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charybdisFor this prompt on the Inception kink meme.
Title: EquilibriaAndMomentEventSensitivity.xls
Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Summary: A romance told in Excel formulae. Contains crackfic and logic tests. No, seriously. PG-13, 1,230 words
He just likes to keep things organized; that's not abnormal. And this is how he organizes all information, from research to contingency plans. It's not like he can be expected to keep every last detail straight in his head.
Still, Arthur knows that keeping an Excel workbook devoted to his current romantic interest might be considered a little out of the ordinary.
What? It's not like he come up with the idea out of obsessiveness. It's just that he has a history of getting dumped for forgetting things like meaningful songs and special moments.
Val kicked him out for wearing (he wasn't going to steal it, for godsakes) his best shirt. Kirsten left him because he forgot that she hated strawberries (who hates strawberries?). And he was so busy being chased around Tunisia by professional hitters that he completely forgot his and Cory's anniversary (he might have deserved to be dumped over the way he handled that one).
Arthur just needed a methodical way to keep track of favorite colors and important dates and preferred sexual positions, and spreadsheets are what works for him. It's not like he keeps them after the relationship is over.
At present, the workbook is called 'EquilibriaAndMomentEventSensitivity.xls' and it contains, among other things, a first sheet devoted to the biological responses and rotational mechanics of complex automated kicks. It also contains a sheet full of notes on what Eames likes and a detailed list of things he wants to do to Eames.
It may or may not also contain a regression analysis to predict the latitudes where Eames prefers to take jobs during certain times of the year.
Arthur waits until he's taking a research break before updating the workbook. It wouldn't do to let his personal romantic pursuits interfere with his work.
***
When Arthur gets back to his hotel room, he's just sober enough to loosen his tie and compose a working logic test.
=IF(DRINKS>=7,"KISS ACCEPTABLE","LEFT CROSS")
In the morning, his jaw will have a spectacular bruise. But it was worth it.
***
While he waits for his flight to Cairo, Arthur wrestles formulas in an attempt to accurately describe Eames' favorite petite blonde.
=IF(NOT(SELF="eames")=TRUE,"DESIGNER DRESSES","TWEED")
He adds a cell comment of most commonly used designer labels.
***
Once he's determined that the jacket is unsalvageable -- at least the blood isn't his -- Arthur edits the workbook so that the 'preferred weaponry' category is on its own sheet. And he creates a tentative firearms hierarchy.
=IF(AND(OR(USCALIBER<=.45,MMCALIBER<=9),OR(MODEL="colt m1911",MODEL="beretta"))=TRUE,"JUST A PRECAUTION","IN SERIOUS SHIT")
Personally, Arthur thinks the Desert Eagle was a bit of overkill, but to each his own, he supposes.
***
Arthur is in the middle of updating the sheet called 'MechanicsDia,' when he's interrupted.
"Still grinding away, I see. Whenever do you find the time to sleep, darling?"
Eames saunters across the warehouse floor, looking slightly bemused. He might've just come from a bar, and Arthur doesn't have to refer to his spreadsheet before he starts wondering if Eames has had seven drinks yet.
Arthur tries to close his laptop nonchalantly as he glances at the clock. "Oh. I didn't realize it was that late." He's painfully aware that he isn't doing a very good job at nonchalance. "I guess I'd better get to bed." To sleep! his brain shrills, when Eames reaches Arthur's desk and comes to stand behind his chair.
The scent of Eames' cologne is dark and smooth, almost visceral and certainly expensive. He's wearing a proper collared shirt, even if he hasn't bothered to button it all the way, and the cuffs are rolled up to his elbows. He isn't wearing that disgusting tweed jacket of his. Arthur is distracted by the way he leans against the desk and licks his lips, a quick, unconscious flicker of tongue that makes Arthur's teeth ache with want. Which is why he doesn't quite catch Eames before he reaches over and flips the laptop open.
"What is it that's got you so intrigued?"
It only takes an instant for Arthur to realize that he hasn't actually closed the workbook. He scrambles for the computer, but Eames scoops it up and turns away, blocking Arthur's hands with his body.
"Eames!" Arthur barely closes his mouth on give it back, determined not to sound any more like a whiny child. "That's none of your business."
But it's too late for that to do any good, and Eames scrolls down the list slowly, the rhythm of his breath strange and shallow in the large warehouse.
Eventually, he says, "Kiss in free-fall? Fuck against a window? Arthur, what is this?" He sounds torn between worry and admiration.
"It's a spreadsheet." Clearly.
"A spreadsheet of what?" Eames idly highlights a few cells and doesn't seem to be able to pull his gaze away from the screen, which is nice, because then he can't see Arthur flush bright red.
"It'saspreadsheetofthingsIwanttodotoyou."
Eames freezes. His hand on the keyboard goes perfectly still, and for a moment, he doesn't even breathe. Then, like his voice doesn't quite work right, "Do you even know what all of these things are, darling?"
Arthur stands up then, peers at the screen and surveys the cells that Eames has highlighted. Most of them are just one word, and all of them are very, very dirty. Eames leans back against him ever so slightly, and the heat in his face goes from embarrassed to aroused.
"Do you want to try them alphabetically or in the order that they originated?"
***
They're both later than usual to work the next morning, but the first thing that Arthur does when he turns on his computer is update the Excel workbook.
=IF(NOT(CLOTHES="offensive")=TRUE,"FUCK WHILE CLOTHED","RIP CLOTHES BEYOND REPAIR")
Eames will eventually forgive him for ruining his tweed.
Title: EquilibriaAndMomentEventSensitivity.xls
Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Summary: A romance told in Excel formulae. Contains crackfic and logic tests. No, seriously. PG-13, 1,230 words
He just likes to keep things organized; that's not abnormal. And this is how he organizes all information, from research to contingency plans. It's not like he can be expected to keep every last detail straight in his head.
Still, Arthur knows that keeping an Excel workbook devoted to his current romantic interest might be considered a little out of the ordinary.
What? It's not like he come up with the idea out of obsessiveness. It's just that he has a history of getting dumped for forgetting things like meaningful songs and special moments.
Val kicked him out for wearing (he wasn't going to steal it, for godsakes) his best shirt. Kirsten left him because he forgot that she hated strawberries (who hates strawberries?). And he was so busy being chased around Tunisia by professional hitters that he completely forgot his and Cory's anniversary (he might have deserved to be dumped over the way he handled that one).
Arthur just needed a methodical way to keep track of favorite colors and important dates and preferred sexual positions, and spreadsheets are what works for him. It's not like he keeps them after the relationship is over.
At present, the workbook is called 'EquilibriaAndMomentEventSensitivity.xls' and it contains, among other things, a first sheet devoted to the biological responses and rotational mechanics of complex automated kicks. It also contains a sheet full of notes on what Eames likes and a detailed list of things he wants to do to Eames.
It may or may not also contain a regression analysis to predict the latitudes where Eames prefers to take jobs during certain times of the year.
Arthur waits until he's taking a research break before updating the workbook. It wouldn't do to let his personal romantic pursuits interfere with his work.
***
When Arthur gets back to his hotel room, he's just sober enough to loosen his tie and compose a working logic test.
=IF(DRINKS>=7,"KISS ACCEPTABLE","LEFT CROSS")
In the morning, his jaw will have a spectacular bruise. But it was worth it.
***
While he waits for his flight to Cairo, Arthur wrestles formulas in an attempt to accurately describe Eames' favorite petite blonde.
=IF(NOT(SELF="eames")=TRUE,"DESIGNER DRESSES","TWEED")
He adds a cell comment of most commonly used designer labels.
***
Once he's determined that the jacket is unsalvageable -- at least the blood isn't his -- Arthur edits the workbook so that the 'preferred weaponry' category is on its own sheet. And he creates a tentative firearms hierarchy.
=IF(AND(OR(USCALIBER<=.45,MMCALIBER<=9),OR(MODEL="colt m1911",MODEL="beretta"))=TRUE,"JUST A PRECAUTION","IN SERIOUS SHIT")
Personally, Arthur thinks the Desert Eagle was a bit of overkill, but to each his own, he supposes.
***
Arthur is in the middle of updating the sheet called 'MechanicsDia,' when he's interrupted.
"Still grinding away, I see. Whenever do you find the time to sleep, darling?"
Eames saunters across the warehouse floor, looking slightly bemused. He might've just come from a bar, and Arthur doesn't have to refer to his spreadsheet before he starts wondering if Eames has had seven drinks yet.
Arthur tries to close his laptop nonchalantly as he glances at the clock. "Oh. I didn't realize it was that late." He's painfully aware that he isn't doing a very good job at nonchalance. "I guess I'd better get to bed." To sleep! his brain shrills, when Eames reaches Arthur's desk and comes to stand behind his chair.
The scent of Eames' cologne is dark and smooth, almost visceral and certainly expensive. He's wearing a proper collared shirt, even if he hasn't bothered to button it all the way, and the cuffs are rolled up to his elbows. He isn't wearing that disgusting tweed jacket of his. Arthur is distracted by the way he leans against the desk and licks his lips, a quick, unconscious flicker of tongue that makes Arthur's teeth ache with want. Which is why he doesn't quite catch Eames before he reaches over and flips the laptop open.
"What is it that's got you so intrigued?"
It only takes an instant for Arthur to realize that he hasn't actually closed the workbook. He scrambles for the computer, but Eames scoops it up and turns away, blocking Arthur's hands with his body.
"Eames!" Arthur barely closes his mouth on give it back, determined not to sound any more like a whiny child. "That's none of your business."
But it's too late for that to do any good, and Eames scrolls down the list slowly, the rhythm of his breath strange and shallow in the large warehouse.
Eventually, he says, "Kiss in free-fall? Fuck against a window? Arthur, what is this?" He sounds torn between worry and admiration.
"It's a spreadsheet." Clearly.
"A spreadsheet of what?" Eames idly highlights a few cells and doesn't seem to be able to pull his gaze away from the screen, which is nice, because then he can't see Arthur flush bright red.
"It'saspreadsheetofthingsIwanttodotoyou."
Eames freezes. His hand on the keyboard goes perfectly still, and for a moment, he doesn't even breathe. Then, like his voice doesn't quite work right, "Do you even know what all of these things are, darling?"
Arthur stands up then, peers at the screen and surveys the cells that Eames has highlighted. Most of them are just one word, and all of them are very, very dirty. Eames leans back against him ever so slightly, and the heat in his face goes from embarrassed to aroused.
"Do you want to try them alphabetically or in the order that they originated?"
***
They're both later than usual to work the next morning, but the first thing that Arthur does when he turns on his computer is update the Excel workbook.
=IF(NOT(CLOTHES="offensive")=TRUE,"FUCK WHILE CLOTHED","RIP CLOTHES BEYOND REPAIR")
Eames will eventually forgive him for ruining his tweed.
