My Dear Mrs. Dixon (13/?)

Sep 04, 2010 01:13


Title: My Dear Mrs. Dixon
Rating: PG 13
Part:  13 of ?
Pairing:  Eames/Ariadne
Disclaimer:  I am just playing with Nolan's toys  
Summary: The only sensible solution to their current problem is to get 'married' of course!
Author's Note: Written in response to a prompt at inception_kink that called for Ariadne and Eames to go undercover as a couple for a job.  Survived the first week of back to work - now it's time to survive the hurricane hitting early this morning...hopefully I am not without power because I wanted to spend some time working on my little tale this weekend!   Also saltagain made a lovely fanart based on this fic. You can find it here. You should all visit - it is cute (and features Eames with an untied bowtie, ahem!). Thank you to saltagain


She is experiencing another first.

Ariadne leans back into the soft leather of the seat and turns to look at Eames. “A limo?” She says, running her hand over the seats. She has the urge to play with the buttons lining the console near her but thankfully resists it.

“Mr. and Mrs. Dixon arrive in style of course,” Eames tells her. He scoots a little closer to her. Although the gesture is somewhat intimate his tone is all business. “When we arrive, we are going to mingle, not seek them out. Martin Collins is going to want to meet me of course - but we will let him come to us. He’ll bring along his dear wife. The more I get to see them interact the better.”

Ariadne nods. “If Collins is as grateful to Dixon as you say I am sure that you will have plenty of chances.” She hopes that Martin Collins is fixed on Eames…on Ambrose. She is confident enough to walk in on his arm, hopefully exude an air of belonging, but she worries what she will say in prolonged conversations. She turns her head to watch the streets of Paris speed by through tinted glass. “Eames, I know I can do this…but my nerves…” She trails off when she feels his hand on her chin. He slowly turns her head to meet his eyes.

“Love, if you weren’t nervous, I’d be worried. Having too much confidence can make one sloppy. I wouldn’t have asked this if you if I didn’t think you could do it,” Eames’ head is dipping, and her eyes fall to his lips. For a moment she thinks he is going to kiss her, and she knows she will welcome it. But he pulls back abruptly, leaving her wishing she had closed the space instead. He is fumbling in his pocket and pulls out a box. “I almost forgot…” He trails off as he pops it open to reveal two silver bands littered with diamonds.

“Good Lord,” Ariadne manages. He is reaching for her hand and she gives it to him and watches as he slips the ring on. It’s a little loose but she knows it won’t fall off. She pulls her hand back to admire it as he places on his own. “Are those real?”

Eames chuckles, “Of course they are real.”

Ariadne can’t imagine the cost of them. Each job is an investment - and they always get more than what they put into it but she is beginning to wonder if this will be the one time when they don’t.   Her face must be betraying her inner thoughts because Eames is leaning closer again. “I found them in a pawn shop.”

Ariadne makes a face, and suddenly the ring has lost a bit of its luster. “I am wearing the remnants of someone’s broken marriage.”

“Unfortunately it is the most practical solution,” Eames tells her.   He catches her hand again and presses a kiss to the back of it. She can’t help but react, as she always seems to do now when he touches her. Her stomach clenches and she is sure her skin tinges pink. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything, instead letting her hand fall back to its resting place on her lap.

The limo turns off the main road and Ariadne turns her head away to catch a glimpse of the Collins’ estate. She knows the outside well enough now - having studied it for recreation.   Face to face with the real thing she thinks it seems bigger somehow. All that space for just two people. “What a waste,” she mutters.

“Mmm, darling?” Eames asks. She turns in time to see him pull out a thick ivory envelope from his jacket’s inner pocket. Written in beautiful handwriting are the words ‘Mr. & Mrs. Dixon’. He looks at her expectantly and she just shakes her head.

“Nothing,” she assures him as the limo comes to stop. She takes a deep breath and reaches for the door handle. However, he stops her exit by placing a hand on her shoulder. “Eames?”

“I want you to know that no matter what happens in there, I will be forever grateful that you agreed to do this,” Eames tells her. And this time he does kiss her. It’s short but sweet enough to have her melting against him. She is reluctant to pull back, only doing so when the door of the limo is opened by someone she assumes has been paid to stand there for that express purpose.

Ariadne looks up, knowing her skin is slightly flushed, but not caring. She takes the offered hand of the man in uniform and steps out of the car with as much grace as she can muster. She waits as Eames slides out, smiles, and places her arm through his. Together they walk up the front stairs and she is not surprised to find someone stationed at the door. Eames hands him the envelope and for a moment she is tense as the attendant scans it. What if Mr. and Mrs. Dixon are already inside? What if the Collins had some how found out about the entire thing? What if, what if, what if…

But of course no such things have happened. They are admitted and Eames is politely thanking the man before they step inside. Despite having seen photos of the interior of the house, she is dazzled by the brightness of it all. The large foyer is lit up by a massive chandelier that is reflecting light off the marble surface of the floor. “Good God,” she mutters and Eames chuckles before giving her a pointed look. She understands - no sense in being in awe of it all - the Dixon’s probably have a larger chandelier in a larger foyer.

Ariadne can hear music drifting from off to her left and supposes that is the direction they are to head. She allows her ‘husband’ to lead her, taking everything in silently now. A picture here, a lamp there - things she will want to add to the layout to make it seem that much more real to Martin Collins.

They find themselves standing in the doorway of a rather large room. It is already filling up with what Ariadne assumes is the who’s who of the European social scene. There are tables where some are gathered, and what she guesses is a designated dance floor if the couples pressed together swaying the music are any indication. “I don’t even know where to begin,” she whispers as she takes it all in.

“Lucky for you, you married me,” Eames tells her with smile as he guides her into the room. He immediately starts shaking hands, exchanging greetings like he has known these people all his life. She stands back a little, watching as he easily slips into the role of someone vastly superior to those he is surrounded by. She is a bit overwhelmed and finds herself instinctively reaching out for his hand. He stops to glance back and then pulls her toward him, fitting her against him. “And this marvelous creature is my wife Elizabeth.”

Ariadne is aware that there are many eyes on her. She can feel Eames give her arm an encouraging squeeze and smiles. “Don’t let my husband fool you with his words. I am most definitely the brains of this operation,” she says with a small smile. She glances at her ‘husband’ to see he is looking at her with amusement clear on his face. “Very nice to meet you all.” And then she is shaking hands, accepting kisses pressed to her cheek.

Thankfully Eames extracts her before she gets swarmed too much. “Excuse us,” he says politely as he tucks her arm under his. They are out of earshot of the crowd before he leans in and speaks. “Feeling better?”

“Much,” she assures him as she thinks that perhaps she can fit in here. They aren’t as scary as she has made them out to be. “Now what?”

“We wait,” Eames tells her. “Those fools will pass along the word that we are here and I suspect Mr. Collins will seek us out. Until then, champagne?”

“I don’t know if that is such a good idea,” Ariadne tells him. “Light weight, remember?”

“Surely a few sips won’t knock you on your ass,” Eames says as he lets go of her arm so he can take two glasses of the bubbly liquid from a passing server. He hands her one and then tips his own glass towards her. “Cheers.”

“Cheers,” she echoes touching her glass to his. She takes a sip and knows that she could easily down the entire contents. But she won’t. She needs to keep a clear head - stay sharp and on her toes. She takes a moment to glance around the room. “I can’t take you anywhere…” she begins quietly, noticing a trend among some of the female guests. “…without having females stare not so subtly at you.”

Eames tilts his as if he is considering her words. A half smile appears on his face and he leans forward a little. “Is that jealously I am detecting?” He sees her stifle a bit and reaches out with his free hand to pull her closer. “You wear it very well, darling.”

Ariadne narrows her eyes, albeit playfully. “I suppose you enjoy having numerous women beating down your door.”

“No, not really. It’s rather hard to keep names straight and there is always the fear that they will pass each other in the sitting room,” He laughs when she narrows her eyes further. “Oh come now, Ariadne, you know I am joking.”

She takes another sip of her champagne and makes a face. “Ambrose darling, who is this Ariadne that you speak of?”

“Cheeky girl,” Eames chuckles. His hands move to rest on her hips and she allows herself to be pressed against him. She holds out the almost full glass to a waiter who takes it as he walks by. “Feeling snockered already?”

“No, completely sober. I would like to stay that way,” she tells him. “After all, how many times do I get to enjoy a night out with a handsome man?” She feels him still against her.

“Are you flirting with me?” He asks quietly.

Given the look in his eyes, Ariadne forms her answer carefully. “You’re my husband. Should I be flirting with someone else?”

It takes a moment but a grin slowly spreads across his face. He leans forward so his lips are brushing the delicate shell of her ear. “I wouldn’t advise it,” he tells her, his voice barely above a whisper. It tickles her skin and she can’t help but shiver. Her eyes widen slightly when Eames nuzzles at her neck, her body reacting immediately. Somewhere in the back of her mind warning signals are going off with flourish and before she gets the chance to decide whether or not to ignore them she hears a booming male voice.

“Ambrose Dixon!”

They part reluctantly and Ariadne glances over to see Martin Collins headed in their direction.

miss dixon, inception, fanfic, eames/ariadne

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