165
we're always kickin' back
inception (arthur/eames, some cobb/ariadne)
1,052 words of breakfast club au. didn't feel like writing the whole thing, so this is just a middle bit. WHATEVER, WHATEVER, Y'ALL.
“Wait, so, you’ve really never smoked a spliff before?’ Eames is squinting down at Robert, who is giggling quietly on the floor. He manages to shake his head, covering his mouth with one hand.
“Does it look like he has?” Arthur’s voice isn’t exactly derisive, but there’s an edge to it that reminds Eames why he immediately liked Arthur. He’s got bite, for a brain. The pretty face didn’t hurt, either.
“I suppose I wasn’t expecting him to be mummy’s little boy all the time, is all.” Though Robert, thus far, hasn’t given him any indication otherwise. He takes a drag from the joint, holds it in, and passes it over to Arthur, who leans back as he inhales. He’s kind of a pro. Another surprise.
“This is fantastic,” Robert says, and lets his head thud back against the carpet. The library is going to smell like pot tomorrow, but it’s Saturday, so there’ll be time for it air out, or something. Eames hadn’t actually thought this plan through very well. It seems to be working out so far, however.
Ariadne opens the door to the reference room, and the smoke billows out. Eames can hear Cobb giggling quietly from inside.
Yeah, this was a pretty good plan.
“You’re an imbecile,” Arthur says, but he’s smiling. Eames laughs.
“If you say so,” he says, and raises his eyebrows. Robert is still sitting on the floor, but he’s calmed a little, and he’s got his knees pulled up to his chest.
“Don’t you ever get tired of it?” he asks. His eyes are huge, and blue, and he seems to actually want to know the answer. Eames shrugs.
“Sure, but what’re you going to do?” It’s not that he thinks he has all the answers, it’s that he can’t imagine trying to fit in here. There’s just no way.
“Not act like a dipshit? You’re obviously not actually stupid.” Arthur rolls his eyes, and Eames tries not to be pleased at the backhanded compliment.
Ariadne and Cobb are talking quietly by the encyclopedias, and Eames is watching the way Ariadne’s standing, the way Cobb is leaning. He smiles.
“Tell that to the principal,” he says, and looks back over at Arthur, who is frowning now. Arthur’s hair is mussed. Eames digs his hands into the pockets of his jacket.
Eames has been to Saturday detention almost more times than he hasn’t been. It’s not that he’s stupid, or even that he doesn’t want to do the work, it’s that he finds the teachers so infuriatingly closed-minded that he can’t help but back talk. Like the time he organized a sit-in to provide some clarity on the methods of the civil rights movement, since Mr. Plumber sure wasn’t teaching it. Or the time Mrs. Daniels made her opinions on gay rights clear enough that Eames had to lean over and kiss Yusuf on the mouth.
So, really, it’s not all his fault.
“I heard about that,” Robert says. “Did you really use tongue?”
“Well, Yusuf didn’t really seem to mind,” Eames says, and smiles. It’s not really an answer, but Robert will draw his own conclusions. He would have anyway.
Arthur snorts, shaking his head. “Such a rebel,” he says sarcastically.
“Well, someone did spray paint fag on my gym locker after that,” he says. “But I added a smiley face. It seemed lacking.”
They still have two hours, and the pot is starting to wear off. Eames can tell he’s not the only one - Arthur’s posture is tightening up again, and Robert has stopped giggling even intermittently. It’s hard to know with Cobb and Ariadne - she’s got him pressed against the world maps section and they’re making out rather enthusiastically.
“At least someone is having a good time,” Eames says. She’s holding him by the back of the neck, but he doesn’t seem to mind, really. “Don’t suppose either of you would fancy a pull?”
Robert makes the repulsed face of someone who has probably be thinking about it, but isn’t ready to admit it. Arthur, on the other hand, looks like he’s considering.
“Are you really that easy?” he asks. Eames isn’t, actually, but has to admit that he finds Arthur attractive. He’s not blind.
“Do you think I am?” he asks, grinning.
Arthur takes a moment to consider it, cocking his head to the side. “No, not really.”
Eames smiles. Yeah, he does like this one.
Arthur’s the nerd who won the debate team final this year, and he’s the returning champion from last year. Eames knows because the other nerds congratulated him for two days straight, and Eames has ears. Arthur was perfectly pleased, but still shrugged off the attention.
Eames is pretty sure that he’d be handy in fight, but it’s just a hunch. The jocks beat up the mathletes, not the debate team.
“I actually really like math,” Arthur says, and smiles. “I’m just not as good at it.”
“Better at arguing?” The three of them are sitting on the floor, now, and Robert is looking through his wallet like there’s something in there to entertain himself with. He could just find a book. They are surrounded by them.
“Yeah,” Arthur says, and then tugs on Eames’ wrist. “C’mon, then.”
“Where are we going?” Eames asks, and lets Arthur pull him to his feet. Arthur shrugs.
“Wherever,” he says.
So, really, Eames isn’t exactly surprised when Arthur tugs him between the Ar and Az history stacks and pushes him back against the books on Austrian history in the late 1800s. Arthur doesn’t even kiss him, then, just presses both hands against his chest, and holds him there. His eyes are wide, but he’s smiling.
“I thought we just agreed that I’m not easy,” Eames says, though he’s feeling it a little at the moment.
“Want to go to a movie Friday night?” Arthur asks, raising his eyebrows in challenge. The suddenness of it makes Eames pause, and then laugh.
“Sure,” he says, biting his lip to keep from laughing again. Arthur, it appears, has very little tact.
“Okay, then,” Arthur says, and leans up to kiss Eames on the mouth. He’s not entirely practiced, but he’s forceful enough that Eames doesn’t really mind.
They have forty-five minutes left. Eames winds his fingers into Arthur’s hair, and kisses back.
inception (arthur/eames, some cobb/ariadne)
1,052 words of breakfast club au. didn't feel like writing the whole thing, so this is just a middle bit. WHATEVER, WHATEVER, Y'ALL.
“Wait, so, you’ve really never smoked a spliff before?’ Eames is squinting down at Robert, who is giggling quietly on the floor. He manages to shake his head, covering his mouth with one hand.
“Does it look like he has?” Arthur’s voice isn’t exactly derisive, but there’s an edge to it that reminds Eames why he immediately liked Arthur. He’s got bite, for a brain. The pretty face didn’t hurt, either.
“I suppose I wasn’t expecting him to be mummy’s little boy all the time, is all.” Though Robert, thus far, hasn’t given him any indication otherwise. He takes a drag from the joint, holds it in, and passes it over to Arthur, who leans back as he inhales. He’s kind of a pro. Another surprise.
“This is fantastic,” Robert says, and lets his head thud back against the carpet. The library is going to smell like pot tomorrow, but it’s Saturday, so there’ll be time for it air out, or something. Eames hadn’t actually thought this plan through very well. It seems to be working out so far, however.
Ariadne opens the door to the reference room, and the smoke billows out. Eames can hear Cobb giggling quietly from inside.
Yeah, this was a pretty good plan.
“You’re an imbecile,” Arthur says, but he’s smiling. Eames laughs.
“If you say so,” he says, and raises his eyebrows. Robert is still sitting on the floor, but he’s calmed a little, and he’s got his knees pulled up to his chest.
“Don’t you ever get tired of it?” he asks. His eyes are huge, and blue, and he seems to actually want to know the answer. Eames shrugs.
“Sure, but what’re you going to do?” It’s not that he thinks he has all the answers, it’s that he can’t imagine trying to fit in here. There’s just no way.
“Not act like a dipshit? You’re obviously not actually stupid.” Arthur rolls his eyes, and Eames tries not to be pleased at the backhanded compliment.
Ariadne and Cobb are talking quietly by the encyclopedias, and Eames is watching the way Ariadne’s standing, the way Cobb is leaning. He smiles.
“Tell that to the principal,” he says, and looks back over at Arthur, who is frowning now. Arthur’s hair is mussed. Eames digs his hands into the pockets of his jacket.
Eames has been to Saturday detention almost more times than he hasn’t been. It’s not that he’s stupid, or even that he doesn’t want to do the work, it’s that he finds the teachers so infuriatingly closed-minded that he can’t help but back talk. Like the time he organized a sit-in to provide some clarity on the methods of the civil rights movement, since Mr. Plumber sure wasn’t teaching it. Or the time Mrs. Daniels made her opinions on gay rights clear enough that Eames had to lean over and kiss Yusuf on the mouth.
So, really, it’s not all his fault.
“I heard about that,” Robert says. “Did you really use tongue?”
“Well, Yusuf didn’t really seem to mind,” Eames says, and smiles. It’s not really an answer, but Robert will draw his own conclusions. He would have anyway.
Arthur snorts, shaking his head. “Such a rebel,” he says sarcastically.
“Well, someone did spray paint fag on my gym locker after that,” he says. “But I added a smiley face. It seemed lacking.”
They still have two hours, and the pot is starting to wear off. Eames can tell he’s not the only one - Arthur’s posture is tightening up again, and Robert has stopped giggling even intermittently. It’s hard to know with Cobb and Ariadne - she’s got him pressed against the world maps section and they’re making out rather enthusiastically.
“At least someone is having a good time,” Eames says. She’s holding him by the back of the neck, but he doesn’t seem to mind, really. “Don’t suppose either of you would fancy a pull?”
Robert makes the repulsed face of someone who has probably be thinking about it, but isn’t ready to admit it. Arthur, on the other hand, looks like he’s considering.
“Are you really that easy?” he asks. Eames isn’t, actually, but has to admit that he finds Arthur attractive. He’s not blind.
“Do you think I am?” he asks, grinning.
Arthur takes a moment to consider it, cocking his head to the side. “No, not really.”
Eames smiles. Yeah, he does like this one.
Arthur’s the nerd who won the debate team final this year, and he’s the returning champion from last year. Eames knows because the other nerds congratulated him for two days straight, and Eames has ears. Arthur was perfectly pleased, but still shrugged off the attention.
Eames is pretty sure that he’d be handy in fight, but it’s just a hunch. The jocks beat up the mathletes, not the debate team.
“I actually really like math,” Arthur says, and smiles. “I’m just not as good at it.”
“Better at arguing?” The three of them are sitting on the floor, now, and Robert is looking through his wallet like there’s something in there to entertain himself with. He could just find a book. They are surrounded by them.
“Yeah,” Arthur says, and then tugs on Eames’ wrist. “C’mon, then.”
“Where are we going?” Eames asks, and lets Arthur pull him to his feet. Arthur shrugs.
“Wherever,” he says.
So, really, Eames isn’t exactly surprised when Arthur tugs him between the Ar and Az history stacks and pushes him back against the books on Austrian history in the late 1800s. Arthur doesn’t even kiss him, then, just presses both hands against his chest, and holds him there. His eyes are wide, but he’s smiling.
“I thought we just agreed that I’m not easy,” Eames says, though he’s feeling it a little at the moment.
“Want to go to a movie Friday night?” Arthur asks, raising his eyebrows in challenge. The suddenness of it makes Eames pause, and then laugh.
“Sure,” he says, biting his lip to keep from laughing again. Arthur, it appears, has very little tact.
“Okay, then,” Arthur says, and leans up to kiss Eames on the mouth. He’s not entirely practiced, but he’s forceful enough that Eames doesn’t really mind.
They have forty-five minutes left. Eames winds his fingers into Arthur’s hair, and kisses back.