Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/777180.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Inception_(2010)
  Relationship:
      Arthur/Eames_(Inception)
  Character:
      Arthur_(Inception), Eames_(Inception), OMC
  Additional Tags:
      First_Time, First_Meetings, Military, Underage_Character, Violence
  Series:
      Part 1 of Middle_Ground
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-04-28 Words: 5459
****** I've seen you in a fight you lost ******
by xantissa
Summary
     Another take on Eames meeting Arthur for the first time. There’s a
     secret military missions and like hell that skinny thing is anything
     but underage.
You left your blood stain on the floor
You set your sights on him
You left a hand print on the door,
Like all the boys before, like all the boys before (boys boysboys boys)
* * *
Eames tilted back on the chair in the small café, smiling at the waitress and
motioned for more coffee. He did his best to play the part of a lazy French
tourist waiting for his friend that seemed to be a little lost. He knew his
accent sucked, but it was also lucky that Warsaw being the capital of Poland,
it had a fairly big population of different nationalities coming there for
business often enough that most waitresses spoke a passable English but not
good enough to recognize his French accent as totally fake.
Still, his position as the one to meet their American contact was better than
Jonah’s ,he was stuck loitering on a roof of a nearby building, playing cover.
The steady drizzle must have soaked the man to the bone. It was fortunate they
had to keep radio silence because Eames was sure Jonah would talk his ear off,
complaining.
Eames was twenty four and excited. It was his twentieth collaborative mission
but first with the Dreamshare technology involved. He was young, handsome and
smart. Since day one in the military he made it a point of honor to get into as
much specialized training as possible. The SRR snapped him up almost six years
ago and he felt there wasn’t much they could teach him anymore. The new,
experimental Dreamshare technology, developed in collaboration with the
Americans seemed the new shiny thing. The only thing that stopped Eames from
immediately volunteering was the side effects of the drug they used on the
sleepers. Somnacin. Complete addiction after just one dose. Depression. Heavy
loss of weight. Paranoia. Inability to form emotional connections.
Still, he knew enough about the technology and process that he was chosen for
this mission, and given seniority over Jonah, a soldier with ten more years of
experience. Despite his young age he was already Second Lieutenant, jumping
ranks like burning stones. He was too damn good at infiltration, planning,
reconnaissance and manipulation to be left idling in the lower ranks and his
handlers knew it.
They were in Poland to get at a certain Russian businessman that came here once
a year. There already were attempt to grab him in his home country but his
security there was way over the top and it was very important that no one knew
about the grab. That was why they were doing it here, a country in the
comfortable middle between the paranoid Russia and open Western Europe.
His phone trilled once and then stopped.
He got up prom his seat leaving some bills on the table and discreetly thumbed
his comm unit:
“They’re here.”
He stood at the edge of the sidewalk and watched the steel grey Toyota Rav4
with tinted windows come down the street.
It was a joint operation. He and Jonah were expected to kidnap the mark for an
hour, sedate him and bring him to the house they were using as a base of
operation, the American team was supposed to extract the needed data while
Eames and Jonah provided security, then Jonah was supposed to drop the mark off
back to his hotel while Eames assisted the Americans in clean up.
They had five days to prepare everything.
The car stopped beside him and he got into the passenger side. The driver was a
very tall, heavily build man with a distinctly military buzz cut and dark
mustache, on the back seat was another man, a bit younger, blond and beside
him... Eames had to take a double take because there was no way the kid was
more than sixteen. At the very most.
He was skinny as fuck, cheeks so hollowed it made him look almost gaunt. His
hair was definitely not regulation. Dark, slightly longish it curled up
prettily behind his ears and over his forehead. Eames had time to think the kid
had surprisingly severe features before he opened eyes and Eames had to school
his face not to show his reaction. The kid opened incredibly dark eyes and
looked right at Eames. Dark brown, heavy with fatigue or sleep they held the
most stunning expression he ever saw. Calm and deep, the seemed to judge him,
see right through him.
He turned his face away, uncomfortable with his own reaction to that gaze. He
was aware he had a weakness for people with dark retinas. Mostly because he was
so used to using pupil dilation to judging responses and dark colored eyes
always fucked with that ability making people seem more mysterious than they
really were.
Somehow he managed to direct the car downtown to the small townhouse with a
garage a shell company of a shell company had rented for a month for them to
use. When they unloaded from the car, he couldn’t stop himself from looking at
the kid. Both the older agents offered their names Thomas for the older one and
Paul for the blond.
No one told him the kid’s name.
As they unfolded from the car he realized that the kid was just a little bit
shorter than him but so very much skinnier. He wore a thick hoodie and jeans,
the clothes only served to make him look younger and skinnier with the way they
were hanging off him.
They talked little as they unpacked their supplies and waited for Jonah to join
them. Still, Eames was uncomfortably aware of the kid. He watched from the
corner of his eye as he pulled the silver suitcase containing the PASIV onto a
coffee table in the living room, set himself on the nearest easy chair and
pulled a line from the PASIV. In second’s he had the cannula in his arm and was
slumping limply in the chair, already asleep.
That actually set the feeling for the next few days. The Americans, a chemist
and an extractor would leave the base in search of supplies. The kid never left
and Eames was none too subtly ordered to keep an eye on the kid. It made him
wonder. The kid made him wonder a lot.
He didn’t speak to anybody, he spent hours hooked into the PASIV. But what was
even more interesting was that nobody talked to him either. He seemed to know
what to do, and no one bothered to give him orders.
While both the American officers were too professional to say anything, Eames
could read their body language easily enough. The chemist was deeply
uncomfortable, his eyes never really looking straight at the kid. The clues
were subtle but enough to intrigue Eames, who was stuck on protection detail
alone while Jonah worked his undercover job at the hotel the mark was supposed
to use. The other agent carried himself very professionally but he still
managed to set Eames teeth on edge. He never outright said anything but his
loathing was thinly veiled. It was there, in the subtle downward curl of his
lips when he watched the kid, in the way he would take up an unnecessarily
threatening posture when in direct line of sight of the teenager, in the small,
pettily cruel ways he would bring sandwiches for himself and the chemist but
never the kid. Eames had no idea what it all was about, but he couldn’t stop
watching. There was something fascinating in the way the kid would wake up
totally aware of his surroundings every time. There was never any
disorientation, no confusion in his eyes. Just that deeply detached calmness.
It made Eames itch to see if he could knock him out of that apathy. Basically
everything about the kid seemed to make Eames itch.
He was like a ghost, moving quietly through the house at the oddest hours of
the day and night, almost never sleeping a natural sleep. Yet when Eames, sick
of Thomas’ pettiness, would make a fabulous omelet and bring it to the kid, he
would get a quick smile in return. The smile was accompanied by two stunning
dimples. It transformed the kid from a ghostly stick figure into a stunningly
beautiful boy.
* * *
This is our luck, baby, running out
Her clothes were never off
We still have hours to run about
To scale the map, scale the map, to get us back on track
I’ve seen you in a fight you lost, I’ve seen you in a fii-ii-ii-ii-ght
* * *
 
It was very early in the morning on the third day when things came to a head.
It was only him and the kid in the house. He had just finished taking a quick
shower and was heading to the room he shared with Jonah for fresh clothes when
he noticed the slim shadow in the open doorway to the living room. It was that
awkward time during the sunrise that made visibility a bitch, every nook and
corner full of shadows and sudden, unexpected bursts of rapidly changing light.
He was still mostly wet, barefoot, just the cheap towel wrapped around his
hips. The kid was standing in the doorway, one shoulder touching the white
wall. He was dressed in the jeans he arrived in and a soft, grey cotton long-
sleeved tee. The colors were bad for him, making him look even more washed out,
the fact they were a size too big made him look even skinnier than before. But
all of that didn’t matter because his eyes, those stunning dark eyes, were open
and looking straight at Eames. They were steady, calm, unashamed. In this light
they looked completely black, making it almost impossible to read his pupils.
Eames wondered if it was deliberate, the only time the kid initiated any kind
of contact was when Eames was at the most disadvantage possible in this
situation. Unarmed, practically naked... and very, very intrigued.
He straightened more, rolled his shoulder to make the muscles in his arms shift
and maybe expose his tattoos even more. It was a challenge, a gauntlet thrown.
But the kid didn’t back down. His eyes were lidded and...
So.
Damn.
Unafraid.
Eames watched as those dark eyes slid from his face, marched gently over his
shoulder tracing each of the dark lines of his tattoos and then down over the
chest he spent some quality time developing and then up again to his lips.
Without conscious thought he licked his lips and watched, fascinated, as the
kid mirrored him.
A few steps and he was right in front of the kid, barely inches apart, so close
he could smell the simple smell of his sweat and laundry detergent. Close
enough that even in the half shadows he could see the boy’s pupils dilating
slowly and could almost feel the rapidly speeding up pulse.
“See something you like?” He asked, his voice rougher than he expected.
The boy didn’t flinch, didn’t back down. His eyes were dark but steady, staring
Eames down without a glimmer of fear.
“Arthur” The boy’s voice was soft but clear, the first words Eames heard him
utter since he saw him.
Eames had no idea why, but he knew in that moment that it was his true name. He
watched the way the longish hair fell over Arthur’s face and curled in the
oddest direction, and he became suddenly aware of the fact that he liked the
boy looking at him. That for three day’s he’d done everything he could do to
make him look at Eames. He also became aware of the fact that Arthur wasn’t the
only one affected here. His own pulse was speeding up.
He backed up, suddenly remembering that the kid in front of him was definitely
underage and a foreign government agent to boot. If he was honest with himself,
he had to admit it wasn’t the body that attracted him. It was the well hidden
intelligence and that strange self-possession that people twice his age found
it hard to achieve. He also made it a conscious effort not to speculate about
the things that had to happen to Arthur to make him that way.
He went to his room to dress, trying to make heads or tails of his feelings and
resolutely ignoring the half erection he was still sporting. He was insane if
he even thought about having sex with the scrawny thing.
If he thought this... thing was over, he was severely wrong. Arthur obviously
did his research and did it well, because when he entered the kitchen to make
his usual breakfast, Arthur was already there. The shades were closed on the
windows, casting the place in permanent half shadows.
Still dressed in the same clothes, Arthur was leaning back on the kitchen
counter, a bottle of water tilted up, head tilted back and Adams apple bobbing
as he swallowed water.
His throat was long and lean, and somehow very attractive. Still, what made
Eames swallow and lick his dry lips was the way Arthur’s dark eyes slid
sideways to him. The kid looked at him with that infuriating gaze and just kept
on drinking.
And really, enough was enough. It Arthur wanted to play with fire, Eames would
make him burn.
It only took three big steps to reach Arthur. In one smooth movement he
wrenched the water bottle away, throwing it over his shoulder with one hand
while his other one found a grip over Arthur’s neck. The cool, dark hair
tickled his hand when he pulled the infuriating boy towards him and kissed him.
He pressed his lips hard, biting punishingly at the lower lip and pressing his
tongue inwards. He forcefully controlled Arthur’s position, maybe trying to
scare the kid a little because damn it, Eames was more than twice his size and
could break him like a toothpick.
And oh, that thought only made a parade of dirty thoughts screen though his
brain like a porno. He wondered how it would feel to strip him bare, throw him
on the bed and just fold him in half. He felt a very illicit thrill at the
obvious size difference between them, thinking his cock would split him in
half.
He expected Arthur to fight him, to resist at least somewhat, because he
couldn’t ever remember seeing someone as independent as Arthur. Well, maybe
except himself. Instead, the boy just exhaled softly and allowed himself to be
manhandled. Not once did he resist. He made no sounds, but the gentle puffs of
air he exhaled through his nose were coming in faster than they did before.
Eames let go of his neck and slid his hands to grip those skinny hips. Never
once stopping his kisses he pulled the boy up against him and was pleased to
find him hard. He stopped mauling Arthur’s lips and instead mauled his neck. It
kind of drove him insane, the tendons visible with every little move Arthur
made. As his teeth closed none too gently on the tendon and his hands grabbed a
pretty handful of small, firm ass, Arthur’s breath hitched.
He mauled more, not bothering with being gentle. Eames left bite marks all over
that pale skin. He slid his palms under the loose jeans and just went to town
touching, palming, spreading his firm ass cheeks. Sometimes he would let his
fingers slip between those cheeks and would rub the tight hole there making
Arthur shiver violently.
Eames was so damn hard, turned on beyond belief and couldn’t give a damn about
the age difference or really anything else than getting his cock into that,
frankly excellent, ass. The most he was willing to do was get them both to his
bed. The fact that he had supplies there also a factor.
He untangled his hands from Arthur’s jeans and then untangled the boy’s hands
from his own shirt. The teenager looked wrecked. His lips were puffy and red,
his neck a mass of bruises and bite-marks, his jeans already halfway down his
hips.
“Bedroom. Now.” Sometimes, Eames stunned himself with how eloquent he could be.
Really.
The house was small enough that it only took a few minutes to get to the tiny
room he claimed as his own. As soon as they passed the threshold, Eames grabbed
Arthur around the waist and threw him on the bed, hard enough to make him
bounce.
“Don’t move.” He growled and then started stripping.
It was a rush, something he usually wanted with his lovers, when Arthur watched
his every move. His stunning dark eyes stayed glued to Eames as he pulled his
shirt off, revealing hard muscles and tattoos that Arthur had caught a glimpse
of earlier. This time his eyes fastened on the dark lines with all of that
quiet intensity that made Eames burn. He opened his pants and pulled them down
with his underwear. There was no point in pretending they were going to do
anything else than fuck like rabbits.
He heard the loud swallow as Arthur’s eyes reached his cock, already dark and
heavy with blood. He knew he had a killer body, getting laid was never a
problem for him, so without any kind of self-consciousness he went to his bag
and pulled out condom and lube.
He threw the items on the bed and then crawled between the long, skinny legs of
the boy obediently stretched on his bed. Arthur’s breath hitched when he pulled
the ugly grey shirt off him. The boy was really skinny, like Eames could circle
his ribcage with his damn hands. There was some muscle definition that spoke of
at least some kind of training but what arrested his attention were the track
marks. Running up the insides of both hands, there were injection marks in
various states of healing. Hundreds and hundreds of them. Some a few years old.
He almost started wondering just when did the kid get into the Dreamshare
program before pulling back from that dangerous line of thought.
Arthur seemed to follow his line of thought because his eyes narrowed and his
mouth pressed into a thin line.
“Don’t pity me.” He growled and glared, much like an offended cat.
Eames snorted again.
“Don’t worry Darling, I’m still going to fuck you senseless.”
“Get on with it, then.” Arthur shot back, but his voice was breathy enough that
Eames knew he wasn’t as in control as he pretended.
As he stripped the jeans and underwear from those skinny hips, Eames caught an
eyeful of a pretty slim, flushed cock. Judging from the way the kid shivered
and flinched at the first touch, Eames knew he wasn’t experienced. Actually the
word virgin kind of kept trying to pop into his brain but, as with other
things, he ignored it. It was bad enough he was going to fuck an underage kid,
he didn’t need to think he was probably the first to boot.
It still was strangely hot that when he put his palms on those long, slender
thighs he could feel the low tremble under his hands. Still, when he pushed,
Arthur only bit down on his lower lip and spread his legs.
I would be better to get the boy to relax first, and since Eames had no
inclination to spend some ungodly amount of time on preparation he would use a
shortcut. Arthur was young enough that getting hard again wasn’t going to be a
problem.
Without ceremony he lowered his head and took as much of that pink, flushed
cock in his mouth as he could. And he could take a lot. He started sucking and
bobbing his head immediately, figuring that it really wouldn’t take much to
bring the kid over the edge.
Arthur shouted and all but curled over Eames’ head, his fingers twisting into
his hair mercilessly, his thighs twitching uselessly against Eames’ broad
shoulders. It didn’t really take much to get him to come, the long fingers
digging painfully into Eames scalp. Even while in the throes of orgasm, the kid
was almost completely silent and oh, but that was almost an insult.
His gamble paid off, as it had a tendency to do, and when he pressed two
fingers into Arthur, he was tight but yielding. The lube was cold still and the
stretch too much to be anything but painful but the boy only panted and dug his
fingers into Eames’ shoulders, never once trying to protest. It made Eames feel
grateful because he was so hard already, he felt like he was losing his sanity.
As soon as he could fit three fingers into the tight hole he pulled out.
Arthur’s breath hitched but Eames didn’t look, trying to steady his hands
enough to roll a condom on. He could almost feel those dark eyes on him and
damn, but it made him hot as fucking hell. Honestly, he couldn’t ever remember
being this turned on.
He congratulated himself for the foresight of making Arthur come before
because, frankly, he didn’t really have enough brain cells working now to make
it good for Arthur or even the patience. All he could think of was getting his
cock into that tight heat and fuck until he came, everything else be damned.
Finally done with the condom and lube he wiped his hands clean on the sheets
and then turned his attention back to the naked young man stretched beneath
him. He was all slender lines and pale skin, only his cock was still flushed
pink and resting gently on his stomach, already half hard again. It made him
smirk, thinking on the incredible recovery rate of teenagers.
He grabbed double handful of those skinny hips, feeling bones under his palms
and pulled Arthur’s ass right over his own thighs, dragging him body towards
him, forcing the thighs permanently spread and lining the glistening wet hole
with the tip of his cock.
He didn’t ask if the boy was ready, he’d had ample time to protest. Instead he
shifted and pushed in, his cock sinking slowly into incredible heat, the
pressure just this side of painful. He gritted his teeth and pushed more,
forcing all of himself into Arthur, only keeping half an ear on the hitched
panting of the young man beneath him.
Once he was fully inside he had to stop, all the breath punched out of his
chest because tight didn’t even cover it. It felt like a vice was gripping him.
Arthurs eyes were squeezed shut, hands locked onto Eames forearms and squeezing
hard enough to leave bruises, chest rising up in rapid pants but his cock was
again hard, rising from his stomach in an obvious show of arousal.
That moment of stillness was all Eames could give Arthur, because his own
instinct took over and he curled over the boy, almost folding him in two and
started fucking him in earnest, relishing the incredible drag of his cock as it
forced itself into that unbelievable heat and back again, the pleasure mind
boggling. It didn’t take much for him to come, too worked up from all the
tension before. He pounded into the kid, forcing stunned, sharp, almost barking
noises out of him, filling the room the sound of flesh hitting flesh as he
strained to force all of himself into Arthur. He could feel the boys cock
pressing against his stomach when he fucked inside with particular viciousness
and it pushed him over the edge. He bit down on the boys shoulder to muffle his
yell, tasting salty sweat on his skin.
Eames rolled over to get rid of the condom quickly and then turned back to
Arthur. This time there was nothing collected or in control about him. His
cheeks were flushed unevenly, his throat and chest pink with exertion and
heaving, his eyes were liquid and wet, eyelashes clumped together with sweat or
tears, or maybe both, his thighs still spread, trembling a little from the
strain of being forced so far apart before.
Without much thought Eames pressed his lips to the swollen, dark ones of the
younger man and instead of taking hold of the still hard, unsatisfied cock, he
pressed three fingers into the boy again. He used his kiss to muffle the shout
and his heavier body mass to keep Arthur prone and his fingers stretched the
hot, abused hole. This time, without the distraction of his own cock, he
managed to hit the boy’s prostrate dead on and set off mauling it the way he
mauled Arthur’s neck.
The younger man thrashed and would have screamed if it wasn’t for Eames tongue
in his mouth, body arching, trying to scramble away from the fierce
stimulation, fingers digging bloody furrows into Eames shoulders. It took less
than a minute for the boy to come again, the orgasm so powerful his eyes rolled
back in his head and he passed out, slumping on the bed.
Eames pulled his fingers away, making a cursory check if there was no blood or
other obvious injuries then used a corner of their sheet to clean them off
somewhat before letting himself fall asleep too. Anything to postpone thinking
about what just happened.
* * *
Were under the sheets and you’re killing me
In our house made of paper, your words all over me
Were under the sheets and you’re killin’ me
* * *
Eames woke up two hours later, his head a mess, and body way too interested in
an encore. Arthur was curled up on his side, naked on top of the sheets. Eames
followed with his eyes the bumpy line of his spine down to the frankly
spectacular ass and lower, where there was a glisten of lube trailing out of
the boy.
His cock twitched.
He wondered what was it about Arthur that turned him on so badly. It wasn’t his
age because never in his life had he looked sexually at teenagers. Often he
liked his partners to be a bit older than him even. There was something in that
Sphinx of a boy that punched though his defenses like a high speed bullet.
With a sigh he reached over to the bedside table and pulled out a pack of
cigarettes and a lighter. It was a bad habit but it seemed he’d taken to
collecting bad habits recently.
Eames was halfway through his cigarette, one arm pillowed under his own head
the other occupied with the cigarette, when the body beside him stirred. He
kept still, smoking, not looking at the younger man, his eyes fixed firmly on
the ceiling. Arthur turned around, a hiss of indrawn breath enough indication
that he must be sore, and looked at Eames. For a very long moment nothing
happened, but Eames could almost feel those dark eyes almost scoring his skin.
He had no idea what he kid looked for, even less inclination to give it, but
neither could he get up and leave.
When the boy shifted suddenly, curling himself over Eames’ lap and reaching for
the half interested cock between his legs, he did nothing. He kept smoking, his
hands stubbornly steady, as the boy dragged his lips over his rapidly hardening
cock. Everything in the boy screamed of inexperience. He wasn’t shy or fearful,
but it was obvious he didn’t exactly know was he was doing either. Still his
instincts were good, very good even. He dragged his lips up and down the
straining member, lipping on the head and licking messily everywhere. When he
opened his mouth and took Eames inside finally, he didn’t manage to cover his
lips too well, but that hint of teeth was even better.
Losing his patience, Eames finally pulled him away and rolled them both until
Arthur was face down on the bed and Eames was covering him almost head to toe.
He didn’t bother with more positioning, just reached down and guided his cock
into the still wet, still stretched and probably very sore hole. The boy made a
strained sound and Eames lowered his head, trying to get at his lips, wanting
to kiss those pornographic sound off of him, wanting to fuck him, to wreck him,
to take the last shred of self-control from him and bury it under sex and filth
and just... have him.
It was like something got broken in Eames, like something crucial stopped
working. Like all the polish and sense was stripped right off of him. He fucked
the boy roughly, the half painful sounds only urging him on, until he came
again. Then he rolled Arthur over like a rag doll, pushed his fingers inside
him, while quelling his scream with his lips and then went down on the boy
sucking him into an orgasm and then through the oversensitivity into another
erection, ignoring the way his cheeks were wet with tear and how his hands kept
both pushing Eames away and pulling him for more. They fucked as if their life
depended on it, viciously and desperately. When Arthur couldn’t take any more
penetration Eames pushed his thighs together fucked between them, messing the
young man even more.
When they finally passed out, they were both wrecked. So sore even the thought
of sex in the next month made him queasy and mind a complete blank.
* * *
Were in a mess baby, were in a mess babe
Your more is less babe (oh, oh)
Were in a mess baby, were in a mess babe
Your more is less babe (oh, oh!)
* * *
Eames didn’t know what it was exactly that woke him up but he rolled out of bed
already clutching his gun. The American team was supposed to be training for
the extraction tomorrow, all of them asleep and Jonah as usual at the hotel
making last minute preparations. Eames was catching up on sleep because when
they finally began the action he would go sleepless for almost forty hours.
Silently he crept down to the lower floor, heading to the biggest room where
the American’s were dreaming.
When he neared the door, there were muffled sounds of struggle. The perimeter
security was still armed, and that meant they weren’t under massed attack,
probably just one intruder.
He kicked the door in, rolling low on the floor and coming up on his knees gun
directed at the moving body in the room... and froze.
The officer, Thomas was lying on the couch he usually used for dreaming, but
there was something in his posture that suggested something more nefarious than
just sleep. His eyes were half open and staring blankly into nothing, the PASIV
line still trailing from his arm. The chemist, Paul was sprawled on the floor,
throat slit, blood pooling everywhere and above him, covered in arterial spray,
stood Arthur, still holding the knife Eames recognized as his own.
His eyes were wide and dark, face as shuttered as possible... but it wasn’t as
if Eames couldn’t figure out just what happened here.
They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity. Arthur was still,
body betraying nothing, but his eyes... there was something there. Something
dark, and wild and not unlike what he saw when he had him wrecked in bed,
squirming under him.
He rose from his kneeling position, gun still trained on Arthur and reached
into his back pocket for the emergency cell phone. Without taking his eyes from
the bloody kid, he dialed Jonah. The room was so quiet, they both could hear
the signals.
Jonah picked up on the third ring. Arthur tensed, eyes boring into Eames all
dark fierceness and still so fucking unafraid.
Eames opened his mouth to inform his partner of the situation, but was probably
even more surprised than Arthur at what actually came out of his mouth.
“You have to come back. There was an incident. The extractor and the chemist
are dead, the kid is missing.”
Eames lowered his gun, recognizing he was already committed to this course of
action. If he was played, then it was done masterfully, because for all the
sex, they didn’t speak more than a handful of words to each other.
“Eames...”
“You have five minutes” Eames interrupted Arthur harshly. If he was being a
fool, he at least wanted the credit all for himself.
Arthur nodded, already turning away. Whatever he wanted to say was lost forever
as Eames listened to the door clicking shut just three minutes later.
The END
27-04-2013
I have a vague idea for their next meeting but am not sure if writing it would
be right for this story. I guess it will depend on reaction to this story :)
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!