Title: The Process of Getting to Know Each Other
Inspiration: The fact that so many Eames/Arthur chats happen in bars. I like the thought of them in a bar
Disclaimer: Rawr. That's dinosaur for "I don't own Inception or any of the characters."
Note: It. Has. Dialogue. SO. MUCH. DIALOGUE. Okay, it's really not that much, but way more than Routines usually have.
Uhm. Also? I'm running out of idea? *sheepish grin* I've got, like, one more rattling around up here but after that... And I'd really like to not stop writing this so... Suggestions? Please and Thank you!
It doesn't happen in a bar, for starters.
It's not some fancy French cafe or high-end Italian restaurant either. Just your run-of-the-mill New York City diner.
That's probably just because they're in America, for once, and it's only nine in the morning which is too early for a drink even in Eames' book. Especially since the job didn't go that bad; didn't go bad at all and in fact even went rather well. Additionally, he's too young to drink so even if Eames did want a bar, it wouldn't have been very fun. But Eames doesn't want a drink, he's just hungry for the sort of food that only a diner in New York can provide.
He sits across from Eames, looking only slightly out of place. "Out of place" because that is a suit he's wearing after all and this is not the sort of establishment one would dress up to dine in. "Slightly" because there's a pan of utter exhaustion that is settled over his shoulders and features that lends itself to the perfect diner-goer persona (and that Eames' finds ridiculously adorable but he wouldn't admit that).
They order coffee, except Eames changes his to hot chocolate of all things halfway through and then the waitress leaves them after also taking down their orders for food. "It went well, yeah?" Eames asks, pulling the other man's (boy's) attention from the snow gently falling out the window.
He blinks and then nods. "I suppose so. Dom certainly seemed pleased with everything."
Eames grins at that. "Dom was pleased because Mal was pleased."
Eames is granted a slight smile for that and a conceding nod. "That is true." And then the drinks arrive and he set about preparing his coffee while Eames' enjoys the first slow sips of his chocolate. His eyes follow the precise movements of his guest, as if it was a finely tuned and choreographed dance within itself or something. He notices the audience then and one eyebrow raises. Eames offers a toothy, over-tired grin in response and watches him chuckle soundlessly, turning his head into the cup. "Where did Dom find you?" Eames wants to know.
He shakes his head though and Eames thinks he won't tell for a moment. The man has guarded his last name even so why not hide the rest of it? But as he sets the coffee cup on the counter, he offers just a correction, not an evasion. "Mal. It was Mal who found me. Or, well, her father truthfully, I suppose."
"Hold now," Eames interrupts, impressed. "You've met the elusive Miles, then?"
He cants that eyebrow up again. "Yes, shouldn't I have? He gave a lecture at my college, in my freshman year. And I brought up a question that interested him."
Eames' turn to lift an eyebrow. "What was the question?" He coughs and offers a mumble into his coffee. Eames leans forward. "What was that, sorry?"
He rolls his eyes because he knows Eames didn't hear and was counting on it in fact. Clearing his throat, he settles his spine straight and repeats himself, "I asked whether it would be possible to insert an idea into a dream rather than steal one."
Eames takes a pause. "Are you telling me that you proposed Inception, darling?" he asks, cup paused halfway to his lips.
He rolled his eyes in response and shook his head. "No, I merely asked if it was possible in the span of that lecture. It had been thought of and even attempted well before that, Mr. Eames."
Eames flashes a grin that's nearly predatory. "Oh darling, just Sean, please. We're all friends here, yes?"
On the word "friend," he tries not to smile but doesn't quite succeed. "Sean," says it slow as if trying the syllables out. "Sean. Now, is that a name that truly belongs to you or just one of the many?"
Eames smiles and shrugs and tosses him a casual, "Well, what do you think?" He thinks that he'll never really know, will he, so what does it matter? He goes back to his coffee, halfway through getting his runny eggs and toast from the waitress. She's not all that attractive he notes: not quite middle-aged with tired, tired eyes and frizzy hair. Eames flirts with her all the same as she set down his soup. Eames grins ridiculously up at her because, well, she looks like she needs a grin. She smiles back a bit wearily but cheerfully all the same and Eames feels as if he's done his part. The hot chocolate clashes ridiculously with the chicken-and-rice but he doesn't mind all that much.
"So what about you?"
The questions startles Eames. He wasn't really expecting anything like a question from him. Point Man and all that, right? Shouldn't he know everything already? As it is, he isn't quite sure what he's actually asking. "Sorry, what about me?"
"How'd you get into the business?"
Eames swallows a spoonful of soup and considers that carefully. He could talk about the military. About prep school and knowing a guy who knew a guy who knew a guy who was in the business. He could say that Mal was an old friend; Dom an older business acquaintance. Could say he was an aristocrat a lifetime ago who had been trained to withstand extraction. That he was a street urchin with an uncanny ability to mimic just about anyone. "Oh, you know, darling. Just sort of fell into it, didn't I?"
He frowns and purses his lips and drinks his coffee. Eames knows that he's trying to work things out, figure the real story from all the possibilities. And if he's able to, Eames concedes that he probably deserves to know. Eames also considers that if he sticks around he just might actually hear the real story from his lips. Even more surprising is the fact that Eames wouldn't really mind him staying around, this barely-twenty-year-old who hides his smiles (but isn't quite good enough at it yet). "D'you think you'll join us again? Next time?" Eames find himself asking.
The man (boy) across from him looks up from his eggs and tilts his head off to the side, as if he hadn't considered it until just now. Then a grin breaks over his face and he ducks a few seconds too late. "Dom has already told me that I'm not allowed to work with anyone else."
Eames smirks and they finish the rest of their meal in silence. Eames pays and it's still snowing when they step out of the diner to go their separate ways. "Arthur," Eames says to the other man, taking his hand. "It was a pleasure."
"Sharpe," he replies. At Eames' questioning look, he adds, "Arthur Sharpe. The pleasure was mine, Mr. Sean Eames."
Eames grins and turns, more than certain that he would be seeing Arthur Sharpe again very soon.
AN: Let me know what you think! AND PLEASE GIMME SUGGESTIONS FOR MOAR! ^^