here's to the end of our sanity

[bookshop.livejournal.com]

Fandom: INCEPTION
Title: here's to the end of our sanity - PG-13
Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Length: 7,719
Author on LJ: dearprose
Author Website: masterlist on author's LJ
Why this must be read: you wouldn't think that a fic about Arthur opening up to Eames about his serious OCD would make for compelling drama, but this is wonderfully written and tense and IC. oh, my heart.

When he walks by to open the door, Eames moves quickly. They scuffle a little with Eames trying to lock Arthur’s arms in place and Arthur trying to twist free of Eames’s hold. If Arthur wasn’t a little drunk and a lot unhinged, Eames would’ve been fighting a losing battle. Instead, he succeeds in pinning Arthur to the nearest wall, right hand holding Arthur’s wrists together, left forearm digging into Arthur’s back.

Arthur’s as tense as a high wire but he stops struggling, and Eames can’t say he isn’t a little high off the power. The heat of Arthur’s body is intoxicating as he leans in, and suddenly there’s lust to go along with the adrenaline, traveling through his blood like a heroin injection without the risks. He shifts one more inch so their thighs are pressed together and Arthur makes a small, ruined sound in the back of his throat. Eames swallows, nearly dizzy with the effort to keep from rocking his hips and latching his mouth onto the vulnerable curve of Arthur’s neck.

“I’m going to let go now and trust that you’ll stay put, darling.” He’s used the endearment before but never like this, never murmured against the shell of Arthur’s ear in request for his willing submission. Arthur shivers a little beneath him and then nods.

Eames loosens his grip and takes one step back as Arthur turns around and slumps against the wall. His eyes manage to beseech and accuse all at once, with a misery that seeks to topple Eames and bury them both. Somewhere along the way, Eames went from hero to villain, and, while he’s always been cavalier about the distinction, he finds that he can’t bear the thought of Arthur mistaking his intentions.

He lifts a hand, feeling like a bastard when Arthur jerks involuntarily, and brings it to Arthur’s jaw, fingers sliding reverently against flushed, smooth skin before curling inwards to tip Arthur’s chin upward.

“If you keep looking at me like that, you’re going to break my heart,” he murmurs in earnest.

here's to the end of our sanity