Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Today was the day.

He sometimes thought he saw it, between looks of condescension, between barbed taunts and glares and eyerolling. A flash of amusement, a moment of genuine admiration, a twinkle of fondness. And so he hoped.

Eames remembered the first time they had met, how Arthur had blown him away (not literally, thank you very much - one had to have specificity when it came to such things in dreamshare). Cobb had introduced them, meeting downside as was standard in the practice at that time, in a fledgling illicit business where your identity was your life. Arthur had taken one look at the woman Eames was forging and had simply said, "Mr. Eames. Interesting to meet you face to face at last." Eames had been taken aback - no one had ever seen through that forgery before, not on the first try. Much less identify the forger behind it.

Cobb had laughed at the look on Eames' face, turned to Arthur, and asked "So, what do you think?"

"Adequate. He'll do for this job, anyway," Arthur had replied.

Eames had been smitten ever since.

And today was the day. This long, tedious job was almost done. He knew for a FACT that Arthur had no jobs lined up after this one (and hadn't finding THAT out been a bitch. Arthur's personal contacts and dealings were not easily broken into.) Eames had it all planned - after the extraction, he would coax the handsome point man to join him for a drink, and then produce two tickets to Lisbon. Arthur had made a comment months ago about how he'd never had the opportunity to go there with a particularly wistful look in his eye, and Eames had seen his chance.

The extraction would be the easy part, it was all the lead up that was the issue. The mark was a businessman, known to be embezzling from his company, and the employer wanted to know where their money was going before confronting him, for ease of recovery. Because of the numerous medications that the mark was on, Yusuf had needed to create an entirely new mix of Somnacin and had been testing it on the individual members of the team for weeks now. Unusually, he'd be joining them at the beginning of the dream, to double check that the mark did not have any poor reactions to the drug that appeared in his subconscious. Arthur had been buried in details of the man's work and his ever-changing schedule, to try and find some sort of opportunity to get him alone for an extended period of time. Ariadne and Cobb had been working together closely to construct a dream setting that would sufficiently awe the man. And Eames had been trailing the mark's priest, to prepare his forgery. Once in the dream, they would play on the man's Catholic guilt to find where the money had been transferred. Eames would be playing duel roles, as he was both the dreamer and receiving the mans confession.

And after it was all over, in the rush of celebration, he would finally - finally - convince Arthur to give him a shot.

Chapter Text

Eames looked around the finished dream admiringly. Ariadne had outdone herself. The tall, sweeping cathedral was almost a work of art in and of itself, and a perfect setting for the devout Catholic they were extracting from. The church was mostly empty, except for a few praying projections sitting in the pews. Eames noticed a man entering an empty confessional and smiled to himself - that would be where he would play his part.

"Magnificent work, Ariadne - this may be your finest design yet." Eames said approvingly.

"I... yes. I mean, thank you," the architect stammered. She quickly turned her head away, slightly flushed.

Eames wrinkled his forehead a bit - Ariadne usually was straightforward in accepting compliments - she'd gotten over her initial bashfulness about her designs long ago.

Cobb was looking at Eames contemplatively, then at the surrounding building.
"I'm going to take a quick look around," he said slowly, his eyes lingering on Eames.

"Are you sure, Cobb?" asked Arthur. "We haven't practiced this layout as much as I would have liked. Wouldn't it be better if you stayed in position?"

"It's fine, I'll be back soon. Eames, stay here for a few minutes."

"Considering this is where I'm supposed to be, you can count on it," said Eames, eyebrows raised.

Shaking his head slightly, he dreamed himself up a mirror so he could put on his forge.

"Oh! Let me do that!" said Ariadne, and instantly there was a far finer mirror, one that fit the grand cathedral much better.

"You architects and your aesthetics," smirked Eames. Ariadne flushed again and stammered, "I just thought, this mirror would... would suit you better for making your forge."

"And I do appreciate it," said Eames lightly, and he stood in front of the mirror.

"Ah, now Eames, such a shame that you have to slip out of your wonderful visage into an aged old priest," sighed Yusuf. "It will pale in comparison to what you are wearing now."

Eames laughed, glancing down at his bright pink paisley shirt. "Thanks, Yusuf, I get enough jabs about my fashion sense from Arthur. Good to know you care."

"Enough of all this," said Arthur with a frown. "You should all be getting into position."

Eames responded by shifting into the form of the priest, examining himself closely in the mirror. However, Yusuf and Ariadne still hovered nearby.

"Let's get going people," snapped Arthur.

The two looked started, and hustled away out of the main hall, heading outside. Ariadne glanced once back over her shoulder towards Eames and Arthur as the door closed behind her.

Chapter Text

Arthur remained in the Cathedral hall with Eames. Since Eames would be out in the open with projections for the longest, it had been agreed that someone should be there with him just in case. Violence from a priest would seem out of character, after all.

Eames would have to wait a while for his part - after Cobb carefully primed the mark, Eames was to sweep in at the last moment, as the man's priest, and accept his confession.

He turned to Arthur. "So, do you come here often?"

"What, to church? I'm Jewish, Eames," Arthur said with raised eyebrows.

"Ah, but that does not mean you'd want to miss out on a religious experience. After all, with me looking like this, yours is the most heavenly body in here."

Arthur rolled his eyes at him, but he was smiling. One of the things he liked about Arthur, Eames decided, was that he always looked at him the same way, no matter what body Eames might be wearing. Eames had long been impressed by Arthur's ability to see through his forges immediately, even when Eames was trying to surprise him.

Once, Eames had "accidentally" overturned some of Cobb's papers to kept him busy, and slipped into a dream with Arthur in Cobb's place, wearing the extractor's form. He'd wanted to see the pointman's face when Cobb suddenly started going off-script.

Before he had a chance to say anything at all, though, Arthur had turned to him and asked, puzzled,
"Eames. What are you doing here?"

"I'm ever so impressed, darling - how did you know it was me?"

"Maybe you're not as good as you think, Mr. Eames," Arthur had smiled.

Now in the cathedral, just the two of them, it didn't matter what form Eames wore. It was still just Arthur and Eames.

"What is taking Cobb so long?" Arthur wondered, looking around the grand hall. "He's supposed to be here with us to meet the mark." Across the hall, a projection glanced their way. Arthur kept an eye on it, wary.

Eames shrugged. Cobb's absence was a plus in his book.

The projection stood up from it's pew and walked over to them, and Arthur tensed. But the projection - an attractive woman in her late 30's, ignored Arthur completely, instead focusing entirely on Eames-the-priest.

"Hello there, Father," she purred.

"Good morning, my Child," Eames intoned, glancing sideways at Arthur.

"Father, I wonder if you had some time to speak with me about a... personal matter. It's just been tearing me up inside, and I wondered if we could go someplace private, for you to accept my confession?" She leaned onto the pew, and Eames couldn't help but glance down to where her blouse opened to reveal her cleavage - a few buttons lower than he thought was proper for churchwear, but then, what did he know? He hadn't been to a church regularly since he was a child.

"Ah, well... " he started, but Arthur broke in before he could think of a reason to decline.

"Excuse me, Ma'am," Arthur stated firmly. "But Father Michael needs to prepare for the mass in half an hour."

"Oh! Of course," she said, not taking her eyes off of Eames. "I'll get out of your way, but perhaps if we could talk after your sermon...?"

"Of course, my Daughter, feel free to speak with me afterwards," Eames said, knowing they would be well on their way and out of the dream before that happened. He crossed himself once and nodded to the woman solemnly.

She smiled again at him, turned, and walked off, looking back him once and giving him a little wave.

"Huh. Did we miss out on the mark having a religious fetish or something?" puzzled Eames, watching her stroll towards a nearby pew.

Eames looked around the cathedral once again. More and more projections were coming into the hallway. Most sat down at pews, but all seemed to be keeping an eye on the two of them.

Arthur frowned, uneasily.

"I don't like this atmosphere. Something feels... off. And where did Cobb get to?" He glanced around,
and another group of projections entered through the doors.

Suddenly, Arthur swept Eames to the side, gun out. 
"Eames. Something's wrong."

Eames looked at Arthur, confused, until Cobb appeared at Eames other side, excitedly. From the direction he'd entered, Eames began to hear a commotion - were those church bells ringing?

"I've got it!" announced Cobb, waiving a sheet of paper in Eames' face.

The forger and pointman stared at him, in shock. Arthur recovered first.

"Cobb - where have you been? What were you thinking, barging forward on your own? That wasn't the plan!" Arthur shouted, anger and worry flashing in his eyes.

"I saw the opportunity, and I took it," Cobb scoffed, and brushed Arthur aside. He turned to Eames, a wild look in his eyes.

"Eames, look, it turned out fine, I got all the information we needed!"

Confused, Eames said slowly, "Well... yes, but I don't see the point of bringing me in on the job if you weren't going to let me do my work."

Cobb stilled, looking suddenly abashed, then rallied. "Don't worry about that, it's always better to have you. And look! We're done so much sooner now, we can just... explore this place. See what we can build, together!"

With a grand gesture, Cobb indicated to their surroundings, and the beautiful stonework, spires, and stained glass of Ariadne's design shifted, becoming instead a complex maze of marble pillars.

"What the hell are you doing? You'll bring every projection in this place down on us!" yelled Arthur.

Cobb ignored him, advancing on Eames, grabbing at his arm, still speaking rapidly.
"Come with me, Eames! Let's push the limits of imagination!"

But Arthur was right. Projections had taken notice and were heading towards them, fast. But instead of converging on the three of them, they shoved Arthur and Cobb aside, focused purely on Eames. Or rather... his clothing? Eames clutched his priests robes to himself and tried to free himself from the hoard of rather handsy projections.

"Oh, for..." Arthur snatched his gun from his side and started shooting projections, clearing enough room to grab Eames arm, trying to pull him from the grasps of the remaining projections. Cobb scrambled to his feet and clung to the other arm, keeping them trapped in the mob, until finally Arthur bashed his hand with the butt of his gun, yelling "Cobb, what the fuck? Get out of here!"

But Cobb clung to Eames closer still, until Arthur gave up and shot the extractor through the head. His body collapsed, releasing Eames, and the pair took off running. Eames dropped his forge as they ran - the body of the priest was old and slow, and right now he needed speed. The mob followed closely at their heels.

Chapter Text

As they fled out of the cathedral, they saw Ariadne and Yusuf talking quietly at the foot of the steps. They looked up, startled, as the pair sprinted past. Arthur yelled "Scatter!" at them as the doors burst open behind them, projections pouring out in huge numbers.

They did not scatter.

"Eames! Eames! Tell me you're all right!" cried out Ariadne, dashing towards the man in question. Yusuf was elbowing his way through the crowd of projections desperately, finally breaking free and running towards them.

"I'm fine!" yelled Eames, "just keep running!"

Ariadne and Yusuf started sprinting, following the forger and point man as they fled from the mob.

"Have you two lost your minds? Stop following us and get yourselves out of here!" shouted Arthur.

The architect and chemist ignored him.

"I won't leave you!" cried Yusuf, and increased his speed to match Eames' stride. Ariadne was trailing behind, still a few steps in front of the projections.

Eames, Arthur, and Yusuf rounded a corner. It was a dead end.

Yusuf looked between Eames and the sound of the oncoming projections, squared his shoulders, and said, "They can't have you. I'll hold them off as long as I can, but first...."

Yusuf flung his arms around Eames, clearly attempting to sweep the incredulous forger into his arms, and moved in for a kiss. Eames was too stunned to move, and Arthur looked just as startled. Eames made a mental note to himself that things must be crazy if Arthur - ARTHUR - didn't know how to react. Eames came back to himself just in time to twist his face away from Yusuf's attempted wooing when there was a piercing scream. Ariadne, who had just rounded the corner, launched herself at the chemist, knocking him away from Eames.

"MINE!!!" she shrieked. "MINE MINE MINEMINEMINE!!!!!"

And the two were locked in combat.

Eames stared at them, stunned, until he felt a hand on his arm. He turned and looked into Arthur's serious brown eyes.

Arthur said evenly, "I don't know what's going on, but we need to keep moving. I'll give you a boost up onto the wall, then you can help me up and we'll figure out what to do next."

Eames nodded. Once they had scrambled up and over and into the alleyway on the other side of the wall, the two stopped for breath and looked at each other.

"Arthur - do you know what's going on? Why do the projections... why has EVERYBODY gone mad and started coming at me?"

Arthur shook his head.

"I don't know. I should have known something was off early on when Cobb left without telling us why."

Eames said nothing. That hadn't seemed odd at all to him. Whatever Arthur thought of his business partner, Cobb's unreliability was never any surprise to Eames.

"But whatever he was thinking," Arthur continued, "Cobb got the information. It should be fairly safe just to shoot ourselves out of here."

Eames nodded and dreamt up a gun in response, handing it to Arthur.

"If you don't mind me going first, I really want to get out of this bloody place."

Arthur raised the gun to Eames forehead calmly.

"Not going to ask me for my last words?" smiled Eames.

The corner of Arthur's mouth twitched upward. "You talk enough already, Mr. Eames. Why would I inflict more upon myself?"

Eames laughter was cut off suddenly as he glanced behind Arthur and saw the mob of projections appear at the end of the alley.

"Oh hell, not more of them!"

Arthur froze, wheeled about, and started shooting at the projections, but it was too late. The projections fell upon the pair and pulled them apart. As they closed in, they started pawing at Eames, groping at his clothing. They clearly weren't looking to kill the forger, but they were doing so nonetheless.

Eames saw Arthur break free for just a moment, aim the gun at him, and pull the trigger, just as another projection tackled him from the side.

Chapter Text

Eames blinked awake.

He found the rest of the team already awake and staring at him, looking utterly abashed.

A few moments later, Arthur jerked awake as well, rubbing at his neck unconsciously. Eames winced internally, suspecting that Arthur's death had not been nearly as quick as his own. He shook himself as Arthur angrily turned to the chemist.

"Yusuf - what the hell was that compound? I thought you tested it?" Arthur demanded.

"I... I only tested it on individuals - no one seemed to have a bad reaction. It... appears to have a different effect on the dreamer as it does on others who enter the dream..."

"Oh, do you think? What gave it away?" Eames said sarcastically. "Was there some subtle clue in the mark's bloodwork? Or was it the fact that I was nearly assaulted by my OWN DAMN TEAM."

"Ah... right," murmured Yusuf, looking closely at their monitors and avoiding Eames' eyes. "I think I'll have to do some more tests, but what seems to have happened is that the mixture had an aphrodisiacal effect on all of the non-dreamers, focused on the dreaming target. I myself found that -" he broke off, coughed, and then continued. "Clearly, the effects clearly compounded the longer we were in the dream." He brightened. "It only seems to affect the dream state, but even if that's the case, it has some fascinating implications for-"

Eames cut him off. "What, like a love potion?" he said incredulously.

"Well, simplistically, yes, but really, the chemistry behind it is quite incredible!" continued Yusuf brightly.

Arthur put his hands to his head like he was starting to get a migraine.
"Right. OK. We'll talk about this more later, but for now we have to finish this job. Cobb, you got the information at least, right? Or were you just ~trying to impress Eames~ with that," he finished sarcastically.

Cobb, who had been sitting silently and staring at his totem, straightened up.
"No, no, I got the off-shore bank account number he's put everything in, and all the passcode information."

"Great. Give that here, and once it's confirmed I'll send the information to our employer. The rest of you, finish the job and deal with HIM," he said, indicating to the still-sleeping businessman.

With that, the team went into motion, most of them assiduously avoiding looking at Eames.

Much later, once the room had been mostly cleared, Eames lingered behind, where Arthur was still typing furiously on his laptop.

"Well, THAT was an experience," started Eames, sitting down in a chair across the table from Arthur.

"Hm," Arthur grunted, still staring at the screen in front of him, typing rapidly.

"I suppose I should be flattered, everyone falling for me like that," continued Eames,
"Or at least be glad it was me who was the dreamer. I can't imagine being forced to fall for Cobb, can you?"

A brief grimace flickered on Arthur's face, and Eames smiled, pleased to have gotten a reaction from the distracted point man. He continued, "And of course, I never thought I'd see the day that you would..." Eames trailed off. Then he frowned. He thought back through the events earlier, and realized...

"It didn't affect you at all." Eames said slowly.

"Sorry, what?" asked Arthur, glancing up from his computer.

"The Somnacin mixture. The so-called love potion. It didn't affect you at all. Everyone fell in love with me. Except you."

An odd look passed over Arthur's face briefly, before he regained his usual smooth expression of condescension.

"Do you really need to be the center of attention that much, Mr. Eames?" Arthur said, sounding amused.

Eames shook his head, trying to clear it. Arthur hadn't done anything unusual in the dream at all. He was his normal, clearheaded, professional self. Eames had always imagined what it would be like when... if Arthur ever fell for him, like he'd fallen for Arthur so long ago. He had imagined breaking down that cool exterior, earning looks of adoration. Laughter and teasing, of course, but also smiles and light kisses to his hand. But apparently... not. This had been his chance to see how Arthur would look at him in love, but clearly, being in love with Eames was so alien to Arthur that not even chemicals could make a dent in his heart.

"Eames?" questioned Arthur, after a long pause. "Is something wrong?"

"Nothing," Eames muttered, still thinking. His hand moved to his pocket, feeling the envelope with the tickets he'd purchased two weeks ago. His fist clenched around it, crumpling the paper inside.

"I can tell when you're lying, Eames." Arthur said.

Eames said nothing.

"EAMES."

Eames stood up. "Right. OK. I see then. That answers that."

"You aren't making any sense, Eames," Arthur sounded a bit worried now. But at that slight show of emotion, Eames couldn't hold his tongue anymore. His words sliced through the air, cold and biting.

"No, I suppose I never do, do I?"

"What?" Arthur said, looking taken aback.

"My work is never good enough for your impossibly high standards. You can always see right through me."

Arthur drew his brow up, puzzled. "What are you talking about? Your forge today was fine."

"You know," Eames continued, "I always held out hope that, beneath that hard, prickly exterior, there might - just MIGHT - be a bit of warm feeling for me? But clearly that was too much to hope. Apparently not even a love potion can get underneath your thick skin. I guess now I know you really ARE as heartless as they say."

Arthur's eyebrows shot up, startled, then his face grew cold.

"If that's how you feel, Mr. Eames, then I suppose I'll be going," he shot out, and stood up, closing his computer abruptly and picking it up. He stalked out of the room, the door slamming behind him.

Eames stood in the empty, echoing room. It was better to know for sure and move on, he told himself. Really. It was.

Chapter Text

Ariadne found Eames in the bar of the hotel they'd made their HQ. The same bar, in fact, where he'd planned to bring Arthur in high spirits. He downed another shot of whisky in one go as she sat down beside him.

"A LOVE potion" she exclaimed, "Can you believe it? I barely got away from Yusuf's chemistry babble, he was so excited."

Eames uttered a discouraging grunt in response as she settled in besides him. She glanced at him, worried.

"Eames? Is everything alright?"

"I'm fine," he muttered.

"Eames. You don't fool me. What's wrong?" Ariadne pressed. "Is this about before? I'm... I'm REALLY sorry about how I acted, Eames, I was so embarrassed!"

"What? Oh. That wasn't your fault, Ariadne, you were fine. You know I don't mind a bit of flirtation here and there."

"No, that's true," she agreed with a smile.

"Anyway, YOU weren't the one I was - " he broke off. "Never mind."

"Oh, REEEEALLY..." she smirked, "OK, you have to tell me. I just have to know. Cobb. I never saw him, he must of been completely off the wall for you and Arthur to leave him behind like that - he woke up first of all of us! What did he do?" She leaned forwards eagerly. "You can tell me - I know, I've seen his subconscious, he's obsessive when he's in love."

"Cobb? No, no, he was... well, no, not fine, I'm never going to get that sight out of my dreams and NOT in a good way." He shuddered. "But nothing beyond the pale. Arthur shot him before he got too out of hand."

"Ah." She stilled. "So, I saw Yusuf, he was basically with me the whole time, which leaves... Arthur. Did something happen after Yusuf and I, um... after you left us?"

"NO!" he burst out. "God, I almost wish it had, but he was completely unchanged, like it had no affect on him! He didn't do a goddamn thing any differently, was just his usual professional self, like the heartless, loveless sonofabitch he is. He didn't even CARE."

He stopped, panting slightly after this outburst, and downed the new shot of whisky that had somehow appeared before him while he had been distracted by Ariadne. He supposed the bartender must have figured out the drill by now. He stared at the empty glass and wondered vaguely how many he'd had. And, more importantly, how many more he'd need to lapse into blissful unconsciousness.

"...Oh, Eames."

He glanced up. Ariadne was gazing at him with a look of most obvious pity.

"Eames. Do you really think Yusuf managed to make a love potion which effected everyone except Arthur?"

Apparently," he huffed. "I don't see any other explanation."

"Eames. Everyone who fell in love with you showed it differently, to start, didn't they?" she prompted.

Eames thought back. Yes, before the effects had compounded, Ariadne had suddenly gotten bashful, Dom had attempted to impress him with wild gestures, and Yusuf had started flirting openly.

"Yes, fine." He said bitterly. "What's your point?"

"My point is, Eames, that Arthur's behavior when in love with you doesn't seem to differ at all from how he acts otherwise. That doesn't tell you anything? Anything at all?"

"It tells me he's a heartless bastard, that's what it tells me."

"And...I take it you told him this?" she said incredulously.

"So what if I did?" he said defensively. "He knows how dreamshare sees him, it's never bothered him before."

"Eames," she sighed, "Are you really that blind?"

Eames looked at her blankly.

"Apparently so," she continued. "Eames, you owe him at very least an apology. Despite all the chaos, he kept the dream together and made sure we finished the job. It's why he's the best at what he does. Just... go talk to him, OK? He doesn't deserve you just lashing out at him because your feelings were bruised."

Eames stared at his drink. He didn't want to talk to Arthur. He didn't want to do anything. He wanted to keep drinking whisky until he blacked out and never remembered anything about this job ever again. But, Ariadne was right about one thing. Arthur hadn't deserved a hissy-fit just because Eames' hopes were unrealized. He couldn't exactly say that the man had led him on, surely. That, he thought morosely, would require Arthur being in any way aware of the existence of feelings.

He stood, suddenly, staggering in the attempt.

"Fine," he... slurred, he feared. "I'll talk to him."

Ariadne looked him over, slightly alarmed, and grabbed his arm to steady him as he swayed.

"Well, I'm glad to hear it..." she stated slowly, "but let's keep you here for just a little bit longer, and get you some water."

Eames collapsed back onto his barstool in agreement.

Chapter Text

Two hours later, Eames found himself outside of Arthur's hotel room. Ariadne hadn't let him leave until he was not only able to stand by himself, but until he was practically sober.

He braced himself slightly and knocked on the door.

A minute passed. Eames was about to turn and flee when the door finally opened.

There Arthur stood, still wearing his suit pants, but down to his undershirt, hair slightly disheveled. Eames was so distracted by this edible sight that he forgot his opening line and simply gawped for a moment.

Arthur looked at him, stony faced. "Mr. Eames. May I help you?"

Eames finally remembered himself and took a deep breath.

"Arthur. I owe you an apology. You are the best point man in the business for a reason, and I shouldn't have insulted your ability to stay professional on the job. "

Arthur continued to look at him, face still. Finally he spoke. "Ariadne got to you, did she?" he queried dryly.

Eames chuckled, despite himself. "Well, the girl is a natural peacemaker - which helps to make up for the fact that she's a natural snoop as well."

He drew another breath and continued, more seriously. "But she was right, I shouldn't have snapped at you just because I'd had a bad job of it. By way of an apology," he continued, "I thought I'd throw a little something your way. You could probably use some vacation time, so, here."

He held out one of the two airline tickets - the one he'd bought for Arthur, sans his own. He'd thought hard about this part, and had decided that something more was needed if he wanted to regain something close to friendly relations with Arthur ever again. It wasn't as if he wanted to go alone. And Arthur would probably enjoy it better without him, he sighed to himself.

Arthur took the ticket automatically, said "Really, Eames, it's not necessary," then glanced down at what he was holding. His forehead wrinkled slightly.

"Lisbon," he said blankly, "I've been wanting to-" he broke off and looked back up at Eames. "This says it was purchased two weeks ago. Just before the job started."

Eames cursed himself slightly for keeping the original printout with the purchasing date. Of course Arthur would notice something like that. He fumbled for words, only managing to mumble something indistinct.

There was a long pause. Arthur looked contemplative, then asked slowly, "You wouldn't have happened to have purchased another ticket going this way?" He waved the paper vaguely in the air.

"Err, well..." Eames stumbled, still unsure how to cover himself on this one.

"I thought so. Hm." Arthur gave him a long, appraising look. Just as Eames began to try to piece together an excuse to go, Arthur said, "Why don't you come in a bit, Eames. We should chat."

Arthur turned and walked into his room. Eames, not knowing what else to do, followed, shutting the door behind him. Arthur sat himself in one of the two chairs by the window, gesturing Eames to sit down across from him. Arthur leaned forwards, hands tented under his chin.

"You know," the pointman said, almost conversationally. "One of the complaints you made about me was rather unfair."

Eames winced. "I'm sorry. I know. You deliberately build your 'iceman' reputation, I shouldn't have-"

Arthur cut him off. "No, not that one."

Eames thought back, blankly, to his much regretted words from before.

"The one about always seeing through you," Arthur continued.

"What?" said Eames, startled. He hadn't been sure where this conversation was going to go, but his forging ability hadn't even crossed his mind as a possibility. That had been the least of his issues, really. "But you do! I've never seen you caught out by one of my forges, and believe me, I've tried! I've never been able to figure out how you do it - you see through me every time."

"Not every time," Arthur said, shaking his head.

"When have I ever caught you out on one?" Eames asked skeptically.

"The first time."

"No," Eames said, "You recognized me as a ringer right off, before Cobb even introduced us."

Arthur shook his head and leaned back. "That's true. But that wasn't the first time I saw you forge."

"Don't tell me we worked another job before that one - I'm sure I would have remembered that."

"You wouldn't remember it. I wasn't pointman at the time, or even in the business. I was just a kid who'd signed up for a demo-program for new tech in the military. We'd done some simple test runs to get the basics of dream building down, and they had some hot-shot Brit come in to show us how it was done."

Eames remembered - not seeing Arthur, but the program to which he was referring. He'd done a number of demonstrations for new recruits for the dream program, back before going 'professional', when this whole thing was a tool of the military. He'd show off all his abilities, the full repertoire, for groups of 15-20 dreamers at a time. He'd never bothered to focus on the crowd - back then he'd needed all his concentration to pull things off.

"You were incredible, in fact. I'd never seen anything like it. It made me want to dream again more than anything else in the world. Later, when I started making my own way in the business, I made a point to learn all about forgery, and as much as I could about you. You made quite the impression on me. I was never good at forging myself, understand, but I tried to learn as much as I could about it. I couldn't do what you did, but I wanted to be as good as you. So I became the best at what I do."

"That still doesn't explain how..." Eames tried to interject.

Arthur continued, without pause "And to be frank, every forger we worked with up until you paled in comparison to what I had seen years prior. When Cobb introduced us, I knew it was you, because it was too good a forge to be anyone else's."

Eames wrinkled his brow, working his way through this new information.

"So, my giveaway is that my forges are too good?"

"Don't let it go to your head, Mr. Eames," Arthur smiled. Eames smiled back, unable to resist, as he pondered this. He considered the other thing he wondered most about - so utterly unique about Arthur. Apparently the pointman was in an astonishingly explanatory mood, so he may as well ask.

"You never treat me differently, though." Eames said. "I've never met anyone else who does that, treats me the same whatever face I happen to be wearing. People usually can't help reacting differently to different faces, even when they know who is underneath."

Arthur tilted his head. "You said before I always see through you. Why do you think that is?"

Eames shook his head in puzzlement.

Arthur sighed and leaned forwards in his chair. "Because... beneath the myriad of masks you love to put on... I see you. The joy you find in forging, the mischief of running a con, the thrill of a merry chase. I always see you, Eames. Just you. You always shine through. One look was all it took, Mr. Eames. And I was hooked."

"Oh."

"Yes, oh."

Eames back forward in his chair, the light beginning to dawn. His earlier conversation with Ariadne drifted through his mind. People show that they're in love differently, he thought hazily... and Arthur acts the same as he always has. Which means....

He leaned forward, decisively.

"Darling! Would you like to go to Lisbon with me?"

"I thought you'd never ask," said Arthur, and kissed him.