Inception Fanfic: Smoking and Seafood
Title: Smoking and Seafood
Pairing: Hints of Arthur/Cobb and Ariadne/Eames
Rating: PG
Summary: Arthur is allergic to everything in the world, and also dorian_mauve thinks smoking is sexy. It all started here.
Allergies are not all that uncommon. Most people have something that will set them off, whether it’s certain time of year or the family pet, and for the most part it’s not hard to avoid whatever makes your nose run or your skin break out in an itchy rash. Most people’s allergies were mild, and their causes were few and far between.
Arthur was not that lucky. He stared down drearily at the pavement, dark and wet from the falling rain. It was only a little past seven p.m. and in Santa Monica, the sun would have still been setting over the ocean, had it not been obscured by the persistent June gloom clouds. There were still people about, of course. This was the part of town that was too high-class to allow the weather to dictate its schedule, and women in lavish scraps of bright fabric hung off the arms of indistinguishable men, all wearing black. A parade of three-piece suits and the occasional tuxedo.
Arthur was among them, dressed to the nines in his favorite dark grey suit, one that had cost enough that it didn’t actually look expensive. Unlike the couples and groups heading to or from a particular somewhere, however, he was standing alone outside a restaurant, smoking sullenly and ignoring the occasional glares from the valet.
Saito had collected them from all parts of the world via private jet and flown them in to have dinner together. He'd picked a restaurant that probably cost more per head than Arthur’s monthly rent, and after the Fischer job Arthur lived in a penthouse apartment in Chicago. Arthur had been more than glad for a chance to see the others again. It hadn’t been all that long, really, but when you went through what they’d gone through for inception, and then spent a week running from the militarized projections in the lowest level of the dream, you tended to bond. Hell, he had even been looking forward to seeing Eames again, if only to remind himself not to forget what a cocky bastard the other man was, lest he end up nostalgic.
Only, it had to be a seafood restaurant.
It would have been easy enough to tell Saito that he was allergic beforehand. In all likelihood he had connections enough to get them into any place he wanted, even at the last minute. But Saito had been intent on surprising them, so it wasn’t until they arrived that Arthur knew he couldn’t set foot inside without swelling up, breaking out in hives, and utterly ruining the entire tone of their gathering.
So he’d told them to go ahead with false cheer, and had taking up a post outside beneath the restaurant’s awning with nothing but a half-empty pack of cigarettes and a certain annoyance with fate to keep him company.
Now the pack was completely empty, and Arthur cupped his hand around the end of his last one, flicking the lighter a few times before the flame sprang up, burning a little sluggishly in the damp. The end of his cigarette finally caught, and he took a deep breath, tucking the lighter into his pocket next to a loaded die before breathing out slowly, the smoke drifting into the street.
They’d all been appropriately apologetic, with many repetitions of “Are you sure you’ll be all right?” before they gone inside, but that sort of logical argument didn’t help against the petty annoyance of being left out in the street alone. Everyone passing by was with at least one other person, and he was standing outside of a restaurant, all dressed up with nowhere to go. He was also hungry. He was also cold. He was also sure that the rain was going to utterly ruin his favorite suit.
The sensation of smoke in his mouth and throat was warm and heavy, and he held his breath for a long moment before sighing, letting it drift off and be dispersed by the rain. He thanked his lucky stars he wasn’t asthmatic or he wouldn’t even have the small comfort of his cigarettes. He glanced up behind him at the restaurant. It was a two-story affair, with a covered balcony on the upper floor from which he could occasionally here the snatch of a familiar voice through the rain and street noise. The front of the restaurant was plain, with no name out front, and the valet was leaning on his podium, waiting for potential diners to arrive.
Arthur leaned back against the nearest wall, watching the rain and trying to make his cigarette last as long as possible. He thought about the people inside, wondered what they were talking about, wondered if they even missed his company. He’d heard Eames describe him as boring before, and he wondered with a little frown if that was actually the case. Sure, he found himself interesting and he had always assumed that he wasn’t actually deluding himself, but it was hard to be confident when it was cold and the last thing he’d had to eat was a pack of cookies on the plane that morning.
The cigarette burned down to the point that the filter was threatening to catch fire, and Arthur sighed, stubbing it out against the edge of the ashtray set outside the restaurant’s front door for patrons.
As he straightened, the door opened, and Arthur was surprised to see Dom come out. Like Arthur, he was dressed impeccably, though his suit was black inside of grey, and he came over to stand next to Arthur, silent for a second before saying, “You’re not missing all that much.”
As if in time with his words, Arthur heard Ariadne’s laugh cut through the chatter from the balcony, followed by the lilting sound of Eames saying something that Arthur couldn’t quite make out and Yusuf’s quick reply. Arthur sighed, looking away, and tasted the remnants of smoke in his mouth, and said, “Yeah, sounds really boring.”
Dom didn’t answer, but came to lean up against the wall next to Arthur, who glanced over before crossing his arms and saying in a resigned tone, “You should go enjoy the party.”
“It’s not much of a party without all of us,” Dom said pointedly, and Arthur rolled his eyes. “I’m serious. Saito said he’s going to do this again sometime, only he’ll pick a place you can actually go.”
“No, don’t-Tell him not to do that. I don’t want a pity meal.”
Dom was frowning, and Arthur made an effort to make his face look less surly. He uncrossed his arms, and stuck one hand in his pocket, fingering his totem and lighter absently and wishing he had another pack of cigarettes on him. Dom’s eyes followed his hand, and then he reached into his own pocket and pulled out a fresh pack. It took a second to get the cellophane off, and then Dom tapped it a few times against his palm before offering it to Arthur.
“Thanks.” Arthur said, taking it and drawing out one of the cigarettes in a practiced motion. They weren’t his brand, really, but any port in a storm.
“Saito didn’t know you were allergic to seafood.” Dom said, taking one of the cigarettes for himself before returning the pack to his jacket pocket, “He wouldn’t have picked here if he knew you wouldn’t be able to enjoy it.”
Arthur laughed shortly around the cigarette between his lips, flicking the lighter until the flame held steady and lighting the tip. He offered the lighter to Dom, but the other man had already pulled out his own, so Arthur stowed it in his pocket again.
“I don’t exactly give out a list of what I can and can’t eat to every person I meet,” he pointed out.
“You told me, when we started working together.” Dom responded, rolling his lit cigarette gently between two fingers. Arthur watched the gesture for a second, then shrugged, leaning back against the wall so Dom’s smoke wouldn’t get in his eyes.
“I only told you the ones that were really bad so you wouldn’t accidentally kill me.”
“We still had to take you to the hospital that one time, with those cookies.” Out of the corner of his eye, Arthur saw Dom’s mouth twist in a little smile, “I swear I didn’t know she’d put walnuts in them.”
Arthur nodded without responding, letting the hand holding his cigarette rest near his side. It was nice to hear Dom mention Mal, even briefly, without that old pain in his voice, without shying away. It wasn’t like he didn’t hurt anymore, far from it, but Arthur could see Dom starting to heal, bit by bit, and that was good.
“You hungry?” Dom asked after the silence stretched comfortably for a good two minutes with the two men smoking wordlessly in the rain.
Arthur lifted an eyebrow. If it was anyone but Dom, he probably would have taken the stoic route, but instead he said, “Of course I am. I haven’t eaten since dinner last night in Chicago.”
Dom nodded thoughtfully for a second, then glanced up at the sky thoughtfully before holding his cigarette out to Arthur, “Hold this for a second, and wait here.”
Bemused, Arthur took it from him, and watched as he darted off into the rain and around the corner, one arm raised to block the rain from his face. Arthur winced inwardly at the dry-cleaning bill.
It took nearly ten minutes for Dom to come back, and when he did he was soaked through, his hair plastered to his head and his shirt clinging to him like a second skin. Arthur watched him blink the water out of his eyes, and then open his jacket to shove a yellow paper bag of the kind used for fast-food take-out at Arthur.
Arthur traded it for Dom’s cigarette, frowning slightly, “What is this?”
“I bought you a pretzel,” Dom said simply. “I don’t want you to starve.”
Inside the bag was a large, soft pretzel, of the kind that could be found at vendors and food courts pretty much anywhere, glistening with grease and salt, but more than a little soggy from Dom’s stint in the rain. Arthur was silent for a second, staring at it, and Dom asked, “You’re not allergic to those too, are you?”
“No,” Arthur said, looking up to see Dom watching him with a concerned expression, “No, I’m not. Thank you, Dom.”
He reached into the back and ripped a piece off the pretzel with the hand still holding it cigarette, and put it into his mouth with Dom still watching him. It tasted strange after nothing but the smoke for some time, but it was buttery and salty and Arthur didn’t even mind the sogginess all that much.
Dom seemed satisfied seeing him take a bite, and glanced back around to the door, then at his half-finished cigarette. He sighed, and tossed it to the ground, grinding it out with his heel. Arthur glanced at him, chewing slowly on a second bite of pretzel, and Dom said, “I’m going to head back inside. We should be done really soon, and Saito’s got a place for us to go after this.”
There was nothing really for Arthur to say-“Don’t leave me here!” would have been irredeemably petulant-so he nodded and took another drag off his cigarette, the taste of smoke mingling with that of the pretzel in his mouth.
-----
It took nearly another hour for everyone to finish and come outside. Arthur was debating the relative merits of making a run for it in the rain to try and find a liquor store to buy some more cigarettes when the door opened and all five of them came out, laughing and talking brightly with each other. Eames and Ariadne were in the lead, his arm wrapped around her shoulders. Her face was a little red, and she was walking in her heels as though she’d had a little too much to drink. Eames didn’t look all that sober himself. Then again, he never seemed sober, so it was hard to tell.
Yusuf was behind them, talking excitedly with Saito, who was listening and nodding with an interested expression, though he glanced up to give Arthur an apologetic look. Behind them was Dom, holding a brown paper bag and letting the door swing shut behind them as he left.
Ariadne spotted Arthur and laughed, disentangling herself from Eames to come over and fling her arms around Arthur’s waist, dragging him into a hug.
“M’really sorry you’re allergic and all that,” she said, her cheek pressed against Arthur’s jacket. He glanced up, giving the others a worried look, and then patted her back a little gingerly.
“It’s… fine?” he said slowly. Saito caught his eye.
“It seems that Ariadne trusted Eames to tell her which drinks on the menu were nonalcoholic, and it seems that Eames was not as accurate a source as he could have been,” Saito explained, the smile evident in his voice, if not in his face.
“Oh.” Arthur shifted a little, but Ariadne retained her deathgrip on his waist. “Uh, Ariadne…”
“I think we should make out,” Ariadne told him cheerfully, “Because you’re really, really cute.”
“Ahaha, okay.” Arthur looked up, pleadingly, at Dom, who appeared to be trying to hide a smile by scratching his nose. Instead, Eames came unexpectedly to his rescue, pulling Ariadne gently by the arm and starting to peel her off of Arthur’s front.
“C’mon, sweetheart,” Eames said, half-supporting Ariadne as she tripped over her heels, “If you kiss ‘im you might make him explode. Or die. You had the oysters, remember?”
“Oops!” she giggled, “That’s right.”
Arthur smoothed his shirt automatically, straightening his tie in a practiced gesture that he realized a second later Dom was watching intently. Still a little embarrassed by Ariadne’s outpouring of affection, he turned his face a little to hide the slight blush that colored it.
The half-sized limousine Saito had procured for the occasion pulled up then, and Saito opened the door to allow Ariadne to clamber inside first, aided by Eames’ steadying hand on the small of her back. Yusuf followed, and Dom paused, waving Arthur in before him. They ended up with Ariadne sitting on one side of the cab, with Eames and Yusuf to her right, and Arthur directly across from her with Dom and then Saito to his left.
The ride to wherever Saito planned to take them next didn’t take too long, and though Ariadne chattered incessantly throughout the trip, it wasn’t unpleasant. She was excited to see them again, she told the group at least four times, and it was actually kind of nice to hear what she had been up to, even if she went into a lot more detail than they really needed to hear.
Yusuf, who had come the farthest of all of them and was more than a little jetlagged, fell asleep leaning against the window, and Saito told them that they were going to a hotel where he could get a proper bed.
Eames, being Eames, was taking advantage of Ariadne’s tipsiness to keep his arm around her, hugging her close to his side, but she didn’t seem to mind in the least and it all seemed fairly tame, so though Dom kept glancing over and Arthur felt annoyed, they didn’t tell him off.
Even though there was plenty of space in the limo, the seats were no wider than usual, and Arthur found himself pressed up against Dom in the tight space. Dom's clothes were still wet from the rain, though they'd dried a little and Arthur figured maybe he'd gotten a towel from one of the waiters or something. He could smell the smoke still clinging to Dom’s jacket, or maybe the mild, dusty scent was coming from his own clothing, and it wasn’t hard to warm up after the damp outside the restaurant with the warm closeness of the bodies around him.
He closed his eyes, leaned back against the seat. He felt rather than heard Dom’s small chuckle, and then a voice near his ear said, “Don’t you fall asleep too. I saved you some dessert.”
It took only another few minutes, and the limo pulled into a space outside of a grand hotel, replete with chandeliers and several gloved busboys who hurried forward to open doors and offer the riders a hand to get out. Ariadne had taken off her heels by that point, and so was steadier on her feet as she took Eames’ arm to walk up towards the lobby. It took a bit of prodding to get Yusuf awake enough to walk, but promises of a bed seemed to be enough to get him up and moving. Arthur followed behind him, with Dom at his shoulder, and Saito brought up the rear, his hands clasped behind his back.
The room was as splendid as the lobby had been, with a wide window looking towards the ocean in the large sitting area that the door opened into. Ariadne immediately claimed the largest throne-like chair for herself, and Eames seemed to take up more than half of one of the sofas in an indecent sprawl. Saito moved off immediately to escort Yusuf to one of the adjoining rooms, and Arthur found a spot on a white loveseat. Dom sat beside him a moment later, leaving the brown paper bag on the coffee table in front of him
In the warmth of the room and the comfort of the couch, Arthur suddenly felt very tired, and he leaned back, looping one arm lazily across the back of the sofa. Dom was a solid presence beside him, and Arthur watched out of the corner of his eye as he leaned forward to respond to something Eames had said.
They were talking business again, already, and even a little drunk he could see that Ariadne was paying close attention, probably already planning what sort of mazes would fit the job Eames was talking about. Dom hadn’t really expressed an interest in going back to his old line of work, now that he had what he wanted, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to be interested when Eames started describing a particularly interesting something-or-other he was working on. Dom was still the best. They were all the best.
Saito returned and took a chair beside Ariadne’s, listening intently to the ebb and flow of the conversation with his chin propped in one hand. Arthur wasn’t really following what was being said, just enjoying the familiarity of it all, the voices that he’d grown used to in the weeks leading up to the Fischer job.
He hadn’t realized he’d been lonely until he found himself surrounded by his friends again.
He must have drifted off, because the next thing Arthur knew, Dom was shaking his shoulder, pulling him back to wakefulness far more gently than a kick. He sat up to see that Ariadne had moved to Eames’ sofa, and fallen asleep leaning against him, her legs curled up under her. Eames was flipping through a magazine, but glanced up to smirk at Arthur. Saito was nowhere to be seen.
Arthur sighed and smoothed back his hair, getting to his feet and glancing around. The rain had stopped outside, though the clouds were still low and heavy, reflecting the lights of the city all around. His mouth felt dry, as if he’d been sleeping with it open, and he wondered if that was why Eames had given him that teasing grin.
Dom’s hand on his arm made him follow automatically, and he let the other man lead him towards the balcony. It was long, wrapping around the outside of the hotel. Only half of it was visible from the sitting area. The other half led off into one of the bedrooms, currently unoccupied. It was chilly out there, and Arthur wondered how late it had gotten. Surely not past midnight, judging by the amount of traffic still on the streets far below, but it was hard to tell in a city like this.
The click of a lighter made him turn his head, and he saw that Dom had lit up another cigarette and was let it dangle loosely from his fingers, staring out at the view. He seemed to sense Arthur’s eyes on him, and took a long drag off the cigarette before holding it out, offering it across the small space that separated them.
“Did you eat seafood?” Arthur asked, and Dom frowned a little before nodding, “Then I can’t. It could still be enough to cause a reaction.”
“The pack is inside,” Dom said, nodding back towards the living room. He’d left his jacket off, and Arthur wondered if he wasn’t cold. Dom straightened, turned, “I’ll go get it.”
“No, it’s fine.” Arthur leaned against the glass barrier at the edge of the balcony. They weren’t on the absolute highest tier of the hotel, but that meant it was a straight drop all the way down to the street.
Dom was staring at him. Arthur could feel the eyes on the back of his neck, and he shifted a little under the weight of that attention.
“I’ve missed you,” Dom said suddenly.
Arthur stiffened a little, not sure how to take that, and responded almost cautiously, “I think we all missed each other’s company.”
“I missed you.” Dom repeated more firmly. The words came out with a soft flood of smoke, drifting off into the air. It smelled right, familiar, too strong and close all at once, and Arthur turned his head away, breathing the fresher air.
“I missed you too,” he said after a long time, and he thought he saw Dom smile.
AND THEN DOM ACCOSTED HIM WITH HIS BUTTERY CORNCOB HANDS.
Pairing: Hints of Arthur/Cobb and Ariadne/Eames
Rating: PG
Summary: Arthur is allergic to everything in the world, and also dorian_mauve thinks smoking is sexy. It all started here.
Allergies are not all that uncommon. Most people have something that will set them off, whether it’s certain time of year or the family pet, and for the most part it’s not hard to avoid whatever makes your nose run or your skin break out in an itchy rash. Most people’s allergies were mild, and their causes were few and far between.
Arthur was not that lucky. He stared down drearily at the pavement, dark and wet from the falling rain. It was only a little past seven p.m. and in Santa Monica, the sun would have still been setting over the ocean, had it not been obscured by the persistent June gloom clouds. There were still people about, of course. This was the part of town that was too high-class to allow the weather to dictate its schedule, and women in lavish scraps of bright fabric hung off the arms of indistinguishable men, all wearing black. A parade of three-piece suits and the occasional tuxedo.
Arthur was among them, dressed to the nines in his favorite dark grey suit, one that had cost enough that it didn’t actually look expensive. Unlike the couples and groups heading to or from a particular somewhere, however, he was standing alone outside a restaurant, smoking sullenly and ignoring the occasional glares from the valet.
Saito had collected them from all parts of the world via private jet and flown them in to have dinner together. He'd picked a restaurant that probably cost more per head than Arthur’s monthly rent, and after the Fischer job Arthur lived in a penthouse apartment in Chicago. Arthur had been more than glad for a chance to see the others again. It hadn’t been all that long, really, but when you went through what they’d gone through for inception, and then spent a week running from the militarized projections in the lowest level of the dream, you tended to bond. Hell, he had even been looking forward to seeing Eames again, if only to remind himself not to forget what a cocky bastard the other man was, lest he end up nostalgic.
Only, it had to be a seafood restaurant.
It would have been easy enough to tell Saito that he was allergic beforehand. In all likelihood he had connections enough to get them into any place he wanted, even at the last minute. But Saito had been intent on surprising them, so it wasn’t until they arrived that Arthur knew he couldn’t set foot inside without swelling up, breaking out in hives, and utterly ruining the entire tone of their gathering.
So he’d told them to go ahead with false cheer, and had taking up a post outside beneath the restaurant’s awning with nothing but a half-empty pack of cigarettes and a certain annoyance with fate to keep him company.
Now the pack was completely empty, and Arthur cupped his hand around the end of his last one, flicking the lighter a few times before the flame sprang up, burning a little sluggishly in the damp. The end of his cigarette finally caught, and he took a deep breath, tucking the lighter into his pocket next to a loaded die before breathing out slowly, the smoke drifting into the street.
They’d all been appropriately apologetic, with many repetitions of “Are you sure you’ll be all right?” before they gone inside, but that sort of logical argument didn’t help against the petty annoyance of being left out in the street alone. Everyone passing by was with at least one other person, and he was standing outside of a restaurant, all dressed up with nowhere to go. He was also hungry. He was also cold. He was also sure that the rain was going to utterly ruin his favorite suit.
The sensation of smoke in his mouth and throat was warm and heavy, and he held his breath for a long moment before sighing, letting it drift off and be dispersed by the rain. He thanked his lucky stars he wasn’t asthmatic or he wouldn’t even have the small comfort of his cigarettes. He glanced up behind him at the restaurant. It was a two-story affair, with a covered balcony on the upper floor from which he could occasionally here the snatch of a familiar voice through the rain and street noise. The front of the restaurant was plain, with no name out front, and the valet was leaning on his podium, waiting for potential diners to arrive.
Arthur leaned back against the nearest wall, watching the rain and trying to make his cigarette last as long as possible. He thought about the people inside, wondered what they were talking about, wondered if they even missed his company. He’d heard Eames describe him as boring before, and he wondered with a little frown if that was actually the case. Sure, he found himself interesting and he had always assumed that he wasn’t actually deluding himself, but it was hard to be confident when it was cold and the last thing he’d had to eat was a pack of cookies on the plane that morning.
The cigarette burned down to the point that the filter was threatening to catch fire, and Arthur sighed, stubbing it out against the edge of the ashtray set outside the restaurant’s front door for patrons.
As he straightened, the door opened, and Arthur was surprised to see Dom come out. Like Arthur, he was dressed impeccably, though his suit was black inside of grey, and he came over to stand next to Arthur, silent for a second before saying, “You’re not missing all that much.”
As if in time with his words, Arthur heard Ariadne’s laugh cut through the chatter from the balcony, followed by the lilting sound of Eames saying something that Arthur couldn’t quite make out and Yusuf’s quick reply. Arthur sighed, looking away, and tasted the remnants of smoke in his mouth, and said, “Yeah, sounds really boring.”
Dom didn’t answer, but came to lean up against the wall next to Arthur, who glanced over before crossing his arms and saying in a resigned tone, “You should go enjoy the party.”
“It’s not much of a party without all of us,” Dom said pointedly, and Arthur rolled his eyes. “I’m serious. Saito said he’s going to do this again sometime, only he’ll pick a place you can actually go.”
“No, don’t-Tell him not to do that. I don’t want a pity meal.”
Dom was frowning, and Arthur made an effort to make his face look less surly. He uncrossed his arms, and stuck one hand in his pocket, fingering his totem and lighter absently and wishing he had another pack of cigarettes on him. Dom’s eyes followed his hand, and then he reached into his own pocket and pulled out a fresh pack. It took a second to get the cellophane off, and then Dom tapped it a few times against his palm before offering it to Arthur.
“Thanks.” Arthur said, taking it and drawing out one of the cigarettes in a practiced motion. They weren’t his brand, really, but any port in a storm.
“Saito didn’t know you were allergic to seafood.” Dom said, taking one of the cigarettes for himself before returning the pack to his jacket pocket, “He wouldn’t have picked here if he knew you wouldn’t be able to enjoy it.”
Arthur laughed shortly around the cigarette between his lips, flicking the lighter until the flame held steady and lighting the tip. He offered the lighter to Dom, but the other man had already pulled out his own, so Arthur stowed it in his pocket again.
“I don’t exactly give out a list of what I can and can’t eat to every person I meet,” he pointed out.
“You told me, when we started working together.” Dom responded, rolling his lit cigarette gently between two fingers. Arthur watched the gesture for a second, then shrugged, leaning back against the wall so Dom’s smoke wouldn’t get in his eyes.
“I only told you the ones that were really bad so you wouldn’t accidentally kill me.”
“We still had to take you to the hospital that one time, with those cookies.” Out of the corner of his eye, Arthur saw Dom’s mouth twist in a little smile, “I swear I didn’t know she’d put walnuts in them.”
Arthur nodded without responding, letting the hand holding his cigarette rest near his side. It was nice to hear Dom mention Mal, even briefly, without that old pain in his voice, without shying away. It wasn’t like he didn’t hurt anymore, far from it, but Arthur could see Dom starting to heal, bit by bit, and that was good.
“You hungry?” Dom asked after the silence stretched comfortably for a good two minutes with the two men smoking wordlessly in the rain.
Arthur lifted an eyebrow. If it was anyone but Dom, he probably would have taken the stoic route, but instead he said, “Of course I am. I haven’t eaten since dinner last night in Chicago.”
Dom nodded thoughtfully for a second, then glanced up at the sky thoughtfully before holding his cigarette out to Arthur, “Hold this for a second, and wait here.”
Bemused, Arthur took it from him, and watched as he darted off into the rain and around the corner, one arm raised to block the rain from his face. Arthur winced inwardly at the dry-cleaning bill.
It took nearly ten minutes for Dom to come back, and when he did he was soaked through, his hair plastered to his head and his shirt clinging to him like a second skin. Arthur watched him blink the water out of his eyes, and then open his jacket to shove a yellow paper bag of the kind used for fast-food take-out at Arthur.
Arthur traded it for Dom’s cigarette, frowning slightly, “What is this?”
“I bought you a pretzel,” Dom said simply. “I don’t want you to starve.”
Inside the bag was a large, soft pretzel, of the kind that could be found at vendors and food courts pretty much anywhere, glistening with grease and salt, but more than a little soggy from Dom’s stint in the rain. Arthur was silent for a second, staring at it, and Dom asked, “You’re not allergic to those too, are you?”
“No,” Arthur said, looking up to see Dom watching him with a concerned expression, “No, I’m not. Thank you, Dom.”
He reached into the back and ripped a piece off the pretzel with the hand still holding it cigarette, and put it into his mouth with Dom still watching him. It tasted strange after nothing but the smoke for some time, but it was buttery and salty and Arthur didn’t even mind the sogginess all that much.
Dom seemed satisfied seeing him take a bite, and glanced back around to the door, then at his half-finished cigarette. He sighed, and tossed it to the ground, grinding it out with his heel. Arthur glanced at him, chewing slowly on a second bite of pretzel, and Dom said, “I’m going to head back inside. We should be done really soon, and Saito’s got a place for us to go after this.”
There was nothing really for Arthur to say-“Don’t leave me here!” would have been irredeemably petulant-so he nodded and took another drag off his cigarette, the taste of smoke mingling with that of the pretzel in his mouth.
-----
It took nearly another hour for everyone to finish and come outside. Arthur was debating the relative merits of making a run for it in the rain to try and find a liquor store to buy some more cigarettes when the door opened and all five of them came out, laughing and talking brightly with each other. Eames and Ariadne were in the lead, his arm wrapped around her shoulders. Her face was a little red, and she was walking in her heels as though she’d had a little too much to drink. Eames didn’t look all that sober himself. Then again, he never seemed sober, so it was hard to tell.
Yusuf was behind them, talking excitedly with Saito, who was listening and nodding with an interested expression, though he glanced up to give Arthur an apologetic look. Behind them was Dom, holding a brown paper bag and letting the door swing shut behind them as he left.
Ariadne spotted Arthur and laughed, disentangling herself from Eames to come over and fling her arms around Arthur’s waist, dragging him into a hug.
“M’really sorry you’re allergic and all that,” she said, her cheek pressed against Arthur’s jacket. He glanced up, giving the others a worried look, and then patted her back a little gingerly.
“It’s… fine?” he said slowly. Saito caught his eye.
“It seems that Ariadne trusted Eames to tell her which drinks on the menu were nonalcoholic, and it seems that Eames was not as accurate a source as he could have been,” Saito explained, the smile evident in his voice, if not in his face.
“Oh.” Arthur shifted a little, but Ariadne retained her deathgrip on his waist. “Uh, Ariadne…”
“I think we should make out,” Ariadne told him cheerfully, “Because you’re really, really cute.”
“Ahaha, okay.” Arthur looked up, pleadingly, at Dom, who appeared to be trying to hide a smile by scratching his nose. Instead, Eames came unexpectedly to his rescue, pulling Ariadne gently by the arm and starting to peel her off of Arthur’s front.
“C’mon, sweetheart,” Eames said, half-supporting Ariadne as she tripped over her heels, “If you kiss ‘im you might make him explode. Or die. You had the oysters, remember?”
“Oops!” she giggled, “That’s right.”
Arthur smoothed his shirt automatically, straightening his tie in a practiced gesture that he realized a second later Dom was watching intently. Still a little embarrassed by Ariadne’s outpouring of affection, he turned his face a little to hide the slight blush that colored it.
The half-sized limousine Saito had procured for the occasion pulled up then, and Saito opened the door to allow Ariadne to clamber inside first, aided by Eames’ steadying hand on the small of her back. Yusuf followed, and Dom paused, waving Arthur in before him. They ended up with Ariadne sitting on one side of the cab, with Eames and Yusuf to her right, and Arthur directly across from her with Dom and then Saito to his left.
The ride to wherever Saito planned to take them next didn’t take too long, and though Ariadne chattered incessantly throughout the trip, it wasn’t unpleasant. She was excited to see them again, she told the group at least four times, and it was actually kind of nice to hear what she had been up to, even if she went into a lot more detail than they really needed to hear.
Yusuf, who had come the farthest of all of them and was more than a little jetlagged, fell asleep leaning against the window, and Saito told them that they were going to a hotel where he could get a proper bed.
Eames, being Eames, was taking advantage of Ariadne’s tipsiness to keep his arm around her, hugging her close to his side, but she didn’t seem to mind in the least and it all seemed fairly tame, so though Dom kept glancing over and Arthur felt annoyed, they didn’t tell him off.
Even though there was plenty of space in the limo, the seats were no wider than usual, and Arthur found himself pressed up against Dom in the tight space. Dom's clothes were still wet from the rain, though they'd dried a little and Arthur figured maybe he'd gotten a towel from one of the waiters or something. He could smell the smoke still clinging to Dom’s jacket, or maybe the mild, dusty scent was coming from his own clothing, and it wasn’t hard to warm up after the damp outside the restaurant with the warm closeness of the bodies around him.
He closed his eyes, leaned back against the seat. He felt rather than heard Dom’s small chuckle, and then a voice near his ear said, “Don’t you fall asleep too. I saved you some dessert.”
It took only another few minutes, and the limo pulled into a space outside of a grand hotel, replete with chandeliers and several gloved busboys who hurried forward to open doors and offer the riders a hand to get out. Ariadne had taken off her heels by that point, and so was steadier on her feet as she took Eames’ arm to walk up towards the lobby. It took a bit of prodding to get Yusuf awake enough to walk, but promises of a bed seemed to be enough to get him up and moving. Arthur followed behind him, with Dom at his shoulder, and Saito brought up the rear, his hands clasped behind his back.
The room was as splendid as the lobby had been, with a wide window looking towards the ocean in the large sitting area that the door opened into. Ariadne immediately claimed the largest throne-like chair for herself, and Eames seemed to take up more than half of one of the sofas in an indecent sprawl. Saito moved off immediately to escort Yusuf to one of the adjoining rooms, and Arthur found a spot on a white loveseat. Dom sat beside him a moment later, leaving the brown paper bag on the coffee table in front of him
In the warmth of the room and the comfort of the couch, Arthur suddenly felt very tired, and he leaned back, looping one arm lazily across the back of the sofa. Dom was a solid presence beside him, and Arthur watched out of the corner of his eye as he leaned forward to respond to something Eames had said.
They were talking business again, already, and even a little drunk he could see that Ariadne was paying close attention, probably already planning what sort of mazes would fit the job Eames was talking about. Dom hadn’t really expressed an interest in going back to his old line of work, now that he had what he wanted, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to be interested when Eames started describing a particularly interesting something-or-other he was working on. Dom was still the best. They were all the best.
Saito returned and took a chair beside Ariadne’s, listening intently to the ebb and flow of the conversation with his chin propped in one hand. Arthur wasn’t really following what was being said, just enjoying the familiarity of it all, the voices that he’d grown used to in the weeks leading up to the Fischer job.
He hadn’t realized he’d been lonely until he found himself surrounded by his friends again.
He must have drifted off, because the next thing Arthur knew, Dom was shaking his shoulder, pulling him back to wakefulness far more gently than a kick. He sat up to see that Ariadne had moved to Eames’ sofa, and fallen asleep leaning against him, her legs curled up under her. Eames was flipping through a magazine, but glanced up to smirk at Arthur. Saito was nowhere to be seen.
Arthur sighed and smoothed back his hair, getting to his feet and glancing around. The rain had stopped outside, though the clouds were still low and heavy, reflecting the lights of the city all around. His mouth felt dry, as if he’d been sleeping with it open, and he wondered if that was why Eames had given him that teasing grin.
Dom’s hand on his arm made him follow automatically, and he let the other man lead him towards the balcony. It was long, wrapping around the outside of the hotel. Only half of it was visible from the sitting area. The other half led off into one of the bedrooms, currently unoccupied. It was chilly out there, and Arthur wondered how late it had gotten. Surely not past midnight, judging by the amount of traffic still on the streets far below, but it was hard to tell in a city like this.
The click of a lighter made him turn his head, and he saw that Dom had lit up another cigarette and was let it dangle loosely from his fingers, staring out at the view. He seemed to sense Arthur’s eyes on him, and took a long drag off the cigarette before holding it out, offering it across the small space that separated them.
“Did you eat seafood?” Arthur asked, and Dom frowned a little before nodding, “Then I can’t. It could still be enough to cause a reaction.”
“The pack is inside,” Dom said, nodding back towards the living room. He’d left his jacket off, and Arthur wondered if he wasn’t cold. Dom straightened, turned, “I’ll go get it.”
“No, it’s fine.” Arthur leaned against the glass barrier at the edge of the balcony. They weren’t on the absolute highest tier of the hotel, but that meant it was a straight drop all the way down to the street.
Dom was staring at him. Arthur could feel the eyes on the back of his neck, and he shifted a little under the weight of that attention.
“I’ve missed you,” Dom said suddenly.
Arthur stiffened a little, not sure how to take that, and responded almost cautiously, “I think we all missed each other’s company.”
“I missed you.” Dom repeated more firmly. The words came out with a soft flood of smoke, drifting off into the air. It smelled right, familiar, too strong and close all at once, and Arthur turned his head away, breathing the fresher air.
“I missed you too,” he said after a long time, and he thought he saw Dom smile.
AND THEN DOM ACCOSTED HIM WITH HIS BUTTERY CORNCOB HANDS.