A Favor Amongst Friends, Covert Affairs/Inception Fanfic
TITLE: A Favor Amongst Friends
RATING: PG
WORD COUNT: ~790
CHARACTERS: Auggie, Eames (vague allusions to Arthur/Eames)
WARNINGS: Some language. Memories of past violence (Auggie's canon). Arthur in peril.
SUMMARY: An old friend asks Auggie for a favor.
AO3 Link | Master Fic List
Disclaimer: I own neither Auggie nor Eames, no matter how much I may wish to...
Author's Notes: I totally forgot this was even in my notebook until I was flipping through it last night. Just a little something I jotted down a few months ago (September!) while I was half asleep.
It can be Gen but you can read Arthur/Eames into it if you want (because Arthur/Eames is always in my head...).
Brief spoilers for 2x07 - Half a World Away.
-----------------------------
Auggie froze just inside the door of his apartment, well aware the space wasn’t as empty as it was supposed to be. An involuntary smile teased at his lips as he heard the other occupant shift.
“Mr. Eames,” Auggie said as his body relaxed.
“You never fail to impress, Auggie,” a familiar voice came from across the room. “I even changed my cologne for you.”
Auggie snorted as he pulled his bag over his head and set it in the nearest chair. “You’ve never worn cologne. It’s part of your charm.” Eames laughed as Auggie heard him step closer. Back to wearing suits, it seemed; Auggie could hear the rustle of fine fabric. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” Auggie asked as he moved into the kitchen. He opened the fridge door to pull out two bottles of beer.
“You remember that favor you owe me for Berlin?”
Auggie laughed as he held out a bottle to Eames. “You mean the one I repaid last year when I convinced the entire Rome office to look the other way?”
“Darling, you know you did that for your own amusement,” Eames replied. His fingers were warm where they brushed against Auggie’s to take the beer.
Auggie merely smiled and shook his head ruefully. “Just tell me what you need, Eames. You avoid D.C. like you owe the entire city money.”
“Only half,” Eames said defensively. “I need an extraction...for Arthur.”
Auggie quickly set his own bottle down. “Arthur’s a rogue operative...”
“So am I,” the former MI6 operative argued.
“For a foreign government. Arthur was one of ours. If the Agency gets its hands on him...”
“It’s been nearly a decade, Auggie,” Eames cut in quickly. “Anyone who would remember him is dead or on a boring desk somewhere.” Eames wasn’t even exaggerating. Arthur had been so classified barely a dozen people had even heard of him. There weren’t many left who could positively identify him. “You owe him, Anderson,” Eames said firmly, stepping in close. “Whatever debts you’ve repaid me, you owe him.”
The last recorded whereabouts of the rogue operative referred to solely as ‘Arthur’ were at a U.S. Army field hospital in Iraq in 2007. His voice had been familiar and the only thing Auggie had been able to cling to in those first few terrifying hours after the explosion. Arthur had been his lifeline once.
“Where is he?” Auggie asked quietly. He heard the soft exhale of relief that came from Eames.
“There’s an arms dealer...in Syria.”
“Christ Eames,” Auggie muttered. “Are you sure he’s even still alive?” It was a harsh thing to ask and Auggie knew it; but it was something that definitely needed asking.
“It’s doubtful he’s given them what they want - they won’t kill him until they have it,” Eames answered steadily. Auggie didn’t bother asking what it was they wanted. He honestly didn’t want to know.
“I’ve still got a few people on that side of the world who owe me favors,” Auggie said slowly. “I’ll deny everything if Arthur’s made, though.”
“Sure you will, darling,” Eames said. Auggie could hear the smile in the other man’s voice.
---
Three a.m. two days later an encrypted voicemail came to Auggie’s phone: “Package received. Bourbon expected.” Auggie smiled to himself and saw to it that the Bourbon made it to the proper place.
Almost exactly twelve hours later, Auggie’s desk phone rang.
“If you ever feel like taking a vacation in Mombasa...” Eames began.
Auggie smiled. “Yusuf would have me poisoned within twenty-four hours,” he said. “How did my favor work out?”
Eames took a deep breath at the other end of the line. “Our friend’s safe...and mostly sound,” he said eventually. “A few days on the beach and he’ll be good as new. I’m sure we’ll be in your debt for a very long time.”
“You owe me a bottle of top-shelf Bourbon, at the very least,” Auggie told him.
“Next time I’m in D.C.,” Eames said; Auggie could hear the grin in his voice and he laughed at his old friend.
“I won’t hold my breath, then. Stay out of a trouble for awhile?”
“Of course, darling. Precaution is my middle name, you know.”
“Does that come before or after Jackass?”
“I’ll have to check my passport. Look us up if you’re ever in the neighborhood, yeah?”
“Count on it. I’m sure it’s the only way I’ll get that Bourbon.” Auggie ended the call before Eames could argue further.
“I thought you hated Bourbon,” Annie said as she strode into his office.
“Bargaining chip between old friends,” Auggie said as he carefully cleared his call history. “What can I do for the lovely Miss Walker today?”
/end
RATING: PG
WORD COUNT: ~790
CHARACTERS: Auggie, Eames (vague allusions to Arthur/Eames)
WARNINGS: Some language. Memories of past violence (Auggie's canon). Arthur in peril.
SUMMARY: An old friend asks Auggie for a favor.
AO3 Link | Master Fic List
Disclaimer: I own neither Auggie nor Eames, no matter how much I may wish to...
Author's Notes: I totally forgot this was even in my notebook until I was flipping through it last night. Just a little something I jotted down a few months ago (September!) while I was half asleep.
It can be Gen but you can read Arthur/Eames into it if you want (because Arthur/Eames is always in my head...).
Brief spoilers for 2x07 - Half a World Away.
-----------------------------
Auggie froze just inside the door of his apartment, well aware the space wasn’t as empty as it was supposed to be. An involuntary smile teased at his lips as he heard the other occupant shift.
“Mr. Eames,” Auggie said as his body relaxed.
“You never fail to impress, Auggie,” a familiar voice came from across the room. “I even changed my cologne for you.”
Auggie snorted as he pulled his bag over his head and set it in the nearest chair. “You’ve never worn cologne. It’s part of your charm.” Eames laughed as Auggie heard him step closer. Back to wearing suits, it seemed; Auggie could hear the rustle of fine fabric. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” Auggie asked as he moved into the kitchen. He opened the fridge door to pull out two bottles of beer.
“You remember that favor you owe me for Berlin?”
Auggie laughed as he held out a bottle to Eames. “You mean the one I repaid last year when I convinced the entire Rome office to look the other way?”
“Darling, you know you did that for your own amusement,” Eames replied. His fingers were warm where they brushed against Auggie’s to take the beer.
Auggie merely smiled and shook his head ruefully. “Just tell me what you need, Eames. You avoid D.C. like you owe the entire city money.”
“Only half,” Eames said defensively. “I need an extraction...for Arthur.”
Auggie quickly set his own bottle down. “Arthur’s a rogue operative...”
“So am I,” the former MI6 operative argued.
“For a foreign government. Arthur was one of ours. If the Agency gets its hands on him...”
“It’s been nearly a decade, Auggie,” Eames cut in quickly. “Anyone who would remember him is dead or on a boring desk somewhere.” Eames wasn’t even exaggerating. Arthur had been so classified barely a dozen people had even heard of him. There weren’t many left who could positively identify him. “You owe him, Anderson,” Eames said firmly, stepping in close. “Whatever debts you’ve repaid me, you owe him.”
The last recorded whereabouts of the rogue operative referred to solely as ‘Arthur’ were at a U.S. Army field hospital in Iraq in 2007. His voice had been familiar and the only thing Auggie had been able to cling to in those first few terrifying hours after the explosion. Arthur had been his lifeline once.
“Where is he?” Auggie asked quietly. He heard the soft exhale of relief that came from Eames.
“There’s an arms dealer...in Syria.”
“Christ Eames,” Auggie muttered. “Are you sure he’s even still alive?” It was a harsh thing to ask and Auggie knew it; but it was something that definitely needed asking.
“It’s doubtful he’s given them what they want - they won’t kill him until they have it,” Eames answered steadily. Auggie didn’t bother asking what it was they wanted. He honestly didn’t want to know.
“I’ve still got a few people on that side of the world who owe me favors,” Auggie said slowly. “I’ll deny everything if Arthur’s made, though.”
“Sure you will, darling,” Eames said. Auggie could hear the smile in the other man’s voice.
---
Three a.m. two days later an encrypted voicemail came to Auggie’s phone: “Package received. Bourbon expected.” Auggie smiled to himself and saw to it that the Bourbon made it to the proper place.
Almost exactly twelve hours later, Auggie’s desk phone rang.
“If you ever feel like taking a vacation in Mombasa...” Eames began.
Auggie smiled. “Yusuf would have me poisoned within twenty-four hours,” he said. “How did my favor work out?”
Eames took a deep breath at the other end of the line. “Our friend’s safe...and mostly sound,” he said eventually. “A few days on the beach and he’ll be good as new. I’m sure we’ll be in your debt for a very long time.”
“You owe me a bottle of top-shelf Bourbon, at the very least,” Auggie told him.
“Next time I’m in D.C.,” Eames said; Auggie could hear the grin in his voice and he laughed at his old friend.
“I won’t hold my breath, then. Stay out of a trouble for awhile?”
“Of course, darling. Precaution is my middle name, you know.”
“Does that come before or after Jackass?”
“I’ll have to check my passport. Look us up if you’re ever in the neighborhood, yeah?”
“Count on it. I’m sure it’s the only way I’ll get that Bourbon.” Auggie ended the call before Eames could argue further.
“I thought you hated Bourbon,” Annie said as she strode into his office.
“Bargaining chip between old friends,” Auggie said as he carefully cleared his call history. “What can I do for the lovely Miss Walker today?”
/end