angelgazing (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
angelgazing) wrote2010-10-29 11:23 pm
angelgazing) wrote2010-10-29 11:23 pm
this is more disturbing than getting earwormed by the Pussy Cat Dolls (boys call me sexy)
A List of the Arthur/Eames Things I Am Planning To/Need To/ Have Begun To Write:
THE SAD PART IS, I'M PRETTY SURE I'M FORGETTING SOMETHING. D:
ETA: Have 300 words of a thing that didn't turn out the way it was supposed to!
When they met, in a dingy hotel room just outside of Birmingham, Eames was wearing jeans that were worn thin at the knees, a white tank top that was at least a full size too small and torn in three places, a pair of mismatched flip-flops and a smirk.
It was the middle of August, and Arthur, who had just driven thirteen hours straight through after his not so honorable discharge, was still wearing his service uniform.
Eames stretched out on the bed, with one knee raised. He patted the space beside him with one hand, while holding a burning cigarette and scratching his stomach absently with the other. Arthur can't deny that he swayed on his feet, but he'll go to his grave swearing it was all due to exhaustion.
Miles looked from one of them to the other with a raised eyebrow and his mouth quirked. His jacket had honest to god patches at the elbow, like all the very best professor clichés. He clicked open a PASIV case and clicked his tongue. "This is certainly going to be interesting, isn't it?" he said, looking at Arthur but nodding toward the bed. "Might as well get started."
Eames stretched, his back arching just slightly, and his grin never flagging. His hair was messy, his eyes were heavy, and Arthur had never in his life wanted anything more than he wanted to climb onto that bed.
He took off his hat, and tossed it on top of a stack of white Styrofoam takeout containers that were overflowing from the trash. He followed it, wordlessly, with his coat. He jumped, when Eames' fingers, callused in all the same ways as Arthur's, wrapped around his wrist.
In every meeting after that, they ended up in that position. One way or another.
-
The Ferris Wheel fic ( In progress ) - Ballroom AU ( In progress )
- Werewolf!Arthur ( ...Sorry! Outlined? )
- Sexpollen! ( Outlined. If you find my Shame please return it. )
- Hair pulling fic! ( In progress )
- 5 Places on Arthur that Eames Most Likes to Kiss (w/ art by
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
aredblush) ( 1/5th completed. ) - 5 Kissing Cliches
- Tattoo Parlor AU
- Accidentally Married!
- Dog Walker!Arthur
- You've Got Mail sort of AU thing
- AMNESIC PLATONIC-BED SHARING FAKE BOYFRIENDS IN LOVE
- The one where Arthur joined the military to rebel against his ultra liberal hippie parents
- AU where the Inception team are wedding planners
- I Speak Fluent Tequila and Passable Love ( with gyzym )
- Undercover Investigative Report Eames and Political Campaign Manager Arthur
- Inception Circus
- Sullen!Teen!Arthur
- Cupid!Arthur
- The Hacker AU titled Love Bytes ( oh puns, I wish I knew how to quit you )
- Crime Reporter Arthur and an Eames who keeps committing petty crimes to get Arthur's attention.
- The AU where Eames woos Arthur via crossword puzzle
- Daddy!Eames and Teacher!Arthur! ( in cardigans )
- Psych AU where Eames is Shawn, Yusuf is Gus, Ariadne is Juliet, and Arthur is Lassiter.
- Arthur comes to in the middle of an obsession with Eames' hands.
( In no particular order )
THE SAD PART IS, I'M PRETTY SURE I'M FORGETTING SOMETHING. D:
ETA: Have 300 words of a thing that didn't turn out the way it was supposed to!
When they met, in a dingy hotel room just outside of Birmingham, Eames was wearing jeans that were worn thin at the knees, a white tank top that was at least a full size too small and torn in three places, a pair of mismatched flip-flops and a smirk.
It was the middle of August, and Arthur, who had just driven thirteen hours straight through after his not so honorable discharge, was still wearing his service uniform.
Eames stretched out on the bed, with one knee raised. He patted the space beside him with one hand, while holding a burning cigarette and scratching his stomach absently with the other. Arthur can't deny that he swayed on his feet, but he'll go to his grave swearing it was all due to exhaustion.
Miles looked from one of them to the other with a raised eyebrow and his mouth quirked. His jacket had honest to god patches at the elbow, like all the very best professor clichés. He clicked open a PASIV case and clicked his tongue. "This is certainly going to be interesting, isn't it?" he said, looking at Arthur but nodding toward the bed. "Might as well get started."
Eames stretched, his back arching just slightly, and his grin never flagging. His hair was messy, his eyes were heavy, and Arthur had never in his life wanted anything more than he wanted to climb onto that bed.
He took off his hat, and tossed it on top of a stack of white Styrofoam takeout containers that were overflowing from the trash. He followed it, wordlessly, with his coat. He jumped, when Eames' fingers, callused in all the same ways as Arthur's, wrapped around his wrist.
In every meeting after that, they ended up in that position. One way or another.