Inception - I've Got a Rock n' Roll Life (4/16)
Title: I've Got a Rock n' Roll Life (4/16)
Author: osaki_nana_707
Word count: 5,119
Pairings/Characters: ArthurxEames, Ariadne, Cobb, Mal
Rating: PG-13 (this part)
Warnings: language, smut, alcohol use, dub-con, Arthur being an asshole, leather pants, un-betaed
Summary: AU. Arthur is a concert violinist at a prestigious arts college. His best (and only) friend Ariadne convinces him to come with her to a rock concert, aka his worst nightmare. He does seem to be quite taken with the charismatic lead guitarist though... or rather, the guitarist seems to be quite taken by him.
Track Four: Tell Me When It's Time to Say I Love You
Eames rolled off of Arthur, tugging off his ruined boxer shorts and tossing them into a corner, all the while signaling to Arthur's clothes with his hands.
Arthur couldn't believe Eames expected him to be able to function enough to button anything in the current state he was, but he still made a conscious effort, fingers fumbling clumsily along the floor for what was his and trying to put it on the right way. Why the fuck had he dressed up so much?
He settled for diving into the bathroom and shutting the door when Eames opened the front door and peeked his head out.
"Hey, Cobb," Eames greeted. "What brings you here?"
"Saito told me you were staying in town," Cobb said. "What's that all about? You don't normally like sticking around because the paparazzi buzz around you like flies."
"I didn't have anywhere else to go," Eames shrugged, "and besides, they're going to buzz around me no matter where I go. They can't get up here anyway, so I'm not being bothered right now. Consider it laziness on my part, I suppose. Plus, I'm sick of traveling for the moment."
"Well, hey, do you want to go get some drinks or something? I went to a bar near here, but… well, someone recognized me, and I ended up having to leave. I can send someone to buy us some beers though."
"Don't act like you don't love every second of it when people ask you to sing a song for them or sign their tits," Eames chuckled, leaning against the doorframe. "I appreciate the offer, Cobb, really I do, but I can't drink that piss you Americans call beer. I think I'm just going to have a quiet night in, maybe rent a movie and sleep through it, you know."
"You're so domestic," Cobb chuckled, and Eames couldn't help but think that Cobb should smile more often. "What are you going to tell Rolling Stone when they ask you what you like to do for fun?"
"Hookers and coke," Eames replied and both of them laughed.
"Well, whatever," Cobb said. "I guess I'll just stay in too. I'll go get some wine and just-"
"Oh, I see how it is. You get beer with me, but you buy wine as soon as I back out. I see. You're right terrible, Cobb."
"Well, if I'm not drinking with a buddy, then I'm most certainly going to drink with a girl," Cobb replied, moving away from the door to make his way back down the hall. "It's a shame. I was going to introduce you."
"Perhaps some other time then," Eames said. "I'll bring a date and we'll make a night of it."
"You don't date," Cobb chuckled, not looking back as he waved goodbye. "If you show up with someone other than a porn star on your arm, I'll not only be surprised but I'll buy dinner for all of us."
"Don't challenge me, Cobb! I may just do it to spite you!"
"See you later, Eames," Cobb said, and the elevator doors shut on him.
Eames shut the door to his hotel room and strode back inside, humming a little. "Arthur? Where did you go?"
Arthur opened the bathroom door, in his shirt but not in his pants, flustered and agitated. "I didn't know you intended to keep me a secret from all your friends too," Arthur growled. "Is it that embarrassing to be seen with me?"
"What?" Eames chuckled until he realized that Arthur was serious. He watched while Arthur pulled his trousers up and buckled them, face contorted in anger and a little shame as well. "Arthur," Eames said, "I wasn't trying to hide you at all. I just figured you'd rather be clothed if Cobb was going to see you. When you didn't come over, I figured you didn't want to meet him, since you weren't all that fond of me either."
Arthur seemed to attempt to cling onto anger but eventually it leaked out of him. "Oh… I… I just assumed that-"
"You assumed that as a closeted homosexual I'd be ashamed of you?" Eames guessed.
"I… well, uh…"
"Ah, well," Eames said, bopping Arthur on the nose with his index finger, "that's what assuming does. It makes an ass out of 'u' and 'me'. No, no, Cobb knows I'm a poofter. I keep my sexuality out of the spotlight because I don't want the paparazzi buzzing around me anymore than they already do. I feel like it would cause too much unnecessary controversy. Believe it or not, I prefer to avoid the spotlight when I'm not performing."
"S-So you go to events with porn stars?" Arthur said, pouting a little. "That's you avoiding the spotlight?"
"Precisely," Eames said, shrugging out of his robe and tossing it into the corner with his soiled underwear, digging a fresh pair and a wife-beater out of his suitcase and throwing them on. "It's exactly what they expect me to do."
Arthur fumbled with the crooked buttons of his shirt. He hated that Eames had caught him yet again. "I don't see what the big deal is…" he grumbled. "People should… they should be able to like what they like. What goes on in the bedroom's none of anyone else's business…"
"If only more people would see it that way," Eames sighed, taking Arthur by the wrists and pulling him against him before they tumbled back into the bed. "Is this not the most bloody comfortable hotel bed you've ever laid in?"
"I can't go to sleep yet," Arthur complained, scrambling to roll off of Eames. "I need to pick a song and get to practicing. I want to be able to perform a solo at S.O.S."
"Oh, hold up now," Eames said, sitting up. "You didn't tell me you were performing at S.O.S."
"Oh… um… yeah. The orchestra at my school is going to be doing a couple of songs there, and some of the students are going to do solo performances. I'm… I'm hoping to get an invitation to the Chicago Symphonic Orchestra," Arthur said sheepishly, "and now that I've realized how much I suck, I've got to practice."
"You don't suck," Eames laughed, "but I can't stop you from practicing. I do hope you'll stay though."
"Well, I ah… I brought my music with me… but ah…" Arthur pulled the sheet music out from his case and handed it to Eames. "I don't know what to play."
"Well, which one's your favorite?" Eames asked, thumbing through it.
"I don't know," Arthur admitted. "I keep thinking that someone else is going to play the same song… and I keep thinking that there's no way I'll be memorable because I shut down when I play."
"Have you ever thought about playing something contemporary?" Eames asked, tossing the music onto the bed.
"I-well, I don't exactly… listen to much contemporary music."
"You should give it a whirl," Eames said, grabbing his guitar off the side of the bed. "I bet you could tear up some of that music, and a song with words can be easy to relate to when you're wondering what the meaning in everything is. I'm lending you some bloody CDs before you leave. See what you can do with this, and forgive me if I'm not much of a singer."
He started strumming, so Arthur picked up his violin.
He strummed a palm-muted chord until he was sure Arthur was ready and then started singing, "There's a fire starting in my heart, reaching a fever pitch and it's bringin' me out the dark… Finally, I can see you crystal clear; go ahead and sell me out and I'll lay your ship bare."
Arthur started hitting quick chords in beat with the song, nervous because he'd never really played anything contemporary before. He actually recognized the song as one of Ariadne's favorites to sing at karaoke. He'd had it memorized by the third time she'd sung it, even though he'd been drunk all three times.
"See how I leave with every piece of you. Don't underestimate the things that I will do. There's a fire starting in my heart, reaching a fever pitch and it's bringin' me out the dark…"
Eames was apparently being humble about his singing. Sure, he didn't sing quite like Cobb, but his voice was smoky and raw and appropriate for the song. It hit Arthur straight in his chest and straight in his groin, and he certainly wasn't having any problem feeling the song because of it.
Arthur started to take a couple of more chances in his playing, getting a little more showy because why the hell not? No one else was around to listen to him play. Eames certainly didn't mind showing off in his chord progressions, even if they weren't complicated.
"The scars of your love remind me of us, they keep me thinkin' that we almost had it all-"
And what the hell, Arthur joined in the singing, but surprisingly it shut Eames up at least for a moment, "The scars of your love, they leave me breathless, I can't help thinkin'…"
Arthur swung his bow down the strings with abandon and jumped onto the bed, and Eames jumped back in singing with him, taking a harmony part like Arthur was some sort of superstar, and Arthur couldn't help but feel amazing because of it.
"We could have had it all," Arthur sang.
"You're gonna wish you-never had met me-"
Oh, if only Ariadne could see him now. "Rolling in the deep…"
"Tears are gonna fall, rolling in the deep."
Seriously. He was not only singing and playing a pop song, but he was doing it in a hotel room with the barely clothed lead guitarist of her favorite band. "You had my heart inside of your hand…"
"You're gonna wish you-never had met me-"
"-and you played it-"
"Tears are gonna fall-"
"-to the beat…"
"Rolling in the deep…"
Arthur was probably acting like a fool, but he didn't care, wailing on his violin as he sang all on his own, "Baby, I have no story to be told, but I've heard one on you, and I'm gonna make your head burn! Think of me in the depths of your despair, and make a home down there 'cause mine sure won't be shared!"
"You're gonna wish you-"
"The scars of your love remind me of us-"
"-never had met me-"
"They keep me thinkin' that we almost had it all-"
"-You're gonna wish you-"
"The scars of your love, they leave me breathless-"
"-never had met me-"
"I can't help feelin'…"
Eames was on his feet now too, jumping up without missing a note, and Arthur stepped down off of the bed onto the floor with him, and they sang at each other in harmony (which Eames apparently came up with on his own), "We could have had it all… Rolling in the deep… You had my heart inside of your hand, and you played it to the beat… We could have had it all… Rolling in the deep… You had my heart inside of your hand, and you played it with the beating-"
The both of them dropped out completely, and Eames started beating on the front of his guitar while Arthur sang, "Throw your soul through every open door… Count your blessings to find what you look for… Turn my sorrow into treasured gold-"
Eames silenced the beating and sang out with Arthur in the silence of the room, "and pay me back in kind and reap just what you sow…"
Arthur started to play again, languid, dark notes that hit him straight at his core.
Eames sang, voice dripping with regret, "We could have had it all… we could have had it all…"
The beat picked up again, and Arthur went into a violin solo reminiscent of Eames's guitar solos at the concert, and he didn't care if he'd once looked down his nose at Eames for it… There was something fucking exhilarating about playing with such lack of restraint. Normally he would be a mess of nerves even being presented with the idea of baring himself to anyone, but with Eames it was just… it was just easy. Eames had already seen him physically bared, seen pieces of what lay underneath, and frankly Eames had challenged to show him more, so why shouldn't he give Eames what he wanted?
This wasn't going to last. In a few weeks, Eames would be gone. He was the only one who'd seen this side of Arthur, so he might as well get it out while he could.
"Yeah! That is fucking ace!" Eames shouted over Arthur's screaming top notes, still strumming a rhythm underneath it.
When Arthur finished his solo, they broke back into the chorus, practically shouting it at each other, and Arthur now knew why rock stars sang the way they did, "We could have had it all… Rolling in the deep… you had my heart inside of your hand, but you played it to the beat…"
"We could have had it all…" Arthur sang out.
"You're gonna wish you-never had met me-"
"Rolling in the deep…"
"Tears are gonna fall-rolling in the deep-"
"You had my heart inside of your hand, but you played it, you played it, you played it, you played it to the beat."
Just like that the song was over, and they were standing there staring at each other, breathing heavily. Hair had broken free from Arthur's coif, falling down in his eyes.
"Who knew you could sing like a bloody rock star?" Eames said, stunned. "That had to have been… the most… brill collaboration that I've ever been a part of. If you and I had done that on stage, the crowd would have been going fucking nuts… fucking nuts."
"I… I never knew that I had that in me," Arthur said, equally stunned. "Normally I freeze up when someone even asks me to sing, and I never-I never play like that."
"Bloody hell, if you play like that at S.O.S. you might not make it into the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, but you'd damn sure get a career out of that."
Arthur lowered the violin into its case, quietly saying, "but I want to play in an orchestra. I love playing the music I play… I've been practicing for years and I… I don't want all of that to go to waste."
"Love, you've got your problem solved if you can just play with that much soul. If you play with that much adoration for what you're doing, if you have that much fun with it, then you are set for life. You'll be the best bloody violinist in the whole goddamned world. Stop psyching yourself out and you'll be fine."
"…it's just that… I can't do that when I'm by myself or in front of anyone but you… You're…" Arthur swallowed, nervous to admit it, "You're the only one who's seen me this way."
Eames put down the guitar and tugged Arthur to him by his shirt. "Don't worry about it, pet. Just pretend I'm watching. At the S.O.S. show, I will be, all right?" he kissed him languidly and Arthur melted into it.
Oh, this was bad, Arthur thought. It was getting too easy for Eames to win him over with words and soft touches. He was just relieved that this wouldn't be able to keep happening…
…but…
What would he do then?
Arthur spent all Sunday alone in his apartment, practicing. He didn't focus on the music nearly as much as he usually did, instead imagining himself in front of a crowd and teaching himself not to freeze up under the pressure.
Even with Eames gone, he could still feel his eyes there, watching him, and it was eerily consoling.
For a while, he turned on Ariadne's favorite radio station and played along with the songs, teaching himself to improvise, and surprisingly he found himself enjoying several of the songs he heard. He had to stop, however, when one of Radical Notion's songs started to play and just listen and-
Fuck.
He liked Radical Notion.
Oh, Ariadne was going to have a field day with this one, he could fucking guarantee it.
It wasn't just because Eames was in the band either. Their songs were actually really good. The tunes were great, Cobb's voice was great, and they all seemed to be mentally connected to one another. Now that he was really listening to it, he could understand why Ariadne and so many other people liked them so much. Their music was on a level above most of the other songs on the radio.
He played Chopin's Nocturne in C Sharp Minor that evening and for the first time felt completely and utterly satisfied with it. He'd played it while watching himself in the mirror and was fascinated by the way his expression changed when he actually thought about something more than note values and measures. The piece became so much more than it had been, and he found himself falling in love with music all over again.
He decided on Nocturne as his choice audition piece and took it into class the very next day.
"Mal," Arthur said, catching her before French class began, "I was hoping you could tell me if I could um… play a solo at the benefit concert. I've been practicing a lot, and I wanted to show you my progress."
She sat on the desk, folding one of her long, delicate legs over the other and smiled. She seemed more pleased than usual, but Arthur didn't think too much about it. "Please do, Arthur. I do love it when you play.
Arthur nodded and set his music on her desk, put his violin to his jaw, and started to play.
He let himself dive into the heart of the song, let his fear and loneliness come spilling onto the strings, let Eames's kind words and soft touches worm their way out into the notes. With his eyes closed, he could see Eames sitting there on the bed, watching him, telling him how beautiful that person inside him was.
He could see Eames's blue-gray eyes with the flecks of green and gold.
He could feel Eames's hands underneath his clothing, brushing along his ribs and abdomen, down his thighs and up his arms, there to assure him that he wasn't so alone, and it was so relieving of a thought that he barely managed to refrain from bursting into tears.
It didn't matter that it was all lies, and he knew it had to be… if it made him play better, he would allow himself to believe it.
The song ended with the last soft, warbling note, and then he opened his eyes and let reality settle back in…
…only to realize that the entirety of the class had arrived while he'd been playing, and now everyone was staring at him.
Arthur swallowed nervously. "Um…" he said, voice caught in his throat.
"Oh, Arthur," Mal said, standing and putting both hands on his shoulders. "Arthur, that was beautiful. That was absolutely beautiful."
Did she seriously have tears in her eyes?
Arthur's heart swelled with pride. "Th-thank you…" he said, and then the class started applauding him.
That… had never happened before.
He'd played for Mal before class before and if any students came in, they usually gave him nasty looks. He wasn't exactly popular with the other students; they generally absolutely hated him (given, he hadn't necessarily been nice to them). At best, they'd had a grudging respect for him but usually thought his performances for Mal were him showing off, even if she'd asked him what he'd been teaching himself.
"Arthur," Ariadne said, coming to the front of her group of friends, "that was awesome. It's like you were a completely different person. You've never played like that before."
"I… well, thanks, I guess," Arthur said again, awkwardly.
"I felt like… every single note in my soul, or something. I almost cried, Arthur, like seriously," Ariadne explained. "That was so good, really. Play like that forever."
"I… o-okay…"
"Who have you been tutoring with?" Mal asked. "You're playing completely differently than you have been just a few days ago."
"Well, uh- I um," Arthur stammered, placing the violin back in its case. "I just started focusing on the performance aspect of it… I realized that… that no one's going to listen to me unless I play from my heart. I um… I guess I wanted people to love the music as much as I do, and… yeah… that's it…"
"I'm so proud of you," Mal said, touching his cheek tenderly. "It is very important to let people hear your heart. Your song was just wonderful, Arthur, really. Lovely job, Arthur, just lovely."
"Thank you," he said, and he smiled.
In fact, he wasn't really able to stop smiling for the entirety of class. People kept turning around and complimenting him on his performance, wishing him luck in the benefit concert, asking him if he could get them good seats… People were being nice to him. People liked him.
…and he had Eames to thank for that.
Eames joined Cobb for a drink at a house he'd never been to on that Monday evening.
"I didn't know you owned a house out here, Cobb," he said over the rim of his glass of wine.
"Well, technically I don't," Cobb replied as he paced the floor (as he often did when he was talking). "This is my wife's place."
"It's a little risky, don't you think?" Eames asked with a grin. "I mean, I know you've been married for a year now, but you said you didn't want the paparazzi bothering her and that's why you kept it a secret."
"I know that, and that's why I took extra precautions to make sure no one knew I was here. I'm hoping you did the same."
"Of course I did, Cobb, don't be daft. I hate those buggers bothering me too. Saito sent them off on a wild goose chase on my behalf."
"Good," Cobb said, finally sitting down at the kitchen table. "So, you'll finally get to meet my wife tonight, I suppose."
"Looking forward to it. If she's half the woman you say she is, I imagine she'll be like the bloody Madonna."
Cobb chuckled good-naturedly and nodded, "Well, she's too good for me, if that's what you're getting at."
"That's exactly what I'm getting at," Eames replied, setting down his wine glass and pulling his guitar out of the case. "Also, I've written a new piece. I figured you might like to put some words to it."
"All right," Cobb said. "What is it? You didn't tell me you were writing anything new."
"It's a love song. I wrote it last night, but you know how bloody awful I am at words."
"A love song? You said you hated writing love songs because it was too hard for you," Cobb said flatly.
"Yeah, well…" Eames said, smiling down at his guitar, "it got easier."
Cobb raised his eyebrows, wrinkling his forehead in the process. "Holy shit, are you trying to tell me that you're in love?"
"I don't know!" Eames scoffed. "I've got someone in my life though. I've got to tell you, Cobb, I don't think I've felt this way about someone before."
"When did you meet someone?" Cobb asked. "We were on tour, so when did you find the time-"
"Oh, um, I met him a couple of days ago, actually," Eames replied, and when Cobb's mouth fell open he quickly tacked on, "and I know what you're thinking. I know it sounds bonkers, but I mean… Okay, this is weird, but I met him, and he was absolutely this complete and utter tool, all right? He was insulting and rude to me, and he bloody hated me… Yeah, somehow that led to sex, but anyways, I started to get to know him after that, and it turns out-it turns out that he's a musician. He plays the violin, and he's real bloody good at it too. When he plays I see what he's really like, and he's actually become a lot nicer since he opened up to me. I think the whole attitude problem he had was a defense mechanism or something. He's smart, and he's fit, but he's extremely insecure, after all… He seems terrified to let anyone know who he really is, but I… I really like him."
"How can you know that much about a person after only a couple of days?" Cobb asked, clearly skeptical.
"He let me inside, Cobb. He doesn't do that with everyone, I assure you. It's like he's afraid of any sort of weakness and that's really sad, but he actually let me in and… well, yeah… Anyway, how dare you accuse me of not knowing what I'm talking about when you claim you fell in love with Mrs. Cobb at first sight?"
"I never accused you of anything. I was just concerned that you've already decided this much after only a couple of days. Keep talking like that and you'll scare him off, you know."
"I'm not going to bloody propose to him, fuck," Eames huffed, tuning his slightly flat B string. "I didn't even say I was in love with him, but I do really like him quite a lot. It's nice to meet someone in the world who's not trying to get my autograph or just gush about how great I am without any real tact to the conversation. It gets so bloody exhausting when I meet someone and all they have to say is that they listen to Radical Notion and never do anything else. I like having someone of quality to talk to besides the rest of the band. We can talk to one another about music, and he actually knows what he's talking about. We can talk about anything really. His name is Arthur."
"How did you even meet this guy?" Cobb asked, smiling and shaking his head in disbelief.
"Oh, he was vomiting into a trash bin after the concert the other night. His friend forced him to come see us, and things kind of got out of control. You know I never do anything halfway, but for the record he came onto me."
"Clearly… So, this is the guy, the ah… 'walking lawsuit' that Saito was mumbling about the other day."
"Yes," Eames replied, "most likely."
Cobb poured himself another glass of wine. "Well, all right then. Introduce me sometime. Let's hear the song."
Eames would always be friends with Cobb for that reason. He looked out for him, but at the same time he didn't try to control what he did. He gave advice only if offered, and he didn't question Eames's sanity whenever he said something crazy. It probably had a lot to do with the fact that Cobb was secretly crazy as well.
Eames started to play, and Cobb sat with his legs crossed, squinting until Eames finished it and then asked him to play it again, this time scribbling down some rough words onto a newspaper.
"This could be a really great song. We should get the guys back here and finish it so we can perform it at S.O.S. People always get excited about a new song."
"You've got to write it first, Cobb," Eames snickered.
"I'm working on it," Cobb said. "Play it again."
That was when the front door unlocked and in swept Mal Cobb, Dom Cobb's wife.
"Dom," she greeted, eyes lighting up the moment she saw him. "It never ceases to please me when I come home and you're here."
He took hold of her hand and pulled her down for a kiss. "This is Eames."
"Oh, of course I know who he is, Dom," she chuckled and pressed another kiss to his lips before turning and extending her hand. "Hello, I'm Mal."
"Nice to meet you," Eames said, shaking it. "You are lovelier than he says, and that is saying something, I promise you."
"Why thank you," she said, smiling. Her smile was absolutely radiant, and Eames couldn't help but think that Arthur would like her. Somehow, he just knew that. "I appreciate that you wore a shirt to my house."
"The leather trousers are strictly for the stage," Eames chuckled, sitting back in his chair. "They're bloody murder on my bollocks."
She laughed, and Eames was sure he very much liked her.
Eames and Cobb returned to working on their song while Mal busied herself with making tea for herself. When they hit a snag, she piped up, "Oh, Dom, you should have heard one of my students play this morning. It was the best rendition of Nocturne, Chopin's that is, that I've ever heard. He's brilliant."
"Oh, so you're a teacher?" Eames asked.
"Yes, I teach French, and I'm the assistant professor of music at the Cobol School of Arts down the road from here."
"…Oh," Eames said and went quiet enough that Cobb looked up from what he was doing to give him a look. Eames didn't look at him, but he could feel his eyes boring into the side of his head.
"I'm definitely going to recommend he play a solo performance at the S.O.S. benefit. He's just fantastic on the violin, really. Just brilliant. He's a real prodigy. His name is Arthur."
Cobb was definitely looking at Eames now, and Eames just smiled sheepishly at him.
Mal paused in cutting a slice of lemon for her tea. "What? Was it something I said?" she asked.
"Oh, um…" Eames said, and he was sure he was blushing up to his ears. "So anyway, I should probably go. I've got a lot of practicing to do, and you know I wouldn't want to overstate my welcome or anything…"
"Eames," Cobb said warningly.
"Oh, come on!" Eames complained, and he might have been pouting. "Just because he plays violin and is named Arthur and goes to the same school, that doesn't mean he's the same fucking person!"
"You know Arthur?" Mal asked.
Eames fell silent, shrinking under her gaze. "Ah… sort of…"
Eames feared that he was about to see Mal become a mother bear.
This could be bad…
Short chapter is short. I wanted to get this out before I had to go to work tonight though.
lol i'm not even surprised when my chapters get consistently shorter every time... chapters with smut are so much longer
Author: osaki_nana_707
Word count: 5,119
Pairings/Characters: ArthurxEames, Ariadne, Cobb, Mal
Rating: PG-13 (this part)
Warnings: language, smut, alcohol use, dub-con, Arthur being an asshole, leather pants, un-betaed
Summary: AU. Arthur is a concert violinist at a prestigious arts college. His best (and only) friend Ariadne convinces him to come with her to a rock concert, aka his worst nightmare. He does seem to be quite taken with the charismatic lead guitarist though... or rather, the guitarist seems to be quite taken by him.
Track Four: Tell Me When It's Time to Say I Love You
Eames rolled off of Arthur, tugging off his ruined boxer shorts and tossing them into a corner, all the while signaling to Arthur's clothes with his hands.
Arthur couldn't believe Eames expected him to be able to function enough to button anything in the current state he was, but he still made a conscious effort, fingers fumbling clumsily along the floor for what was his and trying to put it on the right way. Why the fuck had he dressed up so much?
He settled for diving into the bathroom and shutting the door when Eames opened the front door and peeked his head out.
"Hey, Cobb," Eames greeted. "What brings you here?"
"Saito told me you were staying in town," Cobb said. "What's that all about? You don't normally like sticking around because the paparazzi buzz around you like flies."
"I didn't have anywhere else to go," Eames shrugged, "and besides, they're going to buzz around me no matter where I go. They can't get up here anyway, so I'm not being bothered right now. Consider it laziness on my part, I suppose. Plus, I'm sick of traveling for the moment."
"Well, hey, do you want to go get some drinks or something? I went to a bar near here, but… well, someone recognized me, and I ended up having to leave. I can send someone to buy us some beers though."
"Don't act like you don't love every second of it when people ask you to sing a song for them or sign their tits," Eames chuckled, leaning against the doorframe. "I appreciate the offer, Cobb, really I do, but I can't drink that piss you Americans call beer. I think I'm just going to have a quiet night in, maybe rent a movie and sleep through it, you know."
"You're so domestic," Cobb chuckled, and Eames couldn't help but think that Cobb should smile more often. "What are you going to tell Rolling Stone when they ask you what you like to do for fun?"
"Hookers and coke," Eames replied and both of them laughed.
"Well, whatever," Cobb said. "I guess I'll just stay in too. I'll go get some wine and just-"
"Oh, I see how it is. You get beer with me, but you buy wine as soon as I back out. I see. You're right terrible, Cobb."
"Well, if I'm not drinking with a buddy, then I'm most certainly going to drink with a girl," Cobb replied, moving away from the door to make his way back down the hall. "It's a shame. I was going to introduce you."
"Perhaps some other time then," Eames said. "I'll bring a date and we'll make a night of it."
"You don't date," Cobb chuckled, not looking back as he waved goodbye. "If you show up with someone other than a porn star on your arm, I'll not only be surprised but I'll buy dinner for all of us."
"Don't challenge me, Cobb! I may just do it to spite you!"
"See you later, Eames," Cobb said, and the elevator doors shut on him.
Eames shut the door to his hotel room and strode back inside, humming a little. "Arthur? Where did you go?"
Arthur opened the bathroom door, in his shirt but not in his pants, flustered and agitated. "I didn't know you intended to keep me a secret from all your friends too," Arthur growled. "Is it that embarrassing to be seen with me?"
"What?" Eames chuckled until he realized that Arthur was serious. He watched while Arthur pulled his trousers up and buckled them, face contorted in anger and a little shame as well. "Arthur," Eames said, "I wasn't trying to hide you at all. I just figured you'd rather be clothed if Cobb was going to see you. When you didn't come over, I figured you didn't want to meet him, since you weren't all that fond of me either."
Arthur seemed to attempt to cling onto anger but eventually it leaked out of him. "Oh… I… I just assumed that-"
"You assumed that as a closeted homosexual I'd be ashamed of you?" Eames guessed.
"I… well, uh…"
"Ah, well," Eames said, bopping Arthur on the nose with his index finger, "that's what assuming does. It makes an ass out of 'u' and 'me'. No, no, Cobb knows I'm a poofter. I keep my sexuality out of the spotlight because I don't want the paparazzi buzzing around me anymore than they already do. I feel like it would cause too much unnecessary controversy. Believe it or not, I prefer to avoid the spotlight when I'm not performing."
"S-So you go to events with porn stars?" Arthur said, pouting a little. "That's you avoiding the spotlight?"
"Precisely," Eames said, shrugging out of his robe and tossing it into the corner with his soiled underwear, digging a fresh pair and a wife-beater out of his suitcase and throwing them on. "It's exactly what they expect me to do."
Arthur fumbled with the crooked buttons of his shirt. He hated that Eames had caught him yet again. "I don't see what the big deal is…" he grumbled. "People should… they should be able to like what they like. What goes on in the bedroom's none of anyone else's business…"
"If only more people would see it that way," Eames sighed, taking Arthur by the wrists and pulling him against him before they tumbled back into the bed. "Is this not the most bloody comfortable hotel bed you've ever laid in?"
"I can't go to sleep yet," Arthur complained, scrambling to roll off of Eames. "I need to pick a song and get to practicing. I want to be able to perform a solo at S.O.S."
"Oh, hold up now," Eames said, sitting up. "You didn't tell me you were performing at S.O.S."
"Oh… um… yeah. The orchestra at my school is going to be doing a couple of songs there, and some of the students are going to do solo performances. I'm… I'm hoping to get an invitation to the Chicago Symphonic Orchestra," Arthur said sheepishly, "and now that I've realized how much I suck, I've got to practice."
"You don't suck," Eames laughed, "but I can't stop you from practicing. I do hope you'll stay though."
"Well, I ah… I brought my music with me… but ah…" Arthur pulled the sheet music out from his case and handed it to Eames. "I don't know what to play."
"Well, which one's your favorite?" Eames asked, thumbing through it.
"I don't know," Arthur admitted. "I keep thinking that someone else is going to play the same song… and I keep thinking that there's no way I'll be memorable because I shut down when I play."
"Have you ever thought about playing something contemporary?" Eames asked, tossing the music onto the bed.
"I-well, I don't exactly… listen to much contemporary music."
"You should give it a whirl," Eames said, grabbing his guitar off the side of the bed. "I bet you could tear up some of that music, and a song with words can be easy to relate to when you're wondering what the meaning in everything is. I'm lending you some bloody CDs before you leave. See what you can do with this, and forgive me if I'm not much of a singer."
He started strumming, so Arthur picked up his violin.
He strummed a palm-muted chord until he was sure Arthur was ready and then started singing, "There's a fire starting in my heart, reaching a fever pitch and it's bringin' me out the dark… Finally, I can see you crystal clear; go ahead and sell me out and I'll lay your ship bare."
Arthur started hitting quick chords in beat with the song, nervous because he'd never really played anything contemporary before. He actually recognized the song as one of Ariadne's favorites to sing at karaoke. He'd had it memorized by the third time she'd sung it, even though he'd been drunk all three times.
"See how I leave with every piece of you. Don't underestimate the things that I will do. There's a fire starting in my heart, reaching a fever pitch and it's bringin' me out the dark…"
Eames was apparently being humble about his singing. Sure, he didn't sing quite like Cobb, but his voice was smoky and raw and appropriate for the song. It hit Arthur straight in his chest and straight in his groin, and he certainly wasn't having any problem feeling the song because of it.
Arthur started to take a couple of more chances in his playing, getting a little more showy because why the hell not? No one else was around to listen to him play. Eames certainly didn't mind showing off in his chord progressions, even if they weren't complicated.
"The scars of your love remind me of us, they keep me thinkin' that we almost had it all-"
And what the hell, Arthur joined in the singing, but surprisingly it shut Eames up at least for a moment, "The scars of your love, they leave me breathless, I can't help thinkin'…"
Arthur swung his bow down the strings with abandon and jumped onto the bed, and Eames jumped back in singing with him, taking a harmony part like Arthur was some sort of superstar, and Arthur couldn't help but feel amazing because of it.
"We could have had it all," Arthur sang.
"You're gonna wish you-never had met me-"
Oh, if only Ariadne could see him now. "Rolling in the deep…"
"Tears are gonna fall, rolling in the deep."
Seriously. He was not only singing and playing a pop song, but he was doing it in a hotel room with the barely clothed lead guitarist of her favorite band. "You had my heart inside of your hand…"
"You're gonna wish you-never had met me-"
"-and you played it-"
"Tears are gonna fall-"
"-to the beat…"
"Rolling in the deep…"
Arthur was probably acting like a fool, but he didn't care, wailing on his violin as he sang all on his own, "Baby, I have no story to be told, but I've heard one on you, and I'm gonna make your head burn! Think of me in the depths of your despair, and make a home down there 'cause mine sure won't be shared!"
"You're gonna wish you-"
"The scars of your love remind me of us-"
"-never had met me-"
"They keep me thinkin' that we almost had it all-"
"-You're gonna wish you-"
"The scars of your love, they leave me breathless-"
"-never had met me-"
"I can't help feelin'…"
Eames was on his feet now too, jumping up without missing a note, and Arthur stepped down off of the bed onto the floor with him, and they sang at each other in harmony (which Eames apparently came up with on his own), "We could have had it all… Rolling in the deep… You had my heart inside of your hand, and you played it to the beat… We could have had it all… Rolling in the deep… You had my heart inside of your hand, and you played it with the beating-"
The both of them dropped out completely, and Eames started beating on the front of his guitar while Arthur sang, "Throw your soul through every open door… Count your blessings to find what you look for… Turn my sorrow into treasured gold-"
Eames silenced the beating and sang out with Arthur in the silence of the room, "and pay me back in kind and reap just what you sow…"
Arthur started to play again, languid, dark notes that hit him straight at his core.
Eames sang, voice dripping with regret, "We could have had it all… we could have had it all…"
The beat picked up again, and Arthur went into a violin solo reminiscent of Eames's guitar solos at the concert, and he didn't care if he'd once looked down his nose at Eames for it… There was something fucking exhilarating about playing with such lack of restraint. Normally he would be a mess of nerves even being presented with the idea of baring himself to anyone, but with Eames it was just… it was just easy. Eames had already seen him physically bared, seen pieces of what lay underneath, and frankly Eames had challenged to show him more, so why shouldn't he give Eames what he wanted?
This wasn't going to last. In a few weeks, Eames would be gone. He was the only one who'd seen this side of Arthur, so he might as well get it out while he could.
"Yeah! That is fucking ace!" Eames shouted over Arthur's screaming top notes, still strumming a rhythm underneath it.
When Arthur finished his solo, they broke back into the chorus, practically shouting it at each other, and Arthur now knew why rock stars sang the way they did, "We could have had it all… Rolling in the deep… you had my heart inside of your hand, but you played it to the beat…"
"We could have had it all…" Arthur sang out.
"You're gonna wish you-never had met me-"
"Rolling in the deep…"
"Tears are gonna fall-rolling in the deep-"
"You had my heart inside of your hand, but you played it, you played it, you played it, you played it to the beat."
Just like that the song was over, and they were standing there staring at each other, breathing heavily. Hair had broken free from Arthur's coif, falling down in his eyes.
"Who knew you could sing like a bloody rock star?" Eames said, stunned. "That had to have been… the most… brill collaboration that I've ever been a part of. If you and I had done that on stage, the crowd would have been going fucking nuts… fucking nuts."
"I… I never knew that I had that in me," Arthur said, equally stunned. "Normally I freeze up when someone even asks me to sing, and I never-I never play like that."
"Bloody hell, if you play like that at S.O.S. you might not make it into the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, but you'd damn sure get a career out of that."
Arthur lowered the violin into its case, quietly saying, "but I want to play in an orchestra. I love playing the music I play… I've been practicing for years and I… I don't want all of that to go to waste."
"Love, you've got your problem solved if you can just play with that much soul. If you play with that much adoration for what you're doing, if you have that much fun with it, then you are set for life. You'll be the best bloody violinist in the whole goddamned world. Stop psyching yourself out and you'll be fine."
"…it's just that… I can't do that when I'm by myself or in front of anyone but you… You're…" Arthur swallowed, nervous to admit it, "You're the only one who's seen me this way."
Eames put down the guitar and tugged Arthur to him by his shirt. "Don't worry about it, pet. Just pretend I'm watching. At the S.O.S. show, I will be, all right?" he kissed him languidly and Arthur melted into it.
Oh, this was bad, Arthur thought. It was getting too easy for Eames to win him over with words and soft touches. He was just relieved that this wouldn't be able to keep happening…
…but…
What would he do then?
Arthur spent all Sunday alone in his apartment, practicing. He didn't focus on the music nearly as much as he usually did, instead imagining himself in front of a crowd and teaching himself not to freeze up under the pressure.
Even with Eames gone, he could still feel his eyes there, watching him, and it was eerily consoling.
For a while, he turned on Ariadne's favorite radio station and played along with the songs, teaching himself to improvise, and surprisingly he found himself enjoying several of the songs he heard. He had to stop, however, when one of Radical Notion's songs started to play and just listen and-
Fuck.
He liked Radical Notion.
Oh, Ariadne was going to have a field day with this one, he could fucking guarantee it.
It wasn't just because Eames was in the band either. Their songs were actually really good. The tunes were great, Cobb's voice was great, and they all seemed to be mentally connected to one another. Now that he was really listening to it, he could understand why Ariadne and so many other people liked them so much. Their music was on a level above most of the other songs on the radio.
He played Chopin's Nocturne in C Sharp Minor that evening and for the first time felt completely and utterly satisfied with it. He'd played it while watching himself in the mirror and was fascinated by the way his expression changed when he actually thought about something more than note values and measures. The piece became so much more than it had been, and he found himself falling in love with music all over again.
He decided on Nocturne as his choice audition piece and took it into class the very next day.
"Mal," Arthur said, catching her before French class began, "I was hoping you could tell me if I could um… play a solo at the benefit concert. I've been practicing a lot, and I wanted to show you my progress."
She sat on the desk, folding one of her long, delicate legs over the other and smiled. She seemed more pleased than usual, but Arthur didn't think too much about it. "Please do, Arthur. I do love it when you play.
Arthur nodded and set his music on her desk, put his violin to his jaw, and started to play.
He let himself dive into the heart of the song, let his fear and loneliness come spilling onto the strings, let Eames's kind words and soft touches worm their way out into the notes. With his eyes closed, he could see Eames sitting there on the bed, watching him, telling him how beautiful that person inside him was.
He could see Eames's blue-gray eyes with the flecks of green and gold.
He could feel Eames's hands underneath his clothing, brushing along his ribs and abdomen, down his thighs and up his arms, there to assure him that he wasn't so alone, and it was so relieving of a thought that he barely managed to refrain from bursting into tears.
It didn't matter that it was all lies, and he knew it had to be… if it made him play better, he would allow himself to believe it.
The song ended with the last soft, warbling note, and then he opened his eyes and let reality settle back in…
…only to realize that the entirety of the class had arrived while he'd been playing, and now everyone was staring at him.
Arthur swallowed nervously. "Um…" he said, voice caught in his throat.
"Oh, Arthur," Mal said, standing and putting both hands on his shoulders. "Arthur, that was beautiful. That was absolutely beautiful."
Did she seriously have tears in her eyes?
Arthur's heart swelled with pride. "Th-thank you…" he said, and then the class started applauding him.
That… had never happened before.
He'd played for Mal before class before and if any students came in, they usually gave him nasty looks. He wasn't exactly popular with the other students; they generally absolutely hated him (given, he hadn't necessarily been nice to them). At best, they'd had a grudging respect for him but usually thought his performances for Mal were him showing off, even if she'd asked him what he'd been teaching himself.
"Arthur," Ariadne said, coming to the front of her group of friends, "that was awesome. It's like you were a completely different person. You've never played like that before."
"I… well, thanks, I guess," Arthur said again, awkwardly.
"I felt like… every single note in my soul, or something. I almost cried, Arthur, like seriously," Ariadne explained. "That was so good, really. Play like that forever."
"I… o-okay…"
"Who have you been tutoring with?" Mal asked. "You're playing completely differently than you have been just a few days ago."
"Well, uh- I um," Arthur stammered, placing the violin back in its case. "I just started focusing on the performance aspect of it… I realized that… that no one's going to listen to me unless I play from my heart. I um… I guess I wanted people to love the music as much as I do, and… yeah… that's it…"
"I'm so proud of you," Mal said, touching his cheek tenderly. "It is very important to let people hear your heart. Your song was just wonderful, Arthur, really. Lovely job, Arthur, just lovely."
"Thank you," he said, and he smiled.
In fact, he wasn't really able to stop smiling for the entirety of class. People kept turning around and complimenting him on his performance, wishing him luck in the benefit concert, asking him if he could get them good seats… People were being nice to him. People liked him.
…and he had Eames to thank for that.
Eames joined Cobb for a drink at a house he'd never been to on that Monday evening.
"I didn't know you owned a house out here, Cobb," he said over the rim of his glass of wine.
"Well, technically I don't," Cobb replied as he paced the floor (as he often did when he was talking). "This is my wife's place."
"It's a little risky, don't you think?" Eames asked with a grin. "I mean, I know you've been married for a year now, but you said you didn't want the paparazzi bothering her and that's why you kept it a secret."
"I know that, and that's why I took extra precautions to make sure no one knew I was here. I'm hoping you did the same."
"Of course I did, Cobb, don't be daft. I hate those buggers bothering me too. Saito sent them off on a wild goose chase on my behalf."
"Good," Cobb said, finally sitting down at the kitchen table. "So, you'll finally get to meet my wife tonight, I suppose."
"Looking forward to it. If she's half the woman you say she is, I imagine she'll be like the bloody Madonna."
Cobb chuckled good-naturedly and nodded, "Well, she's too good for me, if that's what you're getting at."
"That's exactly what I'm getting at," Eames replied, setting down his wine glass and pulling his guitar out of the case. "Also, I've written a new piece. I figured you might like to put some words to it."
"All right," Cobb said. "What is it? You didn't tell me you were writing anything new."
"It's a love song. I wrote it last night, but you know how bloody awful I am at words."
"A love song? You said you hated writing love songs because it was too hard for you," Cobb said flatly.
"Yeah, well…" Eames said, smiling down at his guitar, "it got easier."
Cobb raised his eyebrows, wrinkling his forehead in the process. "Holy shit, are you trying to tell me that you're in love?"
"I don't know!" Eames scoffed. "I've got someone in my life though. I've got to tell you, Cobb, I don't think I've felt this way about someone before."
"When did you meet someone?" Cobb asked. "We were on tour, so when did you find the time-"
"Oh, um, I met him a couple of days ago, actually," Eames replied, and when Cobb's mouth fell open he quickly tacked on, "and I know what you're thinking. I know it sounds bonkers, but I mean… Okay, this is weird, but I met him, and he was absolutely this complete and utter tool, all right? He was insulting and rude to me, and he bloody hated me… Yeah, somehow that led to sex, but anyways, I started to get to know him after that, and it turns out-it turns out that he's a musician. He plays the violin, and he's real bloody good at it too. When he plays I see what he's really like, and he's actually become a lot nicer since he opened up to me. I think the whole attitude problem he had was a defense mechanism or something. He's smart, and he's fit, but he's extremely insecure, after all… He seems terrified to let anyone know who he really is, but I… I really like him."
"How can you know that much about a person after only a couple of days?" Cobb asked, clearly skeptical.
"He let me inside, Cobb. He doesn't do that with everyone, I assure you. It's like he's afraid of any sort of weakness and that's really sad, but he actually let me in and… well, yeah… Anyway, how dare you accuse me of not knowing what I'm talking about when you claim you fell in love with Mrs. Cobb at first sight?"
"I never accused you of anything. I was just concerned that you've already decided this much after only a couple of days. Keep talking like that and you'll scare him off, you know."
"I'm not going to bloody propose to him, fuck," Eames huffed, tuning his slightly flat B string. "I didn't even say I was in love with him, but I do really like him quite a lot. It's nice to meet someone in the world who's not trying to get my autograph or just gush about how great I am without any real tact to the conversation. It gets so bloody exhausting when I meet someone and all they have to say is that they listen to Radical Notion and never do anything else. I like having someone of quality to talk to besides the rest of the band. We can talk to one another about music, and he actually knows what he's talking about. We can talk about anything really. His name is Arthur."
"How did you even meet this guy?" Cobb asked, smiling and shaking his head in disbelief.
"Oh, he was vomiting into a trash bin after the concert the other night. His friend forced him to come see us, and things kind of got out of control. You know I never do anything halfway, but for the record he came onto me."
"Clearly… So, this is the guy, the ah… 'walking lawsuit' that Saito was mumbling about the other day."
"Yes," Eames replied, "most likely."
Cobb poured himself another glass of wine. "Well, all right then. Introduce me sometime. Let's hear the song."
Eames would always be friends with Cobb for that reason. He looked out for him, but at the same time he didn't try to control what he did. He gave advice only if offered, and he didn't question Eames's sanity whenever he said something crazy. It probably had a lot to do with the fact that Cobb was secretly crazy as well.
Eames started to play, and Cobb sat with his legs crossed, squinting until Eames finished it and then asked him to play it again, this time scribbling down some rough words onto a newspaper.
"This could be a really great song. We should get the guys back here and finish it so we can perform it at S.O.S. People always get excited about a new song."
"You've got to write it first, Cobb," Eames snickered.
"I'm working on it," Cobb said. "Play it again."
That was when the front door unlocked and in swept Mal Cobb, Dom Cobb's wife.
"Dom," she greeted, eyes lighting up the moment she saw him. "It never ceases to please me when I come home and you're here."
He took hold of her hand and pulled her down for a kiss. "This is Eames."
"Oh, of course I know who he is, Dom," she chuckled and pressed another kiss to his lips before turning and extending her hand. "Hello, I'm Mal."
"Nice to meet you," Eames said, shaking it. "You are lovelier than he says, and that is saying something, I promise you."
"Why thank you," she said, smiling. Her smile was absolutely radiant, and Eames couldn't help but think that Arthur would like her. Somehow, he just knew that. "I appreciate that you wore a shirt to my house."
"The leather trousers are strictly for the stage," Eames chuckled, sitting back in his chair. "They're bloody murder on my bollocks."
She laughed, and Eames was sure he very much liked her.
Eames and Cobb returned to working on their song while Mal busied herself with making tea for herself. When they hit a snag, she piped up, "Oh, Dom, you should have heard one of my students play this morning. It was the best rendition of Nocturne, Chopin's that is, that I've ever heard. He's brilliant."
"Oh, so you're a teacher?" Eames asked.
"Yes, I teach French, and I'm the assistant professor of music at the Cobol School of Arts down the road from here."
"…Oh," Eames said and went quiet enough that Cobb looked up from what he was doing to give him a look. Eames didn't look at him, but he could feel his eyes boring into the side of his head.
"I'm definitely going to recommend he play a solo performance at the S.O.S. benefit. He's just fantastic on the violin, really. Just brilliant. He's a real prodigy. His name is Arthur."
Cobb was definitely looking at Eames now, and Eames just smiled sheepishly at him.
Mal paused in cutting a slice of lemon for her tea. "What? Was it something I said?" she asked.
"Oh, um…" Eames said, and he was sure he was blushing up to his ears. "So anyway, I should probably go. I've got a lot of practicing to do, and you know I wouldn't want to overstate my welcome or anything…"
"Eames," Cobb said warningly.
"Oh, come on!" Eames complained, and he might have been pouting. "Just because he plays violin and is named Arthur and goes to the same school, that doesn't mean he's the same fucking person!"
"You know Arthur?" Mal asked.
Eames fell silent, shrinking under her gaze. "Ah… sort of…"
Eames feared that he was about to see Mal become a mother bear.
This could be bad…
Short chapter is short. I wanted to get this out before I had to go to work tonight though.
lol i'm not even surprised when my chapters get consistently shorter every time... chapters with smut are so much longer