Work Text:
I'm gonna be just like you
The manor's grounds are covered in flowers during the spring. Rupert Eames, age eight which he likes to state constantly to anyone who dares to ask, is sitting on a picnic blanket with his mother and his new baby sister.
He touches her cheek, glancing up at his mother. Charlotte Eames raises an eyebrow. He seems to be in a phase where he likes to touch anything he could get his hands on.
"She's so small. Mum, why is she so small?"
"She's a baby, Rupert." He squats next to Ariadne and pokes her cheek again.
The baby's eyes well up.
"Rupert George," Mrs. Eames warns her son, pushing his hand away. "Don't make your sister cry."
He begrudgingly sits back on the checkered blanket. Ariadne watches him with her big, round eyes. Eames bobs his head back and forth, still keeping her glaze. She copies him in turn.
He giggles.
-:-
no matter what you say I can't do
"Who's that?" Eames' best friend from secondary school asks. Eames and him are climbing the grand staircase to hide out in Eames' room and "study." Studying definitely involved a bag of weed and a few other things. Thankfully, his mother isn't home; his father might be home but as long as Eames didn't set the entire kitchen on fire, he doesn't bother leaving his downstairs office.
Eames glances down to see ten year old Ariadne following them up the stairs. "My baby sister." He turns to the young girl. "Piss off Ariadne. Me and Henry are busy."
"You're not suppose to say that, Ru." She then opts to ignore Eames and his annoyed expression and pester Henry with questions. "Hey, my name is Ariadne. Are you Ru's friend? Why are you here? What's your favorite color?"
She continues on and on and on until Eames cuts her off. "He doesn't want to talk to you. Go. Away.”
Ariadne pouts, stomps up the stairs, and sticks her tongue out at him when she reaches the top. He mocks her by sticking his out as well.
Eames takes Henry to his room. While Henry takes in the dark blue walls with posters of bands, Eames pulls open one of the windows that faced the south side of the house so they could get rid of the smoke before Mrs. Eames got home.
"Hey, where is your mum?"
"At one of her stupid luncheons." Eames is an angry sort of child, more so as a teenager. Henry nods like he understands but he really doesn't.
They both sit on Eames' queen bed and open up the bag. After making a blunt, they pass it between each other. Everything is going fine until the door creaks.
Eames whips around expecting his mother or even his father but instead is met by Ariadne standing in the threshold, eyes wide.
"Ari! Get out!"
"Are you smoking?" Eames sprites to the door trying to catch Aria before she can run and tell their parents.
"No."
"Yuh huh." She points to Henry who is holding the blunt super awkwardly. They bicker for a few minutes.
"Fine." He concedes. "I was. Don't tell mum."
She folds her arms and gives him a sharp look. "What's in it for me?"
"I'll take you anywhere you want for a month if you just don't. Tell. Mum." He emphasized each word by aiming his index at her threateningly. "Or dad." He adds as an afterthought.
"Deal." She holds out his hand to shake. He accepts. "So," she breaks the silence after a minute of the siblings and Henry glance awkwardly between them. "Can I stay?"
"NO!" Eames pushes her out.
-:-
I'll follow you until the day
"Where are you going?" Eames says, leaning against her doorway one afternoon. Ariadne freezes. The half-packed backpack abandoned on her messy bed.
"Since when are you ever home to bother asking?" The comment comes out a lot mean than she meant it to.
Eames' smile he's wearing falters a bit. He flops himself on top of the bed like a starfish. Then, after much too long of a pause, he repeats his question.
"A friend's house. Why do you care?" She goes back to piling clothing into the bag.
"No, you're not. And I'm your big brother so that's why I care."
"Yeah, well you can stop caring, ok?" She zips up the bag and moves to leaves only for Eames to grab her arm.
"Where are you really going, Ari?" They both stare at each other, neither wanting to lose the game. Eames finally looks down and lets go of her wrist. She should be happy but it's a hollow victory.
"I'm leaving like you did." Eames freezes in horror. "Not to join the army." She corrects herself as he takes a deep breath.
"Ok...good."
"Yeah. There’s a school in Paris that Dad agreed to pay for. He gave me a flat and the whole shebang. I can give you the address if you want." She goes back to her nightstand to pick up a piece of paper to which she dangles in Eames' face.
He snatches it, giving it a once over.
"Well, good luck then Ari. University can be difficult."
"Pssh, what do you know? You never went to uni." He laughs.
-:-
I can smile at you and say
"How do you feel about being my witness?" Eames appears in her Paris flat one morning without as much as a warning. Ariadne doesn't even bat an eye at her older brother and begins messing with her expresso machine again.
"Witness for what? Did you do something illegal?"
"I work in art conservation, Aria."
"So?" She raises an eyebrow. Pulling the fridge door open, she offers him a soda. He declines.
"How could I get into trouble doing art conservation?" He leans against the counter, tapping his index finger against his thigh every so often. He seems to debate sitting down in one of the chairs next to him; he gives in.
"You managed to get kicked out of four boarding schools when we were kids so I wouldn't doubt you'd find a way." Eames grins ear to ear as if he is proud of that fact. Ariadne sets her coffee down in front of her and stands directly across from him.
"Fine, I'll bite. Why do you need a witness, Rupert?"
"Arthur and I are getting married!" He does 'jazz hands.'
"Does Mother know about this?"
"Nope!" He gives up his grin a moment to shoot her a serious look. "And you won't tell her."
"Wasn't planning to, believe me." She holds her hands up in surrender. "Why are you asking now, though?"
"Arthur and I don't want to deal with Mother or her insipid planning so we're going to elope next week in California. And I want you to be one of our witnesses. Arthur is inviting his sister to be his. You know, the one that lives in Washington. So, you'd be like my best man...best woman? Best witness?"
"Hey wait, slow down! Go back!" Eames stops. "I can't be a witness for your wedding in California! I live in Paris!"
"You're on break right now." Eames points out, smugly.
"Shut up, Rupert!" She chugs her coffee, practically slamming the cup into the sink.
Eames doesn't stay anything. Her older brother is almost never this quiet in all the years she's known him. She glances back at him once more.
"Please Ariadne. This would mean the world to me."
She pinches her eyebrows together, pretending to be in deep thought. "Fine, I'll do it."
"Yes!" He pumps his fist. "You're my favorite sister."
"I'm your only sister, dumbass." Ariadne rolls her eyes.
-:-
Big brother I'm just like you
The glass rains down around her as another bullet shatters a bottle on the top shelf. The security down here was nothing out of the ordinary but sometimes she wished that their marks wouldn't be militarized for once.
The smoky speakeasy would be a wonderful place to go for drinks if it weren’t a part of the dream at the moment, and there wouldn't be men hiding behind turned over table with automatic weapons.
Arthur slides down beside her underneath the bar. "Have you seen Eames?"
"I thought he was with you." She pokes up to fire at one of the guys.
"Nope. He said something about expanding the family business and wandered off. I don't know where he could have gone." Despite the way he phrases it, Arthur isn't very worried.
"Fuck." She reloads her magazine. "He's going to bother Robert." Eames has developed this fun habit (and Ariadne is most definitely being facetious when she says this) of bugging Robert while they're training him to be an extractor. Robert, so far, has yet to crack under pressure.
Speak of the devil.
"What does your brother have planned?" Robert hisses, ducking under the bar at the same moment that Arthur peeks up to shoot at the projections.
"What do you mean?"
"I grabbed the file, but he is still trying to distract the mark at the gun show in the other room with some kind of explosive. This wasn't part of the plan, was it?"
"One thing you should know about my husband, Fischer, is that he never follows the fucking plan." Arthur huffs, grabbing a bottle of whiskey and throwing it over his shoulder, toward the projections.
"Guess I'll just have to welcome unpredictability then?" Robert gives Ariadne a wiry smile. She smiles back.
"Oh, big word there, Trust Fund Kid!" Eames tumbles beside them. "Who feels like going out in a blaze of glory this time?" He holds up a pack of C4.
"Wait! Before we do, in the spirit of being unpredictable," Robert interrupts to turn to Ariadne. "Marry me?"
-:-
"Pass the fries." Robert hands the basket to Arthur from across the table of the Fresno In-N-Out Burger. Robert and Arthur are dressed to the nines while Eames is decked out in a terrible Hawaiian button up and Ariadne sports a simple but beautiful white sundress.
"Guess this is the new spot for wedding receptions, huh?" Eames laughs, taking a sip of Arthur's drink.
"Hey," Ariadne cries. "At least we got married in formal-ish outfits unlike you and your awful paisley shirt,"
Eames holds his hand over his heart as if he is wounded. "How could you say such a thing? I bet your husband doesn't think it's bad!”
Robert, mid bite, remarks, "No, your shirt's an affront to humanity."
"Hey!" He pouts. Arthur rolls his eyes, rubbing Eames' arm sympathetically.