FIC: 100 Things Eames Is No Longer Allowed To Do #86
Title: 100 Things Eames Is No Longer Allowed To Do #86
Authors:
unvarnishedtale & immoral_crow
Team: ♥ROMANCE♥
Prompt: HOME
Word count: 1500
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Cracky crossoveriness (sort of), still no sex, and…um…Aurors?
Things had gone badly wrong, the kind of badly wrong involving fire, and lots of running, and Cobb blaming Arthur for shit that really wasn’t his fault.
Because, yeah, the mark’s subconscious was militarised, but Arthur had learned his lesson last time and he’d fucking checked, okay? He’d checked, and he’d told Cobb about the levels of security they’d be up against, it’s just that when they finally got down here it…well, it wasn’t quite what they’d expected.
Your typical, garden variety militarised subconscious, once it senses that it’s been breached, will deploy projections armed with guns, or gigantic armoured trains, or on one memorable occasion an army of wolves with lasers mounted on their backs. The team was prepared for that shit to go down. There was Kevlar involved.
Kevlar, as it turned out, is not very much use against wizards.
“Wizards! Wizards, Arthur!” Cobb shouted as they legged it down a corridor of Ariadne’s Hogwarts maze, red-robed wizards in hot pursuit. Cobb had lost an eyebrow to a hex he hadn’t dodged fast enough, which hadn’t improved his state of mind at all.
“I told you there’d be security down here!” Arthur yelled.
“WIZARDS!?”
“Reducto!” Eames shouted, flicking the wand in his hand with a degree of skill that made Arthur seriously question what Eames did in his spare time. With a great rumbling crash, the far end of the corridor was reduced to rubble and most of the red-robed projections were crushed.
“What the fuck is wrong with using your goddamned gun, Eames?” Arthur snarled.
“This is much more fun!” Eames replied gleefully. They ducked round a corner of the corridor and took a moment to catch their breath.
“This is no time for fucking about!” Cobb snapped. He leaned out and fired off a couple of shots at the remaining projections, hit one, and only just managed to avoid losing the other eyebrow.
“We’ll save the fucking about for after, hmm?” Eames murmured in Arthur’s ear.
Finding out where Rowling had hidden the information they’d been hired to extract hadn’t been easy. The dream had kicked off with a meeting in the Headmaster’s office, during which Cobb had tried every persuasive technique in his considerable repertoire, to no avail. In the end it had been Eames’s surprisingly detailed knowledge of the universe of Rowling’s books that had got them a result.
Unfortunately, Eames’s solution had been to pull a wand out of his back pocket, point it at Rowling, and say “Legilimens”, whatever the fuck that meant. There was no doubting the effectiveness of this manoeuvre, but it had also alerted Rowling’s subconscious security forces to their presence. Ariadne had been delighted when a brace of red-robed wizards had marched in, and Arthur had actually laughed, until one of the wizards (or ‘Oh my giddy aunt, they’re Aurors!’ as Eames had called them) had pointed its wand at Ariadne, shouted something that sounded like ‘Abracadabra!’, and taken their architect out with a flash of green light. There had been no more giggling at the wizards after that.
And, as an added bonus, it appeared that Rowling’s mind hadn’t created a safe or a vault to hide the information in. Oh, no. That would have been far too easy.
Rowling had hidden the information in the god-damned Room of Requirement, whatever the fuck that was.
They’d fought their way out of Dumbledore’s office, and had managed to evade the most of the Aurors (thanks, again, to Eames, who had sent off a few of his own projections dressed in long black robes, saying something about being a Death Eater and his mum always said he’d come to no good) and all would have been well if it hadn’t been for those fucking staircases.
The staircases kept moving. Not that Arthur wasn’t accustomed to staircases suddenly leading nowhere, he just wasn’t used to them moving around while he was actually on them. Besides being disconcerting it had also meant that in order to get to the seventh floor corridor where the Room was meant to be located, Eames, whose dream it was, had had to move a lot of the things around. By the time they’d negotiated the recalcitrant architecture and gained the seventh floor they’d had a small army of red-robed wizards after them, all armed with wands.
Which is where the fire came in. And the running. And Cobb blaming Arthur for shit that really wasn’t his fault.
When they reached the corridor where Eames claimed the Room of Requirement was situated, there was nothing but a blank stone wall on one side and the strangest tapestry Arthur had ever seen on the other. He stared at it while Cobb kicked the opposite wall and swore.
“What the fuck..?” he said. Eames draped an arm around Arthur’s shoulders.
“Barnabas the Barmy, teaching ballet to trolls.”
“I don’t even want to know.”
“It’s in the book!”
“They’re kids’ books! Like I’ve read them!”
“Arthur, Arthur,” Eames said mournfully, shaking his head. “That is a sad state of affairs. Will you let me read them to you when we get home?”
“You’re not reading me bedtime stories, Eames.”
“Would you two cut it out!” Cobb said. “Eames! Where’s this fucking room?”
“It’s right here,” Eames replied, pointing at the wall.
“Eames,” Cobb growled. “Quit-“
“I really need to find Rowling’s secret, so Cobb can stop shouting and I can take Arthur home for a good seeing-to,” Eames said loudly, winking at Arthur. Cobb scowled.
A door appeared out of nowhere.
“Eames, what was that?” Arthur asked.
“Magic,” Eames said, as though it was obvious.
They entered the Room of Requirement just as a chorus of shouts and thudding feet announced the approach of more Aurors, and barred the door behind them.
“Jesus Christ,” Cobb muttered, shaking his head as the projections bellowed and the door shook under a barrage of spells. “What’s the big deal with this anyway? Why couldn’t they just wait until the website goes live?”
“Because, Cobb, our clients are fangirls, and as such are a trifle obsessed and not a little bit bonkers,” Eames replied. “You of all people should understand that.”
Arthur turned away to hide his grin, and began taking stock of the room. Finding the information they were after was not going to be an easy task, that much was obvious. The room was cluttered with sheet-draped furniture, and piled high with books, broken astrolabes, bundles of rolled-up maps and charts, brooms stacked like kindling, and all of it thick with dust.
He sighed and began rummaging as more angry voices joined the chorus in the corridor outside. The whole room began to shake intermittently, but Arthur put that down to the barrage of magic spells hitting the door.
Then door began to splinter and just as one of the hinges gave way, the whole castle seemed to shudder.
“What the fuck was that?” Cobb yelled from behind a stack of furniture. There was a crash, followed by swearing, before Cobb staggered out streaked with dust and looking even more pissed off, if such a thing were possible.
“The dream’s collapsing! We’ve got to hurry up!” Arthur said, rifling through the world's oddest filing cabinet.
“FUCK!” That was Cobb again, flailing and throwing a book across the room. “The fucking thing bit me!”
Eames’s laughter was drowned out by a great roar that sounded as though it was coming from above them, and the whole fucking dream felt like it was shaking apart, now.
“I think I’ve found it!” Eames called. He was holding a small wooden box which, on closer inspection, had ‘POTTERMORE’ engraved on the lid. Eames glanced at the both, and opened the box. They peered inside.
“Huh,” said Cobb.
“What, that’s it?” Arthur was nonplussed. “Those fangirls are going to be really pissed.”
Eames just looked disappointed.
It was at that point that a dragon crashed through the roof of the castle and into the Room of Requirement, filling the air with sulphurous fire and billowing, acrid smoke. It was enough of a kick to wrench them out of the collapsing dream and dump them back into the real world.
It took Arthur almost half an hour to realise that Ariadne had drawn a fucking lightning bolt on his forehead in eyeliner pencil after she’d woken up. As punishment he refused to tell what they’d discovered about Pottermore, even though she promised him her firstborn child.
Eames followed him into the bathroom when he stomped off to wash his face.
“Don’t,” Eames said before Arthur could start scrubbing at the lightning bolt.
“Oh, what, you have a wizard fetish now?”
Eames, by way of answering, wrapped his arms around Arthur’s waist and nuzzled his neck.
“You’re such a freak,” Arthur moaned.
“It’s part of my charm. Now, come on, I’m taking you home and educating you.”
Arthur grinned. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”
“Such a brat.”
“It’s part of my charm.”
Authors:
unvarnishedtale & immoral_crowTeam: ♥ROMANCE♥
Prompt: HOME
Word count: 1500
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Cracky crossoveriness (sort of), still no sex, and…um…Aurors?
Things had gone badly wrong, the kind of badly wrong involving fire, and lots of running, and Cobb blaming Arthur for shit that really wasn’t his fault.
Because, yeah, the mark’s subconscious was militarised, but Arthur had learned his lesson last time and he’d fucking checked, okay? He’d checked, and he’d told Cobb about the levels of security they’d be up against, it’s just that when they finally got down here it…well, it wasn’t quite what they’d expected.
Your typical, garden variety militarised subconscious, once it senses that it’s been breached, will deploy projections armed with guns, or gigantic armoured trains, or on one memorable occasion an army of wolves with lasers mounted on their backs. The team was prepared for that shit to go down. There was Kevlar involved.
Kevlar, as it turned out, is not very much use against wizards.
“Wizards! Wizards, Arthur!” Cobb shouted as they legged it down a corridor of Ariadne’s Hogwarts maze, red-robed wizards in hot pursuit. Cobb had lost an eyebrow to a hex he hadn’t dodged fast enough, which hadn’t improved his state of mind at all.
“I told you there’d be security down here!” Arthur yelled.
“WIZARDS!?”
“Reducto!” Eames shouted, flicking the wand in his hand with a degree of skill that made Arthur seriously question what Eames did in his spare time. With a great rumbling crash, the far end of the corridor was reduced to rubble and most of the red-robed projections were crushed.
“What the fuck is wrong with using your goddamned gun, Eames?” Arthur snarled.
“This is much more fun!” Eames replied gleefully. They ducked round a corner of the corridor and took a moment to catch their breath.
“This is no time for fucking about!” Cobb snapped. He leaned out and fired off a couple of shots at the remaining projections, hit one, and only just managed to avoid losing the other eyebrow.
“We’ll save the fucking about for after, hmm?” Eames murmured in Arthur’s ear.
Finding out where Rowling had hidden the information they’d been hired to extract hadn’t been easy. The dream had kicked off with a meeting in the Headmaster’s office, during which Cobb had tried every persuasive technique in his considerable repertoire, to no avail. In the end it had been Eames’s surprisingly detailed knowledge of the universe of Rowling’s books that had got them a result.
Unfortunately, Eames’s solution had been to pull a wand out of his back pocket, point it at Rowling, and say “Legilimens”, whatever the fuck that meant. There was no doubting the effectiveness of this manoeuvre, but it had also alerted Rowling’s subconscious security forces to their presence. Ariadne had been delighted when a brace of red-robed wizards had marched in, and Arthur had actually laughed, until one of the wizards (or ‘Oh my giddy aunt, they’re Aurors!’ as Eames had called them) had pointed its wand at Ariadne, shouted something that sounded like ‘Abracadabra!’, and taken their architect out with a flash of green light. There had been no more giggling at the wizards after that.
And, as an added bonus, it appeared that Rowling’s mind hadn’t created a safe or a vault to hide the information in. Oh, no. That would have been far too easy.
Rowling had hidden the information in the god-damned Room of Requirement, whatever the fuck that was.
They’d fought their way out of Dumbledore’s office, and had managed to evade the most of the Aurors (thanks, again, to Eames, who had sent off a few of his own projections dressed in long black robes, saying something about being a Death Eater and his mum always said he’d come to no good) and all would have been well if it hadn’t been for those fucking staircases.
The staircases kept moving. Not that Arthur wasn’t accustomed to staircases suddenly leading nowhere, he just wasn’t used to them moving around while he was actually on them. Besides being disconcerting it had also meant that in order to get to the seventh floor corridor where the Room was meant to be located, Eames, whose dream it was, had had to move a lot of the things around. By the time they’d negotiated the recalcitrant architecture and gained the seventh floor they’d had a small army of red-robed wizards after them, all armed with wands.
Which is where the fire came in. And the running. And Cobb blaming Arthur for shit that really wasn’t his fault.
When they reached the corridor where Eames claimed the Room of Requirement was situated, there was nothing but a blank stone wall on one side and the strangest tapestry Arthur had ever seen on the other. He stared at it while Cobb kicked the opposite wall and swore.
“What the fuck..?” he said. Eames draped an arm around Arthur’s shoulders.
“Barnabas the Barmy, teaching ballet to trolls.”
“I don’t even want to know.”
“It’s in the book!”
“They’re kids’ books! Like I’ve read them!”
“Arthur, Arthur,” Eames said mournfully, shaking his head. “That is a sad state of affairs. Will you let me read them to you when we get home?”
“You’re not reading me bedtime stories, Eames.”
“Would you two cut it out!” Cobb said. “Eames! Where’s this fucking room?”
“It’s right here,” Eames replied, pointing at the wall.
“Eames,” Cobb growled. “Quit-“
“I really need to find Rowling’s secret, so Cobb can stop shouting and I can take Arthur home for a good seeing-to,” Eames said loudly, winking at Arthur. Cobb scowled.
A door appeared out of nowhere.
“Eames, what was that?” Arthur asked.
“Magic,” Eames said, as though it was obvious.
They entered the Room of Requirement just as a chorus of shouts and thudding feet announced the approach of more Aurors, and barred the door behind them.
“Jesus Christ,” Cobb muttered, shaking his head as the projections bellowed and the door shook under a barrage of spells. “What’s the big deal with this anyway? Why couldn’t they just wait until the website goes live?”
“Because, Cobb, our clients are fangirls, and as such are a trifle obsessed and not a little bit bonkers,” Eames replied. “You of all people should understand that.”
Arthur turned away to hide his grin, and began taking stock of the room. Finding the information they were after was not going to be an easy task, that much was obvious. The room was cluttered with sheet-draped furniture, and piled high with books, broken astrolabes, bundles of rolled-up maps and charts, brooms stacked like kindling, and all of it thick with dust.
He sighed and began rummaging as more angry voices joined the chorus in the corridor outside. The whole room began to shake intermittently, but Arthur put that down to the barrage of magic spells hitting the door.
Then door began to splinter and just as one of the hinges gave way, the whole castle seemed to shudder.
“What the fuck was that?” Cobb yelled from behind a stack of furniture. There was a crash, followed by swearing, before Cobb staggered out streaked with dust and looking even more pissed off, if such a thing were possible.
“The dream’s collapsing! We’ve got to hurry up!” Arthur said, rifling through the world's oddest filing cabinet.
“FUCK!” That was Cobb again, flailing and throwing a book across the room. “The fucking thing bit me!”
Eames’s laughter was drowned out by a great roar that sounded as though it was coming from above them, and the whole fucking dream felt like it was shaking apart, now.
“I think I’ve found it!” Eames called. He was holding a small wooden box which, on closer inspection, had ‘POTTERMORE’ engraved on the lid. Eames glanced at the both, and opened the box. They peered inside.
“Huh,” said Cobb.
“What, that’s it?” Arthur was nonplussed. “Those fangirls are going to be really pissed.”
Eames just looked disappointed.
It was at that point that a dragon crashed through the roof of the castle and into the Room of Requirement, filling the air with sulphurous fire and billowing, acrid smoke. It was enough of a kick to wrench them out of the collapsing dream and dump them back into the real world.
It took Arthur almost half an hour to realise that Ariadne had drawn a fucking lightning bolt on his forehead in eyeliner pencil after she’d woken up. As punishment he refused to tell what they’d discovered about Pottermore, even though she promised him her firstborn child.
Eames followed him into the bathroom when he stomped off to wash his face.
“Don’t,” Eames said before Arthur could start scrubbing at the lightning bolt.
“Oh, what, you have a wizard fetish now?”
Eames, by way of answering, wrapped his arms around Arthur’s waist and nuzzled his neck.
“You’re such a freak,” Arthur moaned.
“It’s part of my charm. Now, come on, I’m taking you home and educating you.”
Arthur grinned. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”
“Such a brat.”
“It’s part of my charm.”