[fic] Eames and the Astounding Pit

[kiyala.livejournal.com]

Title: Eames and the Astounding Pit
Author: kiyala
Word Count: 2,165
Fandom: Inception
Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Rating: PG-13 (mentions of sex)
Disclaimer: Inception is the wonderful brainchild of Christopher Nolan.
Notes: This is a Christmas present for bofish, based on a ridiculous inside-joke. Apologies if this makes sense to nobody else xD This was supposed to be pure crack but then somehow my brain decided to make it more serious? @_@ good job, self.

“Eames, what the fu—” Eames smiles, his hands on Arthur’s shoulders. He gives a gentle push and Arthur stumbles backwards, precisely two steps. Then the ground literally disappears from beneath him, leaving a gaping hole. Arthur falls backwards, scrabbling for something to hold onto. Eames waves, standing at the edge of the pit and looking down as Arthur falls and falls. “Eames,” Arthur yells, and the shock on his face makes way for utter fury, “I hate you.” “Make way!” Eames replies, and moves back to take a running leap. He falls, and by the time he catches up with the Arthur, the point man has his arms folded across his chest. “This is a loop,” Arthur says. He doesn’t turn to look at Eames, but keeps his gaze on the patch of sky above them. “You’ve created a bottomless pit out of a closed loop.” “Paradox,” Eames grins. “I know how much you like them. Besides, it’s not a bottomless pit. There is a bottom, right beneath us. Even if we never reach it.” “My mistake,” Arthur notes dryly. “So what would you like me to call it?” Eames thinks for far too short a time for Arthur to believe he doesn’t already have a prepared answer. “It’s my Astounding Pit.” This time, Arthur turns to Eames, frowning. “You’re joking. Astounding pit.” “Well it’s a pit,” Eames indicates the dark walls of packed dirt, and their jackets are whipping around them from the sensation of falling. “And it’s astounding, if I may say so myself. Did you like how I disguised it? You didn’t even see it coming until you were falling.” “Thank you for reminding me. Are you aware that if either of us had any projections milling about, they would be charging at you for changing something like—oh, replacing the road with a giant pit?” “Oh, Arthur, relax,” Eames, for one, sounds very relaxed for somebody who is falling faster, the more time they spend in the pit. Not that they actually get anywhere, but dreams have always been more about the feel of things, anyway. “The entire point of the Astounding Pit is to keep projections nice and occupied. The dreamer—that would be you—leads them to the pit, gets to a safe distance, and then removes the illusion so the projections start falling.” Arthur is silent for so long that the kick music starts up. Before Eames wakes up, he hears Arthur say, “I like my Penrose Staircase better.” * The first thing Arthur does when they wake up is, as always, take the needle out of his wrist and ensure the PASIV is packed away properly. The second thing he does is punch Eames. “I am not using your goddamn pit,” he growls, and walks back to his desk. Cobb looks at Arthur, who is glaring at his laptop screen, and then at Eames. “Do I want to know?” Eames flashes him a bright smile. “Do you?” Cobb decides that he does not. * Eames had made the decision, years ago, to keep a very distinct line between work and his personal life. Currently, it is the only thing keeping him from bitching at Arthur instead of receiving an amazing blowjob. Well. That and the fact that Arthur’s on his knees with a hungry look in his eyes that always means wonderful things. He leans forward, lips dragging across the sensitive skin of Eames’ thighs, and the forger decides that they can definitely talk about work later. In fact, he puts it off until the next morning when they’re at work, because Arthur’s actually being affectionate with him. Eames knows that this is Arthur’s plan; to keep him distracted to put off their inevitable argument, but a smiling, cuddling Arthur is so rare that Eames will comply no matter what the true motive is behind it. Arthur is sitting at his desk, going through his files, when Eames comes in with a small, takeaway cup of coffee for Arthur and a large one of tea for himself. “You see, Arthur,” he says conversationally, placing the coffee down, “your cup is like your Penrose Stairs. Very effective, I’m sure, but small. My tea? The Astounding Pit. It’s large, and probably works faster. And tastes better.” “You’re using… takeaway cups as an analogy for how your paradox is better than mine?” “And for tea’s superiority over coffee.” “You drink both,” Arthur points out. “In fact, I’ve probably seen you drink coffee more often than tea.” “Oh, Arthur,” Eames sips from his cup. “I’m drinking tea now, aren’t I?” Arthur huffs in frustration and glares at his notes. Cobb lifts his head, looks around and gets up, holding onto his own coffee cup. “Okay,” he says, to nobody in particular, walking to a desk towards the back, far away from the other two. “I really don’t want to know.” * It gets worse that afternoon, when the team is discussing the dreamscape. They have a new architect because as much as they love Ariadne, she’s busy with class. Her name’s Cathy and she tolerates Eames far more than Arthur would like. When they go under and Eames shows off his Astounding Pit, she decides that she likes it. “But my Penrose Staircase—” Arthur begins, and scowls at Eames, as though he is the source of all of life’s problems. “I know you like your Penrose Staircases Arthur,” Cathy pats his arm comfortingly, “but sometimes, it’s good to try new things.” Eames, the fucker, smirks and adds, “Dream a little bigger. Remember?” “And of course,” Arthur grinds out, “to you, bigger translates into pit.” “It’s the Astounding Pit,” Eames corrects. “You’ll need to refer to it by name, thank you.” Arthur gives him a look of outright disgust. “Oh, so this is what they’re arguing over,” Cobb says, once Eames has given them a demonstration of how the pit works, using Arthur as an example. As Arthur fell, he’d grabbed Eames too and the sound of their bickering floats up to where the extractor and architect stand. “Just a pit.” Cathy gives him a pitying look. “Of course, Cobb. Just a pit. Nothing else at all.” * When they wake, Arthur and Eames get into such a heated argument over which paradox to use that Cobb decides they’ll just work it out tomorrow. Of course, considering that the two of them are sharing an apartment, this simply means they take the argument home instead. Their voices are loud, but controlled in an effort not to disturb the neighbours. Arthur paces back and forth in their lounge room, deciding that he’s going to be logical about this. Even if his only piece of logic is Eames, you’re being stupid. Eames’ eyes turn hard at this. As much as he enjoys playing the part of the dimwit just to surprise people later, Arthur is perfectly aware that he is anything but. Eames doesn’t like his intelligence being insulted by people who know better, and nobody knows better than Arthur. “Stupid,” he repeats, his shoulders square, his arms at his sides, “I’m being stupid, Arthur? For imagining up a paradox for you that makes your work easier for you? For letting you dispatch of a crowd of angry projections instead of relying on those bloody stairs that only work one projection at a time.” “Mine actually assists with the architecture,” Arthur points out, “yours would only encourage the projections to attack once the illusion is removed.” “I don’t see the problem with this when they’re attacking anyway.” Arthur gives up, and decides they’re eating dinner. He orders takeaway from the Chinese place down the street and they fume silently as they eat. Eames decides he’s sleeping early, and Arthur takes the couch. They both have a terrible night’s sleep. * “—And then you go under again in this room, while I keep the projections nice and distracted,” Arthur is going through their plan in front of the whiteboard, “Cathy’s designed the office building as a labyrinth and for the stray projections, I’ve got a Penrose—” “No.” “What?” Arthur looks at Eames and scoffs. “You don’t actually expect me to use your pit—for god’s sake, Eames, I’ll be inside.” “It can go inside too.” Cathy sighs silently. Cobb pinches the bridge of his nose. “I having a feeling that the structural integrity of the building might be compromised a little if I dream up a pit—” “But the Astounding Pit—” “Fuck your Astounding Pit!” Arthur snaps. “I’m the dreamer. I’m the point man. The projections are my problem, and I’m using the goddamn staircase.” “Of course.” Eames’ voice goes flat and emotionless. “I see. No—that makes perfect sense.” “Penrose Staircase it is,” Cobb says, smiling weakly at the others. “So, now that’s out of the way—” “Fuck this,” Eames decides, and leaves. “Eames, get back here,” Arthur orders. “Kiss my arse,” Eames replies, not looking back and slamming the door behind him. A silence settles around them, until Cathy gives Arthur a pointed look and clears her throat. “Oh f—fine,” Arthur spits, and stalks out after him. * Eames is leaning against the car, an unlit cigarette between his lips. He doesn’t bother searching for his lighter, because he knows that it’s sitting on his desk, and he hadn’t stopped to retrieve it on his way out. He doesn’t look up when Arthur stands in front of him. With a sigh, Arthur pulls his lighter out and Eames takes it with a grunt of appreciation, lighting his own cigarette, and then the one Arthur pulls out for himself. They smoke in silence, and it isn’t until Arthur has finished half his cigarette that he says, “We need to talk.” “Right.” “We’ve got a problem here, and it’s affecting our work. We need to sort it out. Now, before we continue with this job.” “How nice of you to decide that for us, Arthur,” Eames smiles, but it’s all teeth and no sincerity. “What is that supposed to mean?” “It means I’m bloody sick of you making all the decisions between us. You decide when we’re fighting, you decide when we fuck, you decide which paradox we’re using. Give me a little credit, Arthur—” “I would if you took things a little more seriously,” Arthur snaps. “If everything wasn’t just a joke to you.” “A joke,” Eames repeats, crushing his cigarette butt beneath his heel and pulling Arthur into a kiss that catches him entirely surprise. When they pull apart, Eames’ voice is a touch softer. “This isn’t a joke to me. It never has been. I need you to trust me.” They’re standing so close to each other that their breath ghosts over each other’s lips. Arthur doesn’t move away when he speaks, “I do. And then you do something like pushing me into that pit.” Eames grins, unabashed. “Well, I jumped in after you, didn’t I?” Arthur chuckles, pressing his lips to Eames’. “Yeah, okay, you did. Come on, let’s go back inside. I’ve got an idea.” * The four of them go under again, to take another look at the dreamscape, and Arthur is the one who walks them through it. “You’ll be on this floor—seven—and I’ll be fighting off the projections below, on level six.” He points at the stairwell that connects the levels, “I’ve got a Penrose Staircase there. It’ll help me hold off the first few projections. The subject isn’t militarised so there shouldn’t be much trouble.” Cobb nods, but Cathy looks expectant. With a quiet breath, Arthur glances at Eames before he continues. “I’ll draw any other projections out into the corridor on six, run the length of it to get some distance, and then I turn the corridor into the…” “Say it,” Eames says with a grin. “The Astounding Pit,” Arthur finishes, his eyes fixed on Eames, and a small grin at the corner of his lips. “Which is looped with level five,” Eames picks up the explanation, “to give the projections the sense of continual falling, which should keep them nice and occupied.” Arthur nods. “That’ll hold them off until your dose of somnacin runs out. You’ll have the information, and we’ll get out of there.” Eames grins at Arthur. “Let’s see you dream up the Astounding Pit, then.” Arthur leads the way to the elevators and Eames follows with an enthusiasm that has very little to do with building paradoxes. “So they settled for both,” Cobb says and shrugs at Cathy. “Whatever works, I guess.” “Took them a bit longer than I would’ve liked,” she replies, “but what can you do?” “Wait, you knew this would happen? With the arguing? And using both of their ideas in the end?” Cathy laughs. “Of course I did. Don’t be upset—they had to work it out on their own.” “Okay, I get that,” Cobb folds his arms across his chest, “but next time, do you think you could warn me?”

x

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[kiyala.livejournal.com]

Thank you :D