Inception: love you like a love song (4/?)
love you like a love song (4/?)
inception: arthur/eames
pg, 2427 words
AU. In which Arthur is a university student, and Eames is that really famous actor who happens to be starting at the same university.
previously!
~
The next two weeks are quiet.
Despite his full calendar, Arthur's not an overly social person, and even though he has a lot of acquaintances, he only has a few close friends. Before Eames had showed up and started barging in on him every time he had a break, things had been pretty uneventful - and it goes back to being that way now that Eames leaves him alone.
Ariadne's expressions keep alternating between mild reproach or vague concern around him, both of which Arthur valiantly ignores.
It's not a bad thing, he reminds himself. He has so much work to do, and it's a good thing that he has more time. Midterm period is almost upon them, and clubs have mostly put events on hold. Even the dance club is taking a two-week break to give everyone a chance to cram, although certain rooms have been booked for a few hours each day for anyone who wants to practice.
Arthur studies, sleeps, studies, occasionally eats (when Ariadne nags at him), and studies some more until it feels like his head is going to explode. And then he drags himself over to the dance club to take his mind off things.
Today, the practice rooms seem to be empty except for Dom, one of the dance club executives whom Arthur is tentatively friends with. Smiling a little, Arthur is about go in with a greeting on his lips when he suddenly catches sight of Eames as well, standing at the back and nearly blending into the shadows of the room. Arthur can't help but think that the bags under Eames' eyes area little heavier than usual, but that might just a trick of the light. Changing course abruptly, some impulse sends Arthur ducking to the side of the doors instead, so that he has an uninterrupted view while he himself stays hidden.
"When you want to open out to fan, you have to change your hold before the end of the basic steps so that the girl knows you're going into fan next," Dom is saying as he makes vaguely incomprehensible gestures in the air. Arthur watches him demonstrate, his reflection visible in the floor-to-ceiling mirrors along one of the walls. "Usually, you follow the fan with the hockey stick, and then back to natural top - that's the routine Mal's been doing - but there's some variations you can do as well."
Eames repeats the steps, brows furrowed in concentration as he occasionally asks a question about the feet positioning, and Arthur watches with an increasing sense of shame as he realizes that Dom is walking Eames through the cha cha steps. Apparently, Eames had been serious about needing some help after all, and it hadn't just been an excuse to irritate Arthur some more as he'd automatically assumed.
It's not always about you.
He watches Eames repeat the steps a few more times before forcing himself to step away from the doors. Ducking into the washroom a few doors down, Arthur splashes some water on his face and straightens his shirt. His face looks strangely pale in the mirror, but otherwise he looks normal, not confused and uncertain and guilty like he feels.
What else had he been wrong about?
He needs to talk to Eames, Arthur thinks.
The problem is, now that he's actively looking for the other boy, Eames is nowhere to be found. Arthur doesn't see him in the student union building, or during lunch, or even back at the dorms. (Arthur had even tried knocking on his door once, but no one had answered.) The only time he has caught a glimpse of Eames is in dance class, and even then, Eames always just happens to be on the opposite side of the room as him. He's always laughing and joking with his dance partners, never sparing Arthur a glance.
Which is why when Arthur dashes out of his room one morning for the elevator - he's got the binders he's still trying to shove into his bag in one hand and his study notes in the other - and sees that Eames is already in it, he freezes.
Eames must misinterpret his shock, because he snorts. "Don't worry, I don't have anything catching," he says, shifting over to make room for Arthur to squeeze in next to him, and Arthur wants to explain or apologize or something, but he doesn't know how to start.
"What?" Eames asks, when Arthur continues to stare at him with his half-mouth open.
"I just. Um. I wanted to ask if you wanted to practice your cha cha some time," Arthur manages to stutter out awkwardly. His face burns immediately after, because of all the things he could've said, couldn't he have come up with something less embarrassing?
Eames looks surprised for a split second before his expression goes blank. "There's no need to take up your time - I'm sure I'll manage on my own."
"Oh. Okay," Arthur says on autopilot. And then the elevator door opens on the first floor and Eames is gone.
He barely pays attention during Econ. Afterward, Arthur walks numbly to his usual table behind the cafeteria. "I think I screwed up," he says when he finds Ariadne there, and let's her fold him into a hug.
"What you have to do, is try again," Ariadne declares later as she scoops a spoonful of frozen yogurt from the small tub in her hands and brings it to her mouth.
"I know, but how?" Arthur buries his face in his hands. "He hates me right now. Besides, you think I haven't been trying to talk to him? I can't find him anywhere though - it's like he just disappears whenever we're not in dance class."
"Then just talk to him in dance."
"I don't know if I can," Arthur admits. "
"Oh, so you're just going to quit?" Ariadne's single raised eyebrow is quite impressive.
"No, of course not, but I -"
"Good," Ariadne says in satisfaction. "No buts, Arthur! Don't over-think it."
Arthur sighs. If only it was so simple.
As it turns out though, opportunity strikes faster than Arthur would have expected.
"I'm sorry, Eames, but I can't right now - I have an appointment in twenty minutes," Mal is saying just as Arthur walks by at the end of class. "Do you want to come to class a little earlier next time? I'll show you the whole sequence then."
"Can I make an appointment with you another time?" Eames says with a small frown. "My theatre class runs until right before dance starts."
Arthur wasn't planning to stop, but some impulse has him turning so that he's facing Eames and Mal instead of heading to the door. "I can help Eames with whatever he needs," he blurts out, before he can think too closely about what he's doing. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Ariadne give him an approving nod before leaving.
He sneaks a cautious glance at Eames, who doesn't look too pleased at his offer.
Mal, on the other hand, brightens immediately. "Oh, that's a wonderful idea! You don't mind if Arthur shows you instead, Eames, do you?"
For a long second, Eames looks like he might back out after all - but then he gives an almost inaudible sigh and a small nod instead. "Of course not," he says, and he sounds more reserved than Arthur has ever heard him, but at least it's not a refusal.
"When do you have free time?" Arthur asks as he follows Eames out the building. "I have class until five every day, debate from 8 to 10 on Mondays, and USoc meetings every other week, but I have breaks, and I have some free time on weekends-"
"Tomorrow at seven?" Eames interrupts abruptly.
"Yeah, that's fine," Arthur says, trying to keep his relief from showing. "I'll meet you in the practice rooms?"
Eames nods and walks off before Arthur can say anything else.
It doesn't end up being as awkward as Arthur had feared. Eames is quiet and tense, but as Arthur demonstrates the foxtrot routine, he follows along without any obvious signs of anger or annoyance. Before he knows it, an hour has passed, and Eames is helping him lock up the CD player in the cupboard.
Because Eames hadn't been overly hostile all evening, Arthur takes a chance. "Do you want to meet again next week?" he asks after a fortifying breath. "I- we could go over some cha cha, if you want. Or if you're okay with that already, we can review tango or rumba or something." He pauses for a second to gauge Eames' response, but Eames' expression is entirely blank and Arthur finds himself continuing before he can think about what he's saying. "That is, unless you're busy. I mean, we can switch to another time if you want, or we could just ... well, we don't have to meet or anything, obviously -"
"Arthur," Eames says finally, cutting him off. "Stop. Just, stop talking for a second."
"Okay," Arthur mumbles. He can feel himself starting to turn red. God, why could he never keep his mouth shut when it mattered?
"Just tell me one thing. Why are you doing this?"
"Um, what do you mean?" Arthur asks.
"It's obvious that you don't want anything to do with me. So why are you offering? What's in it for you?"
"What? No! I'm not doing this to get any-" Arthur stops and makes himself take a deep breath. In for a penny, in for a pound. "Look, Eames. The truth is, I know I didn't give you a chance before. I was wrong, and I'm sorry about everything. I just want to make it up to you."
Eames sighs, and he pinches the bridge of his nose as if he has a headache. His expression is tired when he replies. "That's very nice of you and all, but you don't get to just decide that whenever you feel like it, Arthur."
"I'm not deciding - I'm asking," Arthur says quickly. "I was wrong. Will you let me make it up to you?"
Eames looks at him contemplatively, as if Arthur is a puzzle he doesn't know how to solve. "Okay," he says finally, his voice quiet. "We can meet next week if you want."
Arthur gives him a tentative smile, and feels something lift in his chest when Eames inclines his head in response.
Next week, they go over tango. Waltz the week after, and pasodoble the week after that. Arthur knows that it would make sense to invite Ariadne some time - after all, with ballroom dancing, there's only so much they can do to practice without a partner - but he keeps putting it off. Hardly anyone else comes by to practice at this time, and as strange as it sounds, he likes being able to spend time alone with Eames every week. Their friendship is still tentative, he knows, but he thinks Eames is relaxing a little more each time. He'd even teased Arthur once last week, when Arthur had insisted on drilling one sequence over and over after making a minor mistake the first time.
It feels like they're making progress - on both improving their steps and resolving their issues.
"Want to grab some dinner?" Arthur asks on impulse as they're leaving one week.
"Sure," Eames says after a brief pause, and Arthur can't help but smile. Eames chooses the place, and they end up in one of the small, mostly-empty restaurants in the basement of the student union building. Arthur has never actually eaten at any of the on-campus restaurants before, not when a meal would cost twice as much here than in the cafeteria upstairs, but he figures once or twice wouldn't hurt.
"I don't eat in the cafeteria much - too many people," Eames says, as if sensing his thoughts. "People come around with cameras and I end up not being able to eat. This place is nice though, and there's not as many students."
It was true. The only other diners were two middle-aged women who looked like professors and a handful of grad students on the other side of the room. No one gave them a second glance as they were seated.
They talk aimlessly until the food comes. Arthur finds out that Eames is part of the drama club, and that they're putting on Romeo and Juliet for charity for Christmas.
"Not exactly the most cheerful play, I know, but they alternate between comedies and tragedies, and they did a comedy last year, " Eames explains.
The food arrives then and they both dive in. Arthur hums appreciatively as he takes a bite of his jambalaya rice bowl, deciding right then and there that the extra cost is totally worth it.
"Good?" Eames asks with a laugh, taking a bite of his own Cajun chicken burger.
Arthur nods, suddenly realizing that he's starving.
It's dark by the time they get out. The wind is chilly, and Arthur pulls his jacket tighter around himself as they walk back to the dorms.
"Don't you have a scarf or something?" Eames asks.
"I lost mine last winter and never ended up getting another one," Arthur says, trying not to shiver. Eames looks warm in his big puffy jacket, he thinks enviously. "Come on, let's walk faster."
He breathes a sigh of relief as the dorm building comes into sight. "Thanks," he says gratefully when Eames pulls open the door for him, and blows on his fingers while waiting for the elevator.
"Well, good night then," Arthur says when they finally get up to the fourth floor. His hands have warmed up enough that he can feel his fingers again.
"Wait," Eames says as Arthur is digging his keys out of his pocket.
"Yeah?"
"I - my friend's throwing a party this weekend. Saturday. You want to come along?"
"Um, sure," Arthur replies, surprised. This is the first time Eames' invited him anywhere since they started going over dance every week.
"Great. I'll let you know the time later," Eames says. He smiles suddenly, eyes crinkling, and it's not the tentative smiles Arthur has gotten used to the last few weeks, but one of those 100-watt ones that Arthur hasn't seen directed at him since he'd first met Eames.
"Good night, Arthur."
Arthur gives him a small nod in return, and feels the flutter of something foreign in the pit of his stomach.
~
tbc.
inception: arthur/eames
pg, 2427 words
AU. In which Arthur is a university student, and Eames is that really famous actor who happens to be starting at the same university.
previously!
~
The next two weeks are quiet.
Despite his full calendar, Arthur's not an overly social person, and even though he has a lot of acquaintances, he only has a few close friends. Before Eames had showed up and started barging in on him every time he had a break, things had been pretty uneventful - and it goes back to being that way now that Eames leaves him alone.
Ariadne's expressions keep alternating between mild reproach or vague concern around him, both of which Arthur valiantly ignores.
It's not a bad thing, he reminds himself. He has so much work to do, and it's a good thing that he has more time. Midterm period is almost upon them, and clubs have mostly put events on hold. Even the dance club is taking a two-week break to give everyone a chance to cram, although certain rooms have been booked for a few hours each day for anyone who wants to practice.
Arthur studies, sleeps, studies, occasionally eats (when Ariadne nags at him), and studies some more until it feels like his head is going to explode. And then he drags himself over to the dance club to take his mind off things.
Today, the practice rooms seem to be empty except for Dom, one of the dance club executives whom Arthur is tentatively friends with. Smiling a little, Arthur is about go in with a greeting on his lips when he suddenly catches sight of Eames as well, standing at the back and nearly blending into the shadows of the room. Arthur can't help but think that the bags under Eames' eyes area little heavier than usual, but that might just a trick of the light. Changing course abruptly, some impulse sends Arthur ducking to the side of the doors instead, so that he has an uninterrupted view while he himself stays hidden.
"When you want to open out to fan, you have to change your hold before the end of the basic steps so that the girl knows you're going into fan next," Dom is saying as he makes vaguely incomprehensible gestures in the air. Arthur watches him demonstrate, his reflection visible in the floor-to-ceiling mirrors along one of the walls. "Usually, you follow the fan with the hockey stick, and then back to natural top - that's the routine Mal's been doing - but there's some variations you can do as well."
Eames repeats the steps, brows furrowed in concentration as he occasionally asks a question about the feet positioning, and Arthur watches with an increasing sense of shame as he realizes that Dom is walking Eames through the cha cha steps. Apparently, Eames had been serious about needing some help after all, and it hadn't just been an excuse to irritate Arthur some more as he'd automatically assumed.
It's not always about you.
He watches Eames repeat the steps a few more times before forcing himself to step away from the doors. Ducking into the washroom a few doors down, Arthur splashes some water on his face and straightens his shirt. His face looks strangely pale in the mirror, but otherwise he looks normal, not confused and uncertain and guilty like he feels.
What else had he been wrong about?
He needs to talk to Eames, Arthur thinks.
The problem is, now that he's actively looking for the other boy, Eames is nowhere to be found. Arthur doesn't see him in the student union building, or during lunch, or even back at the dorms. (Arthur had even tried knocking on his door once, but no one had answered.) The only time he has caught a glimpse of Eames is in dance class, and even then, Eames always just happens to be on the opposite side of the room as him. He's always laughing and joking with his dance partners, never sparing Arthur a glance.
Which is why when Arthur dashes out of his room one morning for the elevator - he's got the binders he's still trying to shove into his bag in one hand and his study notes in the other - and sees that Eames is already in it, he freezes.
Eames must misinterpret his shock, because he snorts. "Don't worry, I don't have anything catching," he says, shifting over to make room for Arthur to squeeze in next to him, and Arthur wants to explain or apologize or something, but he doesn't know how to start.
"What?" Eames asks, when Arthur continues to stare at him with his half-mouth open.
"I just. Um. I wanted to ask if you wanted to practice your cha cha some time," Arthur manages to stutter out awkwardly. His face burns immediately after, because of all the things he could've said, couldn't he have come up with something less embarrassing?
Eames looks surprised for a split second before his expression goes blank. "There's no need to take up your time - I'm sure I'll manage on my own."
"Oh. Okay," Arthur says on autopilot. And then the elevator door opens on the first floor and Eames is gone.
He barely pays attention during Econ. Afterward, Arthur walks numbly to his usual table behind the cafeteria. "I think I screwed up," he says when he finds Ariadne there, and let's her fold him into a hug.
"What you have to do, is try again," Ariadne declares later as she scoops a spoonful of frozen yogurt from the small tub in her hands and brings it to her mouth.
"I know, but how?" Arthur buries his face in his hands. "He hates me right now. Besides, you think I haven't been trying to talk to him? I can't find him anywhere though - it's like he just disappears whenever we're not in dance class."
"Then just talk to him in dance."
"I don't know if I can," Arthur admits. "
"Oh, so you're just going to quit?" Ariadne's single raised eyebrow is quite impressive.
"No, of course not, but I -"
"Good," Ariadne says in satisfaction. "No buts, Arthur! Don't over-think it."
Arthur sighs. If only it was so simple.
As it turns out though, opportunity strikes faster than Arthur would have expected.
"I'm sorry, Eames, but I can't right now - I have an appointment in twenty minutes," Mal is saying just as Arthur walks by at the end of class. "Do you want to come to class a little earlier next time? I'll show you the whole sequence then."
"Can I make an appointment with you another time?" Eames says with a small frown. "My theatre class runs until right before dance starts."
Arthur wasn't planning to stop, but some impulse has him turning so that he's facing Eames and Mal instead of heading to the door. "I can help Eames with whatever he needs," he blurts out, before he can think too closely about what he's doing. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Ariadne give him an approving nod before leaving.
He sneaks a cautious glance at Eames, who doesn't look too pleased at his offer.
Mal, on the other hand, brightens immediately. "Oh, that's a wonderful idea! You don't mind if Arthur shows you instead, Eames, do you?"
For a long second, Eames looks like he might back out after all - but then he gives an almost inaudible sigh and a small nod instead. "Of course not," he says, and he sounds more reserved than Arthur has ever heard him, but at least it's not a refusal.
"When do you have free time?" Arthur asks as he follows Eames out the building. "I have class until five every day, debate from 8 to 10 on Mondays, and USoc meetings every other week, but I have breaks, and I have some free time on weekends-"
"Tomorrow at seven?" Eames interrupts abruptly.
"Yeah, that's fine," Arthur says, trying to keep his relief from showing. "I'll meet you in the practice rooms?"
Eames nods and walks off before Arthur can say anything else.
It doesn't end up being as awkward as Arthur had feared. Eames is quiet and tense, but as Arthur demonstrates the foxtrot routine, he follows along without any obvious signs of anger or annoyance. Before he knows it, an hour has passed, and Eames is helping him lock up the CD player in the cupboard.
Because Eames hadn't been overly hostile all evening, Arthur takes a chance. "Do you want to meet again next week?" he asks after a fortifying breath. "I- we could go over some cha cha, if you want. Or if you're okay with that already, we can review tango or rumba or something." He pauses for a second to gauge Eames' response, but Eames' expression is entirely blank and Arthur finds himself continuing before he can think about what he's saying. "That is, unless you're busy. I mean, we can switch to another time if you want, or we could just ... well, we don't have to meet or anything, obviously -"
"Arthur," Eames says finally, cutting him off. "Stop. Just, stop talking for a second."
"Okay," Arthur mumbles. He can feel himself starting to turn red. God, why could he never keep his mouth shut when it mattered?
"Just tell me one thing. Why are you doing this?"
"Um, what do you mean?" Arthur asks.
"It's obvious that you don't want anything to do with me. So why are you offering? What's in it for you?"
"What? No! I'm not doing this to get any-" Arthur stops and makes himself take a deep breath. In for a penny, in for a pound. "Look, Eames. The truth is, I know I didn't give you a chance before. I was wrong, and I'm sorry about everything. I just want to make it up to you."
Eames sighs, and he pinches the bridge of his nose as if he has a headache. His expression is tired when he replies. "That's very nice of you and all, but you don't get to just decide that whenever you feel like it, Arthur."
"I'm not deciding - I'm asking," Arthur says quickly. "I was wrong. Will you let me make it up to you?"
Eames looks at him contemplatively, as if Arthur is a puzzle he doesn't know how to solve. "Okay," he says finally, his voice quiet. "We can meet next week if you want."
Arthur gives him a tentative smile, and feels something lift in his chest when Eames inclines his head in response.
Next week, they go over tango. Waltz the week after, and pasodoble the week after that. Arthur knows that it would make sense to invite Ariadne some time - after all, with ballroom dancing, there's only so much they can do to practice without a partner - but he keeps putting it off. Hardly anyone else comes by to practice at this time, and as strange as it sounds, he likes being able to spend time alone with Eames every week. Their friendship is still tentative, he knows, but he thinks Eames is relaxing a little more each time. He'd even teased Arthur once last week, when Arthur had insisted on drilling one sequence over and over after making a minor mistake the first time.
It feels like they're making progress - on both improving their steps and resolving their issues.
"Want to grab some dinner?" Arthur asks on impulse as they're leaving one week.
"Sure," Eames says after a brief pause, and Arthur can't help but smile. Eames chooses the place, and they end up in one of the small, mostly-empty restaurants in the basement of the student union building. Arthur has never actually eaten at any of the on-campus restaurants before, not when a meal would cost twice as much here than in the cafeteria upstairs, but he figures once or twice wouldn't hurt.
"I don't eat in the cafeteria much - too many people," Eames says, as if sensing his thoughts. "People come around with cameras and I end up not being able to eat. This place is nice though, and there's not as many students."
It was true. The only other diners were two middle-aged women who looked like professors and a handful of grad students on the other side of the room. No one gave them a second glance as they were seated.
They talk aimlessly until the food comes. Arthur finds out that Eames is part of the drama club, and that they're putting on Romeo and Juliet for charity for Christmas.
"Not exactly the most cheerful play, I know, but they alternate between comedies and tragedies, and they did a comedy last year, " Eames explains.
The food arrives then and they both dive in. Arthur hums appreciatively as he takes a bite of his jambalaya rice bowl, deciding right then and there that the extra cost is totally worth it.
"Good?" Eames asks with a laugh, taking a bite of his own Cajun chicken burger.
Arthur nods, suddenly realizing that he's starving.
It's dark by the time they get out. The wind is chilly, and Arthur pulls his jacket tighter around himself as they walk back to the dorms.
"Don't you have a scarf or something?" Eames asks.
"I lost mine last winter and never ended up getting another one," Arthur says, trying not to shiver. Eames looks warm in his big puffy jacket, he thinks enviously. "Come on, let's walk faster."
He breathes a sigh of relief as the dorm building comes into sight. "Thanks," he says gratefully when Eames pulls open the door for him, and blows on his fingers while waiting for the elevator.
"Well, good night then," Arthur says when they finally get up to the fourth floor. His hands have warmed up enough that he can feel his fingers again.
"Wait," Eames says as Arthur is digging his keys out of his pocket.
"Yeah?"
"I - my friend's throwing a party this weekend. Saturday. You want to come along?"
"Um, sure," Arthur replies, surprised. This is the first time Eames' invited him anywhere since they started going over dance every week.
"Great. I'll let you know the time later," Eames says. He smiles suddenly, eyes crinkling, and it's not the tentative smiles Arthur has gotten used to the last few weeks, but one of those 100-watt ones that Arthur hasn't seen directed at him since he'd first met Eames.
"Good night, Arthur."
Arthur gives him a small nod in return, and feels the flutter of something foreign in the pit of his stomach.
~
tbc.