the little enough damage I do to you, by two_if_by_sea (R)

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Fandom: INCEPTION
Title: the little enough damage I do to you
Pairing: Saito/Arthur, Arthur/OC, past Arthur/Ariadne, hints of messy non-Arthur/Eames
Length: 4,162
Author on LJ: two_if_by_sea
Author Website: masterlist of fics on author's journal
Why this must be read: This is the final of 3 fics written as a sort of spontaneous back-and-forth between two_if_by_sea and weatherfront, who both rank among the most talented writers I know across all my fandoms. The three fics together give us an Arthur who lets himself get caught up in a dysfunctional power play of sex and codependency as Saito's kept man and "personal assistant." It's just as hot and awful and hurtful and brilliant and devastating as you might expect anything that pits these two against-and-with each other to be, and this, the finale of the trio of fics, is the tour de force.

two_if_by_sea's writing is the literary equivalent of a knife under your ribs. It's one long flawless cut, and you don't realize how badly you're wounded until you reach the end of the fic and discover you've bled out. Her Arthur is a confused defiant mess, and his need for Saito is perfectly balanced against his need to run from Saito and his ruthless control over Arthur's life. This fic is a study in beautiful chaos and the desire for your own destruction.

In the spring, Saito asks Arthur for two things.

The first is to arrange the Proclus Global HQ's hanami. It is something Saito usually leaves to the secretarial division ("The secret caporegimes of your Tokyo Cosa Nostra, you mean," Arthur says with a laugh), but this year, Arthur knows, it's even less of a flower viewing than usual. This year, it's a test for Arthur.

So Arthur rents out a mountain and actually builds streams into the sakura clearing, so that when the petals fall they float like thousands of boats, searching aimlessly for the foot of the mountain. He lays a branch at the seat of every employee, made of paper and wire so cleverly put together that it takes the revelers ages to realize they unravel into ancient poetry written by centuries of hanami attendants. He orders bento boxes that each feature a perfect crystalline sugar flower in the center, nestled against sea bream and toro sashimi carved to mimic the petals, and chilled tofu perfectly pressed with a pickled blossom. He serves sakuramochi in bowls carved out of ice and dotted with sakura frozen into the water. "To symbolize impermanence," he says, laughing, and then pours more sake without looking at Saito, and after everyone leaves that evening Saito orders the driver to take them to the Proclus gardens, where he fucks Arthur ruthlessly, Arthur's hands trembling, white and ephemeral, against the black bark of Saito's shoulder.

The second thing is to come to his house to celebrate his wife's 45th birthday. "As my personal assistant," Saito says, drawing a possessive hand over the lapels of Arthur's suit, leaning in, heavy with the smell of Acqua di Parma Colonia and his cigarette break.

After a pause, Arthur asks, "Does your wife even know my name?"

"You know hers," Saito says and kisses him, hard enough to be almost brutal.

the little enough damage I do to you