Inception - Bite Hard (7/11)

[osaki_nana_707]

Title: Bite Hard (part 7)
Author: osaki_nana_707
Word count: ~3,500
Pairings/Characters: ArthurxEames, Cobb, Ariadne
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: language, age difference/underage, dub-con
Summary: AU. Sixteen year old Arthur wakes up in another man's apartment.



Part Seven

"I love him."

Cobb shut his locker door and gave Arthur a long onceover. "You're out of your mind."

"I don't care. It doesn't change how I feel."

Cobb ran a hand through his hair and leaned back against the locker. "So, why tell me?"

Arthur suddenly seemed to find his shoes very interesting. "I… needed to tell someone."

"So, tell him."

"I can't."

Cobb had been completely against the relationship, but for all his disapproval of it, he seemed genuinely sympathetic to Arthur's plight. He placed a hand on Arthur's shoulder and squeezed it. "So, what are you going to do?"

"I don't know… maybe sit back and hope it passes."

"You know that won't happen. The only way to get over it is to stop seeing him all together, and even then you might not… if this is real, legitimate love, that is."

"I can't stop seeing him, Cobb…" Arthur nearly whispered, not looking up from the floor. "I can't… go back to what I was doing before. Maybe… Maybe what I'm doing now is really bad for me, but the life I was living before was a lot worse. I can't live like that, Dom. I can't do it anymore. I'm… I'm not a fucking robot. I can't just… march through with this same routine. I like being able to see things… being able to feel things."

Cobb's hand slipped around his back, pulling him into a shoulder hug. "Do what you think is best, I guess… I don't really know what to say to help you."

"I'm not asking for your help," Arthur said. "I just… Fuck… I fell in love with Eames because I could tell him anything, but-"

"So his name's Eames? That's kind of a weird name."

Arthur shoved himself away from Cobb, gaping like a fish, horrified. "I-I uh… Fuck!"

"Relax," Cobb said, holding his hands up in a placating fashion. "I won't say anything. It's fine. Don't panic. You might get a nosebleed."

"I'm not prone to nosebleeds."

"You are when you don't eat," Cobb replied. "What, with that iron deficiency and all."

Arthur snorted, crossing his arms over his chest and following after Cobb down the hall to the bathroom. "So… I mean, you didn't exactly support my decision before. Why not tell anyone?"

"Would you rather I ratted you out?" Cobb asked, pushing open the door and allowing Arthur to go in first. "I imagine it would relieve a little stress to get that out in the open."

"If you think my father discovering his son's a faggot and the man I'm in love with being sent to prison equals less stress, then yes," Arthur said flatly, hopping up on his usual sink and digging out a cigarette. "I just don't understand why you're keeping it secret for me when you're so adamantly against it."

Cobb lit the cigarette for him before lighting one of his own. "Well," he said, removing it from his mouth, "you're my friend, and even though you haven't always been one to make great decisions, I trust your judgment. Also, it's not as if you can help who you fall in love with. When it came to me and Mal, it just kind of… happened. It was this real sudden thing."

"Cobb, the moment I introduced her to you, you whispered 'dibs' in my ear."

"Yeah, yeah," Cobb laughed, "but that was attraction, not love. I knew I was in love with her the moment she smiled and all I could see was her. It sounds really cheesy, but I just knew it. All the other girls I dated, all the other girls I'd wanted to date… I forgot them. There is no future prospect because my future is Mal."

"I don't think it sounds cheesy," Arthur said softly.

"So, are you sure you're in love with this Eames guy? I mean, how do you feel about him?"

"I…" he paused, pursing his lips. "I've never felt this way about anyone before. It's like… It's like there's color in the world again. I didn't even notice it was missing until then. He makes me want to… believe in myself. He makes me want to see things, go places, do stuff… and… when he looks at me sometimes, I just wanna cry. I don't even know why that is. I have trouble sleeping at night when I don't have him next to me or don't get to hear his voice during the day, and I always dream about him. Always."

Cobb didn't respond to that, and Arthur wondered if maybe he just sounded stupid and in lust… but he didn't feel the lust like he had that first night. He was content with just being with Eames. Sex didn't have to be involved. He liked watching him paint or eating dinner with him or dancing like idiots around his apartment. He did love the sex, but the touching and kissing was what made it so grand. Spending time with Eames was the only thing he had to look forward to during the week, and he just didn't think that that was lust.

He couldn't tell Cobb that though. He'd already gotten too personal for his own tastes.

"I love him," Arthur repeated, more sure this time.

And Cobb said, "You know, I really think you do."

On Monday evening, when Arthur got home, Arthur's father was there.

Arthur's father had always been a large man with dark, dark eyes and had never been seen out of a business suit to Arthur's knowledge. Arthur had gotten his lean, thin form from his mother's side of the family, and if he and his father's eyes hadn't been the same, their noses curved the same way, he would have seriously questioned if the man even was his real father.

Sometimes, he still had his doubts. He was pretty sure his father did too.

"Arthur," he greeted from the kitchen table, looking through paperwork, speaking as if he'd just seen him the day before.

"Hello," Arthur said weakly, grabbing an apple out of a bowl on the counter and immediately turning on his heel, "I'm going to go do my homework."

"Good boy."

Arthur passed his mother's room on the way to his own and found her sitting on the edge of the bed with a nearly drained glass of wine, humming to herself. Arthur figured she was just waiting for her husband to leave, a lot like he was.

He locked himself in his room and, flopping down on the bed, dug his phone out of his pocket, sifting through numbers to see if he had anyone in his contact list who would know the homework assignment of the class he slept through.

That was when he noticed a number labeled 'E'.

He texted, swallowing down a little bit of hope, "Who is this?"

Just when he assumed he wouldn't get a response, his phone pinged.

"Who do u think it is, darling?"

Arthur broke out into a smile and called the number, giddy. As soon as Eames picked up, Arthur asked, "When the hell did you put your number in my phone?"

"The other night, when you were asleep. I was cleaning and knocked over your stuff, so of course I had to snoop a little bit. Sorry if that offends you."

Arthur snorted. "There's not much information in my contact list. I've only got like, six or seven numbers in it."

"I saw your photographs too."

Arthur wondered if Eames could tell he was blushing even over the phone.

"I'm no expert, but some of them are actually quite good, you know. You should try to submit them to some local magazines. They have some photography ones that'll send you money if they like them."

"I don't think they're good enough to send in to anything like that."

"I do," Eames replied. "You see things with a particular eye, Arthur. You see things not everyone cares to see."

"Sometimes I wonder if you're being serious or if you're just being nice to me."

"Why on earth would I lie to you?"

"Maybe the sex is good?" Arthur smirked.

"If it was just about the sex, I assure you I could find someone else."

Arthur paused, rolling onto his stomach. "Well, if it's not just about the sex, what is it about? The art?"

"Well, no, not just the art… Um…"

"Well, what then?" Arthur laughed, and he managed to hold back the twinge of hysteria creeping through his body.

"I… It's complicated to-Listen, I'm at work right now. I'm on a smoke break, but I have to get back to it, you know? Ah… I'll see you Wednesday."

"No, Eames-Please, just-"

"I've got to go, I'm in a rush-" Eames said over the sound of what must have been his manager shouting at him in the background.

"Eames, really-"

"I've got to go, I'm sorry, love you, bye."

Arthur dropped his phone.

"Oh, fuck," Eames said, as soon as he hung up.

Arthur stared at the ceiling, heart pitter-pattering against his ribcage. His mind kept cutting itself off with thoughts like did he just say what I think he-did he mean that he-was I just imagining-

A knock sounded on his door.

"Arthur?" his mother called through the door.

"Y-yes?" he squeaked.

"Honey, c'mon… Daddy wants to go out to dinner." He heard her fall against the door and laugh. "Let's go."

Arthur swallowed the knot in his throat and snagged his phone, shoving it in his pocket. He would have to call Eames back.

He was completely lost in his head the entire trip down the stairs. It was a miracle he got into the car at all, only jarred out of his stupor when his dad screamed at his mom to stop stumbling around the yard like a drunken whore because she was making a scene in front of the neighbors.

"So, Arthur, how's school?" Arthur's father asked him as he drove, glancing at the boy through the rearview mirror.

Arthur sat off to the right in the backseat, staring out the window. "Fine."

The man snorted.

"Fine, sir," he repeated, sitting up at attention.

"You got yourself a girlfriend yet?"

"No, sir."

"Any prospects?"

There weren't of course, but Arthur gave the same answer he always did. "Yes, sir."

"Good boy."

Silence.

"You join any sports teams?" his father asked.

"No, sir. I may try for the basketball team next semester. Dom Cobb said he'd put in a good word for me."

"Well, that's good. I was on the basketball team when I was your age."

"I know… ah, sir."

Silence.

Arthur swallowed, feeling the air become increasingly more uncomfortable. He never knew what to say to his father other than his typical yes or no sir answers. He never knew what would be wrong, what would send the man flying into a rage. It made him feel like he was always sitting on pins and needles, nervously awaiting a question and hoping he had the right selection of answers in his brain.

There was sweet relief when his father parked the car at the restaurant. At least if he said something his father disapproved of, he was in public and therefore any kind of real punishment would be delayed until later or possibly, hopefully, forgotten about.

Unfortunately, he discovered quickly that he had other problems.

He spotted Ariadne, all tiny and adorable over at a table, flirting a little to get a larger tip. If Ariadne was there, then that meant…

"C'mon, baby," Arthur's mom said, shoving him on the shoulder. "Let's go sit down, okay? You know how Daddy doesn't like to wait."

Arthur wanted to scream out and run away, or perhaps just die, but he couldn't show one shred of panic. He told himself to calm down, that everything was fine. After all, Ariadne and Eames might have worked in the same restaurant, but that didn't mean he'd even see Eames there. The place was packed. Everything would be fine.

Except everything wasn't fine. Everything wasn't fine because that was Eames over there… Three tables away.

Arthur sank down in his seat and tried to keep his breathing steady. It was like he could feel Eames against his back, heat emanating off of his frame like the fucking sun. He was still dazed over Eames's almost-maybe-maybe-not confession on the phone, and now he was having to face him with having pretty much no time to think about it.

There was also the fact that Ariadne looked over her shoulder then, spotted him, started to wave, and then recognized that he was with his parents and possibly noticed his high school uniform and… fuck…

"Evening, folks, I'm Eames. I'll be your server."

Yes, dying sounded like a great idea.

From the look on Eames's face when he noticed Arthur, he shared the same sentiment.

Still, Eames recovered beautifully and cracked a smile. Arthur wanted to growl when his father sneered at Eames's crooked teeth.

"What would you like to drink? Can I interest you in an appetizer?"

"Get me some of your best wine," Arthur's mom said, winking at him. Arthur swallowed down his horror over the fact that his mom was flirting with Eames.

"Water's fine," his father said, always the cheapskate despite his riches. "Arthur?"

Arthur wanted soda. Actually, he wanted to bang his head against the table until he knocked himself unconscious, but he couldn't do either, so he mumbled, "I'll have… I'll have water too. Please."

He didn't look up at Eames. He couldn't look up at Eames. He thought that he'd give everything away with that one look, so he just stared down at the tabletop.

"All right, I'll be right back with those," Eames said and was gone in a flash.

"Shit, shit, shit," Eames said under his breath as he entered the swinging doors of the kitchen. He was ready to pull his hair out.

One of the other waiters laughed, saying something about how the man never tips well despite the fact that he's fucking rich. That man was Arthur's father. Arthur was in the restaurant. With his parents.

"I'm fucking doomed," he sighed, filling up two glasses of water. "I'm dead. They might as well dig my grave now."

"You're damn right!"

Eames cringed. Ariadne stood behind him with her hands on her hips, glaring pointedly at him. Eames shrank under her gaze. "I suppose I need an explanation?"

"I'd like to know some things, yes. You know, when you told me he was older, I didn't believe you, but I gave you the benefit of a doubt, and now he's here in a fucking school uniform. If this is some kind of kinky game you enjoy, I really wouldn't have invited his parents along for the ride… Agh, you know, I knew he looked familiar, and now I know why. I'd seen him here with his family about a half a year ago. You're a sick bastard, Eames!"

Eames spread his arms, offended. "Wha-you're making assumptions!" He placed the water glasses carefully on a tray and left the kitchen to get the wine, but more so to avoid Ariadne.

Knowing Ariadne though, she'd be just as ready for this fight after closing time as she was right now when they were busy as hell.

He tried not to think about that, setting the drinks down on the table with his best plastered on smile. "All right then, what can I get for you lovely folks this evening?"

Arthur still wouldn't look up at Eames, and Eames for one was grateful. Still, he couldn't help but stare at the boy's parents.

His parents.

It was like a smack in the face along with a screaming, Hey, remember how that boy you're fucking is only sixteen?

Arthur looked like his mother. He grinned the same way as she did when drunk, and they had the same dark hair. His mother was a woman who clearly had been something special back in the day, but her beauty had faded with age, alcoholism, and loneliness.

Arthur's father was built somewhat like Eames, but he was so dressed up in his business suit that it'd be hard for anyone to notice. His nose sloped the same way as Arthur, the pupils of his eyes were just as dark, and they had the same ears. He also seemed to be the kind of guy Eames hated more than anyone else with his permanent frown and air of unwarranted importance, like it was a privilege for Eames to be serving him.

Eames wrote down their orders. Arthur's was a direct copy of his father's, like he couldn't think for himself when the man was around… Either that, or he just chose not to.

Everything surprisingly seemed to go off without a hitch from there, at least until he'd put the food on the table. Eames was checking up on one of his other tables when he noticed with horror as Arthur was smacked upside the back of his head by his father.

"Elbows off the table, Arthur," he said, voice emotionless. "You're not a barbarian."

"Sorry. Sir."

Eames nearly crushed the glass in his hand over it. Arthur ventured a glance in Eames's direction, and suddenly Eames's chest was filling up with regret, and he had to get away.

Two minutes later, Arthur found Eames smoking in the bathroom.

Eames said the only thing he could think of. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"My father brought me," Arthur replied. "It's not like I asked him to bring me here. I didn't even know where we were going. It was just a coincidence."

For some reason, Eames felt angry over it. He wanted it to be Arthur's fault. He didn't want to think that destiny or something was pulling them together. He didn't want any kind of mushy, gooey, romantic thoughts about this young boy in his brain because that meant things were much more fucked up than he thought.

He remembered then how he'd said the L-word to the sixteen year old hopelessly in love with him over the phone. Fuck.

"About earlier," Eames said slowly.

"It was an accident," Arthur replied, voice toneless as he unzipped his fly and started relieving himself in a urinal. "I know you didn't… mean it."

Eames didn't know what to say to that, but he felt terrible.

Arthur chuckled mirthlessly. "We all say things we don't mean. I'm not disappointed if that's what got you all worried. What we have… it's just… fucking and fooling around. There aren't really any feelings involved, right? I mean, that'd just be stupid."

Arthur washed his hands and left, waving.

He wasn't fooling Eames at all.

This is a little late, but I'm still pretty much obsessed with writing this. I haven't even gotten to the end and I already have a sequel planned. WHUT.