Title: Scarlet Fandom: Inception Couple: Arthur / Eames
Notes: another case where I had to write something else, but I sat for a drabble and ended up with ... well, this. | Post-Movie Universe where Eames and Arthur are team \\ o / | It's funny that if you ask me, this is waff. IDK MY BRAIN IS STRANGER, OK?
Warnings: Without Beta (aka: Seeking beta) / written between 4am and 6am. Gunplay is not porn. Involved violence.
Rating: R for gore .
Words: 1120.
Push a little gun against his face. Eames moans, softly, with something closer to relief. CH
TMLXC
Arthur boasts quick thinking, quick planning,
act fast. Maybe too much. Eames pushing into a corner, behind a box, with more speed than gentleness. Eames stared at the stump of flesh where a few hours ago was his hand. Arthur crouches beside him, holding arches. So much blood. - Eames - Eames and looks at him, eyes too open, skin covered with sweat -. Godfrey. Did you find it? Eames
closes his eyes and shudders. Arthur raises his gun and goes the other hand over his own face, forcing himself not to avoid the hearing. Eames opens and closes the mouth several times before they speak.
- Godfrey ... Hijodeputa
- Eames moans. It has a trail of blood in what remains of his left ear. Arthur is concentrated in their eyes, dilated pupils, color barely visible, but still awake, still fixed. Frankly admirable, with the amount of blood lost -. The main street, the house ... your sister, second floor, cellar, door ... white door ... - Shh - you find yourself interrupting, but Eames pants the last two words and shakes, coughs. Bleeds. Arthur bends and supports gun against his temple -. Shhh. Eames
grab his wrist, weakly. Arthur was not startled, not at least until he recognizes his abdomen loading weight: guilt, shame, anger
. Push a little barrelface work. Eames moans, softly, with something closer to relief. - yet, no, just ... - Babble. Arthur never heard this and would rather not do it again. Lower the barrel to his cheek. It is a caress. Oh, Christ, definitely not ... Eames
moans pathetically and rubs his face against the metal.
Christ.
- We have all day - trying, but can not be sharp, not when Eames has to be
delirious with pain. Eames cough and a smile dirty pink. Arthur
slowly moves the gun between his eyes and when Eames finally closed, pull the trigger.
stands up, takes off his jacket and wipes his hands on it. Cleanhis watch, punctuating a sentence on paper with a bang - ten minutes to go.
- Have you got everything? - Eames leans beside him, studying the role with care.
The space under his chin is clean, with something less than that in the dream beard. Arthur tilts his head, pretending to stretch. Nods, frowning into the figures. It was not too difficult, at the end. The house had several watches and one of them was different from the rest, a plastic and cheap reproduction of an old model, a kitchen timer. When it broke, found a paper with the actual results of company accounts for its contractor. Easy.
She did not even reach the second floor into the cellar after the pORT white.
Open and clench their fists, frowns.
- Good work - says, finally getting up. Eames has already turned the other chair, the folders are in order and Arthur rolls his own line and close the case of liabilities. Eames puts a hand on her back. Arthur turns his head and raises his eyebrows.
- Good enough to celebrate with a drink?
Eames made the same offer every day since they started working together. The best part of each of those days has been sent to hell. Arthur
LIABILITIES closed and tries to ignore the hand of Eames, almost on his shoulder. It's the same hand that threw the grenade Eames too late, huge asshole. CHTM
LXC - One shot - Arthur repeated without inflection, but apparently enough for Eames rest your head on your neck.
- A drink, some food, maybe a coffee. What?
Arthur looks up. We have eight minutes, before one of the guards made their rounds. Eames is removed with a push.
- Why not? - Answer, finally, because of some type of brain lapses.
Refused Eames turned to look at while folding chair.
-
I have excellent reasons
sky. A list, extensive, detailed.
- And I have a gun in his belt, in case you forgot.
- That is, in fact, sky, reason number five.
Arthur rises, the chair under one arm and briefcase in hand, staring resolutely at the door of escape.
- Your shirt is wicked horrible - say, for no particular reason. Walk towards the exit with his eyes fixed.
- Your interest in me to remove my post is what I have always appreciated, Arthur, dear - Eames replied, with a fun too soft to be irritating. It is, frankly, confused, more than anything else.
They stop at the door and finally Arthur looks at him. It has everything in place, of course, and is slightly better shave than usual. He smiles a tired, but no one imagine that you just hold hands intestines. You must Condec.
- We see
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