Fic: Deception (A Cinderella AU) (2/5) (Inception, Arthur/Eames, PG-13)
Title: Deception (A Cinderella AU)
Rating: PG-13
Genre: High school AU
Warnings: Some strong language, unbetad
Word count: ~4500 (this part) / ~21000 (whole story)
Summary: A high school Cinderella AU, with Eames as the ugly duckling that transforms into a beautiful swan and Arthur as his well-dressed Prince Charming.
Disclaimer: The characters do not belong to me, but to the amazing Mr Nolan. I've just borrowed them for a while.
Author's Notes: So I forgot that today was Sunday. That was a rather pleasant surprise. It also meant that I had more time today than I had thought, so I was able to edit and post this sooner than expected. I may even have time to post the next part as well today. We'll see!
One of the lovely people who commented on the previous part made me remember more of the original prompt that inspied this, which asked for Mal as the fairy godmother and Eames "uglifying" (my word) himself with his clothes, glasses and hairstyle. I really do need to try to find the prompt, so I can give the person who wrote it proper credit. This whole stealing their idea really doesn't sit well with me! I guess it's lucky I'll never be an extractor. :-P
Part One - Eames
Part Two - Arthur
Arthur was standing on the grand porch of his parent's mansion-like villa, looking out at the crowd that milled about on the well-kept lawn like a horde of buffaloes, trampling down the grass. His dad was going to kill him when he got back. Well, maybe not kill him, but he'd definitely have a lot of explaining to do and he'd probably be grounded for a month. Normally a party like this would be worth it - the night was still young, but it was already being declared the party of the year - but tonight, Arthur wasn't sure. Everyone else seemed to be enjoying themselves, but for some reason, he couldn't get in the mood.
He had tried getting drunk, but even that had seemed to require too much effort and far from improving his mood, it had only plunged him further into what could only be described as a fit of sullenness, so he had quickly given up on that attempt. Dancing wasn't his thing and none of the conversations he'd overheard had been interesting enough to draw him in. He was feeling bored and jaded and longing for either true solitude or some stimulating company, neither of which he was likely to find tonight.
He had to admit that part of his problem was undoubtedly the desertion of his best friends. He knew that they were around somewhere, since they'd spent the afternoon together, but as soon as other people had begun arriving, they had both vanished into the crowd. Dom had been the first to disappear, undoubtedly in search of Mal, and shortly afterwards, Robert had been dragged off by Ariadne, leaving Arthur on his own, feeling lost and isolated in his own home. The three of them had always been inseperable, ever since their parents had more or less forced them together as children, but lately, the dynamics had changed and they were seeing far less of each other.
Arthur couldn't exactly blame his friends. Dom had been in love with Mal for ages and it was obvious that she felt the same. They were like two halves of a whole finally coming together and seeing them apart made them seem incomplete. Robert and Ariadne didn't quite have the same feeling of destiny about them, but there was a quiet glow of contentment that surrounded them when they were together and Arthur couldn't recall ever seeing Robert so relaxed. Even his frequent fights with his overbearing father seemed to faze him less. Arthur was happy for him, truly he was, just as he was happy for Dom. He just couldn't help the feeling of abandonment he was experiencing at being left behind, nor could he help being jealous of his friends' happiness.
In the end, that’s what it all came down to. Arthur was jealous of his friends and although he hated himself for it, he was a bit resentful of their happiness. It hurt to always be the fifth wheel, to be the one sitting on the sidelines, looking in. He wanted so badly to have someone for himself and to experience what his friends had. The trouble was that there wasn't much chance of that happening.
He let his eyes travel across the crowd, searching, without finding, for a face on which to linger. It wasn't as if there were no volunteers. Arthur was rich, good-looking and intelligent. He and his friends were considered the height of cool and many of their schoolmates were willing to do anything to become part of their clique. He had had his fair shares of offers, a few of which he had accepted, but only briefly. He wasn't just looking for anyone; he was looking for the one. And the only one ever to have caught Arthur's eye was one of the few that seemed immune to his charms.
With a sigh, he straightened from where he had been leaning against the railings and turned around to go inside. Instead, he found himself almost colliding with Andrew Nash and his older brother Peter Browning. Arthur suppressed a groan. Think of the devil... Nash was one of his most eager volunteers and also one of the least tempting. His manners were as greasy as his hair, his sense of humour was incomprehensible at best and he seemed to think that copying off Arthur's test papers was an acceptable form of flirting. There were also other, more personal reasons for Arthur's distaste, but he'd rather not think of those tonight.
"Arthur," Nash was saying enthusiastically, in a way that made it clear he'd been looking for him. "Awsome party, man! People'll be talking about this one."
Arthur forced a smile. He didn't even try to make it genuine.
"I'm glad you're enjoying it, Nash," he said, then nodded at the silent boy standing behind Nash. "Peter. I thought you were away at college."
"I'm back for the weekend," Peter said. "Where's Robert?"
Arthur shrugged. He was suddenly glad that Robert wasn't with him. For some reason, Peter had appointed himself Robert's guardian, ever since he'd stopped some of his classmates from stealing Robert's lunch when they were children. Arthur knew that Robert wasn't too fond of Peter's company, but he was too kind to say anything and so Peter continued to believe that his interest was appreciated.
"He's with Ariadne," Arthur replied. "I think they're around somewhere."
Peter blinked and frowned.
"Ariadne?" he repeated. "I thought Robert agreed with me and his father that she isn't appropriate company for the future leader of Fischer Morrow."
Arthur didn't bother to reply. Instead he said,
"I need to find Dom. You guys have a fun evening!"
With that, he pushed past the brothers, ignoring Nash's disappointed confusion and Peter's stern disapproval, and went in search of his best friend.
*****
It wasn't as difficult as he'd feared to find Dom. He was in the living room, standing in the middle of the impromptu dance floor that had appeared there, doing something that only vaguely resembled dancing. Mal was next to him, her head thrown back in laughter as she tried to control Dom’s movements with her hands and her body.
Another boy was dancing beside them. He was far better at it than Dom, his body moving in a way that was both fluid and rhythmic at the same time. His back was to Arthur, so all he could see was a head of soft-looking hair held back by a headband and a pair of broad shoulders above a frankly perfect behind. Still, there were plenty of sexy bodies around, so he was at a loss to explain the sudden thrill that ran through his body as he made his way towards his friends.
Mal saw him first and her beautiful face split in a huge smile. Seeing her open affection for him always made Arthur feel even more guilty over his petty jealousy. He knew that he was lucky that both his friends had fallen for girls that he got along with so well and who were both so eager to ensure that he never felt excluded.
"Arthur!" Mal exclaimed, letting go of Dom so she could kiss his cheeks. "We were wondering where you'd disappeared to. Viens, mon cher! Dance with us."
Arthur shook his head, smiling.
“I don’t dance, Mal," he told her.
“Nonsense," she said. “Neither does Dom and look at him now. You can hardly tell me you’d be worse at it.”
Arthur looked at his best friend, who was currently swaying side to side and bobbing his head to the music, and had to admit that she had a point.
“No," he agreed, “probably not.”
“Wonderful," Mal said. “By the way, have you met my friend?”
She nodded to the strange boy, who was now standing beside Arthur. Arthur turned to look at him and his breath caught in his throat. The boy was even more gorgeous from this angle. His eyes were some indefinable colour that seemed to be a blend of blue, green and grey; his cheekbones and jaw were clearly defined, and his lush mouth was the very image of temptation. It was as though some higher power had listened to Arthur's earlier thoughts and had summoned this embodiment of his every desire from some celestial realm to taunt him.
"Arthur?" Dom's voice was filled with amusement and when Arthur was finally able to rouse himself from his mesmerised state, he was met by two huge grins and a very fetching blush. His own face felt uncomfortably hot and he tore his eyes away from the stranger with a muttered,
"Yeah, sorry!"
Mal waved away his apology with a grin like the cat that ate the canary. Arthur wished he could shake the feeling that he was the canary in this scenario.
"Arthur, this is-"
"Ash," the stranger introduced himself hurriedly, with a sharp look at Mal. He spoke with a crisp British accent that was unspeakably sexy. "Or Ashling, really. My mother's poor idea of a joke. She always said I was born of the ashes of her and father's love for each other."
Arthur smiled, although he couldn’t help but wonder at the past tense.
"Like a phoenix," he said.
Ash laughed.
"Yes," he agreed, "although I'm not sure that would have been a better name."
"It would suit you, though," Arthur said, before he could stop himself.
"Fiery hot?" Dom asked with a smirk, still swaying slightly.
Arthur shot him a glare and Mal elbowed him in the ribs.
"Beautiful and mysterious," she corrected. "N'est-ce pas, Arthur?"
"Something like that," Arthur agreed, lowering his head to hide his blush.
When he raised his eyes again, he found Ash staring at him with a small but happy smile on his face. They stood gazing at each other shyly for a while and Arthur was just working up his courage to ask the boy if he wanted to go somewhere else to talk, when the moment was interrupted by someone walking up to stand on Ash’s other side, stealing his attention away from Arthur.
"Thanks for the warning, Mal!" the intruder was saying. Arthur recognised him as Mal's friend Yusuf and had to force himself not to instinctively look around, as he usually did when he saw the boy. At Mal's questioning look, Yusuf clarified,
"Ariadne and Fischer. You might have mentioned something."
Mal looked somewhat abashed, which was unusual for her.
"I'm sorry, Yusuf!" she said. "I forgot. There were other things on my mind."
She glanced meaningfully at Arthur and Ash. Arthur frowned, wondering what she meant. Yusuf seemed to understand, however.
"Right," he said. "Nevermind, then. What did I interrupt?"
"Oh, nothing," Mal replied, but her glittering eyes belied her words. "Dom and I were just thinking of getting something to drink, weren't we, chéri?"
Dom's startled look clearly said that he, at least, had had no such thoughts, but as usual, he followed his girlfriend's lead.
"Yes, of course," he said, sounding relieved to finally be allowed to stop swaying. "I'm very thirsty."
Yusuf caught on just as quickly.
"Brilliant," he said. "I'm parched."
With a nod to Arthur and Ash, he followed the couple into the house, leaving Arthur alone with the boy of his dreams, who seemed to be trying not to laugh.
"Subtle," he commented.
Arthur grinned.
"Not really," he said, "but in their defence, I don't think they were trying to be."
"No, probably not," Ash agreed. He had turned his beautiful eyes back to Arthur, whose heartbeat sped up. He was grateful to his friends for giving him this opportunity, but at the same time he was terrified of messing it up. Surely there was no way such a perfect creature could ever want someone as ordinary as him.
"So," he said, not knowing what to say, but wanting to keep Ash from leaving.
“So," Ash repeated with another smile. “I hope you don't mind that I crashed your party. Mal said that you wouldn't."
Arthur almost laughed, the idea seemed so ludicrous.
"Mal was right," he replied. "I'm glad you came."
There was that adorable blush again.
"She's talked about you," Ash said. "A lot."
"Not all bad, I hope," Arthur said, although he knew Mal wouldn't badmouth him behind his back.
"Quite the contrary. She made you sound like quite the saint. Clever, witty, kind, sweet..."
There was a strange quirk to Ash's lips, as if he knew how inaccurate that last word was as a description of Arthur and it made Arthur suspicious. Had Dom said something? He shrugged it off, however. There were more pleasant things to focus on.
"I wish I could say the same," he said, "but I'm afraid I didn't even know you existed before tonight."
This time, Ash's smile was tinged with bitterness.
"I know," he said. “No matter, though. I believe there was talk of dancing.”
Arthur couldn’t repress a groan, but when Ash held out his hand, he allowed himself to pulled closer and did his best to follow Ash’s lead. He had to admit, as Ash did a spectacularly sexy move, that this dancing thing might have its advantages.
*****
Arthur quickly grew tired of the crowded dance floor, however. The music was too loud to allow for any proper conversation and they were constantly jostled apart by the other dancers. Arthur found it strange and somewhat suspicious that they were never pushed together, until he discovered that the person closest to him was Nash. After that, he gave up the dancing as a lost cause and somehow worked up the courage to ask Ash if he wanted to go somewhere else.
He led Ash out onto the veranda, where there were two sofas facing each other in shadowy corner. Arthur sat down in the one facing away from the door to the house and was delighted when Ash sat down next to him. After a few awkward moments of silence, Ash began asking him about his family and after that, the conversation flowed naturally.
Like Arthur, Ash was highly opinionated and as their opinions did not always coincide, they ended up spending the evening in a series of discussions (arguments, to anyone who was listening). Their friends came and went, but Arthur took little notice. Other people moved around them and Arthur knew that the gossip mill would be hard at work, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Nor did he care that there was something about Ash that tugged on his subconcious, making him feel as though there was something really obvious he was missing.
The truth was that he was falling headlong and he knew it. It was a dizzying sensation, terrifying and exhilirating, sort of like throwing oneself off a cliff without having checked one's parachute. He only wished he knew if Ash felt the same.
It was close to midnight by the time Arthur had finally worked up the courage to find out. He knew that Ash liked boys, had made him admit it by steering their conversation in that direction, so that wasn't a concern. Unfortunately, it didn't immediately follow that he'd like Arthur.
Ash's hand was resting on the seat between them, hidden from view for the people around them by the back of the sofa. They were alone at the moment and it seemed like the perfect time for Arthur to make his move. His heart was pounding so loudly, he felt sure Ash could hear it, as he slowly moved his own hand closer. Ash was talking, but there was no way Arthur could hear him over the rush of blood through his ears. He hardly dared to breathe as his fingers inched closer and every moment he expected Ash to move his hand away, but either he hadn't noticed what Arthur was doing or he didn't mind. Arthur prayed that it was the latter.
Finally, Arthur's little finger brushed against Ash's, just the tiniest bit of contact as their hands rested beside each other. Ash's skin was warm and soft and Arthur was almost giddy with relief. Surely this was a sign that his interest was reciprocated, otherwise Ash would not have allowed the lingering touch of their hands, slight though it was.
Nervous but hopeful, Arthur raised his eyes to look at the other boy. Ash had stopped talking and was looking down at their hands and smiling. Slowly, almost torturously so, his little finger moved. It slid across Arthur's finger in a careful caress that burned like fire against his skin, until their little fingers were linked together. Arthur bent his fingers until Ash's finger was secreted away against his palm. Ash's smile grew and he glanced up to meet Arthur's gaze.
"Do you want to go somewhere else," Artur asked, "somewhere less crowded?"
Ash nodded.
"Sure," he said. His voice was slightly hoarser than before and Arthur's heart sped up again, struggling against his ribs.
Reluctantly, he let go of Ash's finger as he stood up. Not that he thought that they were fooling anyone, but this was something he didn't feel like sharing with his schoolmates just yet. This was between him and Ash.
Forcing himself to walk as calmly as ever, he led the way into the house and up the stairs to his room, glad for his foresight in locking the doors to the upstairs bedrooms before his guests had arrived. Admittedly, it slowed their progress, as he and Ash had to more or less climb over the people who were strewn across the hallway floor - some of them engaged in acts that were certainly not suitable for such a public setting - but it also meant that his own bedroom was blessedly empty once he unlocked the door.
"Here we are," he said and winced internally both at the redundancy of the comment and the gruffness of his voice. Fortunately, Ash didn't seem to mind, as he simply closed the door, that same soft smile still on his face. Arthur's heart, which was getting quite the work-out this evening and might feel a bit sore tomorrow from all the exercise, leapt into his throat when the other boy locked the door behind him.
"Indeed," Ash replied and although he looked very calm and collected, there was a hint of nervousness in his eyes. "Alone, as promised."
Arthur nodded. He didn't think he'd be able to speak past his heart thumping in his throat. Slowly and carefully, he moved closer to Ash, until they were standing with the toes of their shoes almost touching, and reached out to take one of Ash's hands in his. To his great relief, Ash immediately linked their fingers together.
"I've had fun tonight," Arthur said, once his voice had returned. "I really like talking to you."
"And I you." Ash was almost whispering. His thumb was caressing Arthur's hand.
"I like looking at you too," Arthur confessed.
"And I you." Ash was grinning now.
"But what I'd really like to do right now" - Arthur had to swallow hard, before he could continue - "is to kiss you."
"So why don't you?" And yeah, there was a definite quaver in Ash's voice. For some reason, it soothed some of Arthur's anxiety and made him feel more relaxed. It was good to know that neither of them was as confident as they tried to pretend.
Arthur took another small step forward, until he was pressing Ash up against the door with their whole bodies in contact. He raised his free hand to run the back of his fingers over Ash's cheek, then moved it to run his index finger across his slightly parted lips. Ash's eyes had fallen closed and Arthur could feel the puffs of his breath against his finger as he traced that ridiculously full mouth. To his horror, he made a soft, needy sound in the back of his throat when Ash suddenly puckered his lips to kiss his finger, a hint of tongue sneaking out to taste it.
"Christ," he exhaled, letting both his hand and his head drop, until he was resting his forehead against Ash's and his hand on Ash's hip.
"Didn't you say something about a kiss?" Ash sounded as wrecked as he felt.
Arthur made a slight sound of agreement that was fortunately far less embarrassing than his previous noise. He moved his head ever so slightly and felt Ash move in the opposite direction, until finally, finally their lips were touching.
Arthur had kissed before, quite a few times, in fact, although he had never gone further, and he knew from the reactions he had got that he was good at it. He'd always been under the impression that kissing was kissing and it was the technique, not the emotion behind it, that determined how good the kiss was. When Dom had talked about his first kiss with Mal, how amazing and electric it had been, and how it hadn't mattered that she perhaps wasn't the best or the most experienced girl he had kissed, because she was the one and that had been all that mattered, Arthur had snorted and called bullcrap. He realised now that he owed Dom a serious apology.
It was obvious from the way Ash kissed that he hadn't had as much practice as Arthur. His technique was a bit sloppy and involved either too much or not enough tongue. He tried nipping at Arthur's lip and bit too hard, making Arthur flinch, which in turn made Ash apologise frantically in embarrassment, until Arthur silenced him with his mouth again. Ash's hand was resting on Arthur's lower back, stroking smooth, distracting circles over the fabric of his waistcoat, but not moving from that spot, which Arthur desperately wished it would. Where his other hand was, Arthur didn't know. He only knew it wasn't where it was supposed to be, which was on him.
None of this mattered one iota, however. Not when Ash's lips were as soft and luscious as they looked, not when he made these soft sighing sounds into Arthur's mouth or when he went all pliant in Arthur's arms. If Arthur had felt dizzy before, it was nothing to this sensation. His head was swimming, his heart was fit to explode and he couldn't seem to get close enough. One of his hands was caressing Ash's neck and chest, the other had buried itself in his hair after tearing off that ridiculous headband. He felt utterly lost, but he never wanted to be found again - at least not by anyone other than Ash.
He knew that he should probably try to slow things down, that neither of them were ready to go where this seemed to be heading, if the grinding and the panting were any indications, but he really, really, really didn't want to. Instead he wanted to climb inside Ash, to possess him, to share with him the burden of those feelings that were filling him up until he thought he would burst. He wanted to tear at Ash's clothes to reveal every inch of this beautiful boy to his hungry gaze, to throw him onto his bed and to taste every part of him.
With a herculean effort, he tore himself away from Ash's mouth, steadfastly ignoring the whimper that followed him. They were both breathing hard, but it was not nearly as hard as certain parts of their anatomies. Arthur literally ached to lean back in and throw caution to the wind, but he valiantly resisted the urge, choosing instead to let his eyes caress Ash's face.
Without his headband, Ash's hair had fallen forward to frame his face. His eyes were half-lidded, his mouth red and swollen and he wore an expression of almost desperate bliss. The hand that had been AWOL had finally returned to clutch at Arthur's arm and he was staring at Arthur as if he couldn't quite believe he was real. It was a feeling to which Arthur could relate.
Yet, through all of the desire and the amazement that clouded Arthur's thoughts, there was that nagging sensation again that there was something here that he should recognise. There was something almost familiar about the face before him, if only his head would clear enough for him to make it out. It was extremely frustrating.
Ash seemed to be able to read some of his thoughts on his face, because he began to squirm in Arthur's arms and he lowered his head. That wayward hand had gone missing again, but it wasn't until he heard the loud click of the lock that Arthur realised where it had gone. He felt his eyes widen.
"What-?"
Ash's face was miserable as he looked at Arthur with something like pleading in his eyes.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, as he began to open the door behind him. "Arthur, love, I'm so sorry! Darling, you have no idea..."
With those words, he tore himself out of Arthur's grasp and disappeared out of the room and down the hallway, pursued by a chorus of pained yelps and indignant shouts from the people he stepped on.
Through his stunned bewilderment, Artur distantly heard the great grandfather clock in the living room chime midnight. He suddenly realised that he was holding something in his hand and looked down to find an old, golden locket with a broken clasp clutched in his grip. Numbly and without thinking, he opened it to find two photos inside. One depicted a small boy with a round, happy face; the other was of a beautiful woman with the same indescribable eyes, full mouth and quirking smile as the young man that had just run out of the room.
Part Three - Eames
Rating: PG-13
Genre: High school AU
Warnings: Some strong language, unbetad
Word count: ~4500 (this part) / ~21000 (whole story)
Summary: A high school Cinderella AU, with Eames as the ugly duckling that transforms into a beautiful swan and Arthur as his well-dressed Prince Charming.
Disclaimer: The characters do not belong to me, but to the amazing Mr Nolan. I've just borrowed them for a while.
Author's Notes: So I forgot that today was Sunday. That was a rather pleasant surprise. It also meant that I had more time today than I had thought, so I was able to edit and post this sooner than expected. I may even have time to post the next part as well today. We'll see!
One of the lovely people who commented on the previous part made me remember more of the original prompt that inspied this, which asked for Mal as the fairy godmother and Eames "uglifying" (my word) himself with his clothes, glasses and hairstyle. I really do need to try to find the prompt, so I can give the person who wrote it proper credit. This whole stealing their idea really doesn't sit well with me! I guess it's lucky I'll never be an extractor. :-P
Part One - Eames
Part Two - Arthur
Arthur was standing on the grand porch of his parent's mansion-like villa, looking out at the crowd that milled about on the well-kept lawn like a horde of buffaloes, trampling down the grass. His dad was going to kill him when he got back. Well, maybe not kill him, but he'd definitely have a lot of explaining to do and he'd probably be grounded for a month. Normally a party like this would be worth it - the night was still young, but it was already being declared the party of the year - but tonight, Arthur wasn't sure. Everyone else seemed to be enjoying themselves, but for some reason, he couldn't get in the mood.
He had tried getting drunk, but even that had seemed to require too much effort and far from improving his mood, it had only plunged him further into what could only be described as a fit of sullenness, so he had quickly given up on that attempt. Dancing wasn't his thing and none of the conversations he'd overheard had been interesting enough to draw him in. He was feeling bored and jaded and longing for either true solitude or some stimulating company, neither of which he was likely to find tonight.
He had to admit that part of his problem was undoubtedly the desertion of his best friends. He knew that they were around somewhere, since they'd spent the afternoon together, but as soon as other people had begun arriving, they had both vanished into the crowd. Dom had been the first to disappear, undoubtedly in search of Mal, and shortly afterwards, Robert had been dragged off by Ariadne, leaving Arthur on his own, feeling lost and isolated in his own home. The three of them had always been inseperable, ever since their parents had more or less forced them together as children, but lately, the dynamics had changed and they were seeing far less of each other.
Arthur couldn't exactly blame his friends. Dom had been in love with Mal for ages and it was obvious that she felt the same. They were like two halves of a whole finally coming together and seeing them apart made them seem incomplete. Robert and Ariadne didn't quite have the same feeling of destiny about them, but there was a quiet glow of contentment that surrounded them when they were together and Arthur couldn't recall ever seeing Robert so relaxed. Even his frequent fights with his overbearing father seemed to faze him less. Arthur was happy for him, truly he was, just as he was happy for Dom. He just couldn't help the feeling of abandonment he was experiencing at being left behind, nor could he help being jealous of his friends' happiness.
In the end, that’s what it all came down to. Arthur was jealous of his friends and although he hated himself for it, he was a bit resentful of their happiness. It hurt to always be the fifth wheel, to be the one sitting on the sidelines, looking in. He wanted so badly to have someone for himself and to experience what his friends had. The trouble was that there wasn't much chance of that happening.
He let his eyes travel across the crowd, searching, without finding, for a face on which to linger. It wasn't as if there were no volunteers. Arthur was rich, good-looking and intelligent. He and his friends were considered the height of cool and many of their schoolmates were willing to do anything to become part of their clique. He had had his fair shares of offers, a few of which he had accepted, but only briefly. He wasn't just looking for anyone; he was looking for the one. And the only one ever to have caught Arthur's eye was one of the few that seemed immune to his charms.
With a sigh, he straightened from where he had been leaning against the railings and turned around to go inside. Instead, he found himself almost colliding with Andrew Nash and his older brother Peter Browning. Arthur suppressed a groan. Think of the devil... Nash was one of his most eager volunteers and also one of the least tempting. His manners were as greasy as his hair, his sense of humour was incomprehensible at best and he seemed to think that copying off Arthur's test papers was an acceptable form of flirting. There were also other, more personal reasons for Arthur's distaste, but he'd rather not think of those tonight.
"Arthur," Nash was saying enthusiastically, in a way that made it clear he'd been looking for him. "Awsome party, man! People'll be talking about this one."
Arthur forced a smile. He didn't even try to make it genuine.
"I'm glad you're enjoying it, Nash," he said, then nodded at the silent boy standing behind Nash. "Peter. I thought you were away at college."
"I'm back for the weekend," Peter said. "Where's Robert?"
Arthur shrugged. He was suddenly glad that Robert wasn't with him. For some reason, Peter had appointed himself Robert's guardian, ever since he'd stopped some of his classmates from stealing Robert's lunch when they were children. Arthur knew that Robert wasn't too fond of Peter's company, but he was too kind to say anything and so Peter continued to believe that his interest was appreciated.
"He's with Ariadne," Arthur replied. "I think they're around somewhere."
Peter blinked and frowned.
"Ariadne?" he repeated. "I thought Robert agreed with me and his father that she isn't appropriate company for the future leader of Fischer Morrow."
Arthur didn't bother to reply. Instead he said,
"I need to find Dom. You guys have a fun evening!"
With that, he pushed past the brothers, ignoring Nash's disappointed confusion and Peter's stern disapproval, and went in search of his best friend.
*****
It wasn't as difficult as he'd feared to find Dom. He was in the living room, standing in the middle of the impromptu dance floor that had appeared there, doing something that only vaguely resembled dancing. Mal was next to him, her head thrown back in laughter as she tried to control Dom’s movements with her hands and her body.
Another boy was dancing beside them. He was far better at it than Dom, his body moving in a way that was both fluid and rhythmic at the same time. His back was to Arthur, so all he could see was a head of soft-looking hair held back by a headband and a pair of broad shoulders above a frankly perfect behind. Still, there were plenty of sexy bodies around, so he was at a loss to explain the sudden thrill that ran through his body as he made his way towards his friends.
Mal saw him first and her beautiful face split in a huge smile. Seeing her open affection for him always made Arthur feel even more guilty over his petty jealousy. He knew that he was lucky that both his friends had fallen for girls that he got along with so well and who were both so eager to ensure that he never felt excluded.
"Arthur!" Mal exclaimed, letting go of Dom so she could kiss his cheeks. "We were wondering where you'd disappeared to. Viens, mon cher! Dance with us."
Arthur shook his head, smiling.
“I don’t dance, Mal," he told her.
“Nonsense," she said. “Neither does Dom and look at him now. You can hardly tell me you’d be worse at it.”
Arthur looked at his best friend, who was currently swaying side to side and bobbing his head to the music, and had to admit that she had a point.
“No," he agreed, “probably not.”
“Wonderful," Mal said. “By the way, have you met my friend?”
She nodded to the strange boy, who was now standing beside Arthur. Arthur turned to look at him and his breath caught in his throat. The boy was even more gorgeous from this angle. His eyes were some indefinable colour that seemed to be a blend of blue, green and grey; his cheekbones and jaw were clearly defined, and his lush mouth was the very image of temptation. It was as though some higher power had listened to Arthur's earlier thoughts and had summoned this embodiment of his every desire from some celestial realm to taunt him.
"Arthur?" Dom's voice was filled with amusement and when Arthur was finally able to rouse himself from his mesmerised state, he was met by two huge grins and a very fetching blush. His own face felt uncomfortably hot and he tore his eyes away from the stranger with a muttered,
"Yeah, sorry!"
Mal waved away his apology with a grin like the cat that ate the canary. Arthur wished he could shake the feeling that he was the canary in this scenario.
"Arthur, this is-"
"Ash," the stranger introduced himself hurriedly, with a sharp look at Mal. He spoke with a crisp British accent that was unspeakably sexy. "Or Ashling, really. My mother's poor idea of a joke. She always said I was born of the ashes of her and father's love for each other."
Arthur smiled, although he couldn’t help but wonder at the past tense.
"Like a phoenix," he said.
Ash laughed.
"Yes," he agreed, "although I'm not sure that would have been a better name."
"It would suit you, though," Arthur said, before he could stop himself.
"Fiery hot?" Dom asked with a smirk, still swaying slightly.
Arthur shot him a glare and Mal elbowed him in the ribs.
"Beautiful and mysterious," she corrected. "N'est-ce pas, Arthur?"
"Something like that," Arthur agreed, lowering his head to hide his blush.
When he raised his eyes again, he found Ash staring at him with a small but happy smile on his face. They stood gazing at each other shyly for a while and Arthur was just working up his courage to ask the boy if he wanted to go somewhere else to talk, when the moment was interrupted by someone walking up to stand on Ash’s other side, stealing his attention away from Arthur.
"Thanks for the warning, Mal!" the intruder was saying. Arthur recognised him as Mal's friend Yusuf and had to force himself not to instinctively look around, as he usually did when he saw the boy. At Mal's questioning look, Yusuf clarified,
"Ariadne and Fischer. You might have mentioned something."
Mal looked somewhat abashed, which was unusual for her.
"I'm sorry, Yusuf!" she said. "I forgot. There were other things on my mind."
She glanced meaningfully at Arthur and Ash. Arthur frowned, wondering what she meant. Yusuf seemed to understand, however.
"Right," he said. "Nevermind, then. What did I interrupt?"
"Oh, nothing," Mal replied, but her glittering eyes belied her words. "Dom and I were just thinking of getting something to drink, weren't we, chéri?"
Dom's startled look clearly said that he, at least, had had no such thoughts, but as usual, he followed his girlfriend's lead.
"Yes, of course," he said, sounding relieved to finally be allowed to stop swaying. "I'm very thirsty."
Yusuf caught on just as quickly.
"Brilliant," he said. "I'm parched."
With a nod to Arthur and Ash, he followed the couple into the house, leaving Arthur alone with the boy of his dreams, who seemed to be trying not to laugh.
"Subtle," he commented.
Arthur grinned.
"Not really," he said, "but in their defence, I don't think they were trying to be."
"No, probably not," Ash agreed. He had turned his beautiful eyes back to Arthur, whose heartbeat sped up. He was grateful to his friends for giving him this opportunity, but at the same time he was terrified of messing it up. Surely there was no way such a perfect creature could ever want someone as ordinary as him.
"So," he said, not knowing what to say, but wanting to keep Ash from leaving.
“So," Ash repeated with another smile. “I hope you don't mind that I crashed your party. Mal said that you wouldn't."
Arthur almost laughed, the idea seemed so ludicrous.
"Mal was right," he replied. "I'm glad you came."
There was that adorable blush again.
"She's talked about you," Ash said. "A lot."
"Not all bad, I hope," Arthur said, although he knew Mal wouldn't badmouth him behind his back.
"Quite the contrary. She made you sound like quite the saint. Clever, witty, kind, sweet..."
There was a strange quirk to Ash's lips, as if he knew how inaccurate that last word was as a description of Arthur and it made Arthur suspicious. Had Dom said something? He shrugged it off, however. There were more pleasant things to focus on.
"I wish I could say the same," he said, "but I'm afraid I didn't even know you existed before tonight."
This time, Ash's smile was tinged with bitterness.
"I know," he said. “No matter, though. I believe there was talk of dancing.”
Arthur couldn’t repress a groan, but when Ash held out his hand, he allowed himself to pulled closer and did his best to follow Ash’s lead. He had to admit, as Ash did a spectacularly sexy move, that this dancing thing might have its advantages.
*****
Arthur quickly grew tired of the crowded dance floor, however. The music was too loud to allow for any proper conversation and they were constantly jostled apart by the other dancers. Arthur found it strange and somewhat suspicious that they were never pushed together, until he discovered that the person closest to him was Nash. After that, he gave up the dancing as a lost cause and somehow worked up the courage to ask Ash if he wanted to go somewhere else.
He led Ash out onto the veranda, where there were two sofas facing each other in shadowy corner. Arthur sat down in the one facing away from the door to the house and was delighted when Ash sat down next to him. After a few awkward moments of silence, Ash began asking him about his family and after that, the conversation flowed naturally.
Like Arthur, Ash was highly opinionated and as their opinions did not always coincide, they ended up spending the evening in a series of discussions (arguments, to anyone who was listening). Their friends came and went, but Arthur took little notice. Other people moved around them and Arthur knew that the gossip mill would be hard at work, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Nor did he care that there was something about Ash that tugged on his subconcious, making him feel as though there was something really obvious he was missing.
The truth was that he was falling headlong and he knew it. It was a dizzying sensation, terrifying and exhilirating, sort of like throwing oneself off a cliff without having checked one's parachute. He only wished he knew if Ash felt the same.
It was close to midnight by the time Arthur had finally worked up the courage to find out. He knew that Ash liked boys, had made him admit it by steering their conversation in that direction, so that wasn't a concern. Unfortunately, it didn't immediately follow that he'd like Arthur.
Ash's hand was resting on the seat between them, hidden from view for the people around them by the back of the sofa. They were alone at the moment and it seemed like the perfect time for Arthur to make his move. His heart was pounding so loudly, he felt sure Ash could hear it, as he slowly moved his own hand closer. Ash was talking, but there was no way Arthur could hear him over the rush of blood through his ears. He hardly dared to breathe as his fingers inched closer and every moment he expected Ash to move his hand away, but either he hadn't noticed what Arthur was doing or he didn't mind. Arthur prayed that it was the latter.
Finally, Arthur's little finger brushed against Ash's, just the tiniest bit of contact as their hands rested beside each other. Ash's skin was warm and soft and Arthur was almost giddy with relief. Surely this was a sign that his interest was reciprocated, otherwise Ash would not have allowed the lingering touch of their hands, slight though it was.
Nervous but hopeful, Arthur raised his eyes to look at the other boy. Ash had stopped talking and was looking down at their hands and smiling. Slowly, almost torturously so, his little finger moved. It slid across Arthur's finger in a careful caress that burned like fire against his skin, until their little fingers were linked together. Arthur bent his fingers until Ash's finger was secreted away against his palm. Ash's smile grew and he glanced up to meet Arthur's gaze.
"Do you want to go somewhere else," Artur asked, "somewhere less crowded?"
Ash nodded.
"Sure," he said. His voice was slightly hoarser than before and Arthur's heart sped up again, struggling against his ribs.
Reluctantly, he let go of Ash's finger as he stood up. Not that he thought that they were fooling anyone, but this was something he didn't feel like sharing with his schoolmates just yet. This was between him and Ash.
Forcing himself to walk as calmly as ever, he led the way into the house and up the stairs to his room, glad for his foresight in locking the doors to the upstairs bedrooms before his guests had arrived. Admittedly, it slowed their progress, as he and Ash had to more or less climb over the people who were strewn across the hallway floor - some of them engaged in acts that were certainly not suitable for such a public setting - but it also meant that his own bedroom was blessedly empty once he unlocked the door.
"Here we are," he said and winced internally both at the redundancy of the comment and the gruffness of his voice. Fortunately, Ash didn't seem to mind, as he simply closed the door, that same soft smile still on his face. Arthur's heart, which was getting quite the work-out this evening and might feel a bit sore tomorrow from all the exercise, leapt into his throat when the other boy locked the door behind him.
"Indeed," Ash replied and although he looked very calm and collected, there was a hint of nervousness in his eyes. "Alone, as promised."
Arthur nodded. He didn't think he'd be able to speak past his heart thumping in his throat. Slowly and carefully, he moved closer to Ash, until they were standing with the toes of their shoes almost touching, and reached out to take one of Ash's hands in his. To his great relief, Ash immediately linked their fingers together.
"I've had fun tonight," Arthur said, once his voice had returned. "I really like talking to you."
"And I you." Ash was almost whispering. His thumb was caressing Arthur's hand.
"I like looking at you too," Arthur confessed.
"And I you." Ash was grinning now.
"But what I'd really like to do right now" - Arthur had to swallow hard, before he could continue - "is to kiss you."
"So why don't you?" And yeah, there was a definite quaver in Ash's voice. For some reason, it soothed some of Arthur's anxiety and made him feel more relaxed. It was good to know that neither of them was as confident as they tried to pretend.
Arthur took another small step forward, until he was pressing Ash up against the door with their whole bodies in contact. He raised his free hand to run the back of his fingers over Ash's cheek, then moved it to run his index finger across his slightly parted lips. Ash's eyes had fallen closed and Arthur could feel the puffs of his breath against his finger as he traced that ridiculously full mouth. To his horror, he made a soft, needy sound in the back of his throat when Ash suddenly puckered his lips to kiss his finger, a hint of tongue sneaking out to taste it.
"Christ," he exhaled, letting both his hand and his head drop, until he was resting his forehead against Ash's and his hand on Ash's hip.
"Didn't you say something about a kiss?" Ash sounded as wrecked as he felt.
Arthur made a slight sound of agreement that was fortunately far less embarrassing than his previous noise. He moved his head ever so slightly and felt Ash move in the opposite direction, until finally, finally their lips were touching.
Arthur had kissed before, quite a few times, in fact, although he had never gone further, and he knew from the reactions he had got that he was good at it. He'd always been under the impression that kissing was kissing and it was the technique, not the emotion behind it, that determined how good the kiss was. When Dom had talked about his first kiss with Mal, how amazing and electric it had been, and how it hadn't mattered that she perhaps wasn't the best or the most experienced girl he had kissed, because she was the one and that had been all that mattered, Arthur had snorted and called bullcrap. He realised now that he owed Dom a serious apology.
It was obvious from the way Ash kissed that he hadn't had as much practice as Arthur. His technique was a bit sloppy and involved either too much or not enough tongue. He tried nipping at Arthur's lip and bit too hard, making Arthur flinch, which in turn made Ash apologise frantically in embarrassment, until Arthur silenced him with his mouth again. Ash's hand was resting on Arthur's lower back, stroking smooth, distracting circles over the fabric of his waistcoat, but not moving from that spot, which Arthur desperately wished it would. Where his other hand was, Arthur didn't know. He only knew it wasn't where it was supposed to be, which was on him.
None of this mattered one iota, however. Not when Ash's lips were as soft and luscious as they looked, not when he made these soft sighing sounds into Arthur's mouth or when he went all pliant in Arthur's arms. If Arthur had felt dizzy before, it was nothing to this sensation. His head was swimming, his heart was fit to explode and he couldn't seem to get close enough. One of his hands was caressing Ash's neck and chest, the other had buried itself in his hair after tearing off that ridiculous headband. He felt utterly lost, but he never wanted to be found again - at least not by anyone other than Ash.
He knew that he should probably try to slow things down, that neither of them were ready to go where this seemed to be heading, if the grinding and the panting were any indications, but he really, really, really didn't want to. Instead he wanted to climb inside Ash, to possess him, to share with him the burden of those feelings that were filling him up until he thought he would burst. He wanted to tear at Ash's clothes to reveal every inch of this beautiful boy to his hungry gaze, to throw him onto his bed and to taste every part of him.
With a herculean effort, he tore himself away from Ash's mouth, steadfastly ignoring the whimper that followed him. They were both breathing hard, but it was not nearly as hard as certain parts of their anatomies. Arthur literally ached to lean back in and throw caution to the wind, but he valiantly resisted the urge, choosing instead to let his eyes caress Ash's face.
Without his headband, Ash's hair had fallen forward to frame his face. His eyes were half-lidded, his mouth red and swollen and he wore an expression of almost desperate bliss. The hand that had been AWOL had finally returned to clutch at Arthur's arm and he was staring at Arthur as if he couldn't quite believe he was real. It was a feeling to which Arthur could relate.
Yet, through all of the desire and the amazement that clouded Arthur's thoughts, there was that nagging sensation again that there was something here that he should recognise. There was something almost familiar about the face before him, if only his head would clear enough for him to make it out. It was extremely frustrating.
Ash seemed to be able to read some of his thoughts on his face, because he began to squirm in Arthur's arms and he lowered his head. That wayward hand had gone missing again, but it wasn't until he heard the loud click of the lock that Arthur realised where it had gone. He felt his eyes widen.
"What-?"
Ash's face was miserable as he looked at Arthur with something like pleading in his eyes.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, as he began to open the door behind him. "Arthur, love, I'm so sorry! Darling, you have no idea..."
With those words, he tore himself out of Arthur's grasp and disappeared out of the room and down the hallway, pursued by a chorus of pained yelps and indignant shouts from the people he stepped on.
Through his stunned bewilderment, Artur distantly heard the great grandfather clock in the living room chime midnight. He suddenly realised that he was holding something in his hand and looked down to find an old, golden locket with a broken clasp clutched in his grip. Numbly and without thinking, he opened it to find two photos inside. One depicted a small boy with a round, happy face; the other was of a beautiful woman with the same indescribable eyes, full mouth and quirking smile as the young man that had just run out of the room.
Part Three - Eames