too, not only to help him out but also because, after it happened, he snuck into the more confidential files and learnt of the most extreme and damaging effects dreamshare and its experimentation could have in people, and he was considerably put off by it all. He could have sabotaged the whole initiative or stolen this info or maybe just left. Possibilities, posiibilities all of them.

@inception30daychallenge

[darlingandmreames]

Happy Endings

(also on ao3)

Eames had always loved Bogota. It was a vibrant city, full of lights and sounds and some of the best food he'd ever eaten. He'd been excited when a job there had come up; it'd been a decent one too, not too difficult and with a good payout. Except the mark had apparently made an even better offer that the architect couldn't resist, and he and Arthur had both found themselves with a new price on their heads when they should've been enjoying the city and a few drinks. 

Arthur glanced around the corner briefly before heading back out onto the main street. Main thoroughfares like this were always a risk because of the exposure, but the crowd offered a bit of protection to even it out. "You said the safehouse is close?"

"About two more blocks." One of the only positives of their current situation was that Eames' love of Bogota meant he had an apartment there where they could lay low for a few days until things quieted down. Assuming it hadn't been compromised, of course.

Arthur looked like he was about to say something when a loud sound pierced through the general noise of the street, immediately followed by screams. It took Eames a moment to connect the sudden blinding pain in his side to the gunshot still echoing in the street, the pieces only falling into place when he brought his hand up to his side and pulled it back to find it covered in blood. He stumbled and a moment later Arthur's hands were gripping his shoulders as he slid down the building wall slowly, trying to keep him from falling. He was dimly aware of people yelling around him, but Arthur's voice was the only thing that managed to cut through the pain and surprise.

"Shit, shit, Eames? Look at me. Are you okay? Eames?"

Eames took a painful breath and smiled shakily as he felt the ground come up under him. "I think the, uh, the mark maybe caught up to us after all."

“It’s alright, you’ll be alright.” Arthur took his jacket off, pressing it against Eames’ stomach. “Someone…someone’s calling an ambulance, you’re going to be fine.”

Eames knew that was a lie. He could see it in Arthur’s face. And more than that, he could feel the blood already starting to soak his shirt; he was bleeding fast. “It’s not…it’s not good, is it?”

“You’re going to be fine.” He could hear the desperation in Arthur’s voice. “That ambulance is coming. Just stay with me, okay? Stay with me. You’re going to be okay.”

Shock was a strange thing. Eames knew he should be more panicked than he was, more afraid, but he just felt…numb. The pain in his side was white hot, worse than anything he’d ever felt before, but it felt like it was happening miles away to someone else. That was bad. He knew enough about shock and blood loss to know that was bad. He could see the fear and terror in Arthur’s face and he knew he should be feeling the same thing but he just…didn’t. He brought his hand up to cover Arthur’s; it was difficult and it took him a second to coordinate the movement, but he managed it after a moment. “‘M not…’m not gonna make it, love. Not with how much I’m bleeding.”

“No, I’m not-I’m not losing you. I’m not going to let that happen, just stay with me.”

The edges of Eames’ vision were starting to darken, but he could see the tears on Arthur’s face. “S’alright, love. This is how…this is how it ends for us, you know that.” He tried to smile, but it felt more like a grimace. “People like us don’t…don’t get happy endings.”

“Well, we’re going to have one, okay? You know how stubborn I am. I refuse to lose you.” Eames felt Arthur shift him and he found himself in Arthur’s lap, Arthur’s free arm cradling Eames against his chest. The movement sent a stab of pain through his body but Eames couldn’t quite bring himself to care. “You’re not allowed to die, Eames, okay? You’re not allowed to. You’re going to be okay, you have to be okay, I-I can’t lose you, I can’t do that…”

Eames closed his eyes. He could hear sirens in the distance, getting closer, but they weren’t going to get there in time. It was alright though. If he was going to die he wanted it to be here, in Arthur’s arms, not in the back of an ambulance. “I love you.” It was getting harder to speak, and Eames wasn’t even sure Arthur could hear him anymore. 

There were so many things Eames had wanted to do with Arthur. He’d wanted to travel the world with him, not just for jobs. To stay in world class suites and shitty roadside motels and everything in between. To visit the Grand Canyon, because it was beautiful and Arthur had never been. To take him to the little hole in the wall tea shop he’d found in Kuala Lumpur and had known immediately Arthur would adore. He’d wanted to marry him eventually. Grow old with him. They’d never do any of those things now, but it was okay. The few years they’d had together hadn’t been long, but they’d been good. Wonderful, even. Better than someone like him deserved. That was enough. It had to be. He could feel himself losing consciousness, the sounds around him becoming muffled and hard to differentiate. He could still feel Arthur holding him, though, and that was all he wanted.“‘M sorry, darling. I love you.”

XXX

The smell was the first thing he noticed.

Eames had always hated the smell of hospitals. They smelled like antiseptic and death and cleaning supplies. It was a sharp smell that clung to you even after you left, and was one of the many reasons he avoided hospitals as much as possible. It was an odd thing to be smelling now, too, considering Eames was fairly certain he’d died. 

A steady beeping gradually drifted to his attention and he opened his eyes slowly. The harsh fluorescent glare made it difficult to focus, but his eyes started to adjust after a moment. More sounds were filtering in now. Muffled announcements over a loudspeaker. A fan blowing. Some sort of TV show that sounded like it was in Spanish, but Eames couldn’t quite focus on the words enough to tell for sure. He was beginning to doubt his earlier belief that he’d died because if this was the afterlife, he wasn’t impressed. 

A small sound off to his side caught his attention and he turned to look slowly, which took more effort than he anticipated. Arthur was curled in what looked like a truly uncomfortable position in a chair beside Eames’ bed, asleep. He was wearing the same clothes he’d been wearing earlier, minus his jacket, and Eames could see dark stains covering the fabric. Blood. His blood. Eames reached out slowly, fingers brushing against Arthur’s arm. The movement was difficult, but he needed to know Arthur was really there. That he wasn’t imagining him.

Arthur’s eyes flew open at the contact. He sat up with a start, looking around wildly until he saw Eames. His shoulders sagged as relief flooded his expression. “You’re awake.”

“Yeah. Didn’t think I was going to do that.” Eames could see the dark circles under Arthur’s eyes, and he’d clearly been crying. He’d deny it, of course, but it was easy to see. “You look like shit, darling.”

Arthur smiled slightly and let out a small chuckle. “I still look better than you.” He reached out and brushed Eames’ hair off his forehead, worry creeping back into his expression. “You scared me. I thought I’d lost you.”

“I thought you did too.” Eames brought his hand up to Arthur’s face. Even through the fog of the copious amounts of pain meds he was sure he was on- he’d be in a hell of a lot more pain if he wasn’t- Eames was uncomfortably aware of how close things had been. 

Arthur leaned into the touch, closing his eyes and covering Eames’ hand with his own. “You’re alright though. You’re okay.” Eames wasn’t sure whether Arthur was trying to reassure him or himself. Maybe both of them. Probably both of them. After a moment he opened his eyes again, giving Eames another small, if somewhat unconvincing, smile. “Told you I was stubborn though, didn’t I? I’m not-” his voice broke slightly, “I’m not losing you. I refuse. I don’t care if people like us don’t have happy endings. We’re going to have one anyways.”

Eames smiled. People like them didn’t have happy endings. He knew that, and he knew Arthur knew that. But Arthur was stubborn, more so than anyone else Eames had met. Stubborn enough to insist the rest of the world was wrong. To look death in the eye and say no. It was one of the many reasons Eames had fallen in love with him in the first place. There were so many things he wanted to say but the pain meds made it hard to think, and even harder to organize those thoughts into words, so he just kept smiling. “I love you.”

Arthur’s smile was more genuine this time. “I love you too.” He gripped Eames’ hand, running his thumb over Eames’ knuckles gently. “Get some rest. You need it.”

“Mm.” Eames closed his eyes. It wouldn’t take long for him to drift back off. He knew they were almost definitely still in at least some level of danger and they'd need to make a quick escape as soon as he was healed enough, but it all seemed so distant. It would be alright; Arthur was beside him, steady and solid, and it would be okay. “So do you.”

“I’ll stay here, it’ll be fine.” Arthur was brushing his hair back gently again, fingers lingering against his skin. “I’ll rest better now that I know you’re okay.”

[inceptioncentral]

INCEPTIVERSARY 2020 IS COMING THIS JULY! 

INCEPTI...WHAT?

Inceptiversary is our yearly celebration of Christopher Nolan’s Inception. Every year the fandom gets together to create and support fan work, discuss the film and meet like minded individuals to talk about all things Inception (and a lot of Inception-adjacent things.) The event runs on average 5-6 weeks and contains a multitude of events ranging from spreading positivity to competitive writing to collaborative fan works.

WHAT YOU NEED TO KNOW

Inceptiversary starts Wednesday, July 1 and ends Sunday, August 9.

Many events have sign ups before July! 

A master post with updated information to come in July.

On point this year is @usersoup and I’ll be handling stuff from @inceptioncentral​ with a few friendly faces.

BELOW THE CUT

How to stay up to date 

Timeline (Tentative)

Theme Weeks 

Confirmed events 

Volunteering Prize Offers

General Housekeeping

Header commission by @zigster-ao3​

HOW TO STAY UP TO DATE

+ COME CHITCHAT

Our fandom has two chat platforms you can join: 

Inception Chat on Slack

You’re Waiting for a Train on Discord 

To receive an invite to Slack, send us your email account at @inceptioncentral or alternatively please contact the Slack moderator @deinvatiwrites for more information. 

For access to the Discord, please contact @queuebird.

+ FOLLOW BLOGS

@inceptiversary 

@inceptioncentral 

Individual event blogs (listed below)

+ TRACK TAGS 

#inceptiversary — everything relating to inceptiversary

#inceptiversary2020 — everything relating to inceptiversary this year

#inception — everything related to the film, cast and fandom content

+ GOOGLE SOCIAL CALENDAR

 https://bit.ly/inceptiversary2020

TIMELINE 

Please note that there might be last-minute changes. All dates and events will be confirmed on the master post. This is the most recent timeline for this year’s Inceptiversary: 

Week 1 — Wednesday July 1 until Sunday, July 5 

Week 2 — Monday, July 6 until Sunday, July 12 

Week 3 — Monday, July 13 until Sunday, July 19 

Week 4 — Monday, July 20 until Sunday, July 26 

Week 5 — Monday, July 27 until Sunday, August 2 

Week 6 — Monday, August 3 until Sunday, August 9

THEME WEEKS

These are confirmed. 

Week 1 — Inception (General) 

Week 2 — Found Family 

Week 3 — In Peril 

Week 4 — Rare Pairs 

Week 5 — Travel 

Week 6 — Bon Appétit

CONFIRMED EVENTS

More information can be found via links and/or will be available closer to July. Please check in on the event blogs for more details, including any guidelines and participation restrictions. 

Other events remain to be confirmed and the list will be finalised in the master post. 

Please forward all event-specific questions to the appropriate blogs and/or organisers. Pay attention to signup deadlines! 

+ 30 DAY CHALLENGE @inceptiversary / @flosculatory 

The Inception 30 Day Challenge is 30 days of prompts about Inception. Everyone is invited to participate in as many days as they want and in any way they want, whether it be a photoset, original art, gifs, written word, or any other media. Prompts posted June 24th.

+ ARTHUR EAMES LAST DRABBLE WRITER STANDING @aeldws

Elimination drabble challenge. Sign-ups are first come, first serve, and there is limited room. Challenge usually runs seven or eight weeks, with one writer eliminated each week until a winner is announced. Each week drabbles are written according to Genre, Word Count, and Prompt, and writers have a week to submit their entry. Drabbles are voted on by the public and all entries are anonymous until a winner is decided. This event will run from July 3rd to August 21st. Sign ups on June 20th and 21st. Please check out @aeldws for more details.

+ #INCEPTIONAF @inceptionart​

Artists are to create work for their favourite fanfics that match up with theme weeks and post said weeks.

+ INCEPTION BIG BANG @inceptionbigbang 

This is an author and artist collaborative event where authors anonymously submit summaries of their stories (see guidelines) and artists can claim stories they’d like to create art for. Signups start soon! Works are due July 31st. Please check out @inceptionbigbang for more info.

+ INCEPTION BINGO @inceptionbingo

Participants sign up to receive a bingo card comprised of randomised tropes and/or kinks taken from a preset list, and will  have to create work inspired by these, attempting to get a complete line for bingo. Cards range from 9-25 slots. Tropes and Kink Lists have not yet updated. Sign ups close June 30th.

+ INCEPTION BINGO WATCH PARTY @inceptionwatchparty​ / @zuulee63​

This will take the place the weekend of July 18-19. Party time slots and participation information will be announced closer to the date. Participants join in on one of the multiple watch parties and try to get the fastest bingo. Cards must be requested in advance. More information to follow.

+ INCEPTION CHARITY AUCTION @inceptionauction

People donate fic, art, services, crafts etc. to raise money for a charity meaningful to our fandom. Please contact @corinnetags if you have something to put on offer. Auction will begin mid-July and run for a limited time. For more information please check out https://inception-auction.dreamwidth.org/

+ INCEPTION FANDOM FLUMMERY @inceptionficrx

Sign ups by June 29th to send and receive a virtual card from another fandom member with a short list of favourite fanworks.

+ INCEPTION FIC RX @inceptionficrx 

Every week, according to the week themes, fan fiction recommendations are posted. Wednesdays are Hump Day Fic and Fridays are Bunker Fic Friday. Hump fics are to get you through the week. Fluff, Crack, Silly fics that make you smile. Bunk fics are one that make you need to go hide in your bunk for 'special time' after reading. Usually more explicit fics and straight up smut. Please check out @inceptionficrx for past and future recs.

+ INCEPTION FRIENDING MEME  @flosculatory

The Inception Friending Meme is a form that fandom members can fill out with some information about themselves and their interests. Their info is then entered into a database that everyone can check, with the hope of finding friends with common interests! Forms currently being updated. Please check back for links on the Inceptiversary master post and follow @inceptiversary​

+ INCEPTION KITTIES @inceptionkitties

More information coming soon. It’s cat-related!

+ INCEPTION POSITIVITY @inceptionpositivity 

Inception Positivity is a place to send love and kind thoughts to Inception fandom friends anonymously and receive some love in turn. People submit kind messages via Google form and these are turned into colourful posts that are posted on the blog. Opens June 24th.

+ INCEPTION QUIZ 

Test your knowledge from Monday, July 13 to Sunday, July 26! More information coming soon.

+ INCEPTION WATCH PARTIES @inceptionwatchparty​

Watch party attendees queue up the same movie at a designated time, and message throughout. The schedule is planned beforehand but hosts sign up to run individual parties. Follow @inceptionwatchparty for updates and event planning surveys. Survey closes June 21st.

+ INCEPTION SOUNDHOUSE @inceptionsoundhouse​

Musicians make covers of songs from the soundtrack and original works to be put in an EP. Sign ups open on 8th May and close on 29th May. People will share their contact details and how they would like to contribute to the album. There will also be listening parties for the soundtrack and actors' music, a playlist creation challenge and a small fic rec challenge.

+ MORE INFORMATION AND MORE EVENTS

There are events that have yet to be confirmed and which will be listed in the master post later in the year. 

If you are a returning organiser or interested in launching a new event, please get in touch at @inceptioncentral. 

Please join us on the chat platforms as there are other mini-events being discussed.

VOLUNTEERING PRIZE OFFERS

Many Inceptiversary events are competitive in nature and result in prizes for the winners. We turn to the fandom to donate fan work, services and crafts. We also have the @inceptionauction that features fanworks and services other fans can bid upon by making donations to charities.

Please fill out this form or contact us via @inceptioncentral​ or the event organisers for more information.

HOSTING WATCH PARTIES

Get in contact with @inceptionwatchparty​ if you are able to host a watch party. Keep an eye out for surveys about which films will be on offer and make sure you vote for your preferred time slots. Please note that streaming capability isn’t required to host! 

GENERAL HOUSEKEEPING

Finally, here we are, readying ourselves for a very special 10 year anniversary of a movie that has had a huge impact on many of our lives. A lot of planning has and continues to go into this and we are always on the lookout for more hands on deck.

A few notes before we part:

@inceptioncentral​ will tentatively be posting weekly bulletins throughout July and part of August for Inceptiversary. These will have updates as to what is happening each week and will be tagged #inceptionbulletin for easy tracking.

Participation is voluntary. Certain events may contain or promote content that is unsuitable to minors, so please contact event organisers if you have any further questions about guidelines or participation restrictions.

We hope you join us this year, whether you’re returning to the fandom or new! 

If you have any questions, please forward them to the organisers and/or get in touch @inceptioncentral​.

[earlgreytea68]

2020 in Review

Tagged by @shark-myths

Fics (finished and WIP!) written this year:

Best Kept Secret (santa) (Pete/Patrick; 2.7k)

That Schrodinger guy made some really good points, you know? (Pete/Patrick; 9.9k)

Dragon Summer (Pete/Patrick; 15k)

(never) Cease and Desist (Pete/Patrick; 3.2k)

Gradually and Then Suddenly (Pete/Patrick; 2.3k)

Little Things (Pete/Patrick; 1.4k)

can i have a plus one? (with @carbonbased000) (Pete/Patrick; 2.3k)

Okay, I’ve got you (Pete/Patrick; 4.4k)

Then came a baby boy with long eyelashes (Pete/Patrick; 7.5k)

You’re the Culmination of Everything I’ve Never Had (Pete/Patrick; 81k)

the skin from your shoulder to your ear makes it all worth it (Pete/Patrick; 7.5k)

Said I loved you (but I lied) (Pete/Patrick; 6.5k)

Interlude (Arthur/Eames; 1.3k)

A Haunting (Pete/Patrick; 3.7k)

Hallmark Christmas Movie (Pete/Patrick; 16k posted so far)

Takeaways from reflecting on your kick-ass writing, or kick-ass lack of writing, during a year more focused on survival than perhaps any other:

This was actually a rough writing year, although it might not look like that from the above. But the longest of those fics, Dragon Summer and Culmination, were both mostly written in 2019, and definitely entirely written in the Before Times. However, my takeaway is that I found my way back to writing by the end of the year, and I’m proud of myself for that. I thought that I would -- or hoped that I would -- and I’m glad that it felt more like me writing as the year wore on. It’s still off, in that way so much of our lives are still off, but in the way that we’ve managed to find ourselves in the middle of our changed circumstances, I feel that’s what I did with writing this year. 

Most surprising fic you wrote this year:

Maybe Schrodinger. I wasn’t planning on writing a Valentine fic, and I definitely wasn’t planning on throwing a kid into the mix, and then it all just sorta happened, and that whole ‘verse was a lifesaver this year. 

Best thing that happened this year because you write fic:

Every year fic finds a way to save my life, and this year was no different. From the fact that having my support system already online meant that losing all human contact wasn’t as harsh as it could have been to the fact that I very explicitly used fic to process my feelings throughout this pandemic, fic has been a great joy this year (as it always is). 

How you grew as a writer this year:

I think I was much more consciously and deliberately willing to write myself and my experiences into the stories. I feel like in previous years I’ve had a habit of being like, “This is what I imagine this feels like,” and this year, more often, I forced myself to be more like, “This is what it feels like for me, does it feel like this for you?” (Maybe credit Pete Wentz a little for this, because I feel like his lyrics ask that question a lot.) Anyway, it wasn’t like I never put myself into any previous fics, just that this year I really paid attention to it. 

If someone’s going to read just one of your 2020 fics, which one should they read?

Culmination because it would be a nice long distraction. 

What’s coming in 2021:

WHO KNOWS. After this year, I’m no longer making predictions. I will say that I have two works-in-progress that I’m really hoping I’m inspired to finish in the new year, because I really like the premises of both, I just ran out of steam in the pandemic. 

I tag @fiamac @kate2kat @katiewont @teacuphuman09 and anyone else who would like to do this!

[sopxhiea]

Daze

Eames X Reader

“The whole of Rome wasn’t enough to daze him but even a small glance from her was all he needed to feel home again..”

The sounds of cars passing and the sunshine peeking through the open windows that served as the wall filled their vision, the room was rather quiet. For the first time, it wasn’t a comfortable silence: it brought questions in from the extraordinary yet, all there was in term of movement was the swaying of her leg as she sat.

She was wearing a dark blue dress, it was quite loose overall except the waist part, perfectly sculpting her figure for the rest to see. Her hair was in a low bun, it was carelessly put together and the shortness of it meant that her face was perfectly framed by her hair. There were slippers on her feet, fluffy ones that could be mistaken for shoes if she went out, she was paying no mind to them as she moved her leg up and down, her feet moving along with it.

The seats were all occupied, all of them staring at Cobb as he waited for an answer, an idea to be exact. Ariadne and Arthur sat on the sofa while her and Eames sat on different chairs. They had been hired by some ultra billionaire to do a job, it was complex but they were known to pull off these kind of jobs after the Fischer case.

There were maps and sketches across the board Cobb was standing next to as Y/N eyed them, Eames eyeing her. All of them were quiet the team, to a point where they were involved in overseas jobs now. It was cold in Rome, the view was breathtaking regardless. Y/N’s eyes fluttered open after a while, realising that she hadn’t slept well yesterday. It had been a tiring day but with each passing week, she found it harder to sleep.

“Can we use a time slope?” she asked, pulling everyone from the small confused thoughts they were having when it came to pulling this job.

“A time...what?” asked Ariadne, Arthur and Cobb seemed to know what it was as they both sighed.

“A time slope.” said Y/N, getting up and drawing one on the board.

“Like.... a physics graph?” asked Ariadne again, Eames didn’t say a word.

“Yes, pretty much.” she said once again, eyeing Cobb as she looked at her expectantly before explaining. “It’s usually used with velocity of... something.” she made a wave with her hand in the air which caused Eames to smile a little.

“But in terms of time realms, we can just implement the velocity of time to do the calculations and come up with the real timing for whatever it is we intent to do.”she said, leaning back on the desk next to the board as Cobb got lost in his thoughts again.

“Math wasn’t my strongest subject.” Eames spoke before sitting up on the chair more properly, only looking at her. “Why can’t we just use the same calculations from the Fischer job, now?” asked Eames before locking gazes with Y/N.

“That wouldn’t work, we’re not using the same depth as that one.” said Arthur, shaking his head as he spoke again.

“It could work but they won’t be as stable.” he said, eyeing Y/N again before he looked at Cobb.

“It seems stable enough to me, we’re out of a chemist anyway.” Cobb spoke before looking at Y/N as they all gathered around the board to see the plan of what was to be done.

“Get on it.” he said to Y/N before leaving the room, Arthur was explaining something to a business man that had just entered the room and Ariadne was looking over the plans.

Y/N was glancing at the sketch Cobb had brought in the realm that he wanted designed when Eames’ hands found her waist to stop himself from bumping into her. She barely reached his chin even in heels which he found endearing, a small smile tugged on his lips before speaking as she moved aside along with his hands.

“Sorry, doll.” he spoke in a thick accent, his accent changed sometimes, it was smoother in some days than others.

“It’s alright.” she said quietly.

Eames had been an admirer for a long time, ever since the day they had met where she nearly blew his face off because she didn’t want to do the job with Cobb, he was unstable and given the obvious reasons, it was only the sane answer. Along the missions they had carried out and the many jobs this group had been through, Eames had many chances to act on the feelings perking up but he didn’t.

She was quite feisty, needless to say she was a charmer and a beauty with brains. Before she had gotten into this business, she was an architect that made a lot of money but she possessed a boring life. Then she started doing the job and found out she was better at this than any other thing and the next thing she knew, she was being paid a lot for it and became the number one name for the given job and that’s how she made her way into his life.

She had to admit, Eames wasn’t too shabby himself. She wasn’t the best with feelings, let alone admitting that she might have felt things towards him. She did the job, got the money, disappeared for a while before they had a new job and remained professional. She had a couple lovers before but no one mature enough to sustain a good relationship. 

They locked eyes for a second before she averted hers, it was just Eames staring at her for a while after that. He smiled at his feet and looked back at the board again, trying not to stare too hard at the woman next to him. 

“You alright?” he asked, realising the tired figure of the woman as she smiled, wishing she was back in bed even though it was barely sunset time.

“Yeah...” she nodded, looking at his blue orbs before she spoke again. She knew he wouldn’t let go of it if she wasn’t truthful. “I haven’t had much sleep in the last couple of weeks is all.” she said, her voice low as everyone left the room, they all went to their own to unwind before they met again at night to discuss a couple things.

“Why’s that, doll?” he asked, he was always gentle with her. Flirty but gentle.

“I don’t...know, really. Could be anything.” she said, her words were breathy this time as a headache made its way up her nerves.

The truth was that she was restless, she was working too much and even when she had the time to work, her mind wouldn’t leave her alone. Sometimes all she did was sleep but no amount of sleep cured her problem. She had been a little hard on herself on a previous job and now it was her body taking revenge.

“You seem rather tired.” he looked at her eyes again. “Care for a drink?” he said, smirking to himself as he waited for an answer.

Of course, he wanted to have a drink after telling her that she was tired. He had his own ways. This was the 4th time he was asking her for a drink, she had said no to the other offers because she was either too busy or too lazy to go but as of lately, she didn’t mind his company like she avoided the first couple of times. Now that the sun was setting and her eyes found his blue orbs, she didn’t see why not.

“Sure.” The pure look of surprise and excitement on his face was entertaining to say the least.

———————————————————————————————————

An hour later, she found herself in the same flowy dress with just a little more make up looking for him. She was a very attractive woman and it wasn’t the usual ideal of beauty she possessed, it was something out of the ordinary that made heads turn even in a simple blue dress and that was the occasion when she came in the restaurant, looking for Eames around the place.

A tall gentlemen approached her after a couple seconds, realising that Eames wasn’t here yet or she simply wasn’t able to see him. He touched her hand and held out his arm as Y/N took a good look at him, he seemed charming but foreign.

“It seems as though you don’t have company for this evening, Miss.” he spoke in a classic American accent as she examined him, there was a gun in her purse and she could do many things with a fork that didn’t involve anything. This job had taught her to be cautious of people, even if they were attractive gentlemen looking for some company and maybe that was why she had avoided Eames for a long time before fully trusting him.

It had happened recently. The last job they had together involved a mob, it was only Arthur, her and Eames because the others were off with other jobs and things they had to deal with. There were too many of the other guys and just when Y/N was about to receive a bullet meant to go right through her skull, he had been there to pull her out of danger and foremost, risk his own life. She had been in the game for long enough to know most people would just ditch the partner and leave because there was the risk of being trapped in a void.

The gentlemen pulled her back from her thoughts as he spoke.

“I would be more than happy to be your company.” he suggested, a charming smile on his lips. 

She gave him a generous smile to make up the fact that she was about the reject his offer and spoke softly. “Oh, I’m flattered by the off-”

“Hello there, doll.” spoke Eames before grabbing her gently by the waist, he was being protective and his body language said more than enough.

“The company is here, lad.” he said, kissing her cheek softly as she gave the red-faced gentleman a soft smile, enjoying his possessive touch. 

 “So you can back off, yeah?” he said one last time and took her hand to lead her through the restaurant, he knew the place like the back of his hand as the gentlemen disappeared into the night. A smile made its way into her lips as she was greeted by the waiter in the well light part of the restaurant.

There were flowers on a round vase, candles lit around the place as well as on top of the table. The aura smelled of vanilla and the colors were soft, simply lovely. The waiter greeted him like a friend so she knew he was a regular here. She gave him a soft smile before sitting down on the chair he pulled out for her.

After he sat down and they had enough eye contact for her to feel her cheeks reddening, which never happened, she spoke as she looked down on the wine glass.

“I thought we were just gonna get a drink.” she said, almost a whisper because she didn’t want to seem to rude, although she was usually harsh with him.

“We are.....just getting a drink.” he said, as the waiter handed them both a menu of desserts and drinks.

She didn’t do this, in all her years of going out with guys and being around them, she never did this: with feelings that made her heart go all soft. She was harsh, she was known for being a little high maintenance and generally going according to the rules she has set out for herself which was to be professional and keep away from relationships.

But him, he was hard to bear. After gaining her trust, she had realised the beaming smile he had and how charming he could be, especially towards her. And he had been admiring her for so long, everything about her: her brains, the way she talked and her small chuckles, her beauty and the obvious stern look she seemed to carry around sometimes, it was all reasons why he was secretly an admirer until recently.

He had always been flirty with her, even when she had teased her about his relationship with Arthur and how adorable of a couple they would make. Little touches and smiles here and there didn’t go unnoticed, not by her or the rest of the group but she ignored it because she was both keen on keeping things professional as well as not having her heart broken.

After ordering and a couple minutes of silence, he spoke up with a signature smirk he carried around her.

“You look gorgeous, doll.” he said, eyeing her intensely but she didn’t know what to do.

“Well, thank you.” she said, small sips of the wine kept her busy.

“Have you managed to figure out why you were so restless?” he asked, being sweet as always.

“I guess it’s because of the last job.” she spoke softly, tracing the bottom part of the wine glass as he looked at her lips and nothing else. “I was just..a little scared I guess.” she admitted, he was already breaking down the barriers she had worked hard to built, not just for him but for anyone to protect herself.

“The bullet was real close, yeah?”he said, chuckling at your visible soft side to him now which he rarely got to see.

“I’m glad you were there.” she admitted, not looking up to see his heavy gaze but instead smiled at herself for being so foolish, being so open with him after the small touches they had shared and the long conversations in the empty rooms they would end up in.

“I’m glad you’re here.” he said, caressing her fingertips as to reassure her.

After months and months of knowing her, he had worked hard to bring down the walls she had around her. She didn’t open up, ever. She was a tough woman who knew what she wanted and was more than capable of getting it. He admired her and the more time they spent, the more closer he wanted to be with her.

Usually, this would go away. He was quite the player. Countless women had been in his bed and he knew how to work his way around them, he thought this was a small crush on her, like the one Arthur had on Y/N the first couple of weeks they worked together but eventually and quite rapidly, it went away and the feelings had faded. 

But Eames didn’t feel any of it going away and worst part was that he was getting attached to her, even with all the missions and the endless amount of respect he had for Cobb, he still wouldn’t risk his life for him but he had for Y/N, even though she never knew any of these. 

The rest of the evening was filled with Eames’ jokes and Y/N growing more interested in him. He was so extremely charming that Y/N, the cold woman she was, had to stop herself from smiling at him and his charming self. They laughed and talked about missions or people they knew in common which turned out to be more than they had realised.

Eames walked her up to her room, keeping himself close to her because he was scared. He was scared that this was a one time things that would never happen and sometimes, much like it did in their job, he couldn’t tell of this was a dream or reality, an alternative parallel where Y/N was actually interested in him.

If any woman that knew Eames saw him like this, he would be unrecognisable. He was all soft and sweet, his flirty side was there too but he was being so careful with her, so cautious because it felt like she was a dainty flower that would bloom once in a life time and he was careful not to hurt her in any way.

At her door, she knew he expected her to invite him in even though it was asking for too much but she didn’t. Instead, she kissed his cheek goodnight before they would have to meet again towards midnight for the discussion with the group. The truth was, she was feeling things inside she had refrained from but she couldn’t help herself as a smiley Eames walked towards his room to rest.

———————————————————————————————————

There was silence in the room again, not sleepy silence but more of a tired one. It was late at night and Cobb was just done with his part of the work so the group had to gather again, he would share the information he had just gotten from the source and walk them through the plan he had done in his mind on the way to the hotel, and they would either add or change things according to how they wanted to do this.

They were all wearing casual clothes except Cobb which had come from a meeting with a chemist, someone they needed to complete the job. Y/N was half-laying on the sofa in her nightgown, too tired to change into anything else so she had a silk robe around her, too. The others were in sweats while Eames was in his silk shirt still, the only difference were the unbuttoned upper part of the shirt.

Cobb told them about the strategy, explained it all to them and they all agreed to come up with their sides of the strategy in the morning when they weren’t soo sleepy. Eames followed behind Y/N as she walked, not sleepy but tired as always. When they got into the elevator, they realised it was only the two of them and they both formed a lazy smile on their lips, across each other.

“That was a load.” he said and she laughed out loud, not that it was extremely funny but because she enjoyed the company.

“You’re gonna be able to sleep today, doll?” he asked while they approached her floor. She sighed, shaking her head with a small smile.

“Don’t think so but I’ll try.” she chuckled to herself, she was so out of her guard at this hour and he had already broken down a couple walls down.

“I’ll get to sleep then.” she whispered softly and just when she was about to wish him goodnight, he took a step forward and spoke.

“I’m not sleepy either, doll.” he said, swaying a piece of hair from her face as she stared at his lips. “Why don’t you come back to my room, eh?” he asked, his accent filling every word with more pleasure than she could mutter as she thought it over and over in her intoxicated mind before muttering an answer.

“Sure.”

———————————————————————————————————

I just watched Inception and I’m a sucker for Tom Hardy in any role so here it goes, lemme know what you think!! and Merry Christmas!!

[tommyplum]

- the time before that and the other time after | eames/yusuf, eames/arthur for the eames’ stupid cupid 2020

It's not exactly a vacation; it's not exactly anything, other than a port in a temporary storm.

notes: content warning for amnesia. thank you to my dearest boy john for reading this over and preventing embarrassing mistakes with the british idiom <3 -maggie

"Don't be bloody ridiculous, Eames," Yusuf says, as Arthur links his fingers with Eames's, already turning to step out of the door's threshold into the pounding midday sun. Eames smiles, lips parting to say something, but Yusuf shuts the door.

---

eighteen days before that

"I wouldn't do this if there was any other way," Arthur said, and his mouth was tight at the corners, already flat eyes going flatter in the way that he did when he was hiding his distress. Arthur's eyes reminded Yusuf sometimes of an ancient nanny goat that his aunt Karima had, at her home in Arusha when he'd visited as a boy. She was a pretty goat, but she'd look at you with those strange flattened eyes and you'd wonder if she was thinking about her hooves meeting your chin.

Eames chose that moment to say, "It's enchanting how you talk about me as if I'm a potted plant. Should I go stand in a suitable decorative nook?" and Arthur buttoned his lips tighter, smoothing uncharacteristic rumples from his suit vest, embroidered with tiny fleur-de-lis. 

"I'm doing what's best for you," he told Eames, but looked at Yusuf. "We're going on a job and it'll be hard enough with Cobb forging in your place. We can't lose this contract. Or this client, for that matter, and once you're … yourself again, you'll agree with me."

"Can't imagine there's altogether much we agree on in any version of reality," Eames murmured, fixing his shirt-cuffs. Yusuf, always a potted plant, cleared his throat a little and said, "I don't mind, honestly. These things happen when you use compounds that haven't been rigorously tested. I've seen it before and I know what to do." He smiled at Eames, and that, at least, felt natural in this entire unnatural situation. "You're in good hands."

Arthur raised his eyebrows slightly, the way a faintly exasperated but mostly worried child-minder would at their recalcitrant charges, and Eames nodded, looking down for a moment before raising his head with a bright, cheerful, entirely artificial smile. "I never did have many sleepovers as a boy. We'll make up for lost time, eh?" and his hand clapped down on Yusuf's shoulder.

"A fortnight," Arthur said to Yusuf, and even as he was saying it his face shifted from concentrating on The Situation With Mr. Eames to The Inception Job At Hand. "Maybe a few days more, but under a month. We'll contact you as soon as we get back."

"Yes, of course," Yusuf said courteously, and heard himself make the banal rote addition, "--no rush, take your time."

Arthur gave a smile flatter than a nanny goat's eyes. "Time, Yusuf, is the one thing I never own enough of to take."

---

seven days once that happened

"If you won't let me dream." Eames said, "at least take me out. I'm going mental cooped up in here all day, and it wouldn't even need to be anything special! It's all new to me! That's the good part of temporary Somnesia, mate -- everything old is new again."

Yusuf grimaced at the term that Eames had come up with for his dodgy-Somnacin-induced amnesia, although secretly he loved it, adored the puckishness of how Eames played around with everything -- words, clothes, food, names, bodies. "You do dream," Yusuf pointed out pedantically, "you'd be in much worse shape right now if you couldn't dream under your own steam. But you can't go under, not until your condition clears."

"Yessss." Eames got off the settee, coming over to where Yusuf was sitting at the dining table in his glasses, going through notes on a test formulation of clomipramine with an adjusted active metabolite (terribly engaging stuff, Yusuf thought, at least if a person -- such as himself -- was smart enough to understand it, unlike whoever'd been employed to run the PASIV that had put Eames in this state). Eames folded his arms on the table, glancing over the notes before nudging himself, full-body, like an enormous dog, against Yusuf. "I know all that, and I accept it, and I am grateful for your conscientious nursemaiding. Now take me out and let's get a proper meal, and a few drinks, and think about something other than sodding tricyclic compounds for a change."

"But I know so much about tricyclic binding profiles!" Yusuf protested, even as he let Eames drag him up from his chair, chivvy him into the bedroom, choose out clothes and get him dressed and aim them out the door and down the street. 

"Yessss!" Eames said again, only this time with much more bounding cheer as he beamed and took in the busy streets, the colours of the clothes and the sky and the trees, the smell of hot pitch and motor exhaust gusted away periodically by salt breezes. "If you tell me that you spend most of your days in your musty little house with your manky little cat poring over lists of molecule chains instead of coming out here, Yusuf, I'll weep, I really will."

Yusuf stuffed his hands in his pockets and angled past a stray yellow dog lying panting happily on the sidewalk. "I do work there," he pointed out, faintly miffed at this summation of the home he'd so generously shared with Eames the past few days. "My mother decorated it."

Eames made a face of contrition, although it was there and gone in the space of a pretty girl passing by riding a bike with a pretty boy behind her, both of them returning the smile that Eames sent along with them. "Past time then for you to get your own tastes in, don't you think?" Eames murmured, and nodded at the outdoor tables of a small restaurant. Fifteen minutes later they were washing down crispy fried packed potatoes and beef samosas with icy cold Tuskers, watching more attractive people go by, and Yusuf was starting to get a little self-conscious about the somewhat camphor-ball smell that clung to his clothes. 

"I do come out, you know," he said suddenly, and Eames looked at him, sweat making little droplets along his temples and marching down the straight bridge of his nose. "Eh?" Eames said, and Yusuf repeated louder, "--it's not as if I don't know my way around here, I'm from here. Originally, I mean. It's not a novelty."

Eames squeezed the juice from a quarter of lemon into the bitten end of a samosa and nodded, nipping his fingertips around his tongue to lick off the tart juice. "All right, then, love," he said easily, and something in Yusuf uncoiled.

---

three days prior, though

"I'm capable of cooking my own meals," Eames yawned, standing bare-footed in Yusuf's kitchen and stooping to fondle the cat behind the ears before it mrrped and strode on its way. "You're already putting me up and safeguarding my mental state, surely that counts as above and beyond."

"I was making food anyhow," Yusuf said, gesturing with his slotted spoon and dripping hot oil on the stove. "You'll like these -- there's chai in the pot, have some -- I loved them when I was a boy, we call them mitha bhajias, my sister would have to race to get her share before I ate them all." He peered into the bubbling cauldron of the iron pot, watching the little cardamom doughnut balls turn and jitter, before wondering why Eames had nothing to say about Yusuf's childhood greed and turning to look over his shoulder. "What, no comments about my--"

The joke slumped into a huff of confusion; Eames was shaking, shaking as if somebody had him by the shoulders and was jerking him back and forth, his eyes tightly shut, one hand clasping and unclasping against his thigh while the heel of the other pressed into the side of his head. Cursing under his breath, Yusuf dropped the spoon in the pot and went over to Eames, calling his name a few times until there was some spark of recognition, and only then did he reach out. Wrapping his hands around the man's thick shoulders, feeling the straps of his ribbed white vest damp beneath his palms as he guided Eames to a chair and sat him down. Eames went without protest, which was a relief, and Yusuf checked his eyes, his mouth, made him count fingers, and then Eames reached up and grabbed Yusuf's hand (three fingers, he hadn't had any trouble counting them, nothing neurological then thank God--) to clench in both his own.

"Freddy," he burbled, eyes greyer than blue, watery, his face shocked pale beneath the tan. "Freddy Simmonds, yes? That's who I am? That's my name." 

Yusuf blinked. He didn't, actually, know.

---

once, four years and two and a half months ago

Yusuf had thought about what kissing Eames would be like, but it wasn't anything like this, and that was because Eames was kissing him . An entirely separate equation, because Yusuf then had the luxurious headspace come available like a mughal's suite that he was the desirable one, to this man, that he hadn't even needed to initiate with the humiliating possibility of being sweetly and firmly turned down. Yusuf wasn't lacking in self-esteem, he'd had lovers when he'd liked to, but Eames was something again altogether. An interloper who'd made himself comfortable, like the cat, like the pots and jars of condiments that sat on the kitchen table, like the things that you never thought about once they'd become a part of your life.

"You don't mind, do you?" Eames murmured, pressing a fat-mouthed little buss to the corner of Yusuf's chin and chuckling, "--I must say, darling, I'm accustomed to a bit more of a fuss when I'm snogging somebody handsome," and Yusuf shook himself fully into what was happening.

"Oh," he said, and then laughed, setting his hands against Eames' hips and starting to rub and knead and massage the flesh there as Eames purred encouragingly and Yusuf continued, "oh, I was … I'm sorry, I'm being rude, you're right. I'll make up for it."

The chenille spread on his bed was nubby under the exposed parts of their skin, crushing soft into the dampness as their bodies warmed each other up, and Yusuf thought that it wasn't too often unexpected things happened to him. He lived an ordered, orderly life and he liked things comfortable, and that was why he'd begun dabbling in this line of work, just enough excitement in subverting big pharmaceutical companies without being important enough for them to bother with him. Eames hadn't figured into that life. Until he very suddenly had , and now here they were, and Eames' voice was scrubby and urgent in Yusuf's ear, and the weight of him was heavy and intimate and good and Yusuf thought, yes, yes this is what i've maybe been missing, this

---

almost three years following that

"--is called Arthur." Eames' voice dived into a throaty crackle on the r, pulling it out, and Yusuf could tell from that alone. 

"All right," Yusuf said, and, "goodbye," and hung up.

---

fifteen days into being somnesiac

Eames yawned and Yusuf marvelled at how much it sounded like that time in the kitchen, whenever-it-was-ago. He could almost smell the sweet fritters in oil; but then again, that was how Eames smelled these days, of green-spice cardamom behind the creases of his ears, and a slight mothball camphor because he was still just wearing Yusuf's clothes. "You should get a bigger bed," Eames mumbled, and then turned a little, the bed creaking, to say, "--and don't tell me mummy bought this one so you've never thought of changing it."

"I bought this bed," Yusuf confirmed, shifting as Eames rolled back onto his side and cuddled back into his pillow, the movement dragging their linked hands further onto Eames' stomach and Yusuf's arm more snugly against Eames' body. "And most of the time I've no need for a bigger one. The cat doesn't take up much space."

"I do," Eames said. "I'm short but significant, you could say."

"Would anybody say that?" Yusuf wondered aloud, and Eames chortled, pushing his hips back so they were curved into steeper spoons. Yusuf went still for a moment before letting himself relax again. They'd been doing this most of the time Eames had been here, after the semi-seizure in the kitchen; it ostensibly began so that Yusuf could keep an eye on his charge, but then they'd given up on propriety (if, indeed, Eames ever possessed any to begin with) and began sleeping draped on each other, cuddled up, curled and sprawled and every other way to get comfortable that they could find. Most of the time, it was just that -- comfort, easy friendly warmth and the press of familiar flesh, companionship to help ease them into slumber. Most of the time.

This time, though.

Eames pulled their hands up higher on his front, his fingers opening and closing, and cocked one hip. "I know who I am, you know that," he said quietly. A kiskadee announced itself outside the window, startling Yusuf, making him snap back more brusquely than he intended, "Yes, you're self-aware, congratulations," before Eames snorted.

"That's not what I'm saying." Eames pushed a foot back, a rough patch at the heel barking against the inside of Yusuf's ankle. "I remember who I am . It's not as though I've completely lost the plot, Yusuf, I know me, I know you--"

"You know where you are and what day it is?"

"--I know what I'm doing." Eames turned his head, and there was his face, all straight-tipped nose soft with the oil of his warm sleepy skin, lips plump and pink, softly wet, falling open, eyes dark and watchful, calm, unworried. "It's hardly taking advantage."

Yusuf breathed in, and he breathed out. "I don't think anybody could possibly take advantage of you," he said, and Eames gave a bit of a chuckle until Yusuf continued, "...I don't think you'd ever let yourself admit to it, that anything's happened to you like that, nothing that you haven't been to bla--"

The phone rang.

---

the day of

Arthur keeps ducking his head slightly, like if he can just catch a glimpse beneath Eames' chin, he'll be able to see the memory flooding back. It's not going to work like that. Eames has been remembering, and the fact that he knows who he is, that's a positive sign, one that Yusuf has nurtured for this fortnight-plus. But the rest of it will sift back like lumpy flour, some of it needing to be pushed through that sieve of drug-haze with the fingertips, a little extra pressure applied.

Yusuf's not one for applying pressure. He likes his life, comfortable. He likes the size of his bed.

"I can't -- we can't thank you enough," Arthur starts, and Yusuf waves his hand.

"It's nothing, " he says, with a smile. "We're old friends, after all. I'd be happy to have Mr. Eames stay with me again."

"Next time let's do it without the damned Somnesia, eh, Yusuf?" Eames says, his fingers twirling patterns against the inside of Arthur's wrist, the light illuminating the blue of his grey eyes as he steps into the front doorway. "And this time I'll cook the breakfasts, and the teas, while I'm at it, and you can recite chemical formulas to me like sutras while I stand over the pots."

"Don't be bloody ridiculous, Eames," Yusuf says, as Eames links his fingers with Arthur's, already stepping down the two stairs from the front door into the beating early afternoon sun. Eames is saying something, lips curving around the words, but Yusuf shuts the door.

/end

[ao3feed-arthureames]

A tale of trust

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2uOPK77

by dreaminghigher (regencyaus)

That fandom classic His Dark Materials!AU.

Eames has a shifting daemon and a crush on his newest business contact. The rest, well- the rest is history.

  “What can you see?” Eames asks his daemon.

“A man. Looks green, to be honest, but it must be the contact we're here to meet. Nicely dressed.”

Hmm. Eames considers this.

“Daemon?”

“Coyote,” Lily answers immediately.

The info Eames had was some kind of canine. This must be it.

“Alright. Act normal,” he tells Lily. “We’re kinda wanted in Baltimore but it’s been years. Blend in and we'll be fine.”

“Please. When have I ever not acted normal?”

Eames grins at her. “Do you want that chronology?”

“Hush,” she says, and flies a little over his right shoulder. “Let’s meet this guy.”

Words: 5909, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Inception (2010)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Arthur (Inception), Eames (Inception), Original Daemon Character(s)

Relationships: Arthur/Eames (Inception)

Additional Tags: First Time, Alternate Universe - His Dark Materials Fusion, Vague 19th century setting, Angst, ish kinda not really, his dark material au means that evryone has a daemon, daemons are animals that are a physical manifestation of your soul, more info inside, not a teenage au eames daemon just keeps changing into adulthood

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2uOPK77

[convenientalias]

“No…I’m afraid that you want to fail.” Choose ur own ship!

I choose… Inception, Dom Cobb/Saito. Cross-posted to AO3.

Thanks for the prompt!

Saito came to visit Cobb’s newoffice a month after it was set up.

“I’m surprised you found me,” Cobbsaid. He took Saito’s coat and hung it up on instinct—something about Saito madeyou want to act like a valet.

“You can’t really be surprised bythat,” Saito said. “You know my resources.”

“Okay, maybe I’m not.”

“Though to be sure, you did not setup this business to be easily found. A new business for training people inmental security. Most of your clients will be the very rich and influential.And yet you did not think to contact me and ask for my connections.”

“If you told your connections what Idid for you, they’d have certain expectations,” Cobb said. “I’m not doinginception again. We nearly went mad pulling that off. Besides, I’m goingstraight. From now on, I won’t even be doing extractions.”

“Going straight?” Saito mused. Hecocked his head. “A difficult thing for a man of your predilections…”

Cobb wasn’t sure exactly what Saitowas remarking on. Was he questioning Cobb’s ability to stay within legalbounds? Or, perhaps, a more personal comment…

He could remember the one night theyhad spent together. The night before the inception was scheduled to take place.

“Having a hard time sleeping, Mr.Cobb?”

There had been a gleam in Saito’seyes.

“We’ll be getting plenty of sleeptomorrow.”

“That’s true.” A step closer. “I’msure you find it hard to sleep these days. Men like you find it hard to dreamwithout assistance. I researched you, you know. The amount of somnacin you buyis too much even for your alleged activities.”

“You don’t need to remind me thatyou know everything about me. I remember.”

Saito had put a hand on hisshoulder. Let the subject drop. “Since we’ll be getting plenty of sleeptomorrow, we might as well spend the night on other things.”

Saito had researched more about Cobbthan his drug habits.

“I want to leave my past behind,”Cobb said. “Working extractions—especially using my past connections—won’t helpme with that.”

Saito snorted. “I could help you tofind legitimate business. The majority of my own business is legitimate.”

“My history with you is not.”

“I told you I could make the past goaway,” Saito said. “Why worry about it anymore?”

Cobb sighed.

“It’s worse than you not utilizingyour connections,” Saito said. “When I was trying to find so, I could do soeasily enough, but only because I was trying. You haven’t even set up awebsite. It’s as if you want this business to fail.”

“I don’t want much of an internetpresence.”

“This is the modern era, Mr. Cobb.One can’t avoid using the internet.”

“I don’t…”

“Tell me the truth. Are you tryingto fail?”

Cobb shook his head. “No, I…”

Was he? Certainly his heart wasn’tin the new business. The last time he had done legitimate work, he’d had Mal ashis partner. The last time he’d been with his family in America, Mal had beenhere. And after that, he’d had a mission, and he’d had Arthur, sometimes Eamesor others. Alone, without the goal of coming home driving him, without hisraison d’etre, his work felt empty. His life felt empty.

But he couldn’t think that way.

“No,” he said. “I want this to work.For James and Philippa. I have to build a new life here.”

“Then you can’t be so afraid of theman you used to be—the man you are—to even put forth the effort.”

“You’re right.” Cobb met Saito’seyes. “I guess I’ll have to ask you, then. Is anyone you know looking for helpwith mental security?”

Saito smiled. “I know a few people.”

They talked business for the nexttwo hours, and Saito promised he would talk to a few people on Cobb’s behalf.He did not ask for anything in exchange. Cobb wondered whether that meant itwas a favor to a friend, or if he was putting it on Cobb’s tab and wouldeventually ask for something in exchange.

“I should go now,” he said eventually.“This visit has been enjoyable.”

Cobb said, “Next time, I’ll take youout to dinner.”

Saito smiled. “All right, then. ButI expect to see your business flourishing, Mr. Cobb. I expect great things fromyou.” As he left, he called out, “Stop sabotaging yourself.”

It would have been a nicer farewellwithout the final note, but Cobb accepted it. He’d have a lot of work to do.

[blinder-s]

Imagination / Eames

yo sorry this took me fuvking months and its still shit lol

here is my master list!

Words: 2,657

Warnings: swearings / illnesses / sad idk? its not that sad but 

You and Eames went back a long way. The two of you had dated for four years before you became ill and ended up in a different hospital bed every week. Then you called it quits.

Although it killed you to do it; you couldn’t watch him stagnate this way in his life, and you couldn’t bare to see him throw away his chances of living without love. 

So you broke up with him, severing all ties and cutting off all contact with him. You had no idea where your ex-boyfriend was these days, and although you only had yourself to blame; sometimes it upset you knowing that you’d never feel the way his arms wrapped around you again.

Eames missed you. How could he not? He tried to forget about you; how your hands fitted perfectly with his, and what it felt like to fall asleep next to you, only your tiny breaths and snores to be heard. But he knew you did it for his sake, because you didn’t want to see him sat next to your hospital bed every day instead of experiencing everything that someone else could give him. But what you didn’t know was that Eames would’ve spent every hour of everyday looking at your eyes, and spent every penny he had on flowers or anything to make you smile whilst you sat exhausted in the metal barred bed. 

Today was the day before his biggest and most important extraction. It was for a powerful man who Cobb believed could bring him back to America to see his children. And despite Eames spending the majority of his time gambling his days away in Mombasa, he too wanted to go home. But back to England. And mainly back to you.

He knew you’d be disappointed in him, the way he became dependent on poker, and the way he forged a living in a hidden-away city; all because of a mission that went wrong a couple of years back. His first attempt at inception.

The first level went smoothly, but then the second; his level. You were there and the idea didn’t take so he hibernated for several months in various bars in Salerno, before moving to Mombasa. In the middle of nowhere.

The day arrived, Eames not having slept a wink. He boarded the plane, following the structured plan and making side-glances at his old friend Cobb, and appallingly dull co-worker, Arthur. He even gave Saito a small smile, despite disliking the idea of having him being part of the dream and process. Though, he had become fairly useful in buying the first class cabin, and stopping Cobb from getting killed; so he rolled his eyes and sucked it up, and waited for the mission to begin.

It began quite badly, to say the least. Arthur hadn’t done his research, causing Eames’ snide and pessimistic comments to triple. He hadn’t always been this negative in life; when he was dating you, he hadn’t ever felt so happy and positive about life- you just seemed to make everything better for him. 

And then you left, and things came crashing down again. He was miserable. And being back around Arthur, who was originally a friend of yours, didn’t help at all.

You see, before you became ill, you were also part of the extraction team. You and Arthur worked side-by-side, having gone to college together and keeping in touch. The first moment Eames saw you, he knew you were the brightest star in the sky. 

The brightest star in the entire universe.

He watched as you worked with the impossibly boring man, managing to make everything more positive than ever. Whilst Arthur would fret and struggle with intricate details, you would just smile and point out the bigger picture. You didn’t seem to care if it annoyed Arthur, and often pointed things out so bluntly that Eames was sure you were asking for a punch. 

And that was what Eames loved about you.

So, you can see why he hated Arthur. Once upon a time, when you were in the picture, the two could see eye-to-eye and even joked around sometimes. Now, all that were exchanged were dull looks and steely glances between the pair. 

It was especially tense now, since Arthur had messed up the research, “(Y/N) wouldn’t have let this happen,” he growled, deliberately knocking into his shoulder. Arthur grabbed Eames’ forearm and pulled him to the side.

“You’ve gotta let her go, man,” he mumbled, “I know you’re thinking about her.” Arthur pulled Eames to the side.

“Fuck off, Arthur,” he grimaced. What killed him the most was the fact that Arthur and you still talked from time to time, whilst he was kept in the dark. He guessed it was fair, since you two were friends before he came into the picture, but did you not realise that he was still very much in love with you? 

“I’m sorry, Eames.” He consoled, following the British man over to where Cobb was, “you know she never wanted to end it with you, right? And I tried to stop her, but she insisted that you deserved a better life than one next to a hospital bed.”

Eames turned to the man.

“If you want her back then go and get her.” Arthur theorised, taking the path of ‘tough love’ in one last ditch attempt to try and get through to his colleague.

“I said fuck off, didn’t I Arthur? Are you really that incompetent?” Eames brushed him aside, anger taking over. Arthur was lucky he hadn’t already been punched. Eames however turned his attention to Cobb, his displeased nature shining through, “I was supposed to have tall night to crack this.” 

“Saito wasn't supposed to be shot in the chest.” He reasoned, “you’ve got one hour, so get us something useful. Please.” Dom’s last word was added as a plea, in hope. In desperation.

Eames knew exactly what desperation felt like. He was desperate for you; for anything. Your voice, your smile, you touch. 

So he continued on with the mission, trying to worm his way into Fischer’s mind as his uncle Peter. It wasn’t a difficult task, since he had been researching and practicing the man several months prior.

They continued down further and further until he was into his own dream. Of course Ariadne had prepared him for this, and everything was as it should be, despite Saito’s depleting health. 

It was at this stage that Eames felt hopeful. His grey eyes started to lift at the thought of completing inception, and even the thought of Cobb seeing his children after decades of torment. But it was the thought that he knew what he had to do.

He had to get back to you. 

All he could think of was your smile. The way your cheeks would redden, and your eyes would crinkle and your teeth would appear as white as snow. The way you always wore your favourite lipstick, but sometimes you’d wear red and Eames would go weak at the knees because, boy, you were something out of his dreams.

“Eames.” Cobb’s voice echoed through the walkie-talkie, snapping him out of his trance. He refocused his eyes and picked up the device, “it’s over.”

And just like that, he was brought back down to earth. There would never be any chance of seeing you again. There would be nothing left of him; and he would never be able to forgive himself if he knew that he couldn’t see you. He’d have to live with the guilt that he could have seen you, but gambled it away.

All he needed was the money from this job for a flight. And he was this close; he wasn’t about to lose you again.

“No.” He voiced, simply. “I can’t have that.” He cried, rushing towards the building, tears threatening to spill. 

“Get to the entry chamber now!” Ariadne’s voice echoed through the snow. He got to Fischer, beginning to revive him before the two other members came trudging in.

“What the hell happened?” He stammered, his eyebrows forming a straight line on his face. It was a face you often told Eames to stop, because it made him look intimidating and scary.

“Mal killed Fischer.” Cobb replied, “I couldn’t kill her. It’s all over.” 

And just like that, Eames felt his heart break in two. His face felt numb as it turned to a neutral expression, and he could feel his eyes clouding. Though he couldn’t be angry at Dom for what he’d done; since he knew what it was like to lose someone he loved. Though not to quite the extent, he too knew heartbreak and the implications of dreaming. It was Eames’ only way of seeing you, too.

“So that’s it, then? We failed?” His voice cracked, as much as he hated it. Dom nodded, the two of them looking at each other with solemn eyes. They both knew what was on the line for this mission. 

Though from the outside you’d never know it, Eames and Dom had an unspoken connection. Whether it was because they’d both been through such traumatic heart breaks, or because they were both fairly narcissistic, no one really knew. But they could both see the life falling from each others eyes as he said those two words, “we’re done.”

“There has to be another way,” Ariadne contemplated as the two men looked at each other dubiously, “we’ll follow him down there.” She pointed to Fischer’s lifeless body next to them.

And no matter how many times they thought of a flaw in her plan; she found a way to make it work. Eames just looked at his old friend, and muttered the words, “we’re already at rock bottom so we might as well try.” 

And so they followed Fischer down there and synchronised the kicks, before riding them all up back to the first level, where Eames continued his ploy of Uncle Peter. Having this much adrenaline, and this much to think about all at once almost made him forget about you. Almost.

The awakening on the plane was almost like an awakening of Eames’ mind, which had been clouded by grief for these past years. He rubbed his eyes, looking around the first class cabin in disbelief; shocked that they’d made the impossible possible.

He looked around, noticing Ariadne’s eyes, still groggy from her first extraction, but bright from hope and what she had just experienced. Arthur was already sat forward, waiting on Cobb and Saito, who had just awoken. 

It was good news. The smile on Cobb’s face, and Saito’s bewildered eyes said it all; it was a success. 

He was coming back to you, and his eyes lit up like yours always did on Christmas morning. The pit of his stomach was swarming with butterflies; because this was the moment he knew he was going to see you again.

“St James’ Hospital, wing seven.” Arthur whispered as he passed the man at the baggage claim. Eames looked at the man with a confused expression. Arthur turned back and gave the man an earnest smile.

And all those years of snarky comments and insults died down, and as Eames nodded to Cobb as he walked out, he felt a weight lift off of his shoulders. All those years grieving in bars and pubs seemed to have been years ago; he was him old self again.

Thanks to you.  

The flight back to his home country couldn’t go fast enough, and he was itching to get off as soon as he got on. He could barely sleep, his knees knocking and fingers tapping in anticipation in the thought of seeing you. 

It was something Eames had only dreamt about for so long, and the thought of seeing you in flesh was almost overwhelming. 

What if you’d changed? Gotten taller? Maturer? Wore different lipstick? What if he didn’t even recognise you?

These thoughts didn’t leave until he was outside St James’ Hospital, a taxi ride from the airport. He fiddled with his fingers as he walked through the open entrance and towards the receptionist.

“(Y/F/N) (Y/L/N),” he spoke to the grey haired man, “am I able to visit her?” 

The man looked at Eames, who was wearing his trusty suit that probably didn’t even fit anymore. It was too tight and too loose in the wrong places and it had a coffee stain on the left lapel. But it was the suit you picked out for him for your parents wedding anniversary dinner, and it was his favourite. 

He was shown up several flights of stairs and along god knows how many white corridors. Eames already knew he’d get lost whilst trying to find his was out eventually, since they seemed to be walking for miles on end.

Until they came to your door. Your name was written in block capitals, and a rota of different nurses who checked up on you was hung on a clipboard. 

He felt sick.

And as the man opened the door that lead to you, Eames’ stomach lurched; his heart dropped and his breathing became heavier; his eyes grew wide and it was as though he had lost all co-ordination of his limbs.

And when he saw you, in the flesh, he almost froze. His fingers stopped fiddling, and he caught his breath whilst looking at your figure in the hospital bed.

You were far more beautiful than he remembered. 

You were perfect. More perfect than any phosphene he had seen when he closed his eyes. More perfect than any of his dreams where he had imagined this moment for years. More perfect than he could remember, from warped memories that he tried to block out whilst he was grieving.

You were the prettiest colour he had ever seen; the loveliest flower in any garden; the brightest star in all of the universe.

And, just like that, he fell in love with you all over again.

Despite being shocked at his sudden appearance, you were more concerned about the fact that he could see the photo you kept beside your bed; one of you and him in front of the Eiffel Tower, on your anniversary.

The truth was; you broke up with Eames because he deserved a better life. And although you were almost better; you didn’t want to know about him. Purely because you couldn’t face it if he had moved onto someone new, and you didn’t want to know what could have been. 

“(Y/N)...” he breathed.

“Eames,” you smiled, still in disbelief that the man stood beside your bed was real. Not just one you’d dreamt up in countless day dreams and hopeful scenarios of parallel universes where you didn’t get sick, “what are you doing here?” You asked, your eyes welling up with tears and making your vision go blurry.

“I need you,” he muttered, crouching down and taking your hand in his, “I don’t care if I have to sit next to a hospital bed for eternity, (Y/N),” he begun, “I don’t care where I am in the world or what I’m doing. All I need is you beside me.”

You choked back a sob as he kissed your fingertips, “are you real?” You laughed, using your other hand to run your fingers through his hair, “I’ve only dreamt of you, it’s hard to know. Even if you are a figment of my imagination, Eames, you’re perfect.”

He laughed, pulling out his poker chip; his token. It defeated the point, but he knew that if he had you he was in the right dream for him. He wasn’t going back to doing jobs for dreams, and he certainly wasn’t going back to gambling.

He was going back to his reality; the one with you. 

“And even if you're just a figment of my imagination, thats not going to stop me from waiting for you.” 

[ariadne-mouse]

You know what? Arthur would love Argentine tango.

Edit: I started this as a silly 3-sentence blurb and it got away from me like a runaway freight train and turned into an essay.  Who am I to deny the plotbunny when it bites so viciously?  

I know fandom likes Ballet!Arthur.  I enjoy him too, but I’m holding a candle for Argentine tango - not as an AU where Arthur’s a professional dancer, just as something mostlycanon!Arthur does in his spare time.  Argentine tango is so precise, nuanced, elegant, passionate.  I’m not thinking of the hyper-sexualized or garish choreography found in movies and dance reality television, although those are tango too, I’m thinking of this kind of tango, or this, or this, or this (okay I had fun exploring tango videos...). The Argentine tango where a performance is an elevated version of what’s possible on the social dance floor.  Literally thinking quickly on your feet, a combination of control and improvisation and a little drama, like when Arthur blows up an elevator to make a kick in the Fischer job.  Also, Arthur absolutely slays in formal menswear and that is common attire for tango (depending on the venue of course).

He would naturally excel at the roles of both leader and follower. Dancing as a leader, he’d relish making the plan and calling the shots with perfect signalling to his partner, and as a follower he’d relish not having to plan but instead executing the leader’s suggestions perfectly, showing off excellent technique and balance, and adding a little creative flare.  He’d probably spend an evening on the dance floor changing roles as fancy took him.  

Arthur would be surrounded by a group of friends in each tango community who don’t know anything about dreamshare or what Arthur does for a living, they just know he travels a lot and are always happy to see him when he comes through.  They complain he’s never there and give him shit about it and push drinks into his hands and keep him out far too late and smoke too many cigarettes and offer him places to stay. (Arthur, you’re back! -- Join us, you idiot, where have you been! -- Have a drink -- We never see you -- do you still drink whiskey? -- It’s been over a year! You still owe me a dance, you thief -- Let the man sit down for god’s sake -- Why sit when you can dance? You agree with me don’t you Arthur).  These little pockets of community around the world are stashed in Arthur’s mind like safe houses.  

And of course, Arthur used to dance with Mal.  Maybe they went to clubs or studios on occasion, but more likely it was in the cramped kitchen in the Cobbs’ old apartment, bumping into countertops and accidentally kicking the fridge and drinking a little too much wine and laughing until they have to stop or fall over. They try to lure Dom into learning but he never quite takes to it, though he can’t keep a smile off his face either.

Naturally Arthur doesn’t mention tango while he’s at work - not that he wouldn’t if it was unavoidably relevant for a job, but it hasn’t been yet.  Arthur prefers this, since his enjoyment of tango is wrapped up in emotional vulnerability and he has a reputation to uphold, dammit.  Dom also doesn’t mention it, more out of inattention, especially after he becomes so maniacally focused on dreamshare and inception.  (Side note - Dom’s malevolent projection of Mal can’t dance because he can’t either.)

Now we get to the Eames part of this plotbunny.  Specifically, that Eames doesn’t know a thing about his part of Arthur’s life (yet).  Maybe he’s heard distant music while sharing Arthur’s subconscious for a job, or seen a pair of projections dancing and been bemused. But on the whole, oblivious.

So imagine this: Eames is between jobs and bored, or perhaps trying to track Arthur down to join a team.  In either case he’s asking dreamshare contacts about Arthur’s international whereabouts and gets an answer he doesn’t expect:

---

“I heard he’s in Buenos Aires.”

“A job?”

“He didn’t say.”

Eames has the plane ticket booked before he’s really thought about it.  It’s been ages since he’s been to South America, anyway.

---

Cue Eames seeing Arthur in his element on a crowded social dance floor at a tango club in Buenos Aires, a bit sweaty, very skilled (read: hot), being heckled by good-natured friends, and clearly enjoying himself in an un-selfconscious way Eames rarely sees.

Bonus points if Eames knows a bit of tango himself - I wouldn’t put it past him, though he probably prefers Lindy hop - and announces his presence by sidling up to Arthur and asking him to dance.

Or, perhaps he suddenly feels like an intruder in Arthur’s private world, and leaves without being noticed.  Of course he then learns the dance himself, and leverages this at a later date.  Maybe in a dreamshare, or another club - but definitely with Arthur.

Fwew.  Okay, I think I got it all out.

[mosaicabstract]

arthur and eames calling each other from halfway across the world! (can be established relationship or not idrc)

(this is REALLY BAD but it’s something soooo)

*

After the third ring, Arthur is ready to hang up. He isn’t quite sure what possessed him to call in the first place -- naivety, maybe. Or just impulse. Eames always incites a certain level of primal impulse in him. And he knows this isn’t safe. In fact, this might take the cake for the dumbest thing he’s done in the last six months (and that’s really saying something, considering he’s currently living in a shithole in Siberia due to circumstances that are entirely his own fault).

He moves his thumb toward the ‘end call’ button on the burner phone, and just when he’s about to press down there’s a click on the other line, and the shuffle of indistinct movement.

“‘Lo?” the voice on the other end of the line says. It’s more of a grunt than a word. Of course it’s still night in London, and Arthur knows this. But he’s never given much care to disrupting Eames’s sleeping habits, so why start now?

“This is stupid,” Arthur replies, because it is.

There’s silence for at least ten seconds, all of which Arthur spends staring harshly down at the grimy tile floor below his bare feet. The lack of response begins to fester in his mind and Arthur realizes, of course, Eames is furious with him. They’ve always had a very comprehensive plan if something like this happened to one of them, only sometimes plans have to get tossed to the wind when things go unexpectedly. And what happened the previous month in Lusaka was -- to say the absolute least -- unexpected. (How was Arthur supposed to know that Samir would betray him? Besides the fact that it’s his job to know these things, he’s human, and some people are smart enough to play ball in the same league as him. So when Samir led Arthur straight into a trap with the syndicate that’s been hunting him for months? Well… he had to act fast and carelessly to make it out of there alive).

“Eames, I--” Arthur starts.

“Where are you?” Eames suddenly sounds alert. Arthur can hear the mattress springs crunch in the background, and that one pesky creaky floorboard groan under his feet.

“You know it isn’t safe for me to say,” Arthur says. “I would have called earlier, except I shouldn’t even be calling now…”

“Arthur,” Eames breathes Arthur’s name and there’s a quiver to it, and it gives Arthur pause.

“What?”

Another pause, then --

“You’re alive.”

The words are muffled, like Eames is pressing his mouth to something, possibly his hand. Regardless, they splinter into Arthur’s chest in staccato jabs. Oh.

He’d spent the last month so disconnected from human contact in order to keep himself and everyone he loves safe, that never for a minute did he think that somehow word wouldn’t get out that he escaped with his life. Someone, somewhere, must have lied.

“I am.” Arthur pads over to a chair at the small kitchen table and leans against it with the hand not holding the phone. “I made it out. Somehow. It was messy.”

There’s silence again, and it seems to draw on even longer this time. Eames’s breathing on the other end is uneven. Arthur feels guilt rising in his throat like bile. I should have called sooner.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly. “Eames, I’m so sorry. If I’d known… I would have called. I should have called.” Pursing his lips, he adds: “I just wanted to keep you safe and out of this nightmare.”

“Where are you?” Eames asks again, slightly more urgently.

“You know I can’t tell you. Obviously if I could, I already would have. These guys… Fu’s guys… they’re out of control. Completely unstable and dangerous.”

And then Arthur hears a noise that it takes a moment for his brain to register for what it is: laughter. Laughter. It’s light and airy and relieved and it knocks Arthur off-guard so much he shifts the phone to his other ear just to make sure he’s really hearing it.

“What the fuck,” he says.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Arthur, are you having a laugh? I thought you were dead. Do you really think they’re still out there looking for you? Any of them?”

Arthur sinks into the kitchen chair and blinks at the grease stains on the wall opposite him.

“Oh.”

“Did you really think… oh bloody fucking hell, Arthur, come home, you absolute git.”

“A git that’s still breathing,” Arthur reminds him, already rushing to shovel all of his belongings into his rucksack.

“Yes,” Eames sighs, sounding like he’s just run a marathon and a half. “Still breathing.”