[personal profile] counterfeiture
Title: Keep it between us
Characters: Arthur, Eames
Rating/Warning(s): PG
Author Notes: Originally posted here for [livejournal.com profile] inception_kink; Eames can has a classy talent, and Arthur is surprised.


Keep it between us.

It should not have come as a surprise to Arthur that Eames would have one skill that didn't involve deception and theft, but it did. The years between them had planted in Arthur the notion that Eames only seemed to be complex because he preferred to be perceived as shallow; it didn't make sense to Ariadne when he'd said this to her, but then Arthur was the one who taught her about paradoxical stairs, so it figures that this only made sense with him.

Nonetheless.

Arthur never bothered to Eames if he could do anything that didn't involve his line of work, or his tongue ("surely you know there are other body parts worth asking for", Eames had remarked the one time Arthur dared to think it out loud), and you couldn't really blame him. Eames was more than happy to tell Arthur the things he could do very well, happier to prove himself even better. There had been many times when Arthur was forced to swallow his own words for taunting Eames on what he says he could do - that more than anything had kicked off their rivalry at the beginning.

Arthur will gladly accede to being proven wrong - he was, however, also a sore loser.

So he never asked if Eames could do one thing or another, but merely questioned how he was going about it, nudging at the clarity and safety of Eames' designs. In turn, Eames had stopped rubbing it in Arthur's face that he has very little imagination outside of work, sometimes even applauding Arthur for a particularly smart (if rather plain) outline. Not that they don't slip up, sometimes finding themselves prodding at each other's boundaries without meaning to, but they've learned to tolerate each other well. They've had the time to beat it out of each other, quite literally.

That said, some things still fall outside Arthur's focused attention, and the fact that he didn't think of Eames' other capabilities, potential or otherwise, made him feel that familiar feeling you get with hindsight - he should have thought of this because it was obvious, except for the part where he didn't.

It was the music that piqued him, at first, that afternoon. They were the only two left in the warehouse, Cobb long gone to fly back to the States along with his father-in-law to catch Cobb's son's first appearance in a school play, and Ariadne had gone with them. Yusef still had to return from Kenya, and Arthur - he wasn't expected yet for a few hours, but he'd decided to clock in early and do some reviewing on their current job. Eames had stayed in the warehouse, had been staying there for most of the week to set up all the things they needed, and he was taking a nap when Arthur had come in.

It was a little over an hour after Arthur started going over his notes that he heard the music.

Arthur could recognize the song anywhere; what was different was the cadence, the vibrancy of the notes, the notable lack of a female voice singing with her entire soul. It was a violin rendition of one of Edith Piaf's songs, the notes trembling with audible grace as the bow drew its hairs across the strings. He could see by listening how the bow was moving, could imagine clearly the instrument being played, and yet--

He had to see for himself.

And he did. Eames sat on the ottoman he'd fallen asleep in, the violin case Arthur had mistaken for a suitcase left open. The forger sat with his back straight, the violin resting carefully in the crook of his neck and shoulder, and his fingers - those strong fingers Arthur had only seen wrapper around all manners of tools - his fingers held the bow with such grace and affection. The music he played was beautiful; Arthur right away could tell that Eames was a practiced player just by sound, as if the fact that Eames seemed to be pouring great amounts of affection into his playing wasn't key enough. Arthur couldn't believe it, and yet the die in his pocket was its proper weight, every imperfection where it was supposed to be.

The music stopped when Eames opened his eyes, and saw him standing a distance from him, leaning against a metal column.

"I'm sorry," Eames murmured; Arthur felt a touch of uneasiness in realizing this was the closest he's come to seeing Eames somewhat embarrassed. "I didn't hear you come in."

"You were asleep," Arthur replied, rubbing the die to keep one hand busy. "I didn't want to wake you."

"I wish you had."

The silence stretched for a little more, Arthur finding himself wanting to have the capacity to fidget as he watched Eames but the violin back in its case, sliding the bow into its place and clipping it shut, then setting the violin inside, brushing a stray speck of dust from the polished wood surface. They looked at each other, meeting each other's eyes by accident before drawing back. It wasn't long before Arthur walked over to Eames, sitting next to the other on the ottoman.

"I didn't know you could play," Arthur began, if a little timidly, like a child caught watching his father's movies when he thought there was no one home to stop him. "You play very well."

"Well, Arthur," said Eames, sounding more honest than Arthur had ever heard him be, "you never asked."

"Fair enough." Arthur shook his head, smiling. He made to stand, before a hand stopped him, pulling him by the shoulder to sit back down. Arthur raised a brow. "What is it?"

"Keep it between us," Eames said, fingers idling at the violin case's lock.

He couldn't stop himself from making a remark. "What will it cost you?"

Eames only smiled, a knowing, certain, smug smile Arthur knew spelled things for himself that he didn't want to know just yet. Then Eames leaned in to kiss Arthur on the cheek, and played for Arthur his favorite songs.

It should not have come as a surprise to Arthur that Eames would know which songs they were, but it did. And he couldn't help but smile.
From:
Anonymous( )Anonymous This account has disabled anonymous posting.
OpenID( )OpenID You can comment on this post while signed in with an account from many other sites, once you have confirmed your email address. Sign in using OpenID.
User
Account name:
Password:
If you don't have an account you can create one now.
Subject:
HTML doesn't work in the subject.

Message:

 
Notice: This account is set to log the IP addresses of everyone who comments.
Links will be displayed as unclickable URLs to help prevent spam.

Profile

eames

July 2015

S M T W T F S
   1234
567891011
12131415161718
19202122232425
262728293031 

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Jul. 24th, 2017 06:30 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios