fiction: makin' a mess as i progess
( makin' a mess as i progress ) nc-17, 7707 words, cobb/eames
The story of two teenagers; Cobb and Eames, failboats in love.
Written for forgerness who contributed to help_nz, thanks for being awesome and thanks for the prompt! Sorry it took so long ♥ & Title from Gym Class Heroes' On My Own Time (Write On!) + Have some art I drew a while back, inspired by the prompt. + Beta'd by saintdogstreet .
Eames groans and slams his fist onto the table. He hadn’t anticipated for this to happen on the edge of his desk but he should’ve known. Cobb’s an insatiable and demanding little bitch at times, and damn if Eames doesn’t love it when it comes to sex.
The way Cobb’s deceivingly small mouth and slight lips looks, stretched around his cock, is sexy as hell. He watches that mouth pull off to suck at his balls and curls a hand around his cock to slap it against the side of Cobb’s face, delighting in the scowl that forms because he knows Cobb hates it when he pulls porno moves on him.
“Not funny, man,” says Cobb, biting at his inner thigh in punishment. He slaps away Eames’ hand to replace it with his own, staring with hungry eyes at the peeking head.
Eames gets the sudden urge to boast about his size, shove his cock into Cobb’s mouth so he can gag on it. He’s been there with a measuring tape and on Google as well. He knows he’s above average with it being six inches at rest and eight inches when hard.
“Hey, are you zoning out on me? I’m not good enough for you?” asks Cobb, and when he has Eames’ attention, he slurps at the head of his cock, tonguing wetly under the head. Eames can’t help but moan at that, at the feeling of Cobb’s mouth sinking over the rest of the length and his hips stutters forward, trying to get more of that wet heat. Cobb takes it all like a pro, and he practically is with how many blowjobs he’s given Eames, bobbing his head back and forth, hand stroking the rest.
Eames grunts at the pleasure rolling through his body and grips the edge of the desk tight, fighting the urge to grab Cobb’s hair and just fuck his face. He’s almost there when Cobb runs a hand down his thigh, mouth popping off to say, “C’mon Jacquey, c’mon,” before he’s jacking Eames off, mouth open and waiting.
“Don’t bloody-” growls Eames and he comes in Cobb’s open mouth, streaking his cheek with a line of come, “call me Jacquey. Or Jacques.”
Cobb hums tunelessly at him, thumbing the spilt come into his mouth before grinning wide at him. “But you love it when I talk dirty, baby. Call you Jacques and coo about how you make my jaw ache.” He gets on his feet and kisses Eames tentatively, like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to, and Eames grabs him by the hips, pulling him close to slip him some tongue.
“You don’t have to swallow, you know,” says Eames when they break apart.
Cobb shrugs, looking slightly sheepish. “Just letting you taste yourself, you dirty bastard.”
Eames raises an eyebrow but doesn’t comment on Cobb’s words. Sometimes he doesn’t understand what’s going through that blond head of his. “Alright, whatever, hand over your books.” He puts out a hand and Cobb dives towards his bag to pull out his Math and English books. The pages are curling at the corners, the covers covered in black, blue and red ink that consist of towering buildings with sweeping arches, cutting supports and curvy columns.
“You’re gonna help me with my Physics homework too, right?” asks Cobb, biting on his bottom lip and Eames rolls his eyes.
“How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t take Physics AP like you? You know I do Drama when you go off.”
“But that doesn’t mean you can’t, besides, it hasn’t stopped you from doing it thus far,” says Cobb, pulling out the book with its distinct Bauhaus Dessau building on the cover.
Eames puts down the two books he’s holding and pulls up his pants, zipping it up. “A fuck for Physics then,” he bargains and watches Cobb squirm in the spot, knows that he’s thinking about this morning when Eames fucked him against the window at six in the morning, teasing him about how anyone could wake up and see them like this.
He smirks and Cobb flushes. “Deal,” he says, “just- not now, yeah?”
“I guess,” says Eames. “Should start on the homework anyway.” He steps forward to palm Cobb in his school slacks, already hard from just blowing Eames, “keep this for me then, yeah? I’ll be back for it.” He gives Cobb a soft squeeze before grabbing Cobb’s Physics book and turns back to his study desk. He pulls the chair out and takes a seat.
As he reaches for a black pen from his jar, Cobb says, “Oh fuck it,” and pulls the chair back to slide onto his lap, straddling him. Eames groans as Cobb grinds down, already hardening, ready for a second round.
The perks of being a teenager.
-
“Did you see what Robert’s wearing?” asks Cobb, craning his head down to get a light from Eames. Eames presses his already lit cigarette to Cobb’s, sucking on it to make it glow.
“Armani again,” drawls Eames, smoke filtering in wisps from the corners of his mouth, “I didn’t even know you could get Armani to make a uniform.”
“And yet there he is,” says Cobb, pulling back to suck and blow, blond hair falling into his eyes.
“There he is,” repeats Eames, tilting his head to see the sunlight catch on Cobb’s blue earring. The corner of his lips quirk up at the memory of the teachers making a fuss over Cobb’s sudden brazen decision to get both his ears pierced, and how he flaunted it by wearing bright blues one. Eames thinks it looks good on him, likes how it matches his eyes and the blue of their uniform.
“Hey, did you hand in my Physics homework?”
Eames flicks his ashes towards the toilet bowl and scowls. “Do I look like your errand boy? I put it on your desk when I was done.”
“Fuck!” swears Cobb, running a hand through his hair. “I have to go get it and hand it in later.”
“Rodriguez’s gonna know you skipped though,” says Eames, watching Cobb fret about his homework and maintaining the grade of an A+ student while sporting the attitude of a slouch and the reputation of being the King of school.
It’s funny that the one class they don’t take together, is the one class they skip out on to hang out with each other; walking the school grounds, lying in their room or hanging in the toilets smoking.
Thinking on it now, Eames wonders when they’ll get sick of each other and if it’ll be any time soon.
“Fuck that,” says Cobb, shrugging. He takes long drags of his cigarette before dropping the butt into the toilet and flushing. “I put my ass on the line for that homework, I’m gonna hand it in. You coming?”
Eames shrugs, the Science hall is the furthest away from the Arts hall so there shouldn’t be a chance of him being caught out on skipping. He follows Cobb out, smoking on the short stub of his cigarette, breathing smoke out of his nose. He half-waves when he sees Yusuf making his way to the library, obviously having sucked up enough to a teacher to abandon the normal study hall location.
“You’re a kiss arse!” he calls, dropping the butt of his cigarette to the ground and stepping it out. He pulls the school blazer tighter around his shoulders, trying to fight off the autumn’s cold.
Yusuf just blows a kiss in response.
“Mr. Eames!”
Eames cringes and he hears Cobb swear under his breath.
“Good afternoon, Bellamy,” greets Eames, turning around and smoothing his hair down. He gives their English teacher a wide smile and sees Cobb do the same. “And how are you on this fine yet cool day?
“Oh drop the act, Jacques. And it’s Mrs. Bellamy,” says Bellamy, cocking a hip, “You boys aren’t in class.”
“Study hall. Cobb and I are just going to get our textbooks from our dorm room.”
She frowns at them. “Let me see your schedules then.”
Eames doesn’t even pretend to rummage through his pockets to look for one, just says, “Sorry, Bell, looks like the paper and I parted ways.”
“Actually, I’ve got it,” says Cobb, pulling out a piece of paper and Eames is caught by surprise. They actually don’t have study hall now, and if that paper has any of Eames’ obscene drawings of Cobb’s ass taking his cock then they’re definitely going to get into a world of trouble. But Bellamy just huffs and hands it back.
“Do be quick then, Jacques, Dominick.”
Eames salutes her before dragging Cobb off.
“What the hell?” he questions when they’re out of earshot and Cobb hands Eames the paper that clearly states they have study hall this period. “How the hell?”
“I make copies where we have study period like every period,” says Cobb, a lazy smirk on his face and Eames just wants to kiss him, so he does. He grabs Cobb by his outrageously blond hair and drags him in for a kiss, biting on his bottom lip before slipping his tongue in. Cobb opens easily for him, hands automatically coming to his shoulder for purchase.
“You’re a superstar, love,” he says against Cobb’s jaw and pulls away.
Cobb makes a small sound in the back of his throat.
-
They’re stuck in Maths, doing a test in the fifth period. It’s not overly complicated, seeing as how Eames has already finished ten minutes ago, but he’s stuck here until Cobb makes his move.
See, Cobb usually gets too lazy to do his tests as well, so he copies off Eames. The way Eames knows if Cobb wants to cheat or not is if he kicks the back of his chair- a slight knock means Cobb doesn’t need him and a hard jolt means that Cobb wants to copy.
He gets the big kick two minutes later and sighs. All he has to do now is wait for his cue, wait for Cobb’s grand scheme of distraction so that Eames can slip him his paper without the teacher noticing.
It all starts to unravel when he recognises the three students known as Saito, Nash and Kaneda get up from their seats, dropping their papers onto the teacher’s desk.
As they walk out, Nash trips Saito so that he falls into the board, gashing his arm open on the corner of the little tray made to hold the white board markers. Saito gets up, blood welling from his wound and punches Nash right in the face. The resounding crunch after makes Eames wince cause that’s gotta hurt.
Contrary to what he thinks, Kaneda laughs out loud while Nash stares dumbly at the blood staining his school uniform. Once he’s snapped out of the shock, he swears and launches at Saito, fingers curling around his shirt’s collar and the both of them are rolling out the door. Kaneda runs after them, encouraging the fight loudly and Mr. Lee watches this all, shocked.
It’s always fun to see how a new teacher reacts to a student fight.
They keep hearing Kaneda shout, and the sounds of slams against the walls and lockers. The class gets another glimpse when Kaneda slams the grappling pair into the open door of the class, before they all pull outside again.
That seems to get Mr. Lee going, because he gets out of his chair, yelling at the trio to cease fighting and half the class have abandoned their papers to crane their bodies out of their seats to watch the debacle.
Eames slips Cobb his test paper, and sprawls just enough in his seat so that he covers Cobb from sight.
They hear other teachers step in to try and fix the problem outside, shouting, but the boys are nothing but thorough in their job and their roughhousing continues on, dragging down the hall.
By the time they’re done, Cobb has copied all the answers and slipped back Eames his test paper. The both of them look bored out of their mind as Mr. Lee comes back in to slouch in his chair.
Eames watches Cobb get out of his seat first, dropping his paper on the desk as Mr. Lee tries to fix his dishevelled appearance. Eames follows minutes after, dragging the waiting Cobb towards the bathroom for payment.
“You’ve got fifteen minutes to rub against me until we both come and then we’ve gotta hit our room to change into new underwear,” says Eames, grabbing Cobb’s hips and grinding against them.
Cobb doesn’t say a word, just moans brokenly and Eames tilts his head for a kiss, then two, then three. He keeps kissing Cobb as he pushes their hips together in a slow rub, and bites down on Cobb’s bottom lip when he comes.
-
Lunch is spent with all the years, freshmen through to seniors, as the school isn’t that big. Eames take a seat beside Robert while Cobb takes a seat opposite to him but right beside Arthur.
Eames snort derisively.
While Robert is a rich boy with brains, he’s a little fragile in personality. He’s known Cobb since they were young though. Their fathers had been business partners and Robert had just naturally clung to Cobb and stayed that way since. It doesn’t annoy Eames, the way he vies for Cobb’s attention, because it’s understandable. Robert has a history of always being neglected; his mother passed when he was young, his father too busy and his uncle-
Don’t even get Eames started on his uncle.
Arthur though, he doesn’t command Cobb’s attention, but Cobb willingly gives it to him anyway. Arthur is like no one they’ve met before, a junior who has already passed all his AP classes with flying colours, a student who wears his uniform like a suit; all polished oxfords and slacks ironed with a crease in them. He even adds a black waistcoat that the teachers don’t reprimand him for, too mesmerised by the gorgeous silk back whenever Arthur takes off his jacket.
Eames kinds of hates how perfect Arthur is, and he’s sure Arthur also has beef with him. They always seem to be clashing at one point or another, but really, they’re friends at heart.
If only Cobb would just stop.
“Cobb, I need my arm to eat,” says Arthur, all cool and composed but Cobb clings even more, blinking baby blues at him.
“You can eat with one arm, Arthur, Eames does it all the time.”
At the mention of his name, Eames grins and shoves a fry into his mouth. Robert sighs audibly beside him.
“Then why don’t you go cling to his arm instead,” says Arthur, shrugging as if to dislodge Cobb, but he’s not trying very hard.
“I cling onto him all the time, it’s your turn!”
“Thanks for that, Arthur,” salutes Eames, playing along while he tracks the way Arthur smiles softly at Cobb. He rolls his shoulders and stretches out his arms. “It’s good to be able to use both arms once in awhile.”
“Hey, King Cobby.”
Everyone shifts their attention to the newcomer.
Cobb smiles wide at the sight of Nash slinking up to the table and leaning his hip against its edge.
Eames clenches his hands into fists beneath the table. To be honest, he’s never really liked Nash, or the rest of his crew, they’re always too rowdy, too careless and too friendly with Cobb even though they’re from two different circles.
“What’s up, Nash-o, where’s the rest of ya?”
Nash scowls, fingering the purple and red swell of his nose. “Ha ha. Look, I’m representing today. Saito and Kaneda- don’t even want to know what they’re doing, man, but I’ll split the rewards with them later.”
Eames narrows his eyes at Nash, because of all people to come collect the pay, he wishes it were anyone but this guy. He doesn’t even know how Nash even made it into Saito’s circle, because he reeks of everything but the loyalty Saito likes to preach about when he’s out striking down anyone who opposes him. He guesses Saito likes to use scum to do his dirty work, and wonders how much work does Saito need done to keep Nash around.
Eames watches Cobb dig into his pockets to pull out a bunch of crinkled notes of tens and twenties, handing them to Nash, who starts flicking through them. After he’s satisfied, shoving the wad into his back pocket, Cobb produces a pack of cigarettes.
“Aw, Marlboro, you shouldn’t have,” says Nash, taking a stick out to pop it behind his ear.
“I remembered it was your favourite, baby,” says Cobb, fluttering his eyelashes and Eames bites his bottom lip against everything that he wants to say. But when Nash leans forward to give Cobb a big, smacking kiss on the corner of his mouth, Eames can’t help but growl low in his throat.
Robert jumps at the sound, smacking his knees on the underside of the table while Arthur shoots him a look. Cobb is still smiling at Nash.
“You’d make a good wife to a lucky man, one day, K. Cobb. I just know you will.”
“It’d better be a big diamond then, Nash!” shouts Cobb after him as he walks away, waving his hand, and Arthur touches his shoulder.
Eames doesn’t know what to say, how to react because he’s still seeing Nash kissing Cobb, and it’s unacceptable. Cobb is, Cobb is- not Nash’s, he doesn’t have a right to be anywhere near Cobb like that. He stands up, chair skidding, and pulls Cobb along with him, mumbling about how they’re going for a smoke.
He ignores the threatening look Arthur gives him, pretends he doesn’t know that Arthur is warning him not to hurt Cobb. As if he will, as if he ever has.
Cobb doesn’t fight him, just asks him questions as he tries to keep up with Eames’ pace. He doesn’t let up on the questions until Eames pulls him around the Science hall’s building, slumping back onto the brick wall and pulling out a smoke.
Eames ignores the way Cobb watches him, eyebrows knitted together in concern, but lets Cobb pull him down to the ground so that they’re both seated. He watches Cobb stretch out onto the grass, legs stretching as if they could go for miles, his head resting on Eames’ thigh.
Eames lets a plume of smoke leak from his mouth, closes his eyes against the haze it brings. He jolts when Cobb turns his face to his crotch, mouthing at his cock through the material.
“Homework,” murmurs Cobb and Eames puts a hand on his head, tucking his thumb behind the shell of Cobb’s ear.
-
It’s the weekend and fortunately, it’s a nice time where they’re free of any oncoming due date for homework or assessments.
Eames has his PS3 fired up with Final Fantasy on the screen, Cobb behind him on the bed, watching, though he isn’t doing anything exciting, just grinding for the final chapter. He’s running Hope around on a Chocobo through the fields of Gran Pulse when Cobb decides to slide up against him.
“Jacques,” he says, palming the side of Eames’ neck and Eames doesn’t bother to press pause, just keeps hitting the X button as he turns to shoot Cobb a glare.
“What did I tell you about calling me Jacques, Dominick, and what do you want?”
“You know how we have that really big History paper due in like, three weeks,” says Cobb, sliding his hand down to the waistband of Eames’ boxers, “and I was thinking…”
Cobb doesn’t need to say more because Eames has already hit the pause button, throwing the controller aside in favour of turning to kiss him, pushing him to the floor. The kiss is wet and dirty, Eames opening up for Cobb to lick inside. He drags his fingers through Cobb’s hair, pulling on it to mouth at his neck.
“This means you’re gonna do it, right?” gasps Cobb, shivering when Eames attacks the sensitive spot along his collarbone.
“Yeah, yeah,” murmurs Eames, licking down to Cobb’s nipple, dragging his teeth along the nub, “I’ll do your stupid paper.”
“Righteous,” comments Cobb and Eames bites beneath his protruding ribs, gets a fleeting worry about how skinny Cobb is before it’s chased away by Cobb dragging him back up. He licks across Eames’ lips like a cat, bites at his jaw as he yanks down Eames’ boxers, hand curling around his half-hard cock.
Eames squirms in the grip, planting his hands on either side of Cobb’s head for leverage. He rocks his hips into the hold, biting his lips at the dry burn.
“You’re fucking hot,” says Cobb, looking down and spitting at his cock. The added slick makes the strokes easier, feels better. He looks down and shudders when Cobb thumbs his head, rubbing the wet of the pre-come all over.
“Not so bad yourself,” grunts Eames, catching his lips into another kiss. He sticks his hand down Cobb’s boxers to cup him, grinning wide.
“Thanks,” drawls Cobb, rolling his eyes. He takes his hand away from Eames, wriggling beneath him in an awkward dance to try and shuffle out of his boxers.
Eames sighs at Cobb and hauls him up onto the bed, laughing at the sight of Cobb hitting the surface, bouncing. He yanks off Cobb’s boxers, mouth watering when Cobb spreads his legs wide, cock a hard line against his stomach. He leans down to lick at its sides, rubbing the flat of his tongue along it.
He was being honest when he said Cobb’s cock isn’t bad. It’s hard to describe it without comparing it to his own, but it is a nice size, about six inches hard, and has a nice girth that’s just a little less thick than his.
Eames moves up to suckle on the head before taking the whole thing, Cobb whimpering loudly. He swallows around it, one hand splayed over Cobb’s stomach, the other holding his hip down to control Cobb’s thrust because blowjobs get him crazy and uncontrollable.
Actually anything that’ll lead him to an orgasm gets him crazy and uncontrollable.
“Jacques,” moans Cobb, nails digging into his shoulders and Eames slaps his thigh. Cobb writhes at that and spreads his legs even wider.
Eames licks his way down to Cobb’s hole, tongue rubbing at his perineum, tracing the line to the rim. “Pass me the slick and rubber,” he says, and watches Cobb flail, arm knocking everything off his nightstand to get at the drawer. He laughs a little, then spears Cobb with his tongue, making him swear and slap the things on the bed.
“You fuck,” groans Cobb, “I almost dropped those.”
He hums and pulls away, flipping the lid off the tube and slicks his fingers. He slips two inside, feeling Cobb tighten around the intrusion.
Second to watching Cobb suck him off, is the sight of Cobb’s hole swallowing his fingers, trying to pull them back when he slides out. There’s no hotter sound then the sound Cobb makes when he manages to get his prostate, apart from the begging and the guttural groans.
“Eames, Eames,” calls Cobb, jerking on his fingers, hand slapping at his shoulders.
Eames ignores it all in favour of watching Cobb writhe, the heels of his feet digging hard into Eames’ back.
“Eames!” hisses Cobb, desperate and angry, and his foot comes around to push Eames backward, ass hitting the floor.
“What the fuck?” he questions, looking up to see Cobb sit up and look down at him with a grin, eyes half-lidded, cheeks flushed. Eames growls low in his throat, sees the way Cobb reacts to it when his cock jerk against his stomach.
“Hands and knees,” he says, and Cobb scrambles to obey.
And isn’t that sight alluring; the slant of Cobb’s bare back gleaming with sweat, the round of his ass cheeks and the glisten of his hole between. Eames puts his hand on Cobb’s hip, and another around his cock to guide himself in.
“Fuuuck,” drawls out Cobb, pushing back until he’s flush against Eames’ hips.
“You can say that again,” laughs Eames, groaning as the gesture rocks his body.
“Or you could actually do it,” says Cobb.
Eames palms his hips, looking for purchase before going for it, thrusting in and out. It feels good, Cobb tight and warm around him, and Eames wishes it meant more than just a fuck. He doesn’t want to bring sentiments up during sex but Cobb is his friend, someone he really cherishes. If they didn’t have this strange set-up of homework for sex, Eames thinks he might have tried a hand at wining and dining Cobb just to see his eyes water and a blush grace his cheeks.
Beneath him, Cobb mewls, moving frantically along with his thrusts. Clenching the quilt tight as Eames fucks into him, pulling out until only the head is inside before pushing back in, hips meeting with the plump of Cobb’s ass. He repeats it again and again, making Cobb skitter up the bed, without popping out.
“Fucking love your ass,” grunts Eames, slapping one of Cobb’s buttocks and Cobb growls.
“What did I tell you about porno moves, Jacques!”
Eames ignores him to thrust faster and shallower. Cobb writhes on his cock, jerking his hips around in hopes that Eames will get his prostate.
Eames slaps his ass again, enjoying the way it bounces at the force and Cobb’s audible scowling. Cobb is all skin and bones, but when it comes to his ass cheeks, the fat must’ve just dropped to them because they’re round and fleshy.
What he would give to see Cobb ride him backwards.
“C’mon,” goads Eames, stopping still, hand urging Cobb to move. Cobb tentatively does so, rocking back and forth onto him and Eames moans at the sight, the feel. He watches Cobb wriggle back again, tightening as he leaves and he pops out from Cobb’s hole, slicking up his crack. “For someone who complains about porno moves, you seem to have a lot of them.”
“Well if you fucked me properly, we wouldn’t have this problem would we?” snaps Cobb as Eames pushes himself back in.
“You wanna be a little bitch, you get to come like a little bitch,” he says, laughing as Cobb’s snarl gets muffled when he pushes his face into the bed, hand on the nape of his neck. He fucks Cobb relentless, never stopping once in his short and fast thrusts, trying to get him to come like this.
Cobb makes a muffled sound but doesn’t fight it, just lets Eames keep thrusting until he comes, bent in half, forehead resting on Cobb’s sweat slicked back. When he’s done, he doesn’t pull out, but starts to move again, hand moving to brush against Cobb’s cock, his balls, tight and ready to go.
“C’mon,” murmurs Eames as he swivels his hips and Cobb comes into his cupped hand, face turned to the side to inhale loudly.
When he lets up and Cobb rolls onto his side, he says, “Hate you,” but Eames hears something different.
It might be his imagination.
-
Eames is making his way to the library to pick up a few Cubism books for their group project. He actually volunteered to go, despite the fact that Cobb feigned being too tired to walk, because he knows that Cobb hates the snow more than anything else.
He’s crossing the field of snow to get to the library when a snowball hurtles past him, inches from his face. He blinks, startled, and startles again when another flies past, and another, before one hits him, burning his face with the cold and something else.
Shaking his face free of snow, he puts a hand to the pain radiating from his temple. It comes back red, and he blinks again.
“That’s what you get!” someone jeers and Eames looks up, frowning.
There are two figures a few yards away; Woodruff and one of his lackeys, Carl. It makes Eames sigh to see them because they’re more trouble than they’re worth. Woodruff especially has been after Eames for years, but it’s only when he’s alone that they actually act on their hate.
After all, who’d want to look like an idiot, picking a fight with one of Cobb’s friends in front of Cobb? Cobb’s been called King since the third day of his freshmen year. All the boys simply simpered at Cobb, and the girls at the boarding school down the road made a point to express their attraction to him every time they had a chance to visit.
Cobb doesn’t know why people are so engrossed with him, but Eames knows. Cobb exudes a personality that is both charming and charismatic- so people genuinely want to know Cobb; want to revel in his pretty looks, his interesting stories and his creative drawings.
The one thing that gets people attracted to Cobb, hands down, is how striking he is, and what the sight of him does to these people. Cobb makes the 200 boys in the school want him just because he’s the closest thing to a teenage girl in the whole damn place, and as for the 300 girls down the road, he’s like a contemporary prince; pretty, strong and silent.
“You don’t deserve that ass, you pommy nerd,” says Woodruff, signalling Carl to hurl another snowball.
Eames dodges the flying snow, clenching his teeth in anger. People have said a lot of shit to him over the years; like how he doesn’t deserve to hang out with Cobb because he’s a nerd, or how he must’ve whored himself to be Cobb’s right hand man or even how Cobb only used him to get good grades. And all that is all right with him, because they’re all bad reflections on him.
But when someone says shit to him that reflects badly on Cobb, talking about him like he’s King because he’s a slut- then Eames gets physical. He’s never backed down from any insinuation, no matter how small, because people just don’t get Cobb. They get sad and angry because Cobb doesn’t understand that his easily given affection can be mistaken for flirting.
Woodruff is one of those people who thought that Cobb’s clinging, his touches, his hugs were all leading to something big and that Eames is trying to cock block him.
“Get the fuck out of my face, Woodruff, or so help me,” growls Eames, hands curling into fists.
Woodruff sneers at him, gesturing for Carl to hurl another ball.
Eames takes that moment to charge towards them, closing up the distance. Carl drops the ball when he sees Eames and he rushes away, slipping over in the snow. Woodruff scrambles too, at the proximity and falls to the same fate.
Eames laughs and hauls Woodruff up by the collar. “Well, look what we have here.”
“Teacher!” shouts Woodruff, looking frightened, “Carl?! Right? There’s a teacher, right?!”
Eames grins, razor sharp, and knocks Woodruff back into the snow with his fist. “I. Don’t. Care.”
“You fucker!” shouts Woodruff, slipping to stand up, “Carl?!” And a hand comes out of nowhere and knocks Eames off balance. His eye throbs at the punch and he roars, swinging right back at Carl. He scuffles with them as best as he can, with the two of them clambering over each other to get away, and Eames spits onto the snow after them, not feeling the cold at all. Just pure rage.
He turns away and makes his way towards the library, shivering at the blast of warmth when he gets inside. He heads towards the Art History section, passing the Science to find Yusuf sitting at one of the tables.
“Yusuf, mate,” greets Eames loudly, feeling his irritation melt away along with the cold, ignoring other people’s glares.
Yusuf looks up from his book and raises an eyebrow. He tilts his glasses down his nose and says, “Eames, you’re bleeding all over the place.”
“Am I?” He touches his temple and finds more blood on his fingers. “Huh. So I am.”
“Dude,” says Yusuf, closing his book, “I think I should get you back to my room so I can patch you up.”
“It’s not that bad,” says Eames, wiping his wet fingers on his red scarf. “I’m just here to get some art books, yeah.”
Yusuf stands up, his chair sliding soundlessly across the polished floor. “My room, Eames. Now.”
“Rawwrr,” leers Eames, waggling his eyebrows and follows.
-
“Blood hell!” hisses Eames, jerking as Yusuf wipes down his cut.
“Well if you didn’t get into fights when I only have iodine, then this wouldn’t hurt.”
“It was Woodruff, Yusuf. You know what he says about Cobb.”
Yusuf sighs. “You can’t let every person who tries to get rid of you, rile you up. People will always say things about Cobb, you should know that by now.”
“I know that but. I can’t help it. I don’t like the way people just assume things about him. I don’t like how they’re fawning over how cool he is one second, and then the next they’re fawning over his ass.”
“Of course not, you want to be the only one fawning over his ass.”
“It’s a great ass and it’s mine.”
“Does this mean you guys finally got together?” asks Yusuf, slapping the cut and Eames hisses again.
“You little bitch! I- just. No. We haven’t. Yet.”
Yusuf sighs again, and makes his way to the fridge. “Are you serious? I thought you said you were gonna stop fucking around with him before we all graduate.”
“I know! I know,” says Eames, scratching at the back of his neck feeling awkward. He does remember telling Yusuf how sick he was of being friends with benefits with Cobb, how he actually liked Cobb and wanted to be more but this isn’t a movie, or a fairytale. You can’t just hope shit ends up happily ever after. “But he doesn’t. He likes it like this? I don’t know. It’s always homework and sex, homework and sex, tests and sex. He never makes a move towards wanting something more.”
“Your life. So hard.” Yusuf tosses him ice cubes in a towel and leans his hip against the counter.
“Don’t judge, man, I’ll get it done.” Eames stands up, pressing the cold to his eye. “Any way, thanks for the fix up. Sorry I disturbed your nerd time.”
“Shut up, you’re a nerd too. Just walk me to the library. You haven’t even gotten your books yet.”
-
Eames is half-way to the dorm with four books on Cubism when he sees Cobb running towards him, cheeks and nose flushed red from the cold.
“Eames!” calls Cobb, barrelling into him and Eames drops the books in favour of catching Cobb. “What took you so long! What-” he looks up at Eames and stops, hand shakily touching his face, “What happened?”
Eames shrugs, catching Cobb’s cold hand in his. “Someone accidentally got me with a snowball, no biggie.”
“Bullshit!” swears Cobb, bodily shivering now, and Eames tugs the end of his scarf around Cobb’s neck, looping it once.
When he looks up, tears are trickling from Cobb’s eyes, and he can’t help but kiss him, hoping it would somehow make it all better.
“Don’t lie,” bites out Cobb, burying his face into Eames’ shoulder, “I bumped into Woodruff on my way here.”
Eames pulls the end of his scarf even tighter around Cobb’s neck, feeling the anger spark again. “Did he do anything to you? If he did, I’m going to kick his arse so hard-”
Cobb shakes his head, blond hair tickling Eames’ jaw. “He didn’t. He just hinted that I deserved a better right hand man, someone who had ‘brawns over brains’.” He presses cold lips to Eames’ neck. “I’m sorry people are always trying to usurp you, man. I’m sick of this King business.”
“It’s because they don’t know how much of a bitch you really are,” says Eames, knuckling Cobb’s head lightly.
Cobb makes a sound in response and Eames isn’t sure whether it’s a laugh or a cry.
“C’mon, you girl,” teases Eames, pulling Cobb with him to pick up the library books, lest they both choke, and winces at how wet the pages have gotten. He curls an arm around Cobb’s shoulders and leads them back to their room in silence.
When they arrive, Eames sighing at the blissful warmth, he shucks his end of the scarf plus the books and strips to dump the damp uniform to the floor. He pulls on sweats and a t-shirt, turning around to find Cobb still sitting on the edge of the bed, still dressed.
Eames takes a seat on the ground before him and looks up. “What’s wrong now?”
Cobb stares down at him for an eerie moment before he tips forward into Eames’ lap. “Who would do my homework if you had to go away?”
Eames wants to ask if that’s all his good for, but doesn’t want to know the answer if Cobb just smiles at him and says yes. Instead he goes for the safest bet, “You going to pay me for doing this assessment or what?”
“Yeah,” says Cobb, slipping down his body, pressing an open mouth kiss to his hip.
-
Eames gets a call from his weeping mother at the end of Winter. Apparently his Uncle Jameson has died of a heart attack and she needs him back for the funeral.
He slants a glance at Cobb, who’s still asleep, and bites on his bottom lip.
“How long?” he asks, trying to remember what day it is.
“I need you here for the preparation, and after, Jacques.”
“How long?” repeats Eames.
“Five days,” says his mother and Eames swears silently. Today is a Sunday, and five days probably means he won’t be home until early Saturday. There’s an English test on Tuesday and an Art one Wednesday morning, but Eames knows he can miss them with a letter from his mother, but he thinks about Cobb and how he can’t possibly be prepared for them because for the last few months, he’s been doing nothing but copy Eames one after the other.
It didn’t used to be this bad. There was a time when Cobb actually did his own work, trying to keep up with Eames.
He thinks about what would happen if Cobb scored low for these coming tests, how it wouldn't be a perfect score like Eames would do, or a near perfect that Cobb would normally achieve. Could he blame it on sickness? Or a bout of dizziness or sorrow that left him unable to focus?
“Does it have to be that long?” he asks, slumping back on his bed, rubbing at his eyes.
“I’ve already explained everything to your principal, Jacques. I expect you to be home tonight, I’ll have Cutler contact you about your flight and so forth.” And with that, she hangs up.
Eames grits his teeth and tosses the phone onto the floor, listening to its muffled thump on the carpet. He scrubs hard at his face and exhales loudly. There’s nothing he can do but go home today, his mother is nothing but adamant, and he can’t imagine the kind of shit he’ll get into if he misses the flight.
He rolls off his bed and crosses the room to slide into Cobb’s, ignoring his mumbling incoherent questions, and just spoons behind him.
-
The week had been terrible; five days of his mother shouting orders and crying, and the rest of his family being an annoying thorn in his side. He spent most of his time in his room, headphones clasped over his ears and tried to study, but he kept being yanked out to be shouted out, to stand around looking busy or point people in the right direction.
Coming back is the best thing that could happen all week; he can’t wait to fall into his own bed with Cobb curled up by his side. As soon as he steps through the gates, at the administration office to inform them that he’s back, they whisk him away to seat him at a desk with the English and Art test before him.
He groans, palming his eyes, not because he can’t pass it, but because this was the last thing on his mind.
Armed with a pen, he goes through the questions quickly, just pouring out all the information in his head and onto the paper, finishing them both within an hour.
They shoo him off after and he staggers towards the dorm, unlocking the door to collapse onto his bed.
“You done with your tests then?” asks Cobb from his own bed.
“Yeah, I can’t believe they made me do it as soon as I came back.” He rolls over and gestures Cobb to come over, missing his warmth. “How did you do on yours?”
“We got them back already,” says Cobb, sliding off the bed, hand grabbing the papers off his desk, “I think that’s why they made you do yours a.s.a.p.” He gets on the bed and curls by Eames’ side, throwing an arm over his stomach.
Eames grabs the papers out of Cobb’s hand to look at them, feeling dread form in the pit of his stomach, and he blinks at the perfect mark on both. “Did you… study?”
“Yeah,” says Cobb, nuzzling his shoulder. “I had to; you were at your mum’s, man. It’s not like I can just copy off someone else.”
Eames is boggled, he knows Cobb is good but this- Perfect marks are his thing, not Cobb’s. “Why am I even doing your homework and letting you copy off me if you can do this good on such short notice?” He turns to face Cobb and Cobb looks at him in surprise.
“Huh?”
“Your marks, Cobb, are perfect. How. Why are we-?”
Cobb sits up, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, as a blush spreads across his face. “Cause I don’t study that much, I. Eames. It’s not. I’m not a genius like you, okay, I just. I do study so I wouldn’t be that much lower than you in terms of smartness but.” His shoulders droop and he looks at the ground in desperation.
“What? I don’t understand. Why have you been copying off me, trading sex for all this stuff when you could do just do it on your own? I. Are you just that lazy?”
“I. No. It’s. Because. I wanted to keep you around, you stupid fuck,” says Cobb, eyebrows drawn together.
“So you can use me for my dick?”
“No! I thought I could keep you around with your dick, you dick,” snarls Cobb and that expression looks terrible on his face. Eames sits up, hand cupping his face in an attempt to soothe it away but Cobb flinches instead.
“Sorry, hey, Dominick. Tell me, without swearing at me, what you want.”
“I only traded sex for homework to keep you around,” says Cobb, “That’s the only way I can think of keeping you by my side. That’s what you like, right?” He crawls over Eames and bites on his bottom lip, “You like having sex with me, right? It’s the only reason why you would hang around me anyway.”
“That’s not true,” says Eames, putting a hand on Cobb’s chest, keeping him a distance away. “I thought you just wanted to be friends with benefits. You never made a move. Or said anything. You just kept bargaining with sex.”
“You never made a move too, you didn’t notice how much I worry about you or when I cling to you or try to make you jealous when I cling to Arthur. You just… think it’s all fun,” says Cobb, lips pressed together.
Eames blinks at Cobb, trying to comprehend everything that he’s just said. It can’t be right, because all those things… Eames knows Cobb the best, knows that Cobb worries and clings to him because he can, because that’s what he’s like. He’s always relied on Eames to take care of him and the whole Arthur thing… well, it’s been couple of years since he’s been doing it, it’s nothing strange.
“I… isn’t that just your way? I didn’t know. I. So you want me? Me me? Like everything? I won’t be doing your homework anymore now that I get to have sex for nothing.”
Cobb laughs and it sounds wet, like he’s about to cry. Eames pulls his hand back to let Cobb lean into him, foreheads against each other.
“I think you’ll still do my homework anyway,” he says, and Eames wraps his arms around Cobb, lets him slump against his body.
-
The next day, Cobb won’t leave him alone, won’t leave his side at all. He holds Eames’ hand wherever they go, kisses him in the hallways and in front of class. He hangs off Eames’ shoulders, even though he’s an inch taller, and sits on his lap when he can.
They’re at lunch and Cobb had pulled Eames to sit beside Arthur so that he can sit on his thighs. He curls his arms around Eames’ neck, fingers playing with his collar and bites on the underside of his jaw, licking up to kiss him.
“PDA,” says Arthur, disgusted and Eames smirks at him, smoothing his hand down to palm Cobb’s ass, waggling his eyebrows.
“Aw, I still love you, Arthur,” says Cobb, looking at Arthur with a pout, and leans over to plant a wet kiss on his mouth.
The whole table is shocked silent. Eames blinks at his boyfriend’s smug face. Adjacent to them, Robert makes a really terrible whimper.
Arthur wipes at his mouth with his sleeve, cursing, and stands up. “Urgh, Dom! I don’t- the places your mouth has been!” He slants a look at Eames and grimaces even more.
Cobb grins and turns to look at Eames.
Eames shakes his head, and can’t help but grin back.
The story of two teenagers; Cobb and Eames, failboats in love.
Written for forgerness who contributed to help_nz, thanks for being awesome and thanks for the prompt! Sorry it took so long ♥ & Title from Gym Class Heroes' On My Own Time (Write On!) + Have some art I drew a while back, inspired by the prompt. + Beta'd by saintdogstreet .
Eames groans and slams his fist onto the table. He hadn’t anticipated for this to happen on the edge of his desk but he should’ve known. Cobb’s an insatiable and demanding little bitch at times, and damn if Eames doesn’t love it when it comes to sex.
The way Cobb’s deceivingly small mouth and slight lips looks, stretched around his cock, is sexy as hell. He watches that mouth pull off to suck at his balls and curls a hand around his cock to slap it against the side of Cobb’s face, delighting in the scowl that forms because he knows Cobb hates it when he pulls porno moves on him.
“Not funny, man,” says Cobb, biting at his inner thigh in punishment. He slaps away Eames’ hand to replace it with his own, staring with hungry eyes at the peeking head.
Eames gets the sudden urge to boast about his size, shove his cock into Cobb’s mouth so he can gag on it. He’s been there with a measuring tape and on Google as well. He knows he’s above average with it being six inches at rest and eight inches when hard.
“Hey, are you zoning out on me? I’m not good enough for you?” asks Cobb, and when he has Eames’ attention, he slurps at the head of his cock, tonguing wetly under the head. Eames can’t help but moan at that, at the feeling of Cobb’s mouth sinking over the rest of the length and his hips stutters forward, trying to get more of that wet heat. Cobb takes it all like a pro, and he practically is with how many blowjobs he’s given Eames, bobbing his head back and forth, hand stroking the rest.
Eames grunts at the pleasure rolling through his body and grips the edge of the desk tight, fighting the urge to grab Cobb’s hair and just fuck his face. He’s almost there when Cobb runs a hand down his thigh, mouth popping off to say, “C’mon Jacquey, c’mon,” before he’s jacking Eames off, mouth open and waiting.
“Don’t bloody-” growls Eames and he comes in Cobb’s open mouth, streaking his cheek with a line of come, “call me Jacquey. Or Jacques.”
Cobb hums tunelessly at him, thumbing the spilt come into his mouth before grinning wide at him. “But you love it when I talk dirty, baby. Call you Jacques and coo about how you make my jaw ache.” He gets on his feet and kisses Eames tentatively, like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to, and Eames grabs him by the hips, pulling him close to slip him some tongue.
“You don’t have to swallow, you know,” says Eames when they break apart.
Cobb shrugs, looking slightly sheepish. “Just letting you taste yourself, you dirty bastard.”
Eames raises an eyebrow but doesn’t comment on Cobb’s words. Sometimes he doesn’t understand what’s going through that blond head of his. “Alright, whatever, hand over your books.” He puts out a hand and Cobb dives towards his bag to pull out his Math and English books. The pages are curling at the corners, the covers covered in black, blue and red ink that consist of towering buildings with sweeping arches, cutting supports and curvy columns.
“You’re gonna help me with my Physics homework too, right?” asks Cobb, biting on his bottom lip and Eames rolls his eyes.
“How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t take Physics AP like you? You know I do Drama when you go off.”
“But that doesn’t mean you can’t, besides, it hasn’t stopped you from doing it thus far,” says Cobb, pulling out the book with its distinct Bauhaus Dessau building on the cover.
Eames puts down the two books he’s holding and pulls up his pants, zipping it up. “A fuck for Physics then,” he bargains and watches Cobb squirm in the spot, knows that he’s thinking about this morning when Eames fucked him against the window at six in the morning, teasing him about how anyone could wake up and see them like this.
He smirks and Cobb flushes. “Deal,” he says, “just- not now, yeah?”
“I guess,” says Eames. “Should start on the homework anyway.” He steps forward to palm Cobb in his school slacks, already hard from just blowing Eames, “keep this for me then, yeah? I’ll be back for it.” He gives Cobb a soft squeeze before grabbing Cobb’s Physics book and turns back to his study desk. He pulls the chair out and takes a seat.
As he reaches for a black pen from his jar, Cobb says, “Oh fuck it,” and pulls the chair back to slide onto his lap, straddling him. Eames groans as Cobb grinds down, already hardening, ready for a second round.
The perks of being a teenager.
-
“Did you see what Robert’s wearing?” asks Cobb, craning his head down to get a light from Eames. Eames presses his already lit cigarette to Cobb’s, sucking on it to make it glow.
“Armani again,” drawls Eames, smoke filtering in wisps from the corners of his mouth, “I didn’t even know you could get Armani to make a uniform.”
“And yet there he is,” says Cobb, pulling back to suck and blow, blond hair falling into his eyes.
“There he is,” repeats Eames, tilting his head to see the sunlight catch on Cobb’s blue earring. The corner of his lips quirk up at the memory of the teachers making a fuss over Cobb’s sudden brazen decision to get both his ears pierced, and how he flaunted it by wearing bright blues one. Eames thinks it looks good on him, likes how it matches his eyes and the blue of their uniform.
“Hey, did you hand in my Physics homework?”
Eames flicks his ashes towards the toilet bowl and scowls. “Do I look like your errand boy? I put it on your desk when I was done.”
“Fuck!” swears Cobb, running a hand through his hair. “I have to go get it and hand it in later.”
“Rodriguez’s gonna know you skipped though,” says Eames, watching Cobb fret about his homework and maintaining the grade of an A+ student while sporting the attitude of a slouch and the reputation of being the King of school.
It’s funny that the one class they don’t take together, is the one class they skip out on to hang out with each other; walking the school grounds, lying in their room or hanging in the toilets smoking.
Thinking on it now, Eames wonders when they’ll get sick of each other and if it’ll be any time soon.
“Fuck that,” says Cobb, shrugging. He takes long drags of his cigarette before dropping the butt into the toilet and flushing. “I put my ass on the line for that homework, I’m gonna hand it in. You coming?”
Eames shrugs, the Science hall is the furthest away from the Arts hall so there shouldn’t be a chance of him being caught out on skipping. He follows Cobb out, smoking on the short stub of his cigarette, breathing smoke out of his nose. He half-waves when he sees Yusuf making his way to the library, obviously having sucked up enough to a teacher to abandon the normal study hall location.
“You’re a kiss arse!” he calls, dropping the butt of his cigarette to the ground and stepping it out. He pulls the school blazer tighter around his shoulders, trying to fight off the autumn’s cold.
Yusuf just blows a kiss in response.
“Mr. Eames!”
Eames cringes and he hears Cobb swear under his breath.
“Good afternoon, Bellamy,” greets Eames, turning around and smoothing his hair down. He gives their English teacher a wide smile and sees Cobb do the same. “And how are you on this fine yet cool day?
“Oh drop the act, Jacques. And it’s Mrs. Bellamy,” says Bellamy, cocking a hip, “You boys aren’t in class.”
“Study hall. Cobb and I are just going to get our textbooks from our dorm room.”
She frowns at them. “Let me see your schedules then.”
Eames doesn’t even pretend to rummage through his pockets to look for one, just says, “Sorry, Bell, looks like the paper and I parted ways.”
“Actually, I’ve got it,” says Cobb, pulling out a piece of paper and Eames is caught by surprise. They actually don’t have study hall now, and if that paper has any of Eames’ obscene drawings of Cobb’s ass taking his cock then they’re definitely going to get into a world of trouble. But Bellamy just huffs and hands it back.
“Do be quick then, Jacques, Dominick.”
Eames salutes her before dragging Cobb off.
“What the hell?” he questions when they’re out of earshot and Cobb hands Eames the paper that clearly states they have study hall this period. “How the hell?”
“I make copies where we have study period like every period,” says Cobb, a lazy smirk on his face and Eames just wants to kiss him, so he does. He grabs Cobb by his outrageously blond hair and drags him in for a kiss, biting on his bottom lip before slipping his tongue in. Cobb opens easily for him, hands automatically coming to his shoulder for purchase.
“You’re a superstar, love,” he says against Cobb’s jaw and pulls away.
Cobb makes a small sound in the back of his throat.
-
They’re stuck in Maths, doing a test in the fifth period. It’s not overly complicated, seeing as how Eames has already finished ten minutes ago, but he’s stuck here until Cobb makes his move.
See, Cobb usually gets too lazy to do his tests as well, so he copies off Eames. The way Eames knows if Cobb wants to cheat or not is if he kicks the back of his chair- a slight knock means Cobb doesn’t need him and a hard jolt means that Cobb wants to copy.
He gets the big kick two minutes later and sighs. All he has to do now is wait for his cue, wait for Cobb’s grand scheme of distraction so that Eames can slip him his paper without the teacher noticing.
It all starts to unravel when he recognises the three students known as Saito, Nash and Kaneda get up from their seats, dropping their papers onto the teacher’s desk.
As they walk out, Nash trips Saito so that he falls into the board, gashing his arm open on the corner of the little tray made to hold the white board markers. Saito gets up, blood welling from his wound and punches Nash right in the face. The resounding crunch after makes Eames wince cause that’s gotta hurt.
Contrary to what he thinks, Kaneda laughs out loud while Nash stares dumbly at the blood staining his school uniform. Once he’s snapped out of the shock, he swears and launches at Saito, fingers curling around his shirt’s collar and the both of them are rolling out the door. Kaneda runs after them, encouraging the fight loudly and Mr. Lee watches this all, shocked.
It’s always fun to see how a new teacher reacts to a student fight.
They keep hearing Kaneda shout, and the sounds of slams against the walls and lockers. The class gets another glimpse when Kaneda slams the grappling pair into the open door of the class, before they all pull outside again.
That seems to get Mr. Lee going, because he gets out of his chair, yelling at the trio to cease fighting and half the class have abandoned their papers to crane their bodies out of their seats to watch the debacle.
Eames slips Cobb his test paper, and sprawls just enough in his seat so that he covers Cobb from sight.
They hear other teachers step in to try and fix the problem outside, shouting, but the boys are nothing but thorough in their job and their roughhousing continues on, dragging down the hall.
By the time they’re done, Cobb has copied all the answers and slipped back Eames his test paper. The both of them look bored out of their mind as Mr. Lee comes back in to slouch in his chair.
Eames watches Cobb get out of his seat first, dropping his paper on the desk as Mr. Lee tries to fix his dishevelled appearance. Eames follows minutes after, dragging the waiting Cobb towards the bathroom for payment.
“You’ve got fifteen minutes to rub against me until we both come and then we’ve gotta hit our room to change into new underwear,” says Eames, grabbing Cobb’s hips and grinding against them.
Cobb doesn’t say a word, just moans brokenly and Eames tilts his head for a kiss, then two, then three. He keeps kissing Cobb as he pushes their hips together in a slow rub, and bites down on Cobb’s bottom lip when he comes.
-
Lunch is spent with all the years, freshmen through to seniors, as the school isn’t that big. Eames take a seat beside Robert while Cobb takes a seat opposite to him but right beside Arthur.
Eames snort derisively.
While Robert is a rich boy with brains, he’s a little fragile in personality. He’s known Cobb since they were young though. Their fathers had been business partners and Robert had just naturally clung to Cobb and stayed that way since. It doesn’t annoy Eames, the way he vies for Cobb’s attention, because it’s understandable. Robert has a history of always being neglected; his mother passed when he was young, his father too busy and his uncle-
Don’t even get Eames started on his uncle.
Arthur though, he doesn’t command Cobb’s attention, but Cobb willingly gives it to him anyway. Arthur is like no one they’ve met before, a junior who has already passed all his AP classes with flying colours, a student who wears his uniform like a suit; all polished oxfords and slacks ironed with a crease in them. He even adds a black waistcoat that the teachers don’t reprimand him for, too mesmerised by the gorgeous silk back whenever Arthur takes off his jacket.
Eames kinds of hates how perfect Arthur is, and he’s sure Arthur also has beef with him. They always seem to be clashing at one point or another, but really, they’re friends at heart.
If only Cobb would just stop.
“Cobb, I need my arm to eat,” says Arthur, all cool and composed but Cobb clings even more, blinking baby blues at him.
“You can eat with one arm, Arthur, Eames does it all the time.”
At the mention of his name, Eames grins and shoves a fry into his mouth. Robert sighs audibly beside him.
“Then why don’t you go cling to his arm instead,” says Arthur, shrugging as if to dislodge Cobb, but he’s not trying very hard.
“I cling onto him all the time, it’s your turn!”
“Thanks for that, Arthur,” salutes Eames, playing along while he tracks the way Arthur smiles softly at Cobb. He rolls his shoulders and stretches out his arms. “It’s good to be able to use both arms once in awhile.”
“Hey, King Cobby.”
Everyone shifts their attention to the newcomer.
Cobb smiles wide at the sight of Nash slinking up to the table and leaning his hip against its edge.
Eames clenches his hands into fists beneath the table. To be honest, he’s never really liked Nash, or the rest of his crew, they’re always too rowdy, too careless and too friendly with Cobb even though they’re from two different circles.
“What’s up, Nash-o, where’s the rest of ya?”
Nash scowls, fingering the purple and red swell of his nose. “Ha ha. Look, I’m representing today. Saito and Kaneda- don’t even want to know what they’re doing, man, but I’ll split the rewards with them later.”
Eames narrows his eyes at Nash, because of all people to come collect the pay, he wishes it were anyone but this guy. He doesn’t even know how Nash even made it into Saito’s circle, because he reeks of everything but the loyalty Saito likes to preach about when he’s out striking down anyone who opposes him. He guesses Saito likes to use scum to do his dirty work, and wonders how much work does Saito need done to keep Nash around.
Eames watches Cobb dig into his pockets to pull out a bunch of crinkled notes of tens and twenties, handing them to Nash, who starts flicking through them. After he’s satisfied, shoving the wad into his back pocket, Cobb produces a pack of cigarettes.
“Aw, Marlboro, you shouldn’t have,” says Nash, taking a stick out to pop it behind his ear.
“I remembered it was your favourite, baby,” says Cobb, fluttering his eyelashes and Eames bites his bottom lip against everything that he wants to say. But when Nash leans forward to give Cobb a big, smacking kiss on the corner of his mouth, Eames can’t help but growl low in his throat.
Robert jumps at the sound, smacking his knees on the underside of the table while Arthur shoots him a look. Cobb is still smiling at Nash.
“You’d make a good wife to a lucky man, one day, K. Cobb. I just know you will.”
“It’d better be a big diamond then, Nash!” shouts Cobb after him as he walks away, waving his hand, and Arthur touches his shoulder.
Eames doesn’t know what to say, how to react because he’s still seeing Nash kissing Cobb, and it’s unacceptable. Cobb is, Cobb is- not Nash’s, he doesn’t have a right to be anywhere near Cobb like that. He stands up, chair skidding, and pulls Cobb along with him, mumbling about how they’re going for a smoke.
He ignores the threatening look Arthur gives him, pretends he doesn’t know that Arthur is warning him not to hurt Cobb. As if he will, as if he ever has.
Cobb doesn’t fight him, just asks him questions as he tries to keep up with Eames’ pace. He doesn’t let up on the questions until Eames pulls him around the Science hall’s building, slumping back onto the brick wall and pulling out a smoke.
Eames ignores the way Cobb watches him, eyebrows knitted together in concern, but lets Cobb pull him down to the ground so that they’re both seated. He watches Cobb stretch out onto the grass, legs stretching as if they could go for miles, his head resting on Eames’ thigh.
Eames lets a plume of smoke leak from his mouth, closes his eyes against the haze it brings. He jolts when Cobb turns his face to his crotch, mouthing at his cock through the material.
“Homework,” murmurs Cobb and Eames puts a hand on his head, tucking his thumb behind the shell of Cobb’s ear.
-
It’s the weekend and fortunately, it’s a nice time where they’re free of any oncoming due date for homework or assessments.
Eames has his PS3 fired up with Final Fantasy on the screen, Cobb behind him on the bed, watching, though he isn’t doing anything exciting, just grinding for the final chapter. He’s running Hope around on a Chocobo through the fields of Gran Pulse when Cobb decides to slide up against him.
“Jacques,” he says, palming the side of Eames’ neck and Eames doesn’t bother to press pause, just keeps hitting the X button as he turns to shoot Cobb a glare.
“What did I tell you about calling me Jacques, Dominick, and what do you want?”
“You know how we have that really big History paper due in like, three weeks,” says Cobb, sliding his hand down to the waistband of Eames’ boxers, “and I was thinking…”
Cobb doesn’t need to say more because Eames has already hit the pause button, throwing the controller aside in favour of turning to kiss him, pushing him to the floor. The kiss is wet and dirty, Eames opening up for Cobb to lick inside. He drags his fingers through Cobb’s hair, pulling on it to mouth at his neck.
“This means you’re gonna do it, right?” gasps Cobb, shivering when Eames attacks the sensitive spot along his collarbone.
“Yeah, yeah,” murmurs Eames, licking down to Cobb’s nipple, dragging his teeth along the nub, “I’ll do your stupid paper.”
“Righteous,” comments Cobb and Eames bites beneath his protruding ribs, gets a fleeting worry about how skinny Cobb is before it’s chased away by Cobb dragging him back up. He licks across Eames’ lips like a cat, bites at his jaw as he yanks down Eames’ boxers, hand curling around his half-hard cock.
Eames squirms in the grip, planting his hands on either side of Cobb’s head for leverage. He rocks his hips into the hold, biting his lips at the dry burn.
“You’re fucking hot,” says Cobb, looking down and spitting at his cock. The added slick makes the strokes easier, feels better. He looks down and shudders when Cobb thumbs his head, rubbing the wet of the pre-come all over.
“Not so bad yourself,” grunts Eames, catching his lips into another kiss. He sticks his hand down Cobb’s boxers to cup him, grinning wide.
“Thanks,” drawls Cobb, rolling his eyes. He takes his hand away from Eames, wriggling beneath him in an awkward dance to try and shuffle out of his boxers.
Eames sighs at Cobb and hauls him up onto the bed, laughing at the sight of Cobb hitting the surface, bouncing. He yanks off Cobb’s boxers, mouth watering when Cobb spreads his legs wide, cock a hard line against his stomach. He leans down to lick at its sides, rubbing the flat of his tongue along it.
He was being honest when he said Cobb’s cock isn’t bad. It’s hard to describe it without comparing it to his own, but it is a nice size, about six inches hard, and has a nice girth that’s just a little less thick than his.
Eames moves up to suckle on the head before taking the whole thing, Cobb whimpering loudly. He swallows around it, one hand splayed over Cobb’s stomach, the other holding his hip down to control Cobb’s thrust because blowjobs get him crazy and uncontrollable.
Actually anything that’ll lead him to an orgasm gets him crazy and uncontrollable.
“Jacques,” moans Cobb, nails digging into his shoulders and Eames slaps his thigh. Cobb writhes at that and spreads his legs even wider.
Eames licks his way down to Cobb’s hole, tongue rubbing at his perineum, tracing the line to the rim. “Pass me the slick and rubber,” he says, and watches Cobb flail, arm knocking everything off his nightstand to get at the drawer. He laughs a little, then spears Cobb with his tongue, making him swear and slap the things on the bed.
“You fuck,” groans Cobb, “I almost dropped those.”
He hums and pulls away, flipping the lid off the tube and slicks his fingers. He slips two inside, feeling Cobb tighten around the intrusion.
Second to watching Cobb suck him off, is the sight of Cobb’s hole swallowing his fingers, trying to pull them back when he slides out. There’s no hotter sound then the sound Cobb makes when he manages to get his prostate, apart from the begging and the guttural groans.
“Eames, Eames,” calls Cobb, jerking on his fingers, hand slapping at his shoulders.
Eames ignores it all in favour of watching Cobb writhe, the heels of his feet digging hard into Eames’ back.
“Eames!” hisses Cobb, desperate and angry, and his foot comes around to push Eames backward, ass hitting the floor.
“What the fuck?” he questions, looking up to see Cobb sit up and look down at him with a grin, eyes half-lidded, cheeks flushed. Eames growls low in his throat, sees the way Cobb reacts to it when his cock jerk against his stomach.
“Hands and knees,” he says, and Cobb scrambles to obey.
And isn’t that sight alluring; the slant of Cobb’s bare back gleaming with sweat, the round of his ass cheeks and the glisten of his hole between. Eames puts his hand on Cobb’s hip, and another around his cock to guide himself in.
“Fuuuck,” drawls out Cobb, pushing back until he’s flush against Eames’ hips.
“You can say that again,” laughs Eames, groaning as the gesture rocks his body.
“Or you could actually do it,” says Cobb.
Eames palms his hips, looking for purchase before going for it, thrusting in and out. It feels good, Cobb tight and warm around him, and Eames wishes it meant more than just a fuck. He doesn’t want to bring sentiments up during sex but Cobb is his friend, someone he really cherishes. If they didn’t have this strange set-up of homework for sex, Eames thinks he might have tried a hand at wining and dining Cobb just to see his eyes water and a blush grace his cheeks.
Beneath him, Cobb mewls, moving frantically along with his thrusts. Clenching the quilt tight as Eames fucks into him, pulling out until only the head is inside before pushing back in, hips meeting with the plump of Cobb’s ass. He repeats it again and again, making Cobb skitter up the bed, without popping out.
“Fucking love your ass,” grunts Eames, slapping one of Cobb’s buttocks and Cobb growls.
“What did I tell you about porno moves, Jacques!”
Eames ignores him to thrust faster and shallower. Cobb writhes on his cock, jerking his hips around in hopes that Eames will get his prostate.
Eames slaps his ass again, enjoying the way it bounces at the force and Cobb’s audible scowling. Cobb is all skin and bones, but when it comes to his ass cheeks, the fat must’ve just dropped to them because they’re round and fleshy.
What he would give to see Cobb ride him backwards.
“C’mon,” goads Eames, stopping still, hand urging Cobb to move. Cobb tentatively does so, rocking back and forth onto him and Eames moans at the sight, the feel. He watches Cobb wriggle back again, tightening as he leaves and he pops out from Cobb’s hole, slicking up his crack. “For someone who complains about porno moves, you seem to have a lot of them.”
“Well if you fucked me properly, we wouldn’t have this problem would we?” snaps Cobb as Eames pushes himself back in.
“You wanna be a little bitch, you get to come like a little bitch,” he says, laughing as Cobb’s snarl gets muffled when he pushes his face into the bed, hand on the nape of his neck. He fucks Cobb relentless, never stopping once in his short and fast thrusts, trying to get him to come like this.
Cobb makes a muffled sound but doesn’t fight it, just lets Eames keep thrusting until he comes, bent in half, forehead resting on Cobb’s sweat slicked back. When he’s done, he doesn’t pull out, but starts to move again, hand moving to brush against Cobb’s cock, his balls, tight and ready to go.
“C’mon,” murmurs Eames as he swivels his hips and Cobb comes into his cupped hand, face turned to the side to inhale loudly.
When he lets up and Cobb rolls onto his side, he says, “Hate you,” but Eames hears something different.
It might be his imagination.
-
Eames is making his way to the library to pick up a few Cubism books for their group project. He actually volunteered to go, despite the fact that Cobb feigned being too tired to walk, because he knows that Cobb hates the snow more than anything else.
He’s crossing the field of snow to get to the library when a snowball hurtles past him, inches from his face. He blinks, startled, and startles again when another flies past, and another, before one hits him, burning his face with the cold and something else.
Shaking his face free of snow, he puts a hand to the pain radiating from his temple. It comes back red, and he blinks again.
“That’s what you get!” someone jeers and Eames looks up, frowning.
There are two figures a few yards away; Woodruff and one of his lackeys, Carl. It makes Eames sigh to see them because they’re more trouble than they’re worth. Woodruff especially has been after Eames for years, but it’s only when he’s alone that they actually act on their hate.
After all, who’d want to look like an idiot, picking a fight with one of Cobb’s friends in front of Cobb? Cobb’s been called King since the third day of his freshmen year. All the boys simply simpered at Cobb, and the girls at the boarding school down the road made a point to express their attraction to him every time they had a chance to visit.
Cobb doesn’t know why people are so engrossed with him, but Eames knows. Cobb exudes a personality that is both charming and charismatic- so people genuinely want to know Cobb; want to revel in his pretty looks, his interesting stories and his creative drawings.
The one thing that gets people attracted to Cobb, hands down, is how striking he is, and what the sight of him does to these people. Cobb makes the 200 boys in the school want him just because he’s the closest thing to a teenage girl in the whole damn place, and as for the 300 girls down the road, he’s like a contemporary prince; pretty, strong and silent.
“You don’t deserve that ass, you pommy nerd,” says Woodruff, signalling Carl to hurl another snowball.
Eames dodges the flying snow, clenching his teeth in anger. People have said a lot of shit to him over the years; like how he doesn’t deserve to hang out with Cobb because he’s a nerd, or how he must’ve whored himself to be Cobb’s right hand man or even how Cobb only used him to get good grades. And all that is all right with him, because they’re all bad reflections on him.
But when someone says shit to him that reflects badly on Cobb, talking about him like he’s King because he’s a slut- then Eames gets physical. He’s never backed down from any insinuation, no matter how small, because people just don’t get Cobb. They get sad and angry because Cobb doesn’t understand that his easily given affection can be mistaken for flirting.
Woodruff is one of those people who thought that Cobb’s clinging, his touches, his hugs were all leading to something big and that Eames is trying to cock block him.
“Get the fuck out of my face, Woodruff, or so help me,” growls Eames, hands curling into fists.
Woodruff sneers at him, gesturing for Carl to hurl another ball.
Eames takes that moment to charge towards them, closing up the distance. Carl drops the ball when he sees Eames and he rushes away, slipping over in the snow. Woodruff scrambles too, at the proximity and falls to the same fate.
Eames laughs and hauls Woodruff up by the collar. “Well, look what we have here.”
“Teacher!” shouts Woodruff, looking frightened, “Carl?! Right? There’s a teacher, right?!”
Eames grins, razor sharp, and knocks Woodruff back into the snow with his fist. “I. Don’t. Care.”
“You fucker!” shouts Woodruff, slipping to stand up, “Carl?!” And a hand comes out of nowhere and knocks Eames off balance. His eye throbs at the punch and he roars, swinging right back at Carl. He scuffles with them as best as he can, with the two of them clambering over each other to get away, and Eames spits onto the snow after them, not feeling the cold at all. Just pure rage.
He turns away and makes his way towards the library, shivering at the blast of warmth when he gets inside. He heads towards the Art History section, passing the Science to find Yusuf sitting at one of the tables.
“Yusuf, mate,” greets Eames loudly, feeling his irritation melt away along with the cold, ignoring other people’s glares.
Yusuf looks up from his book and raises an eyebrow. He tilts his glasses down his nose and says, “Eames, you’re bleeding all over the place.”
“Am I?” He touches his temple and finds more blood on his fingers. “Huh. So I am.”
“Dude,” says Yusuf, closing his book, “I think I should get you back to my room so I can patch you up.”
“It’s not that bad,” says Eames, wiping his wet fingers on his red scarf. “I’m just here to get some art books, yeah.”
Yusuf stands up, his chair sliding soundlessly across the polished floor. “My room, Eames. Now.”
“Rawwrr,” leers Eames, waggling his eyebrows and follows.
-
“Blood hell!” hisses Eames, jerking as Yusuf wipes down his cut.
“Well if you didn’t get into fights when I only have iodine, then this wouldn’t hurt.”
“It was Woodruff, Yusuf. You know what he says about Cobb.”
Yusuf sighs. “You can’t let every person who tries to get rid of you, rile you up. People will always say things about Cobb, you should know that by now.”
“I know that but. I can’t help it. I don’t like the way people just assume things about him. I don’t like how they’re fawning over how cool he is one second, and then the next they’re fawning over his ass.”
“Of course not, you want to be the only one fawning over his ass.”
“It’s a great ass and it’s mine.”
“Does this mean you guys finally got together?” asks Yusuf, slapping the cut and Eames hisses again.
“You little bitch! I- just. No. We haven’t. Yet.”
Yusuf sighs again, and makes his way to the fridge. “Are you serious? I thought you said you were gonna stop fucking around with him before we all graduate.”
“I know! I know,” says Eames, scratching at the back of his neck feeling awkward. He does remember telling Yusuf how sick he was of being friends with benefits with Cobb, how he actually liked Cobb and wanted to be more but this isn’t a movie, or a fairytale. You can’t just hope shit ends up happily ever after. “But he doesn’t. He likes it like this? I don’t know. It’s always homework and sex, homework and sex, tests and sex. He never makes a move towards wanting something more.”
“Your life. So hard.” Yusuf tosses him ice cubes in a towel and leans his hip against the counter.
“Don’t judge, man, I’ll get it done.” Eames stands up, pressing the cold to his eye. “Any way, thanks for the fix up. Sorry I disturbed your nerd time.”
“Shut up, you’re a nerd too. Just walk me to the library. You haven’t even gotten your books yet.”
-
Eames is half-way to the dorm with four books on Cubism when he sees Cobb running towards him, cheeks and nose flushed red from the cold.
“Eames!” calls Cobb, barrelling into him and Eames drops the books in favour of catching Cobb. “What took you so long! What-” he looks up at Eames and stops, hand shakily touching his face, “What happened?”
Eames shrugs, catching Cobb’s cold hand in his. “Someone accidentally got me with a snowball, no biggie.”
“Bullshit!” swears Cobb, bodily shivering now, and Eames tugs the end of his scarf around Cobb’s neck, looping it once.
When he looks up, tears are trickling from Cobb’s eyes, and he can’t help but kiss him, hoping it would somehow make it all better.
“Don’t lie,” bites out Cobb, burying his face into Eames’ shoulder, “I bumped into Woodruff on my way here.”
Eames pulls the end of his scarf even tighter around Cobb’s neck, feeling the anger spark again. “Did he do anything to you? If he did, I’m going to kick his arse so hard-”
Cobb shakes his head, blond hair tickling Eames’ jaw. “He didn’t. He just hinted that I deserved a better right hand man, someone who had ‘brawns over brains’.” He presses cold lips to Eames’ neck. “I’m sorry people are always trying to usurp you, man. I’m sick of this King business.”
“It’s because they don’t know how much of a bitch you really are,” says Eames, knuckling Cobb’s head lightly.
Cobb makes a sound in response and Eames isn’t sure whether it’s a laugh or a cry.
“C’mon, you girl,” teases Eames, pulling Cobb with him to pick up the library books, lest they both choke, and winces at how wet the pages have gotten. He curls an arm around Cobb’s shoulders and leads them back to their room in silence.
When they arrive, Eames sighing at the blissful warmth, he shucks his end of the scarf plus the books and strips to dump the damp uniform to the floor. He pulls on sweats and a t-shirt, turning around to find Cobb still sitting on the edge of the bed, still dressed.
Eames takes a seat on the ground before him and looks up. “What’s wrong now?”
Cobb stares down at him for an eerie moment before he tips forward into Eames’ lap. “Who would do my homework if you had to go away?”
Eames wants to ask if that’s all his good for, but doesn’t want to know the answer if Cobb just smiles at him and says yes. Instead he goes for the safest bet, “You going to pay me for doing this assessment or what?”
“Yeah,” says Cobb, slipping down his body, pressing an open mouth kiss to his hip.
-
Eames gets a call from his weeping mother at the end of Winter. Apparently his Uncle Jameson has died of a heart attack and she needs him back for the funeral.
He slants a glance at Cobb, who’s still asleep, and bites on his bottom lip.
“How long?” he asks, trying to remember what day it is.
“I need you here for the preparation, and after, Jacques.”
“How long?” repeats Eames.
“Five days,” says his mother and Eames swears silently. Today is a Sunday, and five days probably means he won’t be home until early Saturday. There’s an English test on Tuesday and an Art one Wednesday morning, but Eames knows he can miss them with a letter from his mother, but he thinks about Cobb and how he can’t possibly be prepared for them because for the last few months, he’s been doing nothing but copy Eames one after the other.
It didn’t used to be this bad. There was a time when Cobb actually did his own work, trying to keep up with Eames.
He thinks about what would happen if Cobb scored low for these coming tests, how it wouldn't be a perfect score like Eames would do, or a near perfect that Cobb would normally achieve. Could he blame it on sickness? Or a bout of dizziness or sorrow that left him unable to focus?
“Does it have to be that long?” he asks, slumping back on his bed, rubbing at his eyes.
“I’ve already explained everything to your principal, Jacques. I expect you to be home tonight, I’ll have Cutler contact you about your flight and so forth.” And with that, she hangs up.
Eames grits his teeth and tosses the phone onto the floor, listening to its muffled thump on the carpet. He scrubs hard at his face and exhales loudly. There’s nothing he can do but go home today, his mother is nothing but adamant, and he can’t imagine the kind of shit he’ll get into if he misses the flight.
He rolls off his bed and crosses the room to slide into Cobb’s, ignoring his mumbling incoherent questions, and just spoons behind him.
-
The week had been terrible; five days of his mother shouting orders and crying, and the rest of his family being an annoying thorn in his side. He spent most of his time in his room, headphones clasped over his ears and tried to study, but he kept being yanked out to be shouted out, to stand around looking busy or point people in the right direction.
Coming back is the best thing that could happen all week; he can’t wait to fall into his own bed with Cobb curled up by his side. As soon as he steps through the gates, at the administration office to inform them that he’s back, they whisk him away to seat him at a desk with the English and Art test before him.
He groans, palming his eyes, not because he can’t pass it, but because this was the last thing on his mind.
Armed with a pen, he goes through the questions quickly, just pouring out all the information in his head and onto the paper, finishing them both within an hour.
They shoo him off after and he staggers towards the dorm, unlocking the door to collapse onto his bed.
“You done with your tests then?” asks Cobb from his own bed.
“Yeah, I can’t believe they made me do it as soon as I came back.” He rolls over and gestures Cobb to come over, missing his warmth. “How did you do on yours?”
“We got them back already,” says Cobb, sliding off the bed, hand grabbing the papers off his desk, “I think that’s why they made you do yours a.s.a.p.” He gets on the bed and curls by Eames’ side, throwing an arm over his stomach.
Eames grabs the papers out of Cobb’s hand to look at them, feeling dread form in the pit of his stomach, and he blinks at the perfect mark on both. “Did you… study?”
“Yeah,” says Cobb, nuzzling his shoulder. “I had to; you were at your mum’s, man. It’s not like I can just copy off someone else.”
Eames is boggled, he knows Cobb is good but this- Perfect marks are his thing, not Cobb’s. “Why am I even doing your homework and letting you copy off me if you can do this good on such short notice?” He turns to face Cobb and Cobb looks at him in surprise.
“Huh?”
“Your marks, Cobb, are perfect. How. Why are we-?”
Cobb sits up, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, as a blush spreads across his face. “Cause I don’t study that much, I. Eames. It’s not. I’m not a genius like you, okay, I just. I do study so I wouldn’t be that much lower than you in terms of smartness but.” His shoulders droop and he looks at the ground in desperation.
“What? I don’t understand. Why have you been copying off me, trading sex for all this stuff when you could do just do it on your own? I. Are you just that lazy?”
“I. No. It’s. Because. I wanted to keep you around, you stupid fuck,” says Cobb, eyebrows drawn together.
“So you can use me for my dick?”
“No! I thought I could keep you around with your dick, you dick,” snarls Cobb and that expression looks terrible on his face. Eames sits up, hand cupping his face in an attempt to soothe it away but Cobb flinches instead.
“Sorry, hey, Dominick. Tell me, without swearing at me, what you want.”
“I only traded sex for homework to keep you around,” says Cobb, “That’s the only way I can think of keeping you by my side. That’s what you like, right?” He crawls over Eames and bites on his bottom lip, “You like having sex with me, right? It’s the only reason why you would hang around me anyway.”
“That’s not true,” says Eames, putting a hand on Cobb’s chest, keeping him a distance away. “I thought you just wanted to be friends with benefits. You never made a move. Or said anything. You just kept bargaining with sex.”
“You never made a move too, you didn’t notice how much I worry about you or when I cling to you or try to make you jealous when I cling to Arthur. You just… think it’s all fun,” says Cobb, lips pressed together.
Eames blinks at Cobb, trying to comprehend everything that he’s just said. It can’t be right, because all those things… Eames knows Cobb the best, knows that Cobb worries and clings to him because he can, because that’s what he’s like. He’s always relied on Eames to take care of him and the whole Arthur thing… well, it’s been couple of years since he’s been doing it, it’s nothing strange.
“I… isn’t that just your way? I didn’t know. I. So you want me? Me me? Like everything? I won’t be doing your homework anymore now that I get to have sex for nothing.”
Cobb laughs and it sounds wet, like he’s about to cry. Eames pulls his hand back to let Cobb lean into him, foreheads against each other.
“I think you’ll still do my homework anyway,” he says, and Eames wraps his arms around Cobb, lets him slump against his body.
-
The next day, Cobb won’t leave him alone, won’t leave his side at all. He holds Eames’ hand wherever they go, kisses him in the hallways and in front of class. He hangs off Eames’ shoulders, even though he’s an inch taller, and sits on his lap when he can.
They’re at lunch and Cobb had pulled Eames to sit beside Arthur so that he can sit on his thighs. He curls his arms around Eames’ neck, fingers playing with his collar and bites on the underside of his jaw, licking up to kiss him.
“PDA,” says Arthur, disgusted and Eames smirks at him, smoothing his hand down to palm Cobb’s ass, waggling his eyebrows.
“Aw, I still love you, Arthur,” says Cobb, looking at Arthur with a pout, and leans over to plant a wet kiss on his mouth.
The whole table is shocked silent. Eames blinks at his boyfriend’s smug face. Adjacent to them, Robert makes a really terrible whimper.
Arthur wipes at his mouth with his sleeve, cursing, and stands up. “Urgh, Dom! I don’t- the places your mouth has been!” He slants a look at Eames and grimaces even more.
Cobb grins and turns to look at Eames.
Eames shakes his head, and can’t help but grin back.