Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Cobb would like to establish one thing first:

Having an omega as your point man can be a fucking blessing. When you get one like Arthur. One that makes you regret overlooking or underestimating him, giving you a run for your money. Rare as omegas are (male ones not even half a percent), it’s a lucky chance of having one in your vicinity, even less having one like this in your area of expertise.

So, Cobb is pretty damn happy to have Arthur.

It’s a blessing - it can be a fucking nightmare as well, though.

"Arthur." Cobb hopes his voice sounds as soothing and steady as he intends it to sound, but by the lack of reaction he guesses it fell on deaf ears.
Rude.
It is as if he isn't even in the room (and Cobb likes to think he knows to demand attention normally), standing between him and the forger, both arms stretched out towards his point man, palms up, as if to placate a rabid dog. Not that far from the truth, Cobb guesses.

Arthur's nostrils flair, gaze trained on a point over Cobb's shoulder and the extractor knows exactly what he's looking at. Eyes dark and full of constricting emotions. Cobb really rather not be in the room with an Arthur with that kind of expression. To be honest, Cobb wouldn't want to be in the same city. Or country.

He hears the quiet shifting of someone adjusting his clothes behind him and a low, "Bloody hell…". Muttered syllables being almost completely swallowed, deafening in the tense silence nevertheless. Arthur's body seizes to it as if his name has been whispered into his ear. He takes another step, which has both Cobb and Eames jerk.

Cobb forward to keep his point man from continuing his advance, Eames backward to scramble towards the door he had just come in through no five minutes ago. It would be funny, how Arthur manages to give the alpha a run for his money by just twitching. Then again, lesser men would run screaming from Arthur.

"Wait-," Cobb calls over his shoulder to keep the forger from turning on his heels and run - Not necessarily because he doesn't want Eames to leave. He just isn't sure whether Arthur would let him.
Eames, bless him, does stop backing away, his grey eyes trained on Arthur. His left cheek is turning red, and is his eye bleeding in as well? Fuck.

Cobb doesn't have time to analyze the damage now, turning back to Arthur and positioning himself more into his line of vision. He slowly steps closer until he can put a hand onto his point man's upper arm.

For the first time since Eames walked in do Arthur's eyes flicker away from the forger and down to where Cobb's fingers curl into his button down shirt sleeve.

"Arthur. Hey. Look at me. You will let him leave, okay?" He pours every ounce of calm authority he possesses into his voice.

The tense silence is only broken by Arthur, harshly breathing through his nose, and Eames swallowing audible.
Cobb hears Eames' shoes squeaking as he turns slowly, and then stomps out of the door. Arthur's eyes widen and narrow dangerously, a throaty, dangerous sound starting in his chest and Cobb can feel his body tense under his grip. He is glad he already has a hand on him.

When the younger tries get past Cobb, the beta can slide the hand down his arm, curl the fingers around the wrist and bend it behind Arthur's back in a secure grip, holding it there, his other hand coming to grip the omega’s neck. It’s a dirty trick, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
If Arthur really wanted to, he could have broken free (at the risk of a dislocated shoulder maybe). Instead he doesn’t struggle but throws a growl halfway over his shoulder at Cobb.

And that's it.
Fucking rude. Fucking omegas and their attitude.

"Hey!" Cobb snaps, voice growing in volume like a whip, and Arthur freezes.

They stare at each other for a long minute. Arthur frowns and then slowly goes lax in his grip, casting his eyes downwards. Cobb loosens the grip again, but keeps his fingers tight around the omega’s arm, fingers digging in.

The door opens and both their faces snap up.

"Flûte alors? What is going on, gens?" Mal wonders, cardboard with to-go cups in her hand and looking mildly perplexed at the state of their working place. Documents and files on the ground, chairs upside down and in the middle of it, Arthur and Cobb.

Cobb lets go of Arthur's arm and the omega, as if automatically, begins to walk towards the door until Cobb harrumphs soundly, "Where do you think you're going, Arthur?"

Arthur freezes just slightly, "I want some fresh air."

His voice is tight, shoulders set and he doesn't turn around to Cobb.

"Uh, uh. We have a perfectly fine functioning window. You can even open it. Get fresh air there. Mal, love, make sure he stays," he tells his wife, walking past her and snatching two of the cups from the cardboard, making sure to grab the one with ‘Eames’ on the side, "I've got damage control to do."

"Arthur, Mon chéri, what happened?" He hears her voice, as he exits the office and goes to find a pissed off alpha.

What a fucking start in the morning.

"What do you want?" Eames sneers, from where he is nursing two thumbs of scotch at the lobby of his hotel, shoulders slumped and looking into the mirror opposite of him at the bar. His split lip is swollen and red, but stopped bleeding. There is an ugly bruise forming where his head had collided with the table and his left eye is indeed bleeding into the white. Shit.

Cobb can feel the agitation radiating from the man's hunched back, but he still decides to sit on the stool next to him at the bar. The barkeeper gives him a wary look and then briefly watches for any sign of discomfort on Eames, before turning away again. Putting the cup on the counter, pushing it towards Eames like a peace offering, Cobb doesn’t let it get to him that he apparently looks like he might give an alpha trouble in public.

He is a perfectly fine gentleman, thank you.

"Fuck off." is the growled mutter he receives and Cobb sighs, his hackles rising on instinct. He looks heavenward and ignores the sharp eyes from some folks left to him.

Thanks, Eames. Fucking alphas and their fucking sympathy-magnet abilities.

He decides to take a sip of his coffee. He suspects if Eames really wanted him gone, the guy would know how to make him. Or make the staff make him. Or any random person immediately sympathizing with the alpha. So, he wants Cobb to grovel. Maybe beg. Or whatever else had made him hesitate. Maybe he is curious about Arthur. Eames has always been the curious type.

"I apologize on his behalf. If it's any consolation - it's the first time I saw him react like this."

Eames shoots him a dirty look.

"You could see it as a compliment."

"Fuck off, Cobb." Eames says with passion and downs his drink, before pressing the heel of his hand against his non-damaged eye, sighing, voice shaking. Cobb watches him a few seconds. He never knows what’s real with Eames, what’s pretending. The man is a fucking good actor. But then again, all alphas are.

"Mal bought you your favorite tea." He nods towards the cup.

"I don't give a rat's arse about tea right now, Cobb," the alpha retorts dryly, but still pulls the drink closer, opening the lid to smell at the steaming liquid.
Cobb carefully keeps a blank face. Could he be any more English?

"We can work around this," Cobb says into the silence after he lets Eames take two sips. The man huffs, humorless smile tugging briefly on his lips. He doesn't look up from his tea.

"We really can't."

"We can."

"We don't want to, though."

"We might."

"We really don't, Cobb."

Eames patience is running thin, Cobb knows, as he glares over his drink at him.

"Eames, we need the best forger for this." He tries with flattery. It works sometimes.

"Then get rid of your over-enthusiastic point man."

Cobb straightens up slightly, frowning, "We can find a different solution. You could work from different places-"

"Not bloody likely," Eames interrupts and turns his attention back to his tea.

"Look, you caught him off guard-"

"Look at me and tell me who was caught off guard," Eames replies with a lifted brow. Cobb doesn't have to look at the missing buttons on Eames ugly shirt or the red lines of fingernails having dragged over his neck and collarbone. Cobb sighs and they drink in silence, the barkeeper giving Cobb the stink eye, but after he puts a twenty into the tip glass, they are left alone again.

"Look," Cobb downs the last of his coffee and gets up from the stool. He can’t believe it’s just barely after eight in the fucking morning, "I'll let you think about it, okay? We can work something out here. Just let me ring you up tomorrow, say, eight-", Eames' eyes narrow, "ten, and we'll talk about this after a night of sleep. I'll talk to Arthur. It’ll be fine."

It isn’t fine. When Cobb tries calling Eames the next day, his phone informs him that the number he is trying to reach isn’t in use.
"Fuck," He groans, rubbing both hands down his face. There will need to be more groveling. On his costs.

"He quit."

Cobb tries not to sound too tight when he comes into their office where Mal and Arthur are sitting, heads together, musing over files. While Mal gives a small sound and purses her lips, disappointed, Arthur carefully keeps his eyes on his notes.

"I could track him down," he offers too nonchalantly.

Cobb doesn't even have the energy to be charmed over Mal's bell like laugh of delight at that statement.

"And then what? Force him to work with us?" Cobb snaps at Arthur, looking down angrily at his dumb, brilliant point man. Twenty-three year old Arthur, freshly plucked from Miles’ classes. Dumb, brilliant Arthur who just managed to scare off the world’s best forger and thief. Arthur stares at him, jaw set, but he keeps silent, obviously knowing he fucked up. Good.

"Chéri, don't be like this. You know we can't help our nature." Mal quips in, but Cobb ignores her and Arthur’s pinched expression at that comment.

In the end Cobb does let Arthur track Eames down, but only because they all know the omega is quicker than Cobb and before Eames fucks off the country, or worse, the continent, Cobb rather has Arthur be smug about showing off.

Cobb has to negotiate over an hour and butter the alpha up after cornering him in a casino (could he be more of a cliché?) and it ends with Cobb giving Eames half of his share for the job on top of Eames’ own horrendous fees, but Cobb swallows it with a bitter smile. He rather sacrifices it than risk never being able to work with Eames again.

As easy going and laid back as the alpha normally is – once you’re on his bad side, your ass is stuck to it with superglue. That man can hold a fucking grudge like no one else. And where Eames lets a bad word on you fall to the ground, it sprouts and festers and grows like weed and you can be glad to be getting any jobs at all anymore by the end of the week.

Fucking alphas and their ability to get everyone to like them.

People respect Eames and his word, why ever so (that guy is a damn conman for fucks sake!). Everyone knows Eames in dream share, because he was one of the firsts, has been there the longest and he is the best forger. Damn Eames.

Cobb has met a few alphas in his life – well, seeing they take up only about 18 percent of the whole population, it isn’t unlikely not to have too many of them in your area. But Eames is damn dangerous, Cobb learned early on. He doesn’t particularly like working with alphas in general, but Eames? He is acrook. Sadly, he is a damn fucking brilliant crook.

When Cobb met Eames for the first time, he had felt… fine about him. Like he could trust his calm and easy-going smile. Like Eames was not the annoying type of boisterous alpha that demanded attention and tried to seize the leadership of whatever group he was with, swooning everyone with their overbearing confidence. No, Eames was good natured and laid back, not needing to establish his dominance like a cocksure top dog. Cobb likes to think he has a good knowledge of human nature.

That, clearly, had been a mistake on his side.

Eames had taken off with his PASIV, wallet and passport half a day later, leaving Cobb stranded in Cologne, in a Starbucks, of all places. Fucking bastard. He can still hear Mal laugh at him over the phone. Rude, as well. But she, at least, is pretty, so Cobb forgives her.

Eames is fucking wicked. He appears all grins and English charm, warm like honey tea and laid back like a lazy tom rolling on sun warmed concrete. Calm and comfortable to be around. Needless to say Cobb has since then adjusted his opinion on the alpha. And he sure as hell does not make the mistake of underestimating Eames’ fraudulent tendencies anymore.

After Eames had given him a newer PASIV model back with a smirk and a shrug two months later asking Mal and Cobb on a job, Cobb’s wrath has been soothed (Cobb doesn’t even want to know where he got that PASIV from or what happened to his old one). Not his caution, though. But after telling Eames he doesn’t trust him anymore, Eames had just smirked and said: ‘that’s better’. Mal likes him a lot. Cobb doesn’t.

But there is a begrudging respect for the excellent work he does. And he is at least fifty percent sure Eames wouldn’t sell him out again.

Working with Eames, Cobb has learned quickly, may be expensive but it is damn efficient. Cobb doesn't mind that the alpha strolls in late most the time, doesn't keep to protocol and goes off on his own, takes matters into his own hand and rarely listens if he thinks his own ideas better. They usually are, much to anyone’s dismay.

Cobb knows Eames must have a few friends in high position that he works regularly with, but beyond that there isn't much known about the conman. At least not common knowledge. Where he came from (military?) Where he goes to (London, Mombasa, North Carolina, Cologne?). If he has family (siblings, lovers, a dog?). If Eames is even his name (probably not).

It isn't important anyway. All Cobb cares about is the fact that Eames is the best at what he does and Cobb only works with the best, even if the best turns out to be a crooked asshole who can’t buy fitting pants if his life depended on it.

That's what he has Arthur for – not because he knows how to dress himself to contradict Eames - but because the omega is the best as well and Cobb knows he can trust him with his life. Arthur is two hundred percent loyal, which he needs when he has Eames on the team. With him and Eames, they will be balanced.

Or so he thought.

Cobb has forgotten the small, but important fact that it might, might, actually, be a problem to introduce an alpha and an omega to each other without a test on neutral ground first. But really, what are the fucking odds? Arthur has worked with alphas before. He is usually more of a stoic and aggressive douchebag about it (despite his own words of not being affected at all), but he can work with them. Cobb trusts his words normally, because, first and foremost, they are professionals. And Eames, Cobb knows, has worked with Tageldin and Zimmermann - both omegas.

How could he had known this would turn out to be a problem?

Chapter Text

Working like this is… Intense, to say it nicely.

Both Arthur and Eames have agreed, even if reluctant, to take scent blockers on top of suppressants (Arthur has to add them, Eames luckily was already on meds) for the time being so they can stand each other without freaking out. The drugs make them a little sluggish in the evenings, but it works. At least it doesn’t contradict with the Somnacin.

While Mal seems to be overly entertained (whenever is she not about ‘American and English gens’), Cobb tries to negotiates between a slightly squirmy Eames and his point man, who is being generally terrifying and not at all in the professional way Cobb admires so much about Arthur.

Arthur still does his work better than anyone, with his neat files and pristine notes, making Mal’s life so much easier, but damn him, could he stop being so intense and make everyone uncomfortable? It is slightly disconcerting to work with an omega who is on some kind of hindbrain-induced caveman hunt, while everyone around him acts as if they aren’t suffering second hand embarrassment.

It… could be worse, Cobb tells himself.

It could be worse, he tells himself when Arthur gets up from the desk to walk around the office whenever Eames is talking to Zeyad or Mal for too long. Only so he can prowl past Eames again and again without any fucking reason (and no, going to the coffeepot every five minutes or throwing one (!) piece of paper at a time into the bin at the other fucking end of the office is not a reason!) and throw detached death glares over the alpha’s shoulder at the other two. It doesn’t help that the amount of coffee Arthur consumes to uphold his charade makes him even more of a bitch.

It could be worse, Cobb tells himself when Arthur gives him the evil eye whenever he and Eames talk in private for more than two minutes. Cobb makes damn sure to stare Arthur down until the omega begrudgingly turns back to his own work.

It could be worse, Cobb tells himself when Eames tries to explain his approach to their mark and who he intends to forge for the job, only to trail off because he and Arthur's eyes meet and they just stare at each other until Mal laughs or Cobb harrumphs pointedly.

It could be worse, Cobb tells himself when Zeyad brings them takeout one night and offers Eames a spring roll from his carton and Arthur just straight up snarls silently at him from where he is eating his tofu Kung Pao (snarls-! The whole package with baring his teeth and curling his nose! What the fuck, Arthur?!), before firmly seating himself between the two and staring pointedly at Eames, until the man vaguely offers his Styrofoam container to the point man. The appeased look on the omega’s face has Cobb give him a –are you for real right now- look that makes Arthur fall back into his default scowl.
(Again, only Mal finds this ridiculous behavior worth cooing over. She is being far too lackadaisical about this, it only encourages Arthur!)

It could be worse, Cobb tells himself when Arthur, after that, makes sure to always sit next to Eames like they’re in preschool and Arthur decided they are best friends forever now. Tipping his chair back as if he really thinks this is cool and not suicidal, splaying his legs open, gnawing on pencils or chopsticks or whatever else he gets his hands on in Eames’ line of vision. Frowning at the generality of life until Eames offers him whatever they are eating for breakfast, lunch, dinner. It seems to pacify Arthur’s unfathomable wrath.

It could be worse, Cobb tells himself when Mal brushes a hand over Eames shoulder in passing one night, telling him how beautiful his 'petite femme’ is (Eames blonde beta forge really is something, even Cobb has to admit). How Arthur glowers at Mal’s back, as if she just insulted queen and country, before determinedly walking over to grab Eames’ shoulder, fingers digging in, face cold but eyes ablaze. Eames looks mildly alarmed as if fearing a dislocated shoulder following. But when nothing happens, he allows the gesture until Arthur starts rubbing his palm over his upper arm. Eames gently shrugs the touch off after a few seconds then, looking uncomfortable.

Cobb has long given up on trying to make sense of what goes on in alpha’s or omega’s heads when they interact, but this reaches new levels of incomprehensibility for him.

It could be worse, Cobb convinces himself to believe.

It gets worse.

They use Arthur as a subject exactly once. Cobb should have known it to be a bad idea.

They’re standing in the mall Cobb is currently creating for the mark’s first level, as he explains where he plans on taking the team. Mostly he talks to Mal, who is the one to extract the information in the end. There are people milling about, as it is supposed to be in a mall.
Only after Eames grumbles in protest for the third time, does Cobb look towards him. The alpha, looking annoyed, is currently trying to move between the people starting to crowd him in an unremarkable way, which steadily increases in force though. A hand on his shoulder, people stepping in front of him, a kid grabbing his hand to tug him back- more hands grabbing into the back of his jacket, his collar going tight and choking the alpha who tries to fights against it, increasingly forceful as well, looking more and more exasperated.

“Arthur,” Cobb snaps at the point man, who is watching from where his projections are trying to push and pull the alpha towards him. Arthur looks unapologetic and calculating, watching Eames with dark eyes as if he is only waiting for his subconscious to bring the man on a silver plate. Jesus fucking Christ, are they actually in the goddamn loony bin?

Cobb resolutely steps towards Eames, who has turned to stare at Arthur, and grabs after the forger’s wrist. He barely feels the barrel of the gun against his temple before he wakes up.

Cobb blinks up the ceiling of their office and has the time to sit up and throw a disbelieving look at the still sleeping Arthur.

Did he just..? Before he can do much more than start to feel offended, Mal and Zeyad wake up as well, their chemist rubbing his chest mildly disturbed, while Mal just stares at the ceiling a few seconds.
She tips her head towards him.
Their eyes meet and the corners of hers crinkle in mirth, before taking the needle out and clicking her tongue.

“Naughty…” she chuckles with a look to the still sleeping Arthur.

“What just happened, did he just-,“ Cobb starts indignantly, but before he can finish, Eames is shooting up into a sitting position, ripping the IV needle out. He gets to his feet.

“What-,“ Cobb tries again, but the forger is already storming out of the room without a look back. Cobb’s eyes snap back to the point man, whose face is turned sideways as he stares after Eames, jaw tight. He makes a move as if to get up and follow him.

“Hey!” Cobb snarls annoyed and Arthur winces, before throwing him a glare, but staying where he is, demure expression dimming the hunger in his face. “Jesus Christ, Arthur…” Cobb mutters under his breath and rubs a hand over his face.

It’s a tense few days after that. Cobb is thorn between wanting to chew Arthur out about his subconscious killing every team member to have private time for a wet dream and wanting to forget the whole thing ever happened. They make sure to never use Arthur as a subject again when Eames goes with under. Eames doesn’t look all that happy to have Arthur watch them in their sleep, but it’s probably better than getting molested by his projections.

It could be worse, he tries to tell himself.

It gets worse. Cobb is starting to despair just a little.

It's a late autumn evening, sun long gone, air going crisp and windows fogging from the inside. Cozy weather to cuddle on the couch with your wife.
After leaving said wife (who isn’t in the mood to cuddle) to smoke the rest of her horrendous cigarette (Cobb prides himself on having managed five minutes before giving her his coat and leaving to go inside) he heads to the office where he left his hat and phone, only to step into a scene that makes him want to bash his fist against something in frustration. Maybe someone’s face. They had been doing fine.

Instead he forces himself to casually step into the room, after knocking against the door frame to announce his presence. Forces himself to stay calm and not be the spark to make everything explode now.

Hands in his pockets, he wanders over to where Arthur is standing close enough to Eames to have the tips of their shoes touching, leaning into his personal space. They're staring at each other, the alpha with his hands in his pockets, against the wall. As if wanting to uphold the illusion that he is leaning there on his own free will and not because he is being crowded against it by an overbearing omega.

It would look ridiculous how they stand there, Eames slouching against the wall in a relaxed subterfuge, while Arthur is standing there as if ready to rip the man’s throat out. Strung tight, ready to snap the moment one of them does so much as breath wrong.

"Anyone seen my hat?" Cobb inquires as nonchalantly and calmly as he can, the thick tension in the air making him breathe through his nose (Jesus, even with his normal nose he would very much like to open a window just now). Neither of them look at him as he walks past and towards the desk.

He grabs after Arthur's arm casually in passing and tugs him back an inch. Arthur doesn't resist (thank God for small mercies), but his eyes stay trained on Eames, who is staring back with an unreadable expression on his face.

"Yeah," Eames answers to something Cobb doesn’t know, doubt it is to his question. The alpha’s voice is rough, his eyes narrow. Arthur twitches where Cobb can feel it, holding him by the arm, while Eames walks past them and leaves the office.

Cobb doesn't let go until Arthur pointedly gives him a look.

"Arthur," Cobb warns, but the omega just curls his nose and sniffs deprecatingly.

"Don't you understand a rejection when you receive one?"

Cobb knows it's a low blow. He does, but goddamn, they need to pull through this. And Arthur and Eames both need to fucking focus. Arthur stiffens, face going hard, shutting off. He grabs after his bag and storms past Cobb. The beta closes his eyes briefly and takes a deep breath through his nose. Well fuck.

They manage, more or less. Working around the big, fat elephant in the room. Cobb is pretty sure Zeyad will never work with any of them ever again. He can’t fault him. It’s a damn shame though, because Zeyad is one of the best chemists on the market. But what can Cobb do about it? There only so much dumb wildlife mating dance behavior between alphas and omegas you can handle as a sane person.

Easiest thing would be to kick either Arthur or Eames from Cobb’s alarmingly short list of work acquaintances. He can't kick Arthur from his team. He is Cobb’s friend. And what’s more - Arthur is the fucking best point man one could ask for.

Arthur is cunning like a fox in a hen house and sees every fucking detail. His own cool, cutting demeanor is made for this work. His diligence, his meticulous tendencies, and his urge to be the best at what he does. It makes him perfect for their line of work. He is competent. He is relentless. Merciless. He gets the job done. He double-checks everything. Always expects a double cross. A hidden agenda. He is the epitome of distrust and his judgmental nature is like a whip tearing you bloody before you even feel the blow. He is sharp like cut diamonds, for fucks sake.

People always express a wary respect towards the detached man when they meet up. Until they get to know him on a job and they don’t live up to his standards. Then they get a taste of how terrifying it is to work with an omega like Arthur when you don’t do your fucking homework. Cobb never has to worry about his team’s performance with Arthur’s looming wrath in their neck. He keeps them in line just fine.

And beside all that there is the fact that he is Cobb's best friend. And Mal adores him. And Arthur is loyal with a tendency to hero-worship and Cobb wouldn’t risk that loyalty (or the hero-role). So getting rid of him is not an option. But Eames is too good of a thief to not work again with in dream heists either. Can you see the dilemma here?

After the job, they stay under radar and not contact each other. It's protocol, for safety measures. Mal is the one in charge of the money transfer, even though she is slowly easing Arthur into that role as well.

The three are supposed to have no contact for 48 hours before meeting up at a beforehand selected place only them know. Cobb hates leaving Mal alone (or Arthur), but he guesses he could use the days to reel back in, use his fake credit card more than ethically justifiable and catch up on the rest of the world, which always slips out of his fingers like smoke during jobs. (If he is being honest to himself, he is just miserable without Mal).

When they meet up again, Arthur is a tight curled bundle of tension and the first thing he does is snapping at Cobb to get out of the way, before shouldering past him into the restaurant.

He doesn't talk besides ordering a glass of water and snapping the card shut again, giving the waiter a glare when he asks, "möchten Sie nichts zu Essen bestellen?". (The waiter has enough self-preservation not to ask a second time.)

"Arthur," Cobb tries after letting him steam off a little, alternating between glaring at his water or the waiter, while Mal and he eat.
Arthur doesn't look up, jaw grinding.

"Did you-" because he has a horrible suspicion about Arthur's mood but a hand squeezing his knee stops him from continuing. Mal pointedly does not look at him as she sips on her wine glass but Cobb sees her down turned mouth anyway.

And he sees the embarrassment coloring the tips of Arthur's ears red. The shame flickering over his expression. Cobb manages to stifle his sigh by stuffing bread into his mouth. Fuck. There goes his chance of working with the forger again anytime soon.

Chapter Text

Next time Cobb tries to reach Eames, it takes him almost a week to even get a phone number. His suspicions get confirmed when Eames immediately disconnects once Cobb so much as opens his mouth for a ‘hello-’.
Fucking hell.

Eames doesn't want to work with them anymore. No matter what Cobb says, as long as Arthur is on the job (and he always is, he is Cobb’s point man), Eames will decline. It's a fucking disaster. And just flat out rude, if you ask him.

"Eames, really-"

"How many times do I have to change numbers until you finally give up?"

"I'm persistent Mr. Eames."

"That you are Mr. Cobb. The answer is still no. You know my conditions."

"It will go smoothly. You make it seem like the last job blew up because of this. You don't want to limit yourself like this, if both of you take meds-"

"Which isn't limiting myself at all."

"Mal and I are pulling the most lucrative jobs, people fall over their feet at a chance to work with us, work with Arthur-"

“Did you actually ask your point man if he wants to work with me anymore?”

Cobb opens his mouth to snort, because duh, Arthur had fucking jumped him the first time- The line goes dead.

Fucking. Rude.

It continues like that for about half a year before Cobb gives up.

He doesn’t see anything of Eames for almost three years. He hears of him, of course, dream share is a group of old quibbling grandmothers.

Cobb manages to get on the same team as Eames for a job again in spring. Without Arthur, that is. Cobb supposes he should feel bad about not telling the point man. He will use the opportunity to butter Eames up. It’s the best for all of them. Arthur doesn’t need to know.

The team already has a point man. He goes alone, without Mal, because the job is in Kenya and the flight and weather wouldn't become his pregnant wife. It feels a little lonely without them. But he uses the time well, working like grain on Eames’ resolution.

He should have taken a shower and maybe a change clothes before letting Arthur pick him up from the airport afterwards. But damn it, he had been on a plane for 14 hours straight, Arthur can deal. Cobb just wants to see his wife.

Arthur goes awfully still once Cobb is in range (damn omegas and their sensitive noses) and he can see the smile freezing and then dropping even from the distance.

Oh Jesus, here we go…

Cobb resolutely ignores the way the omega murders him with his eyes all the way while Cobb walks towards him until they stand in front of each other.
And then Arthur resolutely ignores his 'Hey, Arthur', giving him the stoic -you betrayed me- scene as if Cobb had framed him for a federal crime or something. Omegas are so fucking dramatic. Is it his fault that Arthur smells Eames on him like a bitch in heat?

He pointedly keeps himself occupied with his phone, writing Mal, not looking at the white knuckled grip on the steering wheel, where Arthur is driving in his usual suicidal way. Cobb isn’t in the mood for Arthur’s shit after a 14 hour flight. It’s enough that the tension radiating from him is rising Cobb’s hackles instinctively.

“Thanks for the ride. Look-” He tells the point man, once they stop in the driveway, bur he barely gets his feet out of the car, before Arthur goes into reverse, leans over to shut the door and drives off without so much as a word.

“Jesus…” Cobb mutters darkly and shakes his head. He turns and takes off to greet his glowing, pregnant wife waiting by the door. At least she knows how to welcome him home.

They receive a best wishes card and flowers from ‘–E’ when Phillipa is born and Cobb doesn’t have to wonder long which ‘E’ it could be, with Arthur staring at the card, probably thinking himself subtle. Mal generously acts as if accidentally leaving the card on the table for Arthur to take. Cobb doesn’t even want to know what he is going to do with it. Probably put it down his pants.

With Mal out of the picture with beautiful Phillipa there and freshly hatched James, Cobb is short on an extractor and outsources more than he likes. But what to do. Dream share is still a small pool with little fishes. So little fishes, that it isn’t long before Zimmermann hires Cobb, Arthur and Eames for a lucrative heist.

He finds Eames in the lobby of his hotel and slides next to him into the booth. If the alpha is surprised, he hides it well, only continuing to nip on his drink.

“So…,” Cobb starts and leaves it at that, waiting for Eames to acknowledge the pink elephant. He disappoints Cobb, nursing his drink and playing with an undoubtedly faked poker chip.

“Zimmermann hired us all,” Cobb continues, not in the mood to start a battle in silence with the forger, who would be a stubborn oaf about it anyway.

Eames still doesn’t say anything, but he leans back in his booth then, looking up expectantly.

For god’s sake…

“You won’t have a problem with it?” Cobb inquires. It’s like pulling teeth sometimes with the guy.

“I won’t have one. You better ask your point man if he will have one.”

“Arthur, you know we need that job.”

Arthur stays stubbornly silent, as he unpacks his suitcase, not even looking up from where he is taking out his socks.

“Eames said it wouldn’t be a problem-,“ he swallows the rest of his sentence, when the omega’s head snaps up to throw him a murderous look. Jesus Christ, attitude, he thinks, swallowing the instinct to take a step back.

“I’m just saying, Zimmermann is a pretty big fish and if something happens again and she-“

“It won’t be a problem.” Arthur interrupts short-tempered, turning back to packing out his stuff.

“If we put you back on-“

“I said”, Arthur hisses and Cobb feels a little worried for his own well-being, “It won’t be a problem.” There is a warning note to his voice now and Cobb knows when to back off, so he holds up his hand and nods.

“Alright, alright.”

He trusts Arthur and when the omega says he can keep himself in check, then Cobb is going to believe him. And stay close to hold him back by the collar, if needed.

Eames comes in, late as always, and Cobb prays to all that is holy.

Zimmermann doesn’t do more than lift her telling brow of expectance, before going back to her notes. Eike, idly sketching on his board, formulas Cobb can’t even begin to understand, turns while still holding the red marker up. The room around them seems to get smaller. Arthur, sitting by the desk, is staring at Eames, face set in stone. The alpha freeze for a split second, their eyes meeting.

Please don’t. Cobb presses his lips together.

Eames breaks eye contact and casually walks over to Zimmermann to slouch into a chair by her table. He offers her what he has written down after tailing the mark before coming here, talking in his usual murmured accent and ignoring Arthur. One could almost be fooled by this display of nonchalance, if Cobb wouldn’t feel Arthur practically vibrating silently in his seat.

He sees Arthur shift, eyes switching between Zimmermann and Eames interacting with each other. Seeing Cobb was the one vowing for Arthur, he gets up from his 3D model part of the supermarket he wants to create and deliberately positions himself between Arthur and his line of vision towards Eames. Arthur gives him a look that could turn milk sour. Cobb stares back warningly.

It’s going to be an exhausting three weeks, Cobb can already tell.

After managing to ignore each other for two days, they suddenly start to interact one morning without any warning. Cobb is ready to jump in, fearing the worst – but all they do it throw a few quips against each other. Cobb watches them, eyes narrowed.

What?

At least Eike seems to have fun watching Arthur’s and Eames’ antics as the week proceeds. And antics they have. A lot. If his kids are going to be only half as confusing as these two, Cobb will be grey by the end of the year. Apparently being not too befuddled with scents and instincts and having a two-day refractory phase alphas and omegas do not only manage to have semi-normal conversations, they can actually work together. Which turns out to be a whole new sort of… thing.

Cobb still sits on the edge of his chair every damn second, in case he has to bodily throw himself at Arthur… or Eames, for that matter.

“You’re late.”

Arthur is staring at Eames, who has strolled in just now with a coffee holder in one hand and a brown paper bag in the other.

“I bought breakfast.” The alpha replies smoothly, offering Zimmermann first dips, which is clever, seeing she is the boss, but it has Arthur’s metaphorical hackles rise (damn omegas and their rivalry complex) and Cobb can see the train wreck happen already.

“We don’t have time for this, our briefing-,“ Arthur snaps, when Eames holds out the bag with bagels towards him. Eames just gives him a placating smile and interrupts him, “I thought about using a company outing as a scenery for the first level instead of the working place office like you proposed, darling.“

“-Oh, that could work,” Zimmermann nods from where she is nursing her coffee and Eike hums around his bagel. There is ticking muscle in Arthur’s jaw from where he is grinding his teeth, because there is little he hates more than his plans being thrown overboard without a power point presentation with little bullet points for chronologically listed reasons.

Arthur and Eames stare at each other, both suddenly going still, Eames’ cocksure grin turning into something else and Cobb quickly gets up from his chair when he notices Arthur’s fists clenching, leaning forward slightly.

“-Why do you think a company outing a good idea?” he asks a little louder (and quicker) than needed to unfurl the building tension.

They slowly, but surely start to verbally fight instead of just quip at each other. Small things at first, pointing out little logic flaws in their plans. They turn it into big squabbles over the following days that sometimes go on for hours and hours, as if they strive on it. Maybe they found their worthy verbal sparring partner in each other or something. Cobb wonders aloud at the end of week two if this is how it ends with compatible partners when they reject each other and try to get along anyway.

Mal just laughs and laughs on the other end of the phone, James’ gurgling laughs interrupting her and she tells him to let them get to know each. Whatever that means. Women are a mystery. And so are alphas and omegas, for that fact.

For all the nagging and not having one nice word for each other (sometimes downright insulting and riling each other up), they manage to wrap up the job flawlessly without a hitch. When they part with the promise of a huge sum to greet their accounts soon, Cobb swears he sees Eames staring briefly after Arthur, his lips twitching and when he and Arthur leave in one direction, Eames in the other, Cobb sees Arthur looking over his shoulder out of the corners of his eyes.

The damn bickering really was just that – bickering. Weird alpha-omega interactions. Metaphorical pigtails pulling.

Cobb doesn’t know, doesn’t want to know. Mal says she knows what’s going on between them, because she is a woman and women know such things, but Cobb is too proud to ask her to tell him, when they sit together on the couch that night, drinking wine and enjoying being back together. But he did call it, didn’t he? That they would balance each other out and work together splendidly? Eames creativity and spontaneity mixing with Arthur’s calculated calmness and providence.

He would like to pat himself on the back for this one. He knew they would be preeminent together, he said so himself. He has always had an exceptional knowledge of human nature after all.

Both Eames and Arthur are at their top when they work together. Cobb knows, because he worked a lot with both of them separately already. They may contradict each other every step of the way, but in that way they manage to make each other good, better, the best. Whether it is because they want to outdo each other, or themselves in order to impress each other, Cobb doesn’t care.

They tentatively start to take more jobs together, consciously seeking each other out for jobs. Cobb notices that their squabbles becoming friendlier, more familiar and Cobb is glad that with each one, he seems to need to be less on guard because of them.

Not every job goes perfect, not even with Arthur, Eames and him as a cumulative force. They have a pretty good quota, Cobb likes to think, but even for them, once in a while, a job goes south and they have to leg it, while someone like the angry shouting Swedish mafia chases them, letting bullets fly past their heads, as they sprint through Malmö’s harbor back alleys.

Which may be a very specific result of a failed job, because, well, the angry shouting Swedish mafia is fucking shooting at them right this moment.
Cobb didn’t even know Sweden had a fucking mafia being involved with goddamn fishery company secrets.

Arthur is ahead, PASIV in hand, running like a young god and Cobb knows he could outrun them in a lick of a minute, but he is holding himself back. At least until Eames from behind Cobb shouts “Each for themselves!” and dives into an alley to the left.

Fucking Bastard, Cobb curses, he had kind of hoped the Swedes would fire on Eames behind him first, and now Cobb’s back is the target. When he risks a look over his shoulder, a bullet whistled past his nose and he swears and looks back ahead – Arthur is gone as well. “Fucking Hell!” he shouts and promptly careens to the right. So much for fucking loyalty.

Cobb doesn’t hear from Arthur for 48 hours. Which is protocol, but Cobb still worries about his point man. Did he make it? Is he okay? Did these blonde goons get their hands on him? He knows, logically, that Arthur is old enough and more than capable enough to take care of himself (probably a lot better than most twats in dream share), but for Cobb he is still the barely twenty-three year old rookie Miles sent to them.

In the end, he never hears what happened after they split up. When Arthur turns up by the café they agreed as their meeting point in Copenhagen two days later, there is not a scratch on him.

“Everything went alright?” Cobb wants to know, sitting outside in the afternoon, Arthur nursing his cappuccino and Cobb nipping on his own drink, eyes idly wandering around. There’re lots of people around, which is good. The omega hums around the edge of the cup and nods, a smile tugging on his lips as he puts it back down, but he keeps staring at the foam. It is a little disconcerting to watch Arthur take up his spoon to just stir it around the foam, obviously engrossed in his own thoughts. It’s not like him to be anything but sharp and focused.

“Arthur,” Cobb wonders, narrowing his eyes slightly in concern. The omega doesn’t immediately look up.

“Arthur?” he repeats, a little more insistent.

“Hm? Yes?”

Now, this is just worrying.

“Are you okay?”

Arthur looks up then, mild surprise flashing over his face, blinking.

“Yes? Why shouldn’t I?” he inquires, putting the spoon down again and looking at him as if Cobb is the one acting strange.

“You’re all-,“ Cobb vaguely gestures around his own face, “All smiley and the like,” which, alright, might not be the most eloquent explanation, but cut him some slack, alright? He got shot at by tall, blonde Swedish people two days ago, which was unnecessarily stressful.

Arthur’s expression immediately gets replaced by a sort of scowl, before he schools his face into the usual stoic status quo.

“I’m not ‘smiley’-,“

“I didn’t say you have to stop-,“

“I didn’t stop anything, this is just my face”.

“That face was doing the smiley-thing”.

“I wasn’t smiling-!” Arthur snaps, brows drawing together and Cobb holds up his hands, knowing when the omega starts to get defensive in embarrassment.

“Do you know if Eames made it out okay?” Cobb changes the topic, before Arthur completely clamps down.
Arthur visibly freezes, before casually dropping his gaze to his cappuccino again, taking up the spoon once more to stir in his foam and draw little patterns with the chocolate powder on top.

“He’s fine.”

Cobb lifts a brow, “So, he contacted you?”

Arthur licks the foam off his spoon and puts it aside to take a sip of his drink.

“… He’s fine,” Arthur repeats, voice purposefully indifferent and Cobb decides not to ask. He is stressed enough as it is. As long as they all made it out and the PASIV is safe, Cobb doesn’t care.

And then Cobb is gone for fifty years, he and Mal building their own world and destroying their reality. And he his wife’s sanity.

Arthur is there, toeing along the edge. Like in the periphery of a dream, where you never look, because it’s blurry and unimportant. He wanders at the outline of Cobb’s focus. His eyes are on Mal, always on Mal these days. Meals appear at the dinner table. The kids are told to eat, they are put to bed, brought to kindergarten, read stories. Not by him and definitely not by Mal.

Arthur is there, when Mal throws plates at him in a fit. He is there to take the confused children off him, hearing Mal cry a room further. He is there to contact Miles and Marie. He is there when Mal grabs a kitchen knife and comes at them, slicing Cobb’s tie and part of his shirt off with a wild strike and almost shanking Arthur’s guts, before they manage to wrestle the knife out of her hand, their carpet stained pink with Arthur’s blood.

Cobb only knows Eames has to have been in the area afterwards because it’s him in the driver’s seat when Arthur gets out of a foreign car, Cobb watching them tiredly through the kitchen window. Cobb doesn’t have the energy to wonder about it and not the time to ask.

Mal kills herself.

Cobb doesn't know who helps him get away a few days later. He guesses it is one of Arthur's contacts, because Arthur isn’t there.

They meet up in Denmark again, Cobb feeling numb and reeling, as if still in vertigo. Not unlike he felt after waking up from a fifty years long dream, looking into the face of the woman he loves more than anything. He will never see her beautiful eyes again and how her lips curl and how she brushes her hair from her forehead –

Arthur, when they meet, is stone cold. Has it always been this silent and rigid in his company? Or is it because he thinks he killed her?

“Do you think I did it?” Cobb is too tired to pretend.

Arthur looks at him as if he is the dumbest person on earth and something about it is so relieving that Cobb wants to sob.

“No.”

Cobb might have hid his crumbling face behind his hands, in a manly way.

Arthur keeps by his side. Keeps him sane, keeps him close. Cobb always knew Arthur to be loyal. Loyal to him. Loyal to Mal. He can’t say where he would end up without Arthur at his side. The situation gnaws on his point man, though, Cobb can tell.

He doesn’t know if it is Mal’s death, their life on the run, all of it together, or something else, but Arthur is miserable. He looks aged, worn down, even though he holds himself even straighter than before. Cobb may not be as observant as an alpha or as sharp as an omega, but he knows people. A beta knows his people inside out. And he knows Arthur.

Face grey, dark circles under his eyes, spine rigid, frame thinner and shoulders tense with the weight of worries invisible to anyone but him. He is short tempered, too, clipped, aggressive, quick to anger, his patience as thin as a sheet of bread wrap and as pulled tight as wire.

Cobb is so grateful to have him. He wishes he had the energy to take care of him better in turn.

Little people want to work with a suspected murderer of his own wife. Not even in dream share. They don’t even see a glimpse of Eames in the following months. Cobb asks once about him when they could use a thief for a risky job (the only ones they still get) and the look of forced detachment immediately settling on Arthur’s face tells Cobb enough.

Cobb knows they have been working up to something before... Before Mal. That Eames doesn’t want to have anything to do with them anymore is hypocritical bullshit. Eames is a conman, he is a fucking criminal. Acting like this is fucking rich coming from someone like him.

While shit hit the fan with the Cobol job, it does offer them something far, far more valuable. Another chance for Cobb to get home to his children.

Cobb likes to think later that he is the one who brings Arthur and Eames back together in the end when he casually inquires about a thief and Arthur immediately knows where to find him.