FIC: Kiss Trick, 9/?

[the_ragnarok]

Tiny little update before I go make dinner.


The corridors that Ariadne made are beautiful. Eames closes his eyes and takes in the smell of polish, the sound of his footsteps softly muffled by the worn carpet. Good architects are so hard to come by.

Then he opens his eyes, and goes again with a more critical look. The atmosphere is perfect, Ariadne doesn't need his help with that, but what she knows about art is entirely cerebral. She has no understanding of how the pieces ought to feel, which, inside the dream, can be easily as important as making them look right.

Their chosen piece is particularly important – and yes, Eames is glad he asked Ariadne to look at it, because it's all wrong. It looks as it should, of course, and the physical (mental? Eames isn't certain how to call it) sensation of the material under his hands is precisely correct, but.

"Look at it, Ariadne," Eames says. "What do you see?"

She shrugs apologetically. "Something that tries to look human and fails?"

Eames sighs despairingly. From her corner, Sandra chuckles, and Eames casts a reproving look at her. "You aren't helping," he says, rather pointedly.

"Sorry," she says. "I have no idea what it's supposed to be either."

"A woman, for starters," Eames says, before he can be driven to completely give up on this and hope Bayliss' mind conjures the emotional associations himself. But that can't be relied on, not given the nature of Eames' plan.

The thing is, nobody goes on a short, quick heist to steal something larger than a man and several times heavier. The supposed plan, the one he'll give to Bayliss, needs to be something else, small and easily removable. Then, if everything works correctly, Bayliss will fall in love with this sculpture and insist on stealing it instead. This will give Dom the time he'll need to get into Bayliss' mental safes. But none of it will work if the piece can't capture Bayliss' heart. He needs to fall in love at first sight, or it will be all for nothing.

Eames quite enjoys the fact that being a soppy romantic is, on occasion, written right into his job description.

"Look at her position," Eames says. "It's right there in the name, reclining figure. She's not having a nap, she's there to seduce."

"I don't see it," Ariadne says doubtfully, while Sandra rolls her eyes and says, "Male gaze, much?"

"Exactly," Eames says. "Personal opinions on the subject aside, there's no denying that this is something likely to be employed by almost all well-known artists since the Grecian period." What he's saying is a gross oversimplification, bordering on the factually untrue; then again, he's saying it mostly to rile Sandra up, and that goal is obviously achieved.

"Look, just because – " she starts saying, then is stopped by Ariadne's firm hand over her mouth.

"He's just trying for a reaction, jeez," Ariadne says. "Don't encourage him." And to Eames, she says, "I see what you're doing there. Quit it."

Eames closes his eyes and manfully holds back the urge to bash his head against the nearest wall. "My apologies," he says, curt. "At any rate, Ariadne – it doesn't matter if it's true or not. To grab Bayliss, this is what we need. Could you do that?"

Ariadne lets out a breath, her forehead furrowing in concentration as she lays her hands on the sculpture, kneeling to press her cheek to it. Eames can see the change as it happens, can see something vital pouring out of Ariadne and into the piece. When Ariadne rises the white surface of the figure glows softly, not something actually perceivable by the eye but something Eames can sense. He wants to touch it, now, to lie down beside it.

"Excellent," Eames says, after Ariadne looks at him for a moment, and smiles at her with honest happiness. It's hard for him to remember why he was so irritable just moments ago.

Ariadne climbs to sit in the figure's lap. "It feels friendly," she says. "Hey, Sandra, check it out!"

"I didn't know you could do this," Sandra comments. She comes to stand by the statue, but doesn't touch it. "Is this – " She looks aside, catches Eames' eye, then says, " – that thing you mentioned?"

"Well, some of it," Ariadne says. Eames supposes he has no right to inquire what the hell they're talking about. "And some I improvised. Maybe I'll get a chance to show you what it's like on this job."

"Like that technique Arthur's keeping secret," Sandra says dryly. "I like how this job is slowly turning into a showcase."

Ariadne jumps off the sculpture's stand. "Don't act like you don't enjoy it."

"It's not very relevant, really," Sandra says. "I won't be coming under with you, remember?"

Ariadne grins. "Then I'll just have to get you under and show it to you some other time."

Sandra laughs, and the dream wobbles until Eames blinks his eyes to see the living room ceiling.

Arthur's kneeling beside him, pressing a bit of clean gauze to Eames' wrist where the IV cannula isn't anymore. "What do you think?"

Eames blinks. His eyes are a little dry. "I think we're ready."

Arthur nods sharply, once. "I'll get everything organized."

~~

Once again they're all gathered in the living room as Arthur stands in front of a whiteboard. "Timing," Arthur says, "is everything." Eames leans back in his chair, chin resting on his hand, and enjoys Arthur's predictable ways. There is nothing in this speech that they don't know already, but hearing it is good for them, will ready them further for action.

"First level," Arthur says. "Standard hotel, Ariadne is the dreamer." Ariadne nods, and slants a glance at Cobb, who hopefully has the second level well memorised. "Second level, museum art heist. Cobb is the dreamer, Eames has the main contact with the subject."

"And what will you do?" Sandra interjects.

Arthur smiles at this, like he's genuinely glad she asked. "Me, I'm the getaway driver," he says.

Sandra nods. "And above everything, I watch over your sorry asses."

"So that's everyone," Arthur says. "All right. Sandra, you armed?" Sandra pulls her Sig Sauer out of its holster, then pushes it back at Arthur's nod. "Questions?" There are none, and they're off.

~~

Grabbing Bayliss isn't a particularly easy part, but it's one Eames has little to do with. Mostly it's Arthur, Cobb and Sandra doing that part. All Eames has to do is buy a train ticket and show up.

When he arrives, Arthur is securing Bayliss while Sandra configures the PASIV. "I'm using Yesterday to cue the kick," she says without looking up. "That okay?"

"Fine, thank you for asking," Eames says, and sits down, waiting for her to intubate him. He's glad that apparently she didn't take his little tantrum to heart. It's important to have a cordial relationship with someone that sticks needles in you, after all.

For all the talks they had about extra-tight militarizations, it's not as if standard militarizations are a walk in the park. Eames is barely under for a minute when the hotel staff starts glaring at them.

"Shit," Ariadne hisses, as the projections approach them menacingly.

"Right," Eames says grimly, conjuring a weapon, but his attention is derailed by the fact that Arthur darts, lightning-quick, and plants a kiss on Cobb.

Eames doesn't even have the time to say, "Really?" before the scenery... rises.

The polished marble floor turns into quicksand in patches, swallowing projections down. Perfectly innocent pieces of furniture suddenly develop tentacles (honestly, Arthur, tentacles?) and grab knife-bearing limbs.

After a few minutes, the lobby is empty but for the four of them.

"Holy crap," Ariadne says in a small voice. "And here I thought you were joking that time you kissed me. Uh, it was during the Fischer job," she says to Eames, "you guys weren't together then, right?"

Eames considers answering when Cobb says, "Is this really the time to be discussing this?"

Without so much as glancing at Cobb, Arthur says, "No joke," already looking distracted. "I have to be the dreamer and it doesn't work with everyone, but, as you see," he gestures at the empty hallway, "it's pretty effective when it does."

It's not the first time Eames has seen Arthur do his kiss trick. He tried it with Eames once, long before Eames even thought of trying anything with him. It was a quick, dry peck, and had no effect whatsoever. Eames has worked with Arthur long enough by now to gather the pattern of it, and what he knows now makes it painfully obvious how this works. The people this works best with are the ones who seek Arthur's company most diligently, and often the ones Arthur tries hardest to avoid.

Eames glances at Ariadne, slightly baffled that Arthur even tried with her – although, right, Arthur wouldn't have known that Ariadne's gay, since to the best of Eames' knowledge Ariadne doesn't regularly discuss that sort of thing with Arthur. Strange that it worked with Cobb, though.

Although, perhaps, not so strange as Eames would have liked to think, considering the way Mal's shade used to smile when she shot Arthur somewhere painful. Because Cobb is good at buildings but not so good with people, and Eames could spot the flaws in his projection of Mal, the way her expressions sometimes turned uncanny-valley wrong when his subconscious was trying for something he couldn't make from memory.

"Darling," Eames says under his breath, to himself as much as to Arthur, "If I should ever ask you about your past relationship with the Cobbs, remind me that I don't want to actually know."

Arthur, if he hears, ignores him utterly. Eames sighs and checks his weapon. They're here for a job, after all.