Fic: Zero Damage
Title: Zero Damage
Author: zeto
Pairing: Eames/Arthur
Rating: R
Word Count: 1200~
Spoilers: The movie, I guess? X_x
Disclaimer: Inception is Christopher Nolan's amazing creation. I don't own these brilliant characters.
Summary: I blame this entire thing on dakunut, just so you know.
Arthur stares at Eames' DVD shelf. He tries to disguise the aghast horror on his face but he is fairly certain he's failing quite, quite miserably. Sluggishly, as though he's trapped in quicksand or trying to move through water, he reaches out and plucks a thin movie case from its perch. Turning slowly, he revolves the plastic box in his hands, trying to make sense of it.
The cover is graced by two women and two men. That in itself isn't strange. It's the way the women are making out with one another, and the way the men apparently don't believe in the concept of 'personal space' that has Arthur wondering. Then again, it is Eames. That's the best explanation Arthur can come up with.
“What's the matter, darling? You look confused,” Eames enters the living room bearing two mugs of piping hot cocoa laden with marshmallows.
Jumping, Arthur fumbles and drops the movie. Luckily, his cat-like reflexes save the day and he catches the movie before it hits the carpet. But then he drops it again, as though it's burned him. This time, he doesn't bother to try and rescue it.
“Eames,” he slowly speaks, not quite certain how to phrase his question. “Why do you have a movie called Rectal Damage?”
To the Forger's credit, he doesn't blush or even bat an eye. “Would 'I was young and stupid' suffice for an excuse?”
“Well, the 'young' part you've clearly outgrown but somehow I think the 'stupid' is still lingering in there,” Arthur dryly replies before snagging his drink and sipping at the cocoa.
“Ouch,” Eames clutches at his heart. “That hurts, Arthur. Right. Here.”
The brunet refrains from rolling his eyes. “Isn't your heart on the left side of your chest?”
“Ah, but what if I have dextrocardia?” counters Eames as he gulps the cocoa.
The Point Man's eyebrows shoot up, and Eames catches the look.
“Why yes, darling, your boyfriend does know words with more than four syllables,” he says dryly. “So you might want to re-think the 'stupid' adjective.”
Arthur's lips quirk up and he finishes off his drink to hide it. “Are you trying to change the subject on me?”
“No. Is it working?”
“Not a chance.”
Eames can't help but laugh. “All right, I'll tell you the truth. It was a gag birthday gift from my last girlfriend.”
“You keep things from your exes?” Arthur hasn't considered the fact that Eames could be sentimental.
“Well, when things ended, it's never been on bad terms. Actually, I'm still on talking terms with most of them. You don't mind, do you?” Eames asks curiously.
“Of course not,” comes the immediate reply.
“I like to think that you can judge a person based on how they end their relationships,” continues the Forger.
Arthur is taken aback, but not unpleasantly so. He'd never expected such depth from the other man. It appears Eames is just full of surprises today, and it makes Arthur glad.
Just as they hunker down and settle in for a little one-on-one on the Game Cube, Eames' cellphone goes off. Arthur resists the urge to smile when he recognizes the opening strains of Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien. Rising to his feet, he heads into the kitchen with their empty mugs and retrieves a couple of pieces of fruit in the meantime.
When he returns, Eames rattling off about taunts and foot stomps.
“So what's the detail on the DPs?” Eames asks his buddy over the phone. The way he phrases it rhymes with “teepees”.
Arthur nibbles on a stemmed plum while this goes on. He nearly chokes on his piece of fruit, absolutely certain he's misheard the other man. Or at least, absolutely hoping he's misheard Eames.
Then he realizes it's a game-related thing. Computer games online, to be precise. City of Heroes, to be specific.
“You mean D.P.S. Not....DPs,” he corrects absently as he bites down on the plum. He stops, mid-chew, frowns and then slowly slides his fingers into his mouth. Somehow managing to look graceful, Arthur pulls out the stem from his plum.
Inwardly, he blames Eames for his blunder. The man is entirely too distracting.
It's Damage Per Second. Not Double.... Er, not the things people really only see in porn movies. Like...Rectal Damage, probably. Not that Arthur's seen the movie. He guesses though. With a title like that, anything is possible.
It makes him wonder if Eames actually watched it. He doesn't ask though, half afraid of what the answer is.
After a couple rounds later, and Arthur being schooled in Mario Kart, he returns the favour in SoulCalibur on the Xbox 360.
“If you want to really make this fun, we should take a drink for every round lost,” Eames remarks ever so casually.
Arthur eyes him in disbelief. “You want to take me on in SoulCal with shots? I just kicked your ass and I'm not even trying,” he exclaims with a laugh as he goes to locate a few bottles of beer.
Fifteen minutes later, he's not laughing as Eames wipes the floor with him using Olcadan. Seong Mi-na takes a less-than-graceful dive off the edge of the platform. A zero damage win for the owl man. What the hell?
“Looks like she won't be waking up anytime soon,” the older man says cheerfully as Arthur swigs from his bottle and empties it.
He glares at Eames and then eyes his yet-unopened bottle. “You were playing me the entire time.”
Eames shrugs and smiles innocently. He cracks his bottle open and takes a sip. “Perhaps.”
Later that night, as they retire to the bedroom, Arthur stops dead in the doorway. “Is that a....? Where on earth did you get that shark?”
“It's adorable, isn't it?” Eames smiles proudly. “I call her Whimsy.”
“...You named a stuffed animal 'Whimsy'?” Arthur crosses the room and picks it up, studying it with a perplexed little furrow in his brow. He's surprised at its soft, velvety fur, and he finds himself unable to resist petting it.
“Of course. I thought it was a perfectly whimsical name,” he quips. “I won that, along with a pink tricycle for Phillipa and a giant stuffed koala bear for James when I took them to the carnival last week. Want to guess what the koala's name is?”
The only answer he gets in reply is a face full of Whimsy.
“That was the worst pun I have ever heard in my life,” Arthur proclaims.
The pillow fight that ensues takes them all around the apartment. Eames wins the upperhand on the couch but he's knocked down a couple of pegs in the kitchen. Finally, he's backed into a corner in the closet and he surrenders, holding his hands up and handing over his pillow.
As Arthur leans in and presses his lips against Eames', he drops the pillow and Whimsy, and captures Eames' tanned wrists, trapping them against the back of the wardrobe. The kiss is a little hungry, messy and perfectly hot. It tastes a little bit like alcohol and the last remnants of hot cocoa.
“The name we decided on is,” he murmurs against the younger man's lips, “Padlock.”
END
A/N: The prompts I was given: Rectal damage, padlock, the phrase "Where on earth did you get that shark?", marshmallows, there needs to be a pink tricycle somewhere in this, annnndddddddddddd pillow fights. dakunut darling, I hope you liked this fic!
Feedback is much appreciated, darlings.
Author: zeto
Pairing: Eames/Arthur
Rating: R
Word Count: 1200~
Spoilers: The movie, I guess? X_x
Disclaimer: Inception is Christopher Nolan's amazing creation. I don't own these brilliant characters.
Summary: I blame this entire thing on dakunut, just so you know.
Arthur stares at Eames' DVD shelf. He tries to disguise the aghast horror on his face but he is fairly certain he's failing quite, quite miserably. Sluggishly, as though he's trapped in quicksand or trying to move through water, he reaches out and plucks a thin movie case from its perch. Turning slowly, he revolves the plastic box in his hands, trying to make sense of it.
The cover is graced by two women and two men. That in itself isn't strange. It's the way the women are making out with one another, and the way the men apparently don't believe in the concept of 'personal space' that has Arthur wondering. Then again, it is Eames. That's the best explanation Arthur can come up with.
“What's the matter, darling? You look confused,” Eames enters the living room bearing two mugs of piping hot cocoa laden with marshmallows.
Jumping, Arthur fumbles and drops the movie. Luckily, his cat-like reflexes save the day and he catches the movie before it hits the carpet. But then he drops it again, as though it's burned him. This time, he doesn't bother to try and rescue it.
“Eames,” he slowly speaks, not quite certain how to phrase his question. “Why do you have a movie called Rectal Damage?”
To the Forger's credit, he doesn't blush or even bat an eye. “Would 'I was young and stupid' suffice for an excuse?”
“Well, the 'young' part you've clearly outgrown but somehow I think the 'stupid' is still lingering in there,” Arthur dryly replies before snagging his drink and sipping at the cocoa.
“Ouch,” Eames clutches at his heart. “That hurts, Arthur. Right. Here.”
The brunet refrains from rolling his eyes. “Isn't your heart on the left side of your chest?”
“Ah, but what if I have dextrocardia?” counters Eames as he gulps the cocoa.
The Point Man's eyebrows shoot up, and Eames catches the look.
“Why yes, darling, your boyfriend does know words with more than four syllables,” he says dryly. “So you might want to re-think the 'stupid' adjective.”
Arthur's lips quirk up and he finishes off his drink to hide it. “Are you trying to change the subject on me?”
“No. Is it working?”
“Not a chance.”
Eames can't help but laugh. “All right, I'll tell you the truth. It was a gag birthday gift from my last girlfriend.”
“You keep things from your exes?” Arthur hasn't considered the fact that Eames could be sentimental.
“Well, when things ended, it's never been on bad terms. Actually, I'm still on talking terms with most of them. You don't mind, do you?” Eames asks curiously.
“Of course not,” comes the immediate reply.
“I like to think that you can judge a person based on how they end their relationships,” continues the Forger.
Arthur is taken aback, but not unpleasantly so. He'd never expected such depth from the other man. It appears Eames is just full of surprises today, and it makes Arthur glad.
Just as they hunker down and settle in for a little one-on-one on the Game Cube, Eames' cellphone goes off. Arthur resists the urge to smile when he recognizes the opening strains of Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien. Rising to his feet, he heads into the kitchen with their empty mugs and retrieves a couple of pieces of fruit in the meantime.
When he returns, Eames rattling off about taunts and foot stomps.
“So what's the detail on the DPs?” Eames asks his buddy over the phone. The way he phrases it rhymes with “teepees”.
Arthur nibbles on a stemmed plum while this goes on. He nearly chokes on his piece of fruit, absolutely certain he's misheard the other man. Or at least, absolutely hoping he's misheard Eames.
Then he realizes it's a game-related thing. Computer games online, to be precise. City of Heroes, to be specific.
“You mean D.P.S. Not....DPs,” he corrects absently as he bites down on the plum. He stops, mid-chew, frowns and then slowly slides his fingers into his mouth. Somehow managing to look graceful, Arthur pulls out the stem from his plum.
Inwardly, he blames Eames for his blunder. The man is entirely too distracting.
It's Damage Per Second. Not Double.... Er, not the things people really only see in porn movies. Like...Rectal Damage, probably. Not that Arthur's seen the movie. He guesses though. With a title like that, anything is possible.
It makes him wonder if Eames actually watched it. He doesn't ask though, half afraid of what the answer is.
After a couple rounds later, and Arthur being schooled in Mario Kart, he returns the favour in SoulCalibur on the Xbox 360.
“If you want to really make this fun, we should take a drink for every round lost,” Eames remarks ever so casually.
Arthur eyes him in disbelief. “You want to take me on in SoulCal with shots? I just kicked your ass and I'm not even trying,” he exclaims with a laugh as he goes to locate a few bottles of beer.
Fifteen minutes later, he's not laughing as Eames wipes the floor with him using Olcadan. Seong Mi-na takes a less-than-graceful dive off the edge of the platform. A zero damage win for the owl man. What the hell?
“Looks like she won't be waking up anytime soon,” the older man says cheerfully as Arthur swigs from his bottle and empties it.
He glares at Eames and then eyes his yet-unopened bottle. “You were playing me the entire time.”
Eames shrugs and smiles innocently. He cracks his bottle open and takes a sip. “Perhaps.”
Later that night, as they retire to the bedroom, Arthur stops dead in the doorway. “Is that a....? Where on earth did you get that shark?”
“It's adorable, isn't it?” Eames smiles proudly. “I call her Whimsy.”
“...You named a stuffed animal 'Whimsy'?” Arthur crosses the room and picks it up, studying it with a perplexed little furrow in his brow. He's surprised at its soft, velvety fur, and he finds himself unable to resist petting it.
“Of course. I thought it was a perfectly whimsical name,” he quips. “I won that, along with a pink tricycle for Phillipa and a giant stuffed koala bear for James when I took them to the carnival last week. Want to guess what the koala's name is?”
The only answer he gets in reply is a face full of Whimsy.
“That was the worst pun I have ever heard in my life,” Arthur proclaims.
The pillow fight that ensues takes them all around the apartment. Eames wins the upperhand on the couch but he's knocked down a couple of pegs in the kitchen. Finally, he's backed into a corner in the closet and he surrenders, holding his hands up and handing over his pillow.
As Arthur leans in and presses his lips against Eames', he drops the pillow and Whimsy, and captures Eames' tanned wrists, trapping them against the back of the wardrobe. The kiss is a little hungry, messy and perfectly hot. It tastes a little bit like alcohol and the last remnants of hot cocoa.
“The name we decided on is,” he murmurs against the younger man's lips, “Padlock.”
END
A/N: The prompts I was given: Rectal damage, padlock, the phrase "Where on earth did you get that shark?", marshmallows, there needs to be a pink tricycle somewhere in this, annnndddddddddddd pillow fights. dakunut darling, I hope you liked this fic!
Feedback is much appreciated, darlings.