Keepsakes [Inception, an Arthur/Eames Fic]
Title: Keepsakes
Author: penelope_ziva
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Disclaimer: If I owned this movie there would be Ariadne/Arthur/Eames threesomes.
Spoilers/Warnings: AU. Swear words. After all, it is Eames.
Summary: From a prompt over at inception_kink. "Arthur and Eames share a class (or multiple classes) and Eames is never prepared. He always sits near Arthur and has to constantly share his text book, borrow paper and pens, etc. Eames also constantly distracts him with passing notes or always whispering to him even while the professor teaches.
Somehow Arthur ends up in Eames' dorm room (friend of his roommate or a study group??). Eames isn't there and didn't know Arthur would be coming, so Arthur discovers that Eames has saved every pen he'd borrowed from him, every note they'd passed, etc."
Yeah... I couldn't resist.
Anyway, it's my first ever Inception fic, and also my first ever slash fic. Enjoy!
Arthur leaned back in his seat, balancing it precariously on two legs. It was a bad habit and one of the only things teachers ever told him off for. He tapped the end of his pen on his desk as he waited for the rest of the class to arrive. It was the first class of the semester, of the year, where was everyone?
“Do you know how irritating that is?” a voice said from behind him. Arthur jumped, almost tipping his chair over backwards before regaining his balance.
He glared at the intruder who smirked.
“Eames,” he introduced himself, and Arthur noticed how good-looking the guy was.
“That's an odd name,” Arthur pointed out, looking up at Eames.
“That could be because it's my surname,” Eames replied dryly.
“And your forename?” Arthur questioned him. Eames sat down.
“For me to know and you to find out, mate,” he replied.
“Arthur,” Arthur added, seeing that Eames wasn't going to ask.
“Congratulations.”
Arthur tilted his chair back again and closed his eyes, tapping the end of his pen on the desk. He felt Eames' hand close over his and shivered involuntarily. The pen was taken from his hand and he opened his eyes.
“Do you mind?” Arthur put his hand out for his pen.
“Not really,” Eames answered with a smile. “Do you?”
“Yes.”
“Excellent.”
-
“Can I have my pen back?” Arthur asked when he saw Eames three hours later in math class.
“What, this one?” Eames twirled a pen between his fingers.
“Yes, that one,” Arthur answered, putting his hand out but Eames moved the pen out of his reach.
“Ah, I think I'll hang on to it for the moment. I'll give it back at the end of the day,” he replied as the teacher walked into the room.
“But-” Arthur began and Eames rolled his eyes.
“Don't be so selfish, love,” he commented, winking at Arthur.
Dammit, Arthur thought to himself. What the hell is going on?
-
“Hey,” Eames poked Arthur in the back from behind.
“What?” Arthur hissed, trying to pay attention to what the teacher was saying.
“Can I borrow a rubber?” Eames asked.
“What?!” Arthur exclaimed loudly, causing the teacher to look around in surprise. All the other students turned to look at the pair. Arthur flushed. “Sorry.”
“Is there something you would like to share with the class, Mr Forbes-Stuart? Mr Eames?”
“I was just asking Arthur for a -” Eames began, but Arthur interrupted.
“Nothing, miss,” he said quickly, turned and glaring at Eames.
“Then we will continue class in silence,” she answered, turning back to the board. Arthur ignored Eames' incessant poking for a while. After about five minutes, a note landed on his desk. When Ms. Green had them open their books, he unfolded the note.
Arthur Forbes-Stuart? Are you fucking kidding me? That's a poncey British surname, if you ask me.
Arthur quickly scribbled a note, screwed it up and threw it backwards at Eames. He waited for a reaction while beginning to write notes on the French monarchy. He was surprised someone like Eames was actually taking European History... he seemed more like the Sport or Art type, to tell the truth.
Eames had opened Arthur's note. After smirking at the perfect spelling and elegant handwriting, he began to write back.
No one was asking you, the note had said.
Arthur sighed as he felt them prick of paper as Eames put the note into the collar of his shirt.
Sut yourself. Are you sure you're not a Brit?
Arthur raised an eyebrow at the spelling and the cramped handwriting.
Quite sure.
Really sure?
Most definitely.
Maybe were long lost bruthers.
I doubt that very much.
Eames smirked. He loved screwing with Arthur, it was such fun. And Arthur always got so into it, so irritated by Eames' jokes.
Mind you, he could think of another sort of screwing he would quite happily get into with Arthur.
-
“You again,” Arthur said in a droll tone when Eames sat on the lab stool next to him at the lab desk.
“Me again,” Eames grinned at him. “Got a lab coat I can borrow?”
“You seriously think I carry two?” Arthur arched an eyebrow.
“Posh, prepared-for-anything man like you?” Eames shrugged. “Sure.”
Arthur rolled his eyes and wordlessly handed over his locker key to Eames. “It's on the bottom shelf.”
Eames grinned widely. “See? I'm always right.”
Unfortunately, Arthur thought to himself.
When Eames returned, the professor had already begun the lesson.
“Late on the first lesson?” he said as Eames entered the room.
“I was just getting my lab coat,” Eames held up the object to demonstrate and the professor nodded, deciding Eames was going to be one of those students.
“Sit down,” he instructed Eames.
As Eames passed behind Arthur to reach his seat he dropped the boy's keys in front of him before mussing up his hair.
“Do not. Touch. My hair,” Arthur glared at him and Eames leaned over to tousle it again. Arthur caught Eames' wrist in mid-air before letting go and trying to rescue his previously prefect hair style.
“Mr...”
“Eames.”
“Mr Eames, are you quite finished?” the professor asked him. Eames shrugged before nodding.
“Yes, sir,” he replied, in a tone that said precisely the opposite. As the professor turned back to teach Eames edged his chair nearer to Arthur.
“What's so precious about the hair, then?” he whispered.
Arthur glared at Eames.
“You might not be,” he hissed, “but I'm actually here to learn. So I'd appreciate if you would be quiet.”
“Oh, lighten up, love,” Eames sighed. He was silent for a few minutes, and Arthur began to hope that he was going to be quiet for the rest of the lesson. Then the moment was over. “Can I borrow your textbook?”
“Mr. Eames!”
-
Having established that the chemistry professor hated Eames, Arthur wasn't particularly enthusiastic about having to do an experiment in the aforementioned lesson with the aforementioned trouble maker.
“It'll be fun,” Eames protested, smirking as he watched Arthur pull on his lab coat. Damn, Arthur was hot.
“I doubt that,” Arthur replied, fetching a heatproof mat and a Bunsen burner before beginning to set up for the experiment.
Once the experiment was completely set up, Arthur went to fetch a splint to light the Bunsen.
“Turn on the gas,” he instructed Eames as he walked carefully back, holding the lighted splint in front of him.
“Anything else you want me to turn on?” Eames asked cheekily, and Arthur couldn't hide the flush that crept up his cheeks. Quickly putting the splint over the Bunsen, the gas caught fire and the Bunsen was lit. Arthur blew out the splint carefully and placed it on the mat.
“Explosions,” Eames stated what was written on the experiment's instructions. “Sounds like my sort of experiment.”
“Of course,” Arthur replied, glancing at Eames as he drew up a table of results. Eames plucked the pencil from his fingers.
“Mind if I borrow that? No? Excellent,” he said, smiling at Arthur. If it had been anyone else Arthur would probably have just taken the pencil back and probably requested a new lab partner... but for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to do it to Eames.
After a few more minor squabbles they began the experiment. The point of it was to see which reactant produced the best explosion. Of course, they were doing it in a very controlled way.
The first one worked, at least, when Arthur did it.
“Give,” Eames ordered, and Arthur handed over the tongs he'd been using to start to put together everything for the second experiment.
“What?” Arthur said, looking carefully at Eames.
“Don't be afraid to dream a little bigger, darling,” Eames said, dropping a large amount of potassium - much bigger than they were supposed to be using - into the mixture.
The result was... interesting, to say the least.
“I think I should have been afraid,” Arthur replied, lying flat on the ground underneath Eames. “Can you, you know, get up now?”
“I'm protecting you, darling,” Eames said.
“Well, you can stop it now,” Arthur tried to push Eames off, but damn he was heavy. Eames sensed Arthur's thoughts.
“It's all muscle,” he explained, beginning to move off Arthur.
“Of course,” Arthur replied dryly, in a voice that said he didn't particularly believe Eames.
“Mr Eames.” Eames glanced at Arthur, who shrugged.
“Bloody hell,” Eames sighed, and prepared himself for the professor's wrath.
-
By lunchtime the whole school knew about the explosion and Eames.
“Do you do this at every school you go to?” Arthur asked, as they walked into the cafeteria. Eames thought about it for a moment.
“Mostly,” he replied, nodding. “Can I borrow some money?”
“What for?” Arthur exclaimed.
“Lunch,” Eames answered, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“No.”
“Go on.”
“No.”
“Please?”
“No.”
“For me, darling? Please?” Eames tried and failed to flutter his eyelashes but Arthur rolled his eyes.
“Fine.” Arthur handed Eames a one dollar bill.
“You value me that much?” Eames pouted. Arthur handed over another.
“That is exactly how much I value you. You set my textbook on fire,” Arthur pointed out.
“I can see your point,” Eames answered, listening to what Arthur ordered for lunch, before raising an eyebrow. “Are you always this... finicky?”
Arthur glanced at Eames. “I'll take that as a yes,” Eames answered his own question before turning to the young woman at the cash desk. “What he had.”
After collecting his lunch - technically Arthur's lunch, since it had been paid for with Arthur's money - Eames followed Arthur to a table. Arthur beckoned someone else over and Eames glanced up. It was his room mate, Dom.
“Cobb,” Eames greeted him. They weren't exactly the best of friends, but they got on well enough to be able to share a room.
“Eames,” Cobb replied. “Still getting into trouble?”
Eames shrugged. “Chemistry's more fun when you get to blow things up,” he answered matter-of-factly.
“How's Ariadne?” Cobb asked Arthur, referring to Arthur's 'old flame' that had been extinguished after a massive fight. Arthur shrugged.
“We haven't spoken,” he admitted.
“And who would Ariadne be?” Eames' face broke into a grin.
“His g-” Cobb began, but Arthur interrupted. “No one.”
“Ah, the girlfriend who never existed. That's really not healthy, darling,” Eames answered, leaning back in his chair slightly, but unlike Arthur he didn't take his feet off the floor.
“And you'd know all about it?”
“Of course, love,” Eames replied, winking at him. Arthur flushed slightly. You are straight. Straight straight straight straight straight, his thoughts argued with his hormones. Straight. You are straight. YOU ARE STRAIGHT. YOU ARE FUCKING STRAIGHT.
Another thought pushed its way to the forefront of Arthur's mind. You are... unless it's Eames.
Arthur tried to push the thought away. No. Not Eames. I have no feelings for Eames. None at all. Nada. Zero. Zilch.
Ah, yes you do.
No I don't.
Yes you do.
No I don't.
Yes, I rather think you do.
No I don't.
I think you so, love.
No I don't.
Darling? You do.
I do. I do? No! I don't! Arthur sighed as his thoughts began to argue between themselves. It was like being schizophrenic, being around Eames. He hated him, but he loved him. Oh, and there was the matter of his thoughts beginning to sound like Eames. That was just... weird.
“Problem, Arthur?” Eames asked, surprising him.
“Nothing at all.”
-
“Why do we need to wear a tie?” Eames complained about the rule for the school concerts. “Ties are for bloody bureaucrats and rich sods.”
“I wear ties,” Arthur argued, glancing behind him at where Eames was sitting.
“And you prove my point,” Eames replied, smiling slightly. Arthur scowled. “Arthur, darling, do you have a tie I could borrow?”
Arthur rolled his eyes.
“Mr Eames, would you please be quiet,” Ms. Green finally turned and told him off.
A little while later a note landed on Arthur's desk, folded into a tiny paper plane. He rolled his eyes. Again. He was beginning to think he would have the best eye muscles ever if he had to put up with Eames for a whole two years. He unfolded it.
A tie, darling. Remember.
Arthur wrote a note back and placed it on the edge of Eames' desk. Eames picked it up when Ms. Green's back was turned and read it.
Don't call me darling.
Eames tapped Arthur on the back, and Arthur turned to face him.
“Of course,” Eames replied, and Arthur smiled. “Darling.”
The smile disappeared.
-
Eames sat next to Cobb, an empty chair on the other side of him.
“Where's Arthur?” he asked. Cobb smiled slightly.
“You'll find out.”
The concert began and after a performance by the school choir - containing no Arthur - the Vice Principal announced the first soloist. Eames glanced at Cobb, who had a small smile playing on his lips.
“Speak of the bloody devil,” Eames exclaimed, getting annoyed stares from the others sitting around them. Arthur had walked up onto stage, holding a guitar in one hand and music in the other. After sitting down, he began to play.
Wise men say only fools rush in
but I can't help falling in love with you
As Arthur's voice filled the room - it was a damn good voice too - Eames smiled. The song was perfect. It described everything.
Shall I stay
would it be a sin
If I can't help falling in love with you
Eames could have sworn that Arthur was looking directly at him. But Arthur wouldn't be. It was just a song, and because of the lights Arthur probably couldn't see where he was looking.
Like a river flows surely to the sea
Darling so it goes
Eames smirked as Arthur sang one of his favourite words.
Some things are meant to be
take my hand, take my whole life too
for I can't help falling in love with you
Soon, too soon, the song began to end. Cobb glanced at Eames, but Eames was too busy staring at Arthur to notice. Everyone began to applaud, and Eames joined in. Arthur was damn good. Too good. Eames loosened his - Arthur's - tie slightly.
“Well, bugger me,” he said quietly.
“If I must.”
Eames jumped at the sudden voice beside him.
“Bloody hell, Arthur!” he hissed. Arthur smirked. Usually it was Eames doing the surprising, but for once, he had the upper hand.
“Enjoy it?” Arthur asked, settling back into his seat as two people began a piano duet.
“It could have been better,” Eames answered vaguely.
“Well, maybe one day you'll get a private concert,” Arthur replied sweetly. In the darkness of the auditorium, Eames gaped at Arthur.
-
Eames sat down next to Arthur and glanced at the board. “Equations, equations, equations. What bloody use are they going to be to me?”
“Many reasons,” Arthur began, but Eames clamped a hand over his mouth.
“That was a rhetorical question, darling.”
“You actually know what a rhetorical question is?” Arthur asked once Eames had removed his hand, trying not to sound quite as surprised as he was.
“I'm not stupid,” Eames denied. Arthur smirked.
“Oh, I know,” he replied glancing at Eames. As the teacher entered the room, Arthur went quiet. Like the good boy he is, Eames thought to himself, smirking slightly. He'd never have guessed that he would be friends with a perfect little smart-ass like Arthur. Arthur really wasn't his type.
“Work on Exercise 3A.”
Arthur opened his textbook to the right page and opened his exercise book. Picking up a pen he waited for the inevitable, “Can I borrow a pen/pencil/ruler?”
“Arthur.”
“Eames.”
“Can I share your textbook?”
Well, at least it was a new request. Arthur pushed the book into the middle of them so they could both see it.
“You owe me,” Arthur pointed out.
“You're so caught up in all the little details,” Eames replied, beginning to write down answers on a piece of file paper. Apparently he had forgotten his exercise book too. To Arthur, it wasn't much of a surprise by now. Eames seemed to be permanently unprepared. It's kind of endearing.
As Arthur reached the end of the page of questions, he reached out to turn the page of the textbook at the precise time Eames did. Eames' hand rested lightly on Arthur's for a second before it was gone again, leaving Arthur to turn the page confusedly.
He's a distraction.
-
French class. It was another class Arthur would not have expected Eames to be signed up for. As Madame Girard handed out test paper, Eames leaned over to Arthur.
“Voulez-vous coucher avec moi, c'est soir?” he whispered, smirking. Arthur glared at Eames.
“Go away, Eames.”
“S'il te plaît?” Eames stared at Arthur.
“Go away, Eames.”
“Fine. Tell me the answers? Now? Maintenant?” Eames fluttered his eyelashes in a girly way and smiled at Arthur.
“Let me think about it,” Arthur answered.
“I knew it.”
“Eames?”
“Oui, mon ami?”
“Go away.”
“Vraiment?”
“Really.”
“ S'il te bloody plaît?”
“Uh... NO.” Arthur replied as they turned over their test papers.
“So bloody responsible,” Arthur heard Eames mutter. Smiling a little, Arthur wrote Eames a note and, glancing up at Madame Girard, pushed it towards Eames.
1. Non
2. Elle n'a pas assez d'argent.
Happy now?
-
Arthur knocked on the door. “Cobb?” he called, waiting for the door to be opened. There was no answer. He was supposed to be doing a Spanish revision session with Cobb... maybe Cobb was late. After all, he did have Mr. Adams for last period, and he often kept people behind for the most minor offences.
Arthur tried the door handle and found it unlocked. Well, apparently Eames was in. Lazy bastard. He could have opened the door!
Arthur entered the dorm room. He could immediately guess which room was whose. One door was closed, while the other was wide open and inside Arthur could see clothing all over the floor. And underwear. Doesn't Eames actually do laundry? Arthur answered his own question easily. Don't be absurd, he's Eames.
Since Cobb didn't seem to be in, Arthur decided to go and speak to Eames. As he approached the door, he stepped over an empty can of Coke on the floor. Leaning down, he picked it up and placed it on the coffee table. He knocked on Eames' door before glancing in.
Inside, there was no sign of Eames. The bed covers were slightly crumpled, as if someone had been sitting on them. Then again, it could just be because Eames didn't make his bed.
One of the drawers of Eames' bedside table was open, and Arthur stepped carefully over the strewn clothes to close it.
However, something caught his attention before he did. Was that his pen?
He picked it out of the drawers and looked at it. It was! It was pen he'd leant to Eames in his first lesson of the semester. So this was where it had got to...
Arthur looked in the drawer at the other items. My pencil. My other pen. Ah, my ruler. My lab coat?! What the...
He picked out a piece of paper.
No one was asking you.
It was one of the notes he'd written to Eames in lessons. He unfolded another.
1. Non
2. Elle n'a pas assez d'argent.
Happy now?
Well, that was more recent. But why had Eames kept them?
“What are you doing here?” a voice said from behind him. Arthur jumped in surprised and dropped the note. He turned around.
“Eames!” he exclaimed, his voice higher than it normally was. Eames quickly leaned forward and pushed the drawer shut, his shoulder brushing against Arthur's hip as he did so, sending shivers up Arthur's spine. “Why have you kept all that?”
Eames shrugged. “I don't know. I must have forgotten about it.”
Arthur sighed. “They aren't things you've forgotten about. You've kept them. But... why?”
“Always demanding the little details,” Eames replied, picking up the note that Arthur had dropped and placing it on the bedside table.
“I just want some specificity,” Arthur countered, moving closer to Eames. Eames looked at him oddly.
“That is not a word,” he replied.
“Don't change the subject,” Arthur said, prodding Eames in the chest lightly. Eames stared back at Arthur, daring him to break his gaze.
“I've never been good with words,” Eames said. Before Arthur could begin to wonder what he meant, Eames was kissing him. Softly, lightly, tentatively, as if he was worried that Arthur would pull away.
But to Eames' surprise - and delight - Arthur didn't pull away. Instead, the seemingly “stuck up” smart-ass deepened the kiss, his hand moving to Eames' waist. With ease, Eames shut the door with his foot, just in case Cobb happened to return.
Arthur pulled away slightly, so his forehead was resting on Eames'.
“You do not know how long I have been waiting to do that,” Eames told him breathlessly. A smile began to bloom on Arthur's face, brightening his features in such a way that Eames was beginning to wonder why he had waited to do that.
“I can quite imagine,” Arthur replied. “Darling.”
Eames smirked and pushed Arthur backwards onto his bed.
Maybe he would finally get his chance to screw Arthur in other ways.
• Comments are l♥ve!
• ConCrit is also appreciated!
• Do not claim as your own!
Continued HERE.
Author: penelope_ziva
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Disclaimer: If I owned this movie there would be Ariadne/Arthur/Eames threesomes.
Spoilers/Warnings: AU. Swear words. After all, it is Eames.
Summary: From a prompt over at inception_kink. "Arthur and Eames share a class (or multiple classes) and Eames is never prepared. He always sits near Arthur and has to constantly share his text book, borrow paper and pens, etc. Eames also constantly distracts him with passing notes or always whispering to him even while the professor teaches.
Somehow Arthur ends up in Eames' dorm room (friend of his roommate or a study group??). Eames isn't there and didn't know Arthur would be coming, so Arthur discovers that Eames has saved every pen he'd borrowed from him, every note they'd passed, etc."
Yeah... I couldn't resist.
Anyway, it's my first ever Inception fic, and also my first ever slash fic. Enjoy!
Arthur leaned back in his seat, balancing it precariously on two legs. It was a bad habit and one of the only things teachers ever told him off for. He tapped the end of his pen on his desk as he waited for the rest of the class to arrive. It was the first class of the semester, of the year, where was everyone?
“Do you know how irritating that is?” a voice said from behind him. Arthur jumped, almost tipping his chair over backwards before regaining his balance.
He glared at the intruder who smirked.
“Eames,” he introduced himself, and Arthur noticed how good-looking the guy was.
“That's an odd name,” Arthur pointed out, looking up at Eames.
“That could be because it's my surname,” Eames replied dryly.
“And your forename?” Arthur questioned him. Eames sat down.
“For me to know and you to find out, mate,” he replied.
“Arthur,” Arthur added, seeing that Eames wasn't going to ask.
“Congratulations.”
Arthur tilted his chair back again and closed his eyes, tapping the end of his pen on the desk. He felt Eames' hand close over his and shivered involuntarily. The pen was taken from his hand and he opened his eyes.
“Do you mind?” Arthur put his hand out for his pen.
“Not really,” Eames answered with a smile. “Do you?”
“Yes.”
“Excellent.”
-
“Can I have my pen back?” Arthur asked when he saw Eames three hours later in math class.
“What, this one?” Eames twirled a pen between his fingers.
“Yes, that one,” Arthur answered, putting his hand out but Eames moved the pen out of his reach.
“Ah, I think I'll hang on to it for the moment. I'll give it back at the end of the day,” he replied as the teacher walked into the room.
“But-” Arthur began and Eames rolled his eyes.
“Don't be so selfish, love,” he commented, winking at Arthur.
Dammit, Arthur thought to himself. What the hell is going on?
-
“Hey,” Eames poked Arthur in the back from behind.
“What?” Arthur hissed, trying to pay attention to what the teacher was saying.
“Can I borrow a rubber?” Eames asked.
“What?!” Arthur exclaimed loudly, causing the teacher to look around in surprise. All the other students turned to look at the pair. Arthur flushed. “Sorry.”
“Is there something you would like to share with the class, Mr Forbes-Stuart? Mr Eames?”
“I was just asking Arthur for a -” Eames began, but Arthur interrupted.
“Nothing, miss,” he said quickly, turned and glaring at Eames.
“Then we will continue class in silence,” she answered, turning back to the board. Arthur ignored Eames' incessant poking for a while. After about five minutes, a note landed on his desk. When Ms. Green had them open their books, he unfolded the note.
Arthur Forbes-Stuart? Are you fucking kidding me? That's a poncey British surname, if you ask me.
Arthur quickly scribbled a note, screwed it up and threw it backwards at Eames. He waited for a reaction while beginning to write notes on the French monarchy. He was surprised someone like Eames was actually taking European History... he seemed more like the Sport or Art type, to tell the truth.
Eames had opened Arthur's note. After smirking at the perfect spelling and elegant handwriting, he began to write back.
No one was asking you, the note had said.
Arthur sighed as he felt them prick of paper as Eames put the note into the collar of his shirt.
Sut yourself. Are you sure you're not a Brit?
Arthur raised an eyebrow at the spelling and the cramped handwriting.
Quite sure.
Really sure?
Most definitely.
Maybe were long lost bruthers.
I doubt that very much.
Eames smirked. He loved screwing with Arthur, it was such fun. And Arthur always got so into it, so irritated by Eames' jokes.
Mind you, he could think of another sort of screwing he would quite happily get into with Arthur.
-
“You again,” Arthur said in a droll tone when Eames sat on the lab stool next to him at the lab desk.
“Me again,” Eames grinned at him. “Got a lab coat I can borrow?”
“You seriously think I carry two?” Arthur arched an eyebrow.
“Posh, prepared-for-anything man like you?” Eames shrugged. “Sure.”
Arthur rolled his eyes and wordlessly handed over his locker key to Eames. “It's on the bottom shelf.”
Eames grinned widely. “See? I'm always right.”
Unfortunately, Arthur thought to himself.
When Eames returned, the professor had already begun the lesson.
“Late on the first lesson?” he said as Eames entered the room.
“I was just getting my lab coat,” Eames held up the object to demonstrate and the professor nodded, deciding Eames was going to be one of those students.
“Sit down,” he instructed Eames.
As Eames passed behind Arthur to reach his seat he dropped the boy's keys in front of him before mussing up his hair.
“Do not. Touch. My hair,” Arthur glared at him and Eames leaned over to tousle it again. Arthur caught Eames' wrist in mid-air before letting go and trying to rescue his previously prefect hair style.
“Mr...”
“Eames.”
“Mr Eames, are you quite finished?” the professor asked him. Eames shrugged before nodding.
“Yes, sir,” he replied, in a tone that said precisely the opposite. As the professor turned back to teach Eames edged his chair nearer to Arthur.
“What's so precious about the hair, then?” he whispered.
Arthur glared at Eames.
“You might not be,” he hissed, “but I'm actually here to learn. So I'd appreciate if you would be quiet.”
“Oh, lighten up, love,” Eames sighed. He was silent for a few minutes, and Arthur began to hope that he was going to be quiet for the rest of the lesson. Then the moment was over. “Can I borrow your textbook?”
“Mr. Eames!”
-
Having established that the chemistry professor hated Eames, Arthur wasn't particularly enthusiastic about having to do an experiment in the aforementioned lesson with the aforementioned trouble maker.
“It'll be fun,” Eames protested, smirking as he watched Arthur pull on his lab coat. Damn, Arthur was hot.
“I doubt that,” Arthur replied, fetching a heatproof mat and a Bunsen burner before beginning to set up for the experiment.
Once the experiment was completely set up, Arthur went to fetch a splint to light the Bunsen.
“Turn on the gas,” he instructed Eames as he walked carefully back, holding the lighted splint in front of him.
“Anything else you want me to turn on?” Eames asked cheekily, and Arthur couldn't hide the flush that crept up his cheeks. Quickly putting the splint over the Bunsen, the gas caught fire and the Bunsen was lit. Arthur blew out the splint carefully and placed it on the mat.
“Explosions,” Eames stated what was written on the experiment's instructions. “Sounds like my sort of experiment.”
“Of course,” Arthur replied, glancing at Eames as he drew up a table of results. Eames plucked the pencil from his fingers.
“Mind if I borrow that? No? Excellent,” he said, smiling at Arthur. If it had been anyone else Arthur would probably have just taken the pencil back and probably requested a new lab partner... but for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to do it to Eames.
After a few more minor squabbles they began the experiment. The point of it was to see which reactant produced the best explosion. Of course, they were doing it in a very controlled way.
The first one worked, at least, when Arthur did it.
“Give,” Eames ordered, and Arthur handed over the tongs he'd been using to start to put together everything for the second experiment.
“What?” Arthur said, looking carefully at Eames.
“Don't be afraid to dream a little bigger, darling,” Eames said, dropping a large amount of potassium - much bigger than they were supposed to be using - into the mixture.
The result was... interesting, to say the least.
“I think I should have been afraid,” Arthur replied, lying flat on the ground underneath Eames. “Can you, you know, get up now?”
“I'm protecting you, darling,” Eames said.
“Well, you can stop it now,” Arthur tried to push Eames off, but damn he was heavy. Eames sensed Arthur's thoughts.
“It's all muscle,” he explained, beginning to move off Arthur.
“Of course,” Arthur replied dryly, in a voice that said he didn't particularly believe Eames.
“Mr Eames.” Eames glanced at Arthur, who shrugged.
“Bloody hell,” Eames sighed, and prepared himself for the professor's wrath.
-
By lunchtime the whole school knew about the explosion and Eames.
“Do you do this at every school you go to?” Arthur asked, as they walked into the cafeteria. Eames thought about it for a moment.
“Mostly,” he replied, nodding. “Can I borrow some money?”
“What for?” Arthur exclaimed.
“Lunch,” Eames answered, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“No.”
“Go on.”
“No.”
“Please?”
“No.”
“For me, darling? Please?” Eames tried and failed to flutter his eyelashes but Arthur rolled his eyes.
“Fine.” Arthur handed Eames a one dollar bill.
“You value me that much?” Eames pouted. Arthur handed over another.
“That is exactly how much I value you. You set my textbook on fire,” Arthur pointed out.
“I can see your point,” Eames answered, listening to what Arthur ordered for lunch, before raising an eyebrow. “Are you always this... finicky?”
Arthur glanced at Eames. “I'll take that as a yes,” Eames answered his own question before turning to the young woman at the cash desk. “What he had.”
After collecting his lunch - technically Arthur's lunch, since it had been paid for with Arthur's money - Eames followed Arthur to a table. Arthur beckoned someone else over and Eames glanced up. It was his room mate, Dom.
“Cobb,” Eames greeted him. They weren't exactly the best of friends, but they got on well enough to be able to share a room.
“Eames,” Cobb replied. “Still getting into trouble?”
Eames shrugged. “Chemistry's more fun when you get to blow things up,” he answered matter-of-factly.
“How's Ariadne?” Cobb asked Arthur, referring to Arthur's 'old flame' that had been extinguished after a massive fight. Arthur shrugged.
“We haven't spoken,” he admitted.
“And who would Ariadne be?” Eames' face broke into a grin.
“His g-” Cobb began, but Arthur interrupted. “No one.”
“Ah, the girlfriend who never existed. That's really not healthy, darling,” Eames answered, leaning back in his chair slightly, but unlike Arthur he didn't take his feet off the floor.
“And you'd know all about it?”
“Of course, love,” Eames replied, winking at him. Arthur flushed slightly. You are straight. Straight straight straight straight straight, his thoughts argued with his hormones. Straight. You are straight. YOU ARE STRAIGHT. YOU ARE FUCKING STRAIGHT.
Another thought pushed its way to the forefront of Arthur's mind. You are... unless it's Eames.
Arthur tried to push the thought away. No. Not Eames. I have no feelings for Eames. None at all. Nada. Zero. Zilch.
Ah, yes you do.
No I don't.
Yes you do.
No I don't.
Yes, I rather think you do.
No I don't.
I think you so, love.
No I don't.
Darling? You do.
I do. I do? No! I don't! Arthur sighed as his thoughts began to argue between themselves. It was like being schizophrenic, being around Eames. He hated him, but he loved him. Oh, and there was the matter of his thoughts beginning to sound like Eames. That was just... weird.
“Problem, Arthur?” Eames asked, surprising him.
“Nothing at all.”
-
“Why do we need to wear a tie?” Eames complained about the rule for the school concerts. “Ties are for bloody bureaucrats and rich sods.”
“I wear ties,” Arthur argued, glancing behind him at where Eames was sitting.
“And you prove my point,” Eames replied, smiling slightly. Arthur scowled. “Arthur, darling, do you have a tie I could borrow?”
Arthur rolled his eyes.
“Mr Eames, would you please be quiet,” Ms. Green finally turned and told him off.
A little while later a note landed on Arthur's desk, folded into a tiny paper plane. He rolled his eyes. Again. He was beginning to think he would have the best eye muscles ever if he had to put up with Eames for a whole two years. He unfolded it.
A tie, darling. Remember.
Arthur wrote a note back and placed it on the edge of Eames' desk. Eames picked it up when Ms. Green's back was turned and read it.
Don't call me darling.
Eames tapped Arthur on the back, and Arthur turned to face him.
“Of course,” Eames replied, and Arthur smiled. “Darling.”
The smile disappeared.
-
Eames sat next to Cobb, an empty chair on the other side of him.
“Where's Arthur?” he asked. Cobb smiled slightly.
“You'll find out.”
The concert began and after a performance by the school choir - containing no Arthur - the Vice Principal announced the first soloist. Eames glanced at Cobb, who had a small smile playing on his lips.
“Speak of the bloody devil,” Eames exclaimed, getting annoyed stares from the others sitting around them. Arthur had walked up onto stage, holding a guitar in one hand and music in the other. After sitting down, he began to play.
Wise men say only fools rush in
but I can't help falling in love with you
As Arthur's voice filled the room - it was a damn good voice too - Eames smiled. The song was perfect. It described everything.
Shall I stay
would it be a sin
If I can't help falling in love with you
Eames could have sworn that Arthur was looking directly at him. But Arthur wouldn't be. It was just a song, and because of the lights Arthur probably couldn't see where he was looking.
Like a river flows surely to the sea
Darling so it goes
Eames smirked as Arthur sang one of his favourite words.
Some things are meant to be
take my hand, take my whole life too
for I can't help falling in love with you
Soon, too soon, the song began to end. Cobb glanced at Eames, but Eames was too busy staring at Arthur to notice. Everyone began to applaud, and Eames joined in. Arthur was damn good. Too good. Eames loosened his - Arthur's - tie slightly.
“Well, bugger me,” he said quietly.
“If I must.”
Eames jumped at the sudden voice beside him.
“Bloody hell, Arthur!” he hissed. Arthur smirked. Usually it was Eames doing the surprising, but for once, he had the upper hand.
“Enjoy it?” Arthur asked, settling back into his seat as two people began a piano duet.
“It could have been better,” Eames answered vaguely.
“Well, maybe one day you'll get a private concert,” Arthur replied sweetly. In the darkness of the auditorium, Eames gaped at Arthur.
-
Eames sat down next to Arthur and glanced at the board. “Equations, equations, equations. What bloody use are they going to be to me?”
“Many reasons,” Arthur began, but Eames clamped a hand over his mouth.
“That was a rhetorical question, darling.”
“You actually know what a rhetorical question is?” Arthur asked once Eames had removed his hand, trying not to sound quite as surprised as he was.
“I'm not stupid,” Eames denied. Arthur smirked.
“Oh, I know,” he replied glancing at Eames. As the teacher entered the room, Arthur went quiet. Like the good boy he is, Eames thought to himself, smirking slightly. He'd never have guessed that he would be friends with a perfect little smart-ass like Arthur. Arthur really wasn't his type.
“Work on Exercise 3A.”
Arthur opened his textbook to the right page and opened his exercise book. Picking up a pen he waited for the inevitable, “Can I borrow a pen/pencil/ruler?”
“Arthur.”
“Eames.”
“Can I share your textbook?”
Well, at least it was a new request. Arthur pushed the book into the middle of them so they could both see it.
“You owe me,” Arthur pointed out.
“You're so caught up in all the little details,” Eames replied, beginning to write down answers on a piece of file paper. Apparently he had forgotten his exercise book too. To Arthur, it wasn't much of a surprise by now. Eames seemed to be permanently unprepared. It's kind of endearing.
As Arthur reached the end of the page of questions, he reached out to turn the page of the textbook at the precise time Eames did. Eames' hand rested lightly on Arthur's for a second before it was gone again, leaving Arthur to turn the page confusedly.
He's a distraction.
-
French class. It was another class Arthur would not have expected Eames to be signed up for. As Madame Girard handed out test paper, Eames leaned over to Arthur.
“Voulez-vous coucher avec moi, c'est soir?” he whispered, smirking. Arthur glared at Eames.
“Go away, Eames.”
“S'il te plaît?” Eames stared at Arthur.
“Go away, Eames.”
“Fine. Tell me the answers? Now? Maintenant?” Eames fluttered his eyelashes in a girly way and smiled at Arthur.
“Let me think about it,” Arthur answered.
“I knew it.”
“Eames?”
“Oui, mon ami?”
“Go away.”
“Vraiment?”
“Really.”
“ S'il te bloody plaît?”
“Uh... NO.” Arthur replied as they turned over their test papers.
“So bloody responsible,” Arthur heard Eames mutter. Smiling a little, Arthur wrote Eames a note and, glancing up at Madame Girard, pushed it towards Eames.
1. Non
2. Elle n'a pas assez d'argent.
Happy now?
-
Arthur knocked on the door. “Cobb?” he called, waiting for the door to be opened. There was no answer. He was supposed to be doing a Spanish revision session with Cobb... maybe Cobb was late. After all, he did have Mr. Adams for last period, and he often kept people behind for the most minor offences.
Arthur tried the door handle and found it unlocked. Well, apparently Eames was in. Lazy bastard. He could have opened the door!
Arthur entered the dorm room. He could immediately guess which room was whose. One door was closed, while the other was wide open and inside Arthur could see clothing all over the floor. And underwear. Doesn't Eames actually do laundry? Arthur answered his own question easily. Don't be absurd, he's Eames.
Since Cobb didn't seem to be in, Arthur decided to go and speak to Eames. As he approached the door, he stepped over an empty can of Coke on the floor. Leaning down, he picked it up and placed it on the coffee table. He knocked on Eames' door before glancing in.
Inside, there was no sign of Eames. The bed covers were slightly crumpled, as if someone had been sitting on them. Then again, it could just be because Eames didn't make his bed.
One of the drawers of Eames' bedside table was open, and Arthur stepped carefully over the strewn clothes to close it.
However, something caught his attention before he did. Was that his pen?
He picked it out of the drawers and looked at it. It was! It was pen he'd leant to Eames in his first lesson of the semester. So this was where it had got to...
Arthur looked in the drawer at the other items. My pencil. My other pen. Ah, my ruler. My lab coat?! What the...
He picked out a piece of paper.
No one was asking you.
It was one of the notes he'd written to Eames in lessons. He unfolded another.
1. Non
2. Elle n'a pas assez d'argent.
Happy now?
Well, that was more recent. But why had Eames kept them?
“What are you doing here?” a voice said from behind him. Arthur jumped in surprised and dropped the note. He turned around.
“Eames!” he exclaimed, his voice higher than it normally was. Eames quickly leaned forward and pushed the drawer shut, his shoulder brushing against Arthur's hip as he did so, sending shivers up Arthur's spine. “Why have you kept all that?”
Eames shrugged. “I don't know. I must have forgotten about it.”
Arthur sighed. “They aren't things you've forgotten about. You've kept them. But... why?”
“Always demanding the little details,” Eames replied, picking up the note that Arthur had dropped and placing it on the bedside table.
“I just want some specificity,” Arthur countered, moving closer to Eames. Eames looked at him oddly.
“That is not a word,” he replied.
“Don't change the subject,” Arthur said, prodding Eames in the chest lightly. Eames stared back at Arthur, daring him to break his gaze.
“I've never been good with words,” Eames said. Before Arthur could begin to wonder what he meant, Eames was kissing him. Softly, lightly, tentatively, as if he was worried that Arthur would pull away.
But to Eames' surprise - and delight - Arthur didn't pull away. Instead, the seemingly “stuck up” smart-ass deepened the kiss, his hand moving to Eames' waist. With ease, Eames shut the door with his foot, just in case Cobb happened to return.
Arthur pulled away slightly, so his forehead was resting on Eames'.
“You do not know how long I have been waiting to do that,” Eames told him breathlessly. A smile began to bloom on Arthur's face, brightening his features in such a way that Eames was beginning to wonder why he had waited to do that.
“I can quite imagine,” Arthur replied. “Darling.”
Eames smirked and pushed Arthur backwards onto his bed.
Maybe he would finally get his chance to screw Arthur in other ways.
• Comments are l♥ve!
• ConCrit is also appreciated!
• Do not claim as your own!
Continued HERE.