Fic: misc Arthur/Eames vignettes
More Arthur/Eames ficlets inspired by the trope meme here.
1. Genderswap: girl Eames with male Arthur
"Don't you want to see them?" Eames asks, leaning against the drafting table Arthur is currently bent over.
"Not really," Arthur replies, sounding bored.
"It's a very simple matter for me to take them out," Eames says as he--well, she now--begins to undo the buttons on her shirt. "The bra has a front clasp that's easy enough to undo."
"Uh huh," Arthur replies, but he doesn't even look up, the wanker.
"They're a marvelous set of tits," Eames says cupping them in her hands firmly, waiting for the slightest sign of interest. "Really. You could feel them, if you'd like."
"I'm good," Arthur says, and Eames resists the urge to pout.
"Seriously, Arthur?" Eames asks, and maybe some of the exasperation bleeds through because Arthur finally drags his gaze up and gives Eames' breasts (which are exceptional, by the way) a perfunctory once over.
"They're great," Arthur intones flatly, before returning to his work.
"You, sir, are a philistine," Eames says as she spins on her heel and leaves in pursuit of someone more properly appreciative.
2. Double genderswap: AlwaysAGirl!Arthur and AlwaysAGirl!Eames
"I don't like her," Arthur says.
"You don't say," Cobb replies dryly.
"No, I'm serious," Arthur insists, glancing over at where Eames is doing something that looks suspiciously like preening in the mirror, tossing her bobbed hair and smiling flirtatiously. "She's overconfident, argumentative, and bound to get us all kicked out of the dream with her... party tricks."
"Well, that's the first time I've ever heard anyone describe forging as a party trick," Cobb says, but halfway through the sentence his voice changes in register to something higher, accompanied by an infuriating British accent. Before Eames can finish changing from Cobb's body into her own, Arthur shoots herself out of the dream.
When she wakes up, Cobb--the real Cobb--is standing above her with his arms folded. "Impressive, right?"
"You," Arthur points at him, "are an asshole. And she," Arthur points at Eames, who is just beginning to wake up, "is a freak. I don't care how useful 'forging' theoretically could be--there is no way I'm working with her."
"Touchy touchy," Eames says to Cobb while Arthur stomps away. "Don't worry, darling, she'll come around. The doubters always do."
3. Bodyswap
"So this is weird," Arthur says, staring down at his hands, which are technically--
"Those are my hands," Eames says in Arthur's voice. It's jarring, because even though Arthur's seen and heard Eames forge Arthur in dreams more than once, Eames always takes on an American accent to complete the costume. Details are the mark of a professional, Eames had claimed. But here and now, Eames is speaking with Arthur's voice, in Arthur's body--all with a British accent. Weird.
"I'm guessing this is the 'hilarious' side effect that Jacinda was talking about," Arthur says, balling Eames' hands into fists and then releasing them again. They feel different, strange--more light and dexterous despite being slightly thicker than Arthur's own hands. Hands of a pickpocket, Arthur supposes. "Bodyswapping."
"So it would seem," Eames says as he begins undoing his belt.
"Uh," Arthur says as Eames begins to unzip his pants. "What are you doing?"
"What does it look like?" Eames asks as he drops his pants to the floor and then pushes down his underwear (Arthur's usual briefs, down to the custom stitching and breathable grey organic cotton). "I'm examining the goods."
"Examining the--" Arthur stops, appalled, as Eames picks up his (Arthur's!) flacid cock and begins studying it like a lab specimen. "That's my dick!"
"Indeed it is," Eames says as he feels up his testicles thoughtfully with one hand. "I understand circumcision is standard in the US, but I must admit to finding it fascinating every time I see a cut dick."
"This is--I don't--" Arthur sputters while Eames continues to fondle himself without compunction. "Why the hell are you touching my cock and balls?"
"May as well take the opportunity when it presents itself," Eames says, sounding nearly philosophical about it. "I do strive for as much accuracy as possible in my work."
"If you were concerned about accuracy, you could have just asked," Arthur says, irritated by everything that's happening in this situation--including the fact that his crotch isn't nearly as well groomed as he'd like it to be now that he can see it from this angle.
That stops Eames. "Is that right?"
"I know it's crazy, but sometimes all it takes is a politely worded request," Arthur says, glancing instinctively upwards when he hears the music cue begin to play.
Now it's Eames' turn to be caught flatfooted. "Now hold a moment," Eames starts, abandoning his dick.
"See you topside, Mr. Eames," Arthur says as he materializes a gun in his hand and brings it up to his temple.
4. Accidental-baby-acquisition
"Is it alive, d'ya think?" Eames asks.
"How the hell should I know?" Arthur nudges the blanket-wrapped bundle with his foot and feels it squirm a little. "I think it moved."
"Damn," Eames says, glancing out the window. "We have to go. They'll be on us soon."
"Alright, well, grab the baby and let's get on it," Arthur says, readying his gun.
"Me? Why should I be the one to take it? You're the one that found it."
"We do not have time for this," Arthur says, and takes a quick look out the window as well. "Damnit. Alright, rocks, paper, scissors it is."
"No cheating," Eames says warningly, and Arthur has to suppress a laugh at that.
Arthur loses, of course, (because Eames is a cheating bastard) and ends up running out of the building with baby in one arm, gun in the other.
5. HS/College
"I feel as though I've stepped into a John Hughes movie," Eames says, because it's true: they're standing in a long hallway lined by lockers and classroom doors. There are rows of desks pitted with pencil marks and etchings on one side, defaced with multi-colored gum on the other. He can even smell chalk dust in the air.
"Look, can you just--work with me here instead of stopping for color commentary every thirty seconds?" Arthur asks. He sounds only marginally more flustered than usual, but the tips of his ears are red and that gives Eames pause.
"This isn't where you went to school, is it?" Eames asks quietly. "This is a composite."
"You know I never dream exactly from reality," Arthur says, which is a bald-faced lie. "Too easy to lose track of which is which."
"Hey, Arthur," a couple of pretty girls in short uniforms--cheerleaders, Eames' database of American school systems knowledge supplies--wave as they pass by. Another teenager, jaw too sculpted and body too developed to be based on anything but a movie star, punches Arthur lightly on the shoulder as he passes with a pearly-white grin.
"This isn't," Eames starts, but Arthur cuts him off.
"Fine, you caught me, alright?" Arthur looks down at the ground, jaw clenching. "I never went to this school, I never knew these people. This is all--it might as well be a movie."
"Darling." Eames reaches out to adjust the white lapels of Arthur's dress shirt underneath his grey pullover, polishes the round pin that proclaims, 'Arthur for class president!' "There's nothing wrong with a little fantasy. Teacher-student is very common. Or perhaps bending over the captain of some sporting team or another?"
"This isn't really about sex." Arthur closes his eyes and sighs. "Which makes it even more embarrassing to talk about."
Eames thinks back to the way he'd felt as a teenager: awkward, gangly, desperate for approval, desperate to be liked. The transformation takes little more than a thought, and he guides Arthur's hand to his forged cheek: clean-shaven, curves more filled with baby fat, skin only slightly pocked with acne. "I can listen."
Arthur opens his eyes, but doesn't look up. "My mother was a born-again Christian who worried that the public school system would contaminate my mind with blasphemous ideas. So she home-schooled me. I spent years learning how to read biblical passages and not much else."
"All I know about American schools is what I've seen in the movies as well."
Arthur finally looks up at Eames, eyes scanning over his face for any sign of mocking or cruelty. "Is this really what you looked like?"
"Disappointed?"
"You were gorgeous," Arthur says simply. "But I like you better now."
1. Genderswap: girl Eames with male Arthur
"Don't you want to see them?" Eames asks, leaning against the drafting table Arthur is currently bent over.
"Not really," Arthur replies, sounding bored.
"It's a very simple matter for me to take them out," Eames says as he--well, she now--begins to undo the buttons on her shirt. "The bra has a front clasp that's easy enough to undo."
"Uh huh," Arthur replies, but he doesn't even look up, the wanker.
"They're a marvelous set of tits," Eames says cupping them in her hands firmly, waiting for the slightest sign of interest. "Really. You could feel them, if you'd like."
"I'm good," Arthur says, and Eames resists the urge to pout.
"Seriously, Arthur?" Eames asks, and maybe some of the exasperation bleeds through because Arthur finally drags his gaze up and gives Eames' breasts (which are exceptional, by the way) a perfunctory once over.
"They're great," Arthur intones flatly, before returning to his work.
"You, sir, are a philistine," Eames says as she spins on her heel and leaves in pursuit of someone more properly appreciative.
2. Double genderswap: AlwaysAGirl!Arthur and AlwaysAGirl!Eames
"I don't like her," Arthur says.
"You don't say," Cobb replies dryly.
"No, I'm serious," Arthur insists, glancing over at where Eames is doing something that looks suspiciously like preening in the mirror, tossing her bobbed hair and smiling flirtatiously. "She's overconfident, argumentative, and bound to get us all kicked out of the dream with her... party tricks."
"Well, that's the first time I've ever heard anyone describe forging as a party trick," Cobb says, but halfway through the sentence his voice changes in register to something higher, accompanied by an infuriating British accent. Before Eames can finish changing from Cobb's body into her own, Arthur shoots herself out of the dream.
When she wakes up, Cobb--the real Cobb--is standing above her with his arms folded. "Impressive, right?"
"You," Arthur points at him, "are an asshole. And she," Arthur points at Eames, who is just beginning to wake up, "is a freak. I don't care how useful 'forging' theoretically could be--there is no way I'm working with her."
"Touchy touchy," Eames says to Cobb while Arthur stomps away. "Don't worry, darling, she'll come around. The doubters always do."
3. Bodyswap
"So this is weird," Arthur says, staring down at his hands, which are technically--
"Those are my hands," Eames says in Arthur's voice. It's jarring, because even though Arthur's seen and heard Eames forge Arthur in dreams more than once, Eames always takes on an American accent to complete the costume. Details are the mark of a professional, Eames had claimed. But here and now, Eames is speaking with Arthur's voice, in Arthur's body--all with a British accent. Weird.
"I'm guessing this is the 'hilarious' side effect that Jacinda was talking about," Arthur says, balling Eames' hands into fists and then releasing them again. They feel different, strange--more light and dexterous despite being slightly thicker than Arthur's own hands. Hands of a pickpocket, Arthur supposes. "Bodyswapping."
"So it would seem," Eames says as he begins undoing his belt.
"Uh," Arthur says as Eames begins to unzip his pants. "What are you doing?"
"What does it look like?" Eames asks as he drops his pants to the floor and then pushes down his underwear (Arthur's usual briefs, down to the custom stitching and breathable grey organic cotton). "I'm examining the goods."
"Examining the--" Arthur stops, appalled, as Eames picks up his (Arthur's!) flacid cock and begins studying it like a lab specimen. "That's my dick!"
"Indeed it is," Eames says as he feels up his testicles thoughtfully with one hand. "I understand circumcision is standard in the US, but I must admit to finding it fascinating every time I see a cut dick."
"This is--I don't--" Arthur sputters while Eames continues to fondle himself without compunction. "Why the hell are you touching my cock and balls?"
"May as well take the opportunity when it presents itself," Eames says, sounding nearly philosophical about it. "I do strive for as much accuracy as possible in my work."
"If you were concerned about accuracy, you could have just asked," Arthur says, irritated by everything that's happening in this situation--including the fact that his crotch isn't nearly as well groomed as he'd like it to be now that he can see it from this angle.
That stops Eames. "Is that right?"
"I know it's crazy, but sometimes all it takes is a politely worded request," Arthur says, glancing instinctively upwards when he hears the music cue begin to play.
Now it's Eames' turn to be caught flatfooted. "Now hold a moment," Eames starts, abandoning his dick.
"See you topside, Mr. Eames," Arthur says as he materializes a gun in his hand and brings it up to his temple.
4. Accidental-baby-acquisition
"Is it alive, d'ya think?" Eames asks.
"How the hell should I know?" Arthur nudges the blanket-wrapped bundle with his foot and feels it squirm a little. "I think it moved."
"Damn," Eames says, glancing out the window. "We have to go. They'll be on us soon."
"Alright, well, grab the baby and let's get on it," Arthur says, readying his gun.
"Me? Why should I be the one to take it? You're the one that found it."
"We do not have time for this," Arthur says, and takes a quick look out the window as well. "Damnit. Alright, rocks, paper, scissors it is."
"No cheating," Eames says warningly, and Arthur has to suppress a laugh at that.
Arthur loses, of course, (because Eames is a cheating bastard) and ends up running out of the building with baby in one arm, gun in the other.
5. HS/College
"I feel as though I've stepped into a John Hughes movie," Eames says, because it's true: they're standing in a long hallway lined by lockers and classroom doors. There are rows of desks pitted with pencil marks and etchings on one side, defaced with multi-colored gum on the other. He can even smell chalk dust in the air.
"Look, can you just--work with me here instead of stopping for color commentary every thirty seconds?" Arthur asks. He sounds only marginally more flustered than usual, but the tips of his ears are red and that gives Eames pause.
"This isn't where you went to school, is it?" Eames asks quietly. "This is a composite."
"You know I never dream exactly from reality," Arthur says, which is a bald-faced lie. "Too easy to lose track of which is which."
"Hey, Arthur," a couple of pretty girls in short uniforms--cheerleaders, Eames' database of American school systems knowledge supplies--wave as they pass by. Another teenager, jaw too sculpted and body too developed to be based on anything but a movie star, punches Arthur lightly on the shoulder as he passes with a pearly-white grin.
"This isn't," Eames starts, but Arthur cuts him off.
"Fine, you caught me, alright?" Arthur looks down at the ground, jaw clenching. "I never went to this school, I never knew these people. This is all--it might as well be a movie."
"Darling." Eames reaches out to adjust the white lapels of Arthur's dress shirt underneath his grey pullover, polishes the round pin that proclaims, 'Arthur for class president!' "There's nothing wrong with a little fantasy. Teacher-student is very common. Or perhaps bending over the captain of some sporting team or another?"
"This isn't really about sex." Arthur closes his eyes and sighs. "Which makes it even more embarrassing to talk about."
Eames thinks back to the way he'd felt as a teenager: awkward, gangly, desperate for approval, desperate to be liked. The transformation takes little more than a thought, and he guides Arthur's hand to his forged cheek: clean-shaven, curves more filled with baby fat, skin only slightly pocked with acne. "I can listen."
Arthur opens his eyes, but doesn't look up. "My mother was a born-again Christian who worried that the public school system would contaminate my mind with blasphemous ideas. So she home-schooled me. I spent years learning how to read biblical passages and not much else."
"All I know about American schools is what I've seen in the movies as well."
Arthur finally looks up at Eames, eyes scanning over his face for any sign of mocking or cruelty. "Is this really what you looked like?"
"Disappointed?"
"You were gorgeous," Arthur says simply. "But I like you better now."