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.