A/N: So I've been writing some drabbles and filling a few prompts on rare occasion on tumblr and I decided that I should probably have a place to collect them all and keep them to make them available for people to read. You may want to follow me on tumblr since I usually post these drabbles on tumblr first as a treat for people who follow me, but if you don't want to follow me or don't have a tumblr, no worries! I'll eventually update this as well. At the moment all the drabbles are Thor/Loki or Arthur/Eames, but the collection may expand with time.
My tumblr: onewhositswiththeturtles(dot-tumblr-dot-com)
Prompt: tomhiddlestontheliferuiner answered: Well, definitely more angsty Thorki and Eames/Arthur! And with lots of sexual tension! (;
Wish Not, Want Not (Inception - Arthur/Eames)
Eames traced lines of the body he knew so well, and yet didn't know at all. He slipped his fingers through stiff black hair, the gel making curly locks straight and unwelcoming. He ran his fingers over soft skin, following the curve of frowning eyebrows, the sharp angle of a nose, and the rise of cheekbones. He felt no stubble against his skin as he followed the strong jaw, and the lips indented by his thumb were dry but soft.
How he dreamed of this face, Arthur's face. He stared so often, dreamed of it even more often, that he knew every tiny detail. Each freckle, the intricate mix of shades in eyes that would look simply brown only to those who were not looking closely enough. He knew it all, loved it all. It all looked so perfect to Eames, even the imperfections. The frown lines that marred Arthur's face far too frequently, the stiffness of muscles and posture. It was all a part of the man Eames loved, and he cherished it all.
Soft laughter caught his attention, startling Eames until his rickety chair rattled. Eames steadied himself and glanced up to see Ariadne rushing up to him, grinning. "Wow, Eames! You're so talented! If I hadn't been practicing mazes with Arthur then I could have sworn you were him," she praised, entirely unaware of the new tension in the room.
Eames' eyes slid to Arthur's, who stepped up to stand beside Ariadne at a calmer pace. Both of them stood beside the little vanity Eames had set up in a corner of the room. Arthur's gaze was cool, calculating, and not at all amused. Eames allowed his forgery to melt away, and he could see his own reflection in the mirror once again. "You're supposed to be practicing to forge the mark," Arthur accused calmly, though the skin around his mouth was tight. "Not your co-workers."
"The mark is simple," Eames defended. "I'm already prepared for the job. You were the one who dragged us all down into the dream for another training session. I just thought I'd do a bit of extra practice until the timer ran out."
"If you finished early you could have left," Arthur reminded Eames with a raised eyebrow. It was clear that Arthur was uncomfortable with Eames forging him, which made sense. Eames wondered how Arthur would respond if Eames forged Arthur again, mimicked him.
"Perhaps I didn't feel inclined to shooting myself in the head, darling," Eames snapped, already aware of where this was headed. He gave a sigh when he noticed a gun materializing in Arthur's hand. It was always the same.
"Allow me," Arthur said. Eames didn't know how Arthur could always sound so cold when he did this. Eames wanted to close his eyes but he refused to make it that easy on Arthur. Instead he held those brown eyes, now hard and unfriendly and in such contrast to the soft eyes Eames had had reflected back to him from the mirror.
There was a deafening crack and burning, numbing pain, and then Eames jolted awake. The warehouse was quiet, the lawn chairs as uncomfortable as ever. Eames groaned and pressed his hand against his forehead, feeling it throb. Bastard, he thought as he forced himself to stand. When he looked back, Arthur and Ariadne remained asleep in their respective chairs.
Eames swallowed a lump in his throat and began packing his bag. Even though they both knew that Eames would not die from the gunshot, it tore at Eames' heart to know that Arthur was so willing to shoot him in the head. There was no hesitance, no remorse at causing Eames pain and casting him out of the dream world. Eames didn't even know why he kept coming back, accepting Arthur's job offers. Except Eames did know, even though he didn't want to admit it. He was in love with the stupid bastard and couldn't bear the thought of Arthur being in danger because Eames had left him unprotected.
Eames sighed and grabbed the spare PASIV device to carry out with his bag. Arthur wasn't likely to comment, but even if he did Eames didn't care. Eames needed some comfort tonight and he knew he would not receive it from Arthur; the gunshot was enough of an indication of that. All Eames had left was a shade, a perfect replication of the man he would always love but could never have.