Fic: Spirit Fingers (2/3)
Title: Spirit Fingers (2/3)
Pairing/Character(s): Arthur/Eames and ensemble
Rating: Still PG-13
Warnings: Language
Word Count: 1,558 in this part.
Summary: Bring It On AU.
Author's Notes: Yay, moar! One more part to this, I think.
Part One
In the end, it's almost anticlimactic. He'd had this mental picture of Eames stripping off his own shirt in the moonlight, maybe accompanied by some mood-appropriate music, while Arthur was changing, both of them overcome by the moment, with the situation devolving into the most amazing sex either of them has ever had. Well, the most amazing sex Eames has ever had; it will by default be the best sex Arthur's had, as he has never actually done it with anyone. Not that he thinks that sex with Eames would be anything short of amazing.
Wow, his brain really goes crazy on wine, doesn't it? At least he hasn't lost his brain-to-mouth filter yet.
It's not surprising, seeing music posters covering Eames' walls. He's in a band, and there are two guitars, one electric and one acoustic, in one corner. Most of the posters feature Metallica, although there are a few others, as well. It's a pretty cool room, in general, with the usual amount of clothes all over the floor for a dude their age, a couple of big windows, and a futon against one wall, across from a little TV. Arthur would be jealous, because his mom won't let him have a TV in his room, but he's a little too preoccupied by trying not to stare at the bed.
The bed, that is in this room, because it's Eames' room. He can't think about that, or he's pretty sure he really will pass out, and that would be the most embarrassing thing... uh, ever.
He's so caught up in not staring at the bed that Eames has to tap his shoulder to get his attention. Arthur jumps about a foot, and then turns, sheepish, taking the Lakers shirt. He strips off his own, somehow managing not to blush because it's really not a big deal, taking off his shirt in front of another guy, and pulls it over his head. It smells like fabric softener and Eames' cologne. He's also swimming in it, and Eames smirks at him.
"For a guy who hauls girls around all day, you think you'd have better muscle tone," he points out.
"Shut up," Arthur retorts intelligently. Eames flexes his guns, overly dramatic about it, and Arthur hits his shoulder. Eames mock-scowls and hits him back. Of course, Arthur has to hit him back for that.
Ten minutes later, they're still rolling around on the floor wrestling, and Ariadne opens the bedroom door, brows raised. "Whenever you guys are done having sex, we're watching a movie," she announces loudly, making them both freeze in place, Arthur having been just about to pin Eames.
Bright red, he jumps up, stammering something about how they weren't, what is she talking about, but she's gone before he can, and Eames hops up next to him, patting his shoulder with a grin and leaving the room rather quickly himself. Arthur can hear him yelling after Ariadne in the hallway, asking what movie, and he takes a minute to drag a hand over his face... and adjust his pants, before following Eames back downstairs.
*****
That marks the first night Arthur spends on the Eameses' couch, too drunk to drive home, but it isn't the last. (It is, however, the first time Arthur goes upstairs to use the shower in the morning and finds Eames awake and jumping around his room air-guitaring in his boxers. Arthur took a very long shower, after that.)
They spend so much time coming up with their new routines that it feels like he doesn't do anything but that and college applications, and cram for the SATs. He's good with coming up with technical things, figuring how everything will work out, this move leading to that move which can be followed by that, and so forth, but the creative part is not really his forte.
Ariadne is mainly responsible for that, since Mal's gone, and she's doing a really good job of it; even Carly and Wendy admit that they like the routines Arthur and Ariadne have come up with. However, they're a little short on funds for their trip to Florida, and no matter how awesome their routine is, it won't matter if they can't afford to get there, and to get a hotel the night before.
They try a bake sale, but none of them are particularly inspired bakers, and for the first part of the day, they sell about six of Carly's carrot-cake cupcakes, because they taste like cardboard even if everyone is either afraid or feels bad about telling her. At lunchtime, however, Ariadne brings in a tupperware container, plopping it down on their table in the cafeteria and opening it up. It's a big container, and inside, there are at least fifty brownies. "More where these came from, but they're cooling in Home Ec," she informs Arthur sotto voce. Her grin widens. "They're Yusuf's contribution to our efforts."
They make about three hundred dollars from Ariadne's brownies. Arthur calls that an enormous success. So does Ariadne, but for different reasons, those being that she finally drags Yusuf back out behind the gym and thanks him very thoroughly for his donation. They come to school the next day wearing shit-eating grins, and Arthur shakes his head, biting back a smirk even if Ariadne doesn't deserve his restraint for the stunt she'd pulled at the party. Eames, for the most part, talking to Arthur at his locker when Ariadne and Yusuf come in, looks like he's pretending that his sister does not have sex, choosing blissful ignorance. It seems like the safest choice, all things considered.
*****
Their second fundraising effort is a car wash at the Exxon station on Main Street, one Saturday in April. It's hot enough for bathing suits, and so two of the girls on the team stand on the corner in bikinis, holding up signs. They do a brisk business, enough of one to make Arthur less uncomfortable with that technique for attracting customers.
After all, Ariadne points out, they're over eighteen, and if they want to be stared at by creepers, it's their choice. He supposes that's true... the coach does come by and make them put on tee shirts around midafternoon, but by then they've raised a hell of a lot of money, much from parents who'd come by and tipped very generously but a lot from the creepers as well, and Arthur figures it's probably a good thing the tee shirts happened, in the end.
He doesn't put his on, but since he keeps getting sprayed by Ariadne with the hose, thus forcing him to take it from her and spray her down the back of her shirt in revenge, it's safer that way.
It's almost five and they're about to close when there's a loud roar, and a large truck pulls into the station, caked in an inch's worth of mud. Eames jumps out of the driver's side, smirking widely as Ariadne comes up next to Arthur, looking impressed. "Steven's going to kill you for getting his truck so messed up."
Eames' smirk widens. "Guess you'd better clean it, then. This is a car wash, right?" He wiggles his brows at Arthur, who eyes the car, and then him.
"We expect generous tips," he says dryly.
Eames grins, and pulls a wad of cash out of his pocket. "I came prepared." He steps over... and, to Arthur's shock, grabs the waist of Arthur's swim trunks, tucking a bill inside. "Just to start you off with, darling."
With that, he saunters off into the convenience store, whistling, and Arthur stands poleaxed, his cheeks bright red, while Ariadne snickers at him. "See, it's not just the girls who are attracting customers."
Arthur scowls at her, and she rolls her eyes at him. "He didn't come here for me, you idiot. Because that would be gross." She grabs the hose while he's distracted, sprays him on the butt, and darts to the other side of the car, giggling uproarously the entire time, as Arthur attempts to get her back and fails miserably.
*****
The truck is clean, and is in fact gleaming, by the time Eames comes back from the walk he'd taken to the music store down the street. He makes another trip into the convenience store before he walks over to them, and when he returns, he's carrying an Icee that Arthur eyes enviously. He's been drinking tap water all afternoon- all his money has gone towards the Florida trip, no exceptions. If he had extra cash, he wouldn't be here raising it, would he?
To his surprise, though, Eames doesn't drink from the Icee, but hands it over, looking almost shy. "Thanks. You didn't have to wax it, mate." His smirk manages to make the words like the dirtiest kind of porn, and Arthur has to work hard not to blush. He's been getting much better at that, not turning red every time Eames speaks to him.
"I... thank you," he says, taking the drink and then putting his mouth over the straw, taking a long gulp of the cherry-flavored crushed ice. Turning to the truck to make sure it really does look perfect (he wouldn't send Eames home with anything less), he misses the way Eames swallows hard, his eyes fixed on Arthur's mouth on the straw.
*****
Still TBC!
Pairing/Character(s): Arthur/Eames and ensemble
Rating: Still PG-13
Warnings: Language
Word Count: 1,558 in this part.
Summary: Bring It On AU.
Author's Notes: Yay, moar! One more part to this, I think.
Part One
In the end, it's almost anticlimactic. He'd had this mental picture of Eames stripping off his own shirt in the moonlight, maybe accompanied by some mood-appropriate music, while Arthur was changing, both of them overcome by the moment, with the situation devolving into the most amazing sex either of them has ever had. Well, the most amazing sex Eames has ever had; it will by default be the best sex Arthur's had, as he has never actually done it with anyone. Not that he thinks that sex with Eames would be anything short of amazing.
Wow, his brain really goes crazy on wine, doesn't it? At least he hasn't lost his brain-to-mouth filter yet.
It's not surprising, seeing music posters covering Eames' walls. He's in a band, and there are two guitars, one electric and one acoustic, in one corner. Most of the posters feature Metallica, although there are a few others, as well. It's a pretty cool room, in general, with the usual amount of clothes all over the floor for a dude their age, a couple of big windows, and a futon against one wall, across from a little TV. Arthur would be jealous, because his mom won't let him have a TV in his room, but he's a little too preoccupied by trying not to stare at the bed.
The bed, that is in this room, because it's Eames' room. He can't think about that, or he's pretty sure he really will pass out, and that would be the most embarrassing thing... uh, ever.
He's so caught up in not staring at the bed that Eames has to tap his shoulder to get his attention. Arthur jumps about a foot, and then turns, sheepish, taking the Lakers shirt. He strips off his own, somehow managing not to blush because it's really not a big deal, taking off his shirt in front of another guy, and pulls it over his head. It smells like fabric softener and Eames' cologne. He's also swimming in it, and Eames smirks at him.
"For a guy who hauls girls around all day, you think you'd have better muscle tone," he points out.
"Shut up," Arthur retorts intelligently. Eames flexes his guns, overly dramatic about it, and Arthur hits his shoulder. Eames mock-scowls and hits him back. Of course, Arthur has to hit him back for that.
Ten minutes later, they're still rolling around on the floor wrestling, and Ariadne opens the bedroom door, brows raised. "Whenever you guys are done having sex, we're watching a movie," she announces loudly, making them both freeze in place, Arthur having been just about to pin Eames.
Bright red, he jumps up, stammering something about how they weren't, what is she talking about, but she's gone before he can, and Eames hops up next to him, patting his shoulder with a grin and leaving the room rather quickly himself. Arthur can hear him yelling after Ariadne in the hallway, asking what movie, and he takes a minute to drag a hand over his face... and adjust his pants, before following Eames back downstairs.
*****
That marks the first night Arthur spends on the Eameses' couch, too drunk to drive home, but it isn't the last. (It is, however, the first time Arthur goes upstairs to use the shower in the morning and finds Eames awake and jumping around his room air-guitaring in his boxers. Arthur took a very long shower, after that.)
They spend so much time coming up with their new routines that it feels like he doesn't do anything but that and college applications, and cram for the SATs. He's good with coming up with technical things, figuring how everything will work out, this move leading to that move which can be followed by that, and so forth, but the creative part is not really his forte.
Ariadne is mainly responsible for that, since Mal's gone, and she's doing a really good job of it; even Carly and Wendy admit that they like the routines Arthur and Ariadne have come up with. However, they're a little short on funds for their trip to Florida, and no matter how awesome their routine is, it won't matter if they can't afford to get there, and to get a hotel the night before.
They try a bake sale, but none of them are particularly inspired bakers, and for the first part of the day, they sell about six of Carly's carrot-cake cupcakes, because they taste like cardboard even if everyone is either afraid or feels bad about telling her. At lunchtime, however, Ariadne brings in a tupperware container, plopping it down on their table in the cafeteria and opening it up. It's a big container, and inside, there are at least fifty brownies. "More where these came from, but they're cooling in Home Ec," she informs Arthur sotto voce. Her grin widens. "They're Yusuf's contribution to our efforts."
They make about three hundred dollars from Ariadne's brownies. Arthur calls that an enormous success. So does Ariadne, but for different reasons, those being that she finally drags Yusuf back out behind the gym and thanks him very thoroughly for his donation. They come to school the next day wearing shit-eating grins, and Arthur shakes his head, biting back a smirk even if Ariadne doesn't deserve his restraint for the stunt she'd pulled at the party. Eames, for the most part, talking to Arthur at his locker when Ariadne and Yusuf come in, looks like he's pretending that his sister does not have sex, choosing blissful ignorance. It seems like the safest choice, all things considered.
*****
Their second fundraising effort is a car wash at the Exxon station on Main Street, one Saturday in April. It's hot enough for bathing suits, and so two of the girls on the team stand on the corner in bikinis, holding up signs. They do a brisk business, enough of one to make Arthur less uncomfortable with that technique for attracting customers.
After all, Ariadne points out, they're over eighteen, and if they want to be stared at by creepers, it's their choice. He supposes that's true... the coach does come by and make them put on tee shirts around midafternoon, but by then they've raised a hell of a lot of money, much from parents who'd come by and tipped very generously but a lot from the creepers as well, and Arthur figures it's probably a good thing the tee shirts happened, in the end.
He doesn't put his on, but since he keeps getting sprayed by Ariadne with the hose, thus forcing him to take it from her and spray her down the back of her shirt in revenge, it's safer that way.
It's almost five and they're about to close when there's a loud roar, and a large truck pulls into the station, caked in an inch's worth of mud. Eames jumps out of the driver's side, smirking widely as Ariadne comes up next to Arthur, looking impressed. "Steven's going to kill you for getting his truck so messed up."
Eames' smirk widens. "Guess you'd better clean it, then. This is a car wash, right?" He wiggles his brows at Arthur, who eyes the car, and then him.
"We expect generous tips," he says dryly.
Eames grins, and pulls a wad of cash out of his pocket. "I came prepared." He steps over... and, to Arthur's shock, grabs the waist of Arthur's swim trunks, tucking a bill inside. "Just to start you off with, darling."
With that, he saunters off into the convenience store, whistling, and Arthur stands poleaxed, his cheeks bright red, while Ariadne snickers at him. "See, it's not just the girls who are attracting customers."
Arthur scowls at her, and she rolls her eyes at him. "He didn't come here for me, you idiot. Because that would be gross." She grabs the hose while he's distracted, sprays him on the butt, and darts to the other side of the car, giggling uproarously the entire time, as Arthur attempts to get her back and fails miserably.
*****
The truck is clean, and is in fact gleaming, by the time Eames comes back from the walk he'd taken to the music store down the street. He makes another trip into the convenience store before he walks over to them, and when he returns, he's carrying an Icee that Arthur eyes enviously. He's been drinking tap water all afternoon- all his money has gone towards the Florida trip, no exceptions. If he had extra cash, he wouldn't be here raising it, would he?
To his surprise, though, Eames doesn't drink from the Icee, but hands it over, looking almost shy. "Thanks. You didn't have to wax it, mate." His smirk manages to make the words like the dirtiest kind of porn, and Arthur has to work hard not to blush. He's been getting much better at that, not turning red every time Eames speaks to him.
"I... thank you," he says, taking the drink and then putting his mouth over the straw, taking a long gulp of the cherry-flavored crushed ice. Turning to the truck to make sure it really does look perfect (he wouldn't send Eames home with anything less), he misses the way Eames swallows hard, his eyes fixed on Arthur's mouth on the straw.
*****
Still TBC!