so, first off, this fic would have made me cry but luckily you didn't spend extended periods of time showing them in each others' absence.
you've taught me a new word: colloquy
this: They don't kiss at the doorway because they are not the kind of people, they are the kind who keep to separate sides of the bed, the kind who dance around each other and respond to phone calls three days late and drink expensive wine in bed while the other one checks his e-mail by the window.
and this: "From time to time, Eames visits whenever he flies stateside. " I love that you use that term because, yeah, it does remind me of what..Arthur(?) said to Cobb. Ass! Also, it means they speak similarly.
and also: "I like to work in a clean space." Arthur says, "Is there something wrong?"
"No," Eames says and bites back a smile when Arthur wipes the rings of moisture off the table.
"Eames." he says. "You're right on time." He's wearing a dark green coat in the middle of September and he hands Eames his suitcase without preamble.
and, finally:
They carry on like that, for awhile, intermittent like a tidal wave. They meet each other in various cities several times over the course of a year. They start returning each other's phonecalls and e-mails and build something resembling a life.
Eames sees it in the letters that pile on the bureau, in the space between the kitchen sink and the fridge where dust and spilled food have congealed on the tile. This is their life together, he thinks, and it is bewilderingly normal as it is bizarre. It's not going to get any better and it is not going to get any worse and Eames thinks maybe he can live with that.
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I love that this story is all about people traveling but then coming home to each other.
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Or you know, just be a fly on the wall of wherever they might be staying at the time. (But Arthur might kill me D:) BUT YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN.
LAHVED this <3
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you've taught me a new word: colloquy
this:
They don't kiss at the doorway because they are not the kind of people, they are the kind who keep to separate sides of the bed, the kind who dance around each other and respond to phone calls three days late and drink expensive wine in bed while the other one checks his e-mail by the window.
and this:
"From time to time, Eames visits whenever he flies stateside. " I love that you use that term because, yeah, it does remind me of what..Arthur(?) said to Cobb. Ass! Also, it means they speak similarly.
and also:
"I like to work in a clean space." Arthur says, "Is there something wrong?"
"No," Eames says and bites back a smile when Arthur wipes the rings of moisture off the table.
"No," he repeats. "Carry on."
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and also this:
"Eames." he says. "You're right on time." He's wearing a dark green coat in the middle of September and he hands Eames his suitcase without preamble.
and, finally:
They carry on like that, for awhile, intermittent like a tidal wave. They meet each other in various cities several times over the course of a year. They start returning each other's phonecalls and e-mails and build something resembling a life.
Eames sees it in the letters that pile on the bureau, in the space between the kitchen sink and the fridge where dust and spilled food have congealed on the tile. This is their life together, he thinks, and it is bewilderingly normal as it is bizarre. It's not going to get any better and it is not going to get any worse and Eames thinks maybe he can live with that.
:\
I love that this story is all about people traveling but then coming home to each other.
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