authors notes: HEY THERE! before you read this please bear in mind this is my first ever fic, so please review and be nice (but of course constructive criticism is always welcome as I do actually want to improve)
I may be making this a two parter, or more, if there's enough interest. so shoot me a review if you'd like a continuation (though I'll probably do it anyway) and I'll try and get the next part out as soon as possible
dedicated of course to lollymc, who bribed, bullied and physically abused me until I wrote this and put it online
so yeah...hope you enjoy :)
Part 1: In which a day is ruined, and innocent watermelons are lost.
Today, Arthur decided, was a good day. His research on their latest mark: the figurehead of a major construction company – whose business rivals tended to go quietly but indefinitely missing - was nearing completion, crisp manila files containing everything there was to know about his family, friends, colleagues and suppliers lying resplendent in their colour coded glory on his desk. (Perfectly spaced and arranged in alphabetical order, of course).
Somewhere below the window a street performer was playing, and he could almost feel the weeks worth of tension slipping away as the dulcet tones of the single violin drifted past him, carried on the soft Parisian breeze. The only sound to be heard from within the warehouse was the rhythmic scratching of pencils as Ariadne got to work on planning the dreamscape they would be trying out in the morning (well, that and the occasional controlled explosion from the corner in which Yusuf was perfecting his latest concoction. But these were occurring less frequently as the day went on, and Arthur had long since become adept at ignoring them). The last, warm rays of afternoon sun played across the back of Arthur's neck as he leaned back in his chair and stretched languidly, hearing his joints creak as he did so. For the first time in a long, long while, he felt completely and utterly at peace.
"Oh Daarling! I'm hoooooome!"
Urgh. Eames. How on earth had he forgotten that the only reason his day had been so perfect was because the insufferable Brit had been out doing whatever constituted 'research' in his bizarre and obscene little world. Arthur barely suppressed a groan at the sound of the forger ascending the stairs. If footsteps could be obnoxious those would be sat naked in his favorite chair, drinking cheap beer and insulting his mother.
Some of Arthur's despair must have shown on his face, because Eames was at his side within seconds of coming through the door.
"Christ pet, you look like someone just tried to set fire to your nan! If I'd known you'd miss me this much I never would've left the warehouse!"
Arthur scowled. "I did not miss you Mr. Eames, quite the opposite in fact."
"Of course love, whatever you say."
Eames held up a hand to stop Arthur's no doubt scathing comeback "Don't worry, I wont tell anyone how madly in love we are, how you secretly pine for my touch, we'll keep it to ourselves, just like all those love letters I found dotted around my work station"
Great. Now the whole team was staring at them. Well, everyone except for Cobb - who was determinedly pretending not to notice, and Saito - who was trying to decide whether he should purchase a 5* hotel, or the island it was situated on. So far he was favoring the island. It seemed neater.
Arthur just sighed at Eames's suggestive eyebrow waggle.
"Eames. You wrote those. And then you left them around the warehouse in the hope that Cobb would find one and have some sort of aneurysm"
At this Cobb took a short break from his feigned disinterest, and attempted to look mildly affronted. Unfortunately, this resulted in a face that bore a surprising resemblance to this: -_-
Somewhere in the world, a puppy died.
Eames, however, was positively scandalised.
"Why Arthur darling! how could you accuse me of such a thing! I demand to see some evidence!"
"You spelt my name wrong. Twice. One time it was with an O. Who else on this team is even capable of that!"
Somewhere in the corner Yusuf let out a chuckle, Eames shot him a hurt look. "Now really pet, you cant keep trying to pass off your own problems onto somebody else, and you shouldn't expect perfect spelling if you will insist upon writing whilst in the throes of passion."
Arthur looked as though someone had just told him Armani were no longer making suits. "The throes of passion!"
"Well lets face it darling, some of those notes you sent me were rather forward. I mean I'm all for public displays of affection but really! On Cobb's desk! He keeps pictures of his children there!"
Cobb's squint deepened. In Japan a sinkhole opened up in the middle of a crowded market place, one watermelon vender was never seen again.
When Saito found out a week later he was appalled at the unexplained damage to one of his assets. Not the melon cart. Japan.
Arthur had had enough. He unleashed what he hoped was a frighteningly intelligent and threatening response, one that would silence Eames's intolerable little jibes for good, sending the forger running for the hills and leaving the rest of the team in awe of his astonishing repartee.
It sounded remarkably like: "pssh! Ckha? Tchuh!"
Eames winked. "I bet you say that to all the boys."
Arthur let out a snarl of pure frustration "You know what! That's it. I give up!" He grabbed the larger man and pulled his face to within a hair's breadth of his own, his fists grasping the collar of his typically hideous shirt with enough force to tear the fabric (it was no great loss. today's choice vaguely resembled an optical illusion Arthur had seen in a book once. He hadn't liked it.)
"This was the first relaxing day I've had in months, and then you come flouncing in with your stupid grin and your smug little British pet names and ruin it! Now I'm going out for a coffee and if you're still within 5 meters of my desk by the time I get back I'm tipping it down your pants! How's that for forward!" And in a final storm of aggravated bureaucracy and finely quaffed hair he was gone.
The team remained in silence for several minutes, each trying to work out what the hell had just happened.
Ariadne wondered whether what she had just witnessed was due to a build up of unalleviated sexual tension between the pair. If so, Yusuf owed her 5 dollars.
Yusuf speculated as to the possibilities of bottling Arthur's rage for use in one of his compounds (If Severus Snape could do it, why not him). He then searched for a camera to capture the look of surprise on Eames's face. While doing so a stray though crossed his mind:
"shit. I think I owe Ariadne 5 dollars"
Eames was trying to figure out the exact point at which Arthur had gone over the edge, and why exactly he was finding it so bloody attractive.
Cobb's expression changed from one of annoyance, to confusion, to concern. They all looked exactly the same.
In the end it was Saito who spoke first, cutting through the silence with a voice as soft as rainwater and smooth as melted chocolate, later the team would hear that voice in their nightmares.
The forger snapped out of his reverie, chills running down his spine as he turned to face the smiling assassin.
"I do hope you haven't broken my point man beyond repair, Mr. Eames. I should hate to lose two members of my team in one day. Besides, forgers really are thin on the ground at the moment; I expect it would take me almost ten minutes to locate a new one.
author's notes: YAY! you read this far! hope you enjoyed the fic, and hopefully the next part will be up soon :)