Inception - Grace Under Pressure (3/10)

[osaki_nana_707]

Title: Grace Under Pressure (3/10)
Author: osaki_nana_707
Word count: ~4,500
Pairings/Characters: ArthurxEames
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: mentions of underage, language, mentions of past drug abuse, currently un-betaed
Summary: AU. Sequel to Bite Hard. Arthur reunites with Eames. By the next day, they're living together. Still, with the two of them, there's always the opportunity for things to get complicated.



Part Three

After two long rounds of sex, Arthur found himself curled up in bed with Eames doodling in his sketchbook next to him. Arthur glanced at his boyfriend and then looked back at the ceiling, swallowing.

It had been two days since Robert had said what he'd said, and Arthur had shoved it off as nonsense… and yet… here he was, thinking about it even still. Eames had some strange quirks he hadn't had before, but Arthur kept trying to convince himself that he and Eames really hadn't spent much time together when he was younger, so of course he'd find out things about him that he didn't notice before.

…but thinking that only made things worse… Realizing that they really hadn't spent much time together in the past, it made Arthur think that perhaps he'd been a little too overzealous in having Eames move in with him like they'd been together for years.

He loved Eames. He loved him. He kept reminding himself of this to try to calm his nerves.

It was… sort of working. Sort of.

"Eames?" Arthur said, slowly, "Um… I just thought you should know that when we weren't together, I had other boyfriends. We never had sex, but I did have other relationships."

"Okay," Eames said, looking mildly confused. "It's not like I told you to wait for me or anything. Is that what you've been worrying about for the last few days?"

He'd noticed. Of course he'd noticed. "Well," Arthur continued, clenching and unclenching his hands, "I just thought that, since we're a couple and we're living together, I thought we should have no secrets between us. I didn't want you to find any pictures of me with my exes and get the wrong idea is all."

"Oh," Eames said, nodded, and smiled, "All right then. Don't worry about that, Arthur. I trust you."

"Thanks," Arthur replied unsurely. "So… is there anything you'd like to tell me?"

Eames seemed to really think about it for a few minutes and then said, "No, not really. I had a few blow jobs from some other blokes, but I didn't have any legitimate relationships."

"Okay, then…" Arthur mumbled, rolling on his side and planting a kiss against Eames's thigh.

It didn't clear up a single lingering doubt.

…but Eames wouldn't lie to him. Surely, he wouldn't.

Eames felt guilty for not telling Arthur about the smack, but he convinced himself that it was for the best. Their relationship was going fabulously, and he didn't want to fight. Fighting made him feel like shit, and when he felt like shit, he used more often. As it was, he was only shooting up once every two days or so, maybe twice, and he never did it when Arthur was there.

Still, the guilt ate at him, and when he ended up painting something entirely too brown and unable to fix it, he broke he shot up twice in the same day.

No big deal, he had told himself as he plunged the needle into his vein. After all, it was only one time. He'd done it more often in the past.

"Eames?"

Eames jumped, snapping the tourniquet off of his arm and shoving it into his nail kit with everything else, zipping it up and stashing it under the sink. He pulled his sleeve down and, just as he was reaching for the knob of the bathroom door, was bowled over with a rush of euphoria so strong he thought he might black out.

"Where are you?" Arthur's voice called from down the hall.

Eames washed his face in the sink before leaving the bathroom to meet Arthur, smiling. "You're back early," Eames said.

"Robert and I finished the project," Arthur explained. "I brought sushi."

"Oh… lovely, splendid," Eames said and did his best to sound so, even though the idea of eating disgusted him. He kissed Arthur on the cheek on the way to the kitchen table and ate timidly while he listen to Arthur go on about what he and Robert had been doing. He only gave small responses because he was sure his words were slurring, and thankfully that was all Arthur needed to continue with his thoughts and theories.

They were both about halfway through their second rolls when Arthur paused. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Why?" Eames asked, nodding furiously or at least attempting to.

"You don't look so good. You're flushed."

"Oh… Fine. I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" Arthur asked, reaching out to touch Eames's face. "Is it too warm in here or something? I can turn the heat down-"

Eames had to get up then and only managed to make it to the sink before he puked.

"Eames!" Arthur shouted, jumping to his feet. It was only Arthur behind him that kept him from slumping to the floor, Eames was sure of that. "Jesus, what-"

"Is that shellfish?" Eames asked hazily. "I'm allergic to shellfish."

It was a lie, and Arthur believed it completely, apologizing over and over again while Eames told him it was fine because it wasn't like he knew and that he himself should have asked before eating it.

…and the guilt ate at him, so he shot up the next day too, while Arthur was asleep.

Arthur's Christmas break arrived, and the night after his last final, he and Eames had a celebratory fuck.

"So," Arthur said, allowing Eames to roll off of him onto his side. "I uh… was planning on heading down to the cabin to spend Christmas with Cobb and Mal and my mom."

"That sounds fun," Eames said sleepily, nosing at Arthur's neck.

Arthur nodded, a bit nervous, and said, "I uh… I want you to come with me."

Eames hoisted himself up with one of his arms. "For Christmas?... Of course, I'd love to, but I don't want to impose-"

Arthur shook his head. "No, I want you to come. You won't be imposing. You're my boyfriend now. I want you to meet my friends and family."

Eames smiled, knelt down, and kissed Arthur's nose. "Then, I'd love to meet them."

Arthur was beaming. "Great… Uh… well, I intended to head down there two days from now, and we usually stay about a week… so…"

"You don't have to give me so much notice," Eames laughed, lying down on Arthur's chest. "As an artist I set my own hours." Eames actually was quite pleased with the notice however because his stash was running a little low, and that meant he'd be able to buy enough to last him the week.

…not that he needed it to get through the week…

"If it's okay, though… I thought maybe we could call you Thomas-you know, instead of Eames."

"Why?" Eames asked, tracing circles along Arthur's ribs. "Think your family needs to know we're on a first name basis or else they'll assume I'm a prostitute you hired to make you look better?"

"That sounds like the plot to a terrible movie," Arthur said flatly, but a corner of his mouth had turned up in a smirk. "No, it's just that… Well, Cobb and Mal know about Eames, the twenty-two year old I screwed around with when I was statutory. If they find out we're back together, I'm not really sure how they'll react, and I don't want to cause any unnecessary stress on the holidays."

"I'm sure if they're as wonderful as you keep saying they are, then you wouldn't have any sort of problem, but that's fine. I'll be your very-very-good-friend-Thomas, and we'll see if they can figure out what you mean by that." He kissed down to Arthur's navel and smiled against the skin. "Ready for another round?"

Eames went to visit Vince the next day.

"Didn't expect to see you so soon," Vince mentioned when he pulled open his front door. Eames had driven the motorcycle that day, despite the chill, so that he wouldn't have to come up with some excuse to a cab driver or Arthur.

"I'm heading out of town for the holidays," Eames said, stepping inside the dank, smelling foyer. "Can you hook me up?"

"It just isn't Christmas without snow," Vince agreed and led Eames around the stairs to a room in the back that had the door wide open.

There was a girl in Vince's bed, which was really only a mattress tossed in the corner, and she seemed to be unconscious, breathing shallowly. It made Eames uncomfortable, so he did his best not to look at her.

"Okay," Vince said, digging through his closet until he produced a rather hefty amount of smack in a palm-sized, black plastic bag. "Think this'll satisfy you?"

Eames weighed it in his hand and nodded slowly before shoving it into the chest pocket of his coat. "How much?" he asked, digging out his wallet.

Vince pulled out a pocket-sized notebook and jotted down some numbers, doing a little math, and Eames still thought that Vince was highballing him, but he emptied his wallet anyway and left with satisfaction.

As he turned to leave, he caught sight of the girl, stirring a little, and he noticed a needle stuck into her arm. She'd just left it.

He shivered and excused himself and couldn't get out of the place fast enough. As he took off on his bike, he could feel the pouch of heroin pressed against his chest, so close to his heart he imagined it eating through the fabric, through the skin, through all of him until it formed a hole on the other side.

It was a terrifyingly fantastic thought that would not leave him alone for the entire drive back to Arthur's, and when he got back, he painted the imagery as clear as it flashed in his brain, blurring at the edges, bloody and violent and charred.

Once he was finished, Eames lay down on the couch and slept, and his dreams were too dark to see.

"Well, that's… disturbing."

Eames blinked, slowly unfurling from his sleep to find Arthur staring at the painting with a cigarette dangling between his fingers.

"Where'd you run off to?" Eames asked so that Arthur wouldn't ask him.

"I went to get a new suitcase. The one I have has a broken zipper on it. I bought one for you too." He stepped away from the painting, taking a long drag on the cigarette, and Eames couldn't help but notice that Arthur's teeth were yellower than they used to be. "Let's see, what else did I get… uh… I got some batteries for my cameras, the video camera and my Nikon… uh…" he dug in the bag he had thrown onto the counter. "Oh, I got more cigarettes and beer, and I bought some presents for Cobb and Mal and Mom." Arthur proceeded to show Eames the presents: a sweater for his mother, a picture frame for Cobb, and an ornament for Mal's tree (according to Arthur, it was a tradition for him to buy her ornaments).

"The store wasn't too much of a madhouse, was it?" Eames asked, getting to his feet and making sure he was steady before moving.

"You have no idea," Arthur groaned in annoyance. "I really should have done all this sooner. Fuck, I say that every year but never learn."

Eames kneaded Arthur's shoulders, causing him to instantly relax into his touch. "I should have gone with you," Eames said. "I'm pretty good at barreling through people."

"It's all right," Arthur sighed, eyes slipping shut as his head rolled around on his neck like Eames had loosened his hinges. "Where were you, anyway?"

"I just wanted to take the bike for a drive before we left. It's not good to just leave it, you know."

"Oh, yeah, I guess that's true," Arthur mumbled, and Eames moved his hands lower down on Arthur's back.

"That mall really did a number on your nerves, darling," Eames said against the shell of Arthur's ear. "You're stiff."

"Not yet," Arthur replied right on cue as Eames slipped one hand around to Arthur's front, palming him through his clothes. Arthur's hand came up to the back of Eames's neck as Eames layered kisses at the back of Arthur's jaw, and he sighed.

Then, Arthur said, "I also bought some condoms."

"Why?" Eames asked, never ceasing in his stroking or kissing.

"If they all come to the conclusion that we're-oh-having sex, and they will, I don't want anyone-ahh-lecturing me about-mm-safe sex."

"You worry too much," Eames said.

"One of us has to worry about things," Arthur replied with a smirk, but then Eames touched him just right and he was lost, arching into his touch.

"So prepared," Eames badgered playfully.

Arthur let it be at that, let Eames push him up against the table and fuck him slowly until he was unintelligible. He didn't tell Eames that he was still uncomfortable with the idea of fucking without protection or that he was worried about Eames's weight or that the painting he'd done while Arthur had been gone nearly made him sick with some unprovoked horror.

He didn't say anything because he just wanted things to be good.

So much for not having any secrets, Arthur thought bitterly and came all over Eames's fist.

The next morning, after the two of them showered together, Arthur checked his luggage one final time and then hauled it out to the car. Eames followed suit with his own.

Arthur had laughed at Eames when he'd gotten dressed that morning because the man had put on a suit, a suit. It was a charcoal color with a jade shirt beneath it, and while he looked fantastic in it, Arthur thought it was a bit much.

"I want to look nice when I meet your mum," Eames had said then, and then Arthur couldn't tease him anymore. Eames had even shaved.

In the end, Arthur had decided to wear a suit too because Cobb always wore one, and really Arthur was the one who looked ridiculous in the photos in his witty-saying t-shirts. He wore a red shirt and couldn't help but snort at the way they'd dressed in Christmas colors.

As Arthur made the slow trek through the traffic-heavy city streets, Eames chain-smoked and stared out the window, mumbling with the songs on the radio that he recognized.

"Are you nervous?" Arthur asked with a little grin.

"Me? Nervous? That's bollocks!" Eames laughed, but there was a twinge of hysteria there that revealed he clearly was.

"Technically you've met my mother before," Arthur reminded, adjusting his glasses.

"She was drunk off her arse in the restaurant I used to work at five years ago. I don't think that counts."

Arthur grabbed Eames's cigarette and took a long drag on it himself before handing it back. "She liked you then, even when she was wasted. She'll like you now too. She's extremely supportive of me."

"What if she thinks I'm obnoxious?"

Arthur couldn't help but laugh at that. "Um, hello, do you remember who she was married to? She's going to love you, Eames. I'm sure of it. Just be yourself. You're not obnoxious at all."

Eames leaned back in his chair, trying to appear more relaxed, but Arthur wasn't fooled. He turned up the Christmas music and sang along the rest of the drive to his mother home.

Eames went back to looking out the window, bouncing his leg and chewing on his lip. He regretted not shooting up before leaving, but there was literally no opportunity with Arthur around. He'd meant to get up early and do it before Arthur woke up, but he slept off his last dose and ended up waking to find Arthur already ready to go (of course, he did change into a suit after Eames did, and he looked lovely in it). He wouldn't have been quite so anxious about everything with the smack to calm his heart rate… but it wasn't like he could do anything about it now, so he tried not to think about it.

When Arthur pulled up to the house, Eames marveled at how much smaller it was than the house Arthur had lived in as a teenager.

"It was my father who bought that place," Arthur said with a roll of his eyes. "He hated giving his money to other people, but he loved showing off how much he had. Who really needs that much living space? There were rooms I still hadn't seen in that fucking place even after the two of us left. This is all we needed."

"I like it," Eames said with a nod. "It seems homey. It suits you better than that blasted mansion anyways. Maybe you and I can live in a house like this one day."

"Maybe," Arthur said with a smile as he turned off the car. "Well, come on."

Eames followed, looking over his shoulder out of paranoid habit. Arthur had a key to the house, so they didn't have to wait on the porch.

Inside, more Christmas music lilted through the air and it was warm and cozy and all around comfortable. Eames liked the place instantly.

"Hello?" Arthur called out, swinging his keys around his finger before grasping them in his fist. "Mom?"

"I'm up here, baby!" her voice called from up the stairs, "I'm just finishing packing!"

Arthur tromped up the steps and Eames followed him still, albeit hesitantly. "We're only going to be there for a week. You don't have to pack your whole closet," Arthur joked, confidently strolling the hall he was so familiar with. Eames noticed one door had a plaque with Arthur's name on it nailed to the outside and itched to go see what was there.

"I'm not packing my whole closet," Arthur's mother said as Arthur entered the room, and from behind him, Eames could see her sitting on the suitcase in an effort to get it shut. "I'm just trying to get everything in one bag."

She looked surprisingly younger than she had last time Eames had seen her, no longer bogged down by stress, alcohol, loneliness, and too much make-up. Her hair shined with more luster and her skin was brighter and she was like sunshine in her pale yellow sweater. She was just beautiful.

She was beautiful, just like Arthur.

Arthur leaned over and snapped the suitcase shut and helped her off of it with a grunt. "Nicely done," he said. "Should I applaud?"

She playfully smacked his shoulder, and that was when she noticed Eames still lingering unsurely in the doorway. "Hi," she said, wearing a look that was a mix of confusion and delight. Her voice was clear and bell-like without all of the booze slurring it and weighing it down.

"Ah… hello," Eames said, holding out his hand to shake. He knew he turned red in embarrassment when it trembled. "I'm Thomas, a… a good friend of your son's."

"A friend, huh?" she asked, voice just hinting at skepticism, and Eames saw Arthur blush too. "Nice to meet you, Thomas. Arthur, you should have told me you were bringing a friend."

"I wasn't sure if he was going to be able to come until just a couple of days ago," Arthur said sheepishly, and Eames felt himself instantly relaxing.

"What, you don't have a cell phone?" she asked, mock-offended. "Whatever. Let's get going before the weather gets bad. Mr. Thomas, I do hope you intend to tell me all about yourself."

"What do you want to know, exactly?" Eames asked, lifting her suitcase for her and carrying it down the stairs at the back of the line.

"Oh, you know, the basics," she said, grabbing her coat off of the hook by the door, tugging her hat over her head, and tossing her scarf around her neck. "Age, occupation, sexual orientation-and whatever else you'd like to say, I guess."

"Ah, well…" Eames said, careful not to slip on the ice on the walkway as he carried her bag to the car. He paused only momentarily to scrunch his nose up at Arthur who was grinning like an idiot. "Well, ah-I'm twenty-seven, and I'm an artist. I'm a painter, um… I'm technically bi-sexual, I guess… but I never really put a label on it."

"Weird how you and Arthur are friends then, since he likes to label everything," she said, crawling into the driver's seat as though she and Arthur had already made the decision that she would be driving. Eames took the backseat so that Arthur could sit next to her. "How'd you guys meet?"

They looked at each other for a second.

"In a club," Eames said, and it felt good to tell the truth. "He quite literally ran into me there."

She nodded, starting the car. "Is that so? Arthur, I thought you said you didn't like going to the club that much."

"I don't really," Arthur shrugged. "I was dragged into it, but I actually had a good time."

"Arthur's a dancing fool," Eames laughed, and Arthur's mother laughed too. "After a few shots of tequila, he's loosey-goosey."

"Oh, shut the hell up," Arthur grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. "Stop teasing how I dance. You don't dance any better."

"Who said I was talking about dancing?" Eames asked, raising his eyebrows, and Arthur's mom burst out laughing.

"Oh snap!" she said, slapping the steering wheel for effect.

Arthur was as red as his shirt, trying and failing to fight back a smile.

"We met up again," Eames continued when the laughter had died down, "at a Starbucks not too long ago, and we've been inseparable ever since."

He left the fact that they'd been living together unsaid for Arthur's sake. He didn't want his mother to believe Arthur was so quick to jump into bed with him (even if he sort of was).

"Well, that's good. Arthur was always such a loner when he was younger. It's nice to see he has such good friends nowadays."

Eames decided immediately that he liked Arthur's mother. He liked her a lot.

"Well, I'll be meeting the much talked about Mr. and Mrs. Cobb, so I hope I won't be left in the dust."

"It's okay," she laughed, glancing at him through the rearview mirror. "If he abandons you, you can come hang out with me. We'll have an awesome time, and you can teach me British slang."

"Well, that sounds right ace, mum. We'll dress dapper and go chat up some cracking blokes. It'll be bloody brilliant, it will," Eames replied, amping his English accent up to eleven.

"Bloody brilliant!" she replied, impersonating him.

"-and Arthur will be nobby no-mates."

"Hilarious," Arthur said flatly, but he'd already given up battling his smile. His dimples were there, and Eames brushed the pad of his index finger across the one closest to him. "Keep in mind that we've got a six hour drive ahead of us. If you fall asleep, I will draw a penis on your face."

"So cruel."

"It's okay, Thomas, I'll protect you," Arthur's mom said.

"Thank you, Miss Arthur's Mom."

"Please, call me Olivia."

"Olivia," Eames corrected himself. "Arthur and Olivia. That has a splendid ring to it."

"Yeah, but Thomas doesn't really suit you, you know? It's too proper," she said, and she imitated his accent again when she said the last word.

"My middle name is Reginald. How's that for proper?"

Arthur snorted. "Are you serious?"

"Sad but true," Eames said with a shrug.

"Your parents were so unkind to you," she said with a sigh. "Thomas Reginald-"

"Eames," he supplied immediately, unable to stop himself.

Arthur's eyes only widened a little, but his mother didn't notice.

"Thomas Reginald Eames. That's terrible!"

"I know," Eames laughed, placing a hand on Arthur's shoulder and squeezing it to let him know not to worry about it.

"Well… at least Eames suits you," Olivia nodded.

"Most people call me that actually," Eames admitted, and he realized that Arthur had unconsciously slipped his hand on top of Eames's, nervous and squeezing.

Olivia glanced at the two of them, seeming to notice Arthur's hand at the same time Eames did. She just let a corner of her mouth turn upwards and looked back at the road and started singing with the radio.

"Sleigh bells ring, are ya' listenin'? In the lanes, snow is glistenin'… a beautiful sight, we're happy tonight, walkin' in a winter wonderland…"