A.N- On a roll! Just another story idea from my list- a 'Arthur just has to make Eames pay for his crimes against fashion by tearing off every single stitch!' kind of plot. As I was writing it I thought that it would be more believable as a fantasy or a wish to yank, rip, or tear off whatever Eames had chosen to wear. I had some fun writing it and would be glad to hear any thoughts or comments. Reviews are love!

Disclaimer: I have never owned Inception. Ever. Really. We can all dream and write fan fiction about it and for now that will ease our pain.

Take It Off

Arthur was a man of mystery to many. He was quiet unless he had something to say, indifferent at best, but still could be agreed upon by all as a highly professional person.

It would come as a great surprise if it were ever to come out that Arthur- professional and precise, the maker of the plans and the master of all things detailed and complex- indulged in a much loved fantasy between the hours of 10 a.m. and 10: 30 a.m.

In this fantasy, Arthur would strip Eames of whatever ungodly thing that passed for an article of clothing. In Arthur's favorite fantasy, he didn't even try to hide behind the claim of making sure that Eames paid for his crimes against fashion though that was how he had originally begun to think of it before it became his number one day dream.

It would start at 10 a.m. sharp as Eames waltzed his way into the warehouse late, smiling widely at Arthur first as he always did. It gave the Point Man a pleasurable feeling to notice that it was a constant- he was always the first one acknowledged by the Forger. Be it a smirk, wave, wink, grin, or the very rare blown kiss as he passed Arthur by, each little introductory greeting from the Forger never failed to make Arthur's attention drift to his favorite of fantasies.

He had thought of it enough that he knew it by rote.

They would be alone in the warehouse, Eames having just come in and Arthur would be sitting at his desk behind his laptop, face hidden from view by the screen.

Eames would try and greet him, but Arthur would ignore him typing away quickly in the hopes that the Forger would take the hint and make himself busy by not bothering him.

Fail. Utter failure! Eames would approach anyway and push the screen of the laptop away, folding the screen down till it was closed just so that Arthur's face was revealed and he would have no choice but to look at the smiling man that was so intent on bothering him.

Eames leaned over the desk, forcing himself into Arthur's space.

"Good morning, darling!" The Forger would say with that damned accent and that smug look that said he knew every single non-platonic thought in Arthur's head.

And then, then- the smirk!

The Forger smirks as he says "Do you like what I'm wearing?"

Of course, the Arthur of the fantasy is much cooler than Arthur in real life could hope to be in such a situation. He could completely get away with pushing himself away from his desk after not saving anything he had been working on, just to walk to Eames' side and order him to take it off.

"What?" Eames would say in confusion, still smirking so slightly as the expression hadn't quite morphed into one of surprise yet. Arthur would just love to wipe that smirk off of the man's face.

"I have come to the conclusion that your clothes would look much better on the floor, Mr. Eames." Arthur raised his eyebrow. "Take it off."

Of course, Eames wouldn't comply with it immediately. In real life Eames would laugh or mock or just say something that was apt to drive Arthur up a wall- but in this fantasy Arthur would get his way in the end.

With or without Eames help or even complete compliance, Arthur would go for the coat first- tweed, god help him. And, then the shirt- something terrible in a shade of sea foam green, paired with a tie that was violently violet.

Both would be torn away and thrown on the floor- at this point of the fantasy, Arthur would have forced Eames against a desk to unbuckle the man's belt and yank it free from the belt loops of his brown slacks with a zinging noise, allowing it to coil on the ground at their feet.

The thought always made Arthur look down at the man's footwear- scuffed, worn, or unpolished they were at least leather shoes that weren't orange or highlighter yellow. But, still they would have to come off in order for the pants to be disposed of.

Thankfully at this point of the fantasy Eames wasn't fighting him anymore. He kicked off his own shoes and moved to unbutton and unzip his pants. He would be surprised as Arthur pushed his hands away to take the pleasure himself.

Finally it left the Forger standing in little- orange socks decorated with little pumpkins for Halloween and surprisingly plain black boxers.

The man looked flushed and eager and everything that Arthur dreamed of in between the hours of 10 a.m. and 10:30 a.m. as well as later in the evening just because.

It was here that Eames would say something romantic- maybe an 'I love you' or something cute like 'If we're going to start something it would be best to be finished and presentable before the others arrive, darling!'

Instead, today, Arthur heard a chuckle and a murmured, "Darling, I had no idea that you felt that way. Better yet, I had no idea that that's what you're typing about so intently each time I come in!"

Fantasy was broken and reality zoomed back into focus as Arthur registered the warm presence of Eames looming over his shoulder, looking with great interest at what the Point Man had been typing.

In neat lines, typed to perfection without a single spelling error below the report Arthur should have been working on, was the fantasy Arthur had been playing out in his head- he could swear that he didn't do it all the timeā€¦it was just sometimes he couldn't help but have his fingers race along the keyboard, keeping up with his train of thought and treating the day dream's dialogue as dictation.

And each time it happened he always made certain that it was deleted from whatever he had happened to have open in front of him.

No one would have had to know that the reports and facts that Arthur was so meticulous in compiling had once shared space with mildly erotic fiction featuring Eames and himself.

Well, now no one except for Eames.

Taking a deep breath, Arthur highlighted the portions of the document that weren't related to work, deleted them, and then turned in his chair to face Eames.

"How much do you know?"

Eames smiled brightly and recited. "I have come to the conclusion that your clothes would look much better on the floor, Mr. Eames."

Arthur had to try very hard to not allow the blush to overtake him. He would not start blushing in front of the Forger just because his voice sounded amazing while repeating certain lines of his fantasy!

And despite his intentions, his cheeks turned a very faint embarrassed pink. It inspired Arthur to glare at Eames who only seemed to want to smirk at him, eyes bright, perhaps with the possibility of spreading the Point Man's dirty little secret.

Instead, Eames leaned in and whispered to him.

"Are you only interested in a relationship that exists between 10:00 a.m. and 10:30 a.m.?"

As Arthur's eyes widened at the question and what it could mean to him, Eames chuckled lightly and added, "And do you ever get farther than stealing my clothing, darling?"

"I'd like to," Arthur said, not intending to actually let the words slip past his lips. But, with Eames already aware of his blatant fantasizing about him what would it hurt to try and expand upon their relationship as well? "Let me rephrase that- I'd like to do more than just have day dreams about you, and evening fantasies about you. I'd also love to not have this conversation at work, with our coworkers staring at us."

"Dinner, say 8 p.m. or so? And I promise to you love, that once we are truly alone, you could rip off whatever offensive clothing I foolishly chose to wear."

Arthur turned away from Eames and his offer to focus on his computer screen.

"Deal." He said in an undertone that made the Forger laugh aloud and move away from his desk with a decided spring in his step, making up a conversation to show as proof to Ariadne and Dom who were most definitely watching them that nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

"Right, darling. I'll leave you alone so you can work- but I won't stop calling you darling, and I will never give up my clothing!" Eames smiled in a particularly devilish fashion and said, "Even if you try and strip me to just my socks and underwear!"

When Arthur blanched in embarrassment that Eames would even dare mention another part of the fantasy he had glimpsed on the Point Man's computer screen, he found an ally in Dom who called from his chair where he was looking through another set of facts and figures dug up by the Point Man. Those thankfully didn't have a single bit of the scenario he had thought up yesterday that involved him, Eames, and a really awful set of Pepto-Bismol pink socks and a matching shirt.

"Eames could you just leave Arthur be for once?" Dom shook his head in annoyance and disbelief. "It would have to be a cold day in hell for Arthur to try and take off your clothes, as mismatched and sometimes outright ugly as they may be!"

Pretending to be very embarrassed by this uncharacteristic outburst and observation from Dom, Arthur ducked his head down and in front of his computer screen to hide the smile that was growing across his face.

He already couldn't wait for dinner and what was to come afterwards.

The End

A.N- Ah, if Dom only knew what had just gone on... I can't help it.

Hope you all liked it,

- slash mania