*AUG 18, 2012 NOTICE* FFnet took down 25 of my stories because they deemed the content 'inappropriate'. Because of this, any story I post with this notice at the beginning will be censored and incomplete. I will have edited it to make it suitable for FFnet and will still be a 'story', but in my opinion the quality will be decreased. I have either taken out scenes for sexual content or violence. If you would like to read the full story, which I strongly recommend, you can do so on AO3 here: archiveofourown(dot-org)/users/OneWhoSitsWithTurtles.

At least 50% of my stories cannot be reposted on FFnet because they will be removed again and I could get banned. I strongly encourage you to simply bookmark my AO3 page and read all my stories there. You can also follow me on Tumblr for story update news, here: onewhositswiththeturtles(dot-tumblr-dot-com)

Thank you.

Star-Crossed

An Inception fanfiction novel

Disclaimer: I do not own Inception or the characters

Warning: M/M pairing

Rating: M (this is for later chapters)

Pairing: Arthur/Eames

Note: This is entirely pre-movie. And yes, you read 'novel' correctly. This will be a long, multi-chaptered story. Because it is so long I've tried to make each chapter like a mini story to keep it interesting, but they will be parts of a larger whole. And just as a pre-warning, the quality will probably be lacking a little bit just because I'm writing a full length novel in about 3 weeks.

I'll be posting on Fridays unless I die or my computer dies.

Summary: They are both new to dream work and they both have something to prove. Arthur is there to steal secrets; Eames is there to steal a persona. Unfortunately, they are each other's mark and they're both determined to succeed. Arthur/Eames

Day One

Arthur

He pulled his suitcase along behind him over the intricate tile design of the lobby, off-white tiles creating circles and swirls that would require a bird's eye view to be fully appreciated. As he crossed towards the front desk of the hotel, the wheels of his suitcase making tiny thudding noises as it passed over the tiles, he saw a few people look up at his passing. There were a few couches set up along his path, most likely so that people waiting to be served or to meet someone could be comfortable. A hotel this lavish would always hold their customer's comfort as a high priority. And you knew you were in a nice hotel when the ground floor was merely used as an entrance and the actual hotel, including the front desk, could be found two floors up.

He watched out of the corner of his eye as people glanced up at him, but everyone looked away quickly. They were simply curious – no one to be concerned about. Finally, he stepped up to the front desk, a middle-aged woman greeting him with a warm smile. Arthur had to appreciate her obvious professionalism and poise, dressed smartly in black and looking like she was ready to hand a king his schedule for the day. When he glanced around quickly he noted that all of the hotel staff were dressed similarly, holding themselves with a similar air of professionalism. He loved high-end hotels for this.

"So I see that you have a room pre-booked for one week…Originally a suite facing the city but I see that there was a change made," she paused as she skimmed over Arthur's confirmation papers and then through the hotel computer system.

"Oh?" Arthur asked, trying not to panic. He could barely afford to stay at this hotel as it was. The only reason he was here was because of the job he had been given.

"Yes…There's a note here saying that someone called to upgrade you to a Balcony King Suite on our Regency floor. The man left you a message… 'I hope this helps you complete your job'. My, that's a nice employer you have there," she smiled up at him politely, taking note of Arthur's stunned expression.

With nothing else to do, Arthur chuckled and tried to push away his surprise and nerves, "Absolutely." He forced a smile, wondering how the hell he was supposed to pay for one of this high-end hotel's best rooms, "So uh, credit card?"

"Oh, no your employer already paid for the room. You'll simply have to pay for any extra charges at the end of your week, like if you use the bar or buy movies," she explained, seeming to realize how out of place Arthur was. Not that it should have been surprising; not many twenty three year olds could afford staying in a place like this for a week.

Arthur appreciated the added help but was frustrated that he was acting so out of place. He forced himself back into a calm exterior and nodded politely, not showing how utterly stunned he was by the fact that his 'employer' was willing to pay for a $350-a-night room for an entire week. "Alright."

The hostess was busy getting a key card made for him, handing the blue card that looked like a blank credit card across the desk to him along with his papers. "Alright, so you'll be on our top floor in room 1731. Our Regency floor has added security for when we have dignitaries visiting, so when you get into the elevator you will need to slide this card into the slot before you will be able to select your floor."

Arthur nodded, packing his papers carefully away in his shoulder bag and slipping his key card into his pocket. "Is there anything else?"

"Just one more thing; I'll be back in just a moment," the woman continued smiling as she left the desk to disappear into a back room. Arthur wondered briefly how straining it was, forcing yourself to smile all day at strangers who splurged more on a bottle of wine than you probably made in a week. He glanced around the lobby briefly while he waited, a few more people waiting in line now that it was getting to be later in the day. The woman returned, blond ringlets bouncing with each step. "Here you are; the hotel received this the same day as your employer called and he requested we give it to you when you arrived. Enjoy your stay in San Francisco and my name is Janet if you need any help."

"Thank you," Arthur smiled and took the offered letter, sealed away in a plain white envelope without a spot of ink on it. With one last polite nod at Janet he grasped his suitcase and began pulling it away from the front desk towards the elevators, letter stuffed carefully in his secure bag.

As he walked across the tiles he could not help but pause for a moment, taking in the grandeur of the hotel. The building was huge in itself, seventeen floors and plenty of rooms on each. As he looked up he saw that the entire interior of the hotel was hollowed out so that the hallway of each floor was actually a balcony that looked inwards onto the lobby, restaurant and bar. He could see a few people walking along, ducking in and out of rooms or glancing over the balcony to watch the people below like ants.

In the centre of the lobby there was a long water feature where you could sit beside a stream of running water, sunlight filtering in through the glass ceiling to sparkle on the water's surface. The restaurant was closest to the front desk, furniture and setup looking just as extravagant as the rest of the hotel. The chairs looked comfortable and inviting and the food on the tables that he could see reminded him that he had not eaten in a long time.

But what really caught his attention was the cascade of lights hanging over the restaurant and bar. Seven layers of stringed lights hanging in a curtain from the balconies above, covering half the length of the entire hotel interior. Because of the seven layers of separated fairy lights it looked as if a waterfall of light was frozen just above the restaurant, bathing everything in a warm glow. He was half tempted to just take a seat at the restaurant now and gawk but reminded himself that he had an image to uphold.

Instead, he returned his attention to the elevators. There were five jumping between floors and Arthur was overwhelmed but not surprised that they held just as much intricate detail as the rest of the hotel. They were circular and entirely glass, allowing guests to watch the lobby while they traveled. The top and bottom of each elevator was glowing, lights hidden beneath the fogged glass material, and looking like a closed rose blossom just beginning to open.

He stepped into an empty elevator and slipped his card into the slot to select his floor. As the elevator began its smooth ascent he moved over to the glass wall, allowing a moment of wonderment over the hotel since he was alone. He decided right then that someday he wanted to be rich enough to stay in places like this without batting an eyelash. And if this job went well he would have more than a foot in the door for that future.

This thought caused his stomach to clench with nerves, remembering how important this job was if he wanted to make a profession of dream work. Legal dream work required years of school, internships and training. Getting into that had not been a problem, but he quickly found that the 'legal' part of the profession made the jobs dull and monotonous, creativity and freedom cut out of the dreamscape. And really, what was the point in that?

Unfortunately, illegal dream work was both more dangerous and more challenging to get into. He had quickly discovered that the professionals were very cautious about who they dream shared with. He also learned that he had to be just as cautious and picky in return. It was difficult to find a match, and even when you did that didn't bring immediate trust.

Arthur had been surprised and suspicious when his new employer approached him despite the fact that he seemed down to earth and friendly. It was difficult to trust a man who came out of nowhere and offered you everything you wanted. But since this was probably the best opportunity he'd ever receive, he had sat down and listened to what the man had to say.

The man had been in the process of attempting to pull together a permanent team, which was not unheard of but certainly not common in the profession. He already had an architect – who Arthur would meet if he joined the team – and was instead looking for a Point Man. He had explained to Arthur what this role entailed, not seeming to mind Arthur's inexperience with the illegal side of the profession at that point.

As a Point Man his primary responsibility would be to research the mark and to bring as much information as he could to the team in order to make the dreamscape and the job successful. However, he would also be in charge of assessing situations to determine and overcome risks and keep every team member prepared and safe. Lastly, what Arthur had been so surprised by, he would be the unofficial second in the team. He would be required to take over the job if the leader was, for some reason, incapacitated. That meant Arthur had to have some skills in every field: extractor, architect, thief.

It was certainly a demanding role and the idea sat heavy in his stomach even as it made his heart rate pick up with excitement. He slipped out of the elevator to find his room, remembering the tests he had gone through, both in reality and in a dreamscape, to prove his worth to this man. He had been pleased when he seemed to impress the other man. He thought that he'd get the job for sure even if he still needed more practice since that would come with experience.

But then, instead of being welcomed onto the team, Arthur found himself shouldered with a solo job – his first solo job in illegal dream work. His employer had explained that if he completed this job successfully he would be a fully fledged member of the team. This, of course, only mounted the pressure further beyond Arthur's initial sense of being overwhelmed by the thought of a solo job.

Arthur's thoughts paused as he stopped in a little alcove, reading 1731 in gold on the heavy looking door and slipping his card into the lock. Once he was in he threw the deadbolt closed and set his suitcase against a wall, looking around at his room. There was a large safe in the closet by the door which he immediately reset and slipped his laptop into. After that he stepped further in to see the bathroom, wide expanse of mirror and black marble counter while the shower looked almost comically large.

The room itself was huge and he could not quite understand why someone would need this much space. There was a large king sized bed covered in pillows and facing a wall of windows and his balcony. A television was settled on a dresser, the screen much larger than what Arthur owned at home. Further into the room there was a writing desk as well as two plush couches facing one another beside the windows.

He was drawn to the balcony, sliding the glass door open as he wondered if he would be able to see the Golden Gate Bridge from here. When he stepped out and stood against the railing, a damp breeze wrapping around him from the bay, he found that he was facing the wrong direction to see that famous landmark. However he was almost directly facing the San Francisco Bay and was able to see the main ferry building and another suspension bridge easily. He had never been to San Francisco before and was hoping that following the mark might actually provide him with an excuse to see some of the sights.

This thought returned his attention to his job and he entered his room again, leaving the door slightly ajar for some fresh air as he picked up his shoulder bag. He pulled out the unmarked envelope and tore it open carefully, feeling excited nerves dance through him as he unfolded the paper.

Arthur,

A photograph of your mark is enclosed. His name is Eames and he will be staying in room 1730 next to you; this should help you keep track of him. I want you to collect as much information on this man as you can in your one week time period. Use every means available to you, legal or otherwise. When your week is up the hotel desk will have a plane ticket for you to come see me and share your results.

Best of luck.

Arthur raised an eyebrow and pulled out the photograph tucked between sheets of blank paper. As he held it under the lamplight he had to admit that the man was very attractive. He couldn't have been much older than Arthur, maybe a few years at most. His hair was a light brown and seemed to be cut rather short, though it was just long enough for the wind in this photo to make a few strands stand on end. There was a thin layer of scruff covering the man's strong jaw and face, which would have looked unkempt on Arthur but simply looked rugged on this man.

One thing that stood out in the photograph was the man's eyes, which lit up with a blue green mix in the sunlight similar to an ocean. The man's eyebrows were furrowed and his eyes were frozen, glancing down in apparent thought. But despite the somewhat conflicted look in the man's eyes, the rest of his face looked soft to the touch and relaxed. His mark was dressed in a pair of jeans and an ugly looking shirt and Arthur could not help but wonder if he would be forced to look at shirts like that for an entire week.

He himself was in a neatly pressed suit, wearing what a hotel of this scale looked for. But despite that, he had always preferred wearing suits when on a job. Looking professional, confident and calm helped him feel the same. He stared at the photo for another long moment under the warm glow of the lamp before he slipped it, the letter, and his other important documentation into the safe beside his personalized laptop.

Arthur decided to have a quick shower and change into a fresh suit before heading back down to the lobby. He did not know when his mark would arrive so at the present moment his priority was finding food. Jetlag had never had a huge impact on him in terms of tiredness, but it always messed up his eating habits. He closed his door solidly behind him and looked over at room 1730 briefly before heading towards the elevators. There would be no point in knocking on the door since he always preferred the incognito method of information gathering.

It was still relatively early for dinner when he approached the hotel restaurant so there was no line in front of him. He requested a table along the edge of the lobby so that he would be able to keep an eye out for his mark, but otherwise allowed himself a moment of personal time to focus on food. The sun must have been close to setting outside by that point because the interior of the hotel was dimming. The only thing lighting up his table was the showering lights above him and he enjoyed the golden glow, feeling like he was sitting under a cluster of stars.

His dinner did not last long and he excused himself to travel the short distance along the hotel lobby to find a comfortable couch in the bar lounge area. He sunk into the dark red cushions with a tired sigh, making sure he could see the majority of the lobby from where he was sitting. He was able to watch the restaurant beside him, the elevators, the waiting area and the front desk.

A server came over and he ordered a light drink to begin with, not knowing how long he would have to remain here on lookout for his mark. He was eager to spot his mark tonight and maybe even learn a few things through observation so that he could begin utilizing the free internet in his room. The name his employer had provided him with was not very helpful so he was hoping to learn a bit more to pair with the name. Was Eames the man's first name? Last name? Did he even have one of each? Arthur rolled his eyes and took a sip of his drink, returning his attention to the lobby.

There were a lot of children squealing and giggling in the lobby, dashing around by the water and under the shimmering curtain of lights in delight while their parents followed them in amused exasperation. It made sense that there were a lot of families here right now considering the fact that it was the middle of summer and the perfect time for a vacation. However, Arthur could not understand affording to bring children to a hotel like this. Wasn't this the sort of place you checked into if you wanted a private weekend away? He shrugged to himself, knowing that his family's financial situation was much different than other people and ordered a second drink.

Arthur was about halfway through his second drink when he saw Eames. He almost missed him at first because he was not expecting the man to be dressed up. But he noticed the face and broad shoulders as the man crossed the lobby and got a seat in the restaurant. From what Arthur could tell at a distance the other man had dressed up but had been somewhat reluctant to go all out. He was in dress pants and wore a nicely pressed collared shirt; though ironing did nothing to save the shirt from the fabric's pattern. The top two buttons were undone though, lacking a tie and revealing his neck.

He remained where he was sitting and watched as the host seated the man at a lone table on the edge of the lobby. He saw Eames glance at the menu for a short time before setting it down and skimming his eyes around the vast hotel interior. What he was not expecting, however, was for Eames's eyes to skim past him and flicker back. Arthur felt his back straighten slightly as the stranger stared at him, returning the stare confidently for just a moment before glancing away and drinking.

Arthur was relieved to see that the other man had stopped staring at him when he looked back up, seemingly engrossed in the free bread and then the main course when it arrived. He watched the other man quietly, suddenly feeling a little nervous but doing his best not to show it. A small handful of people in both business and casual attire were beginning to populate the lounge and bar, though no one took the seat opposite him.

He finished his second drink, glad he had decided to go lighter and drink slower as he felt the tiredness of jetlag begin. But just as he set his empty glass on the table between the two couches he saw feet approaching. He straightened in time to see his mark – Eames – sauntering towards him, each hand occupied by a drink. He allows himself one blink of surprise before his mask of calm indifference slipped onto his face and he looked up to meet those eyes up close.

He was not sure what to expect, but having Eames sit down beside him on the same couch and slide a drink – the same kind he had just finished – along the table to him was certainly at the bottom of the list. Arthur looked down at the drink suspiciously for a moment, not liking how the situation had suddenly fallen out of his control. "I don't accept drinks from strangers."

The man beside him chuckled, "Then how do strangers have any hope of getting into those fancy pants of yours?"

"They don't," Arthur bit out harshly, hoping to deter the man. He knew that he should keep the man around just to learn more information – drunks loved to tell you everything – but at that moment he could only think of getting as far from this stranger as possible.

The other man seemed unfazed though and simply smirked, raising a hand to motion over another server to their couch. "Yes, another mojito for my friend, please? This time without the arsenic." The server briefly looked like he was going to have a heart attack until Eames chuckled again and Arthur rolled his eyes. The poor server rushed away after one more nervous look between the two men and Arthur levelled a glare at the other man. "The name is Eames, by the way, and what should I be calling you?"

"Leaving," Arthur spoke and stood from the couch quickly.

He felt warm fingers twine around his wrist insistently and stop his movements. He looked back down at the other man, furious to see Eames pouting and jutting his lip out like a five year old. "Forgive me, darling, I was just having a little fun. Sit with me a while?"

Arthur hovered for a moment, reminding himself that this was what he had been hoping for even though it had not happened the way he had planned. With a frustrated sigh he allowed that hand to pull him back down onto the couch before knocking it away. He slipped down into the cushions again, mentally debating with himself over whether telling the man his name was an intelligent move. A first name wouldn't get him very far, especially if he was just trying to flirt. He took a long drink of his new mojito when the server brought it and set it down, "Arthur."

"Pleasure to meet you, Arthur," Eames held his glass up for a moment in a type of toast before taking a similarly long drink. "So what brings you to San Francisco?"

"Business," Arthur answered casually, deciding to cradle his sweating glass in his hands to keep himself occupied.

"Do you always give one word answers?" Eames leaned closer, smirking.

Arthur leaned back, curling up against the armrest and as far from the other man as he could manage, "Yes."

"It'll be like playing Twenty-Questions then," Eames smirked, apparently enjoying himself. "So what sort of business will you be doing?" Arthur remained silent and simply raised an eyebrow over the rim of his glass. "Oh, is that too open-ended? Alright, will you be in a lot of meetings?"

"No."

"Are you here alone?" Eames raised and wiggled a suggestive eyebrow.

Arthur sighed and paused for a moment, "Yes."

"No co-workers? No girlfriend?"

"No," Arthur answered blandly.

"Have you ever been to San Francisco before?" Eames watched Arthur for a moment before tipping his glass back, draining the rest of his drink.

"No, this is my first time here," Arthur spoke, getting tired of one word answers and glad to finally have a question that was safe to answer.

"Oh really?" Eames slid down the couch slightly, moving closer to him. Without many other options Arthur promptly stood up and moved to the opposite couch, glaring across the table at the other man. Eames watched him for a few moments across the table in amusement before continuing. "Well this is my first time here as well so what do you say we do some sightseeing together?"

"No," Arthur retorted immediately, cautious and unsettled by his mark taking control of his situation.

"Come on, darling," Eames pouted, elbows resting on knees and chin resting on hands. "I'm all alone here for a week with absolutely nothing to do." Arthur had known that Eames would only be there for a week, which was what his deadline was based on. Of course, if the man got bored and left he would have a much shorter time to prove his worth in information gathering.

Arthur was about to refuse Eames's offer again but took a moment to pause and consider the situation. He had been unprepared by his mark's approach, shoving his plan out the window. But he realized that things did not often go exactly as you planned in the field and you had to learn to be flexible and work with what the situation gave you. So, forcing his discomfort aside in favour of professionalism, he mulled over the man's offer.

He was quite confident in his ability to pull up information on this man without any help. He would begin by working his way into the hotel computer system to get the critical information that would help narrow down his searches, making sure he was researching the right person. After he got that first stepping stone of information there was not much that could stop him and he would work through the internet and contacts.

He truly did not need to spend any time with the man in person in order to gain enough knowledge to impress his employer. Besides, this job was supposed to test how he would research on a job, in the field. And Arthur knew for certain that he would not go sightseeing with his mark every time he wanted to learn something about them for a job. It was entirely unprofessional and not realistic for the job or his future in this profession.

However...Arthur could not help but consider how impressed his employer would be if he came back with more information than could ever be dragged up through internet, files and contacts. There was a lot of information this man might divulge to him as a sightseeing partner – as a companion – that he or anyone else may never uncover on their own. True, it was unprofessional and not practical about how he would normally deal with a mark on a job. But this was his one ticket into this profession and he had to really show off. He had to collect so much information that the employer had no choice but to hire him.

Arthur was determined to succeed, even if that meant sightseeing with his annoyingly flirtatious mark. Besides, he mentally reminded himself a little guiltily, this way he would be able to see the San Francisco sights while working. As he returned his attention to the present moment he realized that Eames was in the process of rambling out a list of reasons why Arthur should agree to sightsee with him. So before the man's irritating personality could accidentally change his mind in the wrong direction again, Arthur spoke over him, "...Alright."

"...And really, it's just sad to say you—wait, really?" Eames stopped mid-sentence, finally noticing Arthur's answer. Arthur rolled his eyes and nodded, picking up his forgotten drink again to finish it off. "Excellent! We'll start bright and early tomorrow, darling!"

"Don't call me that," Arthur sent Eames a warning glare before setting his empty glass on the table, ice clinking together before he stood up. "I'm going to bed."

"Can I call you pet?"

"No."

"Dear?"

"No."

"Sweetheart?"

"No."

"Doll?"

"No." By this point Eames had followed him across the emptying lobby and into the first elevator that showed up. Arthur was leaning his forehead against the cool glass, trying to distract himself away from his infuriating mark and his incoming headache by the dazzling wall of lights again.

"Kitten?" Eames continued on, giggling a little now. Arthur had not thought Eames had drunk enough to get tipsy, but one way or another… the man was clearly enjoying himself.

"No."

Eames suddenly cleared his throat before continuing, "Hon? Honey?"

"No and no."

"Sunshine? Wait no, your face looks too much like a thundercloud right now. How about 'love'?"

They were out of the elevator now and were crossing the balcony hallway towards their rooms. Arthur was not concerned by the fact that Eames was following him since his employer had helped him by setting up their rooms beside one another. But suddenly that did not seem like such a blessing. He looked over his shoulder at the man trailing behind him, raising an eyebrow, "Why would you call a stranger that?"

Eames paused for a moment before shrugging, "It's just a term of endearment."

"But why would you use a term of endearment on a stranger?" Arthur clarified his question, genuinely confused as he stuffed his hands in his pockets to pull out his key card.

"Just fun to watch you get riled up, love," Eames winked before sauntering away to the next door down the hall, room 1730.

With nothing more to be said, Arthur slipped his key in the lock and stepped into his room. He made sure that the door lock and deadbolt were both in place before he trudged over to the bed and collapsed on top of the covers. True, he was probably tired from the traveling more than anything else, but he was astounded by how exhausting a simple conversation with his mark could be.

Eventually he forced himself back into a sitting position, deciding that he needed to start collecting information with his normal methods. He changed out of his suit to keep it from getting wrinkled and hung it up beside his other suits in the closet before finding some clothes to sleep in. After that he closed all of his curtains and tiredly set up his laptop on the writing desk. He leaned back in his chair with a yawn while he waited for it to power up. Just then he heard a frantic knock at his door, nearly causing him to topple backwards in surprise.

He regained his balance hurriedly and pushed himself out of the chair curiously. Undoing the deadbolt and pulling open the door, Arthur was only mildly surprised to find Eames standing in the little alcove outside his door. "What do you want, Eames? It's late."

"It's not late, pet. It's not even ten thirty yet," Eames held his wrist out for Arthur to see his watch, though Arthur merely rolled his eyes and ignored it.

"Yes, well some of us have jetlag," Arthur rubbed his temples briefly, mentally praying for his headache to stay away.

Eames scoffed, "Jetlag? You want to talk about jetlag? I just flew here from London, and that's England mate, not Canada." This did not surprise Arthur based on the man's accent, but it was nice to have some assumptions confirmed. However Eames continued loudly, "But time zones hold no power over me!"

Arthur hushed the man hurriedly, glancing out of the room nervously with the noise, "Be quiet; you're in a fancy hotel here." Eames just pouted and Arthur realized quite quickly that Eames seemed just as out-of-place in this lavish hotel as he was. He saw the other man place a solid hand on the wall and he raised an eyebrow, "Are you drunk?"

"Only slightly, love," Eames smirked, taking a step forward. Arthur was considering closing the door on the man's face when suddenly his mark pulled out a piece of paper, waving it around in his free hand, "I came here with a purpose."

"Did you now?" Arthur drawled, eyes distracted by the mysterious sheet of paper.

"Yes. I came to give you this," Eames set the paper in his hands and then stepped back slightly. "It's a list of all the sights we can see in San Francisco. Your job is to rank them in order of what you want to see and slip it under my door so that I may plan our adventure. And I demand that the list be under my door before sunrise, you hear?" Eames pointed a threatening finger at him, though it wasn't very effective with the following giggle.

"Alright, now go back to your own room," Arthur began closing his door slowly, waiting for the other man to truly leave.

He saw Eames stuff his hands in his pockets, lazily at first and then more frantic, "Bollocks! I forgot my bloody key in my room." Those blue green eyes turned on him and Arthur was quite sure he was being given the original puppy dog eyes, "Could you call room service for me?"

Arthur's headache was fully fledged now and he was more than tempted to just slam his door closed and forget about having a mark until the morning. But this was a good opportunity to get this man owing him a favour…and he couldn't just leave him stranded out in the hallway. This hotel was very careful about making extra key cards and they would probably refuse to make Eames one without his identification…which was also locked in the room. So calling room service would make sense in that they would open the door and then Eames would be able to pay them once he was inside. "Fine."

"Thanks, darling," Eames grinned and slipped past Arthur into his room.

Arthur was about to protest the intrusion but then he felt a warm hand ghost down his arm as Eames entered the room; the priority of what to protest shifted, "Keep your hands to yourself and don't touch anything." He glared hotly at the other man, who simply shrugged his apology, before heading to his phone and trying to erase the lingering sensation.

He picked up the phone and punched in the number for room service, Eames plopping down on the edge of the mattress beside him, "Get some really fancy red wine."

He shot a quieting glare at the other man, "You've already had enough to drink—oh, hello," he switched tones when someone picked up. "I'd like to order room service for room 1730. Yes, the uh…" he looked over and saw Eames pointing at something on the menu frantically, like a child begging for a toy in a store, "The penne alfredo, please?" he raised a confused eyebrow at Eames but focused on the man speaking to him across the phone. "Yes…yes, thank you."

Arthur hung up the phone and stood up from the bed, suddenly realizing how close Eames had gotten while he was distracted. "So the food is on its way?"

"Yes, so how about you head out to your door and wait for it to arrive?" Arthur was not concerned about the man finding out why Arthur was here. He kept his room clean and orderly on basic principle and hid everything important away. But that did not mean that he felt comfortable with this drunk-flirtatious man in his room.

"But it'll take at least ten minutes!" Eames grumbled even as he pushed himself off the mattress and followed Arthur to the door.

"That's not my problem," Arthur shrugged, holding the door open with a very clear message.

"Well thanks Arthur," Eames smiled as he passed through the doorframe and back out into the hallway, "You've been a real doll." The pet name caused Arthur to roll his eyes and closed the door quickly, locking everything up. "See you in the morning!" Eames called at him through the door and Arthur could hear the man's muffled footsteps as he left.

"Great," Arthur grumbled sarcastically, "Can't wait."

All he wanted to do as he re-entered his room was to curl up under the fluffy duvet and sleep. But he bypassed the inviting bed reluctantly and returned to the writing desk, his laptop now powered up and ready to be put to good use. He logged in and began setting up the proper programs before connecting to the hotel's internet, thankful that it was wireless as it would make it even more difficult to trace back to his computer.

Once he was connected he opened up a new program, one he had created to work backwards through a network connection. When the progress bar popped up on his screen, warning him that this would take a while to get through the layers of security without tripping any alarms, he was not surprised. A hotel this up-scale would have a lot of important guests who would need their personal information locked up.

He sat back in his chair, rubbing his eyes tiredly and trying to force himself into staying awake while the progress bar slowly inched forward. He stared at the ceiling for a few minutes before dropping his gaze to find Eames's slightly crumpled list of San Francisco sights. With nothing better to do, Arthur grabbed a pen and began skimming the list and ranking the sights based on what he wanted to see.

When he was finished he saw that the progress bar was almost full and decided to return the list while he waited the last few minutes. With a drawn out groan he pulled himself out of the chair, grabbed his key card and wandered out into the hallway. As his door clicked behind him and he walked up to the door beside him he felt a little foolish, like children passing notes. But with a small eye roll of exasperation he bent down and slipped the sheet of paper under the door before heading back to his own room.

He entered his room again, turning off unnecessary lights as he went at the thought of being able to sleep soon. When he sat down at the desk he saw the progress bar was gone and he was looking at a folder full of guest personal information. He made a mental note to himself to delete his personal information when he was finished here, always feeling a little uncomfortable when he was able to successfully break into a computer to steal information.

A necessary consequence, he supposed, to constantly showing how easy it was for someone to get information about you. This mild paranoia had simply driven him to learn how to delete or hide information that he didn't want anyone to see, having become quite skilled at it with practice. He pushed these thoughts aside and found Eames's file, pulling it up and saving a copy to his computer before breaking the connection with the hotel computers. There was a chance of getting caught the moment you connected to their system but there was no point in leaving the connection intact longer than necessary.

He looked over the file, reading through the details. Date of birth: September 15, 1977. So Arthur had been right and his mark was only a few years older than him, twenty seven this year while Arthur would be turning twenty four. All of the helpful information was saved from the man's reservation; mailing address in England, phone number - even though that was probably changed by now - and credit card number.

That was all the information Arthur needed for his stepping stone. With that he would be able to trace back through Eames's payments far enough to get new information to work with, even if Eames recently got a new credit card. If Eames had rented or bought a car, Arthur would have his driver's license. If Eames had bought a plane ticket Arthur would be able to get his passport information. Feeling satisfied, Arthur wiped the history of his computer and powered down, slipping it away in his safe.

Finally he was able to turn off the rest of the lights and crawl under the soft duvet, lazily nestling against the mountain of pillows. He let out a relaxed sigh, only then realizing how utterly exhausted he really was. In the quiet darkness he strained to hear anything happening in the next room but it was silent. The hotel may have been sound-proofed well, but Arthur hoped that it was quiet because Eames was asleep.