013. || fic: wonderstruck (1/?)
Title: Wonderstruck (1/?)
Rating: PG-13 (for this chapter-some suggestive dialogue)
Characters/Pairings: Ariadne/Eames, the team, other characters
Summary: Ariadne and Eames grow closer to each other as a teammate's milestone approaches. For this prompt at inception_kink
Disclaimer: Christopher Nolan owns Inception, darlings. I don't make any Benjamins off of this, but he does!
Notes: OH SCHNAPPLES, I CAN WRITE SHIPPY, FLUFFY FIC THAT'S NOT TOTALLY CRACKY? D: Well, it was worth a shot... Also, I don’t like writing multi-part fics, but the word count here is so long in my personal terms that I decided to split it into parts. I’ll probably get the next (Maybe it’ll be the last, maybe not) part up tomorrow or on Monday.
Word Count: 3144 (for this chapter)
"Arthur told you his big news already, didn't he?"
Eames' wandering mind came back to him when he heard her somewhat mousy voice break the barrier of silence. He turned around and saw Ariadne standing there with her hands clasped together, looking at him with inquiring eyes.
For the year and a half that Ariadne and Eames had been working together, they had to overcome their differences, from their strategies of escaping a dream level to what snack foods belonged in the warehouse's makeshift kitchen. But for one of the few things they did have in common, it was Arthur that served as their biggest unspoken battle, and one that both of them always lost.
"He asked me to be a groomsman," said Eames. "Which I suppose is a generous consolation prize. Figured anyone would lose to Cobb to fill the role of Best Man." He forced his lips into a curled smile, but Ariadne's expression remained a little cloudy. "Wipe that frown off your face, dear. He's getting married, not getting treatment for the plague, although sometimes the boy is his own plague. Besides, you know that if he didn't get back together with Miranda, he'd still choose you over me."
"You think that's what I'm upset about, Eames?" the petite architect raised her voice, making the man clench in fear for a moment. Seconds later, she exhaled and took the seat next to him. "He's going to leave us, retire from this subconscious security business, and move to D.C. with her and her kids and take a job there, and when he does...when he does, we're going to have no one."
"He told you all of this?" Eames blankly looked straight ahead at nothing across from him.
Ariadne nodded her head. "Arthur knows what's practical. He'll do it."
"That lucky broad gets to rumple up our Arthur's pressed suits every night," Eames raised an eyebrow at Ariadne. "Him leaving, that's only second on your mind."
She returned a small smirk before letting her eyes fall to the floor. "I'm not going to lie, I'm heartbroken. I didn't even know they were still in love after all this time. But she's beautiful and is everything he deserves." She shrugged her shoulders and landed back on her feet to get back to her work. "Besides, if he does retire, maybe it's a good thing that he'll no longer have to be bothered by your awful impromptu Journey covers."
Eames protested and strided behind Ariadne as she moved to the refrigerator. "As if he hasn't been annoyed by the stubs of pencil you leave scattered around on everyone's desks!"
"Hey, Eames," Ariadne spotted what seemed like a little replica of green flatlands enclosed in Saran wrap and over a plate. "What did Arthur and I tell you about making our refrigerator your own personal garden?" She took off the overwrap to reveal a sandwich, no longer recognizable due to the puke-colored mold surrounding it.
"That's not fair for you to badger me about this, I was gone for the entire two weeks!"
Hearing but not listening to the British-drawled excuses, Ariadne grabbed the moldy sandwich between the fingers on her right hand, aiming straight for Eames' smug mug.
Eames moved swiftly to the right, dodging the nasty food bomb, just before they both heard that ever-so-familiar deep commanding voice from behind the open refrigerator door.
"Hey infants," Ariadne saw Arthur strut in, just milliseconds before her missed aim went straight into Arthur's cheek and the sandwich trailed down his perfect chocolate brown vest as he turned and looked down at Eames' now-disheveled old sandwich.
Eames couldn't hide his laughter as Ariadne put her hands to her mouth, hiding her gasp but not her wide mortified eyes at Arthur. "I am SO sorry, Arthur!" She grabbed a few napkins near her and walked over to the point man. He eyed her unapprovingly before snatching the napkins from her.
"Yusuf and I have been waiting for the both of you for 20 minutes and here you are food-fighting," Arthur meticulously wiped off the residue from his face and whatever was possible to wipe off from his usually painfully-neat attire. "Come on, Eames, Donovan is going to arrive at any minute and you know he hates waiting for anyone. Ariadne, clean this mess up and meet us as soon as you're done.”
Eames snuck a victorious and amused look at Ariadne before following Arthur. "Sweetie, it would really benefit you if you played elementary-level catch. Imagine if that sandwich was a football. Wouldn't want Arthur's pretty face to get all bloody and bruised by your blunders, right, dear?"
Ariadne mumbled a few obscenities at Eames once he was out-of-sight.
------------
"Little one," Ariadne heard Eames' unmistakable, mocking tone along with a knock at the door.
"What do you want, Eames?" she yawned and looked as his tall, burly silhouette inched forward through her half-sleep.
"Listen, today was the only day I'd be able to buy Arthur and Miranda's wedding present," Eames unconsciously sat at the edge of Ariadne's bed. He noticed her brown curls splayed out from underneath her; a pink-ish flush on her fair skin as she looked at him in a daze. For a moment, he felt awful having to barge in on her like this. But he didn't expect to find that she'd look almost divine in this state. Wait...what did he come here for again? "Yusuf was supposed to help me, but the little bugger came down with food poisoning. I suppose it's somewhat of a blessing, however, because now I can get an architect's opinion on what piece of furniture I can buy for our favorite couple.”
"What's in it for me?" Ariadne blinked.
"I can help you purchase your gift for the mister and missus today too, if you'd like," Eames knew from the get-go that she would ask him that.
"I already bought them decor last week," Ariadne tossed the other way, to not look at him.
"I'll help you pick out something to wear, how about that?" Eames quickly ventured up an alternative.
"What do you know about picking out things for girls to wear at weddings?" Ariadne tossed in her bed to look at him again, this time with curiosity,
"Ariadne, are you bloody serious with that question?" Eames chuckled. "A good portion of my life has been built on building characters, creating fashions for every occasion and every purpose. In dreams, I've created the best kinds of distractions, as a woman, with my clothes." He leaned forward and softened his voice. "I can turn you into the belle of the ball. The bridesmaids will toss their bouquets to the ground with frustration and wonder out loud why you're not in their party."
He saw her eyes open a little wider and her tiny mouth grin in a pleased expression. "I'll be ready in about an hour," she rose up and laid a hand to Eames' shoulder. "But can you get off my bed now?"
"Oh, I'm sorry," Eames responded, feeling her push. He straightened his jacket and smoothed his slacks and turned around to look at her again. "I'll check back with you in about an hour."
It was three months after Arthur had announced his engagement to his military sweetheart, reunited after four years since he left to pursue a career in subconscious security. After a year of dating again, he proposed. From the few bits and chunks everyone on the team knew about her, Miranda was a Marines nurse five years Arthur's senior, but didn't look a day over 30 with her long and straight dark brown hair and pretty blue eyes. Her two daughters--both of who she already had when she met Arthur--knew the point man as "Dad," even during those years he and Miranda weren't together.
Arthur was now in a similar situation as the team's original extractor and his long-time friend, Dom Cobb. Cobb's departure led to Arthur, Ariadne, Eames, and Yusuf hiring new extractors for the past two years, including Donovan, their current guy. Cobb proved that this business is too dangerous when you're a family man--the sacrifices immeasurable, the emotional toll too great.
Ariadne was right three months ago when she said Arthur would leave them. His wedding would not only be the beginning of a new chapter in his life, but also a type of retirement party for him, from this dangerous business.
With Miranda's blessing (She even came along with them once), Arthur sometimes took the team (Sans their extractor, who always stood behind in Paris) to D.C. -- Miranda's residency and where the wedding would take place -- to get second opinions on the wedding planning. Ariadne's obvious knowledge of architecture and design was helpful in choosing venues and decor, and both Eames and Yusuf had the coveted job of taste-testing for the reception, amongst other miscellaneous duties.
It is during another one of those trips where Eames and Ariadne found themselves in IKEA.
"So what exactly do you plan on buying for them?" Ariadne asked as they walked into the chilly but easy-on-the-eyes store.
"You're going to help me decide that, dear!" He headed straight for a panel of rug and carpet samples, flipping through a few at a time before stopping at one to show Ariadne. "A red arabesque design would be a nice contrast to his taste in dark solid colors, right?"
"I think Saito may have gotten you beat on all things textile," Ariadne smirked. "I bet he bought an entire new color scheme for the whole house."
"Seriously, Ariadne? With all the money that man has, I think he may have bought them a whole NEW house plus all of the carpeting," Eames closed the panels. "Come this way."
Ariadne followed Eames' motion to go into the Bedroom section, all lined with nightstands, canopies, and of course, mattresses.
"I think they might need one of these to kick their marriage off to the right start." For once, Ariadne was charmed by the wink Eames gave with that remark. Her small giggle escalated to a louder volume when he suddenly climbed on top of the blue and white bedding and marked it by bouncing up and down on his feet.
"What are you doing?" Ariadne asked, embarrassed but mostly amused that he was doing this in a friggin' store.
"I always do this when I sleep on a new bed. Come on, try it."
"I always just--" Ariadne let out a surprised squeal as Eames reached out and hoisted her to place her feet on the bed. "I always just lie in them when I'm in these stores." She looked down at Eames' polished black shoes motioning up and down before looking at her own, forcing a little jump, then two, then three. "Hey, this is kind of fun."
"I don't know, I feel like this one is too firm," Eames' joyful smile reminded her of a kid on the playground swings that smiling back was contagious.
"Hey, excuse me!" A buzzkill by the unattractive worker wearing blue. "This is not Chuck E. Cheese," she said in a cackling voice.
"Well, then, I'll make my way toward the ball pit," Eames sarcastically remarked and waved at her. Ariadne covered her mouth and stifled her laughter as she followed behind him.
"Maybe testing all these mattresses won't work too well," Ariadne said as they made their way to another bed. "But buying bedding might be another option. It's almost similar to buying a rug or carpet. If they can't have a comfortable mattress from you, you can give them comfortable pillows." Ariadne swiftly took one off of the mattress display. "You know how I like to test my new pillows?"
"Lie on them?" Eames shrugged. He was met with a blow to the face by the pillow Ariadne was holding, and the loss of his train of thought.
"If that hurt you, I'd probably say this is a perfect pillow."
"This means war, darling!" Eames took the other pillow on the bed and lunged at Ariadne, tackling her at the edge of the bed amidst the entanglement of the pillows hitting each other and their persons. Along with the laughter and grunting, it certainly looked like something else from anyone looking behind Eames.
"Excuse me! This is a family store!" Eames and Ariadne looked up to see that irritated worker again.
"Oh, but I thought this wasn't Chuck E. Cheese!" Eames retorted.
"Sir, if you talk back to me like that and if you fail to comply with store policy, I'm going to have to ask you and your little friend to leave, or I'll have security make you leave," the dirty gray-haired woman said sternly.
Eames straightened the collar of his black shirt and cocked his head. "Fine," he said before turning around. Without looking back, he said loud enough for her to hear, "I hope you get a good lay tonight so you're not grumpy tomorrow!"
"Yeah, my husband can't wait!" the sound of her voice rattled back. Eames laughed and shook his hand before he sensed Ariadne rushing up next to him to nudge him roughly.
"Don't you think that was a little rude, Eames?"
"Rude? You were the one who hit me with a pillow first!" It was a hypocritical thing to say. After all,
"You were the one who jumped on the bed!"
"You enjoyed it."
With the gleam of his eyes, his toothy grin, and the not-so-distant memories of what happened in those two beds and getting caught by authority, Ariadne couldn't deny it. "I did," she smiled back at him. She did...but wait, the wedding present! She almost impulsively grabbed ahold of both of Eames' wrists and turned to stop him from walking further toward the exit. "You still have to buy your gift!"
After almost about an hour of scouring through the sections (And attempting to play with things without getting caught by that darn worker or others) and with Ariadne's constructive advice throughout the hour, Eames decided on an oak finish bookcase, appropriate for the point man's practicality and to his tastes as well as his future wife's. After making the purchase, they both made the 15-minute drive over to the nearest outlet mall for Ariadne's dress.
Together, they rummaged through the racks---mostly her picks, with a few of his mixed in. The fitting room only allowed six garments at a time, and many, many back and forth trips were made. Ariadne put on her own fashion show for Eames, who offered stinging commentary for everything she came out wearing.
"Minnie Mouse would not be pleased that you stole her outfit." "It's a wedding, not the Addams Family television special." "I think I saw a whore in London wearing the same thing one time." "My mum wore that in the 80s." "Going all Amish now?" "(It's too long, Eames) That's what she said." "From Lady Gaga's rejected Grammy Awards wardrobe."
"I'm feeling really unsure about this one. The color and the cut looks so wrong on me," Eames heard Ariadne's voice through the dressing room for about the 40th time.
"What else could possibly go wrong, Ariadne? I've run out of insults," Eames felt like a vein in his head would explode. What had he gotten himself into, making a deal like this? He may have bought his gift, but he and Ariadne felt so displeased by the clothing selections for the past hour-and-a-half. "Ariadne, just come out of there. I'm sure this one will make you look--"
Ariadne walked out from behind the curtain, a sea green strapless satin dress clinging on to her, with a decent length hitting just past the knees and with a feathery hemline. She looked down and fiddled nervously with her hair brushed to one side, not noticing that Eames gulped and stared at her in astonishment.
"Decent," she said.
"I was going to say perfect," Eames managed to spurt out. And he meant it. This certainly couldn't be the Ariadne who wore layers adorned by that damn red jacket, the kerchief of the day, and Converse sneakers. But it was. Her brown curls, doe eyes, fair skin, and small frame were all there. But this time, she truly looked like the belle of the ball---just like Eames said he could make turn her into. Except that he didn't---this was all her doing.
"Perfect?" she looked up at him with her tiny lips parted. She walked to the mirror and watched him follow her, his intimidating figure dwarfing her in the reflection.
"Why did you feel so unsure? The cut is unique yet modest enough for a wedding. The color complements your skin and hair. All the bridesmaids are going to be wearing pastel pink, so you'll fit in quite nicely, but you'll stand out," Eames evaluated her through the mirror, admiring this new sight of her.
"You were so critical about everything else," Ariadne said quietly, shaking her head.
"I didn't know this was going to be underneath that pile," Eames referred to the dress, but secretly, he also thought of her. How could he suddenly find her so lovely, here and now?
"What should I do with my hair?" She tossed some of her locks over to the other side, brushing through them with her fingers.
"It'd look nice if you put it up," Eames suggested. Ariadne bunched her hair up in a ponytail. "Maybe twist all of it." Eames firmly yet gently grabbed Ariadne's ponytail, twisted it, and wrapped it around on top her head, taking his other hand to support the makeshift bun. Her neck looked perfect, almost calling out to him to take one of his hands and run through it and all the way down to her spine. God, it was so tempting.
"So, I should get this dress, yeah?"
"Trust me, you're not going to find anything better."
"For once, Eames, I believe you're right." Their reflections smiled back at the other person. "Eames?" Ariadne's expression turned into one of confusion.
"What is it?"
"You can let go of my hair now."
"Oh," Eames gently pulled his hands away from the bun, unraveling them back into their natural chestnut waves. "Well, I'll meet you out at the front when you're done." He made his way out, but not before stealing one last glance at Ariadne in her gorgeous light green glory. He was relieved that the awkwardness of this day would be over. It was hard for Eames to feel awkward, ever. What was happening to him? What was happening to Ariadne?
Ariadne touched the base of her scalp, where Eames' hand was. She took one last look at herself as a pink flush warmed her cheeks and a little smile spread across her lips.
Rating: PG-13 (for this chapter-some suggestive dialogue)
Characters/Pairings: Ariadne/Eames, the team, other characters
Summary: Ariadne and Eames grow closer to each other as a teammate's milestone approaches. For this prompt at inception_kink
Disclaimer: Christopher Nolan owns Inception, darlings. I don't make any Benjamins off of this, but he does!
Notes: OH SCHNAPPLES, I CAN WRITE SHIPPY, FLUFFY FIC THAT'S NOT TOTALLY CRACKY? D: Well, it was worth a shot... Also, I don’t like writing multi-part fics, but the word count here is so long in my personal terms that I decided to split it into parts. I’ll probably get the next (Maybe it’ll be the last, maybe not) part up tomorrow or on Monday.
Word Count: 3144 (for this chapter)
"Arthur told you his big news already, didn't he?"
Eames' wandering mind came back to him when he heard her somewhat mousy voice break the barrier of silence. He turned around and saw Ariadne standing there with her hands clasped together, looking at him with inquiring eyes.
For the year and a half that Ariadne and Eames had been working together, they had to overcome their differences, from their strategies of escaping a dream level to what snack foods belonged in the warehouse's makeshift kitchen. But for one of the few things they did have in common, it was Arthur that served as their biggest unspoken battle, and one that both of them always lost.
"He asked me to be a groomsman," said Eames. "Which I suppose is a generous consolation prize. Figured anyone would lose to Cobb to fill the role of Best Man." He forced his lips into a curled smile, but Ariadne's expression remained a little cloudy. "Wipe that frown off your face, dear. He's getting married, not getting treatment for the plague, although sometimes the boy is his own plague. Besides, you know that if he didn't get back together with Miranda, he'd still choose you over me."
"You think that's what I'm upset about, Eames?" the petite architect raised her voice, making the man clench in fear for a moment. Seconds later, she exhaled and took the seat next to him. "He's going to leave us, retire from this subconscious security business, and move to D.C. with her and her kids and take a job there, and when he does...when he does, we're going to have no one."
"He told you all of this?" Eames blankly looked straight ahead at nothing across from him.
Ariadne nodded her head. "Arthur knows what's practical. He'll do it."
"That lucky broad gets to rumple up our Arthur's pressed suits every night," Eames raised an eyebrow at Ariadne. "Him leaving, that's only second on your mind."
She returned a small smirk before letting her eyes fall to the floor. "I'm not going to lie, I'm heartbroken. I didn't even know they were still in love after all this time. But she's beautiful and is everything he deserves." She shrugged her shoulders and landed back on her feet to get back to her work. "Besides, if he does retire, maybe it's a good thing that he'll no longer have to be bothered by your awful impromptu Journey covers."
Eames protested and strided behind Ariadne as she moved to the refrigerator. "As if he hasn't been annoyed by the stubs of pencil you leave scattered around on everyone's desks!"
"Hey, Eames," Ariadne spotted what seemed like a little replica of green flatlands enclosed in Saran wrap and over a plate. "What did Arthur and I tell you about making our refrigerator your own personal garden?" She took off the overwrap to reveal a sandwich, no longer recognizable due to the puke-colored mold surrounding it.
"That's not fair for you to badger me about this, I was gone for the entire two weeks!"
Hearing but not listening to the British-drawled excuses, Ariadne grabbed the moldy sandwich between the fingers on her right hand, aiming straight for Eames' smug mug.
Eames moved swiftly to the right, dodging the nasty food bomb, just before they both heard that ever-so-familiar deep commanding voice from behind the open refrigerator door.
"Hey infants," Ariadne saw Arthur strut in, just milliseconds before her missed aim went straight into Arthur's cheek and the sandwich trailed down his perfect chocolate brown vest as he turned and looked down at Eames' now-disheveled old sandwich.
Eames couldn't hide his laughter as Ariadne put her hands to her mouth, hiding her gasp but not her wide mortified eyes at Arthur. "I am SO sorry, Arthur!" She grabbed a few napkins near her and walked over to the point man. He eyed her unapprovingly before snatching the napkins from her.
"Yusuf and I have been waiting for the both of you for 20 minutes and here you are food-fighting," Arthur meticulously wiped off the residue from his face and whatever was possible to wipe off from his usually painfully-neat attire. "Come on, Eames, Donovan is going to arrive at any minute and you know he hates waiting for anyone. Ariadne, clean this mess up and meet us as soon as you're done.”
Eames snuck a victorious and amused look at Ariadne before following Arthur. "Sweetie, it would really benefit you if you played elementary-level catch. Imagine if that sandwich was a football. Wouldn't want Arthur's pretty face to get all bloody and bruised by your blunders, right, dear?"
Ariadne mumbled a few obscenities at Eames once he was out-of-sight.
------------
"Little one," Ariadne heard Eames' unmistakable, mocking tone along with a knock at the door.
"What do you want, Eames?" she yawned and looked as his tall, burly silhouette inched forward through her half-sleep.
"Listen, today was the only day I'd be able to buy Arthur and Miranda's wedding present," Eames unconsciously sat at the edge of Ariadne's bed. He noticed her brown curls splayed out from underneath her; a pink-ish flush on her fair skin as she looked at him in a daze. For a moment, he felt awful having to barge in on her like this. But he didn't expect to find that she'd look almost divine in this state. Wait...what did he come here for again? "Yusuf was supposed to help me, but the little bugger came down with food poisoning. I suppose it's somewhat of a blessing, however, because now I can get an architect's opinion on what piece of furniture I can buy for our favorite couple.”
"What's in it for me?" Ariadne blinked.
"I can help you purchase your gift for the mister and missus today too, if you'd like," Eames knew from the get-go that she would ask him that.
"I already bought them decor last week," Ariadne tossed the other way, to not look at him.
"I'll help you pick out something to wear, how about that?" Eames quickly ventured up an alternative.
"What do you know about picking out things for girls to wear at weddings?" Ariadne tossed in her bed to look at him again, this time with curiosity,
"Ariadne, are you bloody serious with that question?" Eames chuckled. "A good portion of my life has been built on building characters, creating fashions for every occasion and every purpose. In dreams, I've created the best kinds of distractions, as a woman, with my clothes." He leaned forward and softened his voice. "I can turn you into the belle of the ball. The bridesmaids will toss their bouquets to the ground with frustration and wonder out loud why you're not in their party."
He saw her eyes open a little wider and her tiny mouth grin in a pleased expression. "I'll be ready in about an hour," she rose up and laid a hand to Eames' shoulder. "But can you get off my bed now?"
"Oh, I'm sorry," Eames responded, feeling her push. He straightened his jacket and smoothed his slacks and turned around to look at her again. "I'll check back with you in about an hour."
It was three months after Arthur had announced his engagement to his military sweetheart, reunited after four years since he left to pursue a career in subconscious security. After a year of dating again, he proposed. From the few bits and chunks everyone on the team knew about her, Miranda was a Marines nurse five years Arthur's senior, but didn't look a day over 30 with her long and straight dark brown hair and pretty blue eyes. Her two daughters--both of who she already had when she met Arthur--knew the point man as "Dad," even during those years he and Miranda weren't together.
Arthur was now in a similar situation as the team's original extractor and his long-time friend, Dom Cobb. Cobb's departure led to Arthur, Ariadne, Eames, and Yusuf hiring new extractors for the past two years, including Donovan, their current guy. Cobb proved that this business is too dangerous when you're a family man--the sacrifices immeasurable, the emotional toll too great.
Ariadne was right three months ago when she said Arthur would leave them. His wedding would not only be the beginning of a new chapter in his life, but also a type of retirement party for him, from this dangerous business.
With Miranda's blessing (She even came along with them once), Arthur sometimes took the team (Sans their extractor, who always stood behind in Paris) to D.C. -- Miranda's residency and where the wedding would take place -- to get second opinions on the wedding planning. Ariadne's obvious knowledge of architecture and design was helpful in choosing venues and decor, and both Eames and Yusuf had the coveted job of taste-testing for the reception, amongst other miscellaneous duties.
It is during another one of those trips where Eames and Ariadne found themselves in IKEA.
"So what exactly do you plan on buying for them?" Ariadne asked as they walked into the chilly but easy-on-the-eyes store.
"You're going to help me decide that, dear!" He headed straight for a panel of rug and carpet samples, flipping through a few at a time before stopping at one to show Ariadne. "A red arabesque design would be a nice contrast to his taste in dark solid colors, right?"
"I think Saito may have gotten you beat on all things textile," Ariadne smirked. "I bet he bought an entire new color scheme for the whole house."
"Seriously, Ariadne? With all the money that man has, I think he may have bought them a whole NEW house plus all of the carpeting," Eames closed the panels. "Come this way."
Ariadne followed Eames' motion to go into the Bedroom section, all lined with nightstands, canopies, and of course, mattresses.
"I think they might need one of these to kick their marriage off to the right start." For once, Ariadne was charmed by the wink Eames gave with that remark. Her small giggle escalated to a louder volume when he suddenly climbed on top of the blue and white bedding and marked it by bouncing up and down on his feet.
"What are you doing?" Ariadne asked, embarrassed but mostly amused that he was doing this in a friggin' store.
"I always do this when I sleep on a new bed. Come on, try it."
"I always just--" Ariadne let out a surprised squeal as Eames reached out and hoisted her to place her feet on the bed. "I always just lie in them when I'm in these stores." She looked down at Eames' polished black shoes motioning up and down before looking at her own, forcing a little jump, then two, then three. "Hey, this is kind of fun."
"I don't know, I feel like this one is too firm," Eames' joyful smile reminded her of a kid on the playground swings that smiling back was contagious.
"Hey, excuse me!" A buzzkill by the unattractive worker wearing blue. "This is not Chuck E. Cheese," she said in a cackling voice.
"Well, then, I'll make my way toward the ball pit," Eames sarcastically remarked and waved at her. Ariadne covered her mouth and stifled her laughter as she followed behind him.
"Maybe testing all these mattresses won't work too well," Ariadne said as they made their way to another bed. "But buying bedding might be another option. It's almost similar to buying a rug or carpet. If they can't have a comfortable mattress from you, you can give them comfortable pillows." Ariadne swiftly took one off of the mattress display. "You know how I like to test my new pillows?"
"Lie on them?" Eames shrugged. He was met with a blow to the face by the pillow Ariadne was holding, and the loss of his train of thought.
"If that hurt you, I'd probably say this is a perfect pillow."
"This means war, darling!" Eames took the other pillow on the bed and lunged at Ariadne, tackling her at the edge of the bed amidst the entanglement of the pillows hitting each other and their persons. Along with the laughter and grunting, it certainly looked like something else from anyone looking behind Eames.
"Excuse me! This is a family store!" Eames and Ariadne looked up to see that irritated worker again.
"Oh, but I thought this wasn't Chuck E. Cheese!" Eames retorted.
"Sir, if you talk back to me like that and if you fail to comply with store policy, I'm going to have to ask you and your little friend to leave, or I'll have security make you leave," the dirty gray-haired woman said sternly.
Eames straightened the collar of his black shirt and cocked his head. "Fine," he said before turning around. Without looking back, he said loud enough for her to hear, "I hope you get a good lay tonight so you're not grumpy tomorrow!"
"Yeah, my husband can't wait!" the sound of her voice rattled back. Eames laughed and shook his hand before he sensed Ariadne rushing up next to him to nudge him roughly.
"Don't you think that was a little rude, Eames?"
"Rude? You were the one who hit me with a pillow first!" It was a hypocritical thing to say. After all,
"You were the one who jumped on the bed!"
"You enjoyed it."
With the gleam of his eyes, his toothy grin, and the not-so-distant memories of what happened in those two beds and getting caught by authority, Ariadne couldn't deny it. "I did," she smiled back at him. She did...but wait, the wedding present! She almost impulsively grabbed ahold of both of Eames' wrists and turned to stop him from walking further toward the exit. "You still have to buy your gift!"
After almost about an hour of scouring through the sections (And attempting to play with things without getting caught by that darn worker or others) and with Ariadne's constructive advice throughout the hour, Eames decided on an oak finish bookcase, appropriate for the point man's practicality and to his tastes as well as his future wife's. After making the purchase, they both made the 15-minute drive over to the nearest outlet mall for Ariadne's dress.
Together, they rummaged through the racks---mostly her picks, with a few of his mixed in. The fitting room only allowed six garments at a time, and many, many back and forth trips were made. Ariadne put on her own fashion show for Eames, who offered stinging commentary for everything she came out wearing.
"Minnie Mouse would not be pleased that you stole her outfit." "It's a wedding, not the Addams Family television special." "I think I saw a whore in London wearing the same thing one time." "My mum wore that in the 80s." "Going all Amish now?" "(It's too long, Eames) That's what she said." "From Lady Gaga's rejected Grammy Awards wardrobe."
"I'm feeling really unsure about this one. The color and the cut looks so wrong on me," Eames heard Ariadne's voice through the dressing room for about the 40th time.
"What else could possibly go wrong, Ariadne? I've run out of insults," Eames felt like a vein in his head would explode. What had he gotten himself into, making a deal like this? He may have bought his gift, but he and Ariadne felt so displeased by the clothing selections for the past hour-and-a-half. "Ariadne, just come out of there. I'm sure this one will make you look--"
Ariadne walked out from behind the curtain, a sea green strapless satin dress clinging on to her, with a decent length hitting just past the knees and with a feathery hemline. She looked down and fiddled nervously with her hair brushed to one side, not noticing that Eames gulped and stared at her in astonishment.
"Decent," she said.
"I was going to say perfect," Eames managed to spurt out. And he meant it. This certainly couldn't be the Ariadne who wore layers adorned by that damn red jacket, the kerchief of the day, and Converse sneakers. But it was. Her brown curls, doe eyes, fair skin, and small frame were all there. But this time, she truly looked like the belle of the ball---just like Eames said he could make turn her into. Except that he didn't---this was all her doing.
"Perfect?" she looked up at him with her tiny lips parted. She walked to the mirror and watched him follow her, his intimidating figure dwarfing her in the reflection.
"Why did you feel so unsure? The cut is unique yet modest enough for a wedding. The color complements your skin and hair. All the bridesmaids are going to be wearing pastel pink, so you'll fit in quite nicely, but you'll stand out," Eames evaluated her through the mirror, admiring this new sight of her.
"You were so critical about everything else," Ariadne said quietly, shaking her head.
"I didn't know this was going to be underneath that pile," Eames referred to the dress, but secretly, he also thought of her. How could he suddenly find her so lovely, here and now?
"What should I do with my hair?" She tossed some of her locks over to the other side, brushing through them with her fingers.
"It'd look nice if you put it up," Eames suggested. Ariadne bunched her hair up in a ponytail. "Maybe twist all of it." Eames firmly yet gently grabbed Ariadne's ponytail, twisted it, and wrapped it around on top her head, taking his other hand to support the makeshift bun. Her neck looked perfect, almost calling out to him to take one of his hands and run through it and all the way down to her spine. God, it was so tempting.
"So, I should get this dress, yeah?"
"Trust me, you're not going to find anything better."
"For once, Eames, I believe you're right." Their reflections smiled back at the other person. "Eames?" Ariadne's expression turned into one of confusion.
"What is it?"
"You can let go of my hair now."
"Oh," Eames gently pulled his hands away from the bun, unraveling them back into their natural chestnut waves. "Well, I'll meet you out at the front when you're done." He made his way out, but not before stealing one last glance at Ariadne in her gorgeous light green glory. He was relieved that the awkwardness of this day would be over. It was hard for Eames to feel awkward, ever. What was happening to him? What was happening to Ariadne?
Ariadne touched the base of her scalp, where Eames' hand was. She took one last look at herself as a pink flush warmed her cheeks and a little smile spread across her lips.