KissBingo: Fic: A Drawer Full of Letters (Arthur/Eames)
Title: A Drawer Full of Letters
Prompt: emotion: jealousy
Medium: Fic
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Kissing, mild violence, one-time intense cussing.
Summary: Eames' reaches the boiling point, and decides that the way Cobb acts is simply inexcusable.
Disclaimer: I do not own Inception, or any of its fancy characters. Damn.
Author's Note: I DO LIKE COBB! xD I think he's a well-rounded character, pretty much, and has a lot of angst. However, for the sake of this fic... he needed to be a bit of an ass. I'm not a Cobb hater, though! :3
Dedication: Dedicated to Alfie (alifeofourown ) because she told me to do this prompt next. :3
When Eames went home, it wasn't to a brothel of ladies waiting for him on his bed, covered in rose petals and sexy music playing. In fact, it looked like a normal man's apartment. There were clothes lying on the floor as he casually took them off when he felt the need, uncleaned bowls and plates sitting out on tables (but not too many of those, just the previous night's) and looked completely average. Sometimes, when he came back from a hard day of living in someone else's shoes, it was nice to come home to a plain place that he could call his own. And something that made it very uniquely Eames, something he could cling to when he knew he was in reality and there was no kick to wake him up and a bullet in his brain would surely end badly, he would go to his desk, unlock the bottom drawer, which was filled with something no one would expect from Eames.
Countless letters and other short notes, all meant for one person: Arthur, the point man. It was like the man was his own personal diary; each recounting his day and his thoughts, but at the very end of the passage, it would get down to the basics. The one thing he would tell Arthur if it was the last thing he had to say to him:
"I love you."
Sometimes, the letters would be hate-filled, fueled by a particularly bad, jealousy-filled day. Other times, they would be long-winded and understanding. Most times, however, it would end with something simple and to the point; because by now, in his own perfect world, Arthur would be tired of all the times that three-worded phrase came out of Eames' mouth, directed right at him. In Eames' perfect world, Arthur would be able to know which 'I love you' spiel he was about to go on by the first sentence, and together, they could recite it.
In his own perfect world, Eames would even give up his own apartment, the one thing he clung to in reality, to live with Arthur if that was what he wanted. Because in Eames' perfect world, he would never need to remind himself of who he was by the apartment, because he would already have Arthur by his side; even when he was busy faking being someone else. And looking at Arthur right next to him would be all Eames needed to remind himself he was right where he was supposed to be.
He was with Arthur and Cobb on a mission; just the three of them. It was hell for Eames. Cobb was a recovering architect, no longer haunted by Mal's death. Usually they still had Ariadne as their architect, she was busy with her education and couldn't make this mission. They needed Eames for this mission, basically tacking him on as a third wheel. While Cobb was seemingly blind to it, Arthur followed him closer than a puppy; more like his very shadow. He, in his own way, would thrive off of Cobb's approval. He excelled at his job, going above and beyond what Cobb needed; watching him as he read his report, instantly sitting up straighter as Cobb's small smile appeared as he read an extra piece of information. Much to Eames' demise, now that Cobb was back on the team and able to go home to his kids, his smile was becoming something both Eames' and Arthur were seeing more and more.
It would have been different, Eames reasoned mentally, if Cobb was interested in Arthur. Cobb was blindingly straight, however, and all of Arthur's feelings would go unrequited. Eames knew he couldn't even call Arthur on it to try and snap him out of it, because Arthur would simply ask him if his mind was getting infected with his awful, sloppy habits. Eames would have liked to write it off as Cobb simply being a role-model for Arthur, someone the man idolized and looked up to rather than wanting to jump his bones. Eames couldn't bring himself to cloud his mind with such lies, though. He was fairly sure that if Arthur had a drawer full of love letters addressed to anyone, it would be Cobb; but more importantly, it would not be Eames.
On the job, it was a slow day. They were all at a stand still, but their employer had given them specific instructions to not try to infiltrate the mark's mind until two days in the future. Arthur had done was much as was possible for him, but he was going over the file once more, and Cobb was obviously getting stir crazy.
"Remind me why we keep meeting if we're going to sit around all day and do bloody nothing?" Eames asked to neither of them in particular, crumpling a piece of paper and throwing it towards a trash can, and missing.
"Pick that up," Arthur said without looking up from the file. "I won't have you messing up our shared working space because of your laziness." He peeked up from the file, his eyes flicking from Eames to the paper ball that was sitting on the floor.
Eames pushed himself out of his chair. "Don't get your knickers in a bunch, darling, I'll get it." He picked up the paper, placing it in the trash can. "Slam dunk," he said to himself, turning back towards the room. Cobb was focusing redrawing his layout for the dream. Eames noticed that Arthur's eyes occasionally strayed up from his paper, and right to Cobb. Eames could feel that same tightening in his gut and the yank on his heart; the feeling of envy. It annoyed him to no end that Cobb didn't even care that he had Arthur's heart in his careless, top-spinning hands.
About two more hours passed before Cobb snapped up from his seat. "Arthur, what is it?" He asked, his voice exhausted and tense.
"What's wrong, Cobb?" Arthur looked up, putting down the folder on his desk. "I assure you, I've got no idea what you're talking about." He sounded completely composed, even though Eames could only imagine what was really going on in his mind. Or what Eames assumed to be really going on in his mind.
"You tell me, Arthur. You're the one that keeps staring at me!" With Cobb's words, Arthur's eyes went wide, his mouth pinching into an even thinner line.
"Now Cobb, maybe you should go outside for a smoke break or somthin'--" Eames walked over to Cobb, offering him a cigarette. He didn't want it to go down like this. Cobb was supposed to play dumb for the rest of eternity. Who did he think he was, messing up Eames' internal plan like that?
"Eames, you stay out of this! I've noticed it for a while now. I don't know what Arthur's problem is with me, but if he's got one, he might as well come out with it!"
Arthur looked pale, the careful facade crumbling with each word. His mouth opened and closed a few times, words escaping him. It was painful for Eames to watch. It was as if someone was squeezing his heart in their spiky fist, fully intent on making it explode.
"Well, Arthur? What is it?"
Arthur shook his head, pinching his lips together once more. Eames turned to look at Cobb, who was opening his mouth to say something else, and Eames glared.
"Enough!" Eames snapped, pulling his arm back, and punching Cobb right in the face with everything that he was. Everything, on all of these missions, that he had to endure. Knowing that the one thing that would make him happiest was chasing after Cobb, who didn't even appreciate all that he had. Every bit of jealousy that Eames had to suffer through, knowing that there was a better chance of it snowing in hell than Arthur looking at him the way he looked at Cobb. Every single letter to Arthur in his drawer. And now, even though they were all bored out of their mind and all slightly nervous for the mission since it was Cobb's first back as an architect, here he was, taking prey on the one person who Eames cared about.
Who Eames fucking loved.
It was all packed into that one punch. To Eames' delight, there was a satisfying crunching sound upon impact--that came from Cobb's nose, not his own knuckles (though they were sore). He turned and walked over to Arthur, kneeling down so he was at eye level with the man who was sitting.
"Arthur, darling. Are you alright?" Eames placed a hand on each of his shoulders, looking into his eyes. Arthur's gaze darted from Eames' to Cobb. He was paler than ever, and looked dumbfounded.
"I'm guessing it's now or never, since Cobb is bound to kill me when he can get a handle on his pain." Eames let out a nervous chuckle before taking a deep breath. "Arthur, I didn't just punch one of my closest friends because he was being a douche. We've always dealt with it before. But this time, he went to far. Do you know why, pet?"
Arthur shook his head.
"Because he was attacking you. It was hitting to close to home. The person you worship, turning on you, yelling at you for no good reason." Eames was leaning forward with his words. The first kiss he landed on Arthur was on his forehead. "I know that sinking feeling, that feeling that's the worst. Although, I try to remember you have no idea what you're doing to me when we argue and it hits a bit close to home." He laid another two kisses on him, one on each cheek. "Because the truth is, Arthur, I love you. I love every single thing about you. Your eyes." He kissed each corner of Arthur's eyes, smiling to himself. "Your nose." He kissed it next. "And, of course; your lips."
With that, Eames took him in a slow, deep, kiss. Which to his surprise, Arthur deepened the kiss, wrapping his arms around Eames; pushing hard enough to take control of the kiss--which Eames always expected, always dreamed of, because it was only fitting Arthur tried to control a spontaneous kiss. It was just who he was.
And if Eames had to guess, the only reason why he was getting a kiss back at all was because Arthur had felt the fire-works when their lips connected, too.
Prompt: emotion: jealousy
Medium: Fic
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Kissing, mild violence, one-time intense cussing.
Summary: Eames' reaches the boiling point, and decides that the way Cobb acts is simply inexcusable.
Disclaimer: I do not own Inception, or any of its fancy characters. Damn.
Author's Note: I DO LIKE COBB! xD I think he's a well-rounded character, pretty much, and has a lot of angst. However, for the sake of this fic... he needed to be a bit of an ass. I'm not a Cobb hater, though! :3
Dedication: Dedicated to Alfie (alifeofourown ) because she told me to do this prompt next. :3
When Eames went home, it wasn't to a brothel of ladies waiting for him on his bed, covered in rose petals and sexy music playing. In fact, it looked like a normal man's apartment. There were clothes lying on the floor as he casually took them off when he felt the need, uncleaned bowls and plates sitting out on tables (but not too many of those, just the previous night's) and looked completely average. Sometimes, when he came back from a hard day of living in someone else's shoes, it was nice to come home to a plain place that he could call his own. And something that made it very uniquely Eames, something he could cling to when he knew he was in reality and there was no kick to wake him up and a bullet in his brain would surely end badly, he would go to his desk, unlock the bottom drawer, which was filled with something no one would expect from Eames.
Countless letters and other short notes, all meant for one person: Arthur, the point man. It was like the man was his own personal diary; each recounting his day and his thoughts, but at the very end of the passage, it would get down to the basics. The one thing he would tell Arthur if it was the last thing he had to say to him:
"I love you."
Sometimes, the letters would be hate-filled, fueled by a particularly bad, jealousy-filled day. Other times, they would be long-winded and understanding. Most times, however, it would end with something simple and to the point; because by now, in his own perfect world, Arthur would be tired of all the times that three-worded phrase came out of Eames' mouth, directed right at him. In Eames' perfect world, Arthur would be able to know which 'I love you' spiel he was about to go on by the first sentence, and together, they could recite it.
In his own perfect world, Eames would even give up his own apartment, the one thing he clung to in reality, to live with Arthur if that was what he wanted. Because in Eames' perfect world, he would never need to remind himself of who he was by the apartment, because he would already have Arthur by his side; even when he was busy faking being someone else. And looking at Arthur right next to him would be all Eames needed to remind himself he was right where he was supposed to be.
He was with Arthur and Cobb on a mission; just the three of them. It was hell for Eames. Cobb was a recovering architect, no longer haunted by Mal's death. Usually they still had Ariadne as their architect, she was busy with her education and couldn't make this mission. They needed Eames for this mission, basically tacking him on as a third wheel. While Cobb was seemingly blind to it, Arthur followed him closer than a puppy; more like his very shadow. He, in his own way, would thrive off of Cobb's approval. He excelled at his job, going above and beyond what Cobb needed; watching him as he read his report, instantly sitting up straighter as Cobb's small smile appeared as he read an extra piece of information. Much to Eames' demise, now that Cobb was back on the team and able to go home to his kids, his smile was becoming something both Eames' and Arthur were seeing more and more.
It would have been different, Eames reasoned mentally, if Cobb was interested in Arthur. Cobb was blindingly straight, however, and all of Arthur's feelings would go unrequited. Eames knew he couldn't even call Arthur on it to try and snap him out of it, because Arthur would simply ask him if his mind was getting infected with his awful, sloppy habits. Eames would have liked to write it off as Cobb simply being a role-model for Arthur, someone the man idolized and looked up to rather than wanting to jump his bones. Eames couldn't bring himself to cloud his mind with such lies, though. He was fairly sure that if Arthur had a drawer full of love letters addressed to anyone, it would be Cobb; but more importantly, it would not be Eames.
On the job, it was a slow day. They were all at a stand still, but their employer had given them specific instructions to not try to infiltrate the mark's mind until two days in the future. Arthur had done was much as was possible for him, but he was going over the file once more, and Cobb was obviously getting stir crazy.
"Remind me why we keep meeting if we're going to sit around all day and do bloody nothing?" Eames asked to neither of them in particular, crumpling a piece of paper and throwing it towards a trash can, and missing.
"Pick that up," Arthur said without looking up from the file. "I won't have you messing up our shared working space because of your laziness." He peeked up from the file, his eyes flicking from Eames to the paper ball that was sitting on the floor.
Eames pushed himself out of his chair. "Don't get your knickers in a bunch, darling, I'll get it." He picked up the paper, placing it in the trash can. "Slam dunk," he said to himself, turning back towards the room. Cobb was focusing redrawing his layout for the dream. Eames noticed that Arthur's eyes occasionally strayed up from his paper, and right to Cobb. Eames could feel that same tightening in his gut and the yank on his heart; the feeling of envy. It annoyed him to no end that Cobb didn't even care that he had Arthur's heart in his careless, top-spinning hands.
About two more hours passed before Cobb snapped up from his seat. "Arthur, what is it?" He asked, his voice exhausted and tense.
"What's wrong, Cobb?" Arthur looked up, putting down the folder on his desk. "I assure you, I've got no idea what you're talking about." He sounded completely composed, even though Eames could only imagine what was really going on in his mind. Or what Eames assumed to be really going on in his mind.
"You tell me, Arthur. You're the one that keeps staring at me!" With Cobb's words, Arthur's eyes went wide, his mouth pinching into an even thinner line.
"Now Cobb, maybe you should go outside for a smoke break or somthin'--" Eames walked over to Cobb, offering him a cigarette. He didn't want it to go down like this. Cobb was supposed to play dumb for the rest of eternity. Who did he think he was, messing up Eames' internal plan like that?
"Eames, you stay out of this! I've noticed it for a while now. I don't know what Arthur's problem is with me, but if he's got one, he might as well come out with it!"
Arthur looked pale, the careful facade crumbling with each word. His mouth opened and closed a few times, words escaping him. It was painful for Eames to watch. It was as if someone was squeezing his heart in their spiky fist, fully intent on making it explode.
"Well, Arthur? What is it?"
Arthur shook his head, pinching his lips together once more. Eames turned to look at Cobb, who was opening his mouth to say something else, and Eames glared.
"Enough!" Eames snapped, pulling his arm back, and punching Cobb right in the face with everything that he was. Everything, on all of these missions, that he had to endure. Knowing that the one thing that would make him happiest was chasing after Cobb, who didn't even appreciate all that he had. Every bit of jealousy that Eames had to suffer through, knowing that there was a better chance of it snowing in hell than Arthur looking at him the way he looked at Cobb. Every single letter to Arthur in his drawer. And now, even though they were all bored out of their mind and all slightly nervous for the mission since it was Cobb's first back as an architect, here he was, taking prey on the one person who Eames cared about.
Who Eames fucking loved.
It was all packed into that one punch. To Eames' delight, there was a satisfying crunching sound upon impact--that came from Cobb's nose, not his own knuckles (though they were sore). He turned and walked over to Arthur, kneeling down so he was at eye level with the man who was sitting.
"Arthur, darling. Are you alright?" Eames placed a hand on each of his shoulders, looking into his eyes. Arthur's gaze darted from Eames' to Cobb. He was paler than ever, and looked dumbfounded.
"I'm guessing it's now or never, since Cobb is bound to kill me when he can get a handle on his pain." Eames let out a nervous chuckle before taking a deep breath. "Arthur, I didn't just punch one of my closest friends because he was being a douche. We've always dealt with it before. But this time, he went to far. Do you know why, pet?"
Arthur shook his head.
"Because he was attacking you. It was hitting to close to home. The person you worship, turning on you, yelling at you for no good reason." Eames was leaning forward with his words. The first kiss he landed on Arthur was on his forehead. "I know that sinking feeling, that feeling that's the worst. Although, I try to remember you have no idea what you're doing to me when we argue and it hits a bit close to home." He laid another two kisses on him, one on each cheek. "Because the truth is, Arthur, I love you. I love every single thing about you. Your eyes." He kissed each corner of Arthur's eyes, smiling to himself. "Your nose." He kissed it next. "And, of course; your lips."
With that, Eames took him in a slow, deep, kiss. Which to his surprise, Arthur deepened the kiss, wrapping his arms around Eames; pushing hard enough to take control of the kiss--which Eames always expected, always dreamed of, because it was only fitting Arthur tried to control a spontaneous kiss. It was just who he was.
And if Eames had to guess, the only reason why he was getting a kiss back at all was because Arthur had felt the fire-works when their lips connected, too.