InsaneJournal

Who: Ariadne and Arthur
What: Arthur feels the need to make sure Ariadne is feeling ok.
Where: Their apartment
When: Backdated to when Ariadne was sick
Rating: PG-ish?
Status: Complete


This wasn't how she had pictured spending her evening. When Ariadne woke up feeling like her eyes were full of sand, her head full of hammers, and her lungs full of aspic, she had expected to spend the whole day in bed. The whole week, actually, if Eames had been anything to go by. She'd wondered in a moment of lucidity between fitful sleep and snatches of wakefulness whether he and Arthur would drag Morpheus into one of her fever dreams as well. But mostly she had wished for oblivion.

Instead, through the help of a solicitous mage who looked uncannily like Morgana, she was feeling... fine. A bit strange, still a bit worn out, but mostly she felt okay. And that was an unexpected blessing. She felt even better after a shower, feeling as if she'd washed the lingering dregs of the illness down the drain along with the sweat from her fever.

And now she sat on the couch, feeling a bit at loose ends. One of her sketch pads was balanced on the arm of the couch as she drummed a pencil on the page rather than actually drawing anything. Her hair had dried into a cloud of curls that were more unruly than usual, but she paid them no mind.

When the healer arrived Arthur didn’t let the woman move an inch without him knowing about it. He hovered like an old hen, making sure his chick (no pun intended) was taken well care of. He eventually walked the woman out, thanking her before moving to his own room to change for bed.

Once he knew Ariadne had settled down, he headed out into the living room to meet her. Rounding the little corner from his bedroom door into the large living space, he was sporting a genuine smile on his face. It was brilliant to see her looking better. The last thing he’d wanted to do was take care of two patients. Seeing her settling in was a nice change.

Taking the seat next to her, Arthur couldn’t keep his hands to himself. His hand reached out, fingertips slipping a few curls back behind her ear, “You don’t feel like you’re burning up anymore.” His fingertips curled around the shell of her ear before finding their way back into his lap.

Ariadne looked up and smiled back, eyes closing briefly at the stroke of his fingers over her ear. Their odd little argument the other night seemed to have been forgotten in the wake of their unusual experiences in Eames's dream and her own rapid descent into sickness. "I feel much better, actually," she said, turning towards him and tucking the pencil into the spiral wire of the notebook. "Just kind of tired, but that's it. I feel... normal." Even if the same term couldn't be used to describe how things were between them, it fit there. Now all she had to worry about was whether Arthur was going to suddenly freeze up again, those walls going up as if he was an architect himself.

Arthur wasn’t known for being the “touchy feely” type, but he had his moments. Ariadne wouldn’t be able to miss the signs as he slipped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her over, his nose pressing to her crown once she was close enough. “I’m glad to see you’re feeling better. You both have had me worried out of my head. The shit you two put me through should have killed me ages ago.”

Smiling against her soft, sweet smelling hair, Arthur pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head. “Are you sleepy tired? Or just tired tired?” Though Ariadne couldn’t see it, Arthur was smiling.

Her smile curved towards a smirk at his comment. "We were just sick, Arthur. That barely counts on the scale of dangerous things you've seen, inside or outside of dreams." And really, what had she been through in reality back home? Some clandestine meetings and a few flights around the world, Paris to Sydney to Los Angeles. Arthur didn't remember the zombie apocalypse, and he hadn't been here for the Toclafane. And why was she thinking about this when he was cuddling her close and almost nuzzling her hair?

"Just tired tired, I think," she said, shifting slightly to lean against him more. "Is there a difference?"

“Difference being are you ready to sleep,” he practically whispered the words while he leaned into her. “Like you could go to sleep right this moment if you had to.” Arthur’s fingers were gently tangling themselves in her hair. “Because I’m tired too.”

Arthur was confessing to weakness? This relationship was endlessly surprising. "Mm. Honestly? I could." She let her hand steal over his stomach, wrapping her arm around him loosely. "But going to bed would require moving. And I don't really want to sleep on the couch. I should probably change my sheets, though, they're all gross."

He’d been toying with the idea for a while despite his own personal reservations. But he was far too tired and moreover too concerned not to want to follow through. “Don’t worry about it.”

With that, Arthur lifted Ariadne, carrying her into his room without another word and laid her down on the bed. Crawling in next to her, Arthur slipped in under the covers beside her, turning her body away from his. Obviously, Arthur had never been the outwardly affectionate type, but he had his moments, though they were usually brief. This however, was different. He moved himself onto his side before pulling Ariadne back against his chest, his arm moving around her side to settle down against her stomach. He wanted to stay close. Close enough to make sure she’d be safe, at least for tonight.

Arthur and Eames really seemed to enjoy taking advantage of Ariadne's very small stature. Sometimes it was irritating, given her inability to reciprocate or retaliate. Right now, though, when she was completely worn out, it was awfully convenient. And awfully sweet, she had to admit to herself, sweeter than she would have expected. Maybe it was just another expression of his fondness for efficiency and straightforwardness. Maybe not, given that he didn't tuck her into her own bed but brought her to his room and set about making sure she would never want to get up.

Ariadne's hand came up to rest over Arthur's where it rested against her stomach, lacing her fingers with his. "Do you still dream? Without the PASIV?" she asked suddenly. It was a question she'd wondered about for a while, but hadn't had the nerve to ask. But now that he'd welcomed her into his bed and was spooning her as if it were the most natural thing in the world, well, she felt it was safe.

If Ariadne could see his face, she’d have already known the answer. A soft, sad smile had crept onto Arthur’s lips. His voice even reflected the dissatisfaction of his answer, “No, I stopped dreaming a while back. I can actually remember it too. The dream. It was vivid enough that it stuck out in my mind as odd. I was having tea with Mal at this little cafe she liked in Paris. Dom had the kids who were shopping for her Mother’s day gift. We weren’t really talking about much of anything. I was simply enjoying her company.”

Arthur’s voice drifted off a bit as he finished, pausing for a few moments, “It was a week exactly after she’d died.”

She was quiet for a long time after that. If it hadn't been for the gentle movement of her thumb over the side of his hand, he might have thought she had fallen asleep. "I'm sorry." Sorry about Mal, and about his loss of natural dreams. And perhaps a little sorry that she'd asked a question with such a sad answer.

Arthur put forth his best effort to steel himself from the pain that would occasionally resurface. He pulled Ariadne closer, his nose nuzzling into her hair, hoping the scent would help him forget again. He knew it wasn’t healthy keeping it all in, but it had worked for him the past few years. Why fix something that isn’t completely broken?

“It’s the past. There’s no way for any of us to change it. Despite how this place still surprises me, I’m thankful for what I have today. The people I care the most for. It’s all that matters, Ari.”

Drawing Arthur's hand up to her face and kissing his palm seemed like the right thing to do. "The past isn't the past here, though," she said finally, letting their hands rest in front of her. "People come from all different points. What if I'd shown up and I hadn't met any of you yet? What if Mal came after Limbo?"

That was a good question. Arthur didn’t want to think about it. But he wouldn’t deny Ariadne an answer, “I’d feel terrible for Mal. To this day I cannot fathom what happened to her mind. There was nothing Dom or I could have done for her. And if she arrived here at that time in her life, I’m not sure what we could do for her now. But if you showed up not knowing me...”

Oddly enough, this had Arthur smiling just a bit more, “It’d be a fresher start than now. Albeit, a hell of a lot more awkward. I don’t feel like I’ve done you completely right by all this. A part of me wishes I could have taken you out on a date or something. I mean, this sounds stupid, but I still think you deserve that.” Arthur could feel that part of himself opening up more. It was awkward and he wanted to close back up, but he was doing his damnedest not to for her sake.

"You're probably right," she muttered, not wanting to agree but not finding any alternative. Maybe Morpheus could have helped her; maybe he only would have made things worse. But the second answer brought a smile back to her lips, and she wriggled and shifted till she was facing him, their clasped hands now caught up between them. "How very proper of you." The admission charmed her far more than it ought to have done. "You know, you can still take me out for dinner or whatever. Eames won't mind." And that right there illustrated why they were never going to have a normal relationship.

He had to hand it to Ariadne, no matter how wound up he could be, she had a knack for getting him to laugh off a serious situation, “You do realize we’d have to get him something to go in order for him not to feel left out, right?” It was nice to be able to finally talk like this with her. Not having to worry about saying something he might regret. Well, that still hung heavily in his mind, but Ariadne and Eames seemed to be the two most understanding people he’d met.

“Really though. I’d like to take you out, as stupid as it sounds.”

"We'll get him a doggy bag," she said, her smile impish. That would go over well. "Besides, it was just the two of us for ages." Logically Arthur should have been feeling left out more often than not, really. The offer to let the two men go out on their own was on the tip of her tongue - but if Ariadne was honest with herself she would have admitted that she was still a little nervous that the pair of them would decide that adding her to their pair was a mistake. Instead she leaned forward and bumped her nose against Arthur's.

"It doesn't sound stupid. I'd like that a lot." She kissed him lightly. "So pick a night and it's a date."

The words were nice to hear. Arthur found himself smoothing Ariadne’s hair back over her ear, his fingers curling lightly into the bundle of strands before watching them slip through his fingers. He was perfectly content to lay like this for the rest of the night. Then again, having her closer wouldn’t be too bad either.

Arthur’s arm dropped down over her shoulderblade and the small of her back, pulling her closer until his nose barely touched hers. Normally the proximity would bother Arthur, cause him to push back and then maybe go out an hour or two for some air and a cigarette. But at this moment, all he wanted was to be close to Ariadne. Pressing forward, Arthur kissed her lightly, his voice barely above a whisper, “We can work out a time and place tomorrow.”

If she hadn't remembered exactly how she got here, Ariadne would have thought she was dreaming. Arthur was never this relaxed and never initiated contact like this. But here he was in front of her, that ever-present control seeming to relax bit by bit as he drew her closer. It made her heart feel like it was about to rise out of her chest and make her say all sorts of ridiculous romantic and overemotional things. Which would probably only lead to him ordering her out of his room. So she squashed that urge and just smiled back. "Okay," she answered, lips brushing against his as she spoke. "Do you want to try and sleep now?" Her free hand skated over his waist and onto his back, the touch gentle but not necessarily implying anything more than a desire for closeness.

Smiling against her lips, Arthur kissed Ariadne one last time, an arm moving around her body to keep her close, "Yeah, and you better feel better in the morning." It took a few minutes, but Arthur finally drifted off to sleep with the added warmth of Ariadne's body next to his.