The Ocean at Night is Darker Than the Highway, by Fermine (PG-13)

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Title: The Ocean at Night is Darker Than the Highway
Fandom: Inception
Pairing: Robert/Eames
Length: 3,547
Author on LJ: fermine
Author Website: masterlist of fics on author's journal
Why this must be read: The author says this is crack, but that's doing a disservice to this fic, which, while it's definitely in a cracktastic setting, and definitely romantic, is a fun and deft exploration of their characters. I love Robert's spoiled brattiness and how it feels real without making him any less endearing, as much as I love Eames' swarthy sexuality, his inability to keep from flirting and coddling Robert and falling in love.

The night is colder than Robert expects, the wind howling in from the North. Or East. He’s lost all sense of direction, jaws knocking together as he struggles to chase the feeble warmth of his own body heat, digging his nose into his arm. He looks longingly at the warm fire burning brightly in Eames’ side of the island, Eames’ back illuminated by the harsh moon, bare and coated with sweat. He knows he shouldn’t be staring but he’s been doing it the entire afternoon.

Eames rolls onto his back and looks at him, eyebrows raised in the dark. There’s barely ten feet of grass and beach separating them but to Robert the distance is insurmountable.

“Are you cold, Mr. Fischer?” Eames asks, voice taking on a high, mocking lilt. Robert doesn’t answer and instead stares out into the sea where the waves roll and lick at the shore. He sniffs, resting his cheek on his elbow. He’s tired, sore, and all he wants is to go back home to his SoHo apartment and crawl under the bedsheets. Robert sneezes, twice, and rubs miserably at the tip of his nose, wrapping his arms around his knees and ignoring the knocking of his teeth.

It’s Eames who finally walks over to his side, tugging him by the wrist and practically dragging him across the sand towards the fire. “You shouldn’t act like a child, Fischer. If you want to survive the wilderness we have to work as a team.”

“I don’t want to be in your team.”

“There are no other teams left. You’ll have to make do with me.” Eames pushes Robert’s hair from his face, sticky with sweat and gritty with sand. “There’s no one else here, just me,” he says softly, and smiles, ineffectual, before pushing Robert down onto the leaves.

The Ocean at Night is Darker Than the Highway