Inception - I've Got a Rock n' Roll Life (5/16)
Title: I've Got a Rock n' Roll Life (5/16)
Author: osaki_nana_707
Word count: 5,020
Pairings/Characters: ArthurxEames, Ariadne, Cobb, Mal
Rating: R(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 Five: I Started Something I Couldn't Finish
Eames was forced to explain himself, though he certainly condensed the story and cut out anything he would deem worthy of murder by the woman near the cutlery. He avoided as much of the sex as possible, but really, there wasn't much else he could talk about considering that was mostly what they did when they were together. Oddly enough, she didn't seem to be boiling over with rage, only confused, but Eames wasn't going to allow himself to be fooled. Women could go from zero to bitch in less than a second, and her fury could very well have been well hidden. His girl friends back in school had been able to hide their anger quite effectively and then commit the most heinous revenge imaginable, all with a smile on their face, and the other girl (or boy) would never even know what hit them.
That was why he made sure to reiterate several times that Arthur made the first move and that he really, really liked him a lot. He could not stress that enough.
When he was finished, Mal opened her mouth, closed it, paused, and then said, "Now… this is Arthur we're talking about? Thin, slicked back hair, three-piece suit Arthur? Violin playing, brown-eyed, full-ride-scholarship Arthur?"
"That's him," Eames said. "He's a pistol, most definitely, but I quite like him."
"So…" Mal said, coming around the counter with her cup of tea poised in her hands, and surprisingly she was smiling, "It must have been you that caused this change in him."
"Change?" Eames asked, smiling unsurely. He was sure the conversation could go one way or another, and he wasn't about to set himself up if it was going to tumble down a bad road. Her pretty little grin could mean that she was prepared to exact her revenge on him, after all.
"Yes… he's not so-so distant," Mal said, taking a seat. "Arthur, the dear boy, he's very intelligent and very talented, but he's had quite a cold shoulder since the day I met him. It took me a long time to get him to talk to me at all, and he was still very hesitant to reveal anything about himself. He has a way of diverting the conversation to other things, and he's often so angry.
"Today though… Today he was different. I could see it in the way that he played. There was something… tangible there. Does that make sense?"
Eames's smile broadened a little because he did understand. He'd witnessed the less defensive Arthur, and the boy had gone and taken Eames's words of encouragement as a challenge. He'd decided to loosen his own reins a little, and apparently it was yielding some positive results (as Eames had expected). The boy really was a damned fast learner. He would punch anyone who thought he was just cocky.
"I didn't really do that much," Eames shrugged, playing with the strings on his guitar. "I just gave him someone to listen to I guess. Maybe he felt safe telling me things because he hadn't already built any kind of ah-kind of…"
"Relationship?" Cobb guessed.
"Ah-camaraderie," Eames corrected, embarrassed. He wasn't about to go speaking on Arthur's behalf since he didn't know for sure what was going on in the boy's head. "He hadn't built any kind of camaraderie with me, so there was no danger in destroying an already cherished friendship or anything, but at the same time, he already knew me quite well, and ah… Oh, bloody fuck, I'm not making any sense at all, am I?"
"Well, whatever you did, I'm certainly happy that you did it," Mal said, sipping at her tea. "I was worried about him for a while. Every week he'd be more hunched and closed off and wary. I was worried he might come in with a pistol and shoot up the place. Things like that have happened before."
"Not Arthur," Eames said, shaking his head. "He's not loony, he's just lonely. He must have had an isolated family life for him to be so uncomfortable with showing any shred of affection. He seems to only feel safe with the idea of people being mean to him."
"Arthur's parents are very strict," Mal said. "They've been pushing him very hard into his music career, but they never seem interested in coming to any of his programs. I don't believe they are the very affectionate type. Every time I've seen them, they're usually passive-aggressively arguing. They never raise their voices, but they just snip and snipe at each other. It's absolutely despicable."
"Are they coming to the S.O.S. show?" Eames asked.
"I don't know," Mal admitted. "Perhaps you should ask him. Why? Are you hoping to put them in their place? I don't know if Arthur would like that."
"I doubt Arthur would introduce me. He doesn't even want anyone to know we know one another."
"That's not very fair," Cobb said, but a look from Mal shut him up. After all, wasn't their secret marriage a bit similar?
"He's a private person, and I'm a ridiculously famous guitarist who, might I remind you, is closeted. Do you know what kind of insanity that would bring about if even one person-you know, besides the two of you-if even one person found out about that? I don't want to uproot his world just because of a little… ah… affair of sorts," Eames explained.
"It's understandable," Mal said. "Dear Arthur doesn't handle high-stress situations as well as he likes to portray. I can tell when he's on edge by the look in his eyes, and certain days I fear he might snap. I'm not one to listen to rumors at all, but I did hear once that when he was a freshman he was caught with a razor blade in the bathroom."
Eames didn't let it show that it bothered him, but he made a mental note to check on that later. "I'm sure it was just a big misunderstanding," Eames said.
"Kids can come up with all kinds of things," Cobb agreed. "Most rumors are started about the 'weird' kid anyway. I wouldn't put too much faith in that."
"He's not weird, Cobb. He's just misunderstood," Eames complained.
Eames didn't put faith in the rumors…
…but the idea still troubled him…
He wondered if Arthur had heard the rumors being spread about him.
He wondered if Arthur was missing Eames as much as Eames was missing Arthur.
"FUCK!"
Eames heard it through the shut door of Arthur's apartment, and he twisted the knob to find that he'd forgotten to lock the door.
"Fuck! Fuck! Damn it!" Arthur shouted at his music stand because clearly he was under the impression that he was alone and it was the only thing there to be yelled at.
Eames lowered the hood on his disguise as he shut the door, pulling his sunglasses up to rest on the bill of his hat. Really, the disguise had been unnecessary, given that it was two-thirty in the morning, but he'd worn it anyway since he'd come directly from Cobb's place.
"Fuck, fuck!" Arthur whined, and he didn't jump when Eames approached and took the violin from him, placing it back in the case with the bow. Instead, he kicked the music stand and then kicked and punched at the wall. "I suck! Why can't I just fucking play it like I did earlier? Fuck! I suck, I suck, I suck!"
"Arthur," Eames said.
Arthur whirled on him as if taking notice of him for the first time. Surely he'd known he was there because he'd let Eames take the violin away, but he must not have taken much care to see who it was. Eames figured that Arthur didn't get many visitors, so it wouldn't take much effort to guess. Still, by the look on his face, he'd clearly guessed wrong.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, eyes wild, and he was shaking as he tried to put a lid on his nerves now that they were being seen.
"I just…" Eames said, but hesitated.
He realized that Arthur might not react too positively to him claiming that he just wanted to see him. Cobb was no fool; talking too affectionately could likely scare him away from Eames forever.
It turned out that he didn't need to say anything anyway because Arthur threw his arms around his neck and just clung on for dear life. Eames petted his back for a few moments until he appeared to calm down a little and then released him.
"What was that all about, love?" he asked, rubbing Arthur's cheekbones with his thumbs.
"I had it," Arthur said desperately, "I had it, and now I can't-why the fuck am I so damned inconsistent? I suck!"
"Where did all this come from?" Eames asked as gently as possible. "Come on, come on, you just need to take a break from it. You're overworking yourself, pet… It'll be fine, all right?"
"No-" Arthur wailed, but he let Eames drag him into his bedroom. "No, it's not fine. It won't be fine… It's supposed to be, it has to be perfect, and I completely suck, and I'm never going to…"
"Oh, shush," Eames said, pushing him down onto the mattress and tugging Arthur's shoes off. "You've probably been playing since you got home from school, right? Your hands are just worn out, and so are you. You'll play better in the morning."
"-but I need to-"
"You need to take a break," Eames reiterated. "Overworking yourself is certainly not the answer to your problems."
Arthur tried to form another complaint, but Eames rolled him over onto his stomach. He pressed his palms against his shoulder blades and kneaded his shoulders until he was groaning in relief.
"Does that feel good?" Eames asked, working through the tense muscles in his back with his fingers (he was thankful he'd taken note of how his personal masseuses had done things in the past). Arthur answered his question with a small moan. Eames was sure he himself had never been coiled nearly as tightly as Arthur currently was. It couldn't be healthy to be that stressed.
"I don't-I need… ohh…" Arthur was so damned stubborn, but Eames was quickly gaining the upper hand, he was pretty sure.
Eames slipped his hands under Arthur's shirt, caressing him, and it seemed then that his stiffness finally started to slacken off. After a few more minutes, he was sinking into the mattress and completely pliant underneath Eames's hands.
Eames leaned down and pressed a kiss on the back of Arthur's neck and then pulled him up into a sitting position. He slumped against Eames like he was made of rubber and Eames started working the buttons on his shirt. "There, love, there…" he whispered, stripping the shirt off of him and slowly starting to work his belt.
Arthur's head lolled to the side, pressing his forehead into Eames's neck. "It needs to be perfect…"
"It'll never be perfect," Eames explained. "Musicians are too harsh on themselves for perfection to be achieved."
"I want to-"
"They're going to adore your song, love. Stop stressing," Eames said, pressing a light kiss on his forehead. "Come on, get your pants off. You don't want to sleep in those do you?"
"I-"
"It's time to rest now. No more practice tonight."
"I didn't practice enough-I was too busy having sex with you… you jackass," Arthur grumbled into the skin of Eames's neck, and Eames thought that it was entirely more endearing than it should have been.
Eames laid him down, curling his arms around his waist and fitting himself in with Arthur and sighed against the skin of his neck.
He had intended to stay only until Arthur fell asleep to make sure that he actually did, but he ended up falling asleep as well.
He couldn't help it that he was so comfortable next to Arthur.
When Arthur awoke, the first thing he noticed was the bitter sting in his hands, partly from playing until his fingers had blistered, and partly because he'd punched the wall when he'd gotten frustrated (in hindsight, that had been a bit foolish). The second thing he noticed was the warm breath on his neck and the arm slung around his waist. Eames. The third thing he noticed was the electronic alarm clock showing 10:30 in bright red digits.
Arthur sighed, feeling defeated, and pulled himself away from Eames's comforting arms. It seemed that as soon as his feet hit the floor, his cell phone started ringing but instead of answering it, he turned it off and then dragged himself into the bathroom to take a shower. He wasn't surprised when Eames appeared in the doorway just as he was stepping inside the bath.
"I'm sorry," Eames said lightly as he leaned against the doorjamb. "I didn't mean to stay the whole night. I guess I was more knackered than I thought I was."
"It's fine," Arthur mumbled as he stepped under the spray. "Just pick whether you're going to stay in or get out of the bathroom and shut the door. There's a draft."
Eames of course picked 'in' and closed the door with his back. "What was all that craziness about last night?" he asked, tugging off his sneakers when he realized he'd slept in everything (his hat and sunglasses had fallen off sometime during the night at least, but he still felt like an idiot).
"I ah-I just get like that sometimes," Arthur admitted awkwardly. "Ariadne calls them my 'freak outs' or something… Usually when I practice for a long time I start to think everything just sounds bad, and the stress of whatever upcoming performance I'm practicing for causes me to… well… freak out. Ariadne's the only one who's seen me do it, and usually all she has to do is slap me to get me out of it. Once she had to hold me down so I wouldn't break everything in sight… that didn't work out so well for her, since she's so small, and I might have almost knocked her teeth out. She didn't get too mad at me though. She knows how I can be sometimes, I guess."
"That is a very loyal friend you've got there. She's a good girl," Eames said in wonder as he tugged his hooded sweatshirt over his head and proceeded to let his jeans and underwear fall around his ankles.
"She really is. I really don't know why she puts up with me."
Eames stepped into the shower with Arthur, chuckling a little. "Perhaps your good qualities make up for your bad ones."
Arthur pouted because clearly he did not think so and started scrubbing shampoo through his hair. "That's stupid."
"Why do you get so worked up over it anyways?" Eames asked, reaching out to form Arthur's shampoo-frothy hair into a mohawk. "This punk look works for you."
Arthur scoffed as he rinsed the shampoo out and said, "I-I don't know. I guess ever since I was a kid I've been pushed to be the best. I had to get every solo that was offered in my high school orchestra. I had to get that full ride scholarship. It's the same thing now."
"Yeah, I get that, but why?" Eames asked.
…and when Arthur opened his mouth to answer, he realized that he didn't really have one. "I don't… Well, you're a musician. You know why the schooling is important. It helps you get a good position just like any schooling does." He scrubbed his body down with soap to avoid looking at Eames and then rinsed off.
Eames snorted. "I hope you realize that I was a secondary school dropout and spent all of my time busking for tips at the Covent Garden. I was homeless by the time I was seventeen, but I was discovered by Cobb who was overseas visiting his girlfriend, and he asked me to be in a band he was forming, and it wasn't like I had anything better to do, so here I am. It was pure chance that brought me upon my career, that and years of honing my craft. I'm not saying school is unimportant, but the best teacher of music for you is you."
"Thanks for the cryptic advice, Yoda. Help a lot, it will," Arthur replied sarcastically while Eames laid soft kisses along his collarbone.
"I mean it," Eames said softly, making his way down his chest. "I have always played guitar strictly because I loved doing it, and I didn't care if I was homeless or any of that as long as I could play. You should never play if you don't want to or you'll start hating something you care about."
"You're being entirely too sugar-sweet for my tastes," Arthur complained, rather than comment on such a thing... It made him feel unsure and scared, talking about things he cared about, and the last thing he needed was even less consistency in his life. "I was just trying to shower so I could at least make it to some of my classes, you know."
"Oh, really," Eames said before pausing to plant a long kiss on his navel. "I suppose I should stop making moves on you then?" Considering Arthur was already half-hard, he had a feeling that Arthur wasn't about to stop him.
"No, just-just get on with it. Why are you trying to be so gentle? You don't-just…"
Eames glanced up at him, suddenly much less interested in Arthur's prick. "Do you have a problem with me being gentle?"
Arthur exhaled through his nose, clearly thrown off by the question. "You never found any reason to be before," he offered.
Eames raised his eyebrows and rose to his full height. "We haven't known each other long enough for you to know my reasoning for anything if you really think about it. Maybe I just assumed you liked it rough while I'm actually as gentle as a still pond."
"Fuck off," Arthur growled, rolling his eyes. "Don't patronize me, asshole."
"I wasn't," Eames said, but Arthur was done listening to him, choosing instead to bite down into his neck. "Fine," he sighed and started stroking Arthur, slipping a hand around to his backside to ghost his fingertips over his entrance. "Be that way. We don't have to talk about it. Do you intend for me to fuck you bareback or are you going to wait for me to get some protection?"
"I don't care," Arthur panted against his ear.
"That's showing quite a bit of trust in me," Eames said.
"If you had some sort of disease, I'm sure you would've told me so by now," Arthur retaliated, but he was quickly becoming putty in Eames's hand if the way his knees were starting to buckle was any indication.
"What if I didn't know?" Eames asked. "What if I hadn't been tested recently? Did you ever think of that?"
"Why are you trying to stop this?" Arthur whined, punching his chest. "If you want to be such a dick about it then go get your protection and fuck me already! Fuck!"
"Are you trying to make me be mean to you?" Eames asked, throwing his arms out in frustration.
"Just forget it!" Arthur spat, turning away from Eames to change the temperature of the water, most likely to attempt to bring down his hard-on. "You're clearly more interested in asking me stupid fucking questions."
"I just wanted to know!" Eames said, voice straining more than it should have been. "Where the hell do we bloody stand? Is this just sex or is it something else? I don't care either way you know, but I'd like to have an idea because I don't bloody know anymore."
"Where is this coming from?" Arthur shouted, and Eames pressed him against the shower wall. Arthur could swear he could hear Eames's heartbeat even through his own back.
"I met your teacher Mal last night," Eames replied as if he'd decided to say something other than what he'd planned to say, not loosening the embrace but softening his tone.
Arthur pushed his troubles to the back of his mind for the moment, responding with, "Wh-what? How did you…"
"Cobb introduced me."
Arthur looked over his shoulder at Eames, skeptical. "You're fucking with me."
"I do mean that Cobb, if that's what you mean. It turns out that they're married. She was gushing about how talented you are while I was at her house."
Arthur wriggled around so that his back was against the wall, mostly so that he could give Eames his look of disbelief with both eyes, and Eames chuckled. "I'm not kidding, I swear!" Eames said. "Your teacher is secretly married to the famous Mr. Dominic Cobb."
Arthur shut off the water. "That… that doesn't make any sense… Why would-I mean, how-what? Mal never even said she was-I mean, they have the same last name, but-"
Eames snagged a fluffy, white towel out from behind the curtain and tossed it in Arthur's face. "It's true. They keep it under wraps so the paparazzi leave her alone. Believe it or not, some famous people can keep secrets."
Arthur hesitated as he stepped over the side of the tub, toweling his hair and then rubbing at his shoulders. "Why… why are you telling me this?"
"Keep talking like that and you'll scare him off."
Eames sighed, mentally smacking himself and grabbing Arthur by the wrists. "Forget about it… I'm sorry I'm acting like a nutter. I was thrown off a little by your 'freak out' last night, and I was worried. When I get worried I tend to try to put things in proverbial boxes, organize it so I don't have anything to panic over."
"It's… it's fine… I'm kind of like that too, I guess," Arthur mumbled, dismissing it. "You didn't even wash your hair."
"I'm just a dirty little fucker, aren't I," Eames said, and leaned in for a long kiss that sent Arthur downwards to sit on the side of the bath. The cold shower had failed to completely quell his erection, so Eames released his mouth to lean over and take care of it.
"I don't-nn-I don't get you," Arthur whimpered, planting a hand on the faucet to keep from falling into the tub while simultaneously widening the space between his legs. "One minute you're all cryptic and serious, and the next you're-Ohh!"
Clearly, Arthur no longer cared, hips bucking as he nearly choked Eames.
Maybe it was just sex for Arthur, Eames thought. He'd been an idiot to try and tempt him into a confession just because he damn sure knew he himself wasn't about to make one. He couldn't screw up whatever it was they were doing…
…he'd miss them too much…
…but then, what would they do when these short weeks were over and Eames inevitably had to get back on the road? Cobb had already been planning on heading back into the studio with the rest of the band to start recording their next album, and after that they would tour again, and Saito was recommending Eames take a guest spot on a popular medical drama if he wanted to get an acting career going (and he certainly didn't have any complaints about that) and…
Arthur… Arthur would finish his schooling. Eames was sure that from there he'd most likely wind up in a popular orchestra and move onto travelling with his own 'band'.
There was no them.
The whole spiel about Mal had been wishful thinking on his part, waiting for Arthur to go, 'oh, hey, we could do that.' What the fuck was wrong with him? He'd only known Arthur for a few days!
Arthur yelped, coming down Eames's throat suddenly. Eames wasn't quite prepared and nearly gagged on it. Arthur fell into the tub even though he'd been holding on as soon as the waves of pleasure faded.
Eames would have thought it hilarious except he was currently in the middle of realizing that these moments weren't going to last.
How did this boy go and make him crazy in just a couple of days?
"Are you all right? You didn't bruise your tailbone, did you?" Eames asked, hoisting Arthur out of the basin of the bath.
"I-I'm fine, I'm-"
Both of them seemed to notice the knocking on the door simultaneously.
"Ah… uh…" Arthur stammered, stumbling over Eames's clothes as he made his way out of the bathroom, grabbing a robe off of the hook on the door. "Coming! I'm coming!"
"You already did that," Eames said, and since Arthur was too far across the room to hit him, he settled with a bruising glare instead.
"Stay here!" he hissed and slammed the bedroom door on him. "Jackass."
Of course, it was Ariadne pounding on the door with a carrier of Starbucks coffee in one hand and a book bag slouched over her shoulder.
"What are you doing here?" Arthur asked when he opened the door, and it was eerily reminiscent of the night before when he'd said it to Eames, expecting Ariadne instead.
"When you didn't show up for class this morning, I figured you had another one of your 'freak outs' so I brought some coffee. I called first, for the record, but you didn't answer your phone."
She knew him so well.
"You skipped class to bring me coffee."
"What are friends for?"
"Your class was cancelled, wasn't it."
"Yes it was. Let me in."
He knew her pretty well too.
"Uh… now's not really… not really a good time," Arthur said, clutching his robe more tightly over his chest.
"Why?" Ariadne asked. "It's not like I haven't seen you straight out of the shower before. Come on, Arthur, we've known each other since we were like… six. We're like brother and sister for God's sakes. Stop being so modest."
Arthur frowned and glanced over his shoulder before he could stop himself.
"Do you… have company?" Ariadne asked suspiciously, standing on her tiptoes to try and see over his shoulder. "You never have company. I'm the only person who comes here."
"I don't-there's no one here. I was just going to get dressed and head to class."
"You're lying," Ariadne said, shoving her way in, and Arthur hated the fact that he was so slender. He'd been neglecting his morning workouts too, since he met Eames…
…but really, that had only been a few days, hadn't it?
What the fuck was happening to him?
"I'm not lying," Arthur stammered.
"Then where'd this guitar come from?" Ariadne asked, indicating the case that Eames had left by the door when he'd come in to find Arthur in one of his fits. "You don't play guitar now, do you?" Unabashedly she popped the locks and opened it. "Whoa! This is… this looks just like Eames's acoustic! So cool! I hope this is a gift for me!"
Arthur grabbed one of the cups of coffee out of the carrier. "It's not. I just… I found it."
"Then I can have it?"
"No! I'm going to get it back to its original owner."
"Who is here, right?" Ariadne smirked. "Who is it?... and how much does he want for this amazing guitar?"
"You can't even play guitar," Arthur said flatly, also choosing to avoid the question.
"I could learn."
"Ariadne-"
"Seriously, you could not have just found this guitar… Oh, man, what if it actually belongs to Eames? I heard a rumor that he was still in town. Then I could cross two Radical Notion members off of my list of people to meet before I die. I mean, yeah, I didn't actually get to talk to Dom Cobb, but-"
Arthur really wished he wasn't such a terrible liar because even he could feel the guilty look spreading across his face when she turned to look at him. He really wanted to dig a hole, crawl into it, and bury himself to get away from her gaze.
"Arthur?" she questioned, and he nonchalantly sipped at his coffee while simultaneously avoiding eye contact. "Arthur, where did you really get this guitar?"
"Ah-"
"Did you… did you go on a rampage and steal it? I know your 'freak outs' have been dramatic before, but you-you actually stole-"
"I didn't steal anything!" Arthur interrupted, setting down his coffee. "I didn't steal it, okay? It's… It's a little more complicated than that."
"Well," Ariadne said, crossing her arms over her chest and rising to her full height, and really, she shouldn't have looked so intimidating at only five feet tall, "spill."
Damned Ariadne. It was all her fault he was even in this mess, making him go to that concert.
What the fuck was he supposed to say? He was at a complete loss, and he was just wishing for some kind of help. Clearly his body hadn't been the one to go to when it came to controlling situations lately, and he had a bad feeling it wasn't about to be reliable now. He wished he'd at least been dressed. It might have made the moment at least slightly less awkward.
"Arthur, tell me. I'm your best friend. You can tell me anything."
"Ah… well, uh…"
"I might be able to explain a few things," Eames said as he exited the bedroom.
Ariadne's eyes went as wide as saucers, and Arthur was sure his face was similar.
"Ah… Ariadne, this is Eames," Arthur said, gesturing to the man as he came up to his side. He was grateful that Eames had put his clothes back on and dried his hair before deciding to make an appearance.
…and then Ariadne fainted.
"Well, fuck, that didn't go too well, did it?" Eames said.
Arthur glared at him.
I stayed up way too late just to finish this for you guys. XD
Author: osaki_nana_707
Word count: 5,020
Pairings/Characters: ArthurxEames, Ariadne, Cobb, Mal
Rating: R(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 Five: I Started Something I Couldn't Finish
Eames was forced to explain himself, though he certainly condensed the story and cut out anything he would deem worthy of murder by the woman near the cutlery. He avoided as much of the sex as possible, but really, there wasn't much else he could talk about considering that was mostly what they did when they were together. Oddly enough, she didn't seem to be boiling over with rage, only confused, but Eames wasn't going to allow himself to be fooled. Women could go from zero to bitch in less than a second, and her fury could very well have been well hidden. His girl friends back in school had been able to hide their anger quite effectively and then commit the most heinous revenge imaginable, all with a smile on their face, and the other girl (or boy) would never even know what hit them.
That was why he made sure to reiterate several times that Arthur made the first move and that he really, really liked him a lot. He could not stress that enough.
When he was finished, Mal opened her mouth, closed it, paused, and then said, "Now… this is Arthur we're talking about? Thin, slicked back hair, three-piece suit Arthur? Violin playing, brown-eyed, full-ride-scholarship Arthur?"
"That's him," Eames said. "He's a pistol, most definitely, but I quite like him."
"So…" Mal said, coming around the counter with her cup of tea poised in her hands, and surprisingly she was smiling, "It must have been you that caused this change in him."
"Change?" Eames asked, smiling unsurely. He was sure the conversation could go one way or another, and he wasn't about to set himself up if it was going to tumble down a bad road. Her pretty little grin could mean that she was prepared to exact her revenge on him, after all.
"Yes… he's not so-so distant," Mal said, taking a seat. "Arthur, the dear boy, he's very intelligent and very talented, but he's had quite a cold shoulder since the day I met him. It took me a long time to get him to talk to me at all, and he was still very hesitant to reveal anything about himself. He has a way of diverting the conversation to other things, and he's often so angry.
"Today though… Today he was different. I could see it in the way that he played. There was something… tangible there. Does that make sense?"
Eames's smile broadened a little because he did understand. He'd witnessed the less defensive Arthur, and the boy had gone and taken Eames's words of encouragement as a challenge. He'd decided to loosen his own reins a little, and apparently it was yielding some positive results (as Eames had expected). The boy really was a damned fast learner. He would punch anyone who thought he was just cocky.
"I didn't really do that much," Eames shrugged, playing with the strings on his guitar. "I just gave him someone to listen to I guess. Maybe he felt safe telling me things because he hadn't already built any kind of ah-kind of…"
"Relationship?" Cobb guessed.
"Ah-camaraderie," Eames corrected, embarrassed. He wasn't about to go speaking on Arthur's behalf since he didn't know for sure what was going on in the boy's head. "He hadn't built any kind of camaraderie with me, so there was no danger in destroying an already cherished friendship or anything, but at the same time, he already knew me quite well, and ah… Oh, bloody fuck, I'm not making any sense at all, am I?"
"Well, whatever you did, I'm certainly happy that you did it," Mal said, sipping at her tea. "I was worried about him for a while. Every week he'd be more hunched and closed off and wary. I was worried he might come in with a pistol and shoot up the place. Things like that have happened before."
"Not Arthur," Eames said, shaking his head. "He's not loony, he's just lonely. He must have had an isolated family life for him to be so uncomfortable with showing any shred of affection. He seems to only feel safe with the idea of people being mean to him."
"Arthur's parents are very strict," Mal said. "They've been pushing him very hard into his music career, but they never seem interested in coming to any of his programs. I don't believe they are the very affectionate type. Every time I've seen them, they're usually passive-aggressively arguing. They never raise their voices, but they just snip and snipe at each other. It's absolutely despicable."
"Are they coming to the S.O.S. show?" Eames asked.
"I don't know," Mal admitted. "Perhaps you should ask him. Why? Are you hoping to put them in their place? I don't know if Arthur would like that."
"I doubt Arthur would introduce me. He doesn't even want anyone to know we know one another."
"That's not very fair," Cobb said, but a look from Mal shut him up. After all, wasn't their secret marriage a bit similar?
"He's a private person, and I'm a ridiculously famous guitarist who, might I remind you, is closeted. Do you know what kind of insanity that would bring about if even one person-you know, besides the two of you-if even one person found out about that? I don't want to uproot his world just because of a little… ah… affair of sorts," Eames explained.
"It's understandable," Mal said. "Dear Arthur doesn't handle high-stress situations as well as he likes to portray. I can tell when he's on edge by the look in his eyes, and certain days I fear he might snap. I'm not one to listen to rumors at all, but I did hear once that when he was a freshman he was caught with a razor blade in the bathroom."
Eames didn't let it show that it bothered him, but he made a mental note to check on that later. "I'm sure it was just a big misunderstanding," Eames said.
"Kids can come up with all kinds of things," Cobb agreed. "Most rumors are started about the 'weird' kid anyway. I wouldn't put too much faith in that."
"He's not weird, Cobb. He's just misunderstood," Eames complained.
Eames didn't put faith in the rumors…
…but the idea still troubled him…
He wondered if Arthur had heard the rumors being spread about him.
He wondered if Arthur was missing Eames as much as Eames was missing Arthur.
"FUCK!"
Eames heard it through the shut door of Arthur's apartment, and he twisted the knob to find that he'd forgotten to lock the door.
"Fuck! Fuck! Damn it!" Arthur shouted at his music stand because clearly he was under the impression that he was alone and it was the only thing there to be yelled at.
Eames lowered the hood on his disguise as he shut the door, pulling his sunglasses up to rest on the bill of his hat. Really, the disguise had been unnecessary, given that it was two-thirty in the morning, but he'd worn it anyway since he'd come directly from Cobb's place.
"Fuck, fuck!" Arthur whined, and he didn't jump when Eames approached and took the violin from him, placing it back in the case with the bow. Instead, he kicked the music stand and then kicked and punched at the wall. "I suck! Why can't I just fucking play it like I did earlier? Fuck! I suck, I suck, I suck!"
"Arthur," Eames said.
Arthur whirled on him as if taking notice of him for the first time. Surely he'd known he was there because he'd let Eames take the violin away, but he must not have taken much care to see who it was. Eames figured that Arthur didn't get many visitors, so it wouldn't take much effort to guess. Still, by the look on his face, he'd clearly guessed wrong.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, eyes wild, and he was shaking as he tried to put a lid on his nerves now that they were being seen.
"I just…" Eames said, but hesitated.
He realized that Arthur might not react too positively to him claiming that he just wanted to see him. Cobb was no fool; talking too affectionately could likely scare him away from Eames forever.
It turned out that he didn't need to say anything anyway because Arthur threw his arms around his neck and just clung on for dear life. Eames petted his back for a few moments until he appeared to calm down a little and then released him.
"What was that all about, love?" he asked, rubbing Arthur's cheekbones with his thumbs.
"I had it," Arthur said desperately, "I had it, and now I can't-why the fuck am I so damned inconsistent? I suck!"
"Where did all this come from?" Eames asked as gently as possible. "Come on, come on, you just need to take a break from it. You're overworking yourself, pet… It'll be fine, all right?"
"No-" Arthur wailed, but he let Eames drag him into his bedroom. "No, it's not fine. It won't be fine… It's supposed to be, it has to be perfect, and I completely suck, and I'm never going to…"
"Oh, shush," Eames said, pushing him down onto the mattress and tugging Arthur's shoes off. "You've probably been playing since you got home from school, right? Your hands are just worn out, and so are you. You'll play better in the morning."
"-but I need to-"
"You need to take a break," Eames reiterated. "Overworking yourself is certainly not the answer to your problems."
Arthur tried to form another complaint, but Eames rolled him over onto his stomach. He pressed his palms against his shoulder blades and kneaded his shoulders until he was groaning in relief.
"Does that feel good?" Eames asked, working through the tense muscles in his back with his fingers (he was thankful he'd taken note of how his personal masseuses had done things in the past). Arthur answered his question with a small moan. Eames was sure he himself had never been coiled nearly as tightly as Arthur currently was. It couldn't be healthy to be that stressed.
"I don't-I need… ohh…" Arthur was so damned stubborn, but Eames was quickly gaining the upper hand, he was pretty sure.
Eames slipped his hands under Arthur's shirt, caressing him, and it seemed then that his stiffness finally started to slacken off. After a few more minutes, he was sinking into the mattress and completely pliant underneath Eames's hands.
Eames leaned down and pressed a kiss on the back of Arthur's neck and then pulled him up into a sitting position. He slumped against Eames like he was made of rubber and Eames started working the buttons on his shirt. "There, love, there…" he whispered, stripping the shirt off of him and slowly starting to work his belt.
Arthur's head lolled to the side, pressing his forehead into Eames's neck. "It needs to be perfect…"
"It'll never be perfect," Eames explained. "Musicians are too harsh on themselves for perfection to be achieved."
"I want to-"
"They're going to adore your song, love. Stop stressing," Eames said, pressing a light kiss on his forehead. "Come on, get your pants off. You don't want to sleep in those do you?"
"I-"
"It's time to rest now. No more practice tonight."
"I didn't practice enough-I was too busy having sex with you… you jackass," Arthur grumbled into the skin of Eames's neck, and Eames thought that it was entirely more endearing than it should have been.
Eames laid him down, curling his arms around his waist and fitting himself in with Arthur and sighed against the skin of his neck.
He had intended to stay only until Arthur fell asleep to make sure that he actually did, but he ended up falling asleep as well.
He couldn't help it that he was so comfortable next to Arthur.
When Arthur awoke, the first thing he noticed was the bitter sting in his hands, partly from playing until his fingers had blistered, and partly because he'd punched the wall when he'd gotten frustrated (in hindsight, that had been a bit foolish). The second thing he noticed was the warm breath on his neck and the arm slung around his waist. Eames. The third thing he noticed was the electronic alarm clock showing 10:30 in bright red digits.
Arthur sighed, feeling defeated, and pulled himself away from Eames's comforting arms. It seemed that as soon as his feet hit the floor, his cell phone started ringing but instead of answering it, he turned it off and then dragged himself into the bathroom to take a shower. He wasn't surprised when Eames appeared in the doorway just as he was stepping inside the bath.
"I'm sorry," Eames said lightly as he leaned against the doorjamb. "I didn't mean to stay the whole night. I guess I was more knackered than I thought I was."
"It's fine," Arthur mumbled as he stepped under the spray. "Just pick whether you're going to stay in or get out of the bathroom and shut the door. There's a draft."
Eames of course picked 'in' and closed the door with his back. "What was all that craziness about last night?" he asked, tugging off his sneakers when he realized he'd slept in everything (his hat and sunglasses had fallen off sometime during the night at least, but he still felt like an idiot).
"I ah-I just get like that sometimes," Arthur admitted awkwardly. "Ariadne calls them my 'freak outs' or something… Usually when I practice for a long time I start to think everything just sounds bad, and the stress of whatever upcoming performance I'm practicing for causes me to… well… freak out. Ariadne's the only one who's seen me do it, and usually all she has to do is slap me to get me out of it. Once she had to hold me down so I wouldn't break everything in sight… that didn't work out so well for her, since she's so small, and I might have almost knocked her teeth out. She didn't get too mad at me though. She knows how I can be sometimes, I guess."
"That is a very loyal friend you've got there. She's a good girl," Eames said in wonder as he tugged his hooded sweatshirt over his head and proceeded to let his jeans and underwear fall around his ankles.
"She really is. I really don't know why she puts up with me."
Eames stepped into the shower with Arthur, chuckling a little. "Perhaps your good qualities make up for your bad ones."
Arthur pouted because clearly he did not think so and started scrubbing shampoo through his hair. "That's stupid."
"Why do you get so worked up over it anyways?" Eames asked, reaching out to form Arthur's shampoo-frothy hair into a mohawk. "This punk look works for you."
Arthur scoffed as he rinsed the shampoo out and said, "I-I don't know. I guess ever since I was a kid I've been pushed to be the best. I had to get every solo that was offered in my high school orchestra. I had to get that full ride scholarship. It's the same thing now."
"Yeah, I get that, but why?" Eames asked.
…and when Arthur opened his mouth to answer, he realized that he didn't really have one. "I don't… Well, you're a musician. You know why the schooling is important. It helps you get a good position just like any schooling does." He scrubbed his body down with soap to avoid looking at Eames and then rinsed off.
Eames snorted. "I hope you realize that I was a secondary school dropout and spent all of my time busking for tips at the Covent Garden. I was homeless by the time I was seventeen, but I was discovered by Cobb who was overseas visiting his girlfriend, and he asked me to be in a band he was forming, and it wasn't like I had anything better to do, so here I am. It was pure chance that brought me upon my career, that and years of honing my craft. I'm not saying school is unimportant, but the best teacher of music for you is you."
"Thanks for the cryptic advice, Yoda. Help a lot, it will," Arthur replied sarcastically while Eames laid soft kisses along his collarbone.
"I mean it," Eames said softly, making his way down his chest. "I have always played guitar strictly because I loved doing it, and I didn't care if I was homeless or any of that as long as I could play. You should never play if you don't want to or you'll start hating something you care about."
"You're being entirely too sugar-sweet for my tastes," Arthur complained, rather than comment on such a thing... It made him feel unsure and scared, talking about things he cared about, and the last thing he needed was even less consistency in his life. "I was just trying to shower so I could at least make it to some of my classes, you know."
"Oh, really," Eames said before pausing to plant a long kiss on his navel. "I suppose I should stop making moves on you then?" Considering Arthur was already half-hard, he had a feeling that Arthur wasn't about to stop him.
"No, just-just get on with it. Why are you trying to be so gentle? You don't-just…"
Eames glanced up at him, suddenly much less interested in Arthur's prick. "Do you have a problem with me being gentle?"
Arthur exhaled through his nose, clearly thrown off by the question. "You never found any reason to be before," he offered.
Eames raised his eyebrows and rose to his full height. "We haven't known each other long enough for you to know my reasoning for anything if you really think about it. Maybe I just assumed you liked it rough while I'm actually as gentle as a still pond."
"Fuck off," Arthur growled, rolling his eyes. "Don't patronize me, asshole."
"I wasn't," Eames said, but Arthur was done listening to him, choosing instead to bite down into his neck. "Fine," he sighed and started stroking Arthur, slipping a hand around to his backside to ghost his fingertips over his entrance. "Be that way. We don't have to talk about it. Do you intend for me to fuck you bareback or are you going to wait for me to get some protection?"
"I don't care," Arthur panted against his ear.
"That's showing quite a bit of trust in me," Eames said.
"If you had some sort of disease, I'm sure you would've told me so by now," Arthur retaliated, but he was quickly becoming putty in Eames's hand if the way his knees were starting to buckle was any indication.
"What if I didn't know?" Eames asked. "What if I hadn't been tested recently? Did you ever think of that?"
"Why are you trying to stop this?" Arthur whined, punching his chest. "If you want to be such a dick about it then go get your protection and fuck me already! Fuck!"
"Are you trying to make me be mean to you?" Eames asked, throwing his arms out in frustration.
"Just forget it!" Arthur spat, turning away from Eames to change the temperature of the water, most likely to attempt to bring down his hard-on. "You're clearly more interested in asking me stupid fucking questions."
"I just wanted to know!" Eames said, voice straining more than it should have been. "Where the hell do we bloody stand? Is this just sex or is it something else? I don't care either way you know, but I'd like to have an idea because I don't bloody know anymore."
"Where is this coming from?" Arthur shouted, and Eames pressed him against the shower wall. Arthur could swear he could hear Eames's heartbeat even through his own back.
"I met your teacher Mal last night," Eames replied as if he'd decided to say something other than what he'd planned to say, not loosening the embrace but softening his tone.
Arthur pushed his troubles to the back of his mind for the moment, responding with, "Wh-what? How did you…"
"Cobb introduced me."
Arthur looked over his shoulder at Eames, skeptical. "You're fucking with me."
"I do mean that Cobb, if that's what you mean. It turns out that they're married. She was gushing about how talented you are while I was at her house."
Arthur wriggled around so that his back was against the wall, mostly so that he could give Eames his look of disbelief with both eyes, and Eames chuckled. "I'm not kidding, I swear!" Eames said. "Your teacher is secretly married to the famous Mr. Dominic Cobb."
Arthur shut off the water. "That… that doesn't make any sense… Why would-I mean, how-what? Mal never even said she was-I mean, they have the same last name, but-"
Eames snagged a fluffy, white towel out from behind the curtain and tossed it in Arthur's face. "It's true. They keep it under wraps so the paparazzi leave her alone. Believe it or not, some famous people can keep secrets."
Arthur hesitated as he stepped over the side of the tub, toweling his hair and then rubbing at his shoulders. "Why… why are you telling me this?"
"Keep talking like that and you'll scare him off."
Eames sighed, mentally smacking himself and grabbing Arthur by the wrists. "Forget about it… I'm sorry I'm acting like a nutter. I was thrown off a little by your 'freak out' last night, and I was worried. When I get worried I tend to try to put things in proverbial boxes, organize it so I don't have anything to panic over."
"It's… it's fine… I'm kind of like that too, I guess," Arthur mumbled, dismissing it. "You didn't even wash your hair."
"I'm just a dirty little fucker, aren't I," Eames said, and leaned in for a long kiss that sent Arthur downwards to sit on the side of the bath. The cold shower had failed to completely quell his erection, so Eames released his mouth to lean over and take care of it.
"I don't-nn-I don't get you," Arthur whimpered, planting a hand on the faucet to keep from falling into the tub while simultaneously widening the space between his legs. "One minute you're all cryptic and serious, and the next you're-Ohh!"
Clearly, Arthur no longer cared, hips bucking as he nearly choked Eames.
Maybe it was just sex for Arthur, Eames thought. He'd been an idiot to try and tempt him into a confession just because he damn sure knew he himself wasn't about to make one. He couldn't screw up whatever it was they were doing…
…he'd miss them too much…
…but then, what would they do when these short weeks were over and Eames inevitably had to get back on the road? Cobb had already been planning on heading back into the studio with the rest of the band to start recording their next album, and after that they would tour again, and Saito was recommending Eames take a guest spot on a popular medical drama if he wanted to get an acting career going (and he certainly didn't have any complaints about that) and…
Arthur… Arthur would finish his schooling. Eames was sure that from there he'd most likely wind up in a popular orchestra and move onto travelling with his own 'band'.
There was no them.
The whole spiel about Mal had been wishful thinking on his part, waiting for Arthur to go, 'oh, hey, we could do that.' What the fuck was wrong with him? He'd only known Arthur for a few days!
Arthur yelped, coming down Eames's throat suddenly. Eames wasn't quite prepared and nearly gagged on it. Arthur fell into the tub even though he'd been holding on as soon as the waves of pleasure faded.
Eames would have thought it hilarious except he was currently in the middle of realizing that these moments weren't going to last.
How did this boy go and make him crazy in just a couple of days?
"Are you all right? You didn't bruise your tailbone, did you?" Eames asked, hoisting Arthur out of the basin of the bath.
"I-I'm fine, I'm-"
Both of them seemed to notice the knocking on the door simultaneously.
"Ah… uh…" Arthur stammered, stumbling over Eames's clothes as he made his way out of the bathroom, grabbing a robe off of the hook on the door. "Coming! I'm coming!"
"You already did that," Eames said, and since Arthur was too far across the room to hit him, he settled with a bruising glare instead.
"Stay here!" he hissed and slammed the bedroom door on him. "Jackass."
Of course, it was Ariadne pounding on the door with a carrier of Starbucks coffee in one hand and a book bag slouched over her shoulder.
"What are you doing here?" Arthur asked when he opened the door, and it was eerily reminiscent of the night before when he'd said it to Eames, expecting Ariadne instead.
"When you didn't show up for class this morning, I figured you had another one of your 'freak outs' so I brought some coffee. I called first, for the record, but you didn't answer your phone."
She knew him so well.
"You skipped class to bring me coffee."
"What are friends for?"
"Your class was cancelled, wasn't it."
"Yes it was. Let me in."
He knew her pretty well too.
"Uh… now's not really… not really a good time," Arthur said, clutching his robe more tightly over his chest.
"Why?" Ariadne asked. "It's not like I haven't seen you straight out of the shower before. Come on, Arthur, we've known each other since we were like… six. We're like brother and sister for God's sakes. Stop being so modest."
Arthur frowned and glanced over his shoulder before he could stop himself.
"Do you… have company?" Ariadne asked suspiciously, standing on her tiptoes to try and see over his shoulder. "You never have company. I'm the only person who comes here."
"I don't-there's no one here. I was just going to get dressed and head to class."
"You're lying," Ariadne said, shoving her way in, and Arthur hated the fact that he was so slender. He'd been neglecting his morning workouts too, since he met Eames…
…but really, that had only been a few days, hadn't it?
What the fuck was happening to him?
"I'm not lying," Arthur stammered.
"Then where'd this guitar come from?" Ariadne asked, indicating the case that Eames had left by the door when he'd come in to find Arthur in one of his fits. "You don't play guitar now, do you?" Unabashedly she popped the locks and opened it. "Whoa! This is… this looks just like Eames's acoustic! So cool! I hope this is a gift for me!"
Arthur grabbed one of the cups of coffee out of the carrier. "It's not. I just… I found it."
"Then I can have it?"
"No! I'm going to get it back to its original owner."
"Who is here, right?" Ariadne smirked. "Who is it?... and how much does he want for this amazing guitar?"
"You can't even play guitar," Arthur said flatly, also choosing to avoid the question.
"I could learn."
"Ariadne-"
"Seriously, you could not have just found this guitar… Oh, man, what if it actually belongs to Eames? I heard a rumor that he was still in town. Then I could cross two Radical Notion members off of my list of people to meet before I die. I mean, yeah, I didn't actually get to talk to Dom Cobb, but-"
Arthur really wished he wasn't such a terrible liar because even he could feel the guilty look spreading across his face when she turned to look at him. He really wanted to dig a hole, crawl into it, and bury himself to get away from her gaze.
"Arthur?" she questioned, and he nonchalantly sipped at his coffee while simultaneously avoiding eye contact. "Arthur, where did you really get this guitar?"
"Ah-"
"Did you… did you go on a rampage and steal it? I know your 'freak outs' have been dramatic before, but you-you actually stole-"
"I didn't steal anything!" Arthur interrupted, setting down his coffee. "I didn't steal it, okay? It's… It's a little more complicated than that."
"Well," Ariadne said, crossing her arms over her chest and rising to her full height, and really, she shouldn't have looked so intimidating at only five feet tall, "spill."
Damned Ariadne. It was all her fault he was even in this mess, making him go to that concert.
What the fuck was he supposed to say? He was at a complete loss, and he was just wishing for some kind of help. Clearly his body hadn't been the one to go to when it came to controlling situations lately, and he had a bad feeling it wasn't about to be reliable now. He wished he'd at least been dressed. It might have made the moment at least slightly less awkward.
"Arthur, tell me. I'm your best friend. You can tell me anything."
"Ah… well, uh…"
"I might be able to explain a few things," Eames said as he exited the bedroom.
Ariadne's eyes went as wide as saucers, and Arthur was sure his face was similar.
"Ah… Ariadne, this is Eames," Arthur said, gesturing to the man as he came up to his side. He was grateful that Eames had put his clothes back on and dried his hair before deciding to make an appearance.
…and then Ariadne fainted.
"Well, fuck, that didn't go too well, did it?" Eames said.
Arthur glared at him.
I stayed up way too late just to finish this for you guys. XD