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Cobb sits down at the airport bar on the stool next to Arthur's.
Arthur turns his head away by a fraction and pretends not to recognize him, but Cobb rests a hand on Arthur's forearm. Arthur dislodges it with the angle of his elbow as he brings his glass to his lips.
"How nice to see you again," Arthur claims, his head still turned away. "Are you traveling for business or pleasure?"
"Business," Cobb replies, which means he wasn't followed, so far as he knows.
Even so, it's still a bad sign that he's here. He's supposed to be on his way over the Atlantic by now. Arthur even booked him one of his favorite airlines with extra leg room.
"How's your league these days?" Arthur asks while finally turning towards Cobb, to take in the lack of amusement cutting across his face at the phrase.
"Any injuries?" Arthur pleads in a pleasant tone, tightening a hand on his glass.
Cobb gives in with a weary, "No, my boys are fine."
Through fantasy football names and stats, Cobb signals that no, his passport wasn't flagged. No, he didn't spot the mark or any of his men. All clear. No immediate danger. Now: stay in place. Soon: go ahead. Later: follow me.
Cobb has the nerve to use the signal for "Proceed according to plan" when he's the one who's deviating from it. In the short term, anyway.
~
At least they board the plane in separate groups. No last-minute seat swapping so they're next to each other.
Cobb picked first class, likely assuming Arthur had as well.
Arthur didn't have to pick coach, but as a matter of principle, he refused to end a job with less money than he had at the start.
Arthur pre-spent the bulk of his cut paying off the mark's men. No one vetoed it when he offered to, not even Eames just for the sake of disagreeing with him.
It was worth the risk. He'd already profiled every man. The mark's antics encouraged more turnover than loyalty. The longest tenure was seven months. Not a one of them would take the bribe but raise the alarm.
There's the off chance he was wrong about that and that's why Cobb's tailing him, but then Cobb would've said as much when they were trading players.
~
Because Cobb went carry-on only and Arthur lost time at baggage claim, Cobb out-maneuvers him, before he can secure them separate cabs.
"Are you ready to—"
"Little pitchers," Arthur rumbles with a tilt of his head towards the driver.
Cobb leans forward and asks for her to turn up the talk radio. She obliges.
"Satisfied?" Cobb asks under the sound cover.
Arthur's out of excuses, but that's never stopped him before. He shakes his head and takes out his phone. "It can wait 'til we're secure."
~
Too soon after they pass through the front door of the safe house, Cobb starts in with, "Can we finally talk, or do I have to sweep the room for bugs first?"
"The line for that is, 'Is it stuffy in here to you?'"
"We're done with the code word bullshit."
Unrepentant, Arthur retorts, "I seem to remember who invented the bulk of it."
"So sue me. It was the early days, and I was going through a Fleming phase."
Arthur makes for the stairs, but Cobb blocks his way. "Oh, no you don't."
"I get it, we'll talk. But I can't unpack first?"
"We talk first. If I let you out of my sight, you're gonna sneak out the back door."
Arthur releases the handle of his luggage and leans against the wall facing the stairs.
Cobb keeps the stairs at his back, his hand on the banister.
"We need to be straight with each other: are you done with me, is that it?" Cobb asks.
"Of course not."
"Really? Because I know why you went red paying off Canton's security team."
"I'm not in the red," Arthur grumbles, sullen. "I broke even."
"Same difference. You don't break even on jobs."
"You have," Arthur snipes. "Plenty of times."
"But never you. I know you. And I don't break even on jobs for scumbags, I break even for single parents with sob stories, out of pity."
"I didn't break even out of pity."
"No, you did it so the two of us wouldn't have to wait in a van together, timing out security shift changes. It would've been us, because Eames would've been embedded, and you don't let Ariadne do field work."
"It's too dangerous for her," Arthur pounces, grateful for the opening. "She's too green. She shouldn't even—"
Cobb raises a hand. "One, she can handle it. And two, don't change the subject. You broke even to shorten the job, so you could get away from me as fast as possible."
"Everyone loves a shorter job. Point men shorten jobs. That's normal."
"You aren't acting normal," Cobb says. "You're booking us flights to separate countries, job after job."
"It's normal to split up after a job."
"Not so far away, not for the both of us. What is it you're trying to tell me? You're sick of me? You think I should've stayed retired? Just say it, in plain English."
"I... I know why I've been coughing in dreams."
"I said don't change the subject."
"This is the subject. This is what you're asking. The team told me what it is. Ariadne looked it up, but I didn't believe her, so I asked Yusuf, and he confirmed it. When we tested it out with Eames, he talked like he'd already seen it before."
Cobb takes this in with a scratch of his chin. "How long have I been the last to know?"
"Since before I showed it to you."
"Well, what is it? Are you dying or something?"
Arthur raises his palms in a wide shrug. "Oh, aren't we all?"
Cobb looks stricken, so Arthur amends, "No, I'm not. I was kidding."
"I'm not laughing, Arthur."
"I'm not dying. It's curable, technically. Conditionally."
"You cure it by staying away from me?"
"No."
"What's the cure?"
"I'm getting to that. Just let me... Before I knew what it was, I asked Ariadne to redesign her levels to leave more space between you and me, because every time we crossed paths, I started coughing up petals."
"I thought it was paper."
Arthur takes a deep breath, then spews at a clip, "No, it's white petals. You didn't get a good look at it in the fountain, and I never corrected you, because then you could've looked it up online like Ariadne did.
"She found a website where people were talking about natural dreams. They were dreaming about people that they loved who they didn't think loved them back, and they were dreaming about flowers coming out of their mouths.
"But I didn't believe her, that natural dreams have meanings. So I asked Yusuf. He said that when his den customers pay forgers to dream with them, if they request a specific person they know, that sometimes... But they can't even get close, because of the flowers. And that's the gist of it."
Cobb asks just as quickly, "And the cure?"
"The cure is... if I'm wrong."
"So when I tell you I love you, too... that you've been there for me when I needed you most, even when it wasn't fair to ask you to be... and that I've been so afraid of losing you that I broke protocol and followed you here... when I tell you all that, that'll cure it, and we can get close to each other again in dreams? We can be together, out of them?"
Arthur's voice is thick when he answers, "Pretty much."
Cobb steps towards him, smiling gently. "So I guess I'd better get around to telling you that pretty soon, then."
Arthur croaks, "No, you can be a fool about it, if you'd like, and keep putting it off because you're scared of what'll happen if you tell me."
Cobb places his arms around Arthur. "No, that sounds too hard. Too lonely. It'd give me too much time to imagine the worst. I'd rather get it over with."
With Cobb's lips holding confidently against Arthur's, Cobb signals more than Arthur ever dared to let himself believe could be possible.
"Have you said it yet?" Arthur asks when they part, breathless from the rush.
"I just did."
"I'm hard of hearing," Arthur insists. "You might have to say it a few times."
Cobb leans in again. "Lucky you, I don't mind repeating myself."
They share another kiss.
"Heard you that time," Arthur reports.
Cobb draws back. "You know, my ears aren't perfect, either. Would you mind speaking up more often?"
"I can work on that."
"Great. And maybe someday, we'll work our way up to Plain English 101."