Fic: A Current Condition (Arthur/Eames)
Title: A Current Condition
Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Rating: So very G.
Summary: Arthur is a blueberry muffin. Yeah, I don't know why I do this.
Disclaimer: I don't think Nolan would endorse this if his life depended on it.
Arthur was a blueberry muffin.
It had begun gradually. On Monday, he had looked down to see smears of pink, sugary cream on his sleeve. He had thought nothing of it (beyond that it explained why Eames had been eyeing him more hungrily than usual) and wiped it swiftly and efficiently on the side of a table. Arthur prided himself on his swiftness and efficiency. When he was young, his grandfather had been his role model, and he’d adopted his motto (‘Nothing shalt get past thee, nothing shalt escape thee, and thy suits shalt always be Armani’). However, things got odder and odder over the course of the week without Arthur being able to rationalize them. Dollops of icing decorated his forehead on Tuesday. On Wednesday, a distinct scent of berries clung to him. Paper wrapping stuck to his shoes all day on Thursday. And on Friday, Arthur could swear he was beginning to feel almost….fluffy.
The fluffiness defeated him. Damning his pride and dignity to hell, Arthur pulled aside Yusuf on Saturday morning and led him to a dark corner of the warehouse.
‘Um, Arthur?’ Yusuf says, glancing around nervously. ‘I don’t care how much you want to jump me, I’m still shit scared of Eames.’
Arthur glares at Yusuf. ‘How are the two facts even related?’
Yusuf looks shifty. ‘Well…’
‘Never mind, I don’t want to know. Pay attention. We’ve got a problem.’
*****************
(It takes three tries before Arthur can choke out the word fluffy and Yusuf can discuss abnormal metamorphic reactions to Somnacin with a straight face, and dammit, by the end of it he’s still laughing)
*****************
One week later, it happens. Even though Yusuf gave Arthur a bottle of violently blue pills and Arthur took them - taking a calculated amount of extra dosage at precisely 10:23 p.m. so as not to interfere with his sleep schedule - it happens.
Stupid Yusuf. He probably didn’t even listen when Arthur told him about the trail of breadcrumbs he was leaving around his bedroom.
Arthur turns into a blueberry muffin as Cobb is giving them the profile of the latest mark. Arthur had chosen a seat behind Eames so Eames wouldn’t kick him, but he now regrets this because when he shrinks down with a pop! Eames is the first to turn around and gape.
‘What the hell is that?’ Eames says, sounding befuddled. Cobb stops midway and the rest of the team swivel round to stare at Arthur as well. Arthur wishes he had hands so he could punch Eames.
‘A muffin,’ Ariadne says. ‘Look, it has currants!’ She reaches out her hand but Yusuf brushes it away (thank God, that man has some vestige of a conscience).
‘Actually,’ Yusuf mutters, shuffling his feet. ‘That’s Arthur.’
‘Of course it is,’ Cobb says impatiently. ‘Now, if we could get back to the job - ‘
‘That’s a muffin, Cobb!’ Ariadne squeals. ‘You need glasses! And so does Yusuf!’
Yusuf adopts a long suffering expression. ‘Arthur’s having an adverse reaction to Somnacin. It’s common. He’ll be like this for a few hours, no more. Just ignore him, I’m sure he’s embarrassed -’ (and if Arthur despised Yusuf before, his fury and hatred are now all encompassing)
‘Great,’ Cobb says. ‘Can I talk now?’
‘One minute,’ Eames says, his voice soft and silky and dangerous. ‘May I keep him for the duration of his - ah - torment?’
Cobb nods.
Keep him? Keep him? Arthur tries to flail and fails miserably.
Eames picks Arthur up and fits his warm, sugary roundness into the palm of his hand. For an instant they just stare at one another, Arthur’s tiny current eyes gazing apprehensively into Eames’ grey ones, and then Eames smiles. ‘Well, aren’t you the little one, then.’
Arthur spends the morning held against Eames’ chest. He justifies this by telling himself that the wind feels cold on his baked parts and Eames’ steady grip is keeping him from crumbling. He is somewhat terrified that Eames is going to eat him or at the very least break off a piece of him, but Eames simply gathers him in and cuddles.
Arthur could get used to that.
He transforms back around 1 pm, when Eames has put him down to go into the nearby café for lunch, and when Eames comes back Arthur is stretching out on the couch of the warehouse, yawning.
‘Ah,’ Eames sighs. ‘Knew it was too good to last.’
‘I hope you enjoyed that,’ Arthur says snidely. But it’s difficult to muster up the energy to snap at Eames - being a muffin, even temporarily, is draining - and Arthur wonders if he can let go, just this once. ‘Hey, Eames?’
‘Yeah?’
‘Do you want to...maybe… -’ The tips of Arthur’s ears are turning red, this is one thing he’s terrible at, why did he even…
‘I do,’ Eames says, smiling, and when the sunlight slants across his face Arthur goes a little weak at the knees.
‘Right, then,’ he hears himself say. Eames reaches over and plucks a breadcrumb from his hair.
Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Rating: So very G.
Summary: Arthur is a blueberry muffin. Yeah, I don't know why I do this.
Disclaimer: I don't think Nolan would endorse this if his life depended on it.
Arthur was a blueberry muffin.
It had begun gradually. On Monday, he had looked down to see smears of pink, sugary cream on his sleeve. He had thought nothing of it (beyond that it explained why Eames had been eyeing him more hungrily than usual) and wiped it swiftly and efficiently on the side of a table. Arthur prided himself on his swiftness and efficiency. When he was young, his grandfather had been his role model, and he’d adopted his motto (‘Nothing shalt get past thee, nothing shalt escape thee, and thy suits shalt always be Armani’). However, things got odder and odder over the course of the week without Arthur being able to rationalize them. Dollops of icing decorated his forehead on Tuesday. On Wednesday, a distinct scent of berries clung to him. Paper wrapping stuck to his shoes all day on Thursday. And on Friday, Arthur could swear he was beginning to feel almost….fluffy.
The fluffiness defeated him. Damning his pride and dignity to hell, Arthur pulled aside Yusuf on Saturday morning and led him to a dark corner of the warehouse.
‘Um, Arthur?’ Yusuf says, glancing around nervously. ‘I don’t care how much you want to jump me, I’m still shit scared of Eames.’
Arthur glares at Yusuf. ‘How are the two facts even related?’
Yusuf looks shifty. ‘Well…’
‘Never mind, I don’t want to know. Pay attention. We’ve got a problem.’
*****************
(It takes three tries before Arthur can choke out the word fluffy and Yusuf can discuss abnormal metamorphic reactions to Somnacin with a straight face, and dammit, by the end of it he’s still laughing)
*****************
One week later, it happens. Even though Yusuf gave Arthur a bottle of violently blue pills and Arthur took them - taking a calculated amount of extra dosage at precisely 10:23 p.m. so as not to interfere with his sleep schedule - it happens.
Stupid Yusuf. He probably didn’t even listen when Arthur told him about the trail of breadcrumbs he was leaving around his bedroom.
Arthur turns into a blueberry muffin as Cobb is giving them the profile of the latest mark. Arthur had chosen a seat behind Eames so Eames wouldn’t kick him, but he now regrets this because when he shrinks down with a pop! Eames is the first to turn around and gape.
‘What the hell is that?’ Eames says, sounding befuddled. Cobb stops midway and the rest of the team swivel round to stare at Arthur as well. Arthur wishes he had hands so he could punch Eames.
‘A muffin,’ Ariadne says. ‘Look, it has currants!’ She reaches out her hand but Yusuf brushes it away (thank God, that man has some vestige of a conscience).
‘Actually,’ Yusuf mutters, shuffling his feet. ‘That’s Arthur.’
‘Of course it is,’ Cobb says impatiently. ‘Now, if we could get back to the job - ‘
‘That’s a muffin, Cobb!’ Ariadne squeals. ‘You need glasses! And so does Yusuf!’
Yusuf adopts a long suffering expression. ‘Arthur’s having an adverse reaction to Somnacin. It’s common. He’ll be like this for a few hours, no more. Just ignore him, I’m sure he’s embarrassed -’ (and if Arthur despised Yusuf before, his fury and hatred are now all encompassing)
‘Great,’ Cobb says. ‘Can I talk now?’
‘One minute,’ Eames says, his voice soft and silky and dangerous. ‘May I keep him for the duration of his - ah - torment?’
Cobb nods.
Keep him? Keep him? Arthur tries to flail and fails miserably.
Eames picks Arthur up and fits his warm, sugary roundness into the palm of his hand. For an instant they just stare at one another, Arthur’s tiny current eyes gazing apprehensively into Eames’ grey ones, and then Eames smiles. ‘Well, aren’t you the little one, then.’
Arthur spends the morning held against Eames’ chest. He justifies this by telling himself that the wind feels cold on his baked parts and Eames’ steady grip is keeping him from crumbling. He is somewhat terrified that Eames is going to eat him or at the very least break off a piece of him, but Eames simply gathers him in and cuddles.
Arthur could get used to that.
He transforms back around 1 pm, when Eames has put him down to go into the nearby café for lunch, and when Eames comes back Arthur is stretching out on the couch of the warehouse, yawning.
‘Ah,’ Eames sighs. ‘Knew it was too good to last.’
‘I hope you enjoyed that,’ Arthur says snidely. But it’s difficult to muster up the energy to snap at Eames - being a muffin, even temporarily, is draining - and Arthur wonders if he can let go, just this once. ‘Hey, Eames?’
‘Yeah?’
‘Do you want to...maybe… -’ The tips of Arthur’s ears are turning red, this is one thing he’s terrible at, why did he even…
‘I do,’ Eames says, smiling, and when the sunlight slants across his face Arthur goes a little weak at the knees.
‘Right, then,’ he hears himself say. Eames reaches over and plucks a breadcrumb from his hair.