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cmk418So, I watched "Inception". Twice. Could have done without Mal, but I liked the story and the effects were great. Also great, the inherent slashiness of Arthur and Eames.
So, in honor of that comes this little ficlet. And if anyone knows of fics for this pairing that they would recommend, please send a link my way.
REFLECTIONS OF THE PAST, DREAMS OF THE FUTURE
Arthur watched as Eames signaled the bartender to bring them another round. Scotch, neat. The first glass burned on its way down, but gradually the effect lessened and he was left with a pleasant all-over warm feeling.
At least, he was blaming it on the scotch and not on Eames.
This place seemed familiar. The reflected glow of the neon sign from across the street into the mirror behind the bar reminded him of a place where he and his college roommate used to go.
“We didn’t drink scotch,” Arthur said, absently.
“Excuse me?” Eames said.
“Tequila. Body shots.”
“Why, Arthur, I’m impressed.”
“This is a violation.”
“Surely, you can afford me a little fun. Perhaps even afford yourself some while you’re at it.”
“I’m getting out.”
Eames gripped him lightly around the wrist. “Not yet. Please.”
“Why? So you can insinuate yourself further into my subconscious.”
“Now, we both know that I couldn’t remain here if you didn’t want it. Your projections would make sure of that.”
“Just let me finish my drink in peace.”
“Probably not wise to mix them like that. You’ll awaken with a headache.”
Arthur didn’t need to look down to know that the bartender had put a shot of tequila in front of him.
“So the other half of this ‘we’, the one you did the body shots with… nice girl?”
“Stop it. Just stop now, please.”
“Or not so much.”
Eames’ voice had changed slightly, but just enough to get Arthur to glance in the mirror behind the bar. Sitting next to him wasn’t Eames, but Craig, his roommate in college.
“Pleasant dream,” Eames whispered, making the subtle transformational shifts right before Arthur’s eyes.
Music caught his attention. The soft vocals of Edith Piaf played over a muted television commercial. “Not much longer.”
Arthur heard the whispered “no” then felt Eames’ lips brush his own.
The music built to a crescendo and then they were there, back in the warehouse, slowly opening their eyes.
Arthur looked over at Eames. The dream had faded quickly, but he felt that Eames… that Eames had something that he needed.
“Five more minutes?” Arthur offered.
Eames smiled.
So, in honor of that comes this little ficlet. And if anyone knows of fics for this pairing that they would recommend, please send a link my way.
REFLECTIONS OF THE PAST, DREAMS OF THE FUTURE
Arthur watched as Eames signaled the bartender to bring them another round. Scotch, neat. The first glass burned on its way down, but gradually the effect lessened and he was left with a pleasant all-over warm feeling.
At least, he was blaming it on the scotch and not on Eames.
This place seemed familiar. The reflected glow of the neon sign from across the street into the mirror behind the bar reminded him of a place where he and his college roommate used to go.
“We didn’t drink scotch,” Arthur said, absently.
“Excuse me?” Eames said.
“Tequila. Body shots.”
“Why, Arthur, I’m impressed.”
“This is a violation.”
“Surely, you can afford me a little fun. Perhaps even afford yourself some while you’re at it.”
“I’m getting out.”
Eames gripped him lightly around the wrist. “Not yet. Please.”
“Why? So you can insinuate yourself further into my subconscious.”
“Now, we both know that I couldn’t remain here if you didn’t want it. Your projections would make sure of that.”
“Just let me finish my drink in peace.”
“Probably not wise to mix them like that. You’ll awaken with a headache.”
Arthur didn’t need to look down to know that the bartender had put a shot of tequila in front of him.
“So the other half of this ‘we’, the one you did the body shots with… nice girl?”
“Stop it. Just stop now, please.”
“Or not so much.”
Eames’ voice had changed slightly, but just enough to get Arthur to glance in the mirror behind the bar. Sitting next to him wasn’t Eames, but Craig, his roommate in college.
“Pleasant dream,” Eames whispered, making the subtle transformational shifts right before Arthur’s eyes.
Music caught his attention. The soft vocals of Edith Piaf played over a muted television commercial. “Not much longer.”
Arthur heard the whispered “no” then felt Eames’ lips brush his own.
The music built to a crescendo and then they were there, back in the warehouse, slowly opening their eyes.
Arthur looked over at Eames. The dream had faded quickly, but he felt that Eames… that Eames had something that he needed.
“Five more minutes?” Arthur offered.
Eames smiled.
