KissBingo: Fic: Peace Treaty (Arthur/Eames)
Title: Peace Treaty
Prompt: time: twentieth
Medium: Fic
Rating: PG
Warnings: Kissing.
Summary: Eames doesn't know why Arthur is avoiding him like the plague, but he's going to find out.
Disclaimer: I do not own Inception, or any of its fancy characters. Damn.
Author's Note: This is a long time coming after a bit of a hiatus, a very small one. Part Two of this fic, which I wrote earlier this summer.
Dedication: alifeofourown
"Did you complete the mission?" Arthur asked, locking eyes with Cobb, who nodded. Yusuf went to go gather the mark, who he quickly slipped another liquid sedative before he could fully wake up before he noticed what was going on, moving him back to the van to drop him off at his car, where they had picked him up (the power of chloroform saved the team many times).
"Everything went well. Yusuf told us of what happened; I'm sorry I sent you into that."
"I told you it was a bloody stupid idea, Cobb." Eames muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets, looking down at the ground. Arthur only noticed out of the corner of his eye.
"The mission got completed, Eames. Who knew what would have happened if we didn't send them down that alley?" Cobb retorted, eyes following Eames as he helped Arthur pull the cords back to the PASIV.
"Oh, I don't know. We save Arthur some serious pain and fulfill the mission with a full team, and also not by the skin of our teeth?" Eames said bitterly, handing Arthur the cords he collected. The leaner man nodded his thanks to him, clicking the PASIV shut. He stood there for a moment, wondering why it had taken him this long to register that their hands had brushed when Eames had given him the cords to the passive. He wondered further why his pulse didn't increase, like it did before when he had simply laid eyes on Eames. He sighed ever so slightly before turning back to the team, PASIV in his grip.
"The mission is over and completed, Mr. Eames, there's no need for belly aching," Arthur stated simply. "I believe it's been a long day for all of us."
"Belly aching, pet? I don't believe I was. I do believe I was defending you." Eames glanced to Arthur, his jaw set tight.
"Please, do hesitate to defend me next time. I don't need your protection." Arthur turned away from his gaze, content with the fact that his brain won. He was no longer going to have to suffer through the distraction of Eames. Eames was like anyone else to him now; just a passer by on the street. He would never know of the stolen kiss, and that was the way Arthur liked it. It was more like the way Arthur needed it to be. It had been his closure, and he could set his eyes on the goal; the goal of being the best point man in history.
Four months passed before Cobb came to them with another mission. Arthur had been spending that time back at home; getting a few new suits and upgrading all of his technology. It was their third day on the job when Arthur couldn't shake that feeling of being watched. He looked up, glancing around, but just seeing everyone focusing on what they were doing. Maybe it was Yusuf's cat in the corner, who hopped off of Yusuf's desk to venture behind the boxes in the corner, looking for something.
Arthur held his breath for a moment, eyes lingering at the boxes. The feeling didn't shake. He tried to ignore it still and went back to work.
That night, he had been working late. He was never one to break just because the sun set if he was on a roll. Even if his stomach rumbled, he ignored it as best he could, trying to keep the gears in his brain turning; one thought bleeding into another, back tracking, remembering the information forwards, backwards, even upside down.
"Love, don't you think it's time to eat?" A voice sounded, startling Arthur. He looked up, and there was Eames. He hesitated a moment. There was no pitter-patter of his heart. His body wasn't reacting. His brain had won, just like he wanted. Though, now, after he had had his time distraction-free, he couldn't help but feel like beating his heart was more of a defeat than anything else. And for that, he wanted to shake Eames. Shake him and yell at him until Eames realized what he had done to Arthur, even though Arthur was over him.
"I'm fine," he stated simply. Nothing showed on his face, of that he was sure. As if betraying him, however, his stomach rumbled for the fifth time in the past hour.
"That doesn't seem to be the case." Eames closed the distance between the door and Arthur's desk, putting a bag down. "I didn't take you for the fast food type, so I got you a chicken Cesar salad." Arthur peeked into the bag as Eames spoke, confirming the man's words.
"Thank you," Arthur said tightly. "But you didn't have to."
"I wanted to, dear." Eames looked...nervous. It was odd, seeing the man hesitate even the slightest before doing anything. "I needed a chance to talk to you, anyway."
"About what? Though I have a feeling I'll regret asking this." Arthur leaned back in his chair, sighing.
"Why have you been avoiding me?" Eames placed his hands on the table, palms down, looking deep into Arthur's eyes. That nervousness was gone. He was all confidence; all concern, really.
"I haven't been avoiding you," Arthur replied coolly, forcing himself to keep eye contact with Eames, even if he wanted to glance down, around, anywhere but at Eames' big eyes, boring into him.
"Well that's the lie of the year, now isn't it? This is the first real conversation we've had and I've been here for seventy-two hours. Darling, we haven't even bickered. Is there something bothering you? Am I dressed especially awful?"
"No," was all Arthur could reply before glancing down. He remembered the day his heart sealed away again with full clarity. But he was happy now. Happy putting his work first. This would get things done. This is what people would look at when he was gone. All that he accomplished, all that he worked so hard for. They would look at his career and be in awe. The other option was when he was gone, his ungrateful little grand kids have the pictures of him and Eames in a shoebox somewhere in their attic. He wouldn't be remembered, then. Just a passing thought.
"How about we make a bet?" Eames asked, walking around the desk and pushing Arthur back, so he was right in front of him. Invading too much personal space for Arthur's liking, so he scooted back a bit. "We each list twenty things, taking turns. You list twenty good reasons to avoid me, and I'll list twenty good reasons why you shouldn't. You go first."
"One," Arthur said immediately. "We have completely different view points on life."
"One," Eames echoed, leaning down. Arthur's breath caught in his throat. He thought this was over. But when Eames touched his lips to Arthur's forehead--just a ghost of a kiss, barely there, but still there; the electric shot went right to his heart. Crack. "I admire your intelligence more than anyone else."
"Two," Arthur said after swallowing, trying to understand what was going on here. "You're insufferably arrogant."
"Two." Eames leaned to the side, kissing right below Arthur's ear. "I'm awed by the fact that you never miss a single detail."
"Th...three." Arthur could feel his mouth going dry. "You have the worst choice in shirts I've ever seen."
"Three," Eames leaned in, kissing his eyebrow. "You see solutions I could never."
"Four, you hardly ever shave," he spit out, trying not to get to flustered.
"Four." Eames kissed Arthur's nose. "This is just adorable," he leaned in closer, brushing his own nose against Arthur's in an Eskimo kiss.
"F-fiv--five," Arthur choked out. But he could feel it. Each time Eames' lips landed on his skin, it was like a white-hot fire exploding, sending shivers down his body. He had goose bumps and he was gripping the arms of his chair for dear life. His brain wasn't computing anything but Eames; Eames' eyes (he missed looking into them), Eames' hair (it was so short, so tempting to run his fingers through and see if it was soft), Eames' voice (that accent that sent his encased heart pounding so fast, the stone around it was due to break in any second).
"Five," Eames cut him off, grinning wide. The sense that he had won was just radiating off of him, and it was only feeding his ego. He had Arthur in bits in the palms of his hands before ten. Before five. But he kept going, kissing Arthur's jaw. "Your vocabulary is immaculate." Arthur only sat there, a blush creeping up on his cheeks, looking to Eames with needy eyes. He wanted more, but he couldn't speak. He lost all function of everything he was.
"Six. I've been waiting to do this for years," Eames said, ducking his head and kissing Arthur's neck, even nipping a bit. Arthur involuntarily gasped, and he could feel Eames grin again into the neck of his skin. "Seven. I've desired to see below the cloth for years," he said as he undid Arthur's jacket, waist coat and the top buttons of his shirt, kissing Arthur's chest. Arthur's breath was irregular. They were only on seven? It was infuriating.
The rest of the reasons went by in a blur. Arthur's mind was in an Eames-induced haze, and he could only remember the last two reasons that Eames rattled off.
"Nineteen," Eames said, looking into Arthur's eyes. "I've only ever dreamed of doing this. It's been all I've wanted since I met you. I can't even see you die in dreams. The feeling is too real. And if I don't get to see the day when I get to kiss you, my life will be absolutely meaningless." He leaned in, catching Arthur's lips in his own, pressing. Arthur kissed him back immediately, needing this, aching for it. His heart--the thing that had started coming back to life with each of Eames' kisses--burst out of its shell, beating faster than a humming bird flew. It sent the need, the message of Eames throughout his entire body, and he pressed into the kiss. Leaned forward, towards Eames, trying to show Eames the truth, even if he still couldn't manage to speak: I love you.
Eames pulled back from the kiss, however, with happiness twinkling in his eyes. "I still have to tell you one more reason why, love. Or else I lose the bet and that means you win it. And if you win it, that means we have to avoid each other. You don't want that, do you?"
"No," Arthur squeaked out, wrapping his arms around Eames' neck, pulling him close. He felt so vulnerable; yet, completely safe with Eames there.
Eames pulled back from Arthur's grasp, pulling his arm and taking his hand. "Twenty," he murmured, kissing Arthur's pointer finger. "You are the best point man I have ever known of. I cannot believe I've had the honor of working beside someone whose already got their name everywhere. A living legend."
Arthur's jaw dropped slightly in surprise. He couldn't really breathe right, but that was because of Eames. Because Eames had said something that he had waited to hear, wanted to achieve. He pulled the man close, burying his nose in his neck.
"I'm sorry," he whimpered.
"There's nothing to be sorry about, darling."
Prompt: time: twentieth
Medium: Fic
Rating: PG
Warnings: Kissing.
Summary: Eames doesn't know why Arthur is avoiding him like the plague, but he's going to find out.
Disclaimer: I do not own Inception, or any of its fancy characters. Damn.
Author's Note: This is a long time coming after a bit of a hiatus, a very small one. Part Two of this fic, which I wrote earlier this summer.
Dedication: alifeofourown
"Did you complete the mission?" Arthur asked, locking eyes with Cobb, who nodded. Yusuf went to go gather the mark, who he quickly slipped another liquid sedative before he could fully wake up before he noticed what was going on, moving him back to the van to drop him off at his car, where they had picked him up (the power of chloroform saved the team many times).
"Everything went well. Yusuf told us of what happened; I'm sorry I sent you into that."
"I told you it was a bloody stupid idea, Cobb." Eames muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets, looking down at the ground. Arthur only noticed out of the corner of his eye.
"The mission got completed, Eames. Who knew what would have happened if we didn't send them down that alley?" Cobb retorted, eyes following Eames as he helped Arthur pull the cords back to the PASIV.
"Oh, I don't know. We save Arthur some serious pain and fulfill the mission with a full team, and also not by the skin of our teeth?" Eames said bitterly, handing Arthur the cords he collected. The leaner man nodded his thanks to him, clicking the PASIV shut. He stood there for a moment, wondering why it had taken him this long to register that their hands had brushed when Eames had given him the cords to the passive. He wondered further why his pulse didn't increase, like it did before when he had simply laid eyes on Eames. He sighed ever so slightly before turning back to the team, PASIV in his grip.
"The mission is over and completed, Mr. Eames, there's no need for belly aching," Arthur stated simply. "I believe it's been a long day for all of us."
"Belly aching, pet? I don't believe I was. I do believe I was defending you." Eames glanced to Arthur, his jaw set tight.
"Please, do hesitate to defend me next time. I don't need your protection." Arthur turned away from his gaze, content with the fact that his brain won. He was no longer going to have to suffer through the distraction of Eames. Eames was like anyone else to him now; just a passer by on the street. He would never know of the stolen kiss, and that was the way Arthur liked it. It was more like the way Arthur needed it to be. It had been his closure, and he could set his eyes on the goal; the goal of being the best point man in history.
Four months passed before Cobb came to them with another mission. Arthur had been spending that time back at home; getting a few new suits and upgrading all of his technology. It was their third day on the job when Arthur couldn't shake that feeling of being watched. He looked up, glancing around, but just seeing everyone focusing on what they were doing. Maybe it was Yusuf's cat in the corner, who hopped off of Yusuf's desk to venture behind the boxes in the corner, looking for something.
Arthur held his breath for a moment, eyes lingering at the boxes. The feeling didn't shake. He tried to ignore it still and went back to work.
That night, he had been working late. He was never one to break just because the sun set if he was on a roll. Even if his stomach rumbled, he ignored it as best he could, trying to keep the gears in his brain turning; one thought bleeding into another, back tracking, remembering the information forwards, backwards, even upside down.
"Love, don't you think it's time to eat?" A voice sounded, startling Arthur. He looked up, and there was Eames. He hesitated a moment. There was no pitter-patter of his heart. His body wasn't reacting. His brain had won, just like he wanted. Though, now, after he had had his time distraction-free, he couldn't help but feel like beating his heart was more of a defeat than anything else. And for that, he wanted to shake Eames. Shake him and yell at him until Eames realized what he had done to Arthur, even though Arthur was over him.
"I'm fine," he stated simply. Nothing showed on his face, of that he was sure. As if betraying him, however, his stomach rumbled for the fifth time in the past hour.
"That doesn't seem to be the case." Eames closed the distance between the door and Arthur's desk, putting a bag down. "I didn't take you for the fast food type, so I got you a chicken Cesar salad." Arthur peeked into the bag as Eames spoke, confirming the man's words.
"Thank you," Arthur said tightly. "But you didn't have to."
"I wanted to, dear." Eames looked...nervous. It was odd, seeing the man hesitate even the slightest before doing anything. "I needed a chance to talk to you, anyway."
"About what? Though I have a feeling I'll regret asking this." Arthur leaned back in his chair, sighing.
"Why have you been avoiding me?" Eames placed his hands on the table, palms down, looking deep into Arthur's eyes. That nervousness was gone. He was all confidence; all concern, really.
"I haven't been avoiding you," Arthur replied coolly, forcing himself to keep eye contact with Eames, even if he wanted to glance down, around, anywhere but at Eames' big eyes, boring into him.
"Well that's the lie of the year, now isn't it? This is the first real conversation we've had and I've been here for seventy-two hours. Darling, we haven't even bickered. Is there something bothering you? Am I dressed especially awful?"
"No," was all Arthur could reply before glancing down. He remembered the day his heart sealed away again with full clarity. But he was happy now. Happy putting his work first. This would get things done. This is what people would look at when he was gone. All that he accomplished, all that he worked so hard for. They would look at his career and be in awe. The other option was when he was gone, his ungrateful little grand kids have the pictures of him and Eames in a shoebox somewhere in their attic. He wouldn't be remembered, then. Just a passing thought.
"How about we make a bet?" Eames asked, walking around the desk and pushing Arthur back, so he was right in front of him. Invading too much personal space for Arthur's liking, so he scooted back a bit. "We each list twenty things, taking turns. You list twenty good reasons to avoid me, and I'll list twenty good reasons why you shouldn't. You go first."
"One," Arthur said immediately. "We have completely different view points on life."
"One," Eames echoed, leaning down. Arthur's breath caught in his throat. He thought this was over. But when Eames touched his lips to Arthur's forehead--just a ghost of a kiss, barely there, but still there; the electric shot went right to his heart. Crack. "I admire your intelligence more than anyone else."
"Two," Arthur said after swallowing, trying to understand what was going on here. "You're insufferably arrogant."
"Two." Eames leaned to the side, kissing right below Arthur's ear. "I'm awed by the fact that you never miss a single detail."
"Th...three." Arthur could feel his mouth going dry. "You have the worst choice in shirts I've ever seen."
"Three," Eames leaned in, kissing his eyebrow. "You see solutions I could never."
"Four, you hardly ever shave," he spit out, trying not to get to flustered.
"Four." Eames kissed Arthur's nose. "This is just adorable," he leaned in closer, brushing his own nose against Arthur's in an Eskimo kiss.
"F-fiv--five," Arthur choked out. But he could feel it. Each time Eames' lips landed on his skin, it was like a white-hot fire exploding, sending shivers down his body. He had goose bumps and he was gripping the arms of his chair for dear life. His brain wasn't computing anything but Eames; Eames' eyes (he missed looking into them), Eames' hair (it was so short, so tempting to run his fingers through and see if it was soft), Eames' voice (that accent that sent his encased heart pounding so fast, the stone around it was due to break in any second).
"Five," Eames cut him off, grinning wide. The sense that he had won was just radiating off of him, and it was only feeding his ego. He had Arthur in bits in the palms of his hands before ten. Before five. But he kept going, kissing Arthur's jaw. "Your vocabulary is immaculate." Arthur only sat there, a blush creeping up on his cheeks, looking to Eames with needy eyes. He wanted more, but he couldn't speak. He lost all function of everything he was.
"Six. I've been waiting to do this for years," Eames said, ducking his head and kissing Arthur's neck, even nipping a bit. Arthur involuntarily gasped, and he could feel Eames grin again into the neck of his skin. "Seven. I've desired to see below the cloth for years," he said as he undid Arthur's jacket, waist coat and the top buttons of his shirt, kissing Arthur's chest. Arthur's breath was irregular. They were only on seven? It was infuriating.
The rest of the reasons went by in a blur. Arthur's mind was in an Eames-induced haze, and he could only remember the last two reasons that Eames rattled off.
"Nineteen," Eames said, looking into Arthur's eyes. "I've only ever dreamed of doing this. It's been all I've wanted since I met you. I can't even see you die in dreams. The feeling is too real. And if I don't get to see the day when I get to kiss you, my life will be absolutely meaningless." He leaned in, catching Arthur's lips in his own, pressing. Arthur kissed him back immediately, needing this, aching for it. His heart--the thing that had started coming back to life with each of Eames' kisses--burst out of its shell, beating faster than a humming bird flew. It sent the need, the message of Eames throughout his entire body, and he pressed into the kiss. Leaned forward, towards Eames, trying to show Eames the truth, even if he still couldn't manage to speak: I love you.
Eames pulled back from the kiss, however, with happiness twinkling in his eyes. "I still have to tell you one more reason why, love. Or else I lose the bet and that means you win it. And if you win it, that means we have to avoid each other. You don't want that, do you?"
"No," Arthur squeaked out, wrapping his arms around Eames' neck, pulling him close. He felt so vulnerable; yet, completely safe with Eames there.
Eames pulled back from Arthur's grasp, pulling his arm and taking his hand. "Twenty," he murmured, kissing Arthur's pointer finger. "You are the best point man I have ever known of. I cannot believe I've had the honor of working beside someone whose already got their name everywhere. A living legend."
Arthur's jaw dropped slightly in surprise. He couldn't really breathe right, but that was because of Eames. Because Eames had said something that he had waited to hear, wanted to achieve. He pulled the man close, burying his nose in his neck.
"I'm sorry," he whimpered.
"There's nothing to be sorry about, darling."