My Dear Mrs. Dixon (18/?)
Title: My Dear Mrs. Dixon
Rating: PG 15
Part: 18 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. I am still coughing but at least my fever is gone - stupid cold! Work sucks right now but I am plugging on through! I want to thank you all for being patient! I hope to be back to a more regular posting schedule soon! Here is some morning after fluff!
Ariadne is slow to wake, drifting in and out of consciousness. When she finally does manage to break through, it takes her a moment to realize just where she is. She sits up in the expansive bed, the sheet falling away. Funny - she remembers falling asleep on top of the covers. Eames. She looks to her left to find the bed empty but rumpled, evidence that he has once been there. She strains to hear any sign that he is nearby but is met with silence.
She crawls to the edge of the bed and places her feet on the cool floor. When she stands she becomes aware of just how tender parts of her are, although she finds it quite pleasant. She realizes she probably has a goofy grin on her face as she heads to the bathroom but she knows that nothing will shake it at this point.
It takes her a moment to figure out the intricacies of the shower but soon she is standing under a hot spray. She knows she should be thinking about the fact that Mr. and Mrs. Collins are scheduled to meet them in mere hours and she has to figure out what she is going to wear but she can’t help but relive the night. It seems like something she could only dream up - kissing him on the balcony with Paris looking on. Finally making love with him after so many frustrating near misses.
She stays lost in thought longer than she should and finally snaps out of it, reaching to turn off the water. When she opens the door she can’t help but cry out when she finds Eames standing there, towel in hand. “How long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough. Was that a moan that escaped your pretty little lips?” He asks as he wraps her in the fluffy towel. “Thinking of me, were you?”
“My my, if I had known that your ego would inflate this badly, I would have left you…hanging?” She finishes with a grin and then finds herself lifted off her feet. “You have to stop picking me up with no warning.”
“Bulk up a little and I just might,” Eames tells her before he angles his head to give her a kiss. It seems different now - now that they have gotten to know each other on a more intimate level. She pulls back; her fingers firmly entrenched in his hair and grins when he says, “Good morning.”
“Good morning to you too,” she retorts as he sets her on her own two feet again. She realizes for the first time that he is wearing a pair of khaki pants and light blue button down shirt. Casual but put together. “Where did you get those clothes?”
Eames gives her a grin. “A man like me never truly reveals all his sources.” He takes her arm and leads her out of the bathroom. “I can see the wheels in your head turning, dear Ariadne, and yes; I did manage to procure a suitable outfit for you as well.”
“Hmm, you and I haven’t exactly seen eye to eye when it comes to suitable clothing,” Ariadne reminds him as she crosses to the garment bag resting on the bed.
“Need I remind you that you were not wearing a bubble gum monstrosity last night,” Eames says.
She doesn’t respond, instead pulling down the zipper to reveal another black dress. She immediately makes a face as she pulls back the bag - it is more casual, a button up shirt dress complete with a belt at the waist. But still it is a dress.
“Oh come now, love, don’t look so wounded,” Eames coaxes as he picks a box off a nearby chair. A shoe sized box.
Ariadne steels herself as lifts the cover. Nestled inside is a pair of emerald green flats. She can’t help but laugh. “Okay, okay, you redeemed yourself there.”
“I have already spoken to the charming woman at the front desk and we will be dining in the suite. No distractions, just an up close and personal view with our new friends,” Eames tells her and she has a look of hesitation on her face. He must notice because he reaches out to touch her shoulder. “Ariadne?”
“Promise me that you won’t leave me alone with him,” she finds herself saying. No explanation needed. Eames nods and she lets some of the tension go. She glances at the clock and for the first time realizes just how late it is. Her eyes widen and she looks back at him. “Why did you let me sleep so long?”
“You looked as if you needed it. You didn’t even stir when I lifted you to put you under the covers last night,” Eames says as a grin slowly crosses his face. “Did I wear you out?”
Ariadne’s eyes narrow. “Hardly.”
He appears amused. “Is that so?”
“That wasn’t a challenge, Eames,” she tells him skirting his hands. “We don’t have time for you to stroke your ego.” Though, given the way he is looking at her now she is sorely tempted. She manages to grab the garment bag and dash into the bathroom, locking the door behind her. She can hear him slump against it.
“Oh, darling, you’re not playing fair,” he tells her.
“There is no time,” she repeats as she takes out the dress. She is warming up to it. She realizes that it is casual enough for her to be simple with her hair. And she will just have to go without makeup - which is no hardship for her. There is no Nadia to bail her out this time.
She dresses, emerging to find Eames thankfully gone. She heads for the terrace, a goal in mind. Piled on the railing are the pins Eames had pulled from her hair. She forces herself not to reminisce about how she felt to be in his arms and instead focuses on the task before her. With pins in hand she returns to the bathroom to fix her hair into something that resembles a chignon. It’s not perfect but she thinks she look presentable. A young woman enjoying her holiday with her husband.
She doesn’t find Eames in the sitting room either and wonders were he could have gotten off to. She spots a pile of pastries at the center of the glass table and, starving, immediately reaches the largest frosted one. She barely has a bite before an arm wraps around her waist and she is pulled flush against a hard body. She yelps, dropping the pastry and then turns her head to glare at him. “Playing hide and seek are we?”
“Actually I was just speaking with Collins. He and the lovely Vivian are on their way,” he explains. “Which is a shame because you look good enough to eat.”
Ariadne wants to point out that he can’t be putting his hands on her all the time but she wonders why. They aren’t dancing around each other anymore. She turns in his arms, places her hands on his chest, and smiles when she feels his heartbeat under her palm. “I could say the same about you. Too bad we have guests.”
“You’re going to keep doing that aren’t you?” Eames questions with a frown. “I am not going to be able to convince you that a quick shag against a wall is a good plan.”
Ariadne’s mouth goes a little slack as the image plays behind her eyes. “Um…” she finds her voice. “No.” She thinks he is amused at her reaction and when his head dips she tries to pull back. She could be so easily convinced.
He misses her lips. It takes her a moment to realize it is on purpose. His lips land at the corner of her mouth she feels the flick of his tongue against her skin. Her fingers clench into his shirt and she tries not to whimper when he pulls back. “Bit of frosting, love.”
When she pulls back again he releases her and she swipes at her face, knowing he has got it all already. She would like nothing more than to push him against the wall. Control, Ariadne, control. “I am going outside - see what the view is like in the daylight.” It is a paper thin excuse and she knows Eames sees right through it. She wonders just how torn he is between calling her on it and letting her pass.
Thankfully, he gives her a pass and she heads back to the terrace. She leans on the railing and overlooks the city she has grown so attached to. She is not taking anything in - not really. However, the cool air helps to clear her head of the lustful build up. It is all too apparent now that last night they opened a floodgate.
Right now Ariadne wishes she had a girlfriend, someone she could spill her guts to. Her line of work as left her with Arthur and Eames. And she can’t very well go to one about the other. She could only imagine how quickly Arthur’s head would explode if she began a conversation with “I’ve slept with Eames and now I am worried where this is all going while at the same time wanting to do it again and again and again…”
No, girl talk with Arthur is certainly out of the question.
She can imagine what her girlfriends would say if she had any. Never sleep with your co-workers. Never sleep with your friends. Never sleep with your co-worker friends…unless the sex is mind blowing. Before you sleep with your co-worker friends make sure you know exactly what it means…
Perhaps it is best that she doesn’t have girlfriends.
Still, without them, she is left with her own overly analytical brain. She wishes she could turn it off, at least for awhile, and enjoy what this new twist in their relationship has given her. Unfortunately, she knows it is impossible and the more he touches her, the more she will wonder.
“Aw hell,” she mutters to herself as she rests her chin on her hands.
“What’s that love?”
Ariadne turns swiftly, to see him standing there. He looks at her with concern for a moment and she shakes her head. “Nothing,” she lies and she knows he is not convinced. However, it appears that they do not have time because he is glancing over his shoulder. “They are here?” She questions knowingly.
He nods and extends his hand. She steps towards him, once again ready to take on the persona of Elizabeth Dixon.