A/N: I seem to be unable to stop playing with the idea of projections.

This is slightly AU.

Beta: OneWhoSitsWithTheTurtles

Never in his life had Eames thought that he'd be drawn to a projection. And now here he was, watching this unbelievably enticing projection of Cobb's consciousness and wondering if he'd ever meet the real person.

Nice to Meet You, Again

Eames was stunned. True, he had not been in dream work for long, but even he knew enough to understand that he came across something remarkable. The dream space shifted before his eyes, tall buildings growing from thin air and long roads slithering between them, patches of green appearing here and there, mingling together to create a beautiful garden among stone. He heard the sound of running water and turned around to see a river make its way through the city, granite pavement running along it with the wrought fence growing from within the clefts in the grey stone and shaping into intricate flower designs. The road he was standing on stretched and elongated, its extension creating a bridge to the other side of the dream city. It was amazing. The talent and vivid imagination were the perfect qualities for the best Architect, and Dominic Cobb had both of them and more.

The man whose imagination shaped the world around them stood a few feet away, scrutinizing the surroundings with a critical eye. The fingers of his right hand twitched and the nearest building crumpled, fractures marring the glass surface, and soundlessly collapsed right on the spot it was standing on, not even a fragment escaping the square of the building foundation. The view that opened was a no less breathtaking demonstration of the man's abilities. It was a green valley with the same river running through it.

"Not good enough," Cobb muttered and the valley disappeared, replaced by the continuation of the city.

"Maybe we should take a break?" Eames suggested good naturedly, thinking the man was too stressed to go on with work.

"No, it's fine. I…" Cobb trailed away, looking around again. "I have it all planned, I just can't decide on the scene." He grew silent. His sharp eyes scanned the city and then the river behind. Eames understood his doubts; the city scape would be familiar to their mark, playing with his mind, deceiving and issuing the dream for reality. On the other hand the beauty of the nature would remind him of the time he had spent with his grandparents as a child, relaxing and bringing a false sense of safety.

"Come on, let's have a drink." Eames suggested, leading the way to the nearby bar. The interior was all thought through – another proof of Cobb's talent. The light dimmed as they entered, creating a more relaxing atmosphere in a familiar setting – it was kind of a standard affair with a bar stand on their right and small wooden tables on the left. Soft music played in the background and the projections swayed on the small dance floor at the back. They settled on the stools by the bar and the bartender brought them drinks without asking for the orders.

Eames took his whiskey on the rocks and sipped at it with contempt. He watched the crowd milling about, projections representing Cobb's consciousness. They were all calm, despite the constant changes of the dream space just minutes ago because Cobb was the one doing it; Eames was sure had he attempted a change he would have been torn apart in seconds, literally. The semi casual clothes betrayed the Architect's tendency to keep everything in order but not to fret over it too much, strict but understanding – but Eames already knew that from working with him. It was their second job together and the Forger didn't mind working with him again in the future; it was always a pleasure to be around a person who was so loyal to his work, not to mention one of the best in the field.

"The city would probably be better," Cobb said, breaking into his train of thought.

Eames hummed in agreement; it wasn't really his field so he preferred leaving all decisions to the Architect. Though he still half turned to the right and regarded the man. Cobb looked at him with tired eyes.

"We just have to make it seem real. The mark is familiar with the idea of dream sharing, so we have to create the setting good enough to fool him."

"Maybe then we should choose an atmosphere that is familiar to him now and not the one based on his childhood memories?" Eames ventured, deciding that this time his opinion could be useful.

Cobb nodded. "Probably." He put the glass in his hand to his lips and drowned it in one swallow before sliding it over the polished tabletop for the bartender to refill. The projections moved around them, one brushing over Eames's back while passing him and stopping by the bar on the other side of Cobb.

"Don't forget about me," Eames chuckled. "I'm not the best Forger for nothing."

"Self-proclaimed, you mean?"

"Try and find someone better." Eames grumbled, but he wasn't offended by the comment. He had not worked that much to get the appreciation, but he knew his abilities and his limits, knew that he had the potential to best all the other Forgers. Cobb recognized that in him as well; their whole relationship was built on their respect of each other's talents.

"I can't stop thinking that maybe there is another way…"

"Such as…?"

"What if we could…" Cobb stumbled over his own words, watching the bartender pass them, as if they could be overheard, as if it'd matter. "What if we could turn his own subconscious against him?"

"That would be a handy trick." Eames commented and took a sip of his drink. "Not sure it's possible though."

Cobb nodded briskly. "But what if we tell him the truth. Tell him his consciousness is invaded?"

Eames thought about it for a moment. The idea seemed reckless and bound to fail, but the glint in the Architect's eyes made him want to believe this man. Though he still could not fathom how this might work. Meanwhile, Cobb continued. "What if we show him that he's in a dream since there is a high risk for him to discover it on his own? This is-"

"Stupid." A clear youthful voice interjected, stopping Cobb's anxious musings and making both dream workers turn to the direction of the voice. Eames drew out his gun before he even saw who it was.

"Stop." Cobb almost shouted and grabbed his hand to prevent him from shooting. Only then did Eames get a chance to take in the one who had spoken. It was a young man, the same one who had passed him and took a seat by Cobb. A pale handsome face stared back at him, not intimidated in the least by the threat of being shot in the head just a second ago; brown eyes regarded him, calm and calculating. Then he tilted his head to the side and a corner of his mouth turned upward as if in a mocking smirk. He was wearing a casual suit which made him look older than he probably was, though it suited him well, adding elegance to his good looks.

"Don't," Cobb sighed out and, when he was sure that Eames wouldn't attempt to shoot, turned to the young man as well.

"How did you get here?" The Forger asked, adding only a note of intimidation into his tone. He got the feeling that the kid wasn't a threat to them, but still needed to figure out how he managed to get into the dream.

The young man's smirk grew and he shrugged. Hands in the pockets of his trousers, he leaned onto the bar and simply observed them.

"He's a projection." Cobb said.

That made Eames take a second look at the young man. He certainly didn't look like an ordinary mindless projection. Hell, he didn't look like any projection at all.

"My projection," the Architect repeated to convince Eames.

And that's how far Cobb's limits went, Eames decided. His imagination, so wild and active it was capable of not only creating locations, making them realistic to perfection, but it also could come up with projections that could be easily mistaken for real people.

"Amazing." Eames said with a smile. "Merely a projection but so…" He could not find the words to describe the young man. It seemed he had intelligence of his own.

"Well, not merely a projection," Cobb shifted, uncomfortable, and glanced at the Forger. For a second when their eyes met, Eames thought he saw unease in his gaze. It was soon gone as Cobb faced the projection again. "Why?"

"Because you are thinking about doing something stupid." The projection replied readily. His voice was lower and deeper than Eames expected, but still sounded nice.

Cobb snorted at that and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, what else…"

"You know how reckless that is." The projection said. "Or else I wouldn't be here."

"I haven't even come to a conclusion yet. The idea had not even formed and yet, here you are, proclaiming how stupid it is."

"That's how it is." The projection nodded.

"Of course. As always, Arthur – the voice of reason." Cobb snorted. It sounded tired, but not spiteful as it might have. He heaved a sigh. His eyes never left the projection of the young man, whose expression softened and whose smirk turned into a small smile.

It was obvious that whoever this Arthur was he was close to Cobb, close enough for the Architect to listen to his advice. Which in turn led him to the conclusion that the projection had an actual equivalent in the real world.

"Fine." Cobb nodded, more to himself than to the projection, though in this situation it seemed the same thing. His next words were addressed to Eames. "We'll go with the city scape, play with his sense of familiarity."

Eames looked past Cobb, at the young man to see his reaction. He was smiling. A lovely gentle smile graced his lips, changing his whole face and finally making him look his age. Eames, as a man whose profession was to study and impersonate people, was amazed.

"Good luck, Dominic." He wished, voice soft and smooth while he reached with one hand and squeezed his shoulder.

At that moment Eames's curiosity about who that young man was peaked and he dived into a further study of his character based on the details he could notice. Who could this young man be to Cobb? Surely someone close, a person the Architect knew well enough to be able to replicate the character in a dream, completely unconsciously to boot. So he had to be a close friend, or a part of the family, maybe? On the other hand, Eames could not estimate how accurate the copy was.

The young man, though Eames had to willfully stop himself before calling him a boy because he looked so young he might had been a high school student if the suit he was wearing didn't add a few years. He had a pretty face, Eames could not call him gorgeous just yet but maybe in a couple of years…He also acted very mature, the way he held himself and the way he spoke, like he treated Cobb as an equal. If this was just an echo of the real 'Arthur', Eames wanted to meet him in person.

Eames was about to ask Cobb about the young man but in the next second the dream was collapsing around them, projections fading into nonexistence. The last thing he saw was Arthur's smile and then he blinked his eyes open in reality.

Cobb was already out of his chair and across the hotel room, by the table with drawings and layouts, creating the city maze. Eames watched him for a moment, contemplating asking about the projection, but then decided not to distract the Architect. He postponed the question for later. 'Later' did not come until their next job together, more than half a year later.

"Just shoot him." A cold voice commanded. No trace of emotion, neither sympathy nor anger, colored that voice; it sounded somehow familiar but the intonations were all wrong and in his state Eames couldn't match it with a face in his mind.

"Shut up." Cobb barked at the one the voice belonged to, not pausing in his pacing. He was anxious, unable to stop for a second, running one hand through his hair while in the other he clutched a gun.

They had barricaded themselves in a small basement room of the hotel – the ending point of their maze, in an attempt to hide from the militarized subconscious of their mark. They were not ready for such a rebuff. The third member of their team, an Extractor and also the one who was responsible for gathering information, was already out of the dream, killed by the projections, hopefully guarding their sleeping bodies and not gathering his things and running away. Cobb though still hoped to get the job done and, frankly, knowing what the consequences would be if they wouldn't, Eames was on his side.

"Cobb." Said the third and the last person in the closed-up room – the one who should not be there. Icy cold voice repeated the command. "Kill him."

"No." Cobb replied.

"It will just wake him up." He sounded exasperated, Eames was sure the words were completed with a proper eye roll. It was a shame that the Forger did not have a chance to check though. For him everything was blurry and every object in the line of his vision doubled. He felt dizzy from the blood loss but at least it numbed the pain. Eames's hand clutched a bloody bullet wound at his side while he sat by the wall of the room.

Over the roaring in his ears he heard footsteps crossing the room and then there were legs in the line of his vision; nice long legs clad in perfectly fitting trousers, he noted absent-mindedly. Even in a half conscious state his mind was generous on innuendos and happily pointed out details worth the effort.

"I will do it then."

"No you won't!" There was Cobb, stepping in between Eames and the other man. The Architect, turned Extractor at that moment, was losing his cool. His hands gestured erratically while he raised his voice, not screaming yet but certainly sounding far from normal. "We have to finish the job. I'll get the information, but we need a distraction. And Eames can provide that."

"He's a blink away from waking up in reality," the voice replied, still emotionless and calm.

Cobb turned; Eames could see his feet changing position and made the conclusion that the Architect was now facing him. Behind Cobb black polished shoes took a measured step forward.

"Eames?"

The Forger grunted, deeming it enough to indicate that he was paying the man his full attention.

"Eames?" Cobb's voice sounded almost worried. The Architect lowered to one knee to peer at him closely.

Looking up took an effort so when Eames lifted his head his eyes immediately settled on the person standing behind Cobb.

"Ah," he breathed out. How could he not understand it earlier? A grin spread over his face. "Hello, darling."

The projection paid no mind to light flirting, only squinted his eyes as he watched Eames's face. "He's barely staying conscious." He commented.

Cobb didn't reply, his lips pressed into a thin line and hand tightened on the handle of the gun. He got back to his feet and sharply turned back to face the projection.

"You do realize that standing between the two of us isn't going to stop me from shooting him, don't you?" Arthur asked, tilting his head to the side; he seemed genuinely curious. "Because my aim is certainly not that bad, especially seeing how the target is a few feet away."

"You are my projection." Cobb's tone didn't waver, confident, but the way he fidgeted, shifting from foot to foot, betrayed his nerves; the man himself wasn't sure how far his control over the projection stretched. It should be absolute but when the projection talked back like that and acted as if from its own will, it was easy to get confused and let the insecurities cloud your vision.

"Yes," the projection agreed easily, not leaving any doubts to that statement. "And even though you don't like to think about it, you know how good my shooting skills are."

The Architect stared at his projection in silence for a long moment – the younger man watched him in return, calmly – and then he hung his head in defeat. "I know, Arthur, I know but I…"

"You don't want to see me like this." The regret that obviously belonged to Cobb shone in the words of his projection. "You should have called me."

Eames would have followed the conversation with interest if not for the bullet wound pulsing with pain in his side; he pressed with his hand on it, trying to stop the bleeding, but it didn't help much. Cobb's internal struggle, however curious and animated it was, was going to cost them the job and Eames, despite his state, wasn't ready to give up on that yet. He looked up at the Architect's back, shoulders slumped, and past him at the young man. A beautiful young man, who obviously wanted to look older than he actually was and that, unfortunately as Eames thought, worked for him pretty well. He cast that thought aside and was ready to reprimand the man and his projection for wasting his time, but Cobb's next statement made words freeze in his mouth.

"How can I drag my own brother into a criminal mess?"

"I already am a part of this mess," the projection retorted. "You just don't want to acknowledge this."

"Arthur-"

"Gentlemen," Eames finally interfered. His voice sounded weak even to his own ears. "I can sit and listen to you arguing for a whole day but we only have twelve minutes left."

Cobb nodded sharply. "Yes, you are right. You," he turned to Arthur. "Just…leave. Eames, stay here. Will you be able to create a diversion to distract the projections?"

Eames waved at him with his hand, fingers and palm all red from his own blood. "I will try," he said. "But I can't promise you anything."

"I know. I'm sorry." Cobb ran his fingers through his hair in a gesture of distress.

"If you called me you wouldn't have found yourself in a situation like this," the projection noted absent-mindedly. "You know how good I am at gathering information."

"I know I can pull it off." The Architect now turned Extractor ignored the comment. "I know where the safe is."

"Well…" Eames put the hand not holding the wound at the wall behind him and used it as leverage to help himself up. Leaning on it heavily, he pulled a gun from the inner pocket of his jacket. "Let's do it then."

He pushed himself from the wall, nearly stumbled but managed to regain balance. Unexpectedly, Cobb's projection darted to him with one hand extended to help Eames stand. Long slim fingers circled his wrist, hoisting up when he stumbled again. The cold and soft skin of the young man's palm was pressed to the feverish skin of his forearm, touch gentle but strong and reliable.

"I'll help you." It was the first time the projection actually spoke to the Forger.

Arthur's voice was soft and his dark brown eyes were solely focused on Eames, serious but somewhat gentle. It caught Eames by surprise, the sudden concern from someone who'd wanted to kill him just a moment ago. An idea that it was actually Cobb's concern for his condition shining through the projection's expression flittered through his mind but didn't stay there for long – it was more pleasurable to think that an attractive young man was worried about him. Projection or not, it was always a pleasure.

"You won't be able to," Cobb interjected into his inner musings.

Eames tore his eyes from the projection. "Why not?"

"Because he's my projection." The Architect explained. "He may seem independent, but he's still a part of my consciousness. He cannot act on his own."

"Well, that's a pity. As always, have to do everything myself." Eames concluded with a chuckle. He made it sound light and humorous in a futile attempt to lift the mood. His side pulsed with pain but the bleeding had almost stopped and he found himself able to concentrate through the haze in his mind. The dizziness had increased since he stood up but, Eames decided, he could work around it. "Let's get to work, gentlemen."

Cobb gave him a sharp nod, a look in the eye, testing Eames's ability to complete his task, and left through one of the doors, leaving it open in his wake. His projection lingered, watching the Forger with curious eyes.

That's when Eames got the idea he found very difficult to resist. As he watched the young man with a name that suited him (but no, not really) he desperately wanted to kiss Arthur. Because, you see, Eames was a collector. And not your usual collector who kept a box with pieces of his collection on the top shelf in the cupboard or even in a glass case in the hall. Even though his collection was not tangible, it was no less precious to him. Because Eames collected kisses. Steeling kisses from young pretty women and men was always his favorite hobby and after some time every small kiss, given voluntary or stolen in a moment of inattentiveness, stayed in his memory. Each one was so different from the other, the slight pressure of lips, an exhale of pleasure or surprise; leaning closer, pulling away or pushing him away – the outcome didn't matter, the process was priceless.

He had never kissed a projection before though. Never wanted to. This time though…But kissing a piece of another person's consciousness would just be confusing, in a bad way. Technically he would be kissing Dominic Cobb and the man was somewhat attractive but definitely not the Forger's type; Eames was sure he didn't want that.

Watching Arthur hesitate in the doorway, his pretty face creased with a frown of confusion and contemplation but hand holding the gun steadily, was such a temptation. The young man glanced at him and then back into the corridor where Cobb had disappeared. The projection was drawn to its creator but probably some traits of Arthur's personality recreated by Cobb's consciousness left him with this insatiable curiosity.

"Well, go on, darling." Eames smiled at him. "Run along. Help your…brother," somehow the world 'creator' didn't seem appropriate.

Arthur graced him with a small smirk – a pleasurable sight, and left. This projection had enough intelligence and mind of his own to help Cobb steal the information.

As Eames watched the empty doorway for a short moment, he sincerely hoped he'd have a chance to steal a kiss from Arthur in reality.

"Oh dear…" Eames stopped in his tracks; the echo of his footsteps died down in the almost empty warehouse while he stared at the person greeting him. The bang of a heavy iron door closing behind him startled Eames, but not enough to distract him from the handsome young man who was now eyeing him back with curiosity. "I mean. Hello, darling." Eames made a useless attempt to make up for his mistake.

The young man didn't look impressed with his half confident leer. Because if you cannot leer with full confidence of an experienced flirt don't even try it, and right at that moment the Forger was too overcome with surprise to produce his perfect professional leer.

"I wasn't expecting to see you here." Eames got over his moment of shock.

"Have we met before?" The young man asked with confusion. A face Eames remembered very well, scrunched in a frown – still as adorable as the Forger's memory depicted.

"I've met you, dear Arthur. Unfortunately you didn't have the pleasure of meeting me. Yet." In a confident stride he neared the young man, carelessly throwing his bag on a chair by the desk and stopping just a step away from him. "I'm Eames."

Arthur looked at the extended hand warily but took it nonetheless. "I'm…aware of that, Mr. Eames. I've read your file. I have to admit it was pretty easy to find information about you. You should be more careful in the future. I don't want to be caught because of your mistakes…And could you let go of my hand already?"

"Let go? Oh, yeah. Sorry." Eames didn't look apologetic as he let his hand fall back to his side. Feeling the young man's hand was close to what he remembered from the dream and yet so much better. No dream could compare to reality because no matter how vivid Cobb's imagination was, it could not reproduce with precision every small detail. Eames found himself smiling at the idea of finally meeting Arthur. Not just a projection of Dominic Cobb's younger brother but a real person. Separate from all Dom's expectations and judgments.

Arthur eyed him strangely, probably confused with Eames's behavior. To him it must have seemed odd. After a moment of silence when each waited for the other to speak, Arthur gathered his wits and, half turning to the table, started talking. First came an awkward late greeting:

"Welcome to Saint-Petersburg, Mr. Eames. Cobb told me you'd be able to help us in our delicate situation. Your skill will be very useful." He shuffled some papers on the desk, finding a file underneath. He handed it to Eames. "Read through this. It contains all the information on the mark."

He continued talking but Eames shut down everything except the sound of his voice, not taking in the meaning, observing the young man. In reality his face was slightly different, every feature more pronounced, hazel eyes had brighter streaks in them, voice deeper and lower than the projection's. This Arthur was a person of his own.

"Is that clear?" Arthur finished his instructions and Eames's mind snapped back to attention.

"Of course, darling." The Forger replied with a charming smile.

"Could you…" The young man started uncertainly but trailed away. "Could you stop that?"

"What?"

"This…This familiarity in addressing me."

"Oh darling, please don't feel embarrassed."

"Mr. Eames." Arthur said sternly, his face closing up and warm hazel eyes narrowing in exasperation.

"Sorry, just a habit." Eames reassured him, his tone not apologetic in the least. He put the folder under his arm and reached the other hand forward. "I'm sure we'll work fine together."

Arthur took his hand, this time the handshake brief. Then he nodded and smiled and Eames found one more detail that Cobb's mind failed to reproduce. As the smile graced Arthur's handsome face, dimples appeared on his cheeks. Small enticing dimples.

Succumbing to the urge, Eames grabbed his hand again and pulled Arthur closer, leaning toward him and slotting their lips together for one short moment. It was brief, just a peck, and he was moving back and almost jumping away to avoid being hit. It was not an unusual reaction to him stealing a kiss, but Eames considered it a fair price. But Arthur was just standing there, staring at him with those wide brown eyes and a slight blush slowly making its way along his pale skin.

"See you." Eames smirked and hastened to retreat, leaving the startled young man behind.

A kiss to his collection.

True, a very small one, but he did leave hope at the thought of receiving a proper one later.