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Literature Text
A dream within a dream,
A heart within a heart.
Love grows within dreams.
What better place to start?
A hand within a hand,
A meaning within the words.
Not all can hear it,
Only
Only...shit. "What rhymes with words?" Eames looked up at Arthur from his notebook, lazily tapping his pencil against the paper.
Arthur was laying comfortably on the couch across from Eames, his suit jacket draped over the back of the couch and his collar neatly undone. "What kind of question is that?"
Eames was leaning back in the recliner, his bare feet on the table and his hideous shirt laying in a discarded pile on the floor somewhere. Arthur hadn't opened his eyes to answer him, but he had turned his face towards him. The temptation to cross the room, hold Arthur's face between his hands, and snog the hell out of him was almost irresistible-the keyword being almost. Cobb was coming back soon, and he still hadn't forgiven Eames for the last time he had walked in on him and Arthur. In Eames defense, he had honestly thought that when Cobb said "make yourself at home", he meant that it was okay to act like he did at the home he and Arthur shared. "A question that I need answered now."
Arthur lazily opened one eye. "Oh good, you got rid of that awful shirt."
Eames smirked. "You're only saying that because you enjoy my body."
"Shut up," Arthur groaned, but he didn't bother hiding his smile. "I'm beginning to think you only wear those ugly things so everyone's relieved when you take them off."
"Oh, darling, I could care less about what everyone else thinks."
"No."
Eames frowned. "I didn't ask for anything."
"I know how your mind works. Every time you call me darling, you follow it up by trying to sleep with me." Arthur had closed his eyes, settling back into the couch. "So, as I said earlier, no."
Eames frown faded, and the urge to move to kiss Arthur had come back with a vengeance. "I wasn't going to, but now that you've suggested it…"
"No, Eames." Arthur rolled onto his side, his back facing Eames.
"Are you sure?"
"Of course I'm sure." Arthur spoke into the couch.
"You're sending mixed signals right now." Eames smiled, wondering if Arthur was going to catch his drift.
"Pervert." He rolled over, his head resting on his hands, his face slightly flushed.
Eames laughed, looking back down at his notebook. "You never told me a word that rhymed with words."
"I don't want to think of rhyming words." Arthur's eyes closed again, and his voice began to sound sleep blurred. Eames had always been jealous of just how easily Arthur could drift off.
"What do you want to think of?" Eames voice was comforting to Arthur. He had always been fond of accents.
Arthur thought for a minute, before smiling and sinking even further into the couch. "You."
Cobb rapped violently on the door. "Whatever you two are doing, I'm giving you a warning!" He yelled through the plywood. "If it's not pg-13, I don't want to see it!" He waited for a few seconds, but there was no response. He carefully opened the door, only to be greeted with the sight of Eames and Arthur, asleep on his couch.
Eames was shirtless-as usual- with his arms wrapped around Arthur's waist. Arthur was still fully clothed, his head tucked under Eames's chin, his hands resting lazily on Eames's shoulders. Cobb huffed angrily. "I swear they get more and more adorable each day."
A heart within a heart.
Love grows within dreams.
What better place to start?
A hand within a hand,
A meaning within the words.
Not all can hear it,
Only
Only...shit. "What rhymes with words?" Eames looked up at Arthur from his notebook, lazily tapping his pencil against the paper.
Arthur was laying comfortably on the couch across from Eames, his suit jacket draped over the back of the couch and his collar neatly undone. "What kind of question is that?"
Eames was leaning back in the recliner, his bare feet on the table and his hideous shirt laying in a discarded pile on the floor somewhere. Arthur hadn't opened his eyes to answer him, but he had turned his face towards him. The temptation to cross the room, hold Arthur's face between his hands, and snog the hell out of him was almost irresistible-the keyword being almost. Cobb was coming back soon, and he still hadn't forgiven Eames for the last time he had walked in on him and Arthur. In Eames defense, he had honestly thought that when Cobb said "make yourself at home", he meant that it was okay to act like he did at the home he and Arthur shared. "A question that I need answered now."
Arthur lazily opened one eye. "Oh good, you got rid of that awful shirt."
Eames smirked. "You're only saying that because you enjoy my body."
"Shut up," Arthur groaned, but he didn't bother hiding his smile. "I'm beginning to think you only wear those ugly things so everyone's relieved when you take them off."
"Oh, darling, I could care less about what everyone else thinks."
"No."
Eames frowned. "I didn't ask for anything."
"I know how your mind works. Every time you call me darling, you follow it up by trying to sleep with me." Arthur had closed his eyes, settling back into the couch. "So, as I said earlier, no."
Eames frown faded, and the urge to move to kiss Arthur had come back with a vengeance. "I wasn't going to, but now that you've suggested it…"
"No, Eames." Arthur rolled onto his side, his back facing Eames.
"Are you sure?"
"Of course I'm sure." Arthur spoke into the couch.
"You're sending mixed signals right now." Eames smiled, wondering if Arthur was going to catch his drift.
"Pervert." He rolled over, his head resting on his hands, his face slightly flushed.
Eames laughed, looking back down at his notebook. "You never told me a word that rhymed with words."
"I don't want to think of rhyming words." Arthur's eyes closed again, and his voice began to sound sleep blurred. Eames had always been jealous of just how easily Arthur could drift off.
"What do you want to think of?" Eames voice was comforting to Arthur. He had always been fond of accents.
Arthur thought for a minute, before smiling and sinking even further into the couch. "You."
Cobb rapped violently on the door. "Whatever you two are doing, I'm giving you a warning!" He yelled through the plywood. "If it's not pg-13, I don't want to see it!" He waited for a few seconds, but there was no response. He carefully opened the door, only to be greeted with the sight of Eames and Arthur, asleep on his couch.
Eames was shirtless-as usual- with his arms wrapped around Arthur's waist. Arthur was still fully clothed, his head tucked under Eames's chin, his hands resting lazily on Eames's shoulders. Cobb huffed angrily. "I swear they get more and more adorable each day."
Literature
A lot changes in 70 years
Steve was in his apartment watching TV. He really didn't believe Clint when he said the show 'Supernatural' was based on true stories and that's why he was not scared as hell while watching it. Really, he was not.
Maybe a bit.
He decided to turn it off and go for a walk. Bad idea.
Steve still feels lost in 2012. People talk to seemingly no one, and Natasha keeps telling him they're on the phone but there's no phone, just a thing dangling from their ear and it kinda freaks him out. The amount of cars on the street is ridiculous. A woman bumps into him because she's looking at a device in her hand, Tony told him once those are called 'eye-pa
Literature
Proposal
"Daddy, why aren't you and Papa married?"
That was a good question, wasn't it? One answer that popped in Tony's mind was that he never though about getting married. But well, he never thought he'd be living with Captain America or that he would adopt a child. A few years ago if someone said that one day there would be a small 6 year-old boy in his garage watching him work, Tony would laugh so hard he'd probably fall into a coma.
"I don't know, Peter."
"Do you want to marry him?"
Tony stopped to think. Did he want to marry Steve? He already woke up next to him every morning, they took Peter to school together, had meals together, cleaned t
Literature
Never Again :: Stony
The mansion was quiet. Too quiet. Steve would've sworn that he could've heard a pin drop. As it was, the only sound he could hear was the pounding of his own heart in his ears and his ragged breathing.
Stark mansion was never this quiet. There was always noise. Whether it was the radio cranked up as loud as it could go, or the sounds of Tony trying, and failing again, to make something in the kitchen, or the very loud bangs and crashes coming from his garage as he worked out a few new kinks in the armour. There was always noise of some kind.
Tony could not stand silence.
Silence meant rejection and it unnerved Tony. He hated it and always
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This is based of FanArt and FanFiction. Sorry if the characters aren't acurately portrayed.
But in all honesty, the first time I saw Inception, I had no idea Eames was in it. I saw /nothing/ of him.
I FUCKING HOPE YOU LIKE IT
I was going to cheat and write this as a poem with vague subjects, so I could pass it off as Eames/Arthur, but I ran into the same problem Eames did. Fuck rhyming words.
But in all honesty, the first time I saw Inception, I had no idea Eames was in it. I saw /nothing/ of him.
I FUCKING HOPE YOU LIKE IT
I was going to cheat and write this as a poem with vague subjects, so I could pass it off as Eames/Arthur, but I ran into the same problem Eames did. Fuck rhyming words.
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Awww, that's so cute! Lovely!