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kyrene_writesTitle: Chase All the Clouds From the Sky: Part Four
Author:kyrenekyorl
Pairings/Characters: Dom Cobb/Eames, Phillipa, James, Miles, Arthur, Ariadne
Rating: R (mostly for language)
Word Count: 5,625 (this part)
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Warnings: More than a little ooc, majorly self indulgent.
Summary: Ariadne was nothing if not a pragmatist and yet she had not been able to shake the feeling for quite a while of something being wrong.
Chase All the Clouds From the Sky: Part Four
by kyrene
Ariadne was nothing if not a pragmatist and yet she had not been able to shake the feeling for quite a while of something being wrong.
Then again, it didn't take psychic abilities or other intangibles to be able to read between the lines. When Arthur had shown up in Paris to work with her in the dream-share -- doing jobs that were more often legal than not -- there had been something off about him. It had been faint enough that she'd almost thought that she'd imagined it.... At least until the first time she had mentioned Eames.
That was the point at which Arthur had frozen her out, and she'd known that whatever had changed in his demeanor it had involved Eames. She also knew better than to ask any more questions.
Her new bad feeling, though, was stronger, and she couldn't rationalize it away. It was an overwhelming sense of impending disaster, dogging her ever since she and Arthur had set foot in the States, and it didn't go away, only got worse.
They were here to meet up with some people in the dream-share who were doing some new and innovative studies, nothing illegal, nothing dangerous. The whole thing went smoothly, both parties went away happy, and that was when Arthur opened his mouth, and said, "Since we're here on the West Coast anyway, we should stop by and see Cobb."
There was no sudden realization, no flutter of nerves. All Ariadne felt was a small surge of pleasure, and she smiled as she said, "Good idea," already thinking about how nice it was going to be to see Phillipa and James again. And to watch Cobb playing "Daddy", something that was both amusing and amazing in equal parts. She'd greatly enjoyed her last visit, and was already looking forward to this one.
She would have expected that Arthur would have contacted Cobb. That was the sort of thing that Arthur just did. Which was why she didn't bother with it herself, and it was why she was so surprised when they were standing on Cobb's doorstep and Arthur said, while ringing the bell, "I hope he's in."
Ariadne was just opening her mouth to say something along the lines of, Doesn't he know we're coming? when the door opened and she felt that strange shifting in her head that she always felt when two parts of her life that should be completely separate came together in strange ways she didn't expect.
Of course, she knew that Professor Miles had been Cobb's father-in-law. If she hadn't been aware of that fact, she'd never have agreed to go to an old empty warehouse alone with Cobb and his "associate", Arthur. But knowing that and seeing the face that until just recently she'd been viewing from her seat in his classroom, peering at her mildly from Cobb's front door... well, her brain had to do an extra little shimmy to process that.
"Hello, Miles," Arthur said smoothly, before she could get her tongue working. Because of course Arthur knew him as well. "Is Cobb home?"
"Not at the moment," Professor Miles replied, and he was smiling benevolently at them both. Ariadne smiled back without pause; she liked Professor Miles. And, besides, he was one of the men who had helped to create the PASIV technology, and then he had introduced her to Cobb. Without his genius and that introduction, she would never have entered the wonder of the dream-share.
"But come on in," he was continuing, standing back and ushering them inside. She always forgot how tall he was. When she was looking down at him from the tiered desks in his classroom, he never seemed this imposing. And that was when she realized that even though he looked cheerful and friendly, and even though she trusted Professor Miles implicitly, there was something shuttered in his gaze. And, bam, just like that her bad feeling was back, stronger than ever.
Since it was warm out neither she nor Arthur had on jackets, and Professor Miles led them without pause into the living room.
"Uncle Arthur!" both Phillipa and James squealed, throwing themselves at the man. Ariadne grinned as Arthur fielded the kids' enthusiastic welcome, but her expression died as she turned her gaze further into the room and took in the fourth adult, slouching on the sofa.
For a long moment, she didn't recognize him. The last time she had seen him had been during the Fischer job, and the man she was looking at now was... completely different.
"Eames?" she gasped, knowing her voice had come out in a slightly humiliating squeak, knowing her eyes were huge, but she was too stunned by the change to disguise her immediate response.
Eames was almost unrecognizable. She knew those grey eyes, and she would recognize that mouth anywhere, but everything else.... God!
He was slim, probably close to the same weight as Arthur now, maybe even lighter. His face was gaunt, the bones standing out sharp in his cheekbones and jaw under soft, clean-shaven skin, which was another change. His hair was loose and messy, not pomaded, and needed a trim. He was wearing a dark plaid flannel button-up despite the warmth and a pair of black cotton pajama bottoms even though it was the middle of the afternoon.
Most of the change was in his eyes, though, in his expression. Ariadne was used to seeing Eames look alert and clear. Even at the most stressful period during the Fischer job, even when they're been working for days with little sleep outside the dream-share, Eames had always been bright-eyed and had seemed mildly amused, perfectly at ease. Now, though.... Now his eyes were dark and shadowed, ringed in bruised-looking skin. His face was drawn, no more of the fading tan he'd been sporting in Paris, he was almost as pale as Ariadne herself, and he'd gone white the moment he had seen them. When he had seen Arthur.
And now that he'd set eyes on Arthur, his lush lips had pressed in a thin line, removing the last thing about him that was familiar to Ariadne, bringing the feeling of something being wrong to a screaming crescendo, knotting her stomach. And if she hadn't already recognized him, Ariadne didn't think she'd have known who it was she was goggling at.
"Ariadne, hi," Phillipa was saying shyly, taking Ariadne's suddenly cold hand in hers, calling her attention from the shocking sight before her. Ariadne had instructed that she not be called "Aunt" anything last time she'd visited, and Phillipa had always been a little hesitant about calling her by her given name. But she was smiling up at Ariadne and looked genuinely happy to see her.
"Hey, kiddo," Ariadne greeted, hoping she didn't sound as choked as she felt, and she sank to one knee in order to give Phillipa a proper hug. James was riding high in Arthur's arms, but Ariadne didn't think she'd have rated a hug from him anyway; she'd bonded more with Phillipa during her previous visit, James remaining shy during most of it. Heck, he might not even remember her, seeing as it had been a while.
"Eames," Arthur said flatly, and Ariadne couldn't tell if he was as stunned by the man's appearance as she had been, not when there was zero inflection in his voice.
Eames remained silent, reaching up to rub at his upper lip, curling his left hand over his chin, his eyes round but still dark. His gaze was flickering back and forth between Arthur and Ariadne, but she didn't think she was imagining he was looking more at Arthur than at her.
"Don't get up on our account," Arthur continued dryly when it became clear that Eames wasn't going to respond, physically or verbally.
"He can't," Phillipa replied simply for Eames, pulling away from Ariadne and trotting over to the man in question. "Not without Daddy or Grandpa to help him up."
Eames' gaze skittered away, toward the big picture window that afforded them a view of the beautiful property the house was situated on. Ariadne glanced at Professor Miles, who looked old and sad for a moment before his features firmed.
"He took rather a bad tumble yesterday, and it's been a bit of a setback," he murmured softly, giving Ariadne a rueful look, since Arthur was staring fixedly at Eames and wasn't meeting his eyes.
"But what happened?" Ariadne found herself blurting before she thought not to.
Professor Miles looked startled, and he shot a sharp look at Eames, who kept his face turned away, even though he'd slung his left arm around Phillipa, where she was leaning into him.
"Perhaps we should go and talk in the kitchen," Professor Miles said quietly, and Ariadne heartily agreed, even though she sympathized with the hard-jawed glare that Eames shot him, his expression almost hurt. She would feel bad talking behind Eames' back, but she really wanted -- no, she needed to know!
"Daddy said we have to be careful with Uncle Eames because he gets tired easy and it hurts him to move," James chimed in helpfully.
Professor Miles shooed them as though they were all his students as he moved toward where Eames was slumped on the sofa. "Go on, then," he said. "Phillipa, love, go and show Ariadne where the juice is while Uncle Arthur makes some coffee. We'll be right with you."
So he didn't intend to leave Eames out of it, Ariadne thought with mingled relief and discomfort. It might be easier to talk about Eames if he wasn't there. But knowing that they had left him stranded on the sofa, aware that he knew they were talking about him where he couldn't hear, couldn't interject, well, that would probably be even worse.
"Come on, Ariadne," Phillipa said, and there was her small hand in Ariadne's, tugging her toward the kitchen.
Since she was feeling more than a little numb Ariadne allowed herself to be led, Arthur right behind her, still carrying James.
At least she knew what that bad feeling had been. Now she just wanted to find out what had happened to Eames and why he was here.
***
Eames really didn't want to go into the kitchen, but Miles wasn't giving him a choice. Besides, it would have been worse to stay in the living room all alone with everyone else in another room, talking about him....
Dammit, he'd been doing so well lately. Had been healing, had managed to stop thinking about Arthur all of the time. But then yesterday he'd slipped in the shower, worse than he'd ever done before, and the bench had actually made things worse when he had hit it on the way down. And today.... Well, today, here was a face he'd sort of been hoping never to have to see again.
But Arthur was here, and from the expression on his face it was clear that Dom hadn't informed him of what had happened with Cobol, or that Eames was living here now. Which Eames considered was a good thing. Or at least, it had been, until Arthur had showed up on the doorstep.
Miles lowered Eames carefully into a chair when they entered the kitchen, and as always it rankled that he had to accept aid in something simple like moving from someone so much older than himself. Phillipa immediately glued herself to his side, which she had hardly left since the day before, and Eames felt depressingly grateful for this.
Dom had only left the house when Miles had promised to watch over Eames as carefully as he would have done, and only in order to fill one of Eames' long neglected prescriptions for pain pills. Generally Eames refused to take them, not liking to have his head fogged like that. But after his fall yesterday they'd both realized that they needed to keep something a little stronger than Tylenol on hand, for emergencies.
And of course Arthur had shown up when Eames felt at his weakest, his most vulnerable. Two days ago, he'd have been able to handle Arthur's presence here with aplomb; or at least without feeling as though he might pass out at the mere sight of him. Without the need to hide behind a six year old.
To be fair, Phillipa was picking up on his discomfort, and she was sticking by him in order to protect him. It made him feel even more weak and pathetic, but it was also comforting at the same time.
"What happened?" Ariadne asked, fingers tight around a can of soda she wasn't drinking. He wasn't even sure she had opened it; it was more like a prop she was clinging to in order to have something to hold. Her cheeks were even more pale than usual, and she couldn't seem to tear her gaze away from Eames. He realized belatedly that he hadn't said a word to her since she'd entered the house, and that was hardly good manners.
"Hallo, love," he managed, even though he was right back to not being able to speak much after having fallen on his right side the day before. Honestly, he felt he'd lost nearly half a year of progress, and it was downright disheartening, even though he knew he was going to recover quickly enough.
She blinked at him, let out a little sound, then lunged out of her chair and gave him a very careful, very gentle hug around the neck and shoulders. He could feel her breath coming quick and hard as she kissed his cheekbone, and then she was sitting down again, her eyes still huge and still fixed on him.
"It was Cobol," he rasped, because he didn't know how much of the actual story Miles knew. He suspected the whole thing, but this was his tale to tell. "They came after Dom and the kids. I couldn't let that happen."
He was resolutely avoiding Arthur's eyes, but he could hear the sharp intake of breath. Probably wondering why he hadn't known about this, when it had happened, why Dom hadn't told him.... Eames was wondering that last a bit, himself, but he was also grateful.
"Cobol Engineering?" Ariadne queried, her brow puckering in a confused frown. "I thought they went under."
Eames gave her a mirthless grin. There was a flare of righteous vengeance in his chest, almost drowning out the wrenching pain of being in the same room as Arthur, just for a moment. "They did. Saito destroyed them," he offered simply.
"Saito knew?" Arthur snapped, at the same time Ariadne asked, "But what happened to you, Eames?"
Eames shrugged his good shoulder, and chose to answer Ariadne, since Arthur was just being rhetorical for effect. Obviously Saito had known, if Eames had said he did. "Just a few bullets to the chest," he said as easily as he could when it was hard to breathe. It wouldn't do to upset the children, after all.
This turned out to be a vain attempt, as he realized when Phillipa chipped in with her own contribution to the conversation.
"Daddy said that Uncle Eames died three times on the operating table."
And he hadn't thought Ariadne's eyes could get any rounder. His own heart thumped, but for a different reason.
"Pippa," he groaned, tightening the arm he had around the young girl, and turning his head to press a quick kiss to her temple. "You weren't supposed to know that."
"How can Uncle Eames come back from dying but Mommy is gone forever?" James, who was sitting in Arthur's lap, asked in his piping voice, his round face crinkling in confusion.
"Because there were doctors right there to bring Uncle Eames back," Phillipa replied, before any of the adults could think what to say. "But Mommy had already gone to heaven by the time the doctors reached her."
"Oh." James sounded enlightened and not overly upset by the direction the conversation had gone, though he and his sister were probably the only ones.
Ariadne sent Eames a horrified look, but Miles just looked tired and sad. Arthur... Eames didn't know how Arthur was reacting, because he was resolutely not looking at the other man. It might be the coward's way out, but he was sore and exhausted and felt completely unbalanced by Arthur and Ariadne's sudden appearance in his home. This was not how he had expected that his day would go at all.
"Uncle Eames got shot protecting me and James," Phillipa informed Ariadne seriously, since none of the adults seemed capable of speaking right now. "We'd be dead now if it wasn't for him."
Well, Eames couldn't really deny that fact, even though she made it sound a lot more self sacrificing than it had felt at the time. When it had been happening, it had just been instinct. Protect the children, right? What man wouldn't? No man who could call himself a man.
But he didn't have the strength or breath to say all this, and it wasn't any of Arthur's-- anyone else's business, anyway.
No one seemed to know what to say to this, so perhaps it was fortuitous that this was the moment that the coffeemaker beeped to announce that it was done brewing. Ariadne jumped up, and together she and Miles got out the mugs, cream, and sugar.
If they'd been in England, Eames mused, they'd have been having tea. Then again, if they'd been in England Eames might not have been shot in the chest.
But... James and Pippa would probably be dead, as Pippa had so blithely stated. And where would be the good in that?
Still, Eames did miss his tea.
"So you've been staying here since then?" Ariadne asked, placing a steaming mug of milky coffee before Eames, which he had absolutely zero intention of touching. He appreciate the thought, though, and murmured his thanks as articulately as he could manage.
"Uncle Eames lives here now," Phillipa told Ariadne firmly, and whatever shyness she might have evinced when she had first greeted Ariadne seemed to be gone. She was the neat and darling little lady of the house, and she was very definitely her mother's daughter. Eames loved her more than a little, but he rather wished she hadn't said what she had just said, so very bluntly.
Ariadne looked as much speculative as surprised, Eames was still trying to avoid meeting Arthur's eye, and that was the point at which Dom arrived home.
"What are you guys doing in here?" he was asking as he strode into the kitchen. Eames couldn't see him without turning, and he couldn't turn with Phillipa pressed up against his good side, but he could hear the startlement and delight in Dom's voice as he realized, "Ariadne!"
She jumped up and while Eames still couldn't see, he was pretty sure she had flung herself into Dom's arms.
And, was that.... Did he feel jealous? That was.... Just, no.
What?
"Did you get Uncle Eames' pills, Daddy?" Phillipa, bless her heart, stayed on target. Not that Eames wanted to take them. But he knew it distressed her to see him in pain, and so he didn't begrudge her question, and he probably would end up taking one or two, against his better judgment.
"Right here," Dom replied, coming up beside Eames, brandishing the pharmacy bag, then placing his other hand on Eames' shoulder and bending to kiss the crown of his head as had become the norm. Miles no longer batted an eye, though Eames sometimes cringed to know that the older man must be looking at him and thinking, this is what Dom is trying to replace my daughter with? Eames really didn't want to know how Arthur or Ariadne might be taking it. It wasn't any of their business, anyway, either of them.
"Hey, Arthur," Dom greeted, and Eames didn't think he was imagining that there was a bit of stiffness, of restraint in his tone, even though he crossed to clasp Arthur's hand.
Eames sort of hated that more than anything else so far today. As bad as it was seeing Arthur again, as bad as it was knowing that Arthur was seeing him in his weakness, knowing that there was a wedge between Dom and Arthur -- who had been good friends before if not close ones -- simply due to the fact that Arthur and Eames had once been lovers.... Well, that made Eames' stomach twist and made him feel lower than low, when he had already felt pretty damned low, dammit.
"You look like you're doing well," Arthur said, and Eames was pretty sure it was actual conversation, nothing guarded or hidden in his tone. He sounded as though he honestly meant it, and he probably did.
So perhaps the wedge was all in Eames' mind. Or in Dom's. Or maybe Arthur was just a better actor than Eames gave him credit for being. Once Eames had been better about reading people. Of course, once he'd been able to bathe himself without falling over and becoming completely helpless.
"Dad," Phillipa reminded.
"Yes, sweetheart," Dom said absently, retrieving the familiar, hated amber bottle from the bag, and opening it with a deft twist of his wrist.
Eames was already grimacing as he held out his left hand for the small pill. But he downed it obediently enough with a swig of lukewarm coffee, knowing that Pippa had a sharp eye on him the whole time.
"Are you guys staying here a while?" Dom asked, and he was practically hovering over Eames. Eames might have been more upset by this, but he knew that soon the pill would make him drowsy, so it was just as well that Dom was staying close at hand. Pippa was a dear, but as he'd proved in the past when he had almost squashed her, she wasn't big enough to catch him if he fell.
"We were hoping to," Ariadne replied, and she shot Arthur something remarkably like a dirty look. Eames wondered why. "As long as that's okay?"
"Oh, absolutely," Dom enthused, and he wasn't faking it now, Eames was relieved to note. "We'd love to have you."
And maybe that was stretching the truth more than a bit, but Eames was glad that Dom could speak the words and mean them. And he was quite pleased by the joy that lighted Ariadne's eyes.
This may not yet be a complete disaster.
***
This was going to be a complete disaster, Dom thought, even as he suggested they all return to the living room. It wasn't time for dinner yet, and now that everyone had gotten their drinks and there was coffee for refills, he wanted Eames on the sofa. Soon enough the man would be nodding off, and doing so in a kitchen chair would not only be uncomfortable, it would be potentially dangerous.
Resting his head against Dom's shoulder, where it belonged, was much better. Not that this was how they started out. As usual, they were seated side by side on the sofa, and Eames just sort of... slid. Dom knew that he was more than half asleep, because if he hadn't been, he'd never have let down his guard like this.
It was a pain pills, of course. Dom was certain that otherwise having Arthur here would be causing Eames to be more alert, more aware of what was going on around him. Less likely to lean on Dom....
He couldn't help but be a little grateful for the pills, even if he wasn't glad that Eames was in pain so much that he needed them.
"Dom, why didn't you tell me?" Ariadne asked, almost whispering, her eyes fixed on Eames where he was dozing against Dom's shoulder.
Dom noted that she hadn't said "us", but he wasn't sure what to make of it. Arthur's face was as blank as Dom had ever seen it, so he didn't have a clue what he was making of this whole thing.
He also didn't know how Eames was going to deal with being face to face with Arthur again. In fact, he wasn't even certain what he was going to do, how he felt. He was glad to have Ariadne here. He'd have been happy to see Arthur if not for the fact that he and Eames had once been together....
Jealousy wasn't very becoming, Dom knew. But he couldn't help feeling fiercely possessive and extremely protective. He wanted to keep Eames safe, even though he had the sinking feeling that there was no way he could do so. None at all.
"We haven't talked or written since it happened," he defended weakly, giving her what used to be a charming smile. He had the feeling he was woefully out of practice, and there definitely wasn't any thawing of her hard expression.
"You could have called," she said, frowning at him. "You could have written."
"I've been a little busy," he said, frowning back, but not very deeply. It was true, though. Between raising his children, watching over Eames and monitoring his recovery, not to mention working occasionally to keep them all fed, he'd barely had time to breathe.
"Sorry," he offered, and he meant it. Because even though he had been busy, she was right and he should have let her know. Even though doing so would have alerted Arthur, she was something separate from the point man and she had deserved to be informed about something this major.
From the twist of Ariadne's full lips and the considering gleam in her eyes he could tell she was thinking about forgiving him. He hoped she did; his apology had been honestly meant.
"You should have let me know about Cobol," Arthur spoke up, his voice low and intense, his eyes dark where he was watching Eames sleep against Dom's shoulder and upper chest. And by this point, Dom thought it was pretty obvious that Eames was sound asleep, so they could speak at normal volumes instead of whispering.
"By the time I knew Cobol was coming after me Eames was here and we were running," Dom explained, trying to keep his tone even. "And once the dust settled, Saito ruined them all. There was no need for anyone else to help."
That was a little harsh, he thought, even as the words left his mouth, but it was true, nonetheless.
"Is he okay?" Ariadne asked, and she looked worried. She and Eames hadn't interacted a lot during the Fischer job, but they had all spent quite a bit of time in one another's heads, and Dom knew that Eames had had something of a soft spot for their fledgling architect, even though he had done his best to disguise it. Obviously she meant her question, and truly cared about the answer.
"Getting there," Dom replied, and it was only when he saw Arthur's eyes narrow that he realized he was running his fingers through Eames' soft hair, with the hand of the arm he had around him. This sudden scrutiny in no way influenced him to stop. "He was doing a lot better before yesterday, but he fell and now he's feeling worse again. He hasn't touched a pain pill in months, so you know it's bad now."
Ariadne nodded, her face softening, but if anything, Arthur looked grimmer. Dom really hoped that this wasn't because of lingering feelings he had for Eames... but he knew that it probably was.
He really should have seen this coming, he supposed. Having Arthur here wasn't a problem for him. But Eames having to see and deal with Arthur, knowing that the two of them had been... whatever they had been to one another. Lovers? He didn't like to think about it, but he was ninety-nine percent certain that it was true.
Well, Arthur couldn't have Eames back. He belonged with the Cobb family now. He belonged to Dom now!
No.... No, not that. But Dom had more of a claim on Eames' affections now than Arthur did.
Right?
"I hope take-in is all right for dinner," he said, striving to change to subject, to lighten the mood. He had food in the house, but he'd only been planning on feeding three adults and two children, not seven people total. Besides, he didn't want to leave Eames' side for as long as it would take to cook something. He didn't want to leave Eames' side... at all.
"I'll pay for it," Arthur offered, and his gaze moved from Eames to Dom. Dom could see him force himself to relax. "Since we showed up with no notice."
"Which was not my idea, by the way," Ariadne spoke up, shooting Arthur a meaningful scowl. Arthur had the good graces to look sheepish, and offered Dom a small smile.
Dom grinned and nodded, and just like that things were okay. It wouldn't last. They wouldn't remain okay.
But for a moment, it felt almost like old times.
***
Eames slept through dinner, and Arthur didn't know whether to be relieved by this or not. It wasn't as though they had spoken so much as one word to one another since Arthur had walked into Cobb's house and found Eames evidently living here.
Well, Arthur had asked Eames at least one question, but Eames had chosen not to answer. It had been a useless, throw-away question, but Arthur still felt that the snub had been deliberate.
Not that he could blame Eames. But... well, this situation wasn't Arthur's fault. Not any of it!
"He wouldn't eat much anyway," Cobb said, his brow heavy and his mouth twisting as he glanced at Eames, where he had slipped down so far that his head was resting in Cobb's lap. Arthur read the easy affection and muted worry there, and he felt something in his chest twist, even though he wasn't quite sure what exactly it was.
"He tries, Daddy," Phillipa protested, because she had evidently set herself up as Eames' fierce little defender. But seeing as Eames had saved her life, this was only to be expected. If Arthur was reading the situation correctly, Cobb's children had seen Eames get shot. In Phillipa's case, as the eldest and as a brilliant little girl, the resulting trauma might very well manifest itself in a powerful protective streak.
It certainly explained Dom's protectiveness. Though it didn't explain why he was so... handsy with Eames.
But was that any of Arthur's business? Not really. He resolutely reminded himself of this as they finished eating, had dessert, then sat talking until the children's bedtime.
Miles offered to see the tots off, and neither James nor Phillipa protested, both behaving like little angels for their grandfather. Although, Phillipa did extract the promise from both Ariadne and Arthur that they would be there in the morning. They promised, and there they were, locked in. Not that Arthur had been planning on running. This might be an awkward situation, but he wasn't a coward. And Eames deserved better than that, he really did.
Cobb was yawning and sleepy eyed, and he smiled apologetically at Ariadne and Arthur, one hand still absently carding through Eames' messy hair. "Sorry. Eames and I usually go to bed pretty soon after the kids," he said, sliding carefully from under Eames, gently placing a throw pillow under his head, and beginning to collect the empty plates and utensils. Arthur and Ariadne jumped to help him. "It's easier to keep to their schedule, and Eames is always so tired by the end of the day."
Ariadne nodded, looking pensive and distressed in equal measures. "I'm glad you guys are taking care of him," she said, her gaze fixed on Eames where he lay, sound asleep on the sofa. Arthur wondered absently how Cobb was planning to get him to bed.
"What else would we do?" Cobb asked, and it sounded so reasonable when he put it like that.
Ariadne smiled at him, then preceded the two men into the kitchen. Cobb hung back a moment, and Arthur arched a brow at him.
"You can have the green room, and Ariadne can have the peach room," Cobb offered, naming off two of the guest rooms, his blue eyes wide and guileless. "Unless you and Ariadne will be sharing...?" he then added, about as delicately as an anvil to the head.
"No," Arthur replied, squashing that suggestion immediately, before Cobb could get the wrong idea. Although, apparently he'd already had the wrong idea. But Arthur had something else on his mind, something more important. "Where's Miles staying?" Because as far as he knew, the Cobb house only had three guestrooms.
"In the yellow room," Cobb answered, frowning faintly, looking confused by the question.
"Well, then, where's Eames--" Arthur cut himself off before he could finish that question, because he wasn't sure he wanted the answer, even though he was ninety-nine percent certain he already knew.
"Where do you think?" Cobb asked, giving Arthur a look as though he thought he was stupid. Arthur wasn't used to getting that look from Cobb. He found he didn't care for it. Nor less the man's tone of voice.
Arthur could feel his lips firming, and since he had no right to feel outraged, should have seen that coming, he turned and followed Ariadne into the kitchen.
He'd known the moment he'd seen Eames that this visit was going to be a bad idea. But now he was coming to wonder if it might not be a complete disaster in the making.
next
Author:
kyrenekyorlPairings/Characters: Dom Cobb/Eames, Phillipa, James, Miles, Arthur, Ariadne
Rating: R (mostly for language)
Word Count: 5,625 (this part)
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Warnings: More than a little ooc, majorly self indulgent.
Summary: Ariadne was nothing if not a pragmatist and yet she had not been able to shake the feeling for quite a while of something being wrong.
Chase All the Clouds From the Sky: Part Four
by kyrene
Ariadne was nothing if not a pragmatist and yet she had not been able to shake the feeling for quite a while of something being wrong.
Then again, it didn't take psychic abilities or other intangibles to be able to read between the lines. When Arthur had shown up in Paris to work with her in the dream-share -- doing jobs that were more often legal than not -- there had been something off about him. It had been faint enough that she'd almost thought that she'd imagined it.... At least until the first time she had mentioned Eames.
That was the point at which Arthur had frozen her out, and she'd known that whatever had changed in his demeanor it had involved Eames. She also knew better than to ask any more questions.
Her new bad feeling, though, was stronger, and she couldn't rationalize it away. It was an overwhelming sense of impending disaster, dogging her ever since she and Arthur had set foot in the States, and it didn't go away, only got worse.
They were here to meet up with some people in the dream-share who were doing some new and innovative studies, nothing illegal, nothing dangerous. The whole thing went smoothly, both parties went away happy, and that was when Arthur opened his mouth, and said, "Since we're here on the West Coast anyway, we should stop by and see Cobb."
There was no sudden realization, no flutter of nerves. All Ariadne felt was a small surge of pleasure, and she smiled as she said, "Good idea," already thinking about how nice it was going to be to see Phillipa and James again. And to watch Cobb playing "Daddy", something that was both amusing and amazing in equal parts. She'd greatly enjoyed her last visit, and was already looking forward to this one.
She would have expected that Arthur would have contacted Cobb. That was the sort of thing that Arthur just did. Which was why she didn't bother with it herself, and it was why she was so surprised when they were standing on Cobb's doorstep and Arthur said, while ringing the bell, "I hope he's in."
Ariadne was just opening her mouth to say something along the lines of, Doesn't he know we're coming? when the door opened and she felt that strange shifting in her head that she always felt when two parts of her life that should be completely separate came together in strange ways she didn't expect.
Of course, she knew that Professor Miles had been Cobb's father-in-law. If she hadn't been aware of that fact, she'd never have agreed to go to an old empty warehouse alone with Cobb and his "associate", Arthur. But knowing that and seeing the face that until just recently she'd been viewing from her seat in his classroom, peering at her mildly from Cobb's front door... well, her brain had to do an extra little shimmy to process that.
"Hello, Miles," Arthur said smoothly, before she could get her tongue working. Because of course Arthur knew him as well. "Is Cobb home?"
"Not at the moment," Professor Miles replied, and he was smiling benevolently at them both. Ariadne smiled back without pause; she liked Professor Miles. And, besides, he was one of the men who had helped to create the PASIV technology, and then he had introduced her to Cobb. Without his genius and that introduction, she would never have entered the wonder of the dream-share.
"But come on in," he was continuing, standing back and ushering them inside. She always forgot how tall he was. When she was looking down at him from the tiered desks in his classroom, he never seemed this imposing. And that was when she realized that even though he looked cheerful and friendly, and even though she trusted Professor Miles implicitly, there was something shuttered in his gaze. And, bam, just like that her bad feeling was back, stronger than ever.
Since it was warm out neither she nor Arthur had on jackets, and Professor Miles led them without pause into the living room.
"Uncle Arthur!" both Phillipa and James squealed, throwing themselves at the man. Ariadne grinned as Arthur fielded the kids' enthusiastic welcome, but her expression died as she turned her gaze further into the room and took in the fourth adult, slouching on the sofa.
For a long moment, she didn't recognize him. The last time she had seen him had been during the Fischer job, and the man she was looking at now was... completely different.
"Eames?" she gasped, knowing her voice had come out in a slightly humiliating squeak, knowing her eyes were huge, but she was too stunned by the change to disguise her immediate response.
Eames was almost unrecognizable. She knew those grey eyes, and she would recognize that mouth anywhere, but everything else.... God!
He was slim, probably close to the same weight as Arthur now, maybe even lighter. His face was gaunt, the bones standing out sharp in his cheekbones and jaw under soft, clean-shaven skin, which was another change. His hair was loose and messy, not pomaded, and needed a trim. He was wearing a dark plaid flannel button-up despite the warmth and a pair of black cotton pajama bottoms even though it was the middle of the afternoon.
Most of the change was in his eyes, though, in his expression. Ariadne was used to seeing Eames look alert and clear. Even at the most stressful period during the Fischer job, even when they're been working for days with little sleep outside the dream-share, Eames had always been bright-eyed and had seemed mildly amused, perfectly at ease. Now, though.... Now his eyes were dark and shadowed, ringed in bruised-looking skin. His face was drawn, no more of the fading tan he'd been sporting in Paris, he was almost as pale as Ariadne herself, and he'd gone white the moment he had seen them. When he had seen Arthur.
And now that he'd set eyes on Arthur, his lush lips had pressed in a thin line, removing the last thing about him that was familiar to Ariadne, bringing the feeling of something being wrong to a screaming crescendo, knotting her stomach. And if she hadn't already recognized him, Ariadne didn't think she'd have known who it was she was goggling at.
"Ariadne, hi," Phillipa was saying shyly, taking Ariadne's suddenly cold hand in hers, calling her attention from the shocking sight before her. Ariadne had instructed that she not be called "Aunt" anything last time she'd visited, and Phillipa had always been a little hesitant about calling her by her given name. But she was smiling up at Ariadne and looked genuinely happy to see her.
"Hey, kiddo," Ariadne greeted, hoping she didn't sound as choked as she felt, and she sank to one knee in order to give Phillipa a proper hug. James was riding high in Arthur's arms, but Ariadne didn't think she'd have rated a hug from him anyway; she'd bonded more with Phillipa during her previous visit, James remaining shy during most of it. Heck, he might not even remember her, seeing as it had been a while.
"Eames," Arthur said flatly, and Ariadne couldn't tell if he was as stunned by the man's appearance as she had been, not when there was zero inflection in his voice.
Eames remained silent, reaching up to rub at his upper lip, curling his left hand over his chin, his eyes round but still dark. His gaze was flickering back and forth between Arthur and Ariadne, but she didn't think she was imagining he was looking more at Arthur than at her.
"Don't get up on our account," Arthur continued dryly when it became clear that Eames wasn't going to respond, physically or verbally.
"He can't," Phillipa replied simply for Eames, pulling away from Ariadne and trotting over to the man in question. "Not without Daddy or Grandpa to help him up."
Eames' gaze skittered away, toward the big picture window that afforded them a view of the beautiful property the house was situated on. Ariadne glanced at Professor Miles, who looked old and sad for a moment before his features firmed.
"He took rather a bad tumble yesterday, and it's been a bit of a setback," he murmured softly, giving Ariadne a rueful look, since Arthur was staring fixedly at Eames and wasn't meeting his eyes.
"But what happened?" Ariadne found herself blurting before she thought not to.
Professor Miles looked startled, and he shot a sharp look at Eames, who kept his face turned away, even though he'd slung his left arm around Phillipa, where she was leaning into him.
"Perhaps we should go and talk in the kitchen," Professor Miles said quietly, and Ariadne heartily agreed, even though she sympathized with the hard-jawed glare that Eames shot him, his expression almost hurt. She would feel bad talking behind Eames' back, but she really wanted -- no, she needed to know!
"Daddy said we have to be careful with Uncle Eames because he gets tired easy and it hurts him to move," James chimed in helpfully.
Professor Miles shooed them as though they were all his students as he moved toward where Eames was slumped on the sofa. "Go on, then," he said. "Phillipa, love, go and show Ariadne where the juice is while Uncle Arthur makes some coffee. We'll be right with you."
So he didn't intend to leave Eames out of it, Ariadne thought with mingled relief and discomfort. It might be easier to talk about Eames if he wasn't there. But knowing that they had left him stranded on the sofa, aware that he knew they were talking about him where he couldn't hear, couldn't interject, well, that would probably be even worse.
"Come on, Ariadne," Phillipa said, and there was her small hand in Ariadne's, tugging her toward the kitchen.
Since she was feeling more than a little numb Ariadne allowed herself to be led, Arthur right behind her, still carrying James.
At least she knew what that bad feeling had been. Now she just wanted to find out what had happened to Eames and why he was here.
***
Eames really didn't want to go into the kitchen, but Miles wasn't giving him a choice. Besides, it would have been worse to stay in the living room all alone with everyone else in another room, talking about him....
Dammit, he'd been doing so well lately. Had been healing, had managed to stop thinking about Arthur all of the time. But then yesterday he'd slipped in the shower, worse than he'd ever done before, and the bench had actually made things worse when he had hit it on the way down. And today.... Well, today, here was a face he'd sort of been hoping never to have to see again.
But Arthur was here, and from the expression on his face it was clear that Dom hadn't informed him of what had happened with Cobol, or that Eames was living here now. Which Eames considered was a good thing. Or at least, it had been, until Arthur had showed up on the doorstep.
Miles lowered Eames carefully into a chair when they entered the kitchen, and as always it rankled that he had to accept aid in something simple like moving from someone so much older than himself. Phillipa immediately glued herself to his side, which she had hardly left since the day before, and Eames felt depressingly grateful for this.
Dom had only left the house when Miles had promised to watch over Eames as carefully as he would have done, and only in order to fill one of Eames' long neglected prescriptions for pain pills. Generally Eames refused to take them, not liking to have his head fogged like that. But after his fall yesterday they'd both realized that they needed to keep something a little stronger than Tylenol on hand, for emergencies.
And of course Arthur had shown up when Eames felt at his weakest, his most vulnerable. Two days ago, he'd have been able to handle Arthur's presence here with aplomb; or at least without feeling as though he might pass out at the mere sight of him. Without the need to hide behind a six year old.
To be fair, Phillipa was picking up on his discomfort, and she was sticking by him in order to protect him. It made him feel even more weak and pathetic, but it was also comforting at the same time.
"What happened?" Ariadne asked, fingers tight around a can of soda she wasn't drinking. He wasn't even sure she had opened it; it was more like a prop she was clinging to in order to have something to hold. Her cheeks were even more pale than usual, and she couldn't seem to tear her gaze away from Eames. He realized belatedly that he hadn't said a word to her since she'd entered the house, and that was hardly good manners.
"Hallo, love," he managed, even though he was right back to not being able to speak much after having fallen on his right side the day before. Honestly, he felt he'd lost nearly half a year of progress, and it was downright disheartening, even though he knew he was going to recover quickly enough.
She blinked at him, let out a little sound, then lunged out of her chair and gave him a very careful, very gentle hug around the neck and shoulders. He could feel her breath coming quick and hard as she kissed his cheekbone, and then she was sitting down again, her eyes still huge and still fixed on him.
"It was Cobol," he rasped, because he didn't know how much of the actual story Miles knew. He suspected the whole thing, but this was his tale to tell. "They came after Dom and the kids. I couldn't let that happen."
He was resolutely avoiding Arthur's eyes, but he could hear the sharp intake of breath. Probably wondering why he hadn't known about this, when it had happened, why Dom hadn't told him.... Eames was wondering that last a bit, himself, but he was also grateful.
"Cobol Engineering?" Ariadne queried, her brow puckering in a confused frown. "I thought they went under."
Eames gave her a mirthless grin. There was a flare of righteous vengeance in his chest, almost drowning out the wrenching pain of being in the same room as Arthur, just for a moment. "They did. Saito destroyed them," he offered simply.
"Saito knew?" Arthur snapped, at the same time Ariadne asked, "But what happened to you, Eames?"
Eames shrugged his good shoulder, and chose to answer Ariadne, since Arthur was just being rhetorical for effect. Obviously Saito had known, if Eames had said he did. "Just a few bullets to the chest," he said as easily as he could when it was hard to breathe. It wouldn't do to upset the children, after all.
This turned out to be a vain attempt, as he realized when Phillipa chipped in with her own contribution to the conversation.
"Daddy said that Uncle Eames died three times on the operating table."
And he hadn't thought Ariadne's eyes could get any rounder. His own heart thumped, but for a different reason.
"Pippa," he groaned, tightening the arm he had around the young girl, and turning his head to press a quick kiss to her temple. "You weren't supposed to know that."
"How can Uncle Eames come back from dying but Mommy is gone forever?" James, who was sitting in Arthur's lap, asked in his piping voice, his round face crinkling in confusion.
"Because there were doctors right there to bring Uncle Eames back," Phillipa replied, before any of the adults could think what to say. "But Mommy had already gone to heaven by the time the doctors reached her."
"Oh." James sounded enlightened and not overly upset by the direction the conversation had gone, though he and his sister were probably the only ones.
Ariadne sent Eames a horrified look, but Miles just looked tired and sad. Arthur... Eames didn't know how Arthur was reacting, because he was resolutely not looking at the other man. It might be the coward's way out, but he was sore and exhausted and felt completely unbalanced by Arthur and Ariadne's sudden appearance in his home. This was not how he had expected that his day would go at all.
"Uncle Eames got shot protecting me and James," Phillipa informed Ariadne seriously, since none of the adults seemed capable of speaking right now. "We'd be dead now if it wasn't for him."
Well, Eames couldn't really deny that fact, even though she made it sound a lot more self sacrificing than it had felt at the time. When it had been happening, it had just been instinct. Protect the children, right? What man wouldn't? No man who could call himself a man.
But he didn't have the strength or breath to say all this, and it wasn't any of Arthur's-- anyone else's business, anyway.
No one seemed to know what to say to this, so perhaps it was fortuitous that this was the moment that the coffeemaker beeped to announce that it was done brewing. Ariadne jumped up, and together she and Miles got out the mugs, cream, and sugar.
If they'd been in England, Eames mused, they'd have been having tea. Then again, if they'd been in England Eames might not have been shot in the chest.
But... James and Pippa would probably be dead, as Pippa had so blithely stated. And where would be the good in that?
Still, Eames did miss his tea.
"So you've been staying here since then?" Ariadne asked, placing a steaming mug of milky coffee before Eames, which he had absolutely zero intention of touching. He appreciate the thought, though, and murmured his thanks as articulately as he could manage.
"Uncle Eames lives here now," Phillipa told Ariadne firmly, and whatever shyness she might have evinced when she had first greeted Ariadne seemed to be gone. She was the neat and darling little lady of the house, and she was very definitely her mother's daughter. Eames loved her more than a little, but he rather wished she hadn't said what she had just said, so very bluntly.
Ariadne looked as much speculative as surprised, Eames was still trying to avoid meeting Arthur's eye, and that was the point at which Dom arrived home.
"What are you guys doing in here?" he was asking as he strode into the kitchen. Eames couldn't see him without turning, and he couldn't turn with Phillipa pressed up against his good side, but he could hear the startlement and delight in Dom's voice as he realized, "Ariadne!"
She jumped up and while Eames still couldn't see, he was pretty sure she had flung herself into Dom's arms.
And, was that.... Did he feel jealous? That was.... Just, no.
What?
"Did you get Uncle Eames' pills, Daddy?" Phillipa, bless her heart, stayed on target. Not that Eames wanted to take them. But he knew it distressed her to see him in pain, and so he didn't begrudge her question, and he probably would end up taking one or two, against his better judgment.
"Right here," Dom replied, coming up beside Eames, brandishing the pharmacy bag, then placing his other hand on Eames' shoulder and bending to kiss the crown of his head as had become the norm. Miles no longer batted an eye, though Eames sometimes cringed to know that the older man must be looking at him and thinking, this is what Dom is trying to replace my daughter with? Eames really didn't want to know how Arthur or Ariadne might be taking it. It wasn't any of their business, anyway, either of them.
"Hey, Arthur," Dom greeted, and Eames didn't think he was imagining that there was a bit of stiffness, of restraint in his tone, even though he crossed to clasp Arthur's hand.
Eames sort of hated that more than anything else so far today. As bad as it was seeing Arthur again, as bad as it was knowing that Arthur was seeing him in his weakness, knowing that there was a wedge between Dom and Arthur -- who had been good friends before if not close ones -- simply due to the fact that Arthur and Eames had once been lovers.... Well, that made Eames' stomach twist and made him feel lower than low, when he had already felt pretty damned low, dammit.
"You look like you're doing well," Arthur said, and Eames was pretty sure it was actual conversation, nothing guarded or hidden in his tone. He sounded as though he honestly meant it, and he probably did.
So perhaps the wedge was all in Eames' mind. Or in Dom's. Or maybe Arthur was just a better actor than Eames gave him credit for being. Once Eames had been better about reading people. Of course, once he'd been able to bathe himself without falling over and becoming completely helpless.
"Dad," Phillipa reminded.
"Yes, sweetheart," Dom said absently, retrieving the familiar, hated amber bottle from the bag, and opening it with a deft twist of his wrist.
Eames was already grimacing as he held out his left hand for the small pill. But he downed it obediently enough with a swig of lukewarm coffee, knowing that Pippa had a sharp eye on him the whole time.
"Are you guys staying here a while?" Dom asked, and he was practically hovering over Eames. Eames might have been more upset by this, but he knew that soon the pill would make him drowsy, so it was just as well that Dom was staying close at hand. Pippa was a dear, but as he'd proved in the past when he had almost squashed her, she wasn't big enough to catch him if he fell.
"We were hoping to," Ariadne replied, and she shot Arthur something remarkably like a dirty look. Eames wondered why. "As long as that's okay?"
"Oh, absolutely," Dom enthused, and he wasn't faking it now, Eames was relieved to note. "We'd love to have you."
And maybe that was stretching the truth more than a bit, but Eames was glad that Dom could speak the words and mean them. And he was quite pleased by the joy that lighted Ariadne's eyes.
This may not yet be a complete disaster.
***
This was going to be a complete disaster, Dom thought, even as he suggested they all return to the living room. It wasn't time for dinner yet, and now that everyone had gotten their drinks and there was coffee for refills, he wanted Eames on the sofa. Soon enough the man would be nodding off, and doing so in a kitchen chair would not only be uncomfortable, it would be potentially dangerous.
Resting his head against Dom's shoulder, where it belonged, was much better. Not that this was how they started out. As usual, they were seated side by side on the sofa, and Eames just sort of... slid. Dom knew that he was more than half asleep, because if he hadn't been, he'd never have let down his guard like this.
It was a pain pills, of course. Dom was certain that otherwise having Arthur here would be causing Eames to be more alert, more aware of what was going on around him. Less likely to lean on Dom....
He couldn't help but be a little grateful for the pills, even if he wasn't glad that Eames was in pain so much that he needed them.
"Dom, why didn't you tell me?" Ariadne asked, almost whispering, her eyes fixed on Eames where he was dozing against Dom's shoulder.
Dom noted that she hadn't said "us", but he wasn't sure what to make of it. Arthur's face was as blank as Dom had ever seen it, so he didn't have a clue what he was making of this whole thing.
He also didn't know how Eames was going to deal with being face to face with Arthur again. In fact, he wasn't even certain what he was going to do, how he felt. He was glad to have Ariadne here. He'd have been happy to see Arthur if not for the fact that he and Eames had once been together....
Jealousy wasn't very becoming, Dom knew. But he couldn't help feeling fiercely possessive and extremely protective. He wanted to keep Eames safe, even though he had the sinking feeling that there was no way he could do so. None at all.
"We haven't talked or written since it happened," he defended weakly, giving her what used to be a charming smile. He had the feeling he was woefully out of practice, and there definitely wasn't any thawing of her hard expression.
"You could have called," she said, frowning at him. "You could have written."
"I've been a little busy," he said, frowning back, but not very deeply. It was true, though. Between raising his children, watching over Eames and monitoring his recovery, not to mention working occasionally to keep them all fed, he'd barely had time to breathe.
"Sorry," he offered, and he meant it. Because even though he had been busy, she was right and he should have let her know. Even though doing so would have alerted Arthur, she was something separate from the point man and she had deserved to be informed about something this major.
From the twist of Ariadne's full lips and the considering gleam in her eyes he could tell she was thinking about forgiving him. He hoped she did; his apology had been honestly meant.
"You should have let me know about Cobol," Arthur spoke up, his voice low and intense, his eyes dark where he was watching Eames sleep against Dom's shoulder and upper chest. And by this point, Dom thought it was pretty obvious that Eames was sound asleep, so they could speak at normal volumes instead of whispering.
"By the time I knew Cobol was coming after me Eames was here and we were running," Dom explained, trying to keep his tone even. "And once the dust settled, Saito ruined them all. There was no need for anyone else to help."
That was a little harsh, he thought, even as the words left his mouth, but it was true, nonetheless.
"Is he okay?" Ariadne asked, and she looked worried. She and Eames hadn't interacted a lot during the Fischer job, but they had all spent quite a bit of time in one another's heads, and Dom knew that Eames had had something of a soft spot for their fledgling architect, even though he had done his best to disguise it. Obviously she meant her question, and truly cared about the answer.
"Getting there," Dom replied, and it was only when he saw Arthur's eyes narrow that he realized he was running his fingers through Eames' soft hair, with the hand of the arm he had around him. This sudden scrutiny in no way influenced him to stop. "He was doing a lot better before yesterday, but he fell and now he's feeling worse again. He hasn't touched a pain pill in months, so you know it's bad now."
Ariadne nodded, her face softening, but if anything, Arthur looked grimmer. Dom really hoped that this wasn't because of lingering feelings he had for Eames... but he knew that it probably was.
He really should have seen this coming, he supposed. Having Arthur here wasn't a problem for him. But Eames having to see and deal with Arthur, knowing that the two of them had been... whatever they had been to one another. Lovers? He didn't like to think about it, but he was ninety-nine percent certain that it was true.
Well, Arthur couldn't have Eames back. He belonged with the Cobb family now. He belonged to Dom now!
No.... No, not that. But Dom had more of a claim on Eames' affections now than Arthur did.
Right?
"I hope take-in is all right for dinner," he said, striving to change to subject, to lighten the mood. He had food in the house, but he'd only been planning on feeding three adults and two children, not seven people total. Besides, he didn't want to leave Eames' side for as long as it would take to cook something. He didn't want to leave Eames' side... at all.
"I'll pay for it," Arthur offered, and his gaze moved from Eames to Dom. Dom could see him force himself to relax. "Since we showed up with no notice."
"Which was not my idea, by the way," Ariadne spoke up, shooting Arthur a meaningful scowl. Arthur had the good graces to look sheepish, and offered Dom a small smile.
Dom grinned and nodded, and just like that things were okay. It wouldn't last. They wouldn't remain okay.
But for a moment, it felt almost like old times.
***
Eames slept through dinner, and Arthur didn't know whether to be relieved by this or not. It wasn't as though they had spoken so much as one word to one another since Arthur had walked into Cobb's house and found Eames evidently living here.
Well, Arthur had asked Eames at least one question, but Eames had chosen not to answer. It had been a useless, throw-away question, but Arthur still felt that the snub had been deliberate.
Not that he could blame Eames. But... well, this situation wasn't Arthur's fault. Not any of it!
"He wouldn't eat much anyway," Cobb said, his brow heavy and his mouth twisting as he glanced at Eames, where he had slipped down so far that his head was resting in Cobb's lap. Arthur read the easy affection and muted worry there, and he felt something in his chest twist, even though he wasn't quite sure what exactly it was.
"He tries, Daddy," Phillipa protested, because she had evidently set herself up as Eames' fierce little defender. But seeing as Eames had saved her life, this was only to be expected. If Arthur was reading the situation correctly, Cobb's children had seen Eames get shot. In Phillipa's case, as the eldest and as a brilliant little girl, the resulting trauma might very well manifest itself in a powerful protective streak.
It certainly explained Dom's protectiveness. Though it didn't explain why he was so... handsy with Eames.
But was that any of Arthur's business? Not really. He resolutely reminded himself of this as they finished eating, had dessert, then sat talking until the children's bedtime.
Miles offered to see the tots off, and neither James nor Phillipa protested, both behaving like little angels for their grandfather. Although, Phillipa did extract the promise from both Ariadne and Arthur that they would be there in the morning. They promised, and there they were, locked in. Not that Arthur had been planning on running. This might be an awkward situation, but he wasn't a coward. And Eames deserved better than that, he really did.
Cobb was yawning and sleepy eyed, and he smiled apologetically at Ariadne and Arthur, one hand still absently carding through Eames' messy hair. "Sorry. Eames and I usually go to bed pretty soon after the kids," he said, sliding carefully from under Eames, gently placing a throw pillow under his head, and beginning to collect the empty plates and utensils. Arthur and Ariadne jumped to help him. "It's easier to keep to their schedule, and Eames is always so tired by the end of the day."
Ariadne nodded, looking pensive and distressed in equal measures. "I'm glad you guys are taking care of him," she said, her gaze fixed on Eames where he lay, sound asleep on the sofa. Arthur wondered absently how Cobb was planning to get him to bed.
"What else would we do?" Cobb asked, and it sounded so reasonable when he put it like that.
Ariadne smiled at him, then preceded the two men into the kitchen. Cobb hung back a moment, and Arthur arched a brow at him.
"You can have the green room, and Ariadne can have the peach room," Cobb offered, naming off two of the guest rooms, his blue eyes wide and guileless. "Unless you and Ariadne will be sharing...?" he then added, about as delicately as an anvil to the head.
"No," Arthur replied, squashing that suggestion immediately, before Cobb could get the wrong idea. Although, apparently he'd already had the wrong idea. But Arthur had something else on his mind, something more important. "Where's Miles staying?" Because as far as he knew, the Cobb house only had three guestrooms.
"In the yellow room," Cobb answered, frowning faintly, looking confused by the question.
"Well, then, where's Eames--" Arthur cut himself off before he could finish that question, because he wasn't sure he wanted the answer, even though he was ninety-nine percent certain he already knew.
"Where do you think?" Cobb asked, giving Arthur a look as though he thought he was stupid. Arthur wasn't used to getting that look from Cobb. He found he didn't care for it. Nor less the man's tone of voice.
Arthur could feel his lips firming, and since he had no right to feel outraged, should have seen that coming, he turned and followed Ariadne into the kitchen.
He'd known the moment he'd seen Eames that this visit was going to be a bad idea. But now he was coming to wonder if it might not be a complete disaster in the making.
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