Inception - Bite Hard (11/11)
Title: Bite Hard (part 11)
Author: osaki_nana_707
Word count: ~3,000
Pairings/Characters: ArthurxEames
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: language, age difference/underage, dub-con
Summary: AU. Sixteen year old Arthur wakes up in another man's apartment.
Part Eleven
Arthur adjusted the lens on his camera, aimed, and shot. The little click of the shutter scared the bird into flying away.
"Aw, fuck," Arthur mumbled, unfolding from his crouching position to his full height and blowing some strands of long hair out of his eyes before deciding it was best just shoved behind his ears.
"Baby," Arthur's mom said from the patio, laughing, "when you said you were going to come visit, I assumed you were at least going spend a little time with me."
Arthur turned, grinning sheepishly from his spot in her backyard. "Sorry, Mom, but you know how rare it is to see birds like that so close, especially in November." He kissed her cheek on the way back inside.
When Arthur had screamed at her five years ago, he had unknowingly started off a sequence of events that led to his mother quitting her drinking, quitting her fooling around, and quitting his father. Once they'd brought forth the evidence that they'd both been abused by the man, she not only won custody of Arthur but also half of his life savings. On the way out of the courthouse, Arthur had announced to his father that he was gay because the man couldn't do one damn thing about it.
Arthur and she moved into a modest little house across town, and he lived with her up until he went to college, renting out his own apartment closer to campus. He still came to visit her on the weekends, and during his school breaks he'd usually go down to the cabin with Cobb and Mal. The two had gotten married straight out of high school, and Arthur had taken their wedding photos.
He also had some astounding shots of them curled up around each other in a bed of white sheets, smiling like they were that happiest people on earth. He had them framed back at his place.
"So, when's your Christmas break?" Arthur's mom asked, pouring him a cup of coffee while he lit up a cigarette.
"Not soon enough," Arthur laughed, accepting the coffee gratefully and leaning back against the counter to smell it. "Cobb invited me down to the cabin, but I can make it back for Christmas Eve."
"Bringing anyone with you?" she asked, sipping nonchalantly at her coffee.
"Doubt it."
"Babe, you need a man in your life."
"I like my men the way I like my coffee, hot and black," Arthur teased, and his mother snorted into her cup.
He was so glad to have her in his life.
Still, all joking aside, he had to admit he was a little lonely. He'd had boyfriends, but they seldom lasted. He was usually too caught up in school to make much time for a relationship, too busy trying to maintain a 4.0 and get his degree in photojournalism… At least, that was what he told anyone who asked. Truth be told, there were just things that he immediately didn't like about Blake, or Scott, or Marshall. He could never get far in a relationship before he picked it apart and cut his ties.
He'd only had sex with one man.
In the end, Arthur couldn't help but think that his childish, sixteen-year-old self was still peeking through in that aspect, holding onto his firsts, not wanting to taint them with better or worse sex. The memories had already muddied a little with time, and he didn't want to further distort them until he couldn't remember what was what.
"Maybe I could come with you down to the cabin," Arthur's mom suggested, smiling mischievously, cheeks dimpling in the way he knew his did, "that is, unless you crazy kids want to get into some shenanigans without the parents around to call the police."
"Yeah, the kegger, crystal meth, and orgies would be a lot more awkward with you there, Ma," Arthur joked.
"Woo, sounds like a party!" She raised her hands up in a mock fashion of raising the roof.
Arthur shook his head at her, chuckling. "If you want to come, you can. I can come pick you up, and we can drive down there together. It's really beautiful when it's covered in snow."
"I suppose I'll be driving then so you can take pictures. You nearly swerved off the road last time-"
"I will not take pictures and drive at the same time anymore," Arthur swore, lifting his hand in a boy scout's fashion before coming to take a seat next to his mother at the kitchen table. He sighed, leaning his head against her shoulder, and she combed her fingers into his hair.
"You hair's getting so long," she said, resting her hand in it at the bottom of his neck. "You should keep it like this. It's very becoming of you."
Arthur had made the conscious effort to grow his hair long in order to avoid looking anymore like his father than he already did. Over the years his features had become sharper, and he feared soon he would have frown lines. He'd been teased by Cobb about it in the past whenever he'd go too far to avoid it and show up to high-class events in flip-flops. Arthur generally stuck to tight jeans and sweaters, occasionally in his horn-rimmed glasses (this was getting more often as his vision progressively worsened).
"I should probably head back, get some homework done before class starts back tomorrow. I haven't finished that writing assignment yet."
"Oh, honey, you told me that's not due until next week. You don't have to overachieve all the time, you know," she teased, standing in time with him and leading him down the hall to the front door. "You know if you ever need a break, you can always come here. You've got a room."
"I know," Arthur replied, leaning in to peck her on the lips. "I'll call you when I get home to let you know I made it."
"Wear your glasses so you can read the signs."
"Yes, ma'am."
He pulled his jacket tightly over his chest as he made the short jog to his car, a forest-green Kia with a crack in the windshield. The wind was already biting cold and hinting at snow, and he wondered if a sudden blizzard would keep him out of class. He actually liked his classes and his classmates, but he would have enjoyed the day at home, comforted by the baby blue walls of his apartment and his cups of coffee.
As he started the car, the radio already playing Christmas songs, he thought of how nice it would have been for his bed to have been occupied by another warm body, the only one in particular that he was familiar with…
Sometimes it was nice to look back on the past and reminisce, even if it did make him feel a little sad. He thought fondly on the framed drawing in his bedroom. If one were to pull the back out of the frame, they would find Arthur's only picture of Eames, his blurry, dark profile in the darkness of Yusuf's car.
When he got back into the city, he pulled into a Starbucks parking lot, dialed his mom to let her know he made it back to civilization without issue and then slipped inside for another hot cup of coffee to last him the rest of the way home.
Eames didn't recognize him at first.
When he'd walked into the Starbucks, Eames was curled up in one of their overly plush chairs, drawing the other patrons in his sketchbook and warding off the cold with hot tea that wasn't nearly good enough for how much it cost. He'd merely noticed that when he walked in, he was quite the attractive young man.
He had smirked and started forming his profile on the bottom of a page while the boy waited in line, bouncing on his heels.
It wasn't a sudden discovery so much as it was a slow revealing, like the removal of clothing. There was the familiar slope of the nose and the soft pink in the lips. His jaw was more defined but still shaped the same way, and the ears were slightly flushed from the cold, partially hidden by wavy curls of hair.
When Eames realized why it was familiar, he didn't start or exclaim. Truthfully, he just sat there a bit dumbfounded, trying to remember how long it had been. Five-ish years.
Five.
…and yet, he still was just as beautiful, if not more so.
Arthur.
The name still tasted sweet on the tip of his tongue…
…and he figured saying hello wouldn't hurt.
Arthur sipped at the coffee, smiling contentedly as it warmed down his throat, and Eames melted at the sight of that smile, at that flash of dimples, and oh, it was all coming back to him now.
Arthur didn't even notice at first when Eames took a seat across from him at the cramped little table. He dropped his sketchbook on the table and Arthur's coffee nearly tipped, the noise startling him.
"Careful there," Eames said, leaning his cheek onto his fist.
Arthur blinked a couple of times, rapidly in succession and then settled a stare at Eames, lips just slightly parted, like he no longer knew how to drop his jaw.
Eames grinned a little. "Are you old enough to be in here?"
Arthur responded, cracking a smile back, "I'm twenty-one."
"I don't believe you."
There was a long moment of companionable silence between them while they chuckled silently.
"What on earth are you doing here, Arthur?" Eames asked.
Arthur sipped at his coffee, letting the warmth melt into his eyes when he realized Eames still said his name the same way he used to. "I go to school here, the college around the corner."
"College? Jesus, it really has been five years, hasn't it," Eames said, mildly astonished. "Time sure does fly, doesn't it."
"It sure does," Arthur agreed, looking down into his coffee, smiling softly. "I'm a Junior now. Let that wash over you for a minute."
Eames sighed through his nose, obviously doing so. "Fuck, I must be old now," Eames said.
"You're twenty-seven. That's not old."
"I appreciate that," Eames laughed, running a hand over his buzzed hair before dropping it to the table, fingers just a centimeter from Arthur's.
"So, what are you doing here, Eames?"
Eames shrugged, staring at Arthur's long, bony fingers on the table. "I was trying to sell some paintings. They didn't sell."
"That's too bad."
"It happens."
There was a long moment of silence, this time less companionable.
"You're thinner than I remember," Arthur said.
"You're taller," Eames replied, raising his eyebrows to make his forehead wrinkle. "Time makes fools of us all, darling."
Eames's hand slipped to Arthur's, just grazing his fingertips along the tops of the other's knuckles. Arthur watched him do it, a familiar little twinkle in his eye that Eames recognized almost instantly. This Arthur that was so different on the outside still had that youthful glint hidden there. It hadn't been robbed from him. If anything, it glimmered more brightly than before.
"Wow, look at you," Eames marveled hazily, "you're even more beautiful than I remember."
Arthur looked into Eames's eyes at that, blushing sheepishly and throwing on a pouting little frown.
"Does it sound like a line now that you're not so young and impressionable?" Eames laughed.
"Actually," Arthur replied quietly, "I was just thinking that it doesn't sound like a line when you say it."
Eames wrapped his fingers around Arthur's palm and squeezed it. "I missed you," he admitted.
"I missed you too," Arthur said, lacing his fingers into Eames's, staring down at the tabletop and at their hands. "I thought about you a lot over the years. I still do." He quirked an eyebrow when he noticed through his lashes as Eames lifted a corner of his lips into a smirk. "Not just those thoughts, you fucking pervert… Sometimes, I'd just…" his thumb rubbed against the side of Eames's index finger while he used his other hand to awkwardly adjust his glasses. "Sometimes, I'd just think about how you'd bite down on your tongue when you were working on a sketch, or the way your eyes have a little bit of green in them, or… you know… the way you'd sound when you'd talk to me."
"Careful, Arthur, you might touch my heart," Eames tried to tease, but he sounded just a little too sincere. It had slipped back into his intonation so easily that he was left a little dumbstruck.
Arthur swallowed, pulling his hand away in embarrassment to grab his coffee with both hands and put it to his mouth. "So, are you still hanging out with Yusuf? How has he been?"
Eames snorted, grinning, and drained the rest of his tea. "Yusuf's been around on occasion, but he's got this girlfriend, Uma, gathering all of his current attention. I lived with him for a while, but that didn't work out as I quickly discovered I was allergic to cats. I think Uma might be the one for him… Oh, bugger, how depressing, I'll never see him again!"
Arthur laughed. "I still see Cobb, and he's married."
"Young people get married too quick nowadays," Eames said, shaking his head.
"He and Mal will make it," Arthur replied, smiling warmly. "I took some really beautiful shots of them."
"So you still do photography?"
Arthur nodded. "I'm studying to become a photojournalist, actually. My photography's won a couple of local awards here and there. I got a hundred dollars from the literary magazine art contest at school too."
"I knew you had a knack for it," Eames said.
Arthur looked away from him, and Eames wondered if maybe Arthur had noticed something familiar in his eyes as well.
"About what happened five years ago…" Eames started in again, and Arthur stared with an unreadable expression. "Do you regret it?"
"The beginning or the end?" Arthur asked.
Eames paused, thinning his lips while he thought about it, and then decided on, "Both, all of it."
"Yes and no," Arthur replied, placing his cup down gently, "not… necessarily in that order."
"You darling little liar."
"There are plenty of things I regret about it!" Arthur huffed. "It's not a lie… I regret the fight, and I regret that I was pretty much molested by my principal, and I regret that I lied to you in the first place, and I…"
"You still regret ending it," Eames finished.
"Sometimes," Arthur confessed, "but… it was for the best. It was too messy, too complicated. I needed to get out in the world and live my life. I couldn't spend an eternity holed up in your apartment, entangled in your limbs."
"That doesn't sound like such a bad eternity."
"I wanted to know who I was, and I think I will someday. I feel like I'm learning something new about myself all the time."
"That is generally how it works, yes," Eames nodded. "You never stop learning." He lifted Arthur's hand from the table and pressed it to his lips, not kissing but letting it linger there. "Tell me," he said against the skin, "what exactly are you learning from this bizarre little happenstance, hm?"
Arthur opened his mouth and closed it. Blinked. Yanked his hand away.
"I'm learning you're just a forward as you always were."
"I believe you were the one who came onto me," Eames responded innocently.
"True…"
"I just wanted to touch you," Eames replied. "You know how fond I always was of your hands. You should stop biting your nails though."
"Finals are coming up. I'll be fine after that…" Arthur mumbled, tucking a stray tuft of hair behind his ear in embarrassment. It fell right back into place as soon as he let go of it. "No, you're right, I should stop that… I'm sorry-"
"You're doing it again, darling."
It took Arthur a moment to realize exactly what he meant by that.
"Oh, fuck it," Arthur said, standing from his chair to lean over the table and delete the distance between them in a kiss.
When Arthur pulled away, Eames smiled against his lips and said, "You kiss like an amateur."
Arthur sighed a little and said, "I'll keep practicing… Thomas."
"Please, call me Eames."
(You don't know I sing these songs about you, you don't know the pseudonyms I assume...
for you.)
And that's the end boys and girls (mostly girls, I'm assuming)... OR IS IT??? It's the end of this story anyway, but I'll be getting started on the sequel eventually, so don't worry. ;)
Author: osaki_nana_707
Word count: ~3,000
Pairings/Characters: ArthurxEames
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: language, age difference/underage, dub-con
Summary: AU. Sixteen year old Arthur wakes up in another man's apartment.
Part Eleven
Arthur adjusted the lens on his camera, aimed, and shot. The little click of the shutter scared the bird into flying away.
"Aw, fuck," Arthur mumbled, unfolding from his crouching position to his full height and blowing some strands of long hair out of his eyes before deciding it was best just shoved behind his ears.
"Baby," Arthur's mom said from the patio, laughing, "when you said you were going to come visit, I assumed you were at least going spend a little time with me."
Arthur turned, grinning sheepishly from his spot in her backyard. "Sorry, Mom, but you know how rare it is to see birds like that so close, especially in November." He kissed her cheek on the way back inside.
When Arthur had screamed at her five years ago, he had unknowingly started off a sequence of events that led to his mother quitting her drinking, quitting her fooling around, and quitting his father. Once they'd brought forth the evidence that they'd both been abused by the man, she not only won custody of Arthur but also half of his life savings. On the way out of the courthouse, Arthur had announced to his father that he was gay because the man couldn't do one damn thing about it.
Arthur and she moved into a modest little house across town, and he lived with her up until he went to college, renting out his own apartment closer to campus. He still came to visit her on the weekends, and during his school breaks he'd usually go down to the cabin with Cobb and Mal. The two had gotten married straight out of high school, and Arthur had taken their wedding photos.
He also had some astounding shots of them curled up around each other in a bed of white sheets, smiling like they were that happiest people on earth. He had them framed back at his place.
"So, when's your Christmas break?" Arthur's mom asked, pouring him a cup of coffee while he lit up a cigarette.
"Not soon enough," Arthur laughed, accepting the coffee gratefully and leaning back against the counter to smell it. "Cobb invited me down to the cabin, but I can make it back for Christmas Eve."
"Bringing anyone with you?" she asked, sipping nonchalantly at her coffee.
"Doubt it."
"Babe, you need a man in your life."
"I like my men the way I like my coffee, hot and black," Arthur teased, and his mother snorted into her cup.
He was so glad to have her in his life.
Still, all joking aside, he had to admit he was a little lonely. He'd had boyfriends, but they seldom lasted. He was usually too caught up in school to make much time for a relationship, too busy trying to maintain a 4.0 and get his degree in photojournalism… At least, that was what he told anyone who asked. Truth be told, there were just things that he immediately didn't like about Blake, or Scott, or Marshall. He could never get far in a relationship before he picked it apart and cut his ties.
He'd only had sex with one man.
In the end, Arthur couldn't help but think that his childish, sixteen-year-old self was still peeking through in that aspect, holding onto his firsts, not wanting to taint them with better or worse sex. The memories had already muddied a little with time, and he didn't want to further distort them until he couldn't remember what was what.
"Maybe I could come with you down to the cabin," Arthur's mom suggested, smiling mischievously, cheeks dimpling in the way he knew his did, "that is, unless you crazy kids want to get into some shenanigans without the parents around to call the police."
"Yeah, the kegger, crystal meth, and orgies would be a lot more awkward with you there, Ma," Arthur joked.
"Woo, sounds like a party!" She raised her hands up in a mock fashion of raising the roof.
Arthur shook his head at her, chuckling. "If you want to come, you can. I can come pick you up, and we can drive down there together. It's really beautiful when it's covered in snow."
"I suppose I'll be driving then so you can take pictures. You nearly swerved off the road last time-"
"I will not take pictures and drive at the same time anymore," Arthur swore, lifting his hand in a boy scout's fashion before coming to take a seat next to his mother at the kitchen table. He sighed, leaning his head against her shoulder, and she combed her fingers into his hair.
"You hair's getting so long," she said, resting her hand in it at the bottom of his neck. "You should keep it like this. It's very becoming of you."
Arthur had made the conscious effort to grow his hair long in order to avoid looking anymore like his father than he already did. Over the years his features had become sharper, and he feared soon he would have frown lines. He'd been teased by Cobb about it in the past whenever he'd go too far to avoid it and show up to high-class events in flip-flops. Arthur generally stuck to tight jeans and sweaters, occasionally in his horn-rimmed glasses (this was getting more often as his vision progressively worsened).
"I should probably head back, get some homework done before class starts back tomorrow. I haven't finished that writing assignment yet."
"Oh, honey, you told me that's not due until next week. You don't have to overachieve all the time, you know," she teased, standing in time with him and leading him down the hall to the front door. "You know if you ever need a break, you can always come here. You've got a room."
"I know," Arthur replied, leaning in to peck her on the lips. "I'll call you when I get home to let you know I made it."
"Wear your glasses so you can read the signs."
"Yes, ma'am."
He pulled his jacket tightly over his chest as he made the short jog to his car, a forest-green Kia with a crack in the windshield. The wind was already biting cold and hinting at snow, and he wondered if a sudden blizzard would keep him out of class. He actually liked his classes and his classmates, but he would have enjoyed the day at home, comforted by the baby blue walls of his apartment and his cups of coffee.
As he started the car, the radio already playing Christmas songs, he thought of how nice it would have been for his bed to have been occupied by another warm body, the only one in particular that he was familiar with…
Sometimes it was nice to look back on the past and reminisce, even if it did make him feel a little sad. He thought fondly on the framed drawing in his bedroom. If one were to pull the back out of the frame, they would find Arthur's only picture of Eames, his blurry, dark profile in the darkness of Yusuf's car.
When he got back into the city, he pulled into a Starbucks parking lot, dialed his mom to let her know he made it back to civilization without issue and then slipped inside for another hot cup of coffee to last him the rest of the way home.
Eames didn't recognize him at first.
When he'd walked into the Starbucks, Eames was curled up in one of their overly plush chairs, drawing the other patrons in his sketchbook and warding off the cold with hot tea that wasn't nearly good enough for how much it cost. He'd merely noticed that when he walked in, he was quite the attractive young man.
He had smirked and started forming his profile on the bottom of a page while the boy waited in line, bouncing on his heels.
It wasn't a sudden discovery so much as it was a slow revealing, like the removal of clothing. There was the familiar slope of the nose and the soft pink in the lips. His jaw was more defined but still shaped the same way, and the ears were slightly flushed from the cold, partially hidden by wavy curls of hair.
When Eames realized why it was familiar, he didn't start or exclaim. Truthfully, he just sat there a bit dumbfounded, trying to remember how long it had been. Five-ish years.
Five.
…and yet, he still was just as beautiful, if not more so.
Arthur.
The name still tasted sweet on the tip of his tongue…
…and he figured saying hello wouldn't hurt.
Arthur sipped at the coffee, smiling contentedly as it warmed down his throat, and Eames melted at the sight of that smile, at that flash of dimples, and oh, it was all coming back to him now.
Arthur didn't even notice at first when Eames took a seat across from him at the cramped little table. He dropped his sketchbook on the table and Arthur's coffee nearly tipped, the noise startling him.
"Careful there," Eames said, leaning his cheek onto his fist.
Arthur blinked a couple of times, rapidly in succession and then settled a stare at Eames, lips just slightly parted, like he no longer knew how to drop his jaw.
Eames grinned a little. "Are you old enough to be in here?"
Arthur responded, cracking a smile back, "I'm twenty-one."
"I don't believe you."
There was a long moment of companionable silence between them while they chuckled silently.
"What on earth are you doing here, Arthur?" Eames asked.
Arthur sipped at his coffee, letting the warmth melt into his eyes when he realized Eames still said his name the same way he used to. "I go to school here, the college around the corner."
"College? Jesus, it really has been five years, hasn't it," Eames said, mildly astonished. "Time sure does fly, doesn't it."
"It sure does," Arthur agreed, looking down into his coffee, smiling softly. "I'm a Junior now. Let that wash over you for a minute."
Eames sighed through his nose, obviously doing so. "Fuck, I must be old now," Eames said.
"You're twenty-seven. That's not old."
"I appreciate that," Eames laughed, running a hand over his buzzed hair before dropping it to the table, fingers just a centimeter from Arthur's.
"So, what are you doing here, Eames?"
Eames shrugged, staring at Arthur's long, bony fingers on the table. "I was trying to sell some paintings. They didn't sell."
"That's too bad."
"It happens."
There was a long moment of silence, this time less companionable.
"You're thinner than I remember," Arthur said.
"You're taller," Eames replied, raising his eyebrows to make his forehead wrinkle. "Time makes fools of us all, darling."
Eames's hand slipped to Arthur's, just grazing his fingertips along the tops of the other's knuckles. Arthur watched him do it, a familiar little twinkle in his eye that Eames recognized almost instantly. This Arthur that was so different on the outside still had that youthful glint hidden there. It hadn't been robbed from him. If anything, it glimmered more brightly than before.
"Wow, look at you," Eames marveled hazily, "you're even more beautiful than I remember."
Arthur looked into Eames's eyes at that, blushing sheepishly and throwing on a pouting little frown.
"Does it sound like a line now that you're not so young and impressionable?" Eames laughed.
"Actually," Arthur replied quietly, "I was just thinking that it doesn't sound like a line when you say it."
Eames wrapped his fingers around Arthur's palm and squeezed it. "I missed you," he admitted.
"I missed you too," Arthur said, lacing his fingers into Eames's, staring down at the tabletop and at their hands. "I thought about you a lot over the years. I still do." He quirked an eyebrow when he noticed through his lashes as Eames lifted a corner of his lips into a smirk. "Not just those thoughts, you fucking pervert… Sometimes, I'd just…" his thumb rubbed against the side of Eames's index finger while he used his other hand to awkwardly adjust his glasses. "Sometimes, I'd just think about how you'd bite down on your tongue when you were working on a sketch, or the way your eyes have a little bit of green in them, or… you know… the way you'd sound when you'd talk to me."
"Careful, Arthur, you might touch my heart," Eames tried to tease, but he sounded just a little too sincere. It had slipped back into his intonation so easily that he was left a little dumbstruck.
Arthur swallowed, pulling his hand away in embarrassment to grab his coffee with both hands and put it to his mouth. "So, are you still hanging out with Yusuf? How has he been?"
Eames snorted, grinning, and drained the rest of his tea. "Yusuf's been around on occasion, but he's got this girlfriend, Uma, gathering all of his current attention. I lived with him for a while, but that didn't work out as I quickly discovered I was allergic to cats. I think Uma might be the one for him… Oh, bugger, how depressing, I'll never see him again!"
Arthur laughed. "I still see Cobb, and he's married."
"Young people get married too quick nowadays," Eames said, shaking his head.
"He and Mal will make it," Arthur replied, smiling warmly. "I took some really beautiful shots of them."
"So you still do photography?"
Arthur nodded. "I'm studying to become a photojournalist, actually. My photography's won a couple of local awards here and there. I got a hundred dollars from the literary magazine art contest at school too."
"I knew you had a knack for it," Eames said.
Arthur looked away from him, and Eames wondered if maybe Arthur had noticed something familiar in his eyes as well.
"About what happened five years ago…" Eames started in again, and Arthur stared with an unreadable expression. "Do you regret it?"
"The beginning or the end?" Arthur asked.
Eames paused, thinning his lips while he thought about it, and then decided on, "Both, all of it."
"Yes and no," Arthur replied, placing his cup down gently, "not… necessarily in that order."
"You darling little liar."
"There are plenty of things I regret about it!" Arthur huffed. "It's not a lie… I regret the fight, and I regret that I was pretty much molested by my principal, and I regret that I lied to you in the first place, and I…"
"You still regret ending it," Eames finished.
"Sometimes," Arthur confessed, "but… it was for the best. It was too messy, too complicated. I needed to get out in the world and live my life. I couldn't spend an eternity holed up in your apartment, entangled in your limbs."
"That doesn't sound like such a bad eternity."
"I wanted to know who I was, and I think I will someday. I feel like I'm learning something new about myself all the time."
"That is generally how it works, yes," Eames nodded. "You never stop learning." He lifted Arthur's hand from the table and pressed it to his lips, not kissing but letting it linger there. "Tell me," he said against the skin, "what exactly are you learning from this bizarre little happenstance, hm?"
Arthur opened his mouth and closed it. Blinked. Yanked his hand away.
"I'm learning you're just a forward as you always were."
"I believe you were the one who came onto me," Eames responded innocently.
"True…"
"I just wanted to touch you," Eames replied. "You know how fond I always was of your hands. You should stop biting your nails though."
"Finals are coming up. I'll be fine after that…" Arthur mumbled, tucking a stray tuft of hair behind his ear in embarrassment. It fell right back into place as soon as he let go of it. "No, you're right, I should stop that… I'm sorry-"
"You're doing it again, darling."
It took Arthur a moment to realize exactly what he meant by that.
"Oh, fuck it," Arthur said, standing from his chair to lean over the table and delete the distance between them in a kiss.
When Arthur pulled away, Eames smiled against his lips and said, "You kiss like an amateur."
Arthur sighed a little and said, "I'll keep practicing… Thomas."
"Please, call me Eames."
(You don't know I sing these songs about you, you don't know the pseudonyms I assume...
for you.)
And that's the end boys and girls (mostly girls, I'm assuming)... OR IS IT??? It's the end of this story anyway, but I'll be getting started on the sequel eventually, so don't worry. ;)