[FIC - Inception] This Is The Job

[croik]

Fandom: Inception
Title: This Is The Job
Rating: PG (references to violence and injury but nothing graphic)
Word Count: 1,800
Summary: When Cobb gets injured on a job it's a wake-up call for Arthur, and Eames even more so. Written for TEAM ANGST in ae_match
A/N: Many thanks to knowmydark for her inspiring feedback <3




It took Eames ten minutes of scrubbing to get the blood off his hands and out from under his nails. He was thorough, as always, and was just as careful tidying up the motel bathroom afterwards. There was nothing he could do about the carpet stains but a lazy maid might overlook them if the bedding was changed and the sink clean. The plan played over in his mind several times: they would spend the rest of the night there, he would send Arthur out in the morning for fresh clothes and supplies, and they would be on the road and hopefully on their way out of the province before 10:00 am. Normally he wouldn't have stayed even those short eight hours but none of them were in a condition to travel just yet.

Eames returned to the room. Cobb was more or less where he had left him: passed out in bed, fresh bandages wrapping his chest and shoulder. He looked pale but otherwise seemed as comfortable as Eames could make him. Eames checked his pulse again just in case and, finding it strong, looked to Arthur. "Are you all right?"

Arthur didn't answer. He was seated on the second bed, jacket shed and sleeves rolled, his elbows on his knees. Eames moved closer, and when he leaned down to get a look at Arthur's face, was finally noticed.

"Oh." Arthur lifted his head. He also looked a shade paler than normal but his face was calm and alert. "Yes, I'm fine," he said. "How is he?"

"We'll have to find someone to look at him," said Eames, and then before Arthur could complain, "I know, he won't want that. But even if I got all the glass out I'm no surgeon, and he'll need antibiotics." He flashed a grin. "That'll teach him not to plow through windows, hm?"

Arthur let his breath out in a rush. "That's not funny. God, I can't believe I let him talk me into this." He rubbed his face with both hands. "This was a mistake; I should have known better--you should have known better."

"You think I could have stopped him?" Eames said, brow quirked.

"You should have at least tried. We could have done the extraction ourselves--he didn't have to be on site."

"Even in mind crime you have to get your hands dirty," said Eames. "He's lucky to have learned that now, like this, rather than with a bullet."

"Christ, don't--" Arthur shook his head vehemently. "Don't talk like that. He's not even supposed to be here. Just look at him, for God's sake."

Eames glanced back, but he had seen far worse. "He's going to be fine."

"He's not like us," Arthur persisted. "I didn't want this life for him, dodging bullets and switching motels and--"

"Calm down," said Eames.

"--and breaking into minds this way." He scraped his sleeve across his mouth. "And don't tell me to calm down, I'm fine. I'm just--"

Eames crouched down in front of him. "Your hands are shaking."

"No they're..." Arthur glanced down and realized that Eames was right. He curled them into fists. "I'm fine," he said again.

Eames took his wrists, and though Arthur flinched back at first, he allowed Eames to smooth his hands flat again. "You're just in mild shock," Eames said, kneading warmth into Arthur's fingers. "Been a while since one of our jobs went this far south." He smiled. "I haven't seen you move that fast in a while, either."

Arthur sighed, but he didn't have the strength to get worked up again. "I had to," he said, watching Eames' hands moving against his. "When I saw him go through, and then the blood..."

He swallowed hard, and his downcast eyes finally impressed on Eames just how badly he was shaken after all. With a frown Eames stood and urged Arthur back. "Lie down," he instructed. "Just take it easy for a while--no one's going to find us here."

"I'm fine," Arthur grumbled yet again, but he turned, and dropped to his back on the mattress. He didn't even try to fight when Eames sat down close to his hip and began loosening his tie. "Damn, what a night. I tried to make it easy for his first one, I really did."

"I know," Eames said, slipping the tie out from behind Arthur's neck.

He set in on Arthur's shirt buttons, but he only got two in when Arthur went limper still, and his eyes turned up toward the ceiling, unfocused. "Eames," he said quietly. "What are we doing?"

Eames halted with his fingers still tangled in Arthur's shirt. Apprehension prickled up his spine. "What do you mean?"

"This job," Arthur continued. Eames was uncharacteristically at a loss to interpret his weary expression. "This work. All this risk."

Eames sighed, and went back to unbuttoning Arthur's shirt. "Don't tell me a few scrapes have made you soft."

"It's not just a few scrapes--he could have been killed. We all could have been killed."

"So? That's the job." Eames finished with Arthur's shirt, but by then irritation was seeping through him, and he leaned back. "Just get some rest."

Arthur grabbed his sleeve before he could stand. "Do you ever think about going clean?" he asked.

"No," Eames answered immediately, almost involuntarily. "And neither do you. Go to sleep."

"I mean it." Arthur tugged at him, his eyes suddenly hard and insistent. "It wouldn't be that hard. No one knows who we are--hell, I'm not sure I even know your real name. We could--"

"Stop it," Eames interrupted. Something heated and anxious was gnawing at his stomach, and he didn't want to hear Arthur say more. It was a ridiculous notion that deserved no more attention.

But Arthur kept talking. "We could disappear. Look at us--we're so damn talented, we could do anything. Why does it have to be illegal? Between the three of us we could--"

Eames cut him off again with a bitter laugh. "I can't believe I'm hearing this."

"Eames." Arthur at last let him go. "I'm serious."

"And so am I," Eames snapped with sudden vehemence. "I know he's your friend and you're worried about him, but don't act like you're going to throw everything away just to babysit him in some tiny European country, designing shopping malls and...and writing blog software or something, Christ."

Arthur blinked up at him. He looked surprised, and it made Eames sick to his stomach. "This isn't just about me and Cobb," he said, sitting up on his elbows. "I'm saying this for you, too."

"No you're not. What exactly are you proposing I do?" Eames laughed again, every time his voice a little hoarser, a little grimmer. "Are you actually suggesting we 'settle down,' go nine to five? I'll have your dinner waiting when you get home, yeah?"

"Eames, don't be an asshole. I'm just saying--"

"You were right: Cobb's not like us. Because we're criminals." Eames watched Arthur's face fall with every word, but he couldn't stop--there was a fire burning under his skin. He didn't know where it had come from and it frightened him, and there was nothing to do but let it spill out. "We steal from and hurt people. And we don't get to press the reset button because of one bad job, you bloody hypocrite. You didn't say one word about going straight when I took a bullet in Shanghai, did you?"

Arthur squirmed defensively. "That was your foot and you were fine. This is different. Why are you so pissed?"

"Because I can't do what you're asking me," Eames said in frustration. "Without this--" he gestured about their cheap motel room "--without dreaming, you both can go back to your cozy office jobs. But without this I'm just an old con with a handful of cheap tricks. You don't know what I was doing before this, the things--"

"Calm down," said Arthur.

"--I've done that I can't just take back. Going clean isn't an option for me, so don't tell me to calm down when what you're suggesting is--"

"Eames." Arthur sat up and took him by the wrists. "Your hands are shaking."

Eames stared. His hands were shaking, and he couldn't stop staring at them, uncomprehending. Weak laughter spilled off his lips and he shook his head. He didn't know what to say; he hadn't meant to say nearly so much. He was still trying to make sense of it when Arthur's hands skated over his jaw and pulled him into a kiss.

It shouldn't have made everything all right, but when Arthur's lips moved against his, slow and sincere, Eames lost all his heated momentum. He wrapped Arthur up and kissed him back with aching passion. As they sank to the mattress together Eames squeezed his eyes tight, thinking, What you're suggesting is the end of us. If you leave, I'm not going with you. So don't leave.

Arthur thumped onto his back once more, and Eames crawled into bed with him, nestling into his side. "I know," Arthur said, and for a moment Eames tensed with the impossible worry that his thoughts had been aloud. "You're right--I don't really think I could give this up, either. It's just..." He moved his fingertips against the small hairs at the back of Eames' neck. "I guess it just scared me, seeing him like that. I kept thinking about his fucking kids. God." Eames was pressed into Arthur's neck and couldn't see, but he felt Arthur rubbing his face.

Eames closed his eyes. He felt raw and he didn't want to talk about it anymore. "He'll be all right. And if this scares him off, fine. We can help set him up somewhere if that's what he wants."

"Yeah--all right." Arthur stretched, adjusting Eames' weight against him as if preparing to sleep--to Eames' relief. "One of us should keep watch..."

"I will. Just go to sleep, Arthur." Eames gave Arthur's stomach a rub as he pushed up on his elbow. "You're the one doing the driving tomorrow."

Arthur groaned, but his lip quirked as he settled in and his breath evened out. Eames remained still and quiet by his side until he was sure he was asleep. Only then did he crawl carefully out of the bed and grab up a pack of cigarettes.

As soon as they were safely out of the province, they would split up. That had always been the plan, and Eames was convinced more than ever it was the best thing for them. Because whatever that was, it can't happen again, Eames thought, making sure his hands didn't tremor in the slightest as he lit up. This was never supposed to be like that.

He sank into a chair and watched over his two companions until morning.