Pairing(s): Eames/ Arthur
Summary: Arthur and Eames are married with a daughter, a dog and a practically perfect life, all of that stuff. They have very few secrets between then...or so Eames thinks, not knowing about the job that Arthur has. And then some.
Genre(s): AU, romance, est-rel, family/ domesticity, fluff, MPreg, eventual dark/ tragedy.
Warning(s): MPreg, violence, language, self-beta’d, British spelling and slang.
Rating: PG-13 (language)
Word count: 1, 121
Disclaimer: Characters sprung from le mind of Christopher Nolan. Allie, however, is mine.
Author’s Note: I'm a terrible person and need to watch Clash of the Titans (2010) over and over again until I learn to update properly. Actually, the only thing I learned from that film was that Sam Worthington is a really shit actor and Liam Neeson will do anything for money. Anyway, read and please enjoy and argh I don't know. This chapter was brought to you by Oestrogen, Progesterone and Testosterone. All my own. HEY THAT RHYMED! ~Mika
Two months later
“Well? Any sign?”
Arthur peeled back a corner of the curtain, squinting as he surveyed the street outside. “Not that I can see.” He sighed, dropping the corner and turning to face the heavily pregnant Englishman. “Eames…We really should have moved if this guy – ”
“And uproot Allie again?” was what Eames retorted with. He sighed, shifting on the sofa. “‘Sides, there’s only two weeks until these two arrive. It’d take longer than that for us to even find a place, let alone to move in and settle…”
“Alright. Alright.” Holding up his hands in surrender, Arthur wandered back over to the sofa, gracefully plonking himself down. Eames felt a surge of irrational irritation at his husband; at the lithe grace he permanently possessed, when Eames had been waddling most ungracefully since his fifteenth week, for God’s sake. This was nearly four months ago.
“Hey! No fighting in there!” he snapped, as a hive of activity suddenly exploded in his stomach. As usual, the twins ignored him in favour of thumping his spine, his kidneys, his bladder or (he could only guess at this) each other.
“Taking after their Daddy E, then,”
Eames rolled his eyes.
“I think it’s kind of endearing,” Arthur said lightly, running his fingers over Eames’ distended stomach.
“You’re not the one carrying these two, though,” Eames grumbled. “They must be boys; they’ve caused me so much trouble.”
“Hmmm,” was all Arthur said to that, reaching over and nuzzling his husband’s belly.
Eames threaded his fingers through the American’s hair. “You really love doing that, don’t you? You daft tosser,”
Arthur chuckled. “Yeah, but I’m your daft tosser.”
“I suppose so. Also, ‘daft tosser’ sounds funny in your accent. In the most endearing way possible, of course,”
Arthur raised his head to blow a raspberry before pushing himself off the sofa and on his feet in a series of fluid movements.
“Right. ‘m just gonna go get Allie back from Dom, then. Assuming he hasn’t introduced her to dreamsharing and got her involved in an accident of some sort – ”
“He won’t, Arthur.”
“You saying that for my sake or yours?”
“Our sake, darling.”
Arthur knelt, instantly remorseful. “‘m sorry,”
Eames frowned. “You? Apologetic? Who are you and what have you done with my husband?”
A faint smile crossed the other man’s face. “I’ll see you soon, ‘kay? Meanwhile, try not to OD on anxiety,”
Eames made a disgruntled noise. “Could you pass me the remote, please?”
Arthur did so, pressing his lips close to the other man’s ear in the process. “You know I only put up with you because I fucking love you and we have a kick-ass daughter together, right? And we’re gonna have a couple more kick-ass kids. Any other reason and – ”
“You’d kick my arse to the kerb within minutes,” Eames swiftly finished. “I did rather get that impression, darling. I love you too.”
“I know.” Arthur squeezed the other man’s hand, straightened up and left the house, grabbing his keys on the way out.
“Allie, you ready?”
“Yes, Uncle Dom!”
“Okay then.” Cobb took a deep breath. “Your Daddy A is coming to pick you up, okay?”
“How do you know that?”
“He phoned me, little one.”
“Oh.” Allie fell silent for a minute. “Mama usually comes to pick me up,”
Dom frowned. “Mama?”
“Yeah. You know Mama.”
Dom could practically see the cogs turning in the five-year old’s head as she struggled to explain.
“Mama’s not Daddy A,”
“Oh!” The blonde understood. “Mama’s Daddy E?”
Allie nodded sagely. “Yeah. ‘Cause mummies have babies, and Daddy E’s having babies, so I thought he should be my mummy,”
Oh God, she’s got Arthur’s logic. “Y-yeah, I guess so…” he said faintly.
Just then, the doorbell rang, saving him from having to form a more convincing response. Motioning for his goddaughter to stay where she was, he straightened up and strode over to the door, opening it a crack and peering through it.
“Say, Allie, you’ve grown some. And changed gender. And gone blonde,”
“Daddeeeeeeeeeeee!” a little voice shrieked, zooming around Dom and colliding with Arthur’s legs.
Arthur chuckled a hello, smoothing Allie’s hair. “She been good?”
“Total angel. You sure she’s yours and Eames’?”
Arthur chuckled again, but it was without humour. Dom picked up on this, discomfort seeping through him.
“Anyway, I’d better let you guys go.” The blonde cleared his throat. “How’s Eames doing, by the way?”
“Oh, you know.” Arthur swallowed. “Huge. Hormonal. Eight months pregnant with twins.”
Dom nodded, gaze averted to the side. “Well, send my…regards. And, uh, Allie’s welcome back round anytime. You know that,”
Arthur nodded stiffly. “I know.” Eames still doesn’t want Allie around you, though.
“Daddy, you’re hurting me,” Allie whimpered, bringing her father’s attention back to reality. Her hair was smooth; he was pulling on it now, his grip tight on the dark strands.
“Sorry, darling.” Arthur crouched at her level, kissing the sore roots. “I didn’t mean to, okay?” He cupped her face, smiling. “Let’s go see Daddy E,”
Allie looked at him in surprise as she took her father’s hand. “He didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what?” Arthur asked as they walked back to the car.
Allie sighed, as if her father was stupid. “Don’t worry. I’ll let Mama tell you when we get home,”
Mama? Arthur thought to himself, starting the car. That truly was something Eames would have to explain to him once they got home.
Fucking hell, Arthur, did you forget your keys again? Eames thought, stretching his legs for the fifth time in that hour. After the pre-eclampsia scare of last month, Arthur’s insistence on Eames taking care of himself – or him taking care of Eames, when he was in the house – had trebled, practically insisting the man take small walks around the house at minimum. It was pretty restrained for Arthur to only be trebly worried about Eames in the context of that time.
The doorbell went again.
Sighing, Eames hauled himself up, arm around his huge stomach as he manoeuvred his way to the door, building up an Arthur-directed rant about keys and their necessity because hello, we’re still in the dream sharing industry even if we no longer work together as he went. It seemed to take forever, and it didn’t help that the thermometer by the door hovered around the twenty-eight Celsius level, pushing him towards giving into the urge to completely strip off.
Suppressing that urge, he opened the door, expecting Arthur, only to find a familiar man – and an equally familiar gun – both staring at him.
“Hello, Tuomas,” the Finn said.
Eames rolled his eyes. “Oh fucking hell, not you again.”
- Current Location:Home, UK
- Emotion: tired
- Current Ear Tones:"Since U Been Gone" - Kelly Clarkson