small town heroes, big time crooks, by paxlux (R)

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Fandom: INCEPTION
Title: small town heroes, big time crooks
Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Length: 7,791
Author on LJ: paxlux (bashfulbetty)
Author Website: masterlist of fics on author's journal
Why this must be read: In this non-dreamshare-based AU, Eames is a high-class international spy, and Arthur is the badass freelance assassin he teams up with. Together, they are terrifying and efficient sociopathic killing machines.

Naturally, they fall completely in love.

If that's not enough all by itself to convince you to read this fic, there's the fact that Paxlux manages to achieve a dizzying amount of sap in between the high body count. The writing is as streamlined as the heists they pull--alternately smooth and rough, always joyously executed. I'd quote every line if I could. <3

Their third op is a spectacular success: Eames gets what he came for, laughing as he leaves a pile of porn pictures where the dossiers used to be; Arthur winds up out by the edge of the woods, wielding a knife in each hand as he dispatches a few ex-Marines hired as security for the party. They’re wandering the very outskirts of the party, like prowling hungry wolves, staying out of sight, until Arthur finds them.

He’s covered in mud from hand-to-hand combat and blood has sprayed all over him. Fighting men who are trained to kill like he is makes for chaotic combat sometimes and he’s alive at the end of it, he might have a few broken ribs, but he finds Eames at the end of the patio, smoking and sipping champagne.

The threat of rain has pushed all the glittering guests indoors except for a couple Eames is watching through his smoke, a man and a woman kissing slowly until Eames clears his throat and they startle, the woman laughing, the man tugging on her hand to go inside.

Arthur steals Eames’s champagne glass and Eames says, “Darling, you need a shower.”

The champagne is dry and bubbly and it goes to Arthur’s head with the feeling of success and he laughs, smiling at Eames, wondering at the look in the spy’s blue eyes as he’d watched the lovers on the patio. Then Eames leans over the railing and kisses Arthur, mud and blood and sweat, brief, a press of mouths together.

“What was that for?” Arthur asks, his adrenaline shooting higher and Eames shrugs with a smirk.

“For your broken ribs.”

It’s a singular occurrence, but Arthur doesn’t forget it. Ever.

-

He doesn’t call Arthur ‘little assassin’ after that because Arthur is twice the man he is and Eames is suddenly afraid he’ll somehow push Arthur away. And that is not an option.-

small town heroes, big time crooks