buck up, they're coming.
stillness.
written for this prompt supposedly but it doesn't meet even half the requirements so i'm posting it here. gen. arthur/ariadne if you squint. arthur ruminates. ariadne dances. warnings for lowercase and courier new.
he sees her dancing in the kitchen with her t-shirt hiked up at the back and her hair flying across her face. he's never seen her like this before. her eyes are closed and her arms form an arc above her head. her hips are another thing altogether -- narrow, tiny almost, delineating into subtle curves that peek above the waistband of her drawstring pants.
the song on the stereo is fast and loud, a punch in the gut, da-da, da-da, da-da-da-da, the kind that beats down against arthur's ankles, making his eardrums shake. it overwhelms the room, the entire apartment, encompasses her like a glove as her body moves to the staccato beat.
arthur lingers in the doorway, resting his hip against the wall; he watches her dance. she's beautiful like this, he thinks. the air around her moves with her.
when she sees him there by the door, she startles completely, knocking her elbow into a row of books; arthur bends down to collect them from the floor, smiling apologetically.
"did i scare you?"
"no," she says, "not at all. that wasn't even remotely creepy."
arthur laughs. he helps himself to the sofa where a stack of women's magazines sit in a dusty pile. some of them are recent, some of them with letters missing from the headers, eyes and faces cut-out from the pages.
ariadne excuses herself to make tea, pulling her pants up her waist and tucking her feet into padded slippers.
arthur watches as she goes and listens to the soft clomp of her movements, the thudding of cabinets opening and closing, the unoiled hinges. finally after some minutes she appears by the doorway. she hands him a mug.
"it's chamomile tea. or are you a coffee person?"
"this is fine, thank you." the tea scalds arthur's tongue. he doesn't complain and puts the mug down on the coffee table, thinking about the ring it will leave against the polished surface.
"so, what brings you here to my side of the town? or are you just passing by?" ariadne asks.
arthur smiles. he likes her, he thinks. he liked her when they'd first met over a week ago but now he likes her even more, standing in the doorway, sipping her tea so unassuming and wide eyed, so eager. he remembers mal a little with her hair cropped short and her dark eyeshadow, the tender shape of her face. the way she stood with one hip cocked to the side. he remembers being twenty one.
"did cobb send you?"
arthur shrugs one shoulder, blinking out of his thoughts. "so conscientious of him," ariadne says, shaking her head. her eyes are soft like the streetlights reflected in the windows but then she drains her drink with a loud slurp and the spell is broken.
"let me change into something decent. i'll be just a minute. make yourself at home. but, you know, not too at home."
arthur doesn't touch his tea. it sits cooling on the coffee table, tea leaves swirling on the surface. he should've asked for sugar or milk. he doesn't drink tea. eames does. when his phone vibrates in his breastpocket, it's cobb, wanting to know what the hell's taking them so long. he doesn't reply.
the numbers on the clock indicate that it is late enough it's nearly morning. when he left the warehouse it was drizzling slightly, the sky dark and promising a storm. he thinks he can hear the rain falling now, the steady rush of traffic amplified by the fat pelt of raindrops.
if this crazy scheme pans out... he doesn't let his mind wander off into thoughts. arthur hunches forward, steepling his fingers. tea steam rises up his nose, perfuming his entire face. he breathes it in carefully and closes his eyes. when he opens them again ariadne is standing in front of him, peering down at him curiously.
"all set?" arthur asks.
ariadne nods.
when she locks the front door arthur says nothing about the accidental brush of their hands.