chesstotem | the one where Arthur is a douche (for thesecurity and <lj site="l

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the one where Arthur is a douche (for thesecurity and <lj site="l

Ariadne was a little surprised, truth be told, at how well her date with Arthur was going - not that she'd thought it would be bad, per se, but she'd expected a bit more awkwardness about the whole thing.

Instead, what she got was Arthur being charming, handsome and just plain nice, talking easily about work and music and wine, while Ariadne chatted about designing and weird architectural details and they compared notes on a few of the cities they'd both been to.

It was still pretty early, but Ariadne had never really been able to hold her alcohol, so she demurred at the bartender's suggestion of another drink.

"We should get out of here before I start stumbling around in these shoes." They were sensible enough shoes, though still pretty new and liable to hurt her feet if she wasn't careful.

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God, if she'd just left Eames out of it.

Arthur's lips were pressed into a tight line and the tops of his ears had started to match the color of her cheeks. "I didn't mean that you're-- I just--" Oh for fuck's sake. "It's not a lie, either. I don't date coworkers," he didn't date anyone, "I have never dated coworkers. If you want this to be some one-night stand, Ariadne, then fine. I'll follow you back and we can pretend it never happened in the morning."

Her own mouth tightened, too, lips pressing together so they wouldn't tremble.

She was a grownup, dammit, she was better than this.

Arthur didn't date coworkers, and he didn't want to have a one-night stand with her, either. So... what else was there to say?

"Fine," she managed, then turned her back on him. She'd walk up the block a ways and hail another cab. A fucking disaster, that's what this was. She wanted it to be over.

"Ariadne--"

He didn't want her to walk away mad, if only because things would be just as awkward tomorrow. Arthur took a few long strides to catch up with her, pulling a hand out of his pocket to touch her elbow. "Please. I don't know what you want from me. You're attractive, I had a good time tonight--I just don't think it's a good idea, being romantically attached to people I'm working a job with."

Dammit. She sniffled. She couldn't help it. Dammit.

"Then why did you agree to go out with me in the first place? All you had to do was say no!" She pulled her elbow out of his grasp and kept walking.

Maybe if Arthur had an ounce of Eames' ease with people (he wouldn't go so far as to call it charm), he'd have followed her, but he just didn't understand what he could possibly say that would extract his foot from his mouth. She obviously didn't want to listen to him and Arthur was thinking that because you backed me into a corner and Eames was being his normal self wouldn't fly by way of a good answer to her question.

So Arthur stood and watched Ariadne walk away before turning around and going back into the bar to drown his anger in whiskey.

It was a good thing he let her walk away, because there basically was nothing else he could say at the moment that would've calmed her down. She was upset, and upset with herself for being upset, and pretty much anything else he said would've just made things worse.

Sniffling again, she hailed another cab. She was so distracted that it took her a moment to remember she had to give the driver the address, and on impulse, instead of directing him to the hotel she was staying at, she gave him the address of a different hotel.

Twenty minutes later, her eyes still a little puffy, Ariadne stepped off the elevator and knocked on a door. "Eames? It's me."

Eames had expected, in his entirely rational way, to have the night entirely free to himself without interruption. It seemed like a good opportunity to take a nice shower and sit around in a fluffy hotel bath robe while reading through files and files of research. While Arthur and Ariadne were getting their freak on, he could distract himself and once again come up on top.

Well, that had been the plan, anyway. He hadn't exactly expected Ariadne to come knocking on his door. It wasn't entirely a surprise, no, but it wasn't part of the plan.

Eames had never had much of a problem with diverting from plans anyway.

Getting up out of his chair, he walked opened the door and gave her a small, understanding smile. "Well that was quick, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Take a wild guess," Ariadne said miserably. She probably should've just gone back to her own hotel, but she wanted company, dammit, and if there was anyone willing to talk smack about Arthur, it was Eames. "You have such astute insights into the human condition, maybe you can tell me why men are such backwards assholes."

In Eames's defense, he only really talked smack about Arthur when Arthur was within earshot or when he was in a particularly foul mood. In reality, he did have more respect and appreciation for the other man than he led others to believe. Still, at this particular moment, he could understand her sentiments exactly. He had, after all, been using work as a distraction.

"Do you want the long answer or the short one? Either way they're both horribly bias."

Slipping past him into the room, she curled herself on the couch without even a by-your-leave, legs tucked underneath her. "I've got all night," she said, staring at her knees.

"He wouldn't go back with me to my hotel. Which is fine," she hastened to add, "but he made it sound like it's because we're coworkers, and then he got pissy and implied that inviting him back with me was..." She waved her hand in the air eloquently. Even as vague as the insinuation had been - more implied in the tone of his voice than the words he'd actually said - it had hurt, coming from Arthur. Thinking that, even for a moment, even angry as he was right then, he'd thought that about her.

That, now that made Eames's eyebrow quirk upwards in judgmental surprise. Really, Arthur. Sitting down next to her, he rested a hand on her knee in an attempt to give some sort of emotional support. "Pissy Arthur, now that's a sight. He'll never admit that he gets like that, I promise you that. What exactly did he say? I can't properly either explain or reject what he did from just your reaction to it, now can I?"

It wasn't that he didn't believe her, that much should have been obvious. No, it was that, depending on what actually happened, it could be very much like Arthur or very much not, and his curiosity easily got the best of him.

"It was more the way he said it," she murmured. "He said he hadn't realized he was signing up for drinks and sex, like..." She shook her head. He'd never been contemptuous of her before, but for a brief moment as he'd said that, he had been.

"He didn't want to go home with me, and he said he doesn't date coworkers, so I can't imagine why he went out with me in the first place if both of those things are true, that's all."

"That may be my fault," Eames admitted sheepishly, patting Ariadne's knee. "I goaded him, which in hindsight might not have been a good idea. I challenged and he stepped up," With a quiet sigh, Eames considered offering Ariadne a drink but decided against it. No, she looked like she had enough. He needed one though, so he went over to the mini fridge and squatted down to grab himself a mini bottle of scotch, then standing and pouring it into a glass for himself.

"The thing about Arthur is that he has a set of standards that, frankly, do make some degree of sense. He just takes it all a bit too far and lacks the tact and subtly needed."

Ariadne huffed a little at Eames' admission. "What he said to me made no sense at all. I had a really good time. I like him." She was a little drunk, which was why she kept talking instead of keeping the next bit to herself. "I wanted to get laid. It's been a while. He said he thinks I'm attractive but he was doing a shit job of acting like it."

Ah, Alcohol. The term social lubricant was both incredibly accurate and entirely incorrect. Eames would say social butter more than lubricant, because it did as much bad as it did good. She was lucky she came to him instead of rattling on to a stranger.

"Ariadne, you're beautiful--and you look especially lovely in that dress. I know for a fact that he finds you attractive, it's his personality that's riddled with flaws. Also keep in mind that he may have a point, underneath all of that failure to communicate." He said as he sat back down next to her, meeting her eyes in the way he did when he wanted people to know--or at least thing--that he was telling the truth.

The alcohol relaxed her enough in his presence that she didn't have a problem pulling off her shoes - the straps were starting to hurt, a little.

"Thank you," she said in response to his compliment. "I know he - he didn't mean it like that, and he didn't have to sleep with me, but all he had to say was that he wants to take it slow, or something like that.

Why did he have to say, 'we're coworkers' like that makes any difference at all. Like it made any difference with you."

Eames made a wincing face at the suggestion of Arthur wanting to take it slow, because that hadn't been what he meant at all. He knew Arthur well enough, knew how he approached relationships with other people well enough to make an estimate, and that was not where his mind went. "I can't speak for Arthur, but I don't think taking it slow is exactly the issue here."

Taking another sip of his scotch, he leaned back into the couch, making himself more comfortable as he continued. "The difference is that Arthur and I have never, in any context, gone on a date. It's purely physical," He had been telling himself that lie all day, but it was enough of a truth to pass as one.

She gave a heavy sigh. "Doesn't that make it worse? If he would normally be inclined to... Wait, you're still sleeping together?"

When Eames had said that the sexual tension with Arthur was resolved, Ariadne had assumed he meant that they had slept together once or twice, at some point in the nebulous past.

"You're putting words in my mouth, Ariadne. You might want to refrain from doing that," Still, that wasn't a denial. That would be a lie, and he wasn't so much in the habit of lying as bending the truth. Which, coincidentally, was what he was currently doing.

Edited 2010-09-14 00:03 (UTC)

"Don't, just..." She wasn't stupid. Even if Arthur wasn't deliberately stringing her along, whatever he was doing was pretty assholish. And Ariadne hadn't even gotten any sex out of the bargain. He could've at least fucked her before making her feel like crap.

Eames would've.

That was why she did it, she supposed. Because she was frustrated, and Arthur had made her feel like crap, while Eames was here, making her feel better. And if Arthur could do it, well.

Ariadne was a little drunk, too. So it was easy, really easy, to shift around, leaning into Eames' warmth as she pressed her lips to his.

Eames did not kiss back. This wasn't a romance novel, where the universe would work it's magic and Eames would be swept up in a sudden passion. He was easy, sure, but not that easy. Now, he was more confused than anything else. When Ariadne pulled away he just looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

"I'm not Arthur, Ariadne. What are you trying to achieve?"

"I know who you are." There wasn't any hesitation in her voice. "I don't want a substitute, I just... want."

She'd be kidding herself if she didn't admit to fantasizing about Eames, once in a while. And he was here, and Arthur was an asshole, and she wanted to get laid, dammit.

To say that Eames wasn't interested would be a lie. Ariadne was beautiful. She wasn't the type of woman he usually fucked and ran away from. She was the type of woman he could fall in love with if he let himself, which he never would. No, that was something he kept a tight lock on, never getting close enough for that. Still, the fact still stood true, Eames was not uninterested.

But that didn't mean he wasn't cautious.

"If you want a connection, you're not going to get it from me."

Ariadne made a sound in the back of her throat that was half-exasperated, half-amused. "I'm not stupid, Eames. Just horny." And possibly out for a little revenge, if she was being really honest with herself.

And Eames was sexy.

She straddled his lap, not caring how her dress bunched up around her thighs as she did so.

Well. That was something else entirely, wasn't it? On one hand, he knew this was a bad idea. This would not end well, not with a mildly intoxicated coworker who had a thing for the man he found himself currently infatuated with. No, this could not possibly end well. Still, who was he to deny something put so clearly?

Shit, he was a hypocrite. Arthur was going to murder him anyway, so what was the harm?

"Alright," He said as he glanced down at Ariadne's lace panties and shifted upwards, burying a hand in her hair and pulling her into a kiss.

the one where Arthur is a douche (for thesecurity and <lj site="l

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