comment_fic 566-570: Inception, Supernatural, Supernatural/Leverage

[tigriswolf]

Title: dreamers have no place in war
Fandom: Inception
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: slightly dark
Pairings: Arthur/Ariadne
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 285
Point of view: third
Prompt: Inception, Ariadne/Arthur, she's not used to having enemies

 

People have always been fond of Ariadne. She's tiny and cute, and she knows it. Most days, she even likes it.

But she's a criminal now, and not at all a femme fatale. She's more like the femme fatale's adorable little sister, the one that even bad guys can't bring themselves to hurt.

Eames has taught her how to work what she does have. Arthur gave her lessons about knives and guns and making every hit count, using strength against her attackers, because there was almost no way anyone smaller than her would be involved in any struggle.

All of them, even Cobb and Yusuf, have given her a list of known enemies. People to watch out for, if she's staying in this business. People they had better not catch her working with.

In this business, there are people who will kill her. Not because of anything she's done, or who she is —but because of her team. Because of Cobb, of Eames, of Saito.

Because of Arthur.

Because they are the best, and have left broken people in their wake, and she'd known Arthur was dangerous from the moment they met. But to see it writ plainly on white paper is… so final.

This is your life now, Arthur told her, demonstrating the proper way to use a butter knife to gut a man. You need to be prepared for every eventuality.

She kisses him, sometimes, and expects a blade across her throat. She wonders how long until he leaves her behind as a liability—or kills her so she doesn't become one.

Architects, even good ones, are a dime a dozen in this business, and Arthur is the best at what he does.
 

 

Title: Your kisses turbulent, unspent to warm me
Fandom: Inception
Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Georgia Douglas Johnson
Warnings: takes place after movie; character death
Pairings: Arthur/Eames
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 385
Point of view: third
Prompt: Author's Choice, Author's Choice, 'I want to die while you love me' (Poem by Georgia Douglas Johnson)

 

Eames lives with a ferocity Arthur can't help but admire. He himself has refrained from letting go for so long he's nearly forgotten what being free is like.

After the Fischer job, Eames lingers by Arthur in the airport and cajoles, "Come out with me. I've never been in the City of Angels before; show me what's fun here."

Arthur scoffs. "You were here six months ago, Mr. Eames." He smirks when he adds, "You are a bit of a demon, though."

It's not the first time they've gone out together. A couple of drinks, a light supper, and then a room for the night; in the morning, they'll go their separate ways again.

It'll be a year before they team up once more. They'll be betrayed on that job, by the architect and extractor, and Arthur will have a moment to decide between saving himself or Eames, as Eames bleeds out in the real world and Arthur has a chance to escape unburdened.

The architect will be dying while Arthur decides and he'll kill the extractor on the way out, Eames stumbling beside him, leaning heavily against him.

"Eames, Eames, stay with me," Arthur will say. "Think of all the things you haven't done yet."

Their pursuers will be close; Arthur will shove Eames shotgun of a stolen car and break all traffic laws on the way to a safe house. He'll call in half a dozen favors and Saito, leave Eames in the care of Saito's choice of physician, and not kiss him goodbye when he goes.

Arthur knows who footed the bill for the bad decision that left their profession two short; Arthur has no patience for those who are suicidal enough to hurt his loved ones.

He never has told Eames, but he's pretty sure Eames knows.

Eames will come to in a strange room with a strange woman looming over him. Once he understands, he'll curse Arthur and rant into his voicemail. He'll stay in the safe house for a week, and as the seventh day turns into the eighth, he'll realize that Arthur will never return.

"You stubborn fucker," Eames will murmur. "We coulda gone after 'em together, love."

Eames will thank Saito for the doctoring, pull out the notebook of information Arthur hid away, and follow Arthur's footsteps.

Title: Of Ground, or Air, or Ought
Fandom: Inception
Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Dickinson
Warnings: AU; crackish
Pairings: Arthur/Eames
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 260
Point of view: third
Prompt: Inception, Arthur/Eames, Superhero AU

 

"Arthur," Dom sighs, sinking down onto the couch. "Please. Deal with that... that..." He can't even find a word to describe the villain currently headlining the news. Villain isn't even the right word.

Arthur's back is ramrod straight, but he won't meet Dom's eyes. "I've done all I can," he says calmly.

Yeah, that's a lie. Dom doesn't even need his mother's lasso to know it.

"Arthur," he says again.

Outside, the buffoon is clearly back, if the screaming is anything to go by. And the laughter. Goddamnit.

"Please!" Dom yells, so tired of this. "He only wants your attention, Arthur."

Arthur closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and tosses himself out the window.

0o0

A month later, Arthur returns. A man about his height follows him into Headquarters; he's broader than Arthur (and Dom, but don't mention that), and rough around the edges, and his smile is as sharp as Arthur's wit when he hasn't had enough sleep.

"Dom," Arthur says, "this is Eames. Eames, this is Dom."

"Charmed," Eames says. He adds, "I'm sure," with a different accent.

Arthur cuffs him across the back of the head. "Same shape all day, Eames," he hisses.

Eames' grin is cajoling. "But 's'boring!" he whines, in a third accent.

"And I'll make it worth your while," Arthur mutters. Dom will pretend forever he didn't hear that.

"Well," Eames says loudly, clapping his hands, back to the first accent. "Why don't you gents show me how a proper hero saves the day, yeah?"

Dom... honestly isn't sure this will be any better. Goddamnit.

 

 

Title: lain sleepless with rage
Fandom: Supernatural
Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Adrienne Rich
Warnings: AUish; takes place during Mystery Spot; spoilers for season 5
Pairings: shades of Michael/Gabriel and Lucifer/Michael
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 135
Point of view: third
Prompt: Supernatural, Gabriel/Michael, Mystery Spot was not about Sam. It was about Gabriel trying to kill Dean in order to make a fucking point and Michael reviving him every goddammed morning.

"Mikey!" Gabriel yells. "For Father's sake, you douchenozzle, what the fuck are you doing?"

"Dean has a purpose, brother," Michael says solemnly, in that some tone Gabriel remembers from Heaven. He despised it then, too.

"And that's why I'm trying to get rid of him!" Gabriel hissed. "Don't you see? With him gone, you won't have a vessel and the world won't end."

Michael's giving him the goddamned sad-eyes. Gabriel loathes the sad-eyes. "Without Dean, Sam won't find redemption," Michael tells him gently. "Without Sam's redemption, Lucifer will never come home to us."

Gabriel sighs. "Mikey," he replies, equally soft, "Lucifer's gone. He's been gone a long time."

"But so were you!" Michael says. "And you came back."

Gabriel slumps down. "I'm still killing Dean tomorrow," he mutters.

"And I will still revive him," Michael says.

 

 

 

Title: in my mind's graveyard, I am laying flowers at your unmarked feet
Fandom: Leverage/Supernatural
Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Betsy Sholl
Warnings: spoilers for season 6; bitter AU
Pairings: past-Dean/Eliot; past-Dean/Lisa
Rating: PG13
Wordcount: 560
Point of view: third
Prompt: Leverage/Supernatural, Team Leverage + Dean, AU after 5x22, Dean leaves Lisa's almost right away in spite of his promise to Sam, and the Leverage crew finds itself with an extra Hitter.

 

Dean just needs to hit something. All the time. And he promised Sam he'd get out of hunting, go to Lisa and live his fucking apple pie happily ever after. He'll do one of the three, and he'll be fucking pissed about it.

He hasn't talked to Eliot since that time in the place with the thing, but he really needs to fuck something all to h—up, and Eliot always knows where there's a fight.

And Eliot tells him, voice rough through the phone, that he could use some help watching his team's back, since there's a bigass target painted on 'em now, so Dean signs up.

There's nothing supernatural about it. No angels or demons or hellpits swallowing baby brothers. Just douchebags he can break all to pieces, and it feels so good. They just point him in the right direction and get out of his way, and he doesn't have to make decisions or ask questions. Just his fists, and knives, and every now and then a gun, because Eliot still hates them, but sometimes it's the only way out.

For a year, he's not happy, not even close. Not content. But he's living. Nobody can ask for more than that.

Eliot's been giving him worried looks since he first got brought on board, but none of the rest of them, Eliot's makeshift family who don't have a clue about that time in the place with the thing, know how to even begin to tell that Dean's more broken than Parker. (He wonders about her sometimes, but he just doesn't have it in him to ask anymore.) But Eliot won't start that conversation (Sammy wasn't there for that time in the place with the thing. Sammy isn't here now. Half a dozen goons go down hard and won't ever be getting up.) and Dean doesn't care about anything but the ache in his fists and the twist of a blade and how his gun jerks in his grip.

He's so very broken, and he won't kill himself, but he'll sure as fuck let himself die.

And finally, finally, after a year of looking for Death and his white ring of hellpits, Eliot slams Dean into a wall and demands, "What the fuck have you been doin'?"

Dean scoffs and shoves him away, saying, "You care now?"

Eliot grabs him again, pushes him back against the wall. "This is my team, you bastard. You can't keep half-assin' things! You'll get 'em killed."

Dean just sneers. "You want me gone, let me know, Spencer."

Eliot pulls back, looks at him. Says quietly, "I want you gone."

He doesn't tell anyone goodbye.

If possible, things get worse. This time, no one's there to watch his back. He's wanted a dozen places for things he actually did this time. Castiel shows up once to reprimand him for disgracing himself this way, spitting on his second chance. (More like his fiftieth chance, but what's the point in counting anymore?) Dean just keeps sharpening his knives.

And then he's on the losing end of a fight with a djinn of all the damn things, and he's barely trying, and maybe he'll finally be able to die and nothing will bring him back.

And then there's Sam. Dean lets himself fall back, spread out on a dirty floor, and he laughs and laughs.

 

Comments

[tigriswolf]

Thank you so very much! I did have fun with the superhero one.

And the last drabble. Yeah. Bitter&angry!Dean was interesting to write.