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eretriaTitle: Lost in the supermarket (or how to survive Christmas)
Author:eretria
Fandom: Inception
Rating: PG
Pairing: very mild Arthur/Eames.
Spoilers: none really
Size: ~ 12160 words
Summary:On their way to Cobb's Christmas party, Arthur, Eames, Ariadne and Yusuf get stuck in a snowstorm. Isn't it lucky they strand at a Supermarket?
A story in which Arthur gets ready to kill Eames, Yusuf is exasperated, Ariadne is amused (and sings), Eames wears a terrible hat (and sings as well), Cobb is flummoxed, Phillippa and James are excited and Saito might just be an unorthodox Santa.
Disclaimer: No profit gained or wanted.
Notes: I started writing this story in 2010. Yes, that's right. I'm a real fast writer, non?
And, honestly, if it hadn't been for my wonderful beta-readers and exceptional friends, Murron and Auburn, it likely still wouldn't be finished. But luckily, I have them, and they were willing to work overtime even though it was Christmas. Thank you both. This story is for the both of you.
AO3 link: Here
Driving Home For Christmas
Yusuf got in the car with a sound of utter disgust on his lips. Clumps of wet snow slipped form his boots. "Tell me again why I left Mombasa for this?"
"Because Cobb invited us and Arthur would have hunted you down if you had said no?" Eames said, a vague weariness in his voice that indicated he'd had this conversation before.
"Oh. Right." Yusuf glowered at the swirling snow outside the car's window. "I'm starting to think that maybe that would have been better than flying into Flint, Michigan in the dead of winter. Is it always this bloody cold here?"
Ariadne rolled her eyes. "Yusuf, you're a wuss. It's not even under 30 degrees Fahrenheit outside. That's positively cosy."
Yusuf threw her a dirty look. "Insane. All of you. I want coffee."
Ariadne smiled and tapped a thermos flask with her still gloved hand. "No food before we're at least half an hour into the drive, kids."
"Dictator."
"Dictatress," she corrected him with a grin.
"Where is Arthur, anyway?" Yusuf asked.
"Getting the papers for this car," Eames said. "Knowing him, he'll want every single scratch on it documented. It's going take a while."
"Remind me again why we have to drive the rest of the way?"
Ariadne rolled her eyes. "Because Hanley Field is just a grass runway that's been closed since November and Sawyer International closed down due to a snowstorm warning. Yusuf, we've been over this."
"And why are we driving into a snowstorm?"
"It's not a snowstorm yet where Cobb is staying, and besides, whatever you might think, this is a civilised country and we have things like snow-plows. Just because planes can't take-off or land doesn't mean cars can't move."
Yusuf flopped back into his seat, obviously trying to settle and accept his fate. He was quiet for a while, then a shiver went through his frame and he said, "Can't you start the motor?"
Eames' raised eyebrow disappeared beneath the hem of his bright orange-and-brown patterned trapper hat. Earlier, Ariadne had already made a mental note to ask him where he got it. It was hideous in an awesome way. The pom at the top of it bobbed disapprovingly at Yusuf. "What, the current climate change not enough for you?"
"I'm freezing my bloody arse off here!"
"I'm sure Ariadne can warm you up," Eames grinned. Ariadne resisted the urge to whack him across the back of his head.
"Have you seen her?" Yusuf asked, incredulous. "Skinny as she is, she's walking hypothermia waiting to happen."
"You just put yourself on coffee probation," Ariadne said with a saccharine smile. Contrary to popular belief, she didn't get cold easily and actually liked the harsh winters up north.
Yusuf dropped his head to his hands. "I'm too jet-lagged for this. Turn on the radio at least."
Eames indulged him and bent forward, fiddled a while, then leaned back in his seat. "Who wants to go and tell Arthur that he should add a non-functioning radio to his list?"
Yusuf shot forward from the backseat. "Don't you dare. He'll take another half hour if you do. Who needs the radio, anyway?"
"Yes, who needs a radio on a six hour drive?" Eames commented, sarcasm dripping from his words. After a moment's thought, he perked up, though and grinned wolfishly into the rear-view mirror to meet Ariadne's eyes without having to turn around in his bulky coat. "Of course, we could make Arthur sing."
Ariadne fought a grin. "He'll kill you."
"He can sing, trust me."
"He'll kill you, Eames," she repeated, even if she had to admit that the image of Arthur singing held a certain appeal.
"Nah. He'd miss me too much." Eames' smile was beatific.
"Slowly. With blunt instruments," Yusuf agreed.
"Twenty quid says he doesn't."
Yusuf gave a choked snort. "I'm not betting with you!"
"Oh, come on, Yusuf. Don't you trust me?"
Yusuf's snort was eloquent.
"Looks like he's finally learning," Eames said. "Which is a good thing, considering what happened last time --"
"We agreed never to talk about that!" Yusuf snapped.
Ariadne turned to him, eyebrow raised. Interesting.
"Did we?" Eames asked, all feigned innocence.
"I paid you not to talk about it!" There was not a small amount of despair in Yusuf's voice now.
"How much did he pay you?" Ariadne asked Eames. "I'll add another fifty if you tell me."
"Hm." Eames rubbed his chin, making the stubble rasp against his thick gloves. "Tempting."
***
"All right," Arthur said as he slid behind the wheel. "Battle lost. This is the last car they have and no well-placed mention of bribery got us anything else."
"You were trying to get another car all this time?" Ariadne asked, her eyebrows climbing.
"The gas mileage on this one sucks, it has no snow chains, no tires fit for winter and the radio is broken," Arthur listed. Then he turned around and squinted at her. "What did you think I was doing in there all this time, reporting scratches?"
Ariadne felt a blush creep up her cheeks. "I. Ah. No?"
Arthur rolled his eyes. Yusuf smirked. Ariadne stuck out her tongue at him and tucked the thermos between her and the door, as far out of his reach as possible.
"So, are we Driving Home for Christmas, then?" Eames rubbed his hands. "Let's go!"
Arthur turned his head in Eames' direction. "Just so we're clear. Driver calls the shots. Shotgun-"
"Shuts his cakehole," Eames finished in a long-suffering tone. "Though, really. It's an odd phrase, don't you think? What if the shotgun doesn't like cake?"
Arthur blinked at him a few times, then he slowly pushed the key into the ignition. The car started with a rumbling cough.
"I've always wanted a personal driver," Eames said. "Though, really, Arthur would look so much better in one of those charming uniforms, don't you think?" Eames' pom bobbed jauntily.
Ariadne grinned at the mental picture, saw Arthur's eyes on her in the rearview mirror and lowered her chin, hiding the grin in her scarf.
"Shotgun does what, Eames?"
"Annoy the driver?"
They rolled out of the parking lot to the soundtrack of Eames and Arthur bickering.
***
White Christmas
It was a testament to Ariadne's only recent foray into the world of dreamsharing and Yusuf's refusal to go under more than a few times a month that they fell asleep shortly after the car started moving. Arthur hadn't been able to nod off this quickly in years.
They'd slid in the middle of the backseat earlier, complaining about the draft from the door and the lack of proper warmth until Eames - Eames! - had finally snapped a sharp, "Well, cuddle, then!"
Arthur looked in the rear-view mirror and bit back on a smile. Ariadne had her head on Yusuf's shoulder; Yusuf's head rested against hers in a tangle of brown and black hair.
Eames caught his smile, turned around and huffed a laugh. "Rather charming. Why don't you and me sit in the backseat for a while?"
Arthur just rolled his eyes. Again. One of these days they were going to get stuck. Maybe Eames would stop hitting on him then.
***
They were about ninety minutes into the drive when the first snow-flakes started to fall. Traffic was heavy; everyone wanted to get home to their families and loved ones before Christmas day. It was times like these that Arthur regretted not having any family left. His past Christmases had been spent with Cobb - with and without his family -- though and that had become as close to family as Arthur got.
Christmases with Mal had been fantastic. She had insisted on celebrating on both days, Christmas eve and Christmas day, to honour both the European and the American tradition. It had generally resulted in a classy Christmas Eve and a chaotic, sock-and-pyjama-clad Christmas morning with paper flying all around the room and the children playing with their new toys in delight.
Arthur remembered both Phillippa's and James' first Christmases. Both their first rocking horses had been his presents to them. He smiled at the memory of James' blond hair flying all around his little head in the breeze of his wild rocking. Phillippa had been more graceful, but no less wild. He thought of the presents waiting in the trunk of the car and couldn't wait to see their faces when they unpacked them.
James was three, almost four now. Phillippa was turning seven. She looked more like her mother each time Arthur saw her. She had Mal's temper as well.
Before Christmases with the Cobbs, Arthur had never been sentimental, but ever since those kids, he'd become a hopeless sap. Sometimes a sap bordering on homicidal, but a sap nevertheless. He was hoping to disguise it as much as possible so Eames wouldn't find out. The homicidal part would be enough, if something absolutely had to be discovered.
Speak of the devil ... "How are we doing for petrol?" Eames asked.
"Tank's half-full," Arthur answered.
"Didn't take you for the glass half-full type."
"That's because it generally isn't."
"Such a pessimist. How do you get through life?"
"With planning and tenacity and the help of my exceptional good looks."
Eames' eyebrows shot up and he turned to Arthur with a snort of laughter. "Darling!"
"Are we there yet?" A sleepy, female voice asked.
Arthur clenched his teeth. Their sleeping had been cute. Until Ariadne woke up with that question on her lips.
"No."
"But it's almost dark." Yusuf now said. "And, wow, it's really coming down out there. How much longer is it?"
"It takes however long it takes," Arthur said in a light tone of voice, slowly curling his fingers around the steering wheel.
Eames grinned. "Very zen, our Arthur."
Arthur clenched his teeth even harder and clasped the stirring wheel tighter.
"Can we stop somewhere?" Yusuf piped up as well now. "I need to pee."
"Again?" Eames asked, incredulous. "Didn't we just stop for you before you fell asleep?"
"That was Ariadne!"
Eames shook his head. "I swear, between the two of you, we'll never get there. Do tiny people always have tiny bladders?"
Arthur bit back on a grin as he saw Yusuf bristle in the rear view mirror. "I'm not tiny."
Eames opened his mouth, but Arthur butted in before Eames could voice what surely would be something not fit for Ariadne's ears. "We have a lady on board."
Eames blinked at him for a moment, then gave a low and dirty laugh. "A lady? You have talked to her before, haven't you?"
From the rearview mirror, Ariadne's eyes twinkled. "Go ahead and make your penis joke, Eames." She rested a hand on Arthur's shoulder and said, "It's sweet of you to want to protect my virtue, but I did have two brothers. I doubt there's anything Eames could throw at me that I haven't heard before."
"Don't tempt him."
Eames pouted.
"Can we have that potty break now?"
"Yusuf, I swear -- "
"What, would you rather have me pee in the car?"
"Okay, that?" Ariadne said, "Was gross. Arthur, pull over at the next stop."
Arthur frowned. "I'm not your chauffeur."
"But you're driving, right? So pull over unless you want this car to -- "
Arthur fought the urge to clamp his hands over his ears. "No need to elaborate!"
Eames leaned over to him and asked in a stage whisper, "Aren't you glad you decided to drive?"
Arthur shot him a death glare. "Shut up, Eames."
"But why, lovely, when your buttons are so deliciously pushable?"
That wasn't even a word. Pushable. Arthur set his jaw and decided to resist the urge to throttle Eames. He studiously ignored him for the next ten minutes.
Until... "Hey, didn't the GPS say to take the next exit?"
"Yes," Arthur answered, slowly, noticing that the GPS was still stuck at the last setting and hadn't moved since then, "and I am."
"Yeah, but there are two forks, which one does stupid Paula here say to take? Left? Right?"
"We'll figure it out when we get there, Eames."
"We're almost there, though. Left? Right?"
Yusuf leaned forward, his head a dark shade to Arthur's right. "Why isn't the stupid thing working?"
"It's not working?" Ariadne echoed. "How the hell are we supposed to find out which way to go?"
"Did you guys grow up in the 25th century?" Arthur asked, annoyance bubbling up. "Do you remember common sense and maps?"
"Do you have any?"
"Ah," Arthur said. Damn. He hadn't really planned on divulging that he packed the wrong map in his haste. "Plenty of common sense."
"I see. Bringing us back to, how the hell are we supposed to know where to go?"
"Well, try to get it to work if you don't trust his driving," Eames said.
"Give it -- "
"Not while I'm driving, besides, you're a chemist, not a tech-whiz, so -- "
"Stop squabbling, you two --"
"Arthur!"
"Give it -- "
"Arthur!"
"Not -- "
"You're going to hit the divider!"
Arthur slammed on the brakes, his hands clenched around the steering wheel. Through the eddying snow, it was hard to see anything in front of him. The wheels blocked, the car skidded on the snow, closer and closer and much too fast. Arthur tried in vain to counter-act physics but all that got him was a stomach-dropping slide toward the almost completely snow-covered divider. Closer and closer still. To his right, Eames reached for the handle above the door and hid his face in his arms, already anticipating an impact.
No, damn it. No. Not the day before Christmas, not in the middle of nowhere, this was just not happening. Arthur managed to turn the car away from the divider once more, it slowed in increments but still slid over the snow as though skating on pure ice with fur-soled shoes. The divider was getting closer again and they were still too damn fast.
Another circle-slide, one more moment of panic, then they bumped into the divider. Hard. Hard enough to make Arthur hit his head against the wheel but not hard enough to wreck the car.
Heart hammering against his chest, Arthur stared at the windshield-wipers working overtime for a few long seconds.
Finally, he expelled a long breath, unclenched his hands from the wheel and turned around. "All three of you will shut the hell up until we reach the next rest stop, or you can walk the rest of the way."
***
Arthur finally decided to admit defeat after they almost landed in a ditch for the fourth time. His muscles were shaking by now and he couldn't remember when driving had last exhausted him so much.
While Arthur slammed the gear in reverse, Ariadne leaned forward and murmured an urgent, "Arthur, I know how much you want to get there on time, but we're going to have to either find a motel for the night or find a place that sells snow-chains somewhere. We can't go on like this."
Arthur shook his head. "We promised Cobb we'd be there in time for Christmas breakfast. He counts on us."
"On us or on you?"
Arthur set his jaw and didn't answer. Damn her for putting her finger right on the wound.
"Since he invited us all, I'd say he expects us all to be there," Eames said.
Eames to the rescue? That was unusual. Arthur wondered how much he'd have to pay in teasing for this unexpected kindness later.
"Fine," Arthur agreed. "Snow chains it is. After they're on, somebody else drives. We'll take turns driving. That way we'll make it there late, but we'll make it."
Ariadne made an unhappy noise.
"What?"
"They, ah ..." she looked at her phone, then back at Arthur in the rear-view mirror, her eyebrows knit. "They closed the freeways in the UP. The plows can't get through. I think the motel is looking more and more like our -- "
"No. We'll try. The UP is big, and Cobb's rented cabin isn't that far up. We might get lucky."
Eames not making the obvious pun was just as surprising as the earlier help, but Arthur decided to worry about it later. "I saw a sign for a supermarket about half a mile ago."
"Meijers," Ariadne agreed. "They should have snow chains unless everything is sold out."
"And if they're out, we can still ask them for the nearest motel," Arthur conceded, deciding to give her a peace offering.
"Excellent, the children have stopped fighting!" Eames rubbed his hands. "Shall we go Dashing Through The Snow, then?"
Ariadne chuckled. Yusuf starting humming an annoyingly off-tune version of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer and Arthur decided he hated them for putting the song in his head on top of everything else.
Despite his best efforts, he missed the exit to the parking lot three times, unable to see through the snow that was falling heavier by the minute. Ariadne had fallen back asleep when he finally pulled into the parking lot.
Just a few lamps illuminated the lot. It was difficult to drive through the drifts of fresh snow where no one had plowed anything. Arthur was glad to know he could hand over the wheel after this stop.
Only… The parking lot was mostly deserted. If that wasn't a sign of the apocalypse, the day before Christmas, Arthur didn't know what would be.
He had the niggling suspicion that the roads were closed here already and that thanks to their broken radio, they were the only poor schmucks stupid enough to still be out in the snow. But no. No. Ariadne had said they'd closed the roads up north, and they weren't up north yet, right? He was going to cling to that hope and he was going to make it to the damn cabin, weather be damned. He'd been through worse, and most of the people born in a state that only knew how to spell winter usually made weather warnings sound worse than they really needed to be. They were going to be fine.
Eames looked through the windshield with his neck craned to see better. "Does anybody else expect Norman Bates to come out here anytime soon?"
"Let's just get our supplies and get going again," Arthur said.
***
In hindsight, it should have been a warning that the path leading up to the main entrance wasn't plowed. And it probably should have been even more of a warning that the speakers outside the supermarket were quiet. Finding the doors locked was the ultimate warning sign. Of course, it came too late.
As it was, Eames saw the red taillights of a car disappearing in the snowdrifts and sucked in a sharp breath. The last employee. The rats had left the sinking ship.
Eames padded over to where Arthur was trying to peer around the corner to the employee's entrance. "Anyone left?"
Arthur replied without concealing his gloom. "We'll have to find that hotel after all."
"Do you want to tell them or should I?"
Arthur closed his eyes for a few seconds, then straightened his back. "I'll do it. And you will go on driving."
"Naturally, dear."
Eames ignored Arthur flipping him off.
They trudged back to the car -- already rapidly disappearing under a blanket of white -- and Arthur reached for the driver's side door only to have Eames' catch at his arm. "Arthur."
"What?"
Eames pointed below the front end, where the engine's heat had melted snow away while they waited. Yusuf peered over Arthur's shoulder curiously.
There was a pool of rapidly freezing fluorescent green liquid oozing out from underneath the car. "Is that what I think it is?" Yusuf asked.
"Anti-freeze," Eames nodded. "We must have ruptured the radiator when we hit the divider."
"This means what?" Yusuf asked
"Unless we fix it, we won't make it three miles at a time before we have to refill it. Eventually, it's going to fry the motor, so…" Eames scratched underneath his scarf, "far be it from me to alarm anyone, but I think we're stranded."
"We can try to walk to a motel or hotel," Arthur said. A gust of wind slapped in him the face as if to mock even the idea. The parking lot lights went out, leaving them in an eerie almost darkness except for the car headlights reflecting off the snow.
"And be discovered as frozen corpsicles in a snow drift when spring melts everything," Eames remarked agreeably. "Tis the season."
Arthur glared. "You have a better suggestion?"
"Than freezing in our rental car?" Eames gestured back to the supermarket. "Yes. All the comforts of home."
Ariadne straightened, pulled her gloves back on and said, "Eames is right. I mean, thank god we're stranded at a supermarket." She clapped her hands together. "It could be worse, right?"
"Don't jinx it!" Yusuf called, horrified.
"Too late," Arthur mumbled into his scarf.
"What?" Yusuf and Ariadne chorused.
Arthur straightened his back once more, as though bracing for a temper tantrum. "Looks like the supermarket's deserted. The last employee just left. We only caught sight of the taillights."
Eames rolled his eyes. "Break it to them gently, why don't you?"
"So we're stuck out here in the parking lot? In this weather?"
"Of course we're not," Eames said.
"But if the last employee has left, then everything will be locked!" Ariadne said.
"Oh, will it?"
Eames took of his gloved and cracked his knuckles.
"I never thought I'd say this, Eames, but I'm glad you're a thief."
"Darling, you say the sweetest things.
The door was open within seconds.
***
***
Arthur wasn't surprised at all when Ariadne's hand on the light switches garnered them no light. The wind picking up outside had no doubt brought down power lines already. Which explained the surreal silence that pricked at his nerves: the supermarket felt more than just deserted because the subliminally comforting drone of the refrigeration units and hum of overhead fluorescent bulbs were both missing.
"Well, I hate to break it to you," Ariadne said, "but it looks like we're out of juice."
"Emergency generator?"
"It's a supermarket, Arthur, not a hospital," Yusuf said with an eyeroll.
Arthur burrowed into his scarf, looking miserable in the bright white glow of the flashlight Yusuf shone at him. "Well," he mumbled, his words muffled by the sensible dark red scarf, "at least we have supplies."
"Out of milk, eggs and bread, though," Eames commented from across the aisle.
"The entire thing?" Yusuf asked. "Bloody hell."
"No waffles, either," Ariadne piped up from the shelf she was crouched next to.
"Plenty of ice-cream, though, if anyone fancies some," Eames called from what sounded like the other side of the building. "Almond brittle. Double chocolate chip cookie dough. Fantastic!"
Ariadne came back to Yusuf and Arthur just as Eames stopped talking. Arthur just shivered some more. "Has anyone found anything useful?"
"Plenty of chips and salsa. And if you're into beef jerky …"
"Strawberry cream! Dark chocolate and sea-salt-"
"Eames!" Arthur thundered. "Get back here."
"You're just no -- " A pause, a clattering noise, then, "Oh. Oops."
"What?" Arthur snapped, an admirable feat considering that he was yelling halfway across a giant supermarket.
"Well, let's put it this way…" Another pause, then Eames voice carried through the high ceilinged room: "I'm all lost in the supermarket, I can no longer shop I believe."
The flashlight wavered on Arthur, because Yusuf was barely holding it together.
***
Rocking Around the Christmas Tree
"Well, we do have to keep warm, right?" Yusuf asked.
"Of course we do, unless you literally want to 'freeze your bloody arse off'," Arthur answered. His voice was still muffled by the scarf, which made the biting tone softer by default.
"Excellent," Yusuf said, rubbing his gloved hands. "Eames! Ariadne! Bring the trolleys!"
"Wait, wait a moment." Arthur pushed down the scarf a little. "What?"
A loud screeching and rattling saved Yusuf from the answer when Eames and Ariadne arrived, each pushing two shopping trolleys. "He agreed to it?" Ariadne asked in a tone that hurt Yusuf's pride.
"Please," he said, letting aloofness colour his words, "all you need to do is reason with him. You'd be surprised by how far that gets you."
"Hello?" Arthur said.
"Oh, don't tell me you just asked him and he said yes?" Eames asked, similar incredulousness in his voice.
"Of course not." He paused for effect and pulled his hat down over his ears. "He said 'of course'," Yusuf beamed at them.
"Would anybody mind telling me what I agreed to?" Arthur asked, and Yusuf was surprised to hear that he sounded vaguely good-natured about the whole thing. Or at least not actively pissed off. Huh. The things a little cold did to a person.
Ariadne was the first to shake herself from her surprised stupor. She separated the two trolleys, pushed one at Arthur and said, with a winning smile, "Aisle slalom race."
Arthur's eyebrows disappeared under his black knit cap. "You're not serious."
"Deadly."
"You want to race shopping carts around supermarket aisles."
"Yes."
"Shopping carts." Arthur's tone was flat and he sounded as though he doubted their mental state.
"Well, trolleys."
"Carts."
Yusuf rolled his eyes. "Potayto, potahto."
"You want to race shopping carts through a pitch-black supermarket."
Eames separated his two trolleys and pushed one in Yusuf's direction. "We've got torches!" He produced zip-ties and small torches and bent down to remove his thick gloves with his teeth, then got to work to attach the torch to the front of the trolleys.
"Shopping carts with headlights. And you want to race them. Through supermarket aisles. What are you, five?"
"Oh, come on, Arthur, don't tell me you never wanted to do that?" Ariadne said, stomping her feet against the cold.
Eames finished attaching the torches and turned around. To Ariadne he said, "I told you he'd never agree to it. Looks like Mr. Stick-up-his-arse was never young. Definitely not young at heart."
Arthur's eyebrows lowered, met over his nose. Yusuf held his breath. He gave the whole thing an internal countdown. Five, four, three, two --
"Give me that," Arthur snapped at Eames. "You're doing this too sloppily."
To Yusuf's great amusement, Arthur attached the remaining three torches to the fronts of the trolleys in record-time. When he was done, Arthur put his gloves back on. He looked from Yusuf to Ariadne to Eames, then clenched his hands around the trolley's handle. "First one back here gets the first hot drink!"
With that, he was off with screeching wheels.
Yusuf lost the first round because he was too busy laughing his arse off at Eames' and Ariadne's faces as they listened to Arthur's whoops as he raced around the corners.
***
Continued in part 2
Author:
eretriaFandom: Inception
Rating: PG
Pairing: very mild Arthur/Eames.
Spoilers: none really
Size: ~ 12160 words
Summary:On their way to Cobb's Christmas party, Arthur, Eames, Ariadne and Yusuf get stuck in a snowstorm. Isn't it lucky they strand at a Supermarket?
A story in which Arthur gets ready to kill Eames, Yusuf is exasperated, Ariadne is amused (and sings), Eames wears a terrible hat (and sings as well), Cobb is flummoxed, Phillippa and James are excited and Saito might just be an unorthodox Santa.
Disclaimer: No profit gained or wanted.
Notes: I started writing this story in 2010. Yes, that's right. I'm a real fast writer, non?
And, honestly, if it hadn't been for my wonderful beta-readers and exceptional friends, Murron and Auburn, it likely still wouldn't be finished. But luckily, I have them, and they were willing to work overtime even though it was Christmas. Thank you both. This story is for the both of you.
AO3 link: Here
Lost in the supermarket (or how to survive Christmas)
Yusuf got in the car with a sound of utter disgust on his lips. Clumps of wet snow slipped form his boots. "Tell me again why I left Mombasa for this?"
"Because Cobb invited us and Arthur would have hunted you down if you had said no?" Eames said, a vague weariness in his voice that indicated he'd had this conversation before.
"Oh. Right." Yusuf glowered at the swirling snow outside the car's window. "I'm starting to think that maybe that would have been better than flying into Flint, Michigan in the dead of winter. Is it always this bloody cold here?"
Ariadne rolled her eyes. "Yusuf, you're a wuss. It's not even under 30 degrees Fahrenheit outside. That's positively cosy."
Yusuf threw her a dirty look. "Insane. All of you. I want coffee."
Ariadne smiled and tapped a thermos flask with her still gloved hand. "No food before we're at least half an hour into the drive, kids."
"Dictator."
"Dictatress," she corrected him with a grin.
"Where is Arthur, anyway?" Yusuf asked.
"Getting the papers for this car," Eames said. "Knowing him, he'll want every single scratch on it documented. It's going take a while."
"Remind me again why we have to drive the rest of the way?"
Ariadne rolled her eyes. "Because Hanley Field is just a grass runway that's been closed since November and Sawyer International closed down due to a snowstorm warning. Yusuf, we've been over this."
"And why are we driving into a snowstorm?"
"It's not a snowstorm yet where Cobb is staying, and besides, whatever you might think, this is a civilised country and we have things like snow-plows. Just because planes can't take-off or land doesn't mean cars can't move."
Yusuf flopped back into his seat, obviously trying to settle and accept his fate. He was quiet for a while, then a shiver went through his frame and he said, "Can't you start the motor?"
Eames' raised eyebrow disappeared beneath the hem of his bright orange-and-brown patterned trapper hat. Earlier, Ariadne had already made a mental note to ask him where he got it. It was hideous in an awesome way. The pom at the top of it bobbed disapprovingly at Yusuf. "What, the current climate change not enough for you?"
"I'm freezing my bloody arse off here!"
"I'm sure Ariadne can warm you up," Eames grinned. Ariadne resisted the urge to whack him across the back of his head.
"Have you seen her?" Yusuf asked, incredulous. "Skinny as she is, she's walking hypothermia waiting to happen."
"You just put yourself on coffee probation," Ariadne said with a saccharine smile. Contrary to popular belief, she didn't get cold easily and actually liked the harsh winters up north.
Yusuf dropped his head to his hands. "I'm too jet-lagged for this. Turn on the radio at least."
Eames indulged him and bent forward, fiddled a while, then leaned back in his seat. "Who wants to go and tell Arthur that he should add a non-functioning radio to his list?"
Yusuf shot forward from the backseat. "Don't you dare. He'll take another half hour if you do. Who needs the radio, anyway?"
"Yes, who needs a radio on a six hour drive?" Eames commented, sarcasm dripping from his words. After a moment's thought, he perked up, though and grinned wolfishly into the rear-view mirror to meet Ariadne's eyes without having to turn around in his bulky coat. "Of course, we could make Arthur sing."
Ariadne fought a grin. "He'll kill you."
"He can sing, trust me."
"He'll kill you, Eames," she repeated, even if she had to admit that the image of Arthur singing held a certain appeal.
"Nah. He'd miss me too much." Eames' smile was beatific.
"Slowly. With blunt instruments," Yusuf agreed.
"Twenty quid says he doesn't."
Yusuf gave a choked snort. "I'm not betting with you!"
"Oh, come on, Yusuf. Don't you trust me?"
Yusuf's snort was eloquent.
"Looks like he's finally learning," Eames said. "Which is a good thing, considering what happened last time --"
"We agreed never to talk about that!" Yusuf snapped.
Ariadne turned to him, eyebrow raised. Interesting.
"Did we?" Eames asked, all feigned innocence.
"I paid you not to talk about it!" There was not a small amount of despair in Yusuf's voice now.
"How much did he pay you?" Ariadne asked Eames. "I'll add another fifty if you tell me."
"Hm." Eames rubbed his chin, making the stubble rasp against his thick gloves. "Tempting."
"All right," Arthur said as he slid behind the wheel. "Battle lost. This is the last car they have and no well-placed mention of bribery got us anything else."
"You were trying to get another car all this time?" Ariadne asked, her eyebrows climbing.
"The gas mileage on this one sucks, it has no snow chains, no tires fit for winter and the radio is broken," Arthur listed. Then he turned around and squinted at her. "What did you think I was doing in there all this time, reporting scratches?"
Ariadne felt a blush creep up her cheeks. "I. Ah. No?"
Arthur rolled his eyes. Yusuf smirked. Ariadne stuck out her tongue at him and tucked the thermos between her and the door, as far out of his reach as possible.
"So, are we Driving Home for Christmas, then?" Eames rubbed his hands. "Let's go!"
Arthur turned his head in Eames' direction. "Just so we're clear. Driver calls the shots. Shotgun-"
"Shuts his cakehole," Eames finished in a long-suffering tone. "Though, really. It's an odd phrase, don't you think? What if the shotgun doesn't like cake?"
Arthur blinked at him a few times, then he slowly pushed the key into the ignition. The car started with a rumbling cough.
"I've always wanted a personal driver," Eames said. "Though, really, Arthur would look so much better in one of those charming uniforms, don't you think?" Eames' pom bobbed jauntily.
Ariadne grinned at the mental picture, saw Arthur's eyes on her in the rearview mirror and lowered her chin, hiding the grin in her scarf.
"Shotgun does what, Eames?"
"Annoy the driver?"
They rolled out of the parking lot to the soundtrack of Eames and Arthur bickering.
It was a testament to Ariadne's only recent foray into the world of dreamsharing and Yusuf's refusal to go under more than a few times a month that they fell asleep shortly after the car started moving. Arthur hadn't been able to nod off this quickly in years.
They'd slid in the middle of the backseat earlier, complaining about the draft from the door and the lack of proper warmth until Eames - Eames! - had finally snapped a sharp, "Well, cuddle, then!"
Arthur looked in the rear-view mirror and bit back on a smile. Ariadne had her head on Yusuf's shoulder; Yusuf's head rested against hers in a tangle of brown and black hair.
Eames caught his smile, turned around and huffed a laugh. "Rather charming. Why don't you and me sit in the backseat for a while?"
Arthur just rolled his eyes. Again. One of these days they were going to get stuck. Maybe Eames would stop hitting on him then.
They were about ninety minutes into the drive when the first snow-flakes started to fall. Traffic was heavy; everyone wanted to get home to their families and loved ones before Christmas day. It was times like these that Arthur regretted not having any family left. His past Christmases had been spent with Cobb - with and without his family -- though and that had become as close to family as Arthur got.
Christmases with Mal had been fantastic. She had insisted on celebrating on both days, Christmas eve and Christmas day, to honour both the European and the American tradition. It had generally resulted in a classy Christmas Eve and a chaotic, sock-and-pyjama-clad Christmas morning with paper flying all around the room and the children playing with their new toys in delight.
Arthur remembered both Phillippa's and James' first Christmases. Both their first rocking horses had been his presents to them. He smiled at the memory of James' blond hair flying all around his little head in the breeze of his wild rocking. Phillippa had been more graceful, but no less wild. He thought of the presents waiting in the trunk of the car and couldn't wait to see their faces when they unpacked them.
James was three, almost four now. Phillippa was turning seven. She looked more like her mother each time Arthur saw her. She had Mal's temper as well.
Before Christmases with the Cobbs, Arthur had never been sentimental, but ever since those kids, he'd become a hopeless sap. Sometimes a sap bordering on homicidal, but a sap nevertheless. He was hoping to disguise it as much as possible so Eames wouldn't find out. The homicidal part would be enough, if something absolutely had to be discovered.
Speak of the devil ... "How are we doing for petrol?" Eames asked.
"Tank's half-full," Arthur answered.
"Didn't take you for the glass half-full type."
"That's because it generally isn't."
"Such a pessimist. How do you get through life?"
"With planning and tenacity and the help of my exceptional good looks."
Eames' eyebrows shot up and he turned to Arthur with a snort of laughter. "Darling!"
"Are we there yet?" A sleepy, female voice asked.
Arthur clenched his teeth. Their sleeping had been cute. Until Ariadne woke up with that question on her lips.
"No."
"But it's almost dark." Yusuf now said. "And, wow, it's really coming down out there. How much longer is it?"
"It takes however long it takes," Arthur said in a light tone of voice, slowly curling his fingers around the steering wheel.
Eames grinned. "Very zen, our Arthur."
Arthur clenched his teeth even harder and clasped the stirring wheel tighter.
"Can we stop somewhere?" Yusuf piped up as well now. "I need to pee."
"Again?" Eames asked, incredulous. "Didn't we just stop for you before you fell asleep?"
"That was Ariadne!"
Eames shook his head. "I swear, between the two of you, we'll never get there. Do tiny people always have tiny bladders?"
Arthur bit back on a grin as he saw Yusuf bristle in the rear view mirror. "I'm not tiny."
Eames opened his mouth, but Arthur butted in before Eames could voice what surely would be something not fit for Ariadne's ears. "We have a lady on board."
Eames blinked at him for a moment, then gave a low and dirty laugh. "A lady? You have talked to her before, haven't you?"
From the rearview mirror, Ariadne's eyes twinkled. "Go ahead and make your penis joke, Eames." She rested a hand on Arthur's shoulder and said, "It's sweet of you to want to protect my virtue, but I did have two brothers. I doubt there's anything Eames could throw at me that I haven't heard before."
"Don't tempt him."
Eames pouted.
"Can we have that potty break now?"
"Yusuf, I swear -- "
"What, would you rather have me pee in the car?"
"Okay, that?" Ariadne said, "Was gross. Arthur, pull over at the next stop."
Arthur frowned. "I'm not your chauffeur."
"But you're driving, right? So pull over unless you want this car to -- "
Arthur fought the urge to clamp his hands over his ears. "No need to elaborate!"
Eames leaned over to him and asked in a stage whisper, "Aren't you glad you decided to drive?"
Arthur shot him a death glare. "Shut up, Eames."
"But why, lovely, when your buttons are so deliciously pushable?"
That wasn't even a word. Pushable. Arthur set his jaw and decided to resist the urge to throttle Eames. He studiously ignored him for the next ten minutes.
Until... "Hey, didn't the GPS say to take the next exit?"
"Yes," Arthur answered, slowly, noticing that the GPS was still stuck at the last setting and hadn't moved since then, "and I am."
"Yeah, but there are two forks, which one does stupid Paula here say to take? Left? Right?"
"We'll figure it out when we get there, Eames."
"We're almost there, though. Left? Right?"
Yusuf leaned forward, his head a dark shade to Arthur's right. "Why isn't the stupid thing working?"
"It's not working?" Ariadne echoed. "How the hell are we supposed to find out which way to go?"
"Did you guys grow up in the 25th century?" Arthur asked, annoyance bubbling up. "Do you remember common sense and maps?"
"Do you have any?"
"Ah," Arthur said. Damn. He hadn't really planned on divulging that he packed the wrong map in his haste. "Plenty of common sense."
"I see. Bringing us back to, how the hell are we supposed to know where to go?"
"Well, try to get it to work if you don't trust his driving," Eames said.
"Give it -- "
"Not while I'm driving, besides, you're a chemist, not a tech-whiz, so -- "
"Stop squabbling, you two --"
"Arthur!"
"Give it -- "
"Arthur!"
"Not -- "
"You're going to hit the divider!"
Arthur slammed on the brakes, his hands clenched around the steering wheel. Through the eddying snow, it was hard to see anything in front of him. The wheels blocked, the car skidded on the snow, closer and closer and much too fast. Arthur tried in vain to counter-act physics but all that got him was a stomach-dropping slide toward the almost completely snow-covered divider. Closer and closer still. To his right, Eames reached for the handle above the door and hid his face in his arms, already anticipating an impact.
No, damn it. No. Not the day before Christmas, not in the middle of nowhere, this was just not happening. Arthur managed to turn the car away from the divider once more, it slowed in increments but still slid over the snow as though skating on pure ice with fur-soled shoes. The divider was getting closer again and they were still too damn fast.
Another circle-slide, one more moment of panic, then they bumped into the divider. Hard. Hard enough to make Arthur hit his head against the wheel but not hard enough to wreck the car.
Heart hammering against his chest, Arthur stared at the windshield-wipers working overtime for a few long seconds.
Finally, he expelled a long breath, unclenched his hands from the wheel and turned around. "All three of you will shut the hell up until we reach the next rest stop, or you can walk the rest of the way."
Arthur finally decided to admit defeat after they almost landed in a ditch for the fourth time. His muscles were shaking by now and he couldn't remember when driving had last exhausted him so much.
While Arthur slammed the gear in reverse, Ariadne leaned forward and murmured an urgent, "Arthur, I know how much you want to get there on time, but we're going to have to either find a motel for the night or find a place that sells snow-chains somewhere. We can't go on like this."
Arthur shook his head. "We promised Cobb we'd be there in time for Christmas breakfast. He counts on us."
"On us or on you?"
Arthur set his jaw and didn't answer. Damn her for putting her finger right on the wound.
"Since he invited us all, I'd say he expects us all to be there," Eames said.
Eames to the rescue? That was unusual. Arthur wondered how much he'd have to pay in teasing for this unexpected kindness later.
"Fine," Arthur agreed. "Snow chains it is. After they're on, somebody else drives. We'll take turns driving. That way we'll make it there late, but we'll make it."
Ariadne made an unhappy noise.
"What?"
"They, ah ..." she looked at her phone, then back at Arthur in the rear-view mirror, her eyebrows knit. "They closed the freeways in the UP. The plows can't get through. I think the motel is looking more and more like our -- "
"No. We'll try. The UP is big, and Cobb's rented cabin isn't that far up. We might get lucky."
Eames not making the obvious pun was just as surprising as the earlier help, but Arthur decided to worry about it later. "I saw a sign for a supermarket about half a mile ago."
"Meijers," Ariadne agreed. "They should have snow chains unless everything is sold out."
"And if they're out, we can still ask them for the nearest motel," Arthur conceded, deciding to give her a peace offering.
"Excellent, the children have stopped fighting!" Eames rubbed his hands. "Shall we go Dashing Through The Snow, then?"
Ariadne chuckled. Yusuf starting humming an annoyingly off-tune version of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer and Arthur decided he hated them for putting the song in his head on top of everything else.
Despite his best efforts, he missed the exit to the parking lot three times, unable to see through the snow that was falling heavier by the minute. Ariadne had fallen back asleep when he finally pulled into the parking lot.
Just a few lamps illuminated the lot. It was difficult to drive through the drifts of fresh snow where no one had plowed anything. Arthur was glad to know he could hand over the wheel after this stop.
Only… The parking lot was mostly deserted. If that wasn't a sign of the apocalypse, the day before Christmas, Arthur didn't know what would be.
He had the niggling suspicion that the roads were closed here already and that thanks to their broken radio, they were the only poor schmucks stupid enough to still be out in the snow. But no. No. Ariadne had said they'd closed the roads up north, and they weren't up north yet, right? He was going to cling to that hope and he was going to make it to the damn cabin, weather be damned. He'd been through worse, and most of the people born in a state that only knew how to spell winter usually made weather warnings sound worse than they really needed to be. They were going to be fine.
Eames looked through the windshield with his neck craned to see better. "Does anybody else expect Norman Bates to come out here anytime soon?"
"Let's just get our supplies and get going again," Arthur said.
In hindsight, it should have been a warning that the path leading up to the main entrance wasn't plowed. And it probably should have been even more of a warning that the speakers outside the supermarket were quiet. Finding the doors locked was the ultimate warning sign. Of course, it came too late.
As it was, Eames saw the red taillights of a car disappearing in the snowdrifts and sucked in a sharp breath. The last employee. The rats had left the sinking ship.
Eames padded over to where Arthur was trying to peer around the corner to the employee's entrance. "Anyone left?"
Arthur replied without concealing his gloom. "We'll have to find that hotel after all."
"Do you want to tell them or should I?"
Arthur closed his eyes for a few seconds, then straightened his back. "I'll do it. And you will go on driving."
"Naturally, dear."
Eames ignored Arthur flipping him off.
They trudged back to the car -- already rapidly disappearing under a blanket of white -- and Arthur reached for the driver's side door only to have Eames' catch at his arm. "Arthur."
"What?"
Eames pointed below the front end, where the engine's heat had melted snow away while they waited. Yusuf peered over Arthur's shoulder curiously.
There was a pool of rapidly freezing fluorescent green liquid oozing out from underneath the car. "Is that what I think it is?" Yusuf asked.
"Anti-freeze," Eames nodded. "We must have ruptured the radiator when we hit the divider."
"This means what?" Yusuf asked
"Unless we fix it, we won't make it three miles at a time before we have to refill it. Eventually, it's going to fry the motor, so…" Eames scratched underneath his scarf, "far be it from me to alarm anyone, but I think we're stranded."
"We can try to walk to a motel or hotel," Arthur said. A gust of wind slapped in him the face as if to mock even the idea. The parking lot lights went out, leaving them in an eerie almost darkness except for the car headlights reflecting off the snow.
"And be discovered as frozen corpsicles in a snow drift when spring melts everything," Eames remarked agreeably. "Tis the season."
Arthur glared. "You have a better suggestion?"
"Than freezing in our rental car?" Eames gestured back to the supermarket. "Yes. All the comforts of home."
Ariadne straightened, pulled her gloves back on and said, "Eames is right. I mean, thank god we're stranded at a supermarket." She clapped her hands together. "It could be worse, right?"
"Don't jinx it!" Yusuf called, horrified.
"Too late," Arthur mumbled into his scarf.
"What?" Yusuf and Ariadne chorused.
Arthur straightened his back once more, as though bracing for a temper tantrum. "Looks like the supermarket's deserted. The last employee just left. We only caught sight of the taillights."
Eames rolled his eyes. "Break it to them gently, why don't you?"
"So we're stuck out here in the parking lot? In this weather?"
"Of course we're not," Eames said.
"But if the last employee has left, then everything will be locked!" Ariadne said.
"Oh, will it?"
Eames took of his gloved and cracked his knuckles.
"I never thought I'd say this, Eames, but I'm glad you're a thief."
"Darling, you say the sweetest things.
The door was open within seconds.
Arthur wasn't surprised at all when Ariadne's hand on the light switches garnered them no light. The wind picking up outside had no doubt brought down power lines already. Which explained the surreal silence that pricked at his nerves: the supermarket felt more than just deserted because the subliminally comforting drone of the refrigeration units and hum of overhead fluorescent bulbs were both missing.
"Well, I hate to break it to you," Ariadne said, "but it looks like we're out of juice."
"Emergency generator?"
"It's a supermarket, Arthur, not a hospital," Yusuf said with an eyeroll.
Arthur burrowed into his scarf, looking miserable in the bright white glow of the flashlight Yusuf shone at him. "Well," he mumbled, his words muffled by the sensible dark red scarf, "at least we have supplies."
"Out of milk, eggs and bread, though," Eames commented from across the aisle.
"The entire thing?" Yusuf asked. "Bloody hell."
"No waffles, either," Ariadne piped up from the shelf she was crouched next to.
"Plenty of ice-cream, though, if anyone fancies some," Eames called from what sounded like the other side of the building. "Almond brittle. Double chocolate chip cookie dough. Fantastic!"
Ariadne came back to Yusuf and Arthur just as Eames stopped talking. Arthur just shivered some more. "Has anyone found anything useful?"
"Plenty of chips and salsa. And if you're into beef jerky …"
"Strawberry cream! Dark chocolate and sea-salt-"
"Eames!" Arthur thundered. "Get back here."
"You're just no -- " A pause, a clattering noise, then, "Oh. Oops."
"What?" Arthur snapped, an admirable feat considering that he was yelling halfway across a giant supermarket.
"Well, let's put it this way…" Another pause, then Eames voice carried through the high ceilinged room: "I'm all lost in the supermarket, I can no longer shop I believe."
The flashlight wavered on Arthur, because Yusuf was barely holding it together.
"Well, we do have to keep warm, right?" Yusuf asked.
"Of course we do, unless you literally want to 'freeze your bloody arse off'," Arthur answered. His voice was still muffled by the scarf, which made the biting tone softer by default.
"Excellent," Yusuf said, rubbing his gloved hands. "Eames! Ariadne! Bring the trolleys!"
"Wait, wait a moment." Arthur pushed down the scarf a little. "What?"
A loud screeching and rattling saved Yusuf from the answer when Eames and Ariadne arrived, each pushing two shopping trolleys. "He agreed to it?" Ariadne asked in a tone that hurt Yusuf's pride.
"Please," he said, letting aloofness colour his words, "all you need to do is reason with him. You'd be surprised by how far that gets you."
"Hello?" Arthur said.
"Oh, don't tell me you just asked him and he said yes?" Eames asked, similar incredulousness in his voice.
"Of course not." He paused for effect and pulled his hat down over his ears. "He said 'of course'," Yusuf beamed at them.
"Would anybody mind telling me what I agreed to?" Arthur asked, and Yusuf was surprised to hear that he sounded vaguely good-natured about the whole thing. Or at least not actively pissed off. Huh. The things a little cold did to a person.
Ariadne was the first to shake herself from her surprised stupor. She separated the two trolleys, pushed one at Arthur and said, with a winning smile, "Aisle slalom race."
Arthur's eyebrows disappeared under his black knit cap. "You're not serious."
"Deadly."
"You want to race shopping carts around supermarket aisles."
"Yes."
"Shopping carts." Arthur's tone was flat and he sounded as though he doubted their mental state.
"Well, trolleys."
"Carts."
Yusuf rolled his eyes. "Potayto, potahto."
"You want to race shopping carts through a pitch-black supermarket."
Eames separated his two trolleys and pushed one in Yusuf's direction. "We've got torches!" He produced zip-ties and small torches and bent down to remove his thick gloves with his teeth, then got to work to attach the torch to the front of the trolleys.
"Shopping carts with headlights. And you want to race them. Through supermarket aisles. What are you, five?"
"Oh, come on, Arthur, don't tell me you never wanted to do that?" Ariadne said, stomping her feet against the cold.
Eames finished attaching the torches and turned around. To Ariadne he said, "I told you he'd never agree to it. Looks like Mr. Stick-up-his-arse was never young. Definitely not young at heart."
Arthur's eyebrows lowered, met over his nose. Yusuf held his breath. He gave the whole thing an internal countdown. Five, four, three, two --
"Give me that," Arthur snapped at Eames. "You're doing this too sloppily."
To Yusuf's great amusement, Arthur attached the remaining three torches to the fronts of the trolleys in record-time. When he was done, Arthur put his gloves back on. He looked from Yusuf to Ariadne to Eames, then clenched his hands around the trolley's handle. "First one back here gets the first hot drink!"
With that, he was off with screeching wheels.
Yusuf lost the first round because he was too busy laughing his arse off at Eames' and Ariadne's faces as they listened to Arthur's whoops as he raced around the corners.
Continued in part 2