Plenty Of Good Thieves Ch. 1 - You Can Leave Your Hat On

[tabi_essentially]

The train stood idle on the rails, teeming with people who were too rich and bored to be excited about traveling. Their apathy was contagious. Everyone seemed to be in a rotten mood, unaware of their privilege. As if their lives of comfort were a burden to them. Eames planned on relieving many of them of at least some of that burden, the poor dears.

He also had to guard against their general foul moods. He knew he could be a sponge sometimes, and atmosphere could, if he let it, play a role in how he felt. It was part of being a forger. This trip was supposed to be fun. He wasn't going to let impatient people shoving him with their bags get in the way of that.

He also had a way of knowing exactly where Arthur was in a crowd of people at any given moment. Well, he had a way of knowing where anyone he wanted to watch was. This was part of his job description. But especially Arthur. He could put his gaze directly on him quicker than anyone.

And there Arthur stood on the platform, looking right back at him through the crowd. He stood out among the travelers. Many people were dressed all posh- this was a tour for the massively rich and influential, which was part of why they had decided on this venture – but Arthur looked finer than anyone Eames had ever seen, in gun-metal grey, and the hat that Eames had given him the last time they'd been together. He looked like the weapon that he was. Eames hadn't seen him in seven months. He was holding a few non-descript bags and shifting impatiently. When he saw Eames watching him, he offered a small smile.

Eames met him halfway.

"Hello, Mr. Eames," Arthur said, as if they hadn't spent most of their last meeting without clothes.

"Greetings, Arthur," Eames said, because he was nice like that, he liked to play along with Arthur's games. "You're looking fit and intimidating."

"Thank you. So are you. Nice coat."

"Thank you, Arthur." It was a nice coat, too, the olive green pea-coat that he knew Arthur liked.

"Gonna be a nice, relaxing vacation, isn't it?" Arthur said.

"Just so," Eames answered. Which wasn't strictly a lie. It was a vacation, a break from all the hardship. No one would be shooting at them, tying them up, stealing them, experimenting on them, and no one would be just plain fucking with them. If they planned to do a little bit of work on the side, then it was safe work, of the normal sort. And if they left their vacation a few thousand pounds richer, and with some perhaps ill-gotten information, well then, it would just be a more successful vacation for them than for anyone else. But a vacation nonetheless.

Arthur looked like he belonged on trains, in his posh clothes, with his hat. He looked like he needed to be sitting in a dining car, or gambling at a table, or hanging his coat on a hook in a tiny, moving room before turning to Eames and...

"Quit gawking at me," Arthur said. "There'll be time for that later on."

Oh yes, Eames thought. Plenty of time. Nothing but time. Ten days of nothing but free time and the occasional mini-heist, and then more free time.

Christ, they were going to kill each other.

"Then, shall we?" Eames said, stepping aside on the platform so that Arthur could go first.

"Thanks," Arthur said, sweeping past him with all his bags. Arthur traveled light. Eames liked that about him. He did see the black case that hid the familiar silver briefcase, though. Of course Arthur had brought the PASIV.

They both had the ability to glide through crowds with ease. This came in handy on jobs, especially get-aways, but also in general, such as when making their way onto a crowded train. Soon they were out of the warm press of humanity and standing together in a tiny, yet very plush compartment. Eames was one hundred and twenty pounds plus a nice wristwatch richer when they got there.

Their room was mostly dark wood and burgundy dressings. A small lamp stood on an end table. There was a mini fridge, some little closets, and a window with slatted, wooden blinds.

Two beds, thankfully, bunk-bed style. The top one was suspended by chains from the ceiling.

"Cool," Arthur said, looking at the top one. "We can switch, if you want."

"I've no problem being on the bottom," Eames said. Then he replayed his words in his head and smiled.

"I'll see to that later," Arthur said.

Arthur took off his jacket and hung it up before starting to unpack his travel bag, setting things into tiny compartments. He had only two formal suits in garment bags, which he hung up. The rest or his clothes he left folded and packed. Eames did the same; it was wiser, in case they had to ever leave in a hurry. Eames took note of the many gadgets that Arthur carried. More gadgets than clothes, really. Laptop, phone, scanners, mics, and tiny, easily-hidden cameras...

"I can't believe you brought that with you on vacation," Eames said, eyeing one of the gadgets. He didn't mean the PASIV, or the laptop. It was a small, oval-ish game system thing that Arthur was plugging into an adaptor, to plug into a European outlet, charging it.

"I'm three quarters through with one of my games," Arthur said. "I haven't had any work in about a month. It passes the time. Beats watching television."

"Television is an honorable time-vampire," Eames said. "And you can learn a lot from it. The Planet Earth series was brilliant."

"I'm sure it was," Arthur said, smirking over his shoulder. "Tell me you didn't watch Britain's Got Talent instead, though."

"One can enjoy both."

"And anyway, games challenge your tactical thinking and reaction time. It helps when I'm not on a job."

This was Arthur's usual defense for his off-work, alone time activities. Eames liked to poke at him for it, though. Because he liked Arthur, the silly bastard. He liked his fondness for child's play and how he defended it with his fondness for crime, he liked his gangster hair, liked the fact that he wore it loose at night, when he sat cross-legged on hotel beds wearing his glasses. He liked the fact that Arthur was still wearing the hat that Eames had bought him.

And he really, really liked the view he got when Arthur reached up to check inside a light fixture for the usual things like cameras and bugs. It stretched out the smooth line of his back under his shirt. It arched his back a little and tightened his thighs. Yes, he might kill Arthur with nothing better to do in ten days. But he was also going to fuck him silly. Sillier.

Arthur didn't turn around. "I can actually feel your eyes on my ass."

"Would you care to feel my hands on it?" Eames offered.

"Once I'm done." He went about the tiny room, checking mirrors, drawer-pulls, compartments, the window, both beds and under each mattress, everywhere he could put his sly, clever fingers.

"You're really afraid of a sex tape, aren't you?" Eames teased.

"Eames, seeing as how you already lifted over a hundred bucks from someone today and the train hasn't even moved yet, a sex tape is the least of my worries."

"Then come here," Eames said. He kept his voice casual, but he also used the tone that he knew worked on Arthur. It rarely failed him and it didn't this time, either. Arthur stopped moving, his hands stilling over the top of the door where he'd been checking for wires. He looked over his shoulder, one eyebrow arched, as if he were considering being irritated. Eames just raised his eyebrows, his expression mild.

Arthur turned around and started to take his hat off.

"No no," Eames said. "Leave it."

Arthur smiled and rolled his eyes. "You have strange quirks."

Eames turned him around and sat him on the bed.

"I'm not judging," Arthur added.

Eames sank to his knees, at Arthur's feet, and started working at the buttons of his trousers.

"Everyone has their own little... Mmm... things that they... Oh. Yes."

Eames could hear the masses of people going by outside their tiny room. Chattering, moving along like cattle, lazy and slow. Banging into their door, unaware of what was going on behind it, what would continue to go on. Unaware that many of them would be just a little poorer when they finished their tour, but too drunk to remember that they hadn't spent their money or simply misplaced their valuables. It made Eames feel happy, powerful. He gripped Arthur's hips, slid his thumbs against the sharp bones, tipped them forward.

"Oh jesus, that's good," Arthur said. He leaned back against the wall, and the brim of his hat slid down, shading his eyes. His hands clung to the maroon coverlet, messing it up.

Eames really, really did like this crazy bastard, who let him indulge in these sorts of things. He hadn't seen Arthur in more than half a year. He'd worked, but he'd been bored working alone, frustrated when he worked with people less competent. It wasn't about the money anymore.

And, judging by the hair-trigger reaction he was getting, Arthur had probably been bored without him, too. It was gratifying. It always was.

Arthur moaned, arching up, then quickly tried to quiet himself, eyes darting around and a blush creeping across his cheeks as he glanced at the door.

Oh, yes. This was going to be a fun trip.

** ** ** **


So what I'd like to know is this.

Someone give me:

A random sound you'd like to hear.

A phrase or request that Arthur says to Eames.

One image you'd like to see.

I'll pick one, or two, or whatever, of each. If I can't work these into the next chapter, I will get them in eventually! Remember that it's Inception 'verse, I can totally cheat and have it be a dream, haha. ^_^;;


Which train are they on?

Transylvania,
The Silk Road,
Trans Siberian,
Italy,
Architectural Feast [LOL!]

Or some other train?

Next up, they settle in, look around, and later, get some sleep on the train. Arthur already called the top bunk, sorry! But what happens? A nightmare? If so, whose? Some creepy face at the window? Someone lurking outside the door? I have a vague idea of something slightly resembling a plot, but it's hazy.

I'm sorry my first chapter is so short. Most of my first chapters are, because I never know where I'm going in the first chapter, or what the details are going to be. They always get longer as I go on. :D

So. INCEPT ME. ^_^

Chapter Two: Sixes, Sevens and Nines