specification | Where do we go from here?

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Where do we go from here? - for ingeniously

The job was done.

Inception was done and fuck -- from what he could tell, it had gone successfully.

So far.

Cobb had gone through customs with not so much as a blink and left with his father-in-law to his kids. Fischer Jr had left a little after that and Ariadne was heading back to Paris to return to her classes and studies. Arthur loaded the PASIV onto his luggage cart and looked around, spotting Eames standing near a pillar.

Throughout the planning stages of the job, they had been snarky, condescending (to a certain degree), and on just this side of antagonistic. It was after he found out that there was a very real possibility that they could be shot down to limbo that Arthur mentally backtracked for a split second and thought about Eames -- thought about that night and thought about what they haven't discussed yet. When Eames called him 'darling' down in the first level in what he was sure was a condescending manner, Arthur found himself wanting to say something. But, he didn't. Eames was striding away after he took his shot.

When they were on the second level and everyone was hooking themselves in, who he should have helped was Ariadne but Arthur found himself kneeling down next to Eames and helping him with his lead, giving him a quirk of his lips. Everything could be shot to hell in a matter of seconds/minutes/hours and he could feel himself wanting that lasting touch, just in case.

They couldn't risk talking in public no matter if Robert and Cobb had gone, still -- he felt ready to talk to the other man about what happened months ago. About where this left them -- if it left them anywhere.

Eames had mated with him. Well...to be fair, his wolf had mated with him and that meant something according to his research. Something that couldn't exactly be ignored. As he made his way out of the airport with his luggage, Arthur pulled out his phone and sent a quick text to Eames.

If you're not heading anywhere quick, meet me at the Renaissance hotel nearby? We can talk.

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The job had been a trial, in many ways. Having Arthur so close, and yet being irritated with him for what he had done, acting so foolishly. A mix of emotions that he felt towards Arthur, concern and irritation and anger and more if he let himself think about it.

And then the stakes were much, much higher and he wanted to think it was Arthur's fault but it wasn't the security would have been an inconvenience at best if Cobb hadn't lied to them all.

Arthur approaching him on the second level had been a surprise - but slightly delightful with the way he told him to go to sleep.

His phone buzzed with a text as he waited for his luggage and he pulled it out, surprised and yet not to see it was from Arthur. An offer to talk.

He knew exactly about what. But he supposed Arthur deserved an explanation.

give me a bit to find a hotel and ill stop by

Arthur was settled in a taxi that would take him to the hotel near by when he got the response. Taking his phone out of his suit jacket, Arthur read over it before sending a response back.

Okay - text me and we can meet in the bar or I'll give you my room number.

He pocketed the phone again and settled into the short car ride over to the hotel. He hadn't planned for anything more yet. All Arthur knew was that he would stay in Los Angeles for a couple of days, check in with Cobb and the kids and go on his way. So far, he didn't have another job and in all likelihood he would head back to New York after this was said and done and catch up with a few people until the next job came his way.

Unless, of course, something came from this talk.

Eames huffed to himself, picking up his suitcase when it arrived and then leaving, choosing to hail a taxi rather than have one waiting. He hadn't been entirely sure he wouldn't be arrested stepping off the plane.

But he hadn't, so here he was.

He directed the taxi to a nearby hotel - a simple Best Western, but Eames didn't need more than that - and then texted Arthur.

Bar seems like a neutral option. People aren't in the habit of listening in too much if you don't seem interesting.

The bar it is. Thirty minutes?

Either way didn't really matter to Arthur. While he felt as though he was standing on a precipice, wanting to have this conversation and also dreading this conversation, he also knew the one fact was that he had the time and he had the nerve.

He had been stupid to follow Eames that night. He should have turned around at some point down that deserted dirt path instead of stopping and watching and... Arthur frowned and rubbed at the back of his neck. Eames hadn't been exactly in his right mind at the time and Arthur knew that had he been aware, he wouldn't have let it get to where it did. It had been a rough job, not because it was Inception but because Eames had been there and there was so much there between them that was unsaid.

Sure. See you there.

Eames changed his outfit into something else - exchanging black pants for linen dark blue ones, his black shirt for a forest green one, edged with gold, and then headed back out, after a quick shower.

He found his way to the Renaissance hotel's bar, smiling amiably enough at the people as he walked in. He ordered a scotch, neat, and then sat to wait for Arthur.

Arthur took the time for a quick shower, washing the scent of airplane off of him before drying off and changing into a fresh pair of slacks and pinstriped button downshirt. He forewent a tie and jacket and slipped on a pair of shoes. He made sure he had his wallet and room key on him before leaving his room and heading downstairs to the bar. He found the forger easily enough after a look around the bar and made his way over to him after ordering a scotch for himself.

He inhaled slowly before he took a seat. "Evening, Mr. Eames," he said, taking a sip of his drink before setting it down.

Eames scented the air when he heard Arthur approach - even before he could see him, catching the cadence of his footsteps. He smelled clean, the acrid tang of soap, and beneath that the faint scent of musty plane (even the nice ones were) and Arthur.

"Evening, Arthur," He replied evenly, swirling his drink around in it's glass before he looked at him. "Nervous?"

He thought about lying through his teeth that no, in fact, he wasn't nervous. But fact was, he was a little nervous and with his luck, Eames would be able to tell, in some way, that he was. "A little," he admitted. It wasn't that he was nervous to be around Eames - he performed Inception with him, had worked with him for the last couple of months -- it wasn't the man. It was -- it was this conversation and remembering the night and the wolf.

"I don't suppose you are," he said, looking at him. The forger never seemed to be nervous about anything.

"I am, actually," Eames said, taking a sip of his drink and then licking his lips. "You hold a great deal of leverage over me, Arthur. Even if you don't think it's worth anything to the rest of the world, there are those who would listen and use it to hurt me."

He said it bluntly, plainly, looking Arthur right in the eyes as he spoke.

Admittedly, Arthur hadn't expected that. He sat there silent for a good minute and blinked. Despite how he may feel about what happened, he couldn't imagine telling anyone about Eames' alter. Nor would he want to ever tell someone. "I haven't told anyone nor do I plan to tell anyone, Mr. Eames," he said, looking Eames right in the eye as he said it.

Eames was the one who in turn looked slightly stunned. "Thank you," He said after a moment, meaning it. "I don't want to end up a set of teeth mounted as a trophy."

"I am... sorry for what happened," He admitted. "I have no control on those nights, elsewise I would not have attacked you."

The fact that Eames looked stunned when Arthur said he didn't plan to rat him out made him frown. "Did you really think I would rat you out to someone?" He supposed you couldn't be too careful but still -- there were some lines that even Arthur didn't cross and he wasn't the sort to do that to the forger. Especially since he was one of the few who really did know what the hell they were doing.

Now it was Arthur's turn to look down at his glass of scotch and take a sip of it. He sat it back down as he licked his lips. His research had said as much, from what little and what myth he could find out. "I figured you didn't," he said in response to the part about having no control. Arthur didn't think Eames would be prone to attacking anyone like that otherwise. "I shouldn't have followed you," he said. "One of the times my curiosity (also known as worry in Arthur's world) got the best of me."

"I wasn't sure, given what I did," Eames said plainly, sipping his drink slowly as he listened.

"You had no clue what was going on. You didn't deserve to be attacked for your curiosity," Eames pointed out, scratching his fingers along the surface of the bar. "And for what it is worth I am sorry."

Arthur nodded. That made sense.

"No, it doesn't," he agreed. He nodded and watched the forger and his actions. "Thank you," he said, fingering his drink, turning it around on the table absently. He stayed silent for a moment, considering the words that passed through them. "I did some research about it...I didn't find much, obviously, but I did read something that I've wondered about." The knotting. The mating. Did that count when it came to humans?

"What piqued your curiosity? The least I can do is answer your questions as best I can," Eames said, leaning back in his seat and sighing slightly.

"When you knotted with me," he said, straight forward as can be, looking at him. It had to have been one of the messiest and one of the most uncomfortable times he's had -- he had been so stretched out around his cock that... no, he wasn't going to think about it.

"From what I read, it was a way to mate with me."

Eames bites his cheek. "You do like the hard ones," Eames replied. "I had to research that as well. I don't generally go around fucking anyone like that, but yes, it seemed like I was trying to mate you. It's the first time I've done that, with anyone. I've had sex as a human and it hasn't happened."

Arthur shrugged a shoulder. It was in his repertoire to ask and get the hard facts, at least normally. He nodded silently and thought over what he was saying. It made sense, if their research had anything to say about it - it wouldn't have happened with anyone else. Wolves mated to one person -- so so he read.

He nodded in understanding. Arthur wasn't sure where this left them though. If it left them anywhere. "So then, is it safe to say neither of us know what that really means when it comes down to it?"

"Safe enough," Eames sighs. "It's not as if I want to go fucking other people, as a wolf or otherwise, to find out."

Arthur watched him and sighed softly before taking a sip from his drink. "You didn't hurt me...too badly," he said, his voice lowering a little at the admission. "At least, not as bad as one might expect." He could have been bleeding, could have been bitten or mauled so he'd count that as a good thing.

"I may not have injured you, don't you dare tell me I didn't hurt you," Eames it out. "I've prided myself on not harming people when I've become this thing. That it was you -"

Well, if he had killed Arthur, Eames wasn't sure what he would have done with himself.

Arthur stayed silent for a long minute as he stared down at his glass of scotch. Eames had hurt him that night, that much was certainly true. It had taken him a couple of days at least to get over the worst of the pain. "You did. You could have also killed me or bitten me but you didn't," he said, raising his gaze to Eames'.

He had been close and Arthur knew that. He remembered the feel of his mouth against the back of his neck and how easily Eames could have bitten down. Arthur was just glad to be here. Alive. And in one piece - mentally and physically speaking.

Arthur wasn't planning on telling anyone Eames' secret - it wasn't exactly something that you just tell anyone. While he did have mostly questionable morals, there were some things that he just didn't do and something like this was one of them. "That it was me...?"

"I was too focused on fucking you to kill you," Eames said. He remembered the feeling of distinctly not wanting to hurt Arthur, but that didn't mean he didn't feel like he had endangered him.

"That it was you I hurt just makes it worse," Eames shrugs.

He tilted his head in acknowledgement. To be frank -- he was a thankful for that. He liked being alive. He could move on and adjust from what happened but if he had died that night -- that would have been it. "This is going to sound a little weird but I'm glad for that," he admitted.

There was still a part of himself that knew he shouldn't have followed Eames that night. But if he had to do it all over again? He would probably do the same thing. Not because he was a sucker for punishment or because it had been particularly good but because he had been worried about Eames and that wouldn't change. Perhaps he was still in shock? The last two years of his life had been to try and get Cobb back home to his children and as such, it had been job to job -- anything to get him back home and Arthur had had a mission. Now -- he wouldn't have that. He'd still have jobs but they were based on whether he wanted to take them or not, not because it would be the stepping stone to something else.

He realized he had been silent for a little too long before he picked up his glass and took a longer drink. "I'm fine - I healed," he said. Physically speaking he did. Mentally -- Arthur liked to think he was fine mentally as well.

Eames didn't say anything to that, merely finishing off his drink. "I can see that. It doesn't help me, but I'm glad you're okay," he said, setting his drink down and indicating to the bartender for another.

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