Fic: Confess
Title: Confess
Author: kaitmaree77
Rating: PG -13
Fandom: Inception
Shipping: Arthur/Eames
Disclaimer: I WISH I had invented Inception. Sadly, Christopher Nolan was the genius. Who ruined my life.
Summary: For someone as artistic and imaginative as Eames, it is a wonder the two of them click.
Notes: This is my first Arthur/Eames fic, and whilst I’ve written other fics for this fandom nothing has been posted. So I’m incredibly nervous, I will admit. I do hope you like it. It’s mostly just a character exploration on Arthur. Only seen the movie twice. Hope it lives up to standard.
-
Arthur finds himself irrevocably entrenched in the world of subconscious fantasy before he has a moment to contemplate the consequences.
He knows Eames is right. He’s never been creative. Always been fascinated with the way things work, with the minute details of their existence but never in the ways they might be able to change them. He’s always struggled to contemplate the hypothetical, and because of this he finds himself even more alienated in a world of creativity and pure invention.
For someone as artistic and imaginative as Eames, it is a wonder the two of them click.
Eames with his frustratingly addictive accent and questionable taste in attire. The two of them, Arthur and Eames, are complete opposites. Arthur dressed in formal attire, hair slicked back and carrying an air of professionalism all the while Eames seem define what it means to be carefree.
Eames mocks Arthur and overindulges in terms of endearments like darling and love and Arthur could swear if the tone wasn’t so dripping with blatant condescension, at first, it might be something of affection.
Of course, as all things do in this world of pure imagination, their relationship begins to evolve. Suddenly care comes before condescension (though it’s never really gone.) Arthur wakes up in the warehouse moments before Ariadne and Cobb, and there is a moment - oh, just a moment, but something nonetheless - where there is only himself and Eames, and those damn eyes that just refuse to look away.
“Arthur,” he says one day, “Did you know that the mind explores its desires in our subconscious, everything we want in reality but can’t quite grasp ourselves?”
He turns back to Eames and swallows hard. “Of course, why?”
“Because you’ve been mumbling my name in your sleep.”
And then he smirks, and Arthur is torn yet again. He doesn’t know if Eames is pretending, and again he does not know what is real.
-
The first time Arthur performs an extraction, he wakes up feeling like he never wants to feel what he just has again. He feels immensely exhausted, and sore, and somehow inexplicably heartbroken from a grief he cannot quite explain.
Of course, like all addictions, he finds himself drawn back to this exact exhilaration.
It is the chase, the ability to escape, the ability to distract oneself from the chaos of society all the while making a living. He chases criminals and businessmen across oceans and the widest of plains, Cobb’s loyal colleague down to every painful yet harmless bullet in the leg.
He watches as colleagues come and go, some trustworthy but incapable of handling the pressure, and others who are tainted with deceit at their very core. It makes him tired, it makes him lonely. He watches as Cobb forms a family and then loses one, and he wonders whether he’ll ever even have a chance.
-
There is a day in which Arthur contemplates not coming to work. He has been dreaming. Uncontrolled. Just allowing his subconscious to do what it pleases, with no intention of extracting information or reinventing worlds.
He just dreams.
The event in itself is unusual, but the emotions felt are stranger more so. He feels like this is what life is meant to be. Out of one’s control. Unchangeable. Some clichéd analogy about fate and destiny, and the fact bad things are meant to happen and the realities of, well, reality.
He contemplates not going into work for the first time in a very long time. Considers not bothering returning, plugging himself into the PASIV and delving back into the worlds they make for themselves.
Of course, then he remembers Eames.
Somehow, every decision comes back to him.
-
“Arthur, darling,” Eames says as he stands over the Point-Man, watching his eyes flicker open and as he reaches to pull the IV from his arm.
“What? Was that really five minutes?” Arthur rubs his eyes.
Eames just nods, sitting beside him. “Well? Make any progress.”
“Of course not. We ran into Mal.”
“Ah, delightful.” He smirks. Evidently pleased he’s missed out on this particular confrontation.
Arthur shakes his head. “Don’t be so smug. You’re going in next time. And last time I checked, she’s feeling especially bitter.” He shifts to move off the seat, and walks over to check the timer on the device. “He’ll be out a few more minutes.”
“Mmm,” Eames says, turning to face Arthur. “So, confess.”
Arthur snorts, looking up from the device. “To what? Extraction? I’m afraid we’re in that mess together.”
“Oh, do stop pretending, won’t you? I’m the Forger, after all. You are the Point Man. To the point. Stop tiptoeing around.”
“I don’t know what you’re...”
“This case. It’s hitting home, isn’t it?”
Arthur looks up, sucking in a sharp breath. “Everything’s fine.”
“You’re thinking of quitting.”
“You know I’d never do that to Cobb-”
Eames shakes his head. “I didn’t say you would. I said you were considering it. You certainly didn’t seem ecstatic to go under today. So what is it?”
“Family things.” He admits.
“Family? You, Arthur? I could have sworn you were conceived in a lab with that range of emotions...”
Arthur glares. “Funny.”
“Please don’t quit.” Eames says. And then he is holding his hand and ducking in to kiss Arthur. It can’t take place over more than a few seconds, but time seems to stand surreally still. They pull apart and Arthur just sort of gapes and nods.
“Cobb will be waking up any moment now.” Eames says, stepping away as if nothing ever happened.
Author: kaitmaree77
Rating: PG -13
Fandom: Inception
Shipping: Arthur/Eames
Disclaimer: I WISH I had invented Inception. Sadly, Christopher Nolan was the genius. Who ruined my life.
Summary: For someone as artistic and imaginative as Eames, it is a wonder the two of them click.
Notes: This is my first Arthur/Eames fic, and whilst I’ve written other fics for this fandom nothing has been posted. So I’m incredibly nervous, I will admit. I do hope you like it. It’s mostly just a character exploration on Arthur. Only seen the movie twice. Hope it lives up to standard.
-
Arthur finds himself irrevocably entrenched in the world of subconscious fantasy before he has a moment to contemplate the consequences.
He knows Eames is right. He’s never been creative. Always been fascinated with the way things work, with the minute details of their existence but never in the ways they might be able to change them. He’s always struggled to contemplate the hypothetical, and because of this he finds himself even more alienated in a world of creativity and pure invention.
For someone as artistic and imaginative as Eames, it is a wonder the two of them click.
Eames with his frustratingly addictive accent and questionable taste in attire. The two of them, Arthur and Eames, are complete opposites. Arthur dressed in formal attire, hair slicked back and carrying an air of professionalism all the while Eames seem define what it means to be carefree.
Eames mocks Arthur and overindulges in terms of endearments like darling and love and Arthur could swear if the tone wasn’t so dripping with blatant condescension, at first, it might be something of affection.
Of course, as all things do in this world of pure imagination, their relationship begins to evolve. Suddenly care comes before condescension (though it’s never really gone.) Arthur wakes up in the warehouse moments before Ariadne and Cobb, and there is a moment - oh, just a moment, but something nonetheless - where there is only himself and Eames, and those damn eyes that just refuse to look away.
“Arthur,” he says one day, “Did you know that the mind explores its desires in our subconscious, everything we want in reality but can’t quite grasp ourselves?”
He turns back to Eames and swallows hard. “Of course, why?”
“Because you’ve been mumbling my name in your sleep.”
And then he smirks, and Arthur is torn yet again. He doesn’t know if Eames is pretending, and again he does not know what is real.
-
The first time Arthur performs an extraction, he wakes up feeling like he never wants to feel what he just has again. He feels immensely exhausted, and sore, and somehow inexplicably heartbroken from a grief he cannot quite explain.
Of course, like all addictions, he finds himself drawn back to this exact exhilaration.
It is the chase, the ability to escape, the ability to distract oneself from the chaos of society all the while making a living. He chases criminals and businessmen across oceans and the widest of plains, Cobb’s loyal colleague down to every painful yet harmless bullet in the leg.
He watches as colleagues come and go, some trustworthy but incapable of handling the pressure, and others who are tainted with deceit at their very core. It makes him tired, it makes him lonely. He watches as Cobb forms a family and then loses one, and he wonders whether he’ll ever even have a chance.
-
There is a day in which Arthur contemplates not coming to work. He has been dreaming. Uncontrolled. Just allowing his subconscious to do what it pleases, with no intention of extracting information or reinventing worlds.
He just dreams.
The event in itself is unusual, but the emotions felt are stranger more so. He feels like this is what life is meant to be. Out of one’s control. Unchangeable. Some clichéd analogy about fate and destiny, and the fact bad things are meant to happen and the realities of, well, reality.
He contemplates not going into work for the first time in a very long time. Considers not bothering returning, plugging himself into the PASIV and delving back into the worlds they make for themselves.
Of course, then he remembers Eames.
Somehow, every decision comes back to him.
-
“Arthur, darling,” Eames says as he stands over the Point-Man, watching his eyes flicker open and as he reaches to pull the IV from his arm.
“What? Was that really five minutes?” Arthur rubs his eyes.
Eames just nods, sitting beside him. “Well? Make any progress.”
“Of course not. We ran into Mal.”
“Ah, delightful.” He smirks. Evidently pleased he’s missed out on this particular confrontation.
Arthur shakes his head. “Don’t be so smug. You’re going in next time. And last time I checked, she’s feeling especially bitter.” He shifts to move off the seat, and walks over to check the timer on the device. “He’ll be out a few more minutes.”
“Mmm,” Eames says, turning to face Arthur. “So, confess.”
Arthur snorts, looking up from the device. “To what? Extraction? I’m afraid we’re in that mess together.”
“Oh, do stop pretending, won’t you? I’m the Forger, after all. You are the Point Man. To the point. Stop tiptoeing around.”
“I don’t know what you’re...”
“This case. It’s hitting home, isn’t it?”
Arthur looks up, sucking in a sharp breath. “Everything’s fine.”
“You’re thinking of quitting.”
“You know I’d never do that to Cobb-”
Eames shakes his head. “I didn’t say you would. I said you were considering it. You certainly didn’t seem ecstatic to go under today. So what is it?”
“Family things.” He admits.
“Family? You, Arthur? I could have sworn you were conceived in a lab with that range of emotions...”
Arthur glares. “Funny.”
“Please don’t quit.” Eames says. And then he is holding his hand and ducking in to kiss Arthur. It can’t take place over more than a few seconds, but time seems to stand surreally still. They pull apart and Arthur just sort of gapes and nods.
“Cobb will be waking up any moment now.” Eames says, stepping away as if nothing ever happened.