An Inappropriate Relationship, Arthur/Cobb, Cobb/Eames
Title: An Inappropriate Relationship
Pairing: Arthur/Cobb, Cobb/Eames
Rating: PG-13
Summary: dorian_mauve wanted a fic in which "Arthur pines while Eames gets to have casual sex with Dom."
As if there weren’t enough reasons to dislike Eames on principal, Arthur found out two weeks into the planning of the Fischer job that he was sleeping with the boss. Ordinarily, Arthur would have regarded such knowledge with a sort of detached exasperation. Such relationships never really worked out in the long run. They were as transient as the teams good extractors assembled to perform particularly tricky jobs, and usually just as poorly matched.
Only Arthur found himself growing alternately furious and deeply hurt.
Intellectually, he couldn’t really quantify why the fact that Eames always smelled like Cobb’s cologne after they arrived at work together in the morning made him want to strangle someone, or why seeing Cobb rubbing gingerly at a bite mark on the side of his neck made Arthur’s stomach flop uncomfortably. The worst part was that they hadn’t started along that relationship arc that would eventually lead to a messy break-up. They seemed to have settled quite comfortably in the early stages of things, and were enjoying the benefits of a sexual relationship without the inevitable march towards fiery destruction.
Arthur rather suspected Eames knew how much it bothered him to see the casual touches they exchanged as everyone packed up to go home for the evening. Those silent looks that meant they were going home together were something Arthur had learned to recognize early on, and when he saw Cobb glance up and give Eames that particular smile, he had to set down whatever he was holding lest he break it.
Whatever unfathomable thing attracted Cobb to someone like Eames, Arthur didn’t know. It certainly wasn’t his erudite conversation or his gentlemanly behavior. On the other side of things, Arthur could certainly see why someone like Eames would be interested in Cobb. He was a very intelligent person, someone reliable and interesting. Plus, Arthur though pragmatically, Cobb was a very handsome person, from an objective point of view.
It was clear to Arthur that his issues with the relationship came from the fact that he respected Cobb and didn’t like the thought of him being with someone so classless. It Cobb had taken up with Saito or Ariadne or even Yusuf, Arthur assured himself he would not feel quite so upset when he noticed Eames wearing one of Cobb’s shirts or saw Cobb laughing with Eames over by the coffee machine.
He also considered, briefly, that he might be angry that Cobb would have such a ridiculous and casual relationship after Mal, but quashed that thought quickly. It wasn’t his place to psychoanalyze Cobb’s issues with his dead wife, he told himself, and Cobb had the right to start moving past Mal. Maybe a very casual relationship was good for him. Maybe it was a sign that he was getting better.
Such thoughts did little to stop Arthur from glaring when he saw Eames wandering past Cobb’s desk too many times wearing a pair of pants that were definitely far too small for anyone to wear comfortably.
By the third week of the relationship (and although loathed the fact that he was keeping track,) Arthur caught himself treating Cobb to stony silences that must have mystified the other man. More than once Cobb asked him if he was all right and Arthur ordered himself to stop being immature about these things.
It wasn’t like it had any affect on him what they did together. It had no bearing on the job. It was irrelevant.
Arthur made it his personal mission to notice everything about their relationship. He noticed when Eames came in wearing a half-way decent shirt, and when Cobb went over and adjusted the collar Arthur was convinced it must have been a gift. Eames took to bringing Cobb his coffee, and if Cobb thought no one was watching he would allow Eames to kiss him. There were days when Eames more grating qualities would be unbearably abrasive all morning, and then the two of them would disappear for a time and both would come back seeming far more relaxed. Once Arthur walked in on them in Cobb’s office and found out that Eames had tattoos in places that would have made (and did make) a grown man blush.
It was probably that last thing that made Arthur snap.
He slammed the door on his way back out and all but stormed back to his desk, throwing down the stack of file folders and making Ariadne jump.
“Arthur?” she asked cautiously, getting up from her own worktable and coming towards him, “What’s the matter--”
“I’m sick of the two of them!” Arthur barely kept his voice under control, but didn’t shout at her. It wasn’t her fault Eames was a complete bastard who was completely ruining the dynamic of the team. “I am so sick of him and his fucking agenda to distract Cobb.”
“What are you talking about?” Ariadne asked, looking from him to the door to Cobb’s office.
Arthur took a deep settling breath, then snatched his jacket off the back of his chair. “I”m going out. I’ll be back later.”
Behind him, he heard the door to Cobb’s office bang as it came open again, and Cobb’s voice, “Arthur-- Wait!”
Right. He really wanted to stay behind and have a conversation with Cobb about the fact that he’d walked in on him fucking the forger. Arthur kept walking, and slammed the door to the warehouse behind him and he stalked out onto the street.
---------
Eames found him first. Arthur saw him come in through the door of the bar, and only barely contained himself. Instead of leaping up and going for his throat, Arthur took the high route and took another sip of his drink. Eames made a beeline for him, and Arthur set the glass down with a little more force than necessary, turning on the bar stool to face him.
“Skipping out on work to drink in a sleazy bar,” Eames said, coming to a halt close enough that Arthur could have kicked him, “Very professional there, Arthur.”
“Fuck off.” Arthur started to turn back to the bar, but Eames put a hand on his shoulder. Arthur stiffened, “I will break your fingers.”
Eames took back the hand.
“We need you for the dry run we’re doing in the second level this afternoon,” he said, taking the stool next to Arthur’s. Arthur contemplated punching him, but decided it wasn’t worth getting kicked out. Maybe he should get Eames to go outside with him. He could rip that stupid grin off his face out there.
“I’m busy,” Arthur said, “And I don’t think the... I don’t think that we’d be very productive right now.”
“Why, because you’re worried your subconscious would be angry enough about me screwing around with Cobb to do something drastic?” Eames propped his elbow on the counter, “Don’t worry about me, Arthur. I can take care of myself.”
“I told you to go away.” Arthur grabbed his drink and stood, walking deliberately towards one of the table near the back door. He sensed Eames tense as if to follow, but didn’t hear footsteps behind him. The only place he could sit was facing away from the front door, but he figured he’d hear Eames if he tried to chase him, so he set his drink down and sank into the chair, listening.
The bar was only sparsely crowded, and Arthur heard Eames’ voice, too low to be understood, after a moment, speaking quickly and quietly. He wanted to turn around, to see who Eames was talking to, but that seemed too much like admitting defeat, so he simply glared down at the pitted wood of the table.
A few people passed by his table, and he kept expecting them to be Eames, but after several minutes he allowed himself to relax and take another sip of his drink.
“Arthur.” The voice was Cobb’s, and Arthur felt the muscles in his shoulders go tight as he watched him sit down across the table. “What are you doing?”
“Drinking.” Arthur set down his glass heavily, “Why did you follow me?”
“Because you stormed out in a rage, and that’s unlike you.” Cobb looked concerned and cautious, and Arthur noticed that the top two buttons of his shirt were undone. He’d put it on in a hurry.
Arthur took another drink, “I’d like to point out, for the record, that you two weren’t exactly behaving professionally either.”
“I’m sorry we surprised you,” Cobb said levelly, “I thought the closed door would be enough.”
“Obviously not.”
They sat in stony silence for another minute, and then Cobb sighed, “Look, Arthur, I can tell you have some problems with the fact that Eames and I are in a relationship. And I can understand that--” Arthur didn’t roll his eyes, “But we all need to work together. As professionals.”
Arthur simply stared at him, “Because bending him over your desk is really very professional.”
“Dammit, Arthur!” Cobb looked as though he was about to slam his fist down on the table, but thought better of it, “You’ve been acting odd for weeks! I know that you and Eames don’t exactly get along, but I would have thought you could be more mature than this!”
“Than what?”
“Than acting like a jealous child!” Cobb snapped.
Arthur stood up, his chair scraping back loudly, and turned towards the back door. He heard Cobb follow him, but he was outside in the alley behind the bar before Cobb caught up, and turned to face him as he came out through the swinging door.
“I am not a child!” Arthur shouted.
“You’re sure acting like one!” Cobb flung his hands wide, “And frankly, Arthur, I’m not sure what you’re expecting from me, here! I’m trying to talk to you about this and you’re not making any effort at all! You don’t have the right to-- You don’t get to ‘approve’ who I have a relationship with! Just because you don’t like Eames doesn’t mean I can’t.”
“It’s not about that!” Arthur wanted to do something, to run or to fight, but instead balled his hand into fists.
“Then what is it about?” Cobb demanded.
“I hate seeing you with him!”
“It’s none of your business, Arthur!” Cobb took a step emphatically forward, “It’s my personal life! I decide who I have a relationship with, not you!”
“Yeah, and you really know how to pick them!” It slipped out before Arthur had time to moderate the path from his brain to his mouth, and he saw the expression on Cobb’s face change in a heartbeat, from baffled anger to hurt to a blank wall.
“What do you mean?” he asked, his tone gone icy.
“I just meant--” Arthur backtracked furiously, “Eames isn’t-- He’s not-- I wouldn’t have thought you’d have anything in common.”
“Well you thought wrong.” Cobb didn’t give anything in his voice. Where the shouting had at least betrayed the fact that he cared what Arthur thought, Arthur could only hear a quite, impersonal anger in his words, “And if you can’t grow up and deal with that, you need to find someone else to work with.”
“I--” Arthur said, “I-- I didn’t mean... Dom, please, I didn’t mean that.”
“So tell me what you did mean, or go home and don’t come back until you’re able to act like an adult.” Cobb’s frown deepened, “And sober.”
The back door of the bar opened behind Cobb’s back, and Arthur saw Eames come out, looking concerned. “Dom?”
Arthur shoved his hands into his pockets, fiddling with the die he found there absently, and watched Eames come over to stand next to Cobb, casually too close.
“We can go,” Cobb said, turning towards Eames. The blankness was gone from his face when he looked at Eames.
Eames slipped a hand around the small of Cobb’s back, and Arthur watched them walk back towards the door as one. It swung shut behind them, and Arthur was alone in the alley.
He sighed, staring down at the dirty asphalt under his feet, giving them time to leave through the front before he steadied himself and went back inside.
Pairing: Arthur/Cobb, Cobb/Eames
Rating: PG-13
Summary: dorian_mauve wanted a fic in which "Arthur pines while Eames gets to have casual sex with Dom."
As if there weren’t enough reasons to dislike Eames on principal, Arthur found out two weeks into the planning of the Fischer job that he was sleeping with the boss. Ordinarily, Arthur would have regarded such knowledge with a sort of detached exasperation. Such relationships never really worked out in the long run. They were as transient as the teams good extractors assembled to perform particularly tricky jobs, and usually just as poorly matched.
Only Arthur found himself growing alternately furious and deeply hurt.
Intellectually, he couldn’t really quantify why the fact that Eames always smelled like Cobb’s cologne after they arrived at work together in the morning made him want to strangle someone, or why seeing Cobb rubbing gingerly at a bite mark on the side of his neck made Arthur’s stomach flop uncomfortably. The worst part was that they hadn’t started along that relationship arc that would eventually lead to a messy break-up. They seemed to have settled quite comfortably in the early stages of things, and were enjoying the benefits of a sexual relationship without the inevitable march towards fiery destruction.
Arthur rather suspected Eames knew how much it bothered him to see the casual touches they exchanged as everyone packed up to go home for the evening. Those silent looks that meant they were going home together were something Arthur had learned to recognize early on, and when he saw Cobb glance up and give Eames that particular smile, he had to set down whatever he was holding lest he break it.
Whatever unfathomable thing attracted Cobb to someone like Eames, Arthur didn’t know. It certainly wasn’t his erudite conversation or his gentlemanly behavior. On the other side of things, Arthur could certainly see why someone like Eames would be interested in Cobb. He was a very intelligent person, someone reliable and interesting. Plus, Arthur though pragmatically, Cobb was a very handsome person, from an objective point of view.
It was clear to Arthur that his issues with the relationship came from the fact that he respected Cobb and didn’t like the thought of him being with someone so classless. It Cobb had taken up with Saito or Ariadne or even Yusuf, Arthur assured himself he would not feel quite so upset when he noticed Eames wearing one of Cobb’s shirts or saw Cobb laughing with Eames over by the coffee machine.
He also considered, briefly, that he might be angry that Cobb would have such a ridiculous and casual relationship after Mal, but quashed that thought quickly. It wasn’t his place to psychoanalyze Cobb’s issues with his dead wife, he told himself, and Cobb had the right to start moving past Mal. Maybe a very casual relationship was good for him. Maybe it was a sign that he was getting better.
Such thoughts did little to stop Arthur from glaring when he saw Eames wandering past Cobb’s desk too many times wearing a pair of pants that were definitely far too small for anyone to wear comfortably.
By the third week of the relationship (and although loathed the fact that he was keeping track,) Arthur caught himself treating Cobb to stony silences that must have mystified the other man. More than once Cobb asked him if he was all right and Arthur ordered himself to stop being immature about these things.
It wasn’t like it had any affect on him what they did together. It had no bearing on the job. It was irrelevant.
Arthur made it his personal mission to notice everything about their relationship. He noticed when Eames came in wearing a half-way decent shirt, and when Cobb went over and adjusted the collar Arthur was convinced it must have been a gift. Eames took to bringing Cobb his coffee, and if Cobb thought no one was watching he would allow Eames to kiss him. There were days when Eames more grating qualities would be unbearably abrasive all morning, and then the two of them would disappear for a time and both would come back seeming far more relaxed. Once Arthur walked in on them in Cobb’s office and found out that Eames had tattoos in places that would have made (and did make) a grown man blush.
It was probably that last thing that made Arthur snap.
He slammed the door on his way back out and all but stormed back to his desk, throwing down the stack of file folders and making Ariadne jump.
“Arthur?” she asked cautiously, getting up from her own worktable and coming towards him, “What’s the matter--”
“I’m sick of the two of them!” Arthur barely kept his voice under control, but didn’t shout at her. It wasn’t her fault Eames was a complete bastard who was completely ruining the dynamic of the team. “I am so sick of him and his fucking agenda to distract Cobb.”
“What are you talking about?” Ariadne asked, looking from him to the door to Cobb’s office.
Arthur took a deep settling breath, then snatched his jacket off the back of his chair. “I”m going out. I’ll be back later.”
Behind him, he heard the door to Cobb’s office bang as it came open again, and Cobb’s voice, “Arthur-- Wait!”
Right. He really wanted to stay behind and have a conversation with Cobb about the fact that he’d walked in on him fucking the forger. Arthur kept walking, and slammed the door to the warehouse behind him and he stalked out onto the street.
---------
Eames found him first. Arthur saw him come in through the door of the bar, and only barely contained himself. Instead of leaping up and going for his throat, Arthur took the high route and took another sip of his drink. Eames made a beeline for him, and Arthur set the glass down with a little more force than necessary, turning on the bar stool to face him.
“Skipping out on work to drink in a sleazy bar,” Eames said, coming to a halt close enough that Arthur could have kicked him, “Very professional there, Arthur.”
“Fuck off.” Arthur started to turn back to the bar, but Eames put a hand on his shoulder. Arthur stiffened, “I will break your fingers.”
Eames took back the hand.
“We need you for the dry run we’re doing in the second level this afternoon,” he said, taking the stool next to Arthur’s. Arthur contemplated punching him, but decided it wasn’t worth getting kicked out. Maybe he should get Eames to go outside with him. He could rip that stupid grin off his face out there.
“I’m busy,” Arthur said, “And I don’t think the... I don’t think that we’d be very productive right now.”
“Why, because you’re worried your subconscious would be angry enough about me screwing around with Cobb to do something drastic?” Eames propped his elbow on the counter, “Don’t worry about me, Arthur. I can take care of myself.”
“I told you to go away.” Arthur grabbed his drink and stood, walking deliberately towards one of the table near the back door. He sensed Eames tense as if to follow, but didn’t hear footsteps behind him. The only place he could sit was facing away from the front door, but he figured he’d hear Eames if he tried to chase him, so he set his drink down and sank into the chair, listening.
The bar was only sparsely crowded, and Arthur heard Eames’ voice, too low to be understood, after a moment, speaking quickly and quietly. He wanted to turn around, to see who Eames was talking to, but that seemed too much like admitting defeat, so he simply glared down at the pitted wood of the table.
A few people passed by his table, and he kept expecting them to be Eames, but after several minutes he allowed himself to relax and take another sip of his drink.
“Arthur.” The voice was Cobb’s, and Arthur felt the muscles in his shoulders go tight as he watched him sit down across the table. “What are you doing?”
“Drinking.” Arthur set down his glass heavily, “Why did you follow me?”
“Because you stormed out in a rage, and that’s unlike you.” Cobb looked concerned and cautious, and Arthur noticed that the top two buttons of his shirt were undone. He’d put it on in a hurry.
Arthur took another drink, “I’d like to point out, for the record, that you two weren’t exactly behaving professionally either.”
“I’m sorry we surprised you,” Cobb said levelly, “I thought the closed door would be enough.”
“Obviously not.”
They sat in stony silence for another minute, and then Cobb sighed, “Look, Arthur, I can tell you have some problems with the fact that Eames and I are in a relationship. And I can understand that--” Arthur didn’t roll his eyes, “But we all need to work together. As professionals.”
Arthur simply stared at him, “Because bending him over your desk is really very professional.”
“Dammit, Arthur!” Cobb looked as though he was about to slam his fist down on the table, but thought better of it, “You’ve been acting odd for weeks! I know that you and Eames don’t exactly get along, but I would have thought you could be more mature than this!”
“Than what?”
“Than acting like a jealous child!” Cobb snapped.
Arthur stood up, his chair scraping back loudly, and turned towards the back door. He heard Cobb follow him, but he was outside in the alley behind the bar before Cobb caught up, and turned to face him as he came out through the swinging door.
“I am not a child!” Arthur shouted.
“You’re sure acting like one!” Cobb flung his hands wide, “And frankly, Arthur, I’m not sure what you’re expecting from me, here! I’m trying to talk to you about this and you’re not making any effort at all! You don’t have the right to-- You don’t get to ‘approve’ who I have a relationship with! Just because you don’t like Eames doesn’t mean I can’t.”
“It’s not about that!” Arthur wanted to do something, to run or to fight, but instead balled his hand into fists.
“Then what is it about?” Cobb demanded.
“I hate seeing you with him!”
“It’s none of your business, Arthur!” Cobb took a step emphatically forward, “It’s my personal life! I decide who I have a relationship with, not you!”
“Yeah, and you really know how to pick them!” It slipped out before Arthur had time to moderate the path from his brain to his mouth, and he saw the expression on Cobb’s face change in a heartbeat, from baffled anger to hurt to a blank wall.
“What do you mean?” he asked, his tone gone icy.
“I just meant--” Arthur backtracked furiously, “Eames isn’t-- He’s not-- I wouldn’t have thought you’d have anything in common.”
“Well you thought wrong.” Cobb didn’t give anything in his voice. Where the shouting had at least betrayed the fact that he cared what Arthur thought, Arthur could only hear a quite, impersonal anger in his words, “And if you can’t grow up and deal with that, you need to find someone else to work with.”
“I--” Arthur said, “I-- I didn’t mean... Dom, please, I didn’t mean that.”
“So tell me what you did mean, or go home and don’t come back until you’re able to act like an adult.” Cobb’s frown deepened, “And sober.”
The back door of the bar opened behind Cobb’s back, and Arthur saw Eames come out, looking concerned. “Dom?”
Arthur shoved his hands into his pockets, fiddling with the die he found there absently, and watched Eames come over to stand next to Cobb, casually too close.
“We can go,” Cobb said, turning towards Eames. The blankness was gone from his face when he looked at Eames.
Eames slipped a hand around the small of Cobb’s back, and Arthur watched them walk back towards the door as one. It swung shut behind them, and Arthur was alone in the alley.
He sighed, staring down at the dirty asphalt under his feet, giving them time to leave through the front before he steadied himself and went back inside.