(no subject)

[neededforger]

Eames could have gone back to Mombasa, he knew he could have, and he could have gone right back to what he'd been doing when Cobb came to find him. But he'd decided not to, after all, it had been a while since he'd been stateside, and he didn't have anyone breathing down his neck (yet) and it had also been a while since he'd gone to visit his mum, so he figured he'd stick around for a while, do some sightseeing.

The first thing to do, after debarking, and being careful not to pay attention to any of his compatriots, at least not actively, and never with more than the faint, gentle recognition of people who'd just spent more time in a plane together than most people spent together at work in a day. He paged through his phone, checking his funds, not at all surprised to find that Saito was a man of his word, and they'd already been paid.

The next thing he did, while waiting for his checked baggage to come around on the carousel, was to check mid-range hotels in the area, looking for one that had a week's vacancy at such short notice, since that was the minimum he was going to need to wait for the world to settle again and start looking for another job. Booking didn't take long either, which he was pleasantly surprised by.

That evening he found himself in the restaurant down the block from the hotel, enjoying a celebratory steak dinner, and collecting details. The way that woman folded her hands, the way that man held his knife and fork, the way the bartender smiled at one of the waitresses. Each of these, and others, were stored away for later perusal, practice, and eventual use. He didn't always have to forge someone in particular, sometimes he just had to be a person other than who he was, background, security and observation and those little details could make or break a character.

Comments

[littlspecificty]

It had been quite a while since Arthur had been back in the states, too. He had spent most of his time in Europe, Japan, Russia, and even Australia over the years. So, being back "home" was a bit of a change but at the same time, it felt like he had never really left. Somehow, it felt like nothing had really changed in his absence. It almost felt calming in a way; not having to worry about certain customs or getting his currency exchanged, etc. He decided that he might stay a while. Especially since Cobb's name had been cleared (Arthur felt like he could come back with less guilt attached - and wouldn't have to go check on Cobb's kids himself).

However, while he felt happy for his friend, he knew in the back of his mind that he would have to deal with the inevitable fact that he was now out of a partner. A partner who had been a friend, too.

He would have to look for another job soon enough, as well. And it would be on his own. It wasn't the first time and Arthur found he often preferred to be alone but... Perhaps he had just gotten too used to being with Cobb. He'd simply just have to get used to working on his own again.

The whole job had been fraught with dangers from the outset. The whole thing had hinged on Cobb finding the right people to help them. Arthur hadn't wanted to do such a dangerous job, but Dom being his partner (and Arthur having promised Mal years ago that he would take care of him), he felt like he had no choice. He had to be there because no one else would do. He was the best at what he did - at least he often felt he was. That still didn't mean that it had been a smart choice to take the job. (Even if it had paid well, as Arthur saw when he looked up his bank account.)

And, as if to add insult to injury [of Arthur's pride], Cobb had gotten Eames involved in this whole thing. Granted, if they were going to have any Forger at all, Eames was the best. But Arthur hadn't really wanted to see the other man again, even if it had been three years since they last saw or spoke to each other. Arthur had actually been surprised by Eames' congenial air towards him at first - though he didn't let it show. He had just gone along as if their history with each other had been nothing but strictly professional, keeping his distance. Eames, of course, was the ass he usually was. But he still came through for all of them.

Arthur had fucked up on his information on the Fischer job, had nearly gotten them all killed, caught, and/or thrown into Limbo. He still didn't know how he managed what he did to help complete the job but he did. After that mistake he was hell-bent and determined to make sure they got out alive (even in taking on all the dream's projections himself). In some ways, he was still kicking himself over that stupid mistake.

But in the here and now, he was booked at a relatively decent hotel, in the United States, having successfully completed the impossible task of Inception. He was also alone in his own booth at a restaurant a block away from said hotel. You can bet money he was having at least one drink after the day he had had. He thought, in spite of everything that had happened and was to happen as a result, he deserved it. Leaning back into the cushioned seat that curved around him, he allowed his eyes to close, trying to decompress from the day's events.

[neededforger.livejournal.com]

For reasons Eames himself couldn't explain, he was still fond of the point man, and at the outset he'd been intent on keeping things professional, and he'd managed, for a while, it was too easy for him to slip back into old mannerisms and endearments, though at the nonexistent response from Arthur, he'd let them go again as best he could.

Then, as chance would have it, he realized that the man in the corner booth was, in fact, Arthur, and as far as he was concerned that was a sign. Sure, it might be one of the portents of the apocalypse, but it was still a sign. He debated, for a moment, going over to talk to him, but decided against it, at least for the time being. At least until the waitress came by again and he could tell her that Arthur's next drink was on him. That would give him a chance to gauge the other man's reaction to finding him there, anyway.

[littlspecificty]

Arthur was working his way through his recent drink when a waitress came up to him - not his - and set another glass down on the table in front of him. She informed him that a gentleman had paid for it. Arthur's eyebrows went up a little and he asked which "gentlemen". Following the slight gesture of her finger, he saw someone he had not been wanting to see again for a good long while. Eames.

They were in the same fucking restaurant. Cosmic irony must have hated him. He turned his face away from Eames, swearing under his breath and rubbing his eyes with his thumb and index finger, too tired to remain more "composed".

After letting out a tired breath, "Take it back. Please. I don't want it. I don't want anything from that man, please and thank you." He then took another swig of his first drink as she did as he asked. And just as he was feeling relaxed his stomach flops on him and starts to feel like it's going into knots.

Why the hell did this man have this affect on Arthur? It was ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.

[neededforger.livejournal.com]

If it had been anyone else, Eames might have been offended, really, as it was, he was actually a little amused since it was rather what he'd expected. This just proved that Arthur was still as prickly as ever, and he was going to have to try a little harder.

Of course, there was always the question of why he'd want to, given as how things had ended before. But if he was being honest wit himself, that was exactly why he was going to try again, because how things had ended before was ... premature. It wasn't how they were supposed to have ended.

He smiled when Arthur noticed him, giving a nod and a mock-salute of greeting, two fingers brushing against his temple for a moment, but that was all, he stayed put for the time being, there would be plenty of time, he reasoned, to go talk to Arthur later. No sense making him bolt so soon.

[littlspecificty]

Eames probably knew his drink would be refused - at least he should have. Through all his flirting and old endearments, Arthur had shown no interest what so ever in response. That should be enough. But, if Arthur knew Eames (and he was pretty sure he did), the man was far too stubborn. Pigheaded, too, if Arthur was in the mood to be mean. As he took another swallow of his drink, he wasn't honestly willing to rule that out.

They had been together. Once. A long time ago, it seemed. Things had been pretty decent for a while, even pleasant, even hopeful that it would last. But, somewhere along the way, things had stalled and Arthur, sensing the end around the corner, decided to leave before Eames could. Arthur had had relationships before and they had ended badly more than not. Arthur had been left and he didn't want to be left again. So, he had left Eames. And Eames hadn't pursued him, like Arthur had asked in the note he left behind.

That didn't mean Arthur hadn't kept tabs on the other man (to make sure he didn't get into too much trouble). Despite popular belief, he did care. In his own way. Even though he wouldn't admit that to Eames; the man had a tendency of becoming far too smug far too easily.

When it came to how he felt on their ended relationship, he didn't like to dwell on it. It was over. That was it. They gave it a shot, it hadn't worked out. They went their separate ways. He honestly didn't like to be reminded of it - just like his past relationships before Eames.

Arthur would have preferred to keep it like that. So Eames being Eames and smiling at Arthur and acting like he did back before he and Arthur had gotten together the first time... it made Arthur frown into his glass. It also made him consider just leaving, going back to the hotel and ordering room service instead. But then that would mean Arthur would be running away. And Arthur didn't want to run from Eames - he refused to give him that kind of smug satisfaction in predicting his behavior. That's how it had happened the night they ended up taking their relationship further. Arthur had walked out of the pub he and Eames had been at and Eames had followed. They had bickered, yelled, talked, and walked for six blocks in London before finally agreeing to take things slowly.

Arthur growled under his breath, taking another drink. Damn Eames. Fucking bastard.

[neededforger.livejournal.com]

Eames still had that note, actually, tucked away in a safety deposit box somewhere along with the postcards he'd sent Arthur when they were no separate jobs. Truth be told, Eames was something of a sentimentalist, and all those myriad scraps of paper from a life once lived were good at grounding him, sometimes better than his totem, really. Though partly that was because Eames had never been a strong believer in totems, though that was likely due to the fact that he knew what he looked like, and if he didn't look like he should, clearly he was dreaming. It was as simple as that as far as he was concerned.

Eames had gone back to scanning the room, filing mannerisms and movements away again, though he was still keeping an eye on Arthur, he knew more than a few of the other man's tells, and he could see the momentary of whether or not to leave as plainly as if Arthur'd been carrying a sign that said he was having a debate with himself. He'd go over and say hello soon enough, but for now he could wait, at least until the other man had settled again, at least as much as Arthur ever settled.

[littlspecificty]

Arthur, if he were ever completely honest with himself, had kept all the postcards, notes, and small gifts Eames had given him. Arthur had shut them all away in a safety deposit box ("out of sight, out of mind" right?) but the fact that he still kept them at all... it disturbed Arthur deeply. He wasn't by nature a sentimental person. He should have been able to just throw them away. But he hadn't. But he couldn't stand looking at them, either, being reminded. So he put them away.

Arthur reached one hand in his vest pocket and felt his die; he was awake. Shaking his head again, leaning back in his seat with a heavy sigh, he kind of wished this was a dream. But, it being reality, he'd have to deal with it. Whether he wanted to our not.

He knew Eames could read him, even from across a room full of people. He rolled his eyes. Leave it to Arthur to have been with a man who made it his livelihood to study, read, and forge people. He could feel the other man's eyes and Arthur, feeling very crabby, took one hand and, with his middle finger, scratched the side of his face. 'Read that.' He knew it was immature. He didn't care. He knocked back the rest of his drink and knew immediately he'd need a refill.

[neededforger.livejournal.com]

He very nearly snorted his drink laughing at that gesture, he'd only barely caught it, having been focusing instead on the young couple a few tables over, he wasn't entirely sure what they were discussing, but it was serious, they were quite clearly in love, though the discussion itself was somber.

He let Arthur be for the time being, at least until they'd both eaten, food was something else that was almost a totem, because in dreams there was rarely any flavor and he never really considered himself out of the woods until he'd eaten, but, that done and his check covered, he wove his way easily through the crowd, just leaning against the side of Arthur's booth, "You know, Arthur." His tone was conversational, "We can't just ignore each other for the rest of our lives."

[littlspecificty]

Arthur had ordered some pasta after a while, his stomach demanding he do something but knowing it was all it would be able to handle. Eames being around him off the job made him antsy in ways he normally wasn't. It was irritating. Very irritating.

By the time he had finished, he could see Eames making his way over out of the corner of his eye. Heaving another heavy sigh, he took another long pull of his drink, knowing the inevitable was approaching. He'd prefer to meet it not entirely sober if at all possible.

At Eames' words, not looking at him, but not missing a beat, "Doesn't mean we can't try."

[littlspecificty]

Arthur still planned on going out but wanted a minute to collect himself, not believing this. Any of this. He checked his die again and he nearly threw it across the room in frustration. It was like the more he tried to resist Eames, the more everything around him kept pushing them together. It made him want to just get the fuck out of Dodge. It was just pure instinct for him to resist something outside of him trying to get him to do something he didn't want to do. He didn't want to be with Eames... Right? They had already been down that road and saw how it ended. Why the fuck would they need to do that again?

He needed to get out, go for a walk, get away for a few hours. He grabbed his dark brown leather jacket and headed out. When he closed his door, he paused, hand still on the handle, seeing the piece of paper. He looked around before grabbing it and was frozen to the spot, staring at the sketch that Eames had obviously made while he had been at the cafe.

"Goddammit." He mumbled as he could feel this small ache in his chest grow larger the longer he looked at the sketch and remembered. A part of him wanted to crumble it up and throw it away but... the other part, that didn't want to do that, won out. He cursed under his breath again - at himself and at Eames - and folded it back up, putting it in his jeans pocket and walked down the hall (shooting a glare at Eames' door as he passed) and towards the elevators.

He definitely needed to get out for a few hours.

[neededforger.livejournal.com]

Eames could almost feel the heat of that glare through the door, even if he didn't know Arthur was out there, he still knew, that momentary flutter that most people equated to someone walking across your grave. He huffed a laugh at himself, shaking his head and scratching the back of his neck.

He planned on staying in that day, at least until he was ready to venture out for dinner again, room service for lunch while he got things settled would do him just fine, and maybe he'd watch some TV or a movie and just relax while he had the chance.

Of course, that whole 'relaxation' plan lasted for all of about three hours, long enough to send his mother an email to see what her schedule was like the next few weeks so he could stop by for a visit, and long enough to square a few other things away, check the news, no word on Fischer yet, but that was to be expected, it hadn't even been 24 hours. After that he realized that he was bored, just like usually happened when he tried to relax. He shook his head as he gathered the few items he'd need if he was going out for lunch, making sure to lock the door behind him, just going to take a walk and see what was around.

[littlspecificty]

Arthur went out towards the shore - took him a while but he got there. He liked walking along the pier, liked being alone with a few strangers here and there. It reminded him of better times as a small child and got him away from Eames and the hotel and everything that had gone on in the past 48 hours. It allowed him to clear his mind, to focus on nothing in particular.

The hours seemed to pass like that, him eventually sitting under the gazebo at the end of the pier as it started to rain (so much for the sun lasting), until his phone rang. It was Dom. Arthur immediately answered and actually ended up smiling a little at the sound of his partner's - ex-partner's - voice. Arthur noticed instantly the difference in his voice; he was happy. It was so different and it had been years since Arthur had heard it.

It wasn't long before Arthur informed Cobb of his situation and how Eames seemed to always be around no matter where he went. Dom was, of course, no help. Instead, he had the nerve to tell Arthur that he should just talk to Eames about it instead of running from him and/or avoiding the obvious issue between them. Arthur was glad he was alone at the gazebo because he ended up raising his voice just a bit at that. About how Cobb had a lot of nerve to be saying that to him.

And Dom, as he had always done, simply stated that he could say that because he had experienced what happened if one didn't confront obvious issues. For once, Arthur didn't really have a comeback for that (although he did frown, hating Dom slightly for being right in that sense).

He still felt oppositional to the whole idea [even after finally hanging up with Dom] and just remained where he was, watching the rain and ocean. It was the only thing to soothe him while his mind went though all his possible options.

Arthur had been avoiding and running for three years and now virtually everything around him was practically forcing him to confront what he had fled from. Damn fucking universe.

[neededforger.livejournal.com]

Eames, for his part, had walked in an ever-increasing circle around the hotel, just mapping out where things were, just in case he needed them for any reason. A dry cleaner's, a coin-op laundromat, an Armenian bakery that he intended to try for breakfast the following morning, and he even found an actual deli before the rain started.

So much for Sunny California.

He took his time with what was left of his sandwich then, just keeping an eye on the fluctuating crowd in the deli and on the street outside, judging moods and attitudes and collecting bits and pieces, the same as he always did. Though under all of that he was still turning over thoughts of Arthur and why he was even still trying to pursue the other man when he clearly wasn't interested. Though there was some small voice in the back of his mind pointing out that he had been interested, once upon a time, and that kind of thing wasn't like throwing a switch, it didn't just go away one day.

It was a few hours later, verging on evening, when he finally returned to the hotel, the rain had lessened for the time being, though there was a window-rattling peal of thunder as he crossed the lobby, startling enough that it made him tense, expecting gunfire.

[littlspecificty]

By the time Arthur finally made it back to the hotel it looked like it was going to storm - at least it the thunder the that ripped through the hotel as he entered the lobby had anything to say about it. He kept walking, rolling his shoulders and wanting to get away from the windows.

He was fucking soaked and wanted to get back to his room and undress quickly and get into some warm, not-wet clothes. And get some food. He slowed in his steps a little as he recognized one of the figures in front of him; even from behind he could recognize Eames.

Arthur paused in his steps, running a nervous hand through his sopping wet hair, trying to move some of it out of his face. But he decided, ultimately, to press on and walked past Eames to the elevators. His shoes squeaking on the smooth floor and making him slip slightly as he stopped in front of one, but he recovered relatively gracefully, and he pressed the button to go up while his ears felt a little hot again.

[neededforger.livejournal.com]

Eames smiled faintly when he spotted Arthur, he knew that the tension across the other man's shoulders and down his back was probably his fault, which was why he didn't say anything, and even kept his distance, at least until the elevator emptied and he slipped inside. He gave Arthur as much space as he could allow in the enclosed space.

At least, that had been his plan, it was a good fan so far as plans went, and it worked for all of four floors, which was when the car lurched distressingly for a moment and the lights flickered, "Well that doesn't sound good." Eames murmured, mostly to himself, but to Arthur too, since he was there.

[littlspecificty]

Ending up in the same elevator with Eames for a second time in the same day was more than annoying, it was downright disturbing in a lot of ways. Again, fucking universe.

And when the elevator basically stopped and they weren't near their floor and the doors were closed, lights flickering, it gave Arthur the most distressing sense of deja vu (except this time he wasn't in zero gravity).

"That's because it isn't good." He remained where he was, tense, not really knowing what to expect. He was hoping the car would resume functioning but didn't rule out plummeting down the four floors they had just passed...

[neededforger.livejournal.com]

Eames waited, listening, when the lights flickered again and then died, aside from the faint yellow ones around the top of the car he sighed, "Power's out." He shrugged then, sliding himself down the wall to sit, "Means it'll be a while before they notice us, unless the security camera and the monitors are both on backup power like the emergency lights, but personally I'm not going to put that much faith in whoever rigged the electricals for this place."

This had to be some sort of epic cosmic joke, the stars had aligned to allow them to perform an actual, successful inception (at least, in theory) but that same alignment was going to keep throwing he and Arthur against each other until something broke.

[neededforger.livejournal.com]

"It would, as a matter of fact." He said, blinking up when there was a knock at the door, "Ah, that'll be desert, sit tight." He unfolded from his comfortable sprawl, going to answer the door and accepting the covered tray from the girl on the other side, favoring her with a wink and a tip before nudging the door shut with a foot and returning to the couch, "Here we are." He said, setting the tray down and handing Arthur his dish, settling back with his own slice of cheesecake, already making contented little sounds in the back of his throat.

[littlspecificty]

Arthur rolled his eyes at Eames' answer, knowing that he would say. He took the moment Eames was at the door to take a deep breath and uncross his legs (even rolling his shoulders some to try and feel less tense).

By the time Eames had returned with the deserts, Arthur didn't feel any more relaxed, but the deserts would be a good distraction. The noises the other man made had Arthur shooting a mildly annoyed look at him (even if Arthur was just remembering how much Eames had loved cheesecake), until he tasted his own. His eyebrows went up a little and his own satisfied noise came out without him even really knowing it. Damn, it was pretty good. But then... it had been a long time since he had allowed himself to have this.

[neededforger.livejournal.com]

Eames managed to hide his smile behind his own dessert for the moment, amused at the near-purr from Arthur, it was a sound he remembered, if only because it was a sound he knew he'd never be able to properly duplicate on the off-chance that he ever had a reason to forge Arthur, though, if he did he didn't suspect that sound would be necessary.

"Well." He commented between bites, taking his time with the cake, "I certainly know what I'm having tomorrow."

[littlspecificty]

Arthur could feel his cheeks grow a little warmer (embarrassed at making that sound), but tried to ignore it, "I didn't expect it to be so good over here, to be honest."

[neededforger.livejournal.com]

There was a soft laugh, "You and me both." It was then that he actually looked at the other man again, and fell still for a moment just due to that barely-there coloring. Snippets and tidbits of memory bobbing to the forefront of his mind, flitting across the surface like startled minnows. That was something he'd thought he'd never get to see again. He managed to shake himself out of it again a moment later, adding: "Suppose they've got to have something they're good at."

[littlspecificty]

Arthur could see Eames looking at him out of the corner of his eye, even while he still eats his desert, and tries to stop but his cheeks only seem to grow hotter. He didn't know why but it probably just went along with him feeling very awkward around Eames in general ever sense agreeing to restarting their relationship.

He couldn't really manage a reply, just nodding his agreement.

[neededforger.livejournal.com]

Eames found that the silence was comfortable enough, for the time being, mostly due to the fact that the dessert was far better than he'd been expecting and he finally set his plate aside with a contented sigh.

What he said, however, was: "How long do you think before you'll start looking for a new job?" Eames usually gave it two or three weeks before he started actively looking, if nothing came in on its own before then.

[littlspecificty]

Arthur managed to finish his around the same time, unconsciously licking his lips (still surprised it had been as good as it was), and setting the small bowl back on the tray it had come on.

Sitting back, he shook his head, running a hand through his unkempt hair, "Not sure. I think I'm still trying to accept I'm out of a partner now." Cobb had said this was his last job and he had meant it. That left Arthur alone.