110. fic: so tell me, darling (all the time).
so tell me, darling (all the time).
inception. eames/arthur. pg-13. 3678 words.
arthur has a little girl named charlotte.
for kla, who is awesome. ♥
inspired by this prompt at inception_kink.
the knocking begins just as arthur has finally managed to lay down in his bed. he groans and rubs his face against his cool pillow for a moment, before rolling onto his back and staring at the vaulted ceiling of his master bedroom. the sound is quiet enough that he can almost ignore it but just steady enough that he can't.
arthur looks at the clock shining 2:34 and pulls the duvet over his head. he hopes desperately that whoever is at the door will go away quickly when he doesn't answer. after all, it can't really be an emergency since his phone has been silent all night. but the noise continues, slowly growing louder.
arthur curses, quietly, as he gets out of bed. he stumbles blindly down the curved staircase to his front door. he's so exhausted that his socked feet slip a bit as he walks across the hardwood floor and he has to grip the foyer table to stay upright, wincing as the objects on it -- a delicate baccarat vega lamp and gingko crystal vase filled with fresh roses and lilies, a couple framed pictures, and a bowl filled with various knickknacks -- quake for a moment before settling.
he grips his handgun tightly, turning off the safety, as he peers through the peephole, not really knowing who to expect. the hour is odd enough to warrant vigilance although very few criminals he knows -- and he knows a fair few -- actually knock before attacking.
the porch light is off but arthur can still make out who it is leaning against the door. really, he thinks. he should have guessed.
"i know you're in there, arthur!" eames shouts through the door when he doesn't open it right away.
arthur leans his head against one of the frosted glass panels, trying to decide which would be worse -- letting eames in and struggling to kick him out after or pretending he isn't awake when he knows that eames heard him crashing into the table. he jumps, startled, when the doorbell starts to ring throughout the house.
"fuck." he quickly opens the door and pulls eames in by the lapels of his horribly misshapen tweed jacket. "get in here and stop that noise."
eames leans against the front door, small traveling bag at his feet, and stares at arthur. he's wearing just a pair of wool socks and worn flannel pajama pants, frayed at the hem. his hair is loose and messy across his face, falling into his eyes. "i hope you understand that you're a difficult man to track down, arthur."
"i can't have this conversation now, eames. not now," arthur says, as he locks his gun away. eames just stares pointedly at him, however and crosses his arms over his broad chest. there are tired bruises under his eyes and his bottom lip looks more plump than usual, chapped and bitten red. but he looks as determined as arthur has ever seen him. arthur glances up the stairs anxiously before leading him to the living room off the foyer and sitting him on the sofa near to the fireplace. "it's almost three in the morning. what are you even doing here?"
"well, arthur, darling." eames says, voice clear and eyes surprisingly sharp in the dim light streaming through the white wooden shutters. "if you remember, we first worked together about -- what is it? -- nine years ago now. i called you precocious, you shot me in the head. we fucked in my hotel room and you were gone by the time i woke up." he pauses to take a fortifying breath before continuing, "i tried to find you then too, you should know.
"then you started working with cobb and mal and you became as stiff as those suits you started to wear. we talked after mal's funeral and you disappeared again. and again, after every job we worked together until the inception job last year.
"i thought everything was going well. then we had that job in prague a few weeks ago. and after everyone had left the warehouse, we, or rather you shoved me against the wall and kissed me within an inch of my life before scampering off, disappearing -- yet again, and leaving me cold."
arthur sits down heavily on the soft suede of his favorite armchair and rubs his eyes wearily with a clenched fist. "eames -- edward," he begins.
eames laughs, voice a bit rough and husky with exhaustion. "i always thought that you knew my given name. so how long have you known? from the very beginning, i'm guessing."
"of course," arthur says. "but eames," he pauses. "edward," he starts over again.
eames stops arthur speaking with a gentle, callused finger pressed against his lips. arthur's breath hitches in his chest. "nobody calls me edward, really. except for my mum on occasion. well, edward daniel," eames says, moving away slowly to slouch tiredly against a bunch of jade and coffee-brown cushions.
"so i should just call you eames then," arthur states, yawning. he looks around the room -- at the large fireplace, the coffee table with some wooden building blocks hiding beneath it, and the yamaha mahogany baby grand -- avoiding the man next to him. he looks out the windows to the oak tree just outside and the tree-lined road further away. no cars drive past. it's a quiet residential neighborhood after all and most people are already home and asleep in their beds.
"or daniel -- danny even." eames pauses, "yeah, i think i'd like that. if you'd call me that."
arthur nods, the movement sharp even as the rest of his body remains listless and fatigued, "okay. danny. it's three am. what are you even doing here now?"
"as i said before, arthur, you're a difficult man to track down. i went to three other addresses i'd had for you before this one. i'd consider your deviousness admirable except that i haven't had much sleep because of it. my flight here just got in a couple of hours ago. so here i am. and we need to talk."
arthur shakes his head as he stands up, rolling his shoulders and stretching his arms above his head, the long muscles of his torso. his pajama pants ride low on his hips and his toes curl into the soft fabric at the hem and the soft shaggy rug below his feet. he straightens slowly,. he acknowledges eames' stare but eames can't read the thoughts behind his gaze. "eames -- danny -- eames," he hesitates over the names, unsure. "i really can't about talk this here, okay? it's three am and we're both exhausted. and i just can't talk about this now."
"when then?" eames demands, also standing. "after our next job together whenever you'll allow that to happen?" his voice becomes louder with each word. "there's not a good track record on your account there, arthur considering the fact that the last time we had one of these talks, you kissed me then ran back here, leading me on -- what is it that you like to call it? -- a merry chase."
"oh god, please be quiet." arthur demands in a fierce whisper, slapping a hand over eames' mouth. "please just shut the fuck up right now, eames. we can talk about it in the morning, really just not now." but it's too late.
arthur hears a door opening, the shuffle of footsteps, and a few miserable coughs before a hoarse whisper. "daddy?"
she's standing at the top of the stairs, sniffling with her nose red and running. she's clutching her jellycat bunny named bradley in one arm and the banister in the other. arthur sighs, shoulders slumping further. he'd only managed to finally put her to bed less than an hour before.
he turns away from eames and avoids looking at the face that arthur just knows will be a covered with a look of shock and probably some amount of dawning horror. he climbs the stairs quickly and picks up his daughter, cradling her as she presses her feverish cheek against his chest, over his heart. "lottie, ma petite chou," he says, pressing his lips against her forehead. "you should be sleeping."
"i don't feel no good," she says, holding bradley up against her mouth and sniffling against his ears.
arthur reminds himself that he's going to need to get that stuffed bunny steam-cleaned when she's feeling better. "i don't feel well," arthur corrects, voice gentle.
charlotte nods. "i don't feel well, daddy," she repeats.
"i know, ma petite. and i'm sorry. if you don't feel any better in the morning, we'll go to see dr. anna, okay? but you, we, need to sleep for now. you can stay in my room with me." arthur looks down the stairs to where eames is standing but he's mostly in shadow and darkness. arthur can't make out his expression. he hasn't run out of the house yet though, arthur thinks with a little hope.
"who's that?" charlotte has followed his gaze and points at eames.
arthur holds her close for a moment before setting her down again. he grips on her pointing hand in draws it down. "pointing is impolite," he reminds her. "and that's a friend of mine, sweetheart. we were just talking. you'll --" he hesitates. "you'll probably meet him later, okay?" she nods. "now why don't you go to my room. do you want me to get you some juice before we go to bed? i think it's okay now for you to have a bit more medicine." her face screws up in disgust at the mention of medicine. before she can say anything though, he continues. "don't make that face, sweetheart. now let me ask which is worse: the medicine or being sick?"
she smiles and clutches his leg for a moment before heading to the master bedroom. "your logic is sound, daddy." he laughs and tousles her soft, dark curls as he watches her go before he heads down the stairs. he moves past eames into the kitchen.
he's not sure if he's surprised or not that eames doesn't just leave but follows him into the kitchen. he forgoes the oak table and comfortable seats in the breakfast nook and sits on a stool at the counter in order to watch arthur as he moves easily through the room. there's an awkward silence as arthur grabs the children's robitussin and pours some pomegranate and blueberry naked fruit juice into a plastic cup.
eames finally breaks the silence. "so that's your -- your daughter then?" he asks.
"yes, that's charlotte." arthur decides to take a moment for weakness and sits down beside eames, elbows on the counter and head held in his hands. eames watches his slim, pale fingers thread through his curls. "she's almost four."
eames nods although his expression remains carefully blank. "and you kept her secret all these years we've known each other." he laughs, the sound jarring. "although, i assume cobb knows and mal knew."
"i once had a team member try to sell me out to save his own skin. in fact, i've had more than one do so. so you should understand why i'd want to keep quiet about her. at least try to understand, eames."
"really now, darling?" eames says as he stands up, moving back towards the foyer. "that's how you're going to play this. i wasn't -- i'm not --"
a plaintive "daddy?" comes down the stairs and arthur immediately stands up, grabs the bottle and cup, and follows eames out the kitchen. eames is standing next to the front door, his hand on the handle although he's not opened it yet. arthur's hands are full so he leans against eames, weaving tiredly as he presses his face onto his arm. "listen, okay. it's late, i'm exhausted, you're exhausted, and she's sick. i know you want to talk about -- about prague and probably even before that. and we should but it'll have to wait until morning."
"fine then, i'll see you in the morn --" eames begins as he opens the door but before he can move to actually leave, arthur kicks it shut again.
"there's a spare room upstairs," he states simply as he walks up the hardwood stairs. "just lock the door for me, please -- both locks."
eames stays in the hallway as arthur walks into his room, leaving the door open. he listens as arthur quietly convinces his daughter to take her medicine and watches as he helps her drink her juice. afterwards, she lays down, clutching her bunny, and arthur quietly leaves the room.
he takes eames by the wrist and leads him around the curved hall to the next and last room on the right. "here's the guest bedroom." the room is like the rest of the house, tastefully decorated yet obviously meant to be comfortable. eames isn't sure if it's what he expected but he likes it all the same. the rugs on the wooden floor are so soft that eames feels as if his feet are sinking into them. he sees an antique desk in the back corner beside the window and there are some abstract paintings on the wall. however, the bed is the focus of the room. a canopy of heavy brocade and delicate lace hangs from the ceiling framing it and its cream luxury bedlinen and piles of cushions and pillows.
"it's a bit much." arthur says as he picks up the extra cushions and places them on the love seat at the foot of the bed. "my mother uses this room whenever she stays over to watch lottie but the sheets are clean so it should be fine." arthur hovers by the door, watching eames as he looks around. "the bathroom is the third door down and the linen closet is next to it. there should be a spare toothbrush in the cabinet if you don't have one. i'd offer you something to sleep in but i doubt i have anything that'll fit you."
"go to bed, darling," eames says, tracing a finger along the curve of arthur's jaw as he yawns before pushing him lightly into the hallway. "get some sleep. we'll talk in the morning. i'll be here."
as eames strips down to his trunks and slides into the bed, he feels a sense of relief, being in arthur's house with him just a room away and not running. the exhaustion of the past few weeks catches up to him as he easily falls asleep.
he wakes to sunlight streaming through the half-opened slats of the wooden shutters. it's early, probably around eight am, he guesses when he opens the shutters fully. eames yawns, rubbing his face and scratching at the scruff on his chin then his stomach, before putting on his jeans, grabbing his bag, and heading towards the bathroom.
he pauses though when he passes by arthur's room. the one half of the french doors is open and eames steps closer, peeking in. arthur's room is painted a calming shade of pastel lilac with a hint of blue. the back wall is a floor-to-ceiling bay window with a few armchairs and a love seat arranged into a pleasant sitting area. the four poster bed is against the right wall. the elaborate curtains are tied back and eames can see arthur half out from under the covers, the leg of his pajamas pushed up to his knee. charlotte is tucked into the crook of his arm and they are both still snuffling with sleep.
eames watches the two of them for a moment before going to take a quick shower and getting dressed for the day.
they're still asleep when he heads downstairs into the kitchen. eames roots through arthur's cupboards. he lets out a sound of disgust when the only kind of black tea he can find is lipton yellow label. he puts on the kettle for tea, muttering quietly to himself about pg tips and chocolate hobnobs. there's no teapot available so he pours the boiling water into a mug and lets the tea steep for a few minutes. he refuses to drink tea with milk poured on top so he just adds a teaspoon and an extra half of sugar.
there are sounds of movement coming from the stairs so eames makes a cappuccino using arthur's delonghi super automatic espresso machine that probably set him back a few thousand dollars. the drink is ready by the time arthur walks into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes. eames hands it to him and watches as he inhales the scent before taking his first hesitant sip, testing the temperature against his lips.
"thanks," he whispers, his voice still hoarse from sleep. they move to sit at the table by the east-facing window in the breakfast nook. arthur sits with his eyes closed, face turned towards the sun, and the cappuccino held close to his mouth.
eames watches him, looks at the damp tendrils of his hair and the water droplets soaking the neck and shoulders of his gray tee shirt. his feet are bare on the tile floor, peeking out from the ends of his worn jeans. "is charlotte feeling better then?" he asks when arthur finally opens his eyes and meets his gaze.
he smiles softly. "yeah," he says. "i took her temperature earlier. it's almost back to normal. i decided to let her sleep a bit longer though. it's been a tough few days."
the sit in silence for awhile but it's not as awkward as the night before. they both quietly sip their drinks.
"i'm sorry about not telling you about lottie before," arthur finally says, wringing his hands around his cappuccino. "i just never really knew how to and then i managed to convince myself that you wouldn't want to know her. and i, i just didn't want to introduce her to someone that would disappear from her life."
therein lies the foundation of their problem, eames thinks. "arthur, what on earth made you think i wouldn't want to know her?"
"eames -- daniel," he corrects himself when eames arches an eyebrow. "you have to admit that our relationship tended to be antagonistic at times. and well, after that first job in scotland--"
"oh no, you do not get to hold that night entirely against me. we both were involved in that, might i remind you." eames takes a fortifying sip of tea and winces at the lukewarm taste. he pushes the mug away. "also, charlotte wasn't even alive then, was she?"
"no, she wasn't. but it established the tone of our relationship, didn't it? you insulted me, teased and flirted with me but you did that with everyone. it never really meant anything."
"it never really meant anything with everyone else," eames interrupts, sharply.
arthur grips the hem of his shirt, wrinkling the fabric in a way he would never do to one of his suits. "i started to believe that but then my mother called and told me about charlotte and i just couldn't risk it. i suddenly had a baby to think about. and after the jobs we worked together you would go to places like mombasa or sana'a. or rio during carnaval."
"we still talked though, didn't we?"
"yes, of course we did. but that didn't change the fact that you lived and loved the type of life that you couldn't have if you were with me and a baby. then during the inception job. i just -- i got this feeling that you were serious."
eames smiles. "it was that first 'darling' that did it, wasn't it?" arthur sheepishly ducks his head, hair falling into his eyes as a slight tinge of pink appears on his face. "you having a daughter doesn't change the things that i love about you, darling," eames continues. "it just means that i have another part of you to know and learn to love as well."
arthur looks up at that last statement. his eyes are questioning but when eames nods a confirmation, a tentative smile spreads across his face.
there's a noise from the kitchen entrance and they look over to see charlotte standing there in her pink and white striped pajamas. she's rubbing her face sleepily in an action reminiscent of her father.
"good morning, lottie. you feeling better?" arthur asks, as he walks over to her and gently presses the back of his hand to her forehead.
she nods eagerly and says a soft "thanks" when her father hands her a plastic cup of milk.
"lottie sweetheart," arthur says, gesturing eames forward. "this is my friend, mr. eames."
eames takes a cautious step before kneeling down and extending his hand for her to shake. "hello, miss charlotte."
she's grinning brightly and eames imagines that it matches her father's. she giggles as eames wraps her tiny hand with his large, callused one and shakes it. then she says, "mr. eames?" she looks up at her father, questioningly. eames watches as the corners of arthur's mouth turn up, a dimple forming on his cheek as he gazes at her. charlotte takes it as confirmation before turning back to eames. her smile widens even as she says, voice as serious as her father's can be, "go to sleep, mr. eames!"
eames looks up at arthur, startled at her words and remembering all the times that arthur had said those words to him before he went under into the dreamspace -- or further into dreamspace as in the inception job.
charlotte laughs. "i told you he was real, daddy!"
arthur sighs, looking hesitantly at eames for a moment, a blush coloring his cheeks, before tapping his daughter gently on her nose twice and giving her a loud, wet kiss on her cheek. "i never said that he wasn't real, lottie, now did i?"
arthur lifts her into his arms, holding her against a slim hip. eames watches as their matching tousled curls blend as arthur presses another smacking kiss on her cheek. he follows it with a softer one as she giggles happily. heart pounding, eames leans towards them, a thumb tracing the exposed hollow of arthur's hip and the soft skin of charlotte's knee. arthur sighs and rests his head against eames' shoulder.
eames kisses the delicate, smooth skin at the base of arthur's neck and tugs gently on one of charlotte's stray curls.
they look at him with matching smiles and the three of them make breakfast together.
"so tell me darling, do you wish we'd fall in love?
all the time, all the time."
owl city. the saltwater room.
inception. eames/arthur. pg-13. 3678 words.
arthur has a little girl named charlotte.
for kla, who is awesome. ♥
inspired by this prompt at inception_kink.
the knocking begins just as arthur has finally managed to lay down in his bed. he groans and rubs his face against his cool pillow for a moment, before rolling onto his back and staring at the vaulted ceiling of his master bedroom. the sound is quiet enough that he can almost ignore it but just steady enough that he can't.
arthur looks at the clock shining 2:34 and pulls the duvet over his head. he hopes desperately that whoever is at the door will go away quickly when he doesn't answer. after all, it can't really be an emergency since his phone has been silent all night. but the noise continues, slowly growing louder.
arthur curses, quietly, as he gets out of bed. he stumbles blindly down the curved staircase to his front door. he's so exhausted that his socked feet slip a bit as he walks across the hardwood floor and he has to grip the foyer table to stay upright, wincing as the objects on it -- a delicate baccarat vega lamp and gingko crystal vase filled with fresh roses and lilies, a couple framed pictures, and a bowl filled with various knickknacks -- quake for a moment before settling.
he grips his handgun tightly, turning off the safety, as he peers through the peephole, not really knowing who to expect. the hour is odd enough to warrant vigilance although very few criminals he knows -- and he knows a fair few -- actually knock before attacking.
the porch light is off but arthur can still make out who it is leaning against the door. really, he thinks. he should have guessed.
"i know you're in there, arthur!" eames shouts through the door when he doesn't open it right away.
arthur leans his head against one of the frosted glass panels, trying to decide which would be worse -- letting eames in and struggling to kick him out after or pretending he isn't awake when he knows that eames heard him crashing into the table. he jumps, startled, when the doorbell starts to ring throughout the house.
"fuck." he quickly opens the door and pulls eames in by the lapels of his horribly misshapen tweed jacket. "get in here and stop that noise."
eames leans against the front door, small traveling bag at his feet, and stares at arthur. he's wearing just a pair of wool socks and worn flannel pajama pants, frayed at the hem. his hair is loose and messy across his face, falling into his eyes. "i hope you understand that you're a difficult man to track down, arthur."
"i can't have this conversation now, eames. not now," arthur says, as he locks his gun away. eames just stares pointedly at him, however and crosses his arms over his broad chest. there are tired bruises under his eyes and his bottom lip looks more plump than usual, chapped and bitten red. but he looks as determined as arthur has ever seen him. arthur glances up the stairs anxiously before leading him to the living room off the foyer and sitting him on the sofa near to the fireplace. "it's almost three in the morning. what are you even doing here?"
"well, arthur, darling." eames says, voice clear and eyes surprisingly sharp in the dim light streaming through the white wooden shutters. "if you remember, we first worked together about -- what is it? -- nine years ago now. i called you precocious, you shot me in the head. we fucked in my hotel room and you were gone by the time i woke up." he pauses to take a fortifying breath before continuing, "i tried to find you then too, you should know.
"then you started working with cobb and mal and you became as stiff as those suits you started to wear. we talked after mal's funeral and you disappeared again. and again, after every job we worked together until the inception job last year.
"i thought everything was going well. then we had that job in prague a few weeks ago. and after everyone had left the warehouse, we, or rather you shoved me against the wall and kissed me within an inch of my life before scampering off, disappearing -- yet again, and leaving me cold."
arthur sits down heavily on the soft suede of his favorite armchair and rubs his eyes wearily with a clenched fist. "eames -- edward," he begins.
eames laughs, voice a bit rough and husky with exhaustion. "i always thought that you knew my given name. so how long have you known? from the very beginning, i'm guessing."
"of course," arthur says. "but eames," he pauses. "edward," he starts over again.
eames stops arthur speaking with a gentle, callused finger pressed against his lips. arthur's breath hitches in his chest. "nobody calls me edward, really. except for my mum on occasion. well, edward daniel," eames says, moving away slowly to slouch tiredly against a bunch of jade and coffee-brown cushions.
"so i should just call you eames then," arthur states, yawning. he looks around the room -- at the large fireplace, the coffee table with some wooden building blocks hiding beneath it, and the yamaha mahogany baby grand -- avoiding the man next to him. he looks out the windows to the oak tree just outside and the tree-lined road further away. no cars drive past. it's a quiet residential neighborhood after all and most people are already home and asleep in their beds.
"or daniel -- danny even." eames pauses, "yeah, i think i'd like that. if you'd call me that."
arthur nods, the movement sharp even as the rest of his body remains listless and fatigued, "okay. danny. it's three am. what are you even doing here now?"
"as i said before, arthur, you're a difficult man to track down. i went to three other addresses i'd had for you before this one. i'd consider your deviousness admirable except that i haven't had much sleep because of it. my flight here just got in a couple of hours ago. so here i am. and we need to talk."
arthur shakes his head as he stands up, rolling his shoulders and stretching his arms above his head, the long muscles of his torso. his pajama pants ride low on his hips and his toes curl into the soft fabric at the hem and the soft shaggy rug below his feet. he straightens slowly,. he acknowledges eames' stare but eames can't read the thoughts behind his gaze. "eames -- danny -- eames," he hesitates over the names, unsure. "i really can't about talk this here, okay? it's three am and we're both exhausted. and i just can't talk about this now."
"when then?" eames demands, also standing. "after our next job together whenever you'll allow that to happen?" his voice becomes louder with each word. "there's not a good track record on your account there, arthur considering the fact that the last time we had one of these talks, you kissed me then ran back here, leading me on -- what is it that you like to call it? -- a merry chase."
"oh god, please be quiet." arthur demands in a fierce whisper, slapping a hand over eames' mouth. "please just shut the fuck up right now, eames. we can talk about it in the morning, really just not now." but it's too late.
arthur hears a door opening, the shuffle of footsteps, and a few miserable coughs before a hoarse whisper. "daddy?"
she's standing at the top of the stairs, sniffling with her nose red and running. she's clutching her jellycat bunny named bradley in one arm and the banister in the other. arthur sighs, shoulders slumping further. he'd only managed to finally put her to bed less than an hour before.
he turns away from eames and avoids looking at the face that arthur just knows will be a covered with a look of shock and probably some amount of dawning horror. he climbs the stairs quickly and picks up his daughter, cradling her as she presses her feverish cheek against his chest, over his heart. "lottie, ma petite chou," he says, pressing his lips against her forehead. "you should be sleeping."
"i don't feel no good," she says, holding bradley up against her mouth and sniffling against his ears.
arthur reminds himself that he's going to need to get that stuffed bunny steam-cleaned when she's feeling better. "i don't feel well," arthur corrects, voice gentle.
charlotte nods. "i don't feel well, daddy," she repeats.
"i know, ma petite. and i'm sorry. if you don't feel any better in the morning, we'll go to see dr. anna, okay? but you, we, need to sleep for now. you can stay in my room with me." arthur looks down the stairs to where eames is standing but he's mostly in shadow and darkness. arthur can't make out his expression. he hasn't run out of the house yet though, arthur thinks with a little hope.
"who's that?" charlotte has followed his gaze and points at eames.
arthur holds her close for a moment before setting her down again. he grips on her pointing hand in draws it down. "pointing is impolite," he reminds her. "and that's a friend of mine, sweetheart. we were just talking. you'll --" he hesitates. "you'll probably meet him later, okay?" she nods. "now why don't you go to my room. do you want me to get you some juice before we go to bed? i think it's okay now for you to have a bit more medicine." her face screws up in disgust at the mention of medicine. before she can say anything though, he continues. "don't make that face, sweetheart. now let me ask which is worse: the medicine or being sick?"
she smiles and clutches his leg for a moment before heading to the master bedroom. "your logic is sound, daddy." he laughs and tousles her soft, dark curls as he watches her go before he heads down the stairs. he moves past eames into the kitchen.
he's not sure if he's surprised or not that eames doesn't just leave but follows him into the kitchen. he forgoes the oak table and comfortable seats in the breakfast nook and sits on a stool at the counter in order to watch arthur as he moves easily through the room. there's an awkward silence as arthur grabs the children's robitussin and pours some pomegranate and blueberry naked fruit juice into a plastic cup.
eames finally breaks the silence. "so that's your -- your daughter then?" he asks.
"yes, that's charlotte." arthur decides to take a moment for weakness and sits down beside eames, elbows on the counter and head held in his hands. eames watches his slim, pale fingers thread through his curls. "she's almost four."
eames nods although his expression remains carefully blank. "and you kept her secret all these years we've known each other." he laughs, the sound jarring. "although, i assume cobb knows and mal knew."
"i once had a team member try to sell me out to save his own skin. in fact, i've had more than one do so. so you should understand why i'd want to keep quiet about her. at least try to understand, eames."
"really now, darling?" eames says as he stands up, moving back towards the foyer. "that's how you're going to play this. i wasn't -- i'm not --"
a plaintive "daddy?" comes down the stairs and arthur immediately stands up, grabs the bottle and cup, and follows eames out the kitchen. eames is standing next to the front door, his hand on the handle although he's not opened it yet. arthur's hands are full so he leans against eames, weaving tiredly as he presses his face onto his arm. "listen, okay. it's late, i'm exhausted, you're exhausted, and she's sick. i know you want to talk about -- about prague and probably even before that. and we should but it'll have to wait until morning."
"fine then, i'll see you in the morn --" eames begins as he opens the door but before he can move to actually leave, arthur kicks it shut again.
"there's a spare room upstairs," he states simply as he walks up the hardwood stairs. "just lock the door for me, please -- both locks."
eames stays in the hallway as arthur walks into his room, leaving the door open. he listens as arthur quietly convinces his daughter to take her medicine and watches as he helps her drink her juice. afterwards, she lays down, clutching her bunny, and arthur quietly leaves the room.
he takes eames by the wrist and leads him around the curved hall to the next and last room on the right. "here's the guest bedroom." the room is like the rest of the house, tastefully decorated yet obviously meant to be comfortable. eames isn't sure if it's what he expected but he likes it all the same. the rugs on the wooden floor are so soft that eames feels as if his feet are sinking into them. he sees an antique desk in the back corner beside the window and there are some abstract paintings on the wall. however, the bed is the focus of the room. a canopy of heavy brocade and delicate lace hangs from the ceiling framing it and its cream luxury bedlinen and piles of cushions and pillows.
"it's a bit much." arthur says as he picks up the extra cushions and places them on the love seat at the foot of the bed. "my mother uses this room whenever she stays over to watch lottie but the sheets are clean so it should be fine." arthur hovers by the door, watching eames as he looks around. "the bathroom is the third door down and the linen closet is next to it. there should be a spare toothbrush in the cabinet if you don't have one. i'd offer you something to sleep in but i doubt i have anything that'll fit you."
"go to bed, darling," eames says, tracing a finger along the curve of arthur's jaw as he yawns before pushing him lightly into the hallway. "get some sleep. we'll talk in the morning. i'll be here."
as eames strips down to his trunks and slides into the bed, he feels a sense of relief, being in arthur's house with him just a room away and not running. the exhaustion of the past few weeks catches up to him as he easily falls asleep.
he wakes to sunlight streaming through the half-opened slats of the wooden shutters. it's early, probably around eight am, he guesses when he opens the shutters fully. eames yawns, rubbing his face and scratching at the scruff on his chin then his stomach, before putting on his jeans, grabbing his bag, and heading towards the bathroom.
he pauses though when he passes by arthur's room. the one half of the french doors is open and eames steps closer, peeking in. arthur's room is painted a calming shade of pastel lilac with a hint of blue. the back wall is a floor-to-ceiling bay window with a few armchairs and a love seat arranged into a pleasant sitting area. the four poster bed is against the right wall. the elaborate curtains are tied back and eames can see arthur half out from under the covers, the leg of his pajamas pushed up to his knee. charlotte is tucked into the crook of his arm and they are both still snuffling with sleep.
eames watches the two of them for a moment before going to take a quick shower and getting dressed for the day.
they're still asleep when he heads downstairs into the kitchen. eames roots through arthur's cupboards. he lets out a sound of disgust when the only kind of black tea he can find is lipton yellow label. he puts on the kettle for tea, muttering quietly to himself about pg tips and chocolate hobnobs. there's no teapot available so he pours the boiling water into a mug and lets the tea steep for a few minutes. he refuses to drink tea with milk poured on top so he just adds a teaspoon and an extra half of sugar.
there are sounds of movement coming from the stairs so eames makes a cappuccino using arthur's delonghi super automatic espresso machine that probably set him back a few thousand dollars. the drink is ready by the time arthur walks into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes. eames hands it to him and watches as he inhales the scent before taking his first hesitant sip, testing the temperature against his lips.
"thanks," he whispers, his voice still hoarse from sleep. they move to sit at the table by the east-facing window in the breakfast nook. arthur sits with his eyes closed, face turned towards the sun, and the cappuccino held close to his mouth.
eames watches him, looks at the damp tendrils of his hair and the water droplets soaking the neck and shoulders of his gray tee shirt. his feet are bare on the tile floor, peeking out from the ends of his worn jeans. "is charlotte feeling better then?" he asks when arthur finally opens his eyes and meets his gaze.
he smiles softly. "yeah," he says. "i took her temperature earlier. it's almost back to normal. i decided to let her sleep a bit longer though. it's been a tough few days."
the sit in silence for awhile but it's not as awkward as the night before. they both quietly sip their drinks.
"i'm sorry about not telling you about lottie before," arthur finally says, wringing his hands around his cappuccino. "i just never really knew how to and then i managed to convince myself that you wouldn't want to know her. and i, i just didn't want to introduce her to someone that would disappear from her life."
therein lies the foundation of their problem, eames thinks. "arthur, what on earth made you think i wouldn't want to know her?"
"eames -- daniel," he corrects himself when eames arches an eyebrow. "you have to admit that our relationship tended to be antagonistic at times. and well, after that first job in scotland--"
"oh no, you do not get to hold that night entirely against me. we both were involved in that, might i remind you." eames takes a fortifying sip of tea and winces at the lukewarm taste. he pushes the mug away. "also, charlotte wasn't even alive then, was she?"
"no, she wasn't. but it established the tone of our relationship, didn't it? you insulted me, teased and flirted with me but you did that with everyone. it never really meant anything."
"it never really meant anything with everyone else," eames interrupts, sharply.
arthur grips the hem of his shirt, wrinkling the fabric in a way he would never do to one of his suits. "i started to believe that but then my mother called and told me about charlotte and i just couldn't risk it. i suddenly had a baby to think about. and after the jobs we worked together you would go to places like mombasa or sana'a. or rio during carnaval."
"we still talked though, didn't we?"
"yes, of course we did. but that didn't change the fact that you lived and loved the type of life that you couldn't have if you were with me and a baby. then during the inception job. i just -- i got this feeling that you were serious."
eames smiles. "it was that first 'darling' that did it, wasn't it?" arthur sheepishly ducks his head, hair falling into his eyes as a slight tinge of pink appears on his face. "you having a daughter doesn't change the things that i love about you, darling," eames continues. "it just means that i have another part of you to know and learn to love as well."
arthur looks up at that last statement. his eyes are questioning but when eames nods a confirmation, a tentative smile spreads across his face.
there's a noise from the kitchen entrance and they look over to see charlotte standing there in her pink and white striped pajamas. she's rubbing her face sleepily in an action reminiscent of her father.
"good morning, lottie. you feeling better?" arthur asks, as he walks over to her and gently presses the back of his hand to her forehead.
she nods eagerly and says a soft "thanks" when her father hands her a plastic cup of milk.
"lottie sweetheart," arthur says, gesturing eames forward. "this is my friend, mr. eames."
eames takes a cautious step before kneeling down and extending his hand for her to shake. "hello, miss charlotte."
she's grinning brightly and eames imagines that it matches her father's. she giggles as eames wraps her tiny hand with his large, callused one and shakes it. then she says, "mr. eames?" she looks up at her father, questioningly. eames watches as the corners of arthur's mouth turn up, a dimple forming on his cheek as he gazes at her. charlotte takes it as confirmation before turning back to eames. her smile widens even as she says, voice as serious as her father's can be, "go to sleep, mr. eames!"
eames looks up at arthur, startled at her words and remembering all the times that arthur had said those words to him before he went under into the dreamspace -- or further into dreamspace as in the inception job.
charlotte laughs. "i told you he was real, daddy!"
arthur sighs, looking hesitantly at eames for a moment, a blush coloring his cheeks, before tapping his daughter gently on her nose twice and giving her a loud, wet kiss on her cheek. "i never said that he wasn't real, lottie, now did i?"
arthur lifts her into his arms, holding her against a slim hip. eames watches as their matching tousled curls blend as arthur presses another smacking kiss on her cheek. he follows it with a softer one as she giggles happily. heart pounding, eames leans towards them, a thumb tracing the exposed hollow of arthur's hip and the soft skin of charlotte's knee. arthur sighs and rests his head against eames' shoulder.
eames kisses the delicate, smooth skin at the base of arthur's neck and tugs gently on one of charlotte's stray curls.
they look at him with matching smiles and the three of them make breakfast together.
"so tell me darling, do you wish we'd fall in love?
all the time, all the time."
owl city. the saltwater room.