The line between professional and personal is occasionally blurred (1/1)
Title: The line between professional and personal is occasionally blurred
Rating: PG 13
Pairing: Arthur/Ariadne, mostly from Eames' POV
Disclaimer: Nolan owns, I borrow
Summary: It's not every day he sees Arthur tripped by a little girl and spanked by an old lady. Eames has to savour the moment.
Author's Note: Written in response to MY prompt at inception_kink that reads "Established couple. They have had a fight but are business in usual on the job. Until they go inside Ariadne's head to learn the layout. Her subconscious trips, smacks, basically annoys Arthur. Bonus points for Eames being there and being highly amused." Because apparently my fever won't let me work on My Dear Mrs. Dixon but will let me write a fill for one of my own prompts. Written while on cough medicine (not that that makes a difference).
This fight is epic.
As opposed to their usual bickering and tired spats, this one is a knock down drag out battle for superiority that doesn’t end when the alarm clock rings and the work day starts.
They do not regard each other as they change (because neither has really slept), eat and leave their apartment (cramped at the moment). They take separate methods of transportation (he a cab, she the metro), but manage to arrive moments apart.
With them comes a black cloud.
It doesn’t take Eames long to realize his co-workers are in the middle of a lovers’ quarrel. They act civil enough - Arthur inquiries as to the status of his updated layout; Ariadne seeks out advice regarding a favorite paradox of his. But underneath they are simmering. The frustration evident in their faces and body language is ready to boil over. Eames tries to prod and is presented with two different but equally terrifying prospects (a shoe up his ass, a punch to the balls).
Apparently, the two are professional enough to not take their anger out on each other but they have no problem firing it in his direction.
x
After three fun filled hours, Arthur suddenly announces that they need to go over the plan.
Under sedation.
x
Upon further reflection it probably isn’t the smartest idea to make Ariadne the subject.
x
Everything is normal at first (well, except that Ariadne steps closer to Eames than Arthur).
Arthur is carefully laying out the plan as they stand in Ariadne’s nearly flawless interpretation of Manhattan. Around them projections dressed in clothes of the slightly hipster persuasion pay no mind.
Yet.
x
However, once the stakes are clarified and the details are out of the way, things change. It’s subtle at first. A crowd of people get off a bus and one of them accidently bumps into Arthur. No one really thinks anything of it - especially when the scrawny teen apologizes.
The trio continue down Park Avenue (Eames squeezed in the middle and for once, not loving every second of it). Ariadne is playing with the ends of her scarf while Arthur tries to catch her eye. Eames glances at his watch - a minute left on the clock.
So in dream time, that gives them twelve tension filled minutes. Great.
He is actually considering suggesting they find a bar, knock a few back and hug it out. However before the words can leave his lips a projection of the female variety sidles up next to Arthur, swats him audibly upside the head. She doesn’t even glance back as she continues her path into a nearby bank.
Arthur stops short. Ariadne continues on.
Eames snickers.
Correction, twelve glorious minutes. Clearly, he has been given a front row seat to a passive aggressive showdown.
He says nothing as he waits for Arthur (who is rubbing a hand over the back of his neck and shooting daggers at his girlfriend). The duo walk slowly giving Ariadne wide berth. Arthur is more cautious now, eyeing the projections. Eames, on the other hand, feels safe.
He does consider telling Arthur about the small child poised to trip him but figures it will be more fun to watch Arthur fall at the hands of the pint sized demon. He watches as his friend (because yes, despite everything, they are friends) falls forward and the little girl giggles (rather manically actually) before disappearing into the growing crowd.
Because he has to, Eames leans over to help Arthur to his feet. He is a man on a mission now, pushing through the projections (who slap, kick and even pinch) to find the source of his anguish. Eames is given space and he can see Ariadne in the distance. She is admiring a streetlight (it has to be a cover because Ariadne, while proud of her work, is not into staring at bright shiny objects).
Arthur is heading right for her.
He is not going to make it.
Not with at least a dozen projections who look as if they have stumbled out of a meeting for PETA bearing down on him. Eames stops in his tracks when one (a rather stout elderly lady) actually tackles him. Arthur goes down.
Eames doesn’t snicker this time - he laughs. Loudly. Repeatedly. He draws the attention of several nearby projection but they regard him as nothing more than a passing curiosity before running off to join the fray (the fray being a dogpile with Arthur at the bottom yelping as someone pulls his hair).
Ariadne continues to stroll with apparently no care in the world (the fact that her boyfriend is trying to claw his way away from the elderly woman who is spanking him obviously does not register on her concern meter).
Eames wonders just why Arthur doesn’t turn to a page in his book of badassery. He has seen the other man win some amazing fights in some very sticky situations (a four on one scenario on the Tower Bridge immediately comes to mind). The fact that he almost passively lying there as a gangly teenage boy pokes him in the eye surely must be a testament to the depths of his love for the fair Ariadne.
Somewhere the faint strains of music touches the three of them. Eames considers helping Arthur out. Briefly. But to be honest, Eames is enjoying the sight. And he is sure that Arthur probably deserves it. Working with him can be tedious at times, living with him must be hell (Eames imagines there are labels on every drawer).
As the music winds down and the waking world looms over them, Arthur finally manages to fight off the crowd and looks a little worse for wear. His hair is mussed, his shirt is ripped and the tie (which matches his shoes of course) has been pulled loose. Ariadne is coming toward them, passing by Arthur (without even so much as a glance in his direction) to smile broadly at Eames.
For as long as he lives, Eames will remind Arthur of this moment.
x
Upon waking, it is business as usual.
There are no mentions of pokes to the eye or little old ladies with a mean right hook. Arthur suggests that they may need to make a few more changes to the layout to ensure that the mark truly get lost in the maze and Ariadne takes neat and concise notes.
Eames had expected some sort of passionate display. A fight, a declaration of remorse, a steamy kiss (because if Ariadne was his girlfriend and she had just pulled that sort of stunt she would find herself flat on her back on the nearest available surface). Instead he is treated to a rather mundane discussion on the shape of the sidewalk. Seriously, the shape of the sidewalk.
Frankly, Eames is disappointed.
x
The next day there is a bouquet of flowers at Ariadne’s work station. Not the standard dozen roses (because that would be too predictable and too easy; Arthur always likes a challenge), but a spray of brightly colored flowers in a variety of sizes. Eames thinks they are gaudy (but then again any romantic gesture is gaudy). Ariadne, however, seems genuinely surprised.
They kiss in the way that couples who fight but then realize how silly it all is do. Eames manages to stifle a groan and pretend he is interested in the rather boring life of their mark (who collects stamps anymore?). He keeps one ear turned in their direction and is rather disappointed to hear that they have decided that they can go to bed angry but they will never again go under angry.
Seriously, where is the fun in that?