Prompt Post No. 12
Welcome to Round 12 of the Inception Kink Meme.
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Even so, he doesn’t slick it back. It’ll only get messed up anyway.
“Morning,” he says to his mom, dumping his bag by the door and grabbing an orange from the fruit bowl .
“Good morning,” she says, laying down the paper. “I was talking to Charlotte last night after you went to bed, you know. About how you’re starting classes at Eames’s school.”
“Oh?” Arthur’s stomach drops, thinking of what his older sister might have said about his slightly more than professional interest in Eames.
His mother nods, before clearing her throat and putting on a decent imitation of Arthur’s older sister. “Tell Arthur that Eames is totally wasted on him.”
Arthur grins, relieved. “Whatever. She never liked him anyway. Reckoned he had too much strength and not enough grace.”
It’s true, really, but to be honest it’s one of the things Arthur has always found attractive about Eames. He’s all thick muscle and power, and maybe he’s never been quite as successful as he could be at competition because of it. But Arthur’s glad he never changed.
“Did you get the tape from under the bathroom sink?”
“Yes, mom.” He tucks the orange into his bag while his mother nods approvingly.
“Good,” she says.
Arthur slings his bag over one shoulder and leans in to kiss her cheek. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours,” he says, heading for the door.
“I’ll be at work, so remember to clean your room before your father gets home.”
“I’ll try,” Arthur says evasively, and heads out the door.
*
It’s kind of nostalgic really, the squeaks and dull thuds echoing through the studio. He hadn’t been toted about to his sister’s practices since he was about ten, but the atmosphere was still familiar.
Eames is across the other side of the studio working with a pair of the advanced girls who had moved from other schools for the chance to train with him, and Arthur swallows the jealous pang that jolts through his stomach.
It’s surprisingly easy to get caught up in the class, even though the basic exercises are nothing really new to him. There’s stretching, which he’s used to, and basic rolls and tumbling practice. Even with the few weeks of daily jogging and stretching his stomach is burning by the time they start with backwards rolls over the barrel to start getting used to the movements, and it’s hard to pull his legs up and over with his stomach muscles alone. At least he’s going to have amazing abs after a while, and he focuses on the thought as they run through the exercises.
“So, how’s everyone over here going?”
Arthur almost drops himself on his head when he hears the purr of that British accent, but recovers enough to finish the roll without looking like a total idiot.
Eames has a towel draped over his shoulders, singlet clinging to his chest. He’s smiling, and Arthur doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to get over how amazing that fucking mouth looks in real life.
He adds his voice to the general murmur of ‘good’ and wipes his hands, suddenly a lot sweatier than they had been, on his own singlet.
“Mind if I put them through their paces, Sarah?”
Their instructor shakes her head. “Go for it.”
Eames walks them through pretty much the same exercises Sarah has had them doing, except that it’s a lot harder for Arthur to lose himself in the easy flow of muscle and bone when it’s that voice telling him when to tuck and how to extend.
Eames drifts between them once Sarah takes charge again, helping out here and there, asking names. Arthur watches him out of the corner of his eye. The tension that sweeps through him when Eames approaches him is instantaneous, and he tries not to let it show on his face.
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