mtxref_fic: (Inception totem)
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Author's Note: Written for [livejournal.com profile] comment_fic's Inception, Arthur/Eames, waistcoat of style (Mild slash)


The morning ritual of getting dressed, watching Arthur slip into the tailored waistcoat of the day, shifting it to fit his torso properly, then buttoning it with the usual precision.

"So what got you wearin' waistcoats?" Eames asked, sitting on the bed, slipping on his boots. "Grew up among folk with a fascination for all things Victorian?"

"Not exactly: I didn't do my homework with a fountain pen and iron-based ink," Arthur replied, adjusting his waistcoat to hide the ends of his braces. "My father preferred a business casual look, but my mother had married into his family: we'll say her fashion tastes rarely aspired to anything better than designer jogging suits when she was at home. I took up this look as an act of rebellion."

"You? Rebellious?" Eames said, trying not to snerk. "Your family must've been a pretty tatty lot if dressing like a gaslight player was an act of rebellion."

Arthur eyed him side-wise patiently. "Let's say it'd make your eye-catching shirts seem easy on the retinas."

Eames smirked, hands on knees. "I'll take that as a compliment, given the comparison."
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