Inception - I've Got a Rock n' Roll Life (6/16)

[osaki_nana_707]

Title: I've Got a Rock n' Roll Life (6/16)
Author: osaki_nana_707
Word count: 5,205
Pairings/Characters: ArthurxEames, Ariadne
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 Six: You Don't Have To Mean It

Eames hoisted Ariadne up onto the couch while Arthur went and got a cool cloth for her head. Thankfully, she didn't appear to have any injuries since Arthur's floor was carpeted, but he had a feeling she'd have a pretty impressive bump on the back of her head later.

She was starting to rouse by the time Arthur placed the cloth on her forehead.

"Hey," Arthur said softly. "Don't move just yet, okay? You fainted."

"Arth-Arthur," she stammered, pointing over his shoulder at Eames. "What the fuck-you… am I dreaming right now?"

"Ah… no…" Arthur said and didn't stop her when she pushed herself up to a sitting position anyway.

"This-you're not some kind of impersonator, are you?" Ariadne asked, and apparently she didn't care that Arthur was there anymore.

"I am not," Eames replied. "Let me explain."

"Okay," Ariadne said, and she appeared to be fighting back a rather impressive smile and the chance to bounce.

Arthur opened his mouth to object because he didn't exactly want his reputation to just be destroyed by Eames, but Eames appeared to have come up with something else to say rather than 'I met him after the concert and we've been fucking like rabbits ever since'.

"See," Eames said, sitting on Arthur's coffee table. "I was out on the town last night, in disguise of course, just trying to get some time in public without being mobbed by fans. I thought that I got recognized though while I was in a coffee shop, and I ran out. It turns out it was just a false alarm because no one followed me, but I left my guitar in the coffee shop, and your friend here saw me leave without it. My contact information is in there-sans my name, of course, so he called me and let me know that he had it, and I showed up this morning to come and get it. I ah… didn't mean to interrupt him during his shower, but, well, he probably thought that I was you."

"…Oh…" Ariadne said. "Oh. This… This is so cool!"

Apparently, she couldn't hold it in anymore. She flung her arms around Eames's shoulders, squealing girlishly, "Oh my God! This is the coolest thing ever! I'm like… you guys' biggest fan! I have all of your albums and DVDs and everything!"

"Thank you, thank you," Eames chuckled. "You flatter me, really."

"O.M.G., Arthur, we can't go to school now. This is fucking Eames from Radical Notion! Oh, please, please, Mr. Eames, you've got to stay and tell us stories about touring and the other band mates. You've got to play us a song. Oh please, oh please, oh please."

"Ariadne, I'm sure Eames has other things to do-" Arthur tried, but Eames interrupted by lifting his hand.

"No, no, it's all right. I'm always willing to do a few things for a fan, but I do have to ask you not to tell anyone else about this, all right?"

"I won't tell a soul," Ariadne said. "Scout's honor."

"You can't have scout's honor! You're not a scout!" Arthur complained. "You never were!"

"Shut up, Arthur!" Ariadne shouted and then pulled Eames down to sit next to her on the couch. "I'm sorry. My friend doesn't understand how amazing this is. It's actually a miracle that he decided to be nice enough to call you. He doesn't like being nice to people."

"Don't tell him that," Arthur sniped.

Ariadne ignored him, taking both of Eames's hands in her tiny hands. "These are the hands of a god, I swear. No one plays quite like you do. I'm just… I'm so honored to be in your presence. Like, you can't even imagine how high I am flying just off of pure adrenaline right now. I've dreamed about this kind of stuff happening, but I never thought I'd actually-Oh, this is so cool! I-wow, just wow."

Arthur ran his hand through his hair, clearly embarrassed by her gushing. "I think I'll just… go put some clothes on and leave you to it then. Have fun with all that."

He left them in the living room, shutting the bedroom door behind him and just leaning against it for a long moment. It was quiet in his bedroom, almost eerily still.

"What am I doing?" he mumbled and dropped his robe to the floor. He dug out a pair of navy slacks and a pale blue button-down from his dresser, along with a clean pair of underwear. As he was dressing, he turned to see Eames's sunglasses and hat shoved up against the headboard of his bed, half smashed between two pillows. The blankets were still tossed about haphazardly, and Arthur could swear he could still see the other man's imprint in the sheets. He could definitely see the speckles of dirt that dusted the end of the bed where Eames had slept in his shoes. A slight tilt of his head reminded him that the plastic cup Eames had used for an ashtray on his first day there was still sitting with the ashes inside on his bedside table. Arthur hadn't even thought of throwing it away.

The room even smelled like Eames, a heady scent of sweat and sleep, a hint of cologne that he'd apparently worn so long he smelled like it even when he wasn't wearing any. Arthur couldn't help but just stand there for along moment, letting the smell swirl around him. He couldn't remember his room ever having a smell before Eames.

"This is too much," he sighed, forcing himself to move into the bathroom to slick back his hair.

After all, what the fuck had Eames been intending earlier when he'd been talking so… crazy? He'd wanted to know where they stood, whether it was just sex, wanted to know if Arthur trusted him… Why the hell would he be asking him those things after a few days of fucking around? In fact, how dare he ask him such things? Eames was the one spouting lies at Arthur, the one playing with him by calling him beautiful and talented and acting like he genuinely liked Arthur. Arthur wasn't an idiot. He knew he couldn't possibly mean any of that…

…So why did he have to go and ask those questions and make him feel worse about that?

The sudden sharp pain in Arthur's chest was completely unexpected, and for a moment he had to grip the sink and wait for it to subside. "What the… What's wrong with me?" he asked his reflection but of course it didn't have an answer.

He knew it had been a mistake to give into his weakness.

Weakness always led to failure…

…and he felt like he was most definitely failing now. He had gotten too comfortable, and now his composure was in tatters and Eames was haunting every corner of his mind and he was still suffering from the same problems in his playing as he had been and now people knew that Arthur knew Eames and that meant that it was only a matter of time before the wrong person found out, and then…

Arthur was completely screwed.

He was about to lose a scholarship, a future in a symphony orchestra, and any kind of contact with his family (meaning any amount of money he might have been living off of in the past). One word of him being in a homosexual scandal with a rock star would absolutely devastate the reputation he'd been working very hard to build.

Why the fuck had he given in? He put his whole life on the line for one stupid night of passion, and he'd continued to do so simply because it fucking felt good. He used to be so good at focusing on the task at hand and not getting distracted by pleasures of the flesh. Now he was completely caught up in the ridiculous moments of passion. Sure, it pleased him when they were together, whether they were fucking or talking or playing music, but it didn't used to be about what he wanted. When had he become so selfish?

The worst part was Ariadne was there. It wasn't like Arthur could come storming out of his room and demand that Eames get out of his life so he could regain some semblance of control over it while she was sitting there gushing about his life. It was going to be damned hard to get her to keep her mouth shut about seeing Eames at all. He couldn't even imagine the difficulty it would be to silence her if she found out her best friend had been sleeping with him. Therefore, he couldn't say a fucking thing, and Ariadne surely wasn't going to leave before Eames did.

So… that meant he'd have to go see him again to tell him all of these things, and he wasn't sure if he'd be able to. Time seemed to crumble his resolve as of recently.

Arthur went silently back into the front room to find Eames sitting with his guitar in his lap and Ariadne filming it on her iPhone.

"Ah… this is a new song, and for the record, I'm not much of a singer. Plus, Cobb hasn't quite finished it yet, so it's actually right terrible."

…and then he started to play, and Arthur found that it wasn't just time that was crumbling his resolve.

That tune…

It was nearly identical to the heartbreaking, pathetic display of sadness Arthur had wailed out on his violin that night in Eames's hotel room. It was less rough and less wailing but the feel of it was absolutely the same, every single ounce of every note completely and purely Arthur.

Was this song about him?

"Ah-oh, well," Eames stopped when he botched a note three times in a row. "That's all I've got right now. I guarantee you that when I see Cobb next he'll have some kind of masterpiece prepared."

"That's so beautiful," Ariadne enthused, clearly starstruck. "Arthur, didn't you think-"

Both of them stared at him silently, and it was only afterwards that Arthur realized that he had tears rolling down his face.

"Arthur?" Eames asked quietly.

"I… I have to go…" Arthur said, grabbed his violin case, and was out the door before either of them could even make a move to follow him.

Arthur went to class because there was really nowhere else he could go that Ariadne wouldn't inevitably find him and demand an explanation. He just needed a little bit of time to get his thoughts together so he could at least come up with a semi-not-pathetic excuse for his little breakdown over a stupid song. She wouldn't cause a scene if he was in class, especially since she didn't take the same classes he did (he was never more thankful that she was an architecture major), and the rest of the class generally left him alone for fear he might bruise them with his malicious words. He was sure he was giving off the impression that he wanted to be left alone without even looking at them. He hunched there in his desk and stared at the tabletop, not caring what the teacher was lecturing about since he hadn't brought any of his books or school supplies with him anyway.

Maybe Eames had been wrong, Arthur decided, at least when it came to his music. He'd been perfectly good at playing before Eames came along and claimed that he was boring. Sure, Mal had been particularly complimentary when he'd played the way Eames had suggested, and sure he had felt more joy in playing when it felt like self-exploration than an assignment, but… well, his way was entirely too inconsistent for Arthur's taste. Besides, self-exploration was far too dangerous. Letting his weaknesses show was the absolute best way to have them exploited, and he didn't want that.

He hadn't had any weaknesses that he'd been aware of until Eames came along. Now they were popping up all over the place.

When he got to his afternoon orchestra practice, he played every note in time with the other violinists perfectly and yet felt absolutely nothing. He then proceeded to get into an argument with the second chair viola player and stormed out. By the time the door to the auditorium had shut behind him, he couldn't even remember what he'd been so upset about, couldn't even remember a thing that she had said (or what he had said for that matter), but he'd gone and made her cry. It didn't matter.

He feared Eames would still be at his apartment, so instead of going back he drove to Starkey's and proceeded to start getting gloriously drunk.

He didn't feel a thing.

It's better this way, Arthur thought as he stared down into his fifth glass at his reflection in the liquid. It's safer this way.

It didn't take him long until he was as drunk as he intended, and then he decided he might as well keep going since he was on a roll, and it wasn't like anyone was trying to stop him or that he had anything else to spend his time or money on.

It wasn't until after his tenth beer that he came to the realization that he was there drinking because he was absolutely terrified, and he didn't even know why.

Well, no… that wasn't entirely true, but he certainly wasn't admitting to himself why he was so afraid. Facing Eames was a prospect he wasn't looking forward to, and he knew why, but…

The bartender, Steve, tapped Arthur on the top of the head when he'd been staring down at the counter for a bit longer than necessary. "Don't you think you've had enough?" he asked.

"Fuck you," Arthur growled, holding onto the 'f' for dear life and then finished off his sentence with another swig from his drink.

"Well, I'm not letting you drive out of here like this, Arthur. Come on, give me your keys."

"Who th' fuck said I was even goin' anywhere?" Arthur asked. "Fuck off."

Steve sighed, rolling his eyes, and Arthur momentarily thought that cracking his glass over the top of his head would be nice, but he had a bad feeling his reflexes weren't quite in the state to make the move (that and it'd probably be a regrettable move once he sobered up).

After a while, he forgot to be mad at Steve, since Steve was the only one close enough to talk to. "Hey," he said, waving him over. "Hey… Hey, Steve."

Steve sighed and made his way over, leaning on the bar to listen with a regrettable expression, like Arthur was wasting his time. Arthur momentarily was distracted by the way one of his dreadlocks fell over his eyebrow, and then by the way someone was singing karaoke off-key behind him. "What?"

"You ever been in love?" Arthur asked.

Steve blinked. "Ah… yeah. I'm engaged to my girlfriend Stella, remember?"

"Oh. Um. How… How'd you know?"

"Know what?"

"That Stella was… y'know… the one?"

"You think you might be in love with someone, Artie?"

"Don't-call me that… Don't. I don't like it, but um… I don't know."

"It's Ariadne, isn't it."

Arthur huffed. "Why's everybody-why they gotta say that all the time? No, I don't-I would never be into her. She's my best friend, but I don't feel that way 'bout her, man. Come on…"

"Well, she's the only person you hang out with," Steve replied with a shrug. "What was I supposed to think? I mean, Ariadne's a really pretty girl, and she's smart too, and she actually puts up with you-"

"I'm gay," Arthur replied suddenly.

That threw Steve off for the longest five seconds of Arthur's life. "Whoa, what?" he said.

Arthur really wished he'd gone and buried himself in that hole like he'd wanted to earlier, but he couldn't really go back on it now. "You're the only person I've told," he said instead, shame creeping up the back of his neck.

"O-okay…" Steve said hesitantly and looked around at the mostly empty bar. "Why tell me?"

"I needed to tell someone," Arthur said pathetically. "I can't tell people I'm really close to anything because then I'll just fuck everything up…"

…and then he started to drunkenly cry. He'd been told by Ariadne that he tended to start the waterworks when he was wasted (since he usually only got so on very bad days), but he still felt like he was in the absolute worst place in existence and just wished that he was dead or at least mute. Fuck, why did he say that, he wondered as he wiped at his tears clumsily, his wrist not seeming to find his face quite where he thought it was, because he never cried in public.

"Hey, man, it's okay," Steve said, patting his shoulder. "I ain't gonna judge you or nothing like that. I've got a cousin who's gay, and he's awesome. I'm all about gay rights and all that."

"Fuck, I hate myself," Arthur whimpered, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes and sniffing ungracefully loud. "Why can't things just be like they used t'be? It sucks! I suck!"

"Hey, dude, if this is about telling your folks or whatever-"

"S'not about that," Arthur blubbered. "I'll never tell them… but I… I didn't-I was just fine with what I was doing, and then I went and did something so dumb, and now I don't know how to get myself out of it… I'm so scared… and I don't know what to do…"

"What'd you do that's so bad, huh? You don't have an STD or something, do you?"

Arthur shook his head. "No… no, but I… I like somebody a lot, and I can't… I can't because I know it won't work, and no matter how hard I try t' remind myself that I'm being so goddamned stupid, I can't stop. It's like he's got some kinda control over me, and I can't shake it. I shouldn't even be able to like someone so much after only knowing him for a few days-fuck, I'm so fucking stupid!"

"Aw, man… I don't… I don't know what to-" he cut himself off, and Arthur wondered why until he felt a small hand on his shoulder.

"Arthur? Arthur, hey, it's me," Ariadne said, shaking him gently as if he was asleep and not in pieces. "Come on… you're really drunk. Let's get you out of here, okay?"

Arthur didn't have any fight left in him, so he stumbled off of his stool and slumped along next to her, holding onto her for balance. "I've been looking for you all day, you know," Ariadne explained as they made their way out to the parking lot.

As soon as the cool air hit Arthur's face, he hurled into the bushes until he was sure he would pass out from lack of air, but gradually the nausea subsided, leaving him with a hollow pain throughout his whole body.

"Feel any better?" Ariadne asked, still clutching to his arm with one hand to keep him from falling over into his own sick.

"No…" Arthur moaned, frowning at the ground. "I'm sorry…"

"It's fine," she said, pulling him upright again and slinging his arm around her neck. "What's up with you, Arthur? You have another 'freak out'? You weren't even practicing."

"My violin's still inside," Arthur said pathetically.

"I'll go back and get it once we get in the car. Arthur, what happened? Did that song really have that much of an effect on you or-like, did your grandmother die or something? You've never acted like this before."

"I'm just stressed out," Arthur explained, suddenly exhausted. "What happened after I left?"

"I went looking for you," Ariadne replied flatly. "I told you I've been looking for you all day."

"And Eames?"

"He's in the car."

Arthur staggered, nearly sending them both toppling to the ground. "What?" he managed.

"He said he felt like he caused you to get upset, so he decided to help me find you. We've been talking about so much stuff, Arthur, and he's even cooler than I thought he was. He said he might even be able to get me backstage for the S.O.S. thing. How cool is that?"

Arthur groaned because he could see Eames now, slouched in the passenger seat of Ariadne's car with a cigarette burning from between his fingers. "I can't believe you've been dragging him around with you. What if the paparazzi got a picture of you?"

"You think I'd be bothered by that?" Ariadne snorted, pulling open the door to the backseat. "Sit down. I'll be right back. If you need to hurl again, please open the door and do it on the asphalt."

Arthur made a noise to show her that he understood but didn't have to like it, and then she went strolling back to the bar.

"Steve's gonna tell her all the things I said," Arthur said, pressing his forehead to the back of Eames's seat. "Fuck…"

"What did I do to upset you?" Eames asked, adjusting himself so that he could look over the shoulder of the seat at Arthur. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

Arthur leaned back from the cushion to make eye contact with Eames, too drunk to care that his eyes were still wet and that his mouth tasted like vomit. "You didn't do anything. It's all my fault," Arthur said.

"You ran out when I played that song. Clearly it was something I did," Eames said, apparently refusing to believe that he didn't have a part in Arthur's sudden breakdown, and really it wasn't like he didn't.

Arthur swallowed thickly before asking, "That song… was it… was it about me?"

"Well, ah-Cobb writes the words, so I'm assuming it's about Mal or-"

"No… not the words. The tune… the tune sounded like that song I played that night. You know what I'm talking about…"

"I… suppose you could say I was inspired by it, yes. I told you that I thought it was beautiful. I did change it up though-I mean, I didn't want to steal anything from you, and naturally I'd have to play it differently on the guitar."

Arthur wiped his upper lip with the back of his hand and sniffled. "I can't keep doing this…" he said weakly.

"Doing what, darling?" Eames asked, but by the look on his face he had an idea.

"This…" Arthur said, snorting bitterly. "It's… It's getting too serious, and it's only been a couple of days, and I can't just… It's fucking up everything. I'm turning into a nervous wreck, and I'm always distracted by thoughts of you and wondering what's going on with us, even though I know. You really fucked with me when you started asking me those questions this morning. It was like you were mocking me…"

"Mocking you? How the bloody hell was I mocking you?" Eames asked.

Arthur looked away from him, deciding that the few cars in the parking lot in the fading twilight were much easier to stare at as he admitted, barely above a whisper, "I… I know you don't mean all that stuff you said about me."

"What stuff are you referring to?" Eames asked, going nearly as quiet as Arthur.

"You know… the stuff-the stuff about me being beautiful and being a great singer and being the best violinist in the world, all those pet names and smiles and sweet things… You're just saying that because I'm sleeping with you. When these few weeks are over, you'll run off and do the same thing to other guys, and I'll never see you again…"

There was that pain in Arthur's heart again, only this time it was magnified twentyfold.

"Do you… Do you really think that low of me, Arthur?" Eames asked, and the hurt in his voice was strong enough to add another ton onto the weight of his grief. "I'm insulted."

"W-well, I…"

"Arthur. Look at me."

Arthur did, and he could feel his lip trembling as fresh tears sprang forth to his eyes. "What?" he asked, voice breaking.

"I never lied to you," Eames said sternly. "Never."

Arthur sniffed again. "How do I know you're not lying now-"

"I think I might love you," Eames interrupted.

Arthur's mouth clamped shut.

"I know…" Eames said when all he got was a blank stare from Arthur. "I know it's barmy, absolutely, but I am being completely honest here when I tell you that I've never felt the way I do about you. Maybe it's because you're a twat, maybe it's because you're so indescribably fantastic at everything you set your mind to, maybe it's the way I feel like you save just one smile for me even when you have a shitty day, I don't know, and… yes, I know it's only been a few days, and it sounds bloody ridiculous, but-"

Arthur continued to stare, so Eames took a moment to gather his thoughts, glancing around to see if Ariadne was returning. She wasn't, so clearly she must have been talking to this Steve guy Arthur had mentioned.

He exhaled. "You said that I just needed to get to know you better, and then I'd stop liking you, but I've got to tell you, darling, I think I know you better than you do… and I still like everything about you, even the right terrible parts… This morning I-I really thought it was going to fall apart because I could tell you were trying to find reasons to hate me, so I thought I'd go ahead and give you a reason. I'm too forward with my feelings, and I'm too famous, and if you mean it when you say you can't do this, stop it for those reasons and not because you think you're not as fucking gorgeous as you actually are."

Arthur didn't care that they were in Ariadne's car or that they were in public where people could quite possibly see them. He didn't care that he was drunk and tasted of vomit and tears and that he was probably and ugly mess because of it. He didn't care that the position was awkward.

He leaned in and kissed Eames because he just couldn't help himself.

He was weak, and he knew it, but he'd come to the conclusion that there was really no helping it now. He'd been ensnared in Eames's web, and he could either struggle until he got more tangled or just sit back and allow himself to be eaten. Either way, he wasn't going to escape.

Eames's tongue slipped over Arthur's, and Arthur felt his hand come up to rest with his thumb just behind his ear, pulling Arthur deeper into the kiss as if he couldn't get enough of tasting him, and Eames was right. This was crazy.

…and he was inclined to agree with everything else Eames had said too.

He whimpered into Eames's lips and pulled away for air before diving back in, and he didn't care that there were tears on his face. The only thing he cared about was Eames and his mouth and his hands clutching each side of his face, and if there hadn't been a seat between the two of them, Arthur was sure things would be spiraling more and more out of control…

…but most definitely this kiss was not like their previous ones. This kiss was not like any kiss Arthur had experienced (and admittedly, he hadn't experienced all that many). This kiss was emotional. It was as if Arthur could taste every single one of Eames's feelings and that Eames could do the same, like they were reading each other with their tongues somehow. It was absolutely the most glorious feeling Arthur had ever felt, and he couldn't believe he'd been missing out on such a magnificent spark of feeling. It made him want to sing and play music into all hours of the night, to smell and hear and see things like he hadn't in the past, to touch and feel Eames as if he were someone new because he was. The kiss was different because the dynamic had shifted and Arthur regretted every ounce of hesitation on his part.

He'd been told once that the best way to learn how to swim was to jump right in.

He was pretty sure this qualified as 'jumping in', but he wasn't worried. All the fears and turmoil had been shoved to the side because all that mattered to him was this exact moment.

He never wanted it to end, but eventually he had to break for air again, and this time they were both just gasping into each other's mouths as if they could share the same oxygen and never be separated by anything…

…and Arthur could swear that the whole world had become more colorful, like he'd stepped out of Kansas into the land of Oz, and everything was rich and beautiful and perfect in the cheesiest, most wonderful way…

The neon sign of Starkey's was beautiful and green.

The faded asphalt looked nearly purple, the lines gleaming bright white and yellow.

The sky was a deep pink, red, orange, and violet, blinking stars glittering as bright as sunlight.

Ariadne was as red as a lobster.

…wait, Ariadne?

Arthur made eye contact with her, but she just continued to stare slack-jawed from the driver's side window, violin case still clutched tightly in both hands.

"Oh, my, seems we forgot about her, yeah?" Eames asked against the skin of Arthur's cheek.

All Arthur could think to say was, "seems so…"

"What. The. Fuck?" Ariadne shouted.

"Um…" Arthur said as she flung open the door. "I can explain this. I'm pretty sure I can explain this."

"I suppose we could start off with a simple, yet effective 'surprise!' declaration, correct? That would suffice, wouldn't it?" Eames offered, and really how could he tease at a time like this?

"You-and-and you-I… What? Seriously, what?" Ariadne eloquently replied, looking from one man to the other while possibly doing some sort of equation in her head to figure out what kind of alternate universe she'd just stepped into.

"Look, if you just drive us back to Arthur's, I'll explain everything to you, savvy?" Eames offered. "I'm sorry we haven't been completely honest with you, but staying here too long is a bit dangerous for all of us."

"I… I just… O-okay," Ariadne said, sitting in her seat and handing over the violin case.

Arthur sank back into the backseat, swallowing thickly, and oddly enough he still couldn't help but smile even though they'd been caught. He figured once the pheromones and alcohol wore off he'd realize the seriousness of the situation but for now…

…well, for now, he was perfectly content with watching the blush on both Ariadne and Eames's necks.

FEELINGS FEELINGS EVERYWHERE

IT'S SO FLUFFY I THINK I'M GONNA DIE