Title: The Man Your Man
Characters/Pairing: Eames/Arthur
Rating: PG
Word Count: 666
Spoilers: The movie.
Disclaimer: Inception is Christopher Nolan's amazing creation. I don't own these brilliant characters, except for Cathy. I just made her up on the spot. :P She's harmless though, even if Arthur says otherwise! I also don't own Old Spice.
Arthur'sAuthor's Note: Crack, parody. I make no apologies for this. None, whatsoever. References to dice rolling/D&D. I'm...really not sure how else to explain this.
“Arthur darling, can you tell me why we've suddenly accumulated nothing but Old Spice products in the bathroom?” Eames asks, leaning against the doorway.
The brunet glances up from his papers. He's trying to come up with a good explanation, but slowly realizes there is no good explanation.
“Let me guess. Cathy?”
He gives a helpless shrug.
“Love, why is it that you can never deny her anything but I can't even get a kiss from you?” pouts the British man.
“I kiss you all the time,” Arthur protests. “Besides, it's not my fault you always seem to get the urge to kiss me when we're driving down the highway. Personally, I'd rather you keep your eyes and hands to yourself while we're going at 40 miles an hour. One day, you'll get us killed.”
“Really? That's not what you said last time,” smirks the older man as he saunters across the room, sliding his arms around his boyfriend, nuzzling his neck.
Arthur scowls but eventually caves like a failed soufflé and turns his head, catching the other man's lips in a light kiss.
“So anyway, tell me what she said...”
A Few Days Ago
Arthur stares at the script, and then back to his agent.
His agent, Cathy, who is grinning from ear to ear.
“No, absolutely not.”
“What do you mean, 'no'?”
“It's utterly ridiculous. I'll look like a fool.”
“You will not,” assures the older woman. “I've been in this business for longer than you've been walking and talking.”
“Cathy, you're thirty-one,” he deadpans.
“So?”
“So, unless you've been doing this since you were in diapers, I highly doubt you've been at it for longer than I've 'been walking and talking'.”
“Oh piffle. You always ruin my fun with your logic and common sense,” she laments.
Flipping through the script one more time, Arthur sighs. “All right, fine.”
“Oh, you will?” she claps her hands together in delight. As if she hadn't known he'd say yes. Because he always says yes to her.
One of these days, his capitulation will end up getting him killed, he swears. But for now, he's only taking a D6 roll in damage. And for some reason, for Arthur, his rolls always land on six. Without fail. At least he's not dreaming.
He takes the script home with him, and studies it like everything else he does. With frightening precision and dedication. He has it memorized, verbatim, by morning.
In the audition, he impresses the director.
And there's no contest as to who gets the part.
In the actual filming, he impresses everyone else, especially since the commercial is one single shot. His lines are delivered smooth, collected and with an amount of grace even Cathy didn't know he possesses. It takes three days but it gets done.
“Hello ladies,” Arthur smiles into the camera, his dark eyes promising wicked, wicked things.
“Look at your man. Now back to me. Now back at your man. Now back to me. Sadly, he isn't me...” he picks up a bottle of Old Spice, the foam curling around his fingers. “But if he stopped using lady-scented body wash and switched to Old Spice, he could smell like he's me.”
The scenery suddenly switches from a pristine bathroom to a car, a striped shirt falling from the sky, smoothly landing around his neck.
“Look down. Back up. Where are you? You're in a cab with the man your man could smell like,” Arthur continues.
“What's in your hand? Back at me. I have it. It's that totem you want.” His hand unfurls to reveal a spinning top.
Then all of a sudden, the totem is gone.
“Look again. The totem is now a machine gun. Anything is possible when your man smells like Old Spice and not a lady.”
Arthur's last line is coming up, and he finishes it with his usual skill and perfection as his machine gun swiftly vanishes into nothingness, replaced by another Old Spice bottle.
“I'm on a wall.”
END
Inspired by this:
and by
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=owGykVbfgUE&feature=related.
I'm not sure who made the picture but I thank them for it because it never fails to make me smile. <3
And also, thanks to
sully_is_hott for bringing up Billy Mays' voice which made me think of Old Spice, which made me think of the above picture, which had to be written in fic form. xD
Feedback is, as always, much appreciated. <3