Fanfiction: Hardly Knew Ye - Preview
Feb. 16th, 2011 02:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
safaiagemwritingTitle: Hardly Knew Ye preview
Author:safaiagem / safaiagemwriting
Fandom: Inception
Couples: Arthur/Eames
Rating: Hard R so far
Words: 17,255 and climbing
Notes: This story is running the hell away from me. It is yet another origins story because I seem to like those so much. Based on this prompt at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
inception_kink. Un-bated.
Summary: When Arthur and Eames first met they thought they had met the person that they could comfortably call a 'friend' for the rest of their lives. The mind crime business, like most things, complicates things.
Copyrights: I own nothing from Inception and I am making no money from this.
Hardly Knew Yet
Part One
They do not meet in the military like most people thought. They worked in the same program and they might have crossed paths once or twice but neither of them ever knew the other until much later. Eames even claimed that he remembered seeing Arthur at one point or another but Arthur was fairly sure that the forger was just messing with him. Their first meeting was something of pure chance really and happened one night when they were both fairly fresh off of the dreamsharing project. Arthur was in a dead end bar in the middle of New York on a freezing cold night in January. The project had ended three months ago and as much as Arthur tried to put logic behind it that did not stop this itch underneath his skin. The dreaming was like a drug, it got into him and it would not let go, and now he was going through withdrawals. The worst part is there was no one that he could talk to about this. It was not like there were self help group for people who were addicting to doing impossible things in dreams.
The people in the bar with him were other addicts and Arthur spent the majority of the evening trying to read each of them trying to figure what their addictions were. He wondered how many of them were in denial, how many of them just fell off the bandwagon and how many of them were just tired of trying. Arthur tried to figure out which one he fell into and if there was anything he could do to change it. Instead he nursed a beer and watched a ten year old EPL match. He wondered idly who would ask for that since no one in the states seemed to care about soccer.
“Cheers mate,” a voice said and Arthur looked up to see a lean man drinking Guiness from the tap and watching the television with interest. His hair was short, sandy blond and he had seemed to be watching the game like it was the only thing in the room. He was on the other side of the half circle bar and he looked relaxed. There was something about the look in his eyes that made Arthur watch him with interest. It was not until the man turned and their eyes met that Arthur even realized he was staring. He did not get bashful or look away, he locked eyes with the stranger until the man got up and walked over so they were sitting elbow to elbow. “Any reason you're staring at me?” the man asked.
“Yes and no,” Arthur replied honestly as he took another drink of his beer. He enjoyed this place in the bar because his back was to a wall and he a clear view of the exit. It was not until he was more than halfway through his beer that he realized that his partner here was watching the exit with the same intensity that he was. “You were in the military,” Arthur said as he considered this stranger who turned and looked at him.
“You were too. No other reason someone would chose this spot on the bar unless they wanted their back to a wall and eyes on the exit,” the man said and he held out a hand. “I'm Eames.”
“Arthur,” he said taking Eames' hand. From there they fell into easy conversation as they bought beers for one another. Arthur found out that Eames was in the services the same time he was and had been let go around the same time. When this information fell into the open they both stared at one another. “Odds of that happening are pretty slim.”
“Universe is not so big, Arthur, and sometimes things just turn out that way,” Eames replied and he flagged a bartender down. The more they drank the warmer the room seemed to get and before long both of them had their sleeves rolled up. Arthur was in the middle of a story from boot camp when Eames snatched his wrist and turned it over. The other ran his fingers over the track marks on his wrist from the PASIV device. “I know what these are.”
“I got into some nasty stuff when I was younger; they're just scars,” Arthur lied effortlessly but Eames was staring at him with intense eyes. Eames moved his arm and moved so wrists were side by side. Arthur's eyes nearby bugged out when he saw the same marks, the same marks that indicated exactly what Eames did while he was in the service. If he was wrong then he could breech an agreement that would get him killed but if he was right there would finally be a person that understood what he was going through. He turned a million statements in his head trying to find one that would get the point across if Eames really was in the program. “Tell me, Mr. Eames, do you still dream?” Arthur asked and the way the other man's eyes lit up was all the proof he needed.
“As a matter of fact; I don't,” Eames replied. “Let's go somewhere else.” The 'because this isn't a safe place to discuss this' was implied but Arthur nodded. Eames released his hand and they both paid for their tabs. Arthur wrapped himself in his coat tightly as he walked with Eames down the cold New York streets. Eames had a loft within walking distance and as Arthur followed him upstairs he almost wondered if this was some sort of trap and he was going to get himself killed. He sized up Eames and decided he could take the Brit if need be. The heat from the apartment seemed to melt the ice from his bones and Arthur could feel the chill start to leave. Eames hung up both of their coats and vanished into the kitchen only to return with two glasses of brandy. “Here because I know you're worried even if you won't say so,” Eames said and he took a sip of both; Arthur grinned.
“Every instinct I have said coming up here was a bad idea,” he said taking the glass from Eames.
“Yeah, well, all of mine say that bringing you here was a bad idea,” he said sounding a little sheepish. They both lounged on the couch and sipped on the brandy as they waited to warm up from the cold outside. “Did you ever come to Europe?”
“Yeah, did you come to the states?” Arthur asked.
“Sure did. We must have just missed each other somehow,” Eames said tilting his head to the side.
“Must have; I have a feeling I would remember you,” Arthur said without hesitation. He did not see the point in beating around the bush or being subtle and judging by the way Eames' eyebrows shot up he was not expecting that.
“Cheers to that,” he said and they clinked glasses. The hours dragged on as they talked about the dreams, about first reactions, the first time they got hurt or killed, the first time they got ill, the first time they managed to build a dream and how it all fell apart in the end.
“I guess it was all too expensive in the end,” Arthur said and just barely noticed that the bottle of brandy was almost empty. “Training soldiers to kill easily isn't something that they really want to broadcast anyway.”
“It always comes down to funds though,” Eames said as he finished the last of his glass. “I wonder what else you could do down there though. I mean, we only just learned that we could control the structure of the dream, I imagine there were all sorts of thing that we never touched on.” Arthur hummed in agreement and finished the last of his glass.
“I should probably head out,” he said and Eames rolled his eyes.
“Yeah, you're not walking through New York at 2A.M after all of that booze. I don't care if you were special forces I'm calling a bloody cab,” Eames said and he picked up the phone to do so. Arthur laughed and rested his head against the back of the couch. He felt lighter than he had in three months and he knew it was not because of the liquor. Eames hung up the phone and they both walked down to the entry of the building to watch for the cab. “You going to hang around the city for a while?”
“Thinking about it,” Arthur replied as he leaned against the door; the window fogged just a little whenever he took a breath.
“Well, give me a ring if you want to go get drinks again sometime. You can't exactly talk to anyone about what we had to do,” Eames said offering a piece of paper with a number on it. Arthur took it without hesitation and smiled.
“I'd like that,” he replied honestly when the cab pulled up. Arthur nodded to Eames and walked outside to his cab. When they pulled away he risked a glance back at the door and saw that Eames was watching him the same way.
Author:
safaiagem / safaiagemwritingFandom: Inception
Couples: Arthur/Eames
Rating: Hard R so far
Words: 17,255 and climbing
Notes: This story is running the hell away from me. It is yet another origins story because I seem to like those so much. Based on this prompt at
inception_kink. Un-bated. Summary: When Arthur and Eames first met they thought they had met the person that they could comfortably call a 'friend' for the rest of their lives. The mind crime business, like most things, complicates things.
Copyrights: I own nothing from Inception and I am making no money from this.
Part One
They do not meet in the military like most people thought. They worked in the same program and they might have crossed paths once or twice but neither of them ever knew the other until much later. Eames even claimed that he remembered seeing Arthur at one point or another but Arthur was fairly sure that the forger was just messing with him. Their first meeting was something of pure chance really and happened one night when they were both fairly fresh off of the dreamsharing project. Arthur was in a dead end bar in the middle of New York on a freezing cold night in January. The project had ended three months ago and as much as Arthur tried to put logic behind it that did not stop this itch underneath his skin. The dreaming was like a drug, it got into him and it would not let go, and now he was going through withdrawals. The worst part is there was no one that he could talk to about this. It was not like there were self help group for people who were addicting to doing impossible things in dreams.
The people in the bar with him were other addicts and Arthur spent the majority of the evening trying to read each of them trying to figure what their addictions were. He wondered how many of them were in denial, how many of them just fell off the bandwagon and how many of them were just tired of trying. Arthur tried to figure out which one he fell into and if there was anything he could do to change it. Instead he nursed a beer and watched a ten year old EPL match. He wondered idly who would ask for that since no one in the states seemed to care about soccer.
“Cheers mate,” a voice said and Arthur looked up to see a lean man drinking Guiness from the tap and watching the television with interest. His hair was short, sandy blond and he had seemed to be watching the game like it was the only thing in the room. He was on the other side of the half circle bar and he looked relaxed. There was something about the look in his eyes that made Arthur watch him with interest. It was not until the man turned and their eyes met that Arthur even realized he was staring. He did not get bashful or look away, he locked eyes with the stranger until the man got up and walked over so they were sitting elbow to elbow. “Any reason you're staring at me?” the man asked.
“Yes and no,” Arthur replied honestly as he took another drink of his beer. He enjoyed this place in the bar because his back was to a wall and he a clear view of the exit. It was not until he was more than halfway through his beer that he realized that his partner here was watching the exit with the same intensity that he was. “You were in the military,” Arthur said as he considered this stranger who turned and looked at him.
“You were too. No other reason someone would chose this spot on the bar unless they wanted their back to a wall and eyes on the exit,” the man said and he held out a hand. “I'm Eames.”
“Arthur,” he said taking Eames' hand. From there they fell into easy conversation as they bought beers for one another. Arthur found out that Eames was in the services the same time he was and had been let go around the same time. When this information fell into the open they both stared at one another. “Odds of that happening are pretty slim.”
“Universe is not so big, Arthur, and sometimes things just turn out that way,” Eames replied and he flagged a bartender down. The more they drank the warmer the room seemed to get and before long both of them had their sleeves rolled up. Arthur was in the middle of a story from boot camp when Eames snatched his wrist and turned it over. The other ran his fingers over the track marks on his wrist from the PASIV device. “I know what these are.”
“I got into some nasty stuff when I was younger; they're just scars,” Arthur lied effortlessly but Eames was staring at him with intense eyes. Eames moved his arm and moved so wrists were side by side. Arthur's eyes nearby bugged out when he saw the same marks, the same marks that indicated exactly what Eames did while he was in the service. If he was wrong then he could breech an agreement that would get him killed but if he was right there would finally be a person that understood what he was going through. He turned a million statements in his head trying to find one that would get the point across if Eames really was in the program. “Tell me, Mr. Eames, do you still dream?” Arthur asked and the way the other man's eyes lit up was all the proof he needed.
“As a matter of fact; I don't,” Eames replied. “Let's go somewhere else.” The 'because this isn't a safe place to discuss this' was implied but Arthur nodded. Eames released his hand and they both paid for their tabs. Arthur wrapped himself in his coat tightly as he walked with Eames down the cold New York streets. Eames had a loft within walking distance and as Arthur followed him upstairs he almost wondered if this was some sort of trap and he was going to get himself killed. He sized up Eames and decided he could take the Brit if need be. The heat from the apartment seemed to melt the ice from his bones and Arthur could feel the chill start to leave. Eames hung up both of their coats and vanished into the kitchen only to return with two glasses of brandy. “Here because I know you're worried even if you won't say so,” Eames said and he took a sip of both; Arthur grinned.
“Every instinct I have said coming up here was a bad idea,” he said taking the glass from Eames.
“Yeah, well, all of mine say that bringing you here was a bad idea,” he said sounding a little sheepish. They both lounged on the couch and sipped on the brandy as they waited to warm up from the cold outside. “Did you ever come to Europe?”
“Yeah, did you come to the states?” Arthur asked.
“Sure did. We must have just missed each other somehow,” Eames said tilting his head to the side.
“Must have; I have a feeling I would remember you,” Arthur said without hesitation. He did not see the point in beating around the bush or being subtle and judging by the way Eames' eyebrows shot up he was not expecting that.
“Cheers to that,” he said and they clinked glasses. The hours dragged on as they talked about the dreams, about first reactions, the first time they got hurt or killed, the first time they got ill, the first time they managed to build a dream and how it all fell apart in the end.
“I guess it was all too expensive in the end,” Arthur said and just barely noticed that the bottle of brandy was almost empty. “Training soldiers to kill easily isn't something that they really want to broadcast anyway.”
“It always comes down to funds though,” Eames said as he finished the last of his glass. “I wonder what else you could do down there though. I mean, we only just learned that we could control the structure of the dream, I imagine there were all sorts of thing that we never touched on.” Arthur hummed in agreement and finished the last of his glass.
“I should probably head out,” he said and Eames rolled his eyes.
“Yeah, you're not walking through New York at 2A.M after all of that booze. I don't care if you were special forces I'm calling a bloody cab,” Eames said and he picked up the phone to do so. Arthur laughed and rested his head against the back of the couch. He felt lighter than he had in three months and he knew it was not because of the liquor. Eames hung up the phone and they both walked down to the entry of the building to watch for the cab. “You going to hang around the city for a while?”
“Thinking about it,” Arthur replied as he leaned against the door; the window fogged just a little whenever he took a breath.
“Well, give me a ring if you want to go get drinks again sometime. You can't exactly talk to anyone about what we had to do,” Eames said offering a piece of paper with a number on it. Arthur took it without hesitation and smiled.
“I'd like that,” he replied honestly when the cab pulled up. Arthur nodded to Eames and walked outside to his cab. When they pulled away he risked a glance back at the door and saw that Eames was watching him the same way.
