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Pushover
Hey, remember last week when I posted those inception Care Bears for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
angelgazing, who wrote that AMAZING PIECE OF UTTER JOY AND FUNSUNSHINE that I keep rereading at least once every day? Well, uh, here's another one...
Title: Pushover
Fandom/Characters: Inception/ Arthur+Eames, Ariadne, Cobb
Rating: G for "Great, another silly piece"
Notes: You guys!Only three more days and I'll be able to finally see this movie and then I won't feel like an intruder in this fandom \o/ You should all know that this is all angelgazing's fault! She goes around bribing me with pretty words fully knowing that I can resist anything but a well placed smiley face. Somebody stop her!
angelgazing, who wrote that AMAZING PIECE OF UTTER JOY AND Title: Pushover
Fandom/Characters: Inception/ Arthur+Eames, Ariadne, Cobb
Rating: G for "Great, another silly piece"
Notes: You guys!
angelgazing's fault! She goes around bribing me with pretty words fully knowing that I can resist anything but a well placed smiley face. Somebody stop her!
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You should totally post it to the Arthur/Eames comm so that people will see it! You know they'll love it if you do. You know!
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I'm also 400 words into this story, because it wouldn't start. Would you like to see these words?
Do you see where this is going? :D
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*clicks post-to button* *dives under a rock* You better deliver those words asap! *whimpers*
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Except I sort of am. I totally wanted to have this done by now. ::whines::
You can't see it if you're under a rock, you know!
It starts in the midst of tragedy.
Arthur walks into the practice space straight off a fifteen hour flight and forty-five minutes in Los Angeles traffic. He's wearing jeans, a fedora, a raspberry skinny tie Mal had sent him two weeks ago, his dancing shoes, and a scowl.
What Arthur really wants is a half-gallon of overly sweetened coffee, the sort of old-fashioned diner type breakfast best indulged in at three in the morning after a night of drinking, and to crawl into a bed with sheets that have an indecent thread count and to sleep for the next twelve to fourteen hours. Instead, he's got garment bag, half as many clothes as he'll actually need shoved into a duffle bag, and a headache building behind his eye from the sunshine.
Actually walking into the practice space doesn't help. It's large and open, mirrors along one wall and windows along the other, and half-filled with people, who all stop, turn around, and look at Arthur. The music stops, and his eye twitches.
"What," someone—maybe five-one without her heels, long dark hair, very wide eyes—asks, in a whisper that manages to carry all the way across the room in the sudden silence. "What is he doing here?"
Arthur misses Paris already.
"Lost, mate?" a voice behind him asks, before his exhaustion can answer the first question without his permission. "Junior division is down the hall and to the left."
Arthur turns slowly, his eyebrow raised. He resists the urge to sigh—barely—because it's so typical of the gorgeous ones to make Arthur want to punch them before a conversation can even start. There is a chorus of nervous, twittering laughter. Arthur knows himself well enough to know that, if anything, his expression darkens.
The guy just grins. He's got crinkly eyes, and stupid, crooked teeth, and Arthur hates him on sight just on principle of how much all he can think about is all the filthy sex they could have had, if only he hadn't spoken. His mouth is absolutely pornographic, and Arthur's poor, sleep-deprived brain gets caught there for a second too long.
"Eames," the mouth says, still curled upwards. He holds out his hand, and Arthur, reluctantly, shakes it.
"Arthur," he tells him, and ignores the way half the room exhaled all at once, like they'd just been holding their breath. It makes Eames' eyebrow quirk, for a second, and Arthur presses his knuckles into his eye sockets. He's pretty sure the lights that flash behind his eyelids could double as a flashing neon warning sign.
"Well, Arthur," Eames says, rolling Arthur's name around in his mouth obscenely. Arthur is not impressed, but he can't speak for his dick in the matter. "It is quite the pleasure to meet you."
Arthur snorts. Eames looks confused at everyone else. "Sure," he says, and shrugs his duffle bag higher on his shoulder.
Eames taps the fingers of his left hand against an almost empty water bottle that Arthur had just noticed. He's not dressed for the occasion, except in the loosest of terms. He's got on navy blue yoga pants, a yellow t-shirt that declares his intention to explain through interpretive dance, and tennis shoes.
"Are you sure you belong here?" Arthur asks, because apparently the airline lost his brain to mouth filter.
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*sticks an arm out and yanks the words under the rock where it safe*
♥_____________♥ THIS ARTHUR IS THE BEST ARTHUR! I don't care how long it will take you to write this one, I love it already and I'm totally okay with waiting forever for it <3333333333333333333
(Also, rapberry skinny tie! I am in love ♥)
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Have some more so you don't hate me!
"I honestly can't tell, Arthur," Eames says, still looking at everyone else. Most of them have slipped into hushed conversations, and keep tossing frequent looks in their direction. Arthur ignores them all completely. "Are you a celebrity of some sort, or do you go around kicking small furry animals?"
Arthur blinks, and adjusts the strap on his duffle again. "Seriously," he says, because it's the only thing he can think.
"Oh, darling, I'd be happy to show you just how very much I belong here, if you feel a demonstration is in order." Eames offers his hand, and smirks like he doesn't expect Arthur to take him up on his offer.
Luckily, Cobb chooses that moment to waddle in on crutches, his foot in a giant purple cast. Mal is two steps behind, until she spots Arthur.
She breaks away from Cobb, saying Arthur's name just this side of too loud. Arthur smiles, because it's difficult to hold onto your justified crankiness when Mal is around. She turns him away from Eames by grabbing his face and pulling it toward her, instead, so she can press kisses to each cheek and his mouth. "You are a savior, Arthur," she says, happily, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.
He has to laugh as he returns the hug, because if he didn't miss anything else about this, he's missed her. Cobb, though, does not get as warm a welcome. Arthur points at his cast and says, as sternly as possible, "If that isn't real, Cobb, it will be by the time I'm through with you."
"It was a tragedy, Arthur," Cobb declares, eyes serious.
"Ah," Eames says, looking between the three of them, his mouth twitching like he's trying not to keep grinning. "So it's a little bit of both, then."
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I WON'T EVER BE ABLE TO HATE YOU BECAUSE YOU BRING JOYFUL WORDS INTO MY LIFE! I am beaming already! My heart is coughing up glitter and confetti!
Now go to sleep! *tucks you in*
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Thank you for getting me through my homework!
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Did the "let's pretend" game work? I used to do it a lot when I wasn't motivated to do my schoolwork :)
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Omg, of course you can make an icon! Why are you even asking? <3
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HA Now no one else has an icon as cute as my icon. *loves*
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That's because nobody is as cute as you ;)