Wedding Cake
Title: Wedding Cake
Rating: pg-13
Summary: “No wedding is complete without cake.”
Notes : For an inception_kink prompt. Wedding Cake.
The atmosphere is bright and joyous, not a frown on any face. Ariadne’s father, Lawrence, is in the middle of a monologue about his daughter. He’s been talking for nearly a half an hour, but has only just finished telling a story about her tenth birthday. Ariadne knows he was only getting started. He’s a college English Professor, by right he could talk for years and not tire of his own voice.
The crowd in the large private room of the Hotel De Crillon, in Paris, is bigger than Ariadne had ever imagined it would be. Her mother has gone all out, no expense is spared. She commissions the finest china, crystal and flowers for the ballroom. She even hires an uppity, celebrity chef, for the occasion. There’s even a selection of hand crafted desserts Ariadne is sure was meant to be looked at and not touched. Thirteen different cakes, each an exquisite piece of art.
It’s more than Ariadne could have fathomed possible.
Lawrence begins telling a story about the time Ariadne had fallen out of the tree in their backyard, when Arthur leans over.
“Hey,” he whispers.
“Yes?” she whispers back, her eyes never leaving her father.
“Hey,” Arthur whispers again, poking her arm to get her attention.
“What?” She whispers back, smiling politely at her mother who arches an inquisitive eyebrow.
“Let’s get married tonight,” he says, obviously amused by his own suggestion. His lips quirk and a shadow of his dimples show.
Ariadne looks at him with a frozen smile, surprised. “Arthur, we’re getting married tomorrow.”
“I know that,” He says, turning to face her. Taking her hand in his own, he continues. “But, I also know you Ariadne. My mother and your mother have taken over this and turned it into their combined dream wedding. Let me finish,” Arthur whispers out of the corner of his mouth when Lawrence turns his attention to them. “I happen to know you did not want this. You did not want to be married in a church, no matter how beautiful the architecture, with two hundred of our parents’ closest friends. You want something simple.”
“Well, yes. But, it’s all planned Arthur, we can’t change it now. The day before.” Ariadne frowns. This is very much unlike Arthur. He likes structure, he likes following the rules so she knows he has something planned. The smile on his face isn’t entirely innocent and she knows she will be unable to refuse him of his grand idea.
Lawrence finishes his toast and the nameless faces in the room clap enthusiastically. Nearly two hours, and ten toasts later, they’re dancing.
“I have a confession to make,” Arthur whispers as he holds her close.
“Do I want to hear this?” Ariadne asks, as she peers up at him.
“A few weeks ago, I asked Cobb to become a registrar. You know, so he can officially marry us.”
Ariadne stops moving. “You did what?”
“It’ll be you and me, just the way we wanted it to be,” Arthur whispers in her ear and Ariadne can feel her resolve weakening.
“And Cobb apparently,” She whispers into the lapels of his pressed jacket and Arthur laughs.
“And Cobb. And our two witnesses.”
“Whose names just happen to be Eames and Yusuf?”
“Forget all of this Ariadne. The extravagant feasts, the overstuffed guest list … everything. It’s almost like being in our mothers’ dreams.” Ariadne frowns at this and immediately reaches for her totem, but Arthur doesn’t relinquish his hold on her hand. “I’ve already checked, this is entirely too real. I don’t want any of this and neither do you.”
“You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Absolutely. I have the place picked out, I’m ready, you’re ready. Let’s be spontaneous.”
“Except spontaneous isn’t in your vocabulary and you’ve been planning this for a while.”
He grins and Ariadne finds it incredibly difficult to refuse him anything. The idea of eloping on the night before their wedding is intoxicating and exciting and Ariadne knows the ceremony that will follow this grand dinner is nothing she wants. Arthur is right when he says it’s their mothers’ dream. It’s not what they want. Arthur likes simple and so does she.
“Well?” he prompts, taking her aside and out of the corners of her eyes, Ariadne sees Eames, Yusuf and Cobb eyeing them. They’re waiting for her answer almost as eagerly as Arthur is.
“Yes,” she nods and Arthur smiles at her. Nodding discreetly at the three men who raise their glasses to them, Arthur takes Ariadne’s hand in his own. Smiling down at her, he doesn’t look like the thirty-five year old man he is, but rather the twenty nine year old she met when she was only twenty-two. “What about tomorrow though? Will we show up and act like nothing’s amiss?”
“Yes. It’ll be yet another secret you and I share.” Ariadne smiles and lets him lead her out of the hotel, the back way. She feels a rush of excitement and adoration for the man next to her.
An hour later, they stand in the old, abandoned warehouse where their relationship started. Cobb clears his throat loudly and begins. Yusuf, who’s only slightly drunk and slightly giggly, serves as Arthur’s best man and Eames is proud to be Ariadne’s man of honor. Ariadne wears the dress she wore to the rehearsal dinner and Arthur stands next to her, looking as pristine as ever.
When Cobb pronounces them man and wife, Arthur leans close. “Quick, give me a kiss.” And Ariadne follows his order, as obediently as she did six years ago.
Eames whistles and claps, Yusuf wipes a tear away and Cobb smiles proudly.
“Wait, wait, wait, darlings,” Eames calls all the attention in the room to himself when the newlyweds finally part. Reaching into a special compartment of his jacket, Ariadne suspects Cobb makes him wear -for it looks nothing like what Eames would normally wear- he pulls out a small, delicately wrapped package. “No wedding is complete without cake.”
Rating: pg-13
Summary: “No wedding is complete without cake.”
Notes : For an inception_kink prompt. Wedding Cake.
The atmosphere is bright and joyous, not a frown on any face. Ariadne’s father, Lawrence, is in the middle of a monologue about his daughter. He’s been talking for nearly a half an hour, but has only just finished telling a story about her tenth birthday. Ariadne knows he was only getting started. He’s a college English Professor, by right he could talk for years and not tire of his own voice.
The crowd in the large private room of the Hotel De Crillon, in Paris, is bigger than Ariadne had ever imagined it would be. Her mother has gone all out, no expense is spared. She commissions the finest china, crystal and flowers for the ballroom. She even hires an uppity, celebrity chef, for the occasion. There’s even a selection of hand crafted desserts Ariadne is sure was meant to be looked at and not touched. Thirteen different cakes, each an exquisite piece of art.
It’s more than Ariadne could have fathomed possible.
Lawrence begins telling a story about the time Ariadne had fallen out of the tree in their backyard, when Arthur leans over.
“Hey,” he whispers.
“Yes?” she whispers back, her eyes never leaving her father.
“Hey,” Arthur whispers again, poking her arm to get her attention.
“What?” She whispers back, smiling politely at her mother who arches an inquisitive eyebrow.
“Let’s get married tonight,” he says, obviously amused by his own suggestion. His lips quirk and a shadow of his dimples show.
Ariadne looks at him with a frozen smile, surprised. “Arthur, we’re getting married tomorrow.”
“I know that,” He says, turning to face her. Taking her hand in his own, he continues. “But, I also know you Ariadne. My mother and your mother have taken over this and turned it into their combined dream wedding. Let me finish,” Arthur whispers out of the corner of his mouth when Lawrence turns his attention to them. “I happen to know you did not want this. You did not want to be married in a church, no matter how beautiful the architecture, with two hundred of our parents’ closest friends. You want something simple.”
“Well, yes. But, it’s all planned Arthur, we can’t change it now. The day before.” Ariadne frowns. This is very much unlike Arthur. He likes structure, he likes following the rules so she knows he has something planned. The smile on his face isn’t entirely innocent and she knows she will be unable to refuse him of his grand idea.
Lawrence finishes his toast and the nameless faces in the room clap enthusiastically. Nearly two hours, and ten toasts later, they’re dancing.
“I have a confession to make,” Arthur whispers as he holds her close.
“Do I want to hear this?” Ariadne asks, as she peers up at him.
“A few weeks ago, I asked Cobb to become a registrar. You know, so he can officially marry us.”
Ariadne stops moving. “You did what?”
“It’ll be you and me, just the way we wanted it to be,” Arthur whispers in her ear and Ariadne can feel her resolve weakening.
“And Cobb apparently,” She whispers into the lapels of his pressed jacket and Arthur laughs.
“And Cobb. And our two witnesses.”
“Whose names just happen to be Eames and Yusuf?”
“Forget all of this Ariadne. The extravagant feasts, the overstuffed guest list … everything. It’s almost like being in our mothers’ dreams.” Ariadne frowns at this and immediately reaches for her totem, but Arthur doesn’t relinquish his hold on her hand. “I’ve already checked, this is entirely too real. I don’t want any of this and neither do you.”
“You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Absolutely. I have the place picked out, I’m ready, you’re ready. Let’s be spontaneous.”
“Except spontaneous isn’t in your vocabulary and you’ve been planning this for a while.”
He grins and Ariadne finds it incredibly difficult to refuse him anything. The idea of eloping on the night before their wedding is intoxicating and exciting and Ariadne knows the ceremony that will follow this grand dinner is nothing she wants. Arthur is right when he says it’s their mothers’ dream. It’s not what they want. Arthur likes simple and so does she.
“Well?” he prompts, taking her aside and out of the corners of her eyes, Ariadne sees Eames, Yusuf and Cobb eyeing them. They’re waiting for her answer almost as eagerly as Arthur is.
“Yes,” she nods and Arthur smiles at her. Nodding discreetly at the three men who raise their glasses to them, Arthur takes Ariadne’s hand in his own. Smiling down at her, he doesn’t look like the thirty-five year old man he is, but rather the twenty nine year old she met when she was only twenty-two. “What about tomorrow though? Will we show up and act like nothing’s amiss?”
“Yes. It’ll be yet another secret you and I share.” Ariadne smiles and lets him lead her out of the hotel, the back way. She feels a rush of excitement and adoration for the man next to her.
An hour later, they stand in the old, abandoned warehouse where their relationship started. Cobb clears his throat loudly and begins. Yusuf, who’s only slightly drunk and slightly giggly, serves as Arthur’s best man and Eames is proud to be Ariadne’s man of honor. Ariadne wears the dress she wore to the rehearsal dinner and Arthur stands next to her, looking as pristine as ever.
When Cobb pronounces them man and wife, Arthur leans close. “Quick, give me a kiss.” And Ariadne follows his order, as obediently as she did six years ago.
Eames whistles and claps, Yusuf wipes a tear away and Cobb smiles proudly.
“Wait, wait, wait, darlings,” Eames calls all the attention in the room to himself when the newlyweds finally part. Reaching into a special compartment of his jacket, Ariadne suspects Cobb makes him wear -for it looks nothing like what Eames would normally wear- he pulls out a small, delicately wrapped package. “No wedding is complete without cake.”