"but in your dreams (whatever they be)"

[kellifer]

Title: but in your dreams (whatever they be)
Rating/Warning: PG
Wordcount: 2,400
Spoilers: Movie
Fandom: Inception
By: kellifer_fic
Category: Arthur/Ariadne/Eames
Disclaimer: Written for entertainment purposes only. No money, no sue.

"Arthur."

"Eames."

"Arthur."

"Eames."

"Arthur."

"Eames."

"Arthur."

"Eames."

"Darling boy."

"Eames."

Ariadne knows this type of thing can go on for hours because Eames is inexhaustible and Arthur is unflappable. Ariadne used to be the one to interject, yelling at them to shut up for sanity's sake but she doesn't any longer. It's become something they do, comfortable in its familiarity and a ritual not to be ignored, much like testing your totem even when you know for sure, as sure as you ever can be, that you're outside of a dream.

Yusuf is not so patient and hasn't been made immune by constant proximity. Yusuf yells at them but he's also holding something experimental, Yusuf is always holding something experimental and Ariadne watches a test tube with a dull orange liquid go flying across the room when Yusuf flaps his hands in frustration.

Ariadne catches movement out of the corner of her eye and it's Arthur putting a hand up to his face, pinching his airways closed. Ariadne has a second to think that maybe she should do the same but that second is also occupied by the test tube hitting the floor and smashing and then

~ wake me up ~

" - are nauseating and adorable at the same time. It's kind of like watching a puppy throw up."

Ariadne has a half bitten tomato wedge on a path to her mouth but she sets it down to blink at Yusuf and Eames, across the table from her. She looks down for a second at her salad, back up at her companions and asks, "How did we get here?"

Eames rolls his eyes and says, "I was..." He looks up for a second, taps at his chin and then frowns, turning his attention to Yusuf . "Well hell, just what were you working on?"

Yusuf grimaces, reaching out to clutch fingers around the glass of wine to the left of his plate. "Some... combinations," he admits, swallowing.

"I really wish you would keep your combinations to yourself, dear heart. I had things to do today," Eames laments, pushing away from the table. "Now, who do I need to kill to get out of here?"

"Is there... does this feel a little different than normal?" Ariadne asks, touching the table cloth under her fingers, rubbing it in a nervous gesture. Ever since the concept of limbo had been brought up, it's taken her a little time to work up the nerve to do any jobs. To be thrown into a dream unceremoniously without a triple-checked plan and an iron-clad kick worked out beforehand has her breathing shallow.

"What's normal for us?" Eames asks with a bland expression but Yusuf is looking at Ariadne and his expression is worried which is never a good sign.

~ wake me up ~

They're walking down a nondescript street and that's one thing that has always jarred Ariadne about the dreamscape.

The change in location and situation that can come quite unexpectedly when it's not a meticulously designed construct that they're deliberately planting themselves into.

Eames is ahead a little, weaving between passersby. Every now and again he'll throw a look over his shoulder like he's checking that Ariadne and Yusuf are still behind him. Ariadne grins and sketches a little wave every time he does it and he snorts and shakes his head every time she does that. Ariadne has the strangest sensation that she's missing something and she touches her totem in her pocket to ensure its presence when it dawns on her.

"Where's Arthur?"

Eames stops then and a man with a bland face but a nice suit jostles him so hard Eames stumbles sideways a little. Eames reaches out a hand and snags the man, ignoring the way the man struggles with him long enough to finger his suit jacket. "Yes, where has that dear boy gotten to? This is certainly Arthur's type of projection." The projection finally dislodges Eames' grip and beats a hasty retreat, disappearing into a crowd that all throw the small group increasingly worried frowns as they pass by.

"I told you, experimental," Yusuf huffs, herding them into a nearby store doorway when a petite female jogger nearly barrels him over.

"Just what have you been up to?" Ariadne demands, stabbing Yusuf in the chest with a pointed finger.

"Day dreaming... of a sort," Yusuf finally admits and when Ariadne and Eames both look at him blankly he pushes the store door open behind him and gestures them inside. They all stop when they've breached the interior because the space is half mundane shop and half... nothing. There's what can only be described as blank space on the edges of the room, pockets of unfilled in areas that hurt the eyes to look at.

"This isn't like Arthur," Eames observes, edging towards one of the blank spaces, Ariadne snagging the back of his jacket when he gets too close. "That boy is a walking closed loop. He wouldn't leave anything undone like this."

"We're not in Arthur's dream exactly," Yusuf says. "This is possibly the purest form of shared dream, drawing from all of us."

"Possibly?" Ariadne says.

"How many times do I have to say experimental?" Yusuf says, rolling his eyes heavenward. "This is closer to a shared delusion than anything else. Not stable enough yet to take into the field by a long shot."

"So, where's Arthur?" Eames repeats Ariadne's initial question.

Yusuf shrugs. "Still awake? The benefit of the shared delusion is that one, in theory, could experience it while still being conscious. No more getting trapped inside dreams. You could be aware while your subject isn't."

~ wake me up ~

They're in a small flat with faded yellow wallpaper and the distinctive smell of curry in the air. When Yusuf just appears confused Ariadne turns her attention to Eames who looks decidedly put out. "My flat is my one refuge. I would not have brought you here."

"You probably can't help it," Yusuf says. "We need to make a pact now that anything we see while we're riding this out stays between us."

"Why?" Ariadne asks, unable to help her curiosity being piqued. For all his bravado, Eames is possibly the most private of all of them. His brashness is a wall that allows nothing real to penetrate, probably a defensive habit from being a forger.

Ariadne sometimes even idly wonders if the accent is real.

"We'll start getting dragged into deeper places, those we wouldn't wish anyone to see. Just think of it as dream Tourette's. The last thing you'll want us to see is what you'll concentrate hardest on without meaning to do so, therefore it will rise to the surface of your mind."

"So, nobody think of the pink elephant," Eames says, sounding jovial but he blanches when they all turn at the opening of the bathroom door.

"Arthur!" Ariadne exclaims, feeling profoundly relieved. Arthur is standing in the bathroom doorway with a towel wrapped around his waist, another slung over his shoulders. His hair is slicked back from his face as usual but with water instead of whatever cement he usually uses so the ends curl damply. "We didn't think you'd been dragged in here."

"What's going on?" Arthur asks, moving towards Eames who scuttles sideways.

"Ah, Ariadne," Yusuf says from just over her shoulder. "I don't think this is our Arthur."

"What-?" Ariadne starts to ask but then her eyes skip to Eames who has his face covered with one hand.

"I'm pretty sure this is Eames' Arthur," Yusuf adds unnecessarily and Ariadne nods, smiling tightly.

"Got it, thanks," she says. "So, how about that pact?"

~ wake me up ~

The strip club is no surprise but Ariadne is a little unprepared to learn that it's from Yusuf rather than Eames.

Yusuf disappears almost as soon as they arrive and Ariadne assumes it's because he doesn't want to watch his companions judge his dreamscape. Ariadne follows Eames to the bar farthest away from grinding dancers and smiles when he practically vaults the bar top and appears again with a full bottle of scotch. "Maybe we can dull the pain a little, eh?" he proposes, herding Ariadne to a nearby table.

Once they're seated and Ariadne has assured the dancer dressed in a cheer-leading costume that she really doesn't want a private dance and punched Eames in the knee for calling her over, she folds her arms and leans forward. "So, Arthur and you-"

"Have a strictly professional relationship, darling," Eames interjects, pouring Ariadne a small measure of the scotch into a glass he snags off a passing waitress and then takes a healthy belt himself straight from the bottle.

"No, I mean, yes of course," Ariadne says quickly, nodding. She contemplates her glass for a moment, looks at her nails, at a scratch in the table. She finally can't hold it in any longer. "It's just that-"

"No one can control what they dream about, not even us," Eames snaps and Ariadne blinks at him. She doesn't think she's ever seen him drop his jovial front, even while mowing down attacking projections.

"Oh, I know," Ariadne says, hands held out, palms up. Eames takes another long swallow from the bottle, watching her out of the corner of his eye. "But-"

"Ariadne, darling. I will pay you all the money in my pockets and steal all the money in everyone else's pockets and give it to you if you would just drop this."

"Do you really think he looks like that though?" Ariadne asks and Eames opens his mouth and then closes it again, finally setting the bottle down on the table. "I just figured you'd possibly seen him that way."

"Are you asking me if I know that's how Arthur looks in a towel?" Eames asks with the beginnings of a grin touching the corners of his mouth, one eyebrow raised. "Are you not as straight-laced as you appear to be?" It's Eames' turn to lean forward. "Are you intrigued?"

"He's always in a suit or something equally..." Ariadne flails a hand, unsure how to describe what she wants to say. She feels her cheeks heat but figures it's only fair she let Eames into her head since he was forced to let her into his. "It's hard not to wonder what he looks like out of it."

~ wake me up ~

They're on a beach and for a panicked second Ariadne thinks they've dropped through to limbo, but the shore stretches up to cliffs with trees dotting them and families are on the boardwalk above. Ariadne remembers spending summers in this place and while the day is warm, there's only a solitary figure down by the water line.

"You're far more tame than I," Eames remarks, voice so close that Ariadne startles. The little squeak she makes is enough to catch the figure's attention and he turns and of course it's Arthur, dressed in cargo pants that are cut off just below the knee and a white button-down shirt of a fabric so light that it lifts in the sea breeze. Ariadne looks around and she can't see Yusuf. She's glad that the only witness to this particular place is Eames. Arthur approaches them with a gentle smile on his face and Eames' eyebrows shoot comically high when Arthur makes a beeline for him and grabs a fistful of Eames' shirtfront, dragging him into a forceful kiss.

When they break apart finally, both panting, Eames turns an amused smile on Ariadne. "Well, perhaps not," he says.

~ wake me up ~

The warehouse is next and Ariadne wonders who would dream about work. She's on the floor with a pillow under her head and Arthur's jacket tossed over her torso. She rises to her elbows and sees a projection of Arthur behind his desk. As soon as he feels her gaze her looks up, rounds his desk to her quickly. He slides to a halt by her hip, hands balled at his sides like he wants to reach out but is stopping himself. "Are you-?"

Ariadne has a moment to think what the hell before she knots a hand in Arthur's tie and drags him down to her, pressing her lips to his. The projection is stiff for a moment before he relaxes. Ariadne breaks the kiss first, sees over Arthur's shoulder that Eames is watching them, slumped in a chair nearby. "Now him," she instructs. "I'm pretty sure in here you belong to both of us."

The projection opens his mouth, looks over his own shoulder and then shrugs. "What the hell," she hears him huff and then he's over to Eames, dropping to one knee and Eames has a hand tangled in the hair at Arthur's nape, holding them together as soon as Arthur is close enough.

They break apart and the projection is up and over to his desk again, looking slightly rumpled but otherwise so Arthur that Ariadne reaches for her totem, draws out the chess piece slowly and sets it down on the floor beside her. She knocks it sideways and it goes over with a dull thunk but doesn't roll like it would in a dream. "I was worried," Arthur, very much not a projection, says from behind his desk. "I didn't know what was happening until Yusuf woke up three minutes before you did."

Ariadne slowly turns her gaze towards Eames who is looking at Arthur with wide eyes, appearing to be as startled as she feels. "Where is Yusuf?" Eames asks slowly and Ariadne realises that was why Yusuf wasn't on the beach with them, because he had already woken.

"Bathroom. Had to piss like a racehorse, his words," Arthur says, shuffling papers. "You know how he is."

Ariadne turns her stare back to Arthur who returns her gaze after a moment, attention skipping between herself and Eames. "So, hungry?" Arthur asks.

"I could eat," Eames says, rising from his chair with a groan, distinctive cracking noise heard when he digs both fists into the small of his back and arches.

"Yeah... yes, me too," Ariadne agrees, passes Arthur his jacket when he comes over to offer her a hand up.