FIC: Carve Your Name Into My Arm (Instead of Stressed I Lie Here Charmed) 1/4
Title: Carve Your Name Into My Arm (Instead of Stressed I Lie Here Charmed)
Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Word Count: ~3500 in this part
Warnings (overall): recreational drug use, violence, self-destructive behavior, talk of suicide
Summary: In which Arthur is a bit screwed up, and Eames is fascinated.
A/N: A boarding school AU written for this prompt at inception_kink. The rest will be up within a week or two at most -- sorry for the WIP, I felt like maybe I'd finish this faster if the first part was already up and waiting. :P Title taken from Every You Every Me by Placebo.
MASTER POST
*
Their first conversation went something like this:
"Hey," said Arthur, appearing at his side. "Eames, right?"
"Er," Eames said, startled. "Yes?"
"Quick," Arthur said, glancing surreptitiously over his shoulder. "Kiss me."
Before Eames could process the request, Arthur leaned into his space and gave him a fleeting kiss, smiling as he pulled back. Eames got briefly distracted by the dimples framing the smile. The beat of his heart was uncomfortably loud in his ears.
"I'll see you after school," Arthur called waving as he disappeared into another hallway. A gaggle of girls glaring at Eames as they passed made him realize he'd stopped in the middle of the hallway. Swallowing, he forced himself to start walking again. He wandered into his English class in a daze, dropping into the empty seat beside Yusuf, staring at nothing.
Arthur had kissed him. Arthur had kissed him. Arthur had kissed him. It didn't make any sense. Eames slouched down in the chair as the teacher came in, settling in for an hour of boredom, hoping not to be noticed. Arthur had kissed him. He couldn't stop thinking about it, not that he could realistically be expected to. Because Arthur had kissed him.
Arthur, who'd transferred to their private school in the middle of the year and was a bit of a mystery; no one knew where he was from or why he'd been transferred. He'd clashed with a few douchier members of the school's lacrosse team early on, beating them up and almost getting suspended for it before his first week was over. The fight had been both unexpected and -- Eames couldn't be the only one thinking it -- hot. The image of Arthur, with messy hair and his shirt untucked, was stuck on repeat in his mind. Arthur had been bleeding from a split lip, the collar of his shirt getting slowly soaked in red, but he'd been standing while four members of the school's precious lacrosse team lay moaning on the ground.
First seeing him, right after the transfer, Eames had thought Arthur to be an unlikely rebel. His hair had been slicked back, and he'd somehow made the school uniform look prestigious and neat even with his sleeves rolled up and his tie loosened. His marks were top notch, but he walked around the place with a sort of condescending air, like he was too cool for school. He didn't come across as a guy who liked to get physical, but the incident with the lacrosse team had proven otherwise. Turned out that he could hold his ground both physically and academically without breaking a sweat, and seemed to find it all terribly boring besides.
As it was, he could've been hanging out with almost anyone at the school. Why he'd chosen to spend his time with Cobb, who was the school pariah these days, was anyone's guess.
Cobb had been popular, once; he'd been one of those people who had everything going for them, but after his girlfriend's death, he'd become an outcast practically overnight. There were some crazy rumours going around about him, some saying that Mal hadn't really committed suicide, insinuating that Cobb had had something to do with her death. Whatever the truth, Mal's death had turned him into a recluse, a weirdo who no one hung out with anymore.
No one except Arthur, that was. Seeing how easy it usually was to get tarnished by association, it was interesting that spending time with "Cobb the Creep," as he was not-so-affectionately called by many, hadn't had much of an impact on Arthur's reputation. If anything, it just deepened the appeal in some backward way. Eames was pretty sure at least half of the girls at school thought it was sweet, if misguided, that Arthur wanted to be Cobb's friend. The other half probably thought it was hot that he was maybe a little screwed up. It was possible that Eames was projecting, a little; he couldn't really tell.
Arthur didn't seem to care about his reputation or the interested looks that came with it. He appeared to have little interest in most of humanity, and he was smart enough to get good marks without trying. Between insipid peers and the unchallenging schoolwork, he was probably bored to death. It was fascinating. Arthur was fascinating. Eames was fascinated.
He'd been kissed by the object of his fascination. Before he could decide how he felt about it, his phone vibrated with an incoming text. It was from Yusuf. Eames glanced to his right with a raised eyebrow as he opened it. Yusuf spread his hands a little, shrugging.
> u ok emz? u look weird.
>> ur face is weird
> ur mom
>> ur wit slays me
> im amazing i kno. srsly tho.
Eames pulled a face, not sure how to explain, or if he even wanted to. He looked at Yusuf again and shook his head a little when their eyes met.
>> nothin just FML
> wut happen??
Eames glanced up to see if the teacher was paying attention. She was in the middle of talking about some poet guy, but her eyes swept over them suspiciously. Eames sent back a quick,
>> tell u later
He stuffed the phone back into his pocket and tried to look like he was paying attention. Marginally, at least. His mind wandered back to Arthur, and that kiss. Had Arthur really meant it when he'd said he'd see him after school? Eames slid a little further down in his chair and picked up a pen, drawing abstract squiggles in the margins of his notebook. Great, just great; there was five hours of scool left, and he wasn't going to be able to focus on any of it. He'd go crazy before the day was over. He looked at the clock above the door, wondering if time had always moved so slowly.
FML, indeed.
-
After classes, Eames loitered on the front steps, wondering if he should hang around to wait and see if Arthur showed up, or just give up and head to his dorm room. Oh, who was he kidding, of course he was going to wait. Even if waiting for someone who probably wasn't even going to show up was dangerously close to crossing the line from curious to desperate. Thinking it over, Eames had come to the conclusion that the kiss and the gaggle of girls glaring at him had probably been more connected than he'd originally thought, which likely meant that nothing more would come out of it. Still, hope springs eternal, and other such things unwittingly learned in an English class.
He was idly kicking the asphalt and sort of regretting that he'd told Yusuf to head on to their dorm without him when someone snagged his sleeve, forcing him to follow them. It was Arthur, and for the first few steps, Eames was too busy staring at the back of his head to think of anything to say.
"Hey?" He said when his brain re-engaged.
"Hi," Arthur said, throwing a smirk at Eames as he looked at him over his shoulder.
"Not that I'm complaining, but where are we going, again?"
"You'll see," Arthur said. "You don't have anything better to do, right?"
"Actually," Eames started to say.
"Good," Arthur said, ignoring him. They rounded the corner of the building and kept going until they reached a secluded area of the grounds, a brick building the size of a small garage -- a shed of some sort -- standing nearby. He followed Arthur to the far side of the shed, surprised to see Cobb leaning against the wall of the building.
"Uh," Eames said, scratching his head.
"Hey, Dom," Arthur said, resting his back against the bricks next to Cobb, who threw a curious look at Eames but didn't say anything.
"Right," Eames said, coming to stand next to them. "So. What the hell?"
Cobb glanced at Arthur, who was digging for something in his bag. Neither of them said anything, leaving Eames to wonder whether or not he'd actually spoken. Maybe he'd just imagined he had; for all that he'd followed Arthur out of his own free will, he felt a lot like he'd just been kidnapped.
He took his phone out and send a quick text to Yusuf.
> been abducted by alienz, if not bck by six send help
A minute later, Yusuf texted back with,
>> ur fine wit them experimenting on ur ass until then? good 2 kno u have ur prioritiz.
Eames flicked the phone shut, rolling his eyes. Arthur, who had fished a packet of cigarettes from his bag, raised a curious eyebrow at him.
"The concern my roommate has for my ass is heartwarming," Eames said before thinking. Both of Arthur's eyebrows went up, and beside him Cobb choked a little. Even as Eames repeated the sentence in his head and winced a little, he refused to be embarrassed. He had more important things to concentrate on. Like, what the hell was going on?
"Right," he tried again. "Would anyone mind telling me what, exactly, I'm doing here?"
"Actually, that's my question, too," Cobb said, bumming a cigarette from Arthur. "What's he doing here? No offense," he added, glancing at Eames.
"None taken," Eames said, crossing his arms. He felt a bit uncomfortable in his current company, but on the other hand... well. It was Arthur. For whom Eames had kind of, sort of been harboring a small crush on, these past few weeks.
"He's here because I brought him here," Arthur said, lighting his cigarette. Eames was maybe a little mesmerized by the way his lips pursed around the cigarette.
"Thank you, Mr. Obvious," he managed after a pause, not caring that Arthur hadn't been addressing him, because, please.
"Isn't it 'Captain Obvious'?" Cobb asked, frowning.
"No, he got discharged," Eames said, rolling his eyes. Way to focus on the essential, Cobb.
"So for the purposes of this conversation, he's what, a civilian contractor?" Arthur said with a strange half-smile.
"No, he's --" Eames stopped, shaking his head. "Look, darling, as lovely as it was to get snogged in the middle of the hallway by another bloke, I'd really like an explanation."
"You kissed him?" Cobb said, squinting at Arthur. "Seriously?"
"It was a spur of a moment decision, okay?" Arthur said, looking down at the cigarette between his fingers. "I wanted to get the girl squad off my back."
Eames had figured as much, but hearing Arthur confirm it still stung.
"You always were the creative sort," Cobb mused.
"Not based on what I've seen him do in art class, he isn't," Eames said, snorting.
"Hey," Arthur scowled. "I draw perfectly well."
"He draws perfectly well," Cobb said loyally.
"Your technique is meticulous, sure," Eames allowed. "That's not my point. You lack imagination."
"And what about you, then," Arthur was quick to retort. "I've seen you painting."
"What's wrong with the way I paint?" Eames asked, baffled.
"You have no discipline what-so-ever," Arthur said, turning his head to blow the smoke away. If Eames was briefly distracted by his exposed neck, his sharp profile, well. No one needed to know.
"I don't need discipline," Eames said when he managed to tear his mind away from how Arthur looked. He raised a pitying eyebrow and said, "I'm a genius. Also, you're missing the whole point of art, darling, focusing on the method instead of the creation itself."
Arthur narrowed his eyes at him before suddenly looking away, frowning.
"Whatever," he said. "Also, call me 'darling' one more time, and I'll kick your ass."
The thing was, given the opportunity, Arthur could, and probably would, kick his ass. Eames tried to remind himself that getting hard was in no way an appropriate reaction to being threatened with violence. It didn't help much; he was so screwed.
"How unsightly of me to be so familiar with a perfect stranger, I do apologize," Eames said, raising an eyebrow. "It's not like we've kissed or anything. We should start with a cafeteria date, maybe hold hands? Oh, wait."
"Oh, shut up," Arthur said, stubbing his cigarette against the bricks with a sharp motion. Eames wasn't sure whether Arthur was talking to him or to Cobb, who was sniggering around his own still lit cigarette. Maybe both.
"Look," Arthur said before trailing off, his mouth an unhappy line.
"I get it," Eames said before Arthur could continue. He didn't particularly feel like hearing Arthur explain how he'd used Eames and wasn't really into him at all, really, sorry about that, mate. "No hard feelings, yea? I'll be seeing you around, I guess."
"Wait," Arthur said sharply when Eames turned away, and despite his better instincts, Eames looked back, raising his eyebrows questioningly.
"I --" Arthur started, then stopped, licking his lips, which Eames thought was unfairly distracting. "Look, I'm sorry I ambushed you and all."
Eames nodded slowly, waiting for him to continue.
"Thing is," Arthur said, his mouth set in a stubborn line, "I think we should see it through."
"Excuse me?" Eames said, not quite sure if Arthur was suggesting what he thought he was suggesting.
"He's saying he wants to be your boyfriend," Cobb said, matter of fact, only to get hit in the arm by Arthur.
"Pretend boyfriend," Arthur said. "Could we please maintain some specificity here?"
"'Specificity'?" Eames mouthed, amused despite himself.
"Specificity," Arthur repeated, scowling at Eames.
"Focus," Cobb said.
"Right," Eames said, "let me get this straight -- so to speak. You're tired of having admirers following you around or whatever the fuck they do --"
"They're not --" Arthur started, but Eames spoke right over him.
"-- so you jump the first bloke available to make them think you're unavailable, and now you expect me to keep up the charade, because pretending to be my boyfriend is convenient for you."
"It's not like you're seeing anyone, right? And this school's full of liberal types, so going out with a guy isn't going to get you lynched or anything."
"I'm so glad to hear you thought about my welfare before 'outing' me in the middle of the hallway," Eames said with a raised eyebrow. Arthur grimaced.
"I didn't think it'd make much of an impact on your reputation. You're already in the arts and stuff."
"Right, one of those guys," Eames said slowly.
"I didn't mean --" Arthur started, but Eames didn't let him finish.
"Yeah, yeah, like you're one to talk," Eames said, rolling his eyes. "Let me ask you this, then. What's in it for me?"
"You're in the drama club, right?" Arthur shrugged. "Consider it an experiment in acting, or performance art, or whatever."
"Please. If you really want me to do this, I'm going to need more than that," Eames said, because he really wasn't looking forward to pretending to have something he wanted without actually having it. On the other hand...
"What would that be, then?" Arthur said, wary. "Money?"
"Don't be crass, dear. Nothing so plebeian."
"I told you --"
"Not to call you darling, and I didn't," Eames pointed out, then paused, tilting his head thoughtfully. "Though if you want me to pretend to be your boyfriend, I think I should be allowed. Lets make that the first condition -- I'll call you whatever I want, and you're not allowed to kick my ass if you don't like it."
"If I'd known this was how it was going to be," Arthur said, rubbing his eyes, and Eames grinned, unrepentant.
"You can still back out, darling," he said.
"No." Arthur said, glaring. "But I'm not agreeing to 'whatever you want', either. You call me sweetums or something, I won't be held responsible for my actions, we clear?"
"Ah, compromises," Eames mourned. "Fine, I won't get too creative with the endearments. Promise."
Arthur snorted, eying him suspiciously, but said, "Yeah, sure. What else."
Eames scratched at his jaw, wondering if he should really go for it, but it wasn't like there were any other benefits to this that he really cared about, so...
"I get to make out with you, and not just in public."
"What?" Arthur said, looking startled.
"You heard me," Eames said. "You expect me to 'date' you, which I assume means no making out with other people, which sucks if I don't actually get to make out with you either. If you have a problem with doing more than holding hands with another guy, you better tell me now."
"Fine," Arthur said, disgruntled. "We can kiss and stuff."
"'And stuff'," Eames parroted. "Where's your specificity now?"
"Don't push it," Arthur said, narrowing his eyes. "I'm not having sex with you, if that's what you're wondering."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Eames lied through his teeth.
"Anyway," Cobb said, dropping his cigarette stump into the lush grass. "I think I'm going to go to the film club today, after all. Play nice, you two."
He patted Arthur on the shoulder as he passed him, disappearing around the corner.
"So," Eames said after a few moments had passed, shifting a bit where he stood. "Should we like, practice?"
Arthur snorted a laugh. He leaned his head against the wall, but his eyes were locked on Eames', amused.
"You're kind of incorrigible, huh?" He said, but didn't seem too bothered by it.
"Can't blame a guy for trying," Eames said easily, stuffing his hands into his pockets, rocking back on his heels a little. Arthur looked at him for a moment, considering, then smirked.
"Yeah, okay," he said. "Let's practice."
Eames' surprise must have shown on his face, because Arthur's smirk widened.
"What, getting cold feet already?" He asked.
"You wish," Eames retorted on automatic. He took his hands from his pockets and pressed his palms briefly against his thighs; his insides did feel a bit twisty, but hell if he was going to let Arthur know, he thought, stepping closer. Arthur didn't move, watching Eames' approach, his gaze lazy and amused. Fuck it, Eames told himself; just go for it. He braced his hands against the wall on either side of Arthur's head, bracketing him in. Arthur didn't move, didn't break eye contact, just raised a challenging eyebrow at Eames and waited.
Eames licked his lips, feeling a burst of confidence when Arthur's eyes dropped to his mouth, pupils dilating a little. If Arthur thought this was some sort of game of chicken, he was going to lose. Eames leaned in, brushing Arthur's lips with his own, then again, harder. The third time lasted longer, and then Arthur tilted his head, just so, and opened his mouth. Eames inhaled sharply through his nose, pushing closer, pushing in. The kiss was soft, and wet, and lazy, but there was a spark there, something hot and insistent. Arthur finally moved, raising a hand to take hold of Eames' hair, using the grip to guide Eames, to pull him closer, turning the kiss from casual and indulgent into something lewd and hungry.
The breaths Eames took were loud in his own ears and he could hear the beating of his heart, the wet sound of his mouth moving against Arthur's. This was... too much, he had to stop before he embarrassed himself. He reluctantly pulled back a little, just far enough that they weren't kissing anymore. Arthur's hands were tangled in his hair and shirt, and at some point his own hands had dropped down to Arthur's hips. They were pressed against each other from the knee up, and it was probably painfully obvious how aroused Eames was. Then again, he thought, pushing forward a little, it wasn't like Arthur was unaffected.
Arthur's mouth fell further open at the roll of Eames' hips, his hand tightening in his shirt. His eyes were half-lidded, his lips swollen and shiny-wet with saliva. He looked... wanton, Eames thought, and wished they were inside, somewhere private, preferably with a bed nearby.
Despite thinking he shouldn't, he leaned in for more, only to be stopped by Arthur's hand flat against his sternum. Arthur's mouth quirked up, the look in his eyes sharpening. He looked amused again, raising his hand to Eames mouth, sweeping his thumb across his bottom lip.
"I think that's enough practice for one day," he murmured, pushing Eames gently away, forcing him to take a step back. Eames' mind was a blank as he watched Arthur pick up his bag from the ground and settle it over his shoulder. Then Arthur stepped close and curled a hand in Eames' shirt to pull him in and pressed a quick kiss against the corner of his mouth.
"See you later, lover," he said, smirking a little, and took a step back. He turned around and was out of sight before Eames could come up with anything to say.
He knew, right then and there, that this thing with Arthur was going to leave him heartbroken. He was too far gone to care.
***
part two
Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Word Count: ~3500 in this part
Warnings (overall): recreational drug use, violence, self-destructive behavior, talk of suicide
Summary: In which Arthur is a bit screwed up, and Eames is fascinated.
A/N: A boarding school AU written for this prompt at inception_kink. The rest will be up within a week or two at most -- sorry for the WIP, I felt like maybe I'd finish this faster if the first part was already up and waiting. :P Title taken from Every You Every Me by Placebo.
MASTER POST
*
Their first conversation went something like this:
"Hey," said Arthur, appearing at his side. "Eames, right?"
"Er," Eames said, startled. "Yes?"
"Quick," Arthur said, glancing surreptitiously over his shoulder. "Kiss me."
Before Eames could process the request, Arthur leaned into his space and gave him a fleeting kiss, smiling as he pulled back. Eames got briefly distracted by the dimples framing the smile. The beat of his heart was uncomfortably loud in his ears.
"I'll see you after school," Arthur called waving as he disappeared into another hallway. A gaggle of girls glaring at Eames as they passed made him realize he'd stopped in the middle of the hallway. Swallowing, he forced himself to start walking again. He wandered into his English class in a daze, dropping into the empty seat beside Yusuf, staring at nothing.
Arthur had kissed him. Arthur had kissed him. Arthur had kissed him. It didn't make any sense. Eames slouched down in the chair as the teacher came in, settling in for an hour of boredom, hoping not to be noticed. Arthur had kissed him. He couldn't stop thinking about it, not that he could realistically be expected to. Because Arthur had kissed him.
Arthur, who'd transferred to their private school in the middle of the year and was a bit of a mystery; no one knew where he was from or why he'd been transferred. He'd clashed with a few douchier members of the school's lacrosse team early on, beating them up and almost getting suspended for it before his first week was over. The fight had been both unexpected and -- Eames couldn't be the only one thinking it -- hot. The image of Arthur, with messy hair and his shirt untucked, was stuck on repeat in his mind. Arthur had been bleeding from a split lip, the collar of his shirt getting slowly soaked in red, but he'd been standing while four members of the school's precious lacrosse team lay moaning on the ground.
First seeing him, right after the transfer, Eames had thought Arthur to be an unlikely rebel. His hair had been slicked back, and he'd somehow made the school uniform look prestigious and neat even with his sleeves rolled up and his tie loosened. His marks were top notch, but he walked around the place with a sort of condescending air, like he was too cool for school. He didn't come across as a guy who liked to get physical, but the incident with the lacrosse team had proven otherwise. Turned out that he could hold his ground both physically and academically without breaking a sweat, and seemed to find it all terribly boring besides.
As it was, he could've been hanging out with almost anyone at the school. Why he'd chosen to spend his time with Cobb, who was the school pariah these days, was anyone's guess.
Cobb had been popular, once; he'd been one of those people who had everything going for them, but after his girlfriend's death, he'd become an outcast practically overnight. There were some crazy rumours going around about him, some saying that Mal hadn't really committed suicide, insinuating that Cobb had had something to do with her death. Whatever the truth, Mal's death had turned him into a recluse, a weirdo who no one hung out with anymore.
No one except Arthur, that was. Seeing how easy it usually was to get tarnished by association, it was interesting that spending time with "Cobb the Creep," as he was not-so-affectionately called by many, hadn't had much of an impact on Arthur's reputation. If anything, it just deepened the appeal in some backward way. Eames was pretty sure at least half of the girls at school thought it was sweet, if misguided, that Arthur wanted to be Cobb's friend. The other half probably thought it was hot that he was maybe a little screwed up. It was possible that Eames was projecting, a little; he couldn't really tell.
Arthur didn't seem to care about his reputation or the interested looks that came with it. He appeared to have little interest in most of humanity, and he was smart enough to get good marks without trying. Between insipid peers and the unchallenging schoolwork, he was probably bored to death. It was fascinating. Arthur was fascinating. Eames was fascinated.
He'd been kissed by the object of his fascination. Before he could decide how he felt about it, his phone vibrated with an incoming text. It was from Yusuf. Eames glanced to his right with a raised eyebrow as he opened it. Yusuf spread his hands a little, shrugging.
> u ok emz? u look weird.
>> ur face is weird
> ur mom
>> ur wit slays me
> im amazing i kno. srsly tho.
Eames pulled a face, not sure how to explain, or if he even wanted to. He looked at Yusuf again and shook his head a little when their eyes met.
>> nothin just FML
> wut happen??
Eames glanced up to see if the teacher was paying attention. She was in the middle of talking about some poet guy, but her eyes swept over them suspiciously. Eames sent back a quick,
>> tell u later
He stuffed the phone back into his pocket and tried to look like he was paying attention. Marginally, at least. His mind wandered back to Arthur, and that kiss. Had Arthur really meant it when he'd said he'd see him after school? Eames slid a little further down in his chair and picked up a pen, drawing abstract squiggles in the margins of his notebook. Great, just great; there was five hours of scool left, and he wasn't going to be able to focus on any of it. He'd go crazy before the day was over. He looked at the clock above the door, wondering if time had always moved so slowly.
FML, indeed.
-
After classes, Eames loitered on the front steps, wondering if he should hang around to wait and see if Arthur showed up, or just give up and head to his dorm room. Oh, who was he kidding, of course he was going to wait. Even if waiting for someone who probably wasn't even going to show up was dangerously close to crossing the line from curious to desperate. Thinking it over, Eames had come to the conclusion that the kiss and the gaggle of girls glaring at him had probably been more connected than he'd originally thought, which likely meant that nothing more would come out of it. Still, hope springs eternal, and other such things unwittingly learned in an English class.
He was idly kicking the asphalt and sort of regretting that he'd told Yusuf to head on to their dorm without him when someone snagged his sleeve, forcing him to follow them. It was Arthur, and for the first few steps, Eames was too busy staring at the back of his head to think of anything to say.
"Hey?" He said when his brain re-engaged.
"Hi," Arthur said, throwing a smirk at Eames as he looked at him over his shoulder.
"Not that I'm complaining, but where are we going, again?"
"You'll see," Arthur said. "You don't have anything better to do, right?"
"Actually," Eames started to say.
"Good," Arthur said, ignoring him. They rounded the corner of the building and kept going until they reached a secluded area of the grounds, a brick building the size of a small garage -- a shed of some sort -- standing nearby. He followed Arthur to the far side of the shed, surprised to see Cobb leaning against the wall of the building.
"Uh," Eames said, scratching his head.
"Hey, Dom," Arthur said, resting his back against the bricks next to Cobb, who threw a curious look at Eames but didn't say anything.
"Right," Eames said, coming to stand next to them. "So. What the hell?"
Cobb glanced at Arthur, who was digging for something in his bag. Neither of them said anything, leaving Eames to wonder whether or not he'd actually spoken. Maybe he'd just imagined he had; for all that he'd followed Arthur out of his own free will, he felt a lot like he'd just been kidnapped.
He took his phone out and send a quick text to Yusuf.
> been abducted by alienz, if not bck by six send help
A minute later, Yusuf texted back with,
>> ur fine wit them experimenting on ur ass until then? good 2 kno u have ur prioritiz.
Eames flicked the phone shut, rolling his eyes. Arthur, who had fished a packet of cigarettes from his bag, raised a curious eyebrow at him.
"The concern my roommate has for my ass is heartwarming," Eames said before thinking. Both of Arthur's eyebrows went up, and beside him Cobb choked a little. Even as Eames repeated the sentence in his head and winced a little, he refused to be embarrassed. He had more important things to concentrate on. Like, what the hell was going on?
"Right," he tried again. "Would anyone mind telling me what, exactly, I'm doing here?"
"Actually, that's my question, too," Cobb said, bumming a cigarette from Arthur. "What's he doing here? No offense," he added, glancing at Eames.
"None taken," Eames said, crossing his arms. He felt a bit uncomfortable in his current company, but on the other hand... well. It was Arthur. For whom Eames had kind of, sort of been harboring a small crush on, these past few weeks.
"He's here because I brought him here," Arthur said, lighting his cigarette. Eames was maybe a little mesmerized by the way his lips pursed around the cigarette.
"Thank you, Mr. Obvious," he managed after a pause, not caring that Arthur hadn't been addressing him, because, please.
"Isn't it 'Captain Obvious'?" Cobb asked, frowning.
"No, he got discharged," Eames said, rolling his eyes. Way to focus on the essential, Cobb.
"So for the purposes of this conversation, he's what, a civilian contractor?" Arthur said with a strange half-smile.
"No, he's --" Eames stopped, shaking his head. "Look, darling, as lovely as it was to get snogged in the middle of the hallway by another bloke, I'd really like an explanation."
"You kissed him?" Cobb said, squinting at Arthur. "Seriously?"
"It was a spur of a moment decision, okay?" Arthur said, looking down at the cigarette between his fingers. "I wanted to get the girl squad off my back."
Eames had figured as much, but hearing Arthur confirm it still stung.
"You always were the creative sort," Cobb mused.
"Not based on what I've seen him do in art class, he isn't," Eames said, snorting.
"Hey," Arthur scowled. "I draw perfectly well."
"He draws perfectly well," Cobb said loyally.
"Your technique is meticulous, sure," Eames allowed. "That's not my point. You lack imagination."
"And what about you, then," Arthur was quick to retort. "I've seen you painting."
"What's wrong with the way I paint?" Eames asked, baffled.
"You have no discipline what-so-ever," Arthur said, turning his head to blow the smoke away. If Eames was briefly distracted by his exposed neck, his sharp profile, well. No one needed to know.
"I don't need discipline," Eames said when he managed to tear his mind away from how Arthur looked. He raised a pitying eyebrow and said, "I'm a genius. Also, you're missing the whole point of art, darling, focusing on the method instead of the creation itself."
Arthur narrowed his eyes at him before suddenly looking away, frowning.
"Whatever," he said. "Also, call me 'darling' one more time, and I'll kick your ass."
The thing was, given the opportunity, Arthur could, and probably would, kick his ass. Eames tried to remind himself that getting hard was in no way an appropriate reaction to being threatened with violence. It didn't help much; he was so screwed.
"How unsightly of me to be so familiar with a perfect stranger, I do apologize," Eames said, raising an eyebrow. "It's not like we've kissed or anything. We should start with a cafeteria date, maybe hold hands? Oh, wait."
"Oh, shut up," Arthur said, stubbing his cigarette against the bricks with a sharp motion. Eames wasn't sure whether Arthur was talking to him or to Cobb, who was sniggering around his own still lit cigarette. Maybe both.
"Look," Arthur said before trailing off, his mouth an unhappy line.
"I get it," Eames said before Arthur could continue. He didn't particularly feel like hearing Arthur explain how he'd used Eames and wasn't really into him at all, really, sorry about that, mate. "No hard feelings, yea? I'll be seeing you around, I guess."
"Wait," Arthur said sharply when Eames turned away, and despite his better instincts, Eames looked back, raising his eyebrows questioningly.
"I --" Arthur started, then stopped, licking his lips, which Eames thought was unfairly distracting. "Look, I'm sorry I ambushed you and all."
Eames nodded slowly, waiting for him to continue.
"Thing is," Arthur said, his mouth set in a stubborn line, "I think we should see it through."
"Excuse me?" Eames said, not quite sure if Arthur was suggesting what he thought he was suggesting.
"He's saying he wants to be your boyfriend," Cobb said, matter of fact, only to get hit in the arm by Arthur.
"Pretend boyfriend," Arthur said. "Could we please maintain some specificity here?"
"'Specificity'?" Eames mouthed, amused despite himself.
"Specificity," Arthur repeated, scowling at Eames.
"Focus," Cobb said.
"Right," Eames said, "let me get this straight -- so to speak. You're tired of having admirers following you around or whatever the fuck they do --"
"They're not --" Arthur started, but Eames spoke right over him.
"-- so you jump the first bloke available to make them think you're unavailable, and now you expect me to keep up the charade, because pretending to be my boyfriend is convenient for you."
"It's not like you're seeing anyone, right? And this school's full of liberal types, so going out with a guy isn't going to get you lynched or anything."
"I'm so glad to hear you thought about my welfare before 'outing' me in the middle of the hallway," Eames said with a raised eyebrow. Arthur grimaced.
"I didn't think it'd make much of an impact on your reputation. You're already in the arts and stuff."
"Right, one of those guys," Eames said slowly.
"I didn't mean --" Arthur started, but Eames didn't let him finish.
"Yeah, yeah, like you're one to talk," Eames said, rolling his eyes. "Let me ask you this, then. What's in it for me?"
"You're in the drama club, right?" Arthur shrugged. "Consider it an experiment in acting, or performance art, or whatever."
"Please. If you really want me to do this, I'm going to need more than that," Eames said, because he really wasn't looking forward to pretending to have something he wanted without actually having it. On the other hand...
"What would that be, then?" Arthur said, wary. "Money?"
"Don't be crass, dear. Nothing so plebeian."
"I told you --"
"Not to call you darling, and I didn't," Eames pointed out, then paused, tilting his head thoughtfully. "Though if you want me to pretend to be your boyfriend, I think I should be allowed. Lets make that the first condition -- I'll call you whatever I want, and you're not allowed to kick my ass if you don't like it."
"If I'd known this was how it was going to be," Arthur said, rubbing his eyes, and Eames grinned, unrepentant.
"You can still back out, darling," he said.
"No." Arthur said, glaring. "But I'm not agreeing to 'whatever you want', either. You call me sweetums or something, I won't be held responsible for my actions, we clear?"
"Ah, compromises," Eames mourned. "Fine, I won't get too creative with the endearments. Promise."
Arthur snorted, eying him suspiciously, but said, "Yeah, sure. What else."
Eames scratched at his jaw, wondering if he should really go for it, but it wasn't like there were any other benefits to this that he really cared about, so...
"I get to make out with you, and not just in public."
"What?" Arthur said, looking startled.
"You heard me," Eames said. "You expect me to 'date' you, which I assume means no making out with other people, which sucks if I don't actually get to make out with you either. If you have a problem with doing more than holding hands with another guy, you better tell me now."
"Fine," Arthur said, disgruntled. "We can kiss and stuff."
"'And stuff'," Eames parroted. "Where's your specificity now?"
"Don't push it," Arthur said, narrowing his eyes. "I'm not having sex with you, if that's what you're wondering."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Eames lied through his teeth.
"Anyway," Cobb said, dropping his cigarette stump into the lush grass. "I think I'm going to go to the film club today, after all. Play nice, you two."
He patted Arthur on the shoulder as he passed him, disappearing around the corner.
"So," Eames said after a few moments had passed, shifting a bit where he stood. "Should we like, practice?"
Arthur snorted a laugh. He leaned his head against the wall, but his eyes were locked on Eames', amused.
"You're kind of incorrigible, huh?" He said, but didn't seem too bothered by it.
"Can't blame a guy for trying," Eames said easily, stuffing his hands into his pockets, rocking back on his heels a little. Arthur looked at him for a moment, considering, then smirked.
"Yeah, okay," he said. "Let's practice."
Eames' surprise must have shown on his face, because Arthur's smirk widened.
"What, getting cold feet already?" He asked.
"You wish," Eames retorted on automatic. He took his hands from his pockets and pressed his palms briefly against his thighs; his insides did feel a bit twisty, but hell if he was going to let Arthur know, he thought, stepping closer. Arthur didn't move, watching Eames' approach, his gaze lazy and amused. Fuck it, Eames told himself; just go for it. He braced his hands against the wall on either side of Arthur's head, bracketing him in. Arthur didn't move, didn't break eye contact, just raised a challenging eyebrow at Eames and waited.
Eames licked his lips, feeling a burst of confidence when Arthur's eyes dropped to his mouth, pupils dilating a little. If Arthur thought this was some sort of game of chicken, he was going to lose. Eames leaned in, brushing Arthur's lips with his own, then again, harder. The third time lasted longer, and then Arthur tilted his head, just so, and opened his mouth. Eames inhaled sharply through his nose, pushing closer, pushing in. The kiss was soft, and wet, and lazy, but there was a spark there, something hot and insistent. Arthur finally moved, raising a hand to take hold of Eames' hair, using the grip to guide Eames, to pull him closer, turning the kiss from casual and indulgent into something lewd and hungry.
The breaths Eames took were loud in his own ears and he could hear the beating of his heart, the wet sound of his mouth moving against Arthur's. This was... too much, he had to stop before he embarrassed himself. He reluctantly pulled back a little, just far enough that they weren't kissing anymore. Arthur's hands were tangled in his hair and shirt, and at some point his own hands had dropped down to Arthur's hips. They were pressed against each other from the knee up, and it was probably painfully obvious how aroused Eames was. Then again, he thought, pushing forward a little, it wasn't like Arthur was unaffected.
Arthur's mouth fell further open at the roll of Eames' hips, his hand tightening in his shirt. His eyes were half-lidded, his lips swollen and shiny-wet with saliva. He looked... wanton, Eames thought, and wished they were inside, somewhere private, preferably with a bed nearby.
Despite thinking he shouldn't, he leaned in for more, only to be stopped by Arthur's hand flat against his sternum. Arthur's mouth quirked up, the look in his eyes sharpening. He looked amused again, raising his hand to Eames mouth, sweeping his thumb across his bottom lip.
"I think that's enough practice for one day," he murmured, pushing Eames gently away, forcing him to take a step back. Eames' mind was a blank as he watched Arthur pick up his bag from the ground and settle it over his shoulder. Then Arthur stepped close and curled a hand in Eames' shirt to pull him in and pressed a quick kiss against the corner of his mouth.
"See you later, lover," he said, smirking a little, and took a step back. He turned around and was out of sight before Eames could come up with anything to say.
He knew, right then and there, that this thing with Arthur was going to leave him heartbroken. He was too far gone to care.
***
part two