fic: sounds of silence
Title: sounds of silence
Author: erethesunrises
Fandom: Inception
Characters: Arthur/Eames, Ariadne
Rating: PG-13 for language
Word Count: ~4,300
Summary: For the inception_kink prompt here: Arthur is the cute boy that's always at the cafe Eames goes to. Eames tries to make conversation with him a few times, but Arthur just ignores him. Or so Eames thinks. Turns out, Arthur is deaf. Cue Eames learning random signs (this totally gets Arthur to smile, which he rarely does). I'd love it if Adriane is a waitress there and clues Eames in. Also, she threatens to chop his balls off and feed them to him if he hurts Arthur.
Disclaimer: Don't own it.
Notes: No beta this time, unfortunately, so all mistakes are mine. This is a particularly sensitive fic for me because my mother's deaf so it was nice to write this. ♥
Eames realizes a couple months into living in New York City that the best places were the little ones, tucked away that had to be searched for in order to be found. It doesn’t matter what you wanted to do, find a book, grab a cup of coffee, smoke hookah, but it was the little places that gave you quality.
The café was something he never would have taken a second glance at unless he was absolutely desperate for a cup of tea. Which, on this brisk autumn day, he was.
It’s the definition of what he would categorize as bohemian with a heavy herbal scent and people with worn out novels and dog-eared pages, looking very much like regulars, making Eames very much stand out. Still, even in London, these places were always the best.
Unraveling the scarf from around his neck, he approached the counter and ordered Earl Grey. It didn’t matter how long he stayed in the States, coffee was never going to be substituted for tea. He’s served by a petite brunette who he immediately likes and as he reads her name tag to thank her, he smiles when he says Ariadne.
Turning, and knowing he doesn’t have class until later in the evening, he decides to become familiar with the place. The apartment he shares with fellow grad students wasn’t far off and he had a feeling he’d be coming here more often.
There were empty tables, empty booths, but where ever is the fun in that? Instead he opts for a table occupied by a young man with pointed features that already has Eames raising a brow in interest. He was reading a book on art in Renaissance Florence and the Medici family. Not quite Eames’ tastes but that sweater vest was calling to him.
“Art, huh?” The boy’s eyes slide up only for a moment before he returns to reading. “Never been -” But he’s cut off by Ariadne calling his name. “Hold that thought.”
“He’s not going to respond to you,” Ariadne says simply as she hands him his tea.
“Excuse me?” He says, slightly offended and also a little confused by what she said, as he starts to pour milk into his tea.
“Arthur. The attractive boy reading an art history book you just sat down with?” She arches her eyebrows in a gesture towards him. “You’re not going to get anything out of him.”
“Oh, so, his name’s Arthur is it?” He raises his eyebrows right back and smiles gleefully. “I think you’ve underestimated my renowned flirting abilities, Ariadne.”
She sighs, as if she’s said what she’s about to say a hundred times before. “He’s deaf. That’s why he won’t respond.” Her voice is weighted and she rests her gaze on Arthur sympathetically. When she looks back at Eames, he seems to be transfixed on Arthur, and she worries her lip between her teeth. Abruptly, he thanks her for the tea and walks out. She has a feeling she won’t be seeing him around here again.
-
It’s several weeks before Eames returns to the café. When he approaches the counter, Ariadne is a little dumbfounded. Arthur sits behind them reading, no sign that he noticed Eames enter at all. Eames doesn’t make small talk but smiles politely at Ariadne, waits for his tea, and then makes a beeline for the table Arthur’s sitting at.
Arthur looks up again, his gaze resting a little longer, with a little more curiosity, before he goes back to reading. Art and twentieth century dictators. Lovely, Eames thinks to himself sardonically. He takes a sip of his tea and as soon as he sets it down, he awkwardly begins to sign, ending with introducing himself and spelling out his name (because he has a really fucking weird name, okay). His heart seems to leap in his throat when Arthur looks up, lips parted, and the faint traces of a blush rise to his cheeks. When Eames finishes, looking rather proud of himself, Arthur sets down the book, signs quickly and unexpectedly leaves. The only condolence Eames has is that he swears he could spot a smile on his face as he left.
“He said he’s never taken a particular interest in art focusing on alligators but his curiosity is piqued.”
Eames looks up when Ariadne unceremoniously drops her apron on the table as she sits down for her break. He has nothing to say in reply.
“I am impressed though. I thought as soon as you heard he was deaf, you wouldn’t come back. Now that I know there’s more to you than tacky paisley shirts and a drop-dead gorgeous accent, I have to tell you right now: if you hurt him in any way, I’ll personally see to it that your balls get cut off.”
The only thing running through Eames’ mind (after the initial shock of not wanting his balls cut off) is trying to figure out when he learned how to sign ‘alligator’.
-
The sign language class that Eames signs up for is just about the least pretentious class he’s ever taken in his life. The instructor is far too enthusiastic and the students have a genuine interest in learning the communication skill except for one douche in the back who makes it his mission to turn every sign into the most obscene gesture his pea for a brain can muster and it takes all of Eames’ self-control not to punch him every time he does so.
The teacher is currently teaching them poetry. Eames is hoping for something a little more eloquent than one fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish that he can woo Arthur with.
-
Eames begins to fall into a pattern. He goes to class, he wanders around the city, he avoids his apartment as much as possible because he really doesn’t need to come home to drugs every night, and he stops by the café every day.
He and Ariadne had become good friends. He learns she’s at NYU for architecture and Arthur is there for art history, both undergraduates. He suddenly feels particularly old. They’re roommates in their own apartment and had met their first year of school and had been friends ever since. She doesn’t need to say anything for him to know she’s protective of him. As she should be, he thinks.
It’s different with him and Arthur. They sit together every day and Arthur actually puts his book down for moments at a time to sign to Eames. Ariadne writes down what Arthur says whenever she can to show Eames since he still has absolutely no idea what’s being said half the time. He feels particularly clever when he can reply as if he knows exactly what’s being said, though, with Arthur having no idea that he’d been getting translation (completely unaware that Ariadne tells him once they get back to their apartment).
He tries to ask Arthur out on a date after the ‘alligator’ day. It doesn’t go over well. Arthur grows flustered and panicked, quickly excusing himself and leaving without any warning. Feeling dejected, Eames looks over at Ariadne who gives him a sympathetic but hopeful look, urging him not to give up.
Since then he tries not to be too forward and instead stumbles his way through conversations, attempting to be witty, often resulting in Arthur not being at all amused. When Arthur would sign, he would make noises in the back of his throat that all at once breaks and warms Eames’ heart.
This continues and Eames grows so comfortable with it that on days when Arthur doesn’t come to the café, Eames feels a gaping void that takes him completely by surprise.
-
Fall had officially arrived. And it was gorgeous. Not only for the clean, crisp air and leaves changing color but for the fact that Arthur was growing more comfortable around him, even to the point of letting Eames hold hands with him. It made Eames happier than he’d care to admit.
Arthur had been completely unexpected in Eames’ life. He was a challenge and difficult but Eames knew without a doubt that he was worth it. He had to be or else holding hands with him wouldn’t be nearly as exciting as it happened to be.
Catching Arthur’s attention, Eames speaks slowly so the younger man can read his lips. “How was class?”
Arthur breaks their hands and begins to sign before realizing he’s going too fast. It’s always more difficult when Ariadne isn’t with them to help facilitate between the two of them but they find a way to make it work. It can become increasingly frustrating but when they hold conversations together, it’s an accomplishment that feels like nothing else. He slows his signs down, telling Eames about the girl in his philosophy class who can’t seem to understand the idea that he’s not interested.
It amuses Eames but more than anything he feels a thrill at the fact that he’s the one Arthur’s interested in.
I can’t entirely blame her, he signs as best he can, occasionally having to spell out words rather than sign them whole.
You’re incorrigible, Arthur responds and when Eames’ face grows increasingly perplexed, entirely ignorant of what Arthur said, the younger man simply smiles and grabs Eames’ hand again and walks on.
Unfortunately their peace is soon interrupted.
“Fucking fags, get a room!”
Eames immediately turns and spots two men about Arthur’s age approaching them in entirely too starched shirts, hair practically drowning in gel, and the most unattractive smirks Eames has ever seen in his life. He really doesn’t need this right now. He could just walk away. He really could. But where’s the fun in that?
“Want to try that again? I’m afraid I didn’t catch it.” The smile on his face is some of the best forgery he’s ever done.
“You need to get a room, fags.”
“Ah, right. See, I thought that’s what you said but it just doesn’t make sense because that’s quite the rude thing to say and you seem like a perfectly upstanding gentleman to me.”
“Only when my mommy’s around.”
“Well, in that case.” He shrugs off his jacket and hands it to Arthur, beginning to roll up his sleeves until Arthur grabs his arm and fiercely shakes his head, signing to Eames to just walk away, telling him the apartment isn’t far.
“Oh, look, his boyfriend’s all handicapped and whatever. Isn’t that so sweet? What a tragic love story, I think I’m about to shed a tear.”
That is when Eames has had enough and shoves the jacket into Arthur’s arms, despite the grunts of protest and the warbled shout of his name. He immediately goes at the kid with a fist full of confidence that connects and draws blood. Completely sure of himself given his much larger stature against the kid, he doesn’t count on Mr. Pretentious’ friend joining in which explains his surprise when he’s suddenly attacked from behind, the friend struggling at holding Eames’ arms back but at least distracting him, giving the main kid a chance to pay Eames back for that punch. And again. And again.
That’s when it’s Arthur turn to decide that he’s had enough and with jacket still in hand, he taps on the shoulder of the kid holding Eames’ arm and when he turns, he immediately throws a punch. It doesn’t take Arthur long to get both of them to run.
“I could have used that help a little earlier, darling.” Eames mutters as he places two fingers to his upper lip and feels blood.
-
“I’ve always imagined a pretty boy taking care of me when I’m sick. Or rather, when I’m injured.”
Arthur raises an eyebrow, completely unamused as he cleans the cut on Eames’ lip, dabbing a little harder than necessary at that quip, making Eames wince and berate him for not being gentle.
You’ll never learn to sign if you keep talking to me, Arthur signs matter-of-factly before beginning to put away the medical kit.
Eames sighs and as Arthur walks past him, he grabs his wrist lightly and stands up, taking the medical kit from him and setting it on the table. Are you okay?
Says the invalid.
Eames gives him a pointed look, his turn to not be amused. I’m serious. It can’t have been easy to see what that guy said.
I’ve learned to live with it. You just walk away. I’m used to it.
“Well, I’m not love,” Eames steps closer to Arthur and notices the way he stiffens, notices the heat rise to his cheeks as he places a hand gently on the side of his neck. “And so you’re going to have to learn how to get used to me protecting you.”
The kiss was about as perfect as first kisses get and Eames wraps his other arm around Arthur’s waist, pulling him close, holding him gently. Arthur melts in his embrace, his lips immediately yielding, molding to Eames’ and his hands come up to clutch at his shoulders, ignoring the salt from his tears in their kiss.
-
“You really should just move in with us already.”
“Pardon, love?” Eames asks, lifting his head, holding Ariadne’s hand delicately in his as he pauses in painting her nails.
“Well you practically live here already, why not move in? We know you’re not a fan of where or who you live with now.” She raises her eyebrows at him, her other hand that hasn’t been painted yet resting on Arthur’s head which is in her lap. He doesn’t seem even remotely aware of the conversation, instead focused on watching Breakfast at Tiffany’s.
“What, are you serious?” He is entirely uninterested in continuing to paint her nails at this moment but rather extremely excited at the prospect. It was true he didn’t like where he was living now, especially given the people, and he spends nearly all his free time at Ariadne and Arthur’s apartment and he hangs out with them outside of the apartment as well so the idea of actually living here was definitely appealing.
“Of course we’re being serious! Aren’t we, Arthur?” She nudges the boy on her lap and he looks up at her, obviously confused and bothered at being interrupted from the film. She takes her hand from Eames and signs to Arthur. The boy blushes, catches Eames’ eye, and nods mutely.
Eames doesn’t need any more confirmation than that. “My only problem is why you didn’t ask me sooner. Obviously I’ll move in. You two will finally realize what you’ve been missing.” He makes a face when she teasingly asks: on second thought, can I take back that invitation? and leans in to kiss her cheek before leaning over Arthur and whispering, breath hot on Arthur’s skin, more to himself: “This is going to be fun.” Then he kisses him on the lips, tender and chaste, until interrupted by an exasperated sigh.
“These nails aren’t going to paint themselves, Eames!”
-
I think we should move in together, He’s half on top of Arthur, chin resting on top of Arthur’s chest. It’s an awkward position to sign in but he finds he’s too comfortable to even contemplate moving.
Arthur furrows his brow. We are moved in together.
Eames can’t help but grin. I mean together, together. As in just the two of us.
What about Ariadne?
We can find her a new roommate. Eames can tell from Arthur’s face alone that he’s unsure of the idea. He’s not surprised. One night when Arthur was at class, Ariadne reminded Eames of her threat but this time for different reasons.
(“Arthur’s always been guarded, Eames, for obvious reasons. I’ve never seen him like this with anyone else before.” She let the heaviness of the conversation hang in the air for a moment before dropping the bomb. “I think he loves you.”)
Eames knows Arthur’s afraid and isn’t surprised or upset by it. He’s afraid too. He’d be more concerned if Arthur was jumping for joy at the prospect (though once they talked he hoped they could reach that stage too). He has suspicions that this is the first time Arthur’s been in a relationship like this. There hadn’t been any cliché courting but an act of falling in sync with one another so naturally that they were drawn together like moths to the flame. Their relationship had simply…happened.
Now Eames couldn’t get enough of it. He’s never felt such an overwhelming sensation on his heart and soul as he did when he realized he was falling in love with Arthur. He loves him unashamedly and knows that he’s never going to find anything to ever compare to this (and he hopes he’ll never have to). Arthur had become his saving grace and he knows he’ll never experience the same thrill of running his lips over his hips, pressing down, and giving himself completely. He’ll never find the same thrill in simply doing a crossword together, limbs entangled as he thinks of the most ridiculous answers and Arthur signs the correct answer with a knowing look in his eye, knowing that Eames loves to see his hands move in such intricate ways.
It doesn’t have to happen now. But it isn’t it…a little crowded?
Arthur’s eyes slide away for a moment. Eames presses a soft kiss to his chest. He reaches a hand up and gently pushes Arthur’s chin so he’s looking back at him. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to.” He’s met with silence for several moments and he feels defeated, kissing his chest once more before giving up and laying his head down.
It’s now Arthur’s turn to tug Eames back to his attention. I want to. And he doesn’t have to sign anymore. It’s enough for Eames. Enough for that ridiculously contagious smile to appear as he pushes himself up further in order to kiss Arthur properly, maneuvering his body to completely cover Arthur’s, enjoying the feeling a little too much when Arthur runs his hands down Eames’ back.
-
“Arthur and I are moving out.” Eames says out of the blue as the three of them are sitting around the table playing Scrabble. “Also, what kind of word is aedicule?”
“It’s an architectural - wait, excuse me?”
Before he has the chance to speak, Arthur cuts him off with a glare. This was not how they had discussed breaking the news but Eames has never been one for conventional or appropriate. He signs particularly fast to Ariadne specifically so Eames won’t know what he’s saying. The next thing Eames knows, Scrabble letters are being thrown at him and he’s sputtering and diving from his chair. “Oi! What’s the big idea?”
“Because breaking this news to me over a game of Scrabble is such a great idea, isn’t it, Eames?” Sarcasm is dripping from her every word and Arthur’s standing behind her with a look that clearly says Eames brought this all on himself. “And how am I supposed to pay for this apartment all on my own?”
“Calm down, love, you can’t possibly think I just forgot about you. There’s a girl named Mal, she’s from France and a grad student. She’s looking for a place to live and I’m sure you’d love her. I mean obviously no one will be amazing as Arthur and I, mostly me, and that’s why you’ll come over all the time! And we’ll come here. It’ll be like nothing has changed.”
“Except for the fact that you won’t be living here anymore.”
Eames sighs and he doesn’t have anything to say to that. He feels like this was a long time coming but of course it was never going to be easy. Perhaps he should have stuck with the original plans. And then Arthur proves just why Eames loves him so.
He taps her shoulder and gives her a sad but affirmative look. I love you. But I need this. I need you to understand that.
And of course Ariadne is immediately putty in his hands. She nods and immediately throws herself in Arthur’s arms, tears stinging at her eyes as she clutches to him as if her life depends on it. She understands, Eames knows, understands it’s not the end, just a change. And Eames finds himself considerably moved by Arthur saying he needs this, realizing Arthur needs it just as much as he does.
-
Living together isn’t easy. It brings them closer together, to be certain, and they learn much about one another. Arthur develops a particular fondness for Eames making him breakfast in bed and Eames can’t help but wonder what life was like before this.
Still, it isn’t easy. Eames isn’t home every night. Arthur goes out, likes to wander the Met, but he mostly keeps to himself other than Ariadne and Eames (and to an extension Mal who the three have immediately come to like as well as Cobb, the TA she keeps bringing home). Eames gets suffocated and needs to break out of the norm, as much as he feels so comfortable with the situation he’s discovered for himself. So he goes out, spends his time with other people. The comfort Arthur has is the knowledge that Eames always comes home, even if it’s at three o’clock in the morning, he always slips in to bed and places a kiss to his head.
There’s frustration, there are fights. He’s still learning and he knows he’ll never stop but sometimes it isn’t enough.
He’s working on a paper one day, sitting at the table and typing furiously away, concentration completely thrown into the paper when Arthur comes up and taps him on the shoulder. “Hold on, love.” Moments later the tapping comes again. “Let me just finish this thought.” It completely slips his mind that he’s facing away.
Arthur grunts and taps a littler harder. It’s the breaking point for Eames, breaking his concentration and he spins around and says what in an exasperated tone. Arthur may not be able to hear but the expression on Eames’ face says it all. He takes a step back and his lips part. “God, fuck, Arthur, I’m sorry but I just can’t be here at your every beck and call all the time.” He’s completely given up on signing at this point but it doesn’t matter. Arthur reads his lips and he fills in the blanks on the words he misses. He’s entirely speechless.
“I need a little time, some patience, all right? I can’t sign all the time and you can’t rely on me so much. God, you need to get out there.” He indicates to the window with his arm and he knows he’s taking it too far but he doesn’t stop. “I’m not going to be your only lifeline and watch you around here all the time, constantly pestering me. I won’t.”
Several moments of thick silence pass before: If that’s how you feel, then leave. I’m shocked you stayed this long at all. Arthur bitterly turns away, missing Eames’ shocked expression and he begins to retreat into the bedroom and as he does he hears the front door slam.
It’s some ungodly hour of the morning when Eames returns. There’s alcohol on his breath but he’s not drunk. In fact he’s far more sobered than when he was earlier, when he made a complete arse of himself and was a fucking idiot to Arthur. He slumps inside, an enormous pressure weighing down on him. When he walks into the bedroom and sees Arthur asleep, his breath is taken from him and the earlier events race through his mind. He’s not going to be able to sleep before he makes amends.
As he undresses, he can’t take his eyes of Arthur and when he slips into bed, he instantly draws himself to Arthur, arms enveloping the body, aching for that skin to skin contact and Arthur should be startled awake but he’s so used to this that he wakes with no indication of doing so. Rather than receiving Eames warmly like usual, he’s stiff and it hurts, oh Eames has never felt a pain so strong. He kisses the shell of Arthur’s ear and leans his head on the back of his neck.
Finally, as Arthur slowly turns, Eames immediately looks up. He doesn’t hesitate. I’m sorry. I had no right to say any of that to you. I love you. Please just know I love you.
Arthur presses his lips together and unlike Eames, he hesitates. I know. And I know it isn’t easy. You didn’t ask to sign up for this. I’ve just…I’ve never felt like this with anyone, like my entire being and soul existing depends on us. I’ve never been so scared that losing someone will literally take my soul away.
Eames’ heart soars and he does nothing but lean forward and kiss Arthur soundly on the lips, drawing him in so there’s no space left between them. “How…” but the words die on his lips when he pulls away.
My dad was in the military. We moved around a lot. We were driving and a bomb went off. I didn’t know what happened but when I woke up, I could only hear muffled sounds. In a few hours I couldn’t hear a single thing. The doctor said my eardrums were punctured and that I’d never hear again.
He signs with no indication of emotional trauma on his face, no sign of much of anything. Eames stills and just looks at him, stares at him so long until Arthur is forced to look away, almost as if in shame. Eames leans forward and presses a kiss to his forehead, making him look up again.
“I will never leave you. Quite frankly, you’re stuck with me.”
Author: erethesunrises
Fandom: Inception
Characters: Arthur/Eames, Ariadne
Rating: PG-13 for language
Word Count: ~4,300
Summary: For the inception_kink prompt here: Arthur is the cute boy that's always at the cafe Eames goes to. Eames tries to make conversation with him a few times, but Arthur just ignores him. Or so Eames thinks. Turns out, Arthur is deaf. Cue Eames learning random signs (this totally gets Arthur to smile, which he rarely does). I'd love it if Adriane is a waitress there and clues Eames in. Also, she threatens to chop his balls off and feed them to him if he hurts Arthur.
Disclaimer: Don't own it.
Notes: No beta this time, unfortunately, so all mistakes are mine. This is a particularly sensitive fic for me because my mother's deaf so it was nice to write this. ♥
Eames realizes a couple months into living in New York City that the best places were the little ones, tucked away that had to be searched for in order to be found. It doesn’t matter what you wanted to do, find a book, grab a cup of coffee, smoke hookah, but it was the little places that gave you quality.
The café was something he never would have taken a second glance at unless he was absolutely desperate for a cup of tea. Which, on this brisk autumn day, he was.
It’s the definition of what he would categorize as bohemian with a heavy herbal scent and people with worn out novels and dog-eared pages, looking very much like regulars, making Eames very much stand out. Still, even in London, these places were always the best.
Unraveling the scarf from around his neck, he approached the counter and ordered Earl Grey. It didn’t matter how long he stayed in the States, coffee was never going to be substituted for tea. He’s served by a petite brunette who he immediately likes and as he reads her name tag to thank her, he smiles when he says Ariadne.
Turning, and knowing he doesn’t have class until later in the evening, he decides to become familiar with the place. The apartment he shares with fellow grad students wasn’t far off and he had a feeling he’d be coming here more often.
There were empty tables, empty booths, but where ever is the fun in that? Instead he opts for a table occupied by a young man with pointed features that already has Eames raising a brow in interest. He was reading a book on art in Renaissance Florence and the Medici family. Not quite Eames’ tastes but that sweater vest was calling to him.
“Art, huh?” The boy’s eyes slide up only for a moment before he returns to reading. “Never been -” But he’s cut off by Ariadne calling his name. “Hold that thought.”
“He’s not going to respond to you,” Ariadne says simply as she hands him his tea.
“Excuse me?” He says, slightly offended and also a little confused by what she said, as he starts to pour milk into his tea.
“Arthur. The attractive boy reading an art history book you just sat down with?” She arches her eyebrows in a gesture towards him. “You’re not going to get anything out of him.”
“Oh, so, his name’s Arthur is it?” He raises his eyebrows right back and smiles gleefully. “I think you’ve underestimated my renowned flirting abilities, Ariadne.”
She sighs, as if she’s said what she’s about to say a hundred times before. “He’s deaf. That’s why he won’t respond.” Her voice is weighted and she rests her gaze on Arthur sympathetically. When she looks back at Eames, he seems to be transfixed on Arthur, and she worries her lip between her teeth. Abruptly, he thanks her for the tea and walks out. She has a feeling she won’t be seeing him around here again.
-
It’s several weeks before Eames returns to the café. When he approaches the counter, Ariadne is a little dumbfounded. Arthur sits behind them reading, no sign that he noticed Eames enter at all. Eames doesn’t make small talk but smiles politely at Ariadne, waits for his tea, and then makes a beeline for the table Arthur’s sitting at.
Arthur looks up again, his gaze resting a little longer, with a little more curiosity, before he goes back to reading. Art and twentieth century dictators. Lovely, Eames thinks to himself sardonically. He takes a sip of his tea and as soon as he sets it down, he awkwardly begins to sign, ending with introducing himself and spelling out his name (because he has a really fucking weird name, okay). His heart seems to leap in his throat when Arthur looks up, lips parted, and the faint traces of a blush rise to his cheeks. When Eames finishes, looking rather proud of himself, Arthur sets down the book, signs quickly and unexpectedly leaves. The only condolence Eames has is that he swears he could spot a smile on his face as he left.
“He said he’s never taken a particular interest in art focusing on alligators but his curiosity is piqued.”
Eames looks up when Ariadne unceremoniously drops her apron on the table as she sits down for her break. He has nothing to say in reply.
“I am impressed though. I thought as soon as you heard he was deaf, you wouldn’t come back. Now that I know there’s more to you than tacky paisley shirts and a drop-dead gorgeous accent, I have to tell you right now: if you hurt him in any way, I’ll personally see to it that your balls get cut off.”
The only thing running through Eames’ mind (after the initial shock of not wanting his balls cut off) is trying to figure out when he learned how to sign ‘alligator’.
-
The sign language class that Eames signs up for is just about the least pretentious class he’s ever taken in his life. The instructor is far too enthusiastic and the students have a genuine interest in learning the communication skill except for one douche in the back who makes it his mission to turn every sign into the most obscene gesture his pea for a brain can muster and it takes all of Eames’ self-control not to punch him every time he does so.
The teacher is currently teaching them poetry. Eames is hoping for something a little more eloquent than one fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish that he can woo Arthur with.
-
Eames begins to fall into a pattern. He goes to class, he wanders around the city, he avoids his apartment as much as possible because he really doesn’t need to come home to drugs every night, and he stops by the café every day.
He and Ariadne had become good friends. He learns she’s at NYU for architecture and Arthur is there for art history, both undergraduates. He suddenly feels particularly old. They’re roommates in their own apartment and had met their first year of school and had been friends ever since. She doesn’t need to say anything for him to know she’s protective of him. As she should be, he thinks.
It’s different with him and Arthur. They sit together every day and Arthur actually puts his book down for moments at a time to sign to Eames. Ariadne writes down what Arthur says whenever she can to show Eames since he still has absolutely no idea what’s being said half the time. He feels particularly clever when he can reply as if he knows exactly what’s being said, though, with Arthur having no idea that he’d been getting translation (completely unaware that Ariadne tells him once they get back to their apartment).
He tries to ask Arthur out on a date after the ‘alligator’ day. It doesn’t go over well. Arthur grows flustered and panicked, quickly excusing himself and leaving without any warning. Feeling dejected, Eames looks over at Ariadne who gives him a sympathetic but hopeful look, urging him not to give up.
Since then he tries not to be too forward and instead stumbles his way through conversations, attempting to be witty, often resulting in Arthur not being at all amused. When Arthur would sign, he would make noises in the back of his throat that all at once breaks and warms Eames’ heart.
This continues and Eames grows so comfortable with it that on days when Arthur doesn’t come to the café, Eames feels a gaping void that takes him completely by surprise.
-
Fall had officially arrived. And it was gorgeous. Not only for the clean, crisp air and leaves changing color but for the fact that Arthur was growing more comfortable around him, even to the point of letting Eames hold hands with him. It made Eames happier than he’d care to admit.
Arthur had been completely unexpected in Eames’ life. He was a challenge and difficult but Eames knew without a doubt that he was worth it. He had to be or else holding hands with him wouldn’t be nearly as exciting as it happened to be.
Catching Arthur’s attention, Eames speaks slowly so the younger man can read his lips. “How was class?”
Arthur breaks their hands and begins to sign before realizing he’s going too fast. It’s always more difficult when Ariadne isn’t with them to help facilitate between the two of them but they find a way to make it work. It can become increasingly frustrating but when they hold conversations together, it’s an accomplishment that feels like nothing else. He slows his signs down, telling Eames about the girl in his philosophy class who can’t seem to understand the idea that he’s not interested.
It amuses Eames but more than anything he feels a thrill at the fact that he’s the one Arthur’s interested in.
I can’t entirely blame her, he signs as best he can, occasionally having to spell out words rather than sign them whole.
You’re incorrigible, Arthur responds and when Eames’ face grows increasingly perplexed, entirely ignorant of what Arthur said, the younger man simply smiles and grabs Eames’ hand again and walks on.
Unfortunately their peace is soon interrupted.
“Fucking fags, get a room!”
Eames immediately turns and spots two men about Arthur’s age approaching them in entirely too starched shirts, hair practically drowning in gel, and the most unattractive smirks Eames has ever seen in his life. He really doesn’t need this right now. He could just walk away. He really could. But where’s the fun in that?
“Want to try that again? I’m afraid I didn’t catch it.” The smile on his face is some of the best forgery he’s ever done.
“You need to get a room, fags.”
“Ah, right. See, I thought that’s what you said but it just doesn’t make sense because that’s quite the rude thing to say and you seem like a perfectly upstanding gentleman to me.”
“Only when my mommy’s around.”
“Well, in that case.” He shrugs off his jacket and hands it to Arthur, beginning to roll up his sleeves until Arthur grabs his arm and fiercely shakes his head, signing to Eames to just walk away, telling him the apartment isn’t far.
“Oh, look, his boyfriend’s all handicapped and whatever. Isn’t that so sweet? What a tragic love story, I think I’m about to shed a tear.”
That is when Eames has had enough and shoves the jacket into Arthur’s arms, despite the grunts of protest and the warbled shout of his name. He immediately goes at the kid with a fist full of confidence that connects and draws blood. Completely sure of himself given his much larger stature against the kid, he doesn’t count on Mr. Pretentious’ friend joining in which explains his surprise when he’s suddenly attacked from behind, the friend struggling at holding Eames’ arms back but at least distracting him, giving the main kid a chance to pay Eames back for that punch. And again. And again.
That’s when it’s Arthur turn to decide that he’s had enough and with jacket still in hand, he taps on the shoulder of the kid holding Eames’ arm and when he turns, he immediately throws a punch. It doesn’t take Arthur long to get both of them to run.
“I could have used that help a little earlier, darling.” Eames mutters as he places two fingers to his upper lip and feels blood.
-
“I’ve always imagined a pretty boy taking care of me when I’m sick. Or rather, when I’m injured.”
Arthur raises an eyebrow, completely unamused as he cleans the cut on Eames’ lip, dabbing a little harder than necessary at that quip, making Eames wince and berate him for not being gentle.
You’ll never learn to sign if you keep talking to me, Arthur signs matter-of-factly before beginning to put away the medical kit.
Eames sighs and as Arthur walks past him, he grabs his wrist lightly and stands up, taking the medical kit from him and setting it on the table. Are you okay?
Says the invalid.
Eames gives him a pointed look, his turn to not be amused. I’m serious. It can’t have been easy to see what that guy said.
I’ve learned to live with it. You just walk away. I’m used to it.
“Well, I’m not love,” Eames steps closer to Arthur and notices the way he stiffens, notices the heat rise to his cheeks as he places a hand gently on the side of his neck. “And so you’re going to have to learn how to get used to me protecting you.”
The kiss was about as perfect as first kisses get and Eames wraps his other arm around Arthur’s waist, pulling him close, holding him gently. Arthur melts in his embrace, his lips immediately yielding, molding to Eames’ and his hands come up to clutch at his shoulders, ignoring the salt from his tears in their kiss.
-
“You really should just move in with us already.”
“Pardon, love?” Eames asks, lifting his head, holding Ariadne’s hand delicately in his as he pauses in painting her nails.
“Well you practically live here already, why not move in? We know you’re not a fan of where or who you live with now.” She raises her eyebrows at him, her other hand that hasn’t been painted yet resting on Arthur’s head which is in her lap. He doesn’t seem even remotely aware of the conversation, instead focused on watching Breakfast at Tiffany’s.
“What, are you serious?” He is entirely uninterested in continuing to paint her nails at this moment but rather extremely excited at the prospect. It was true he didn’t like where he was living now, especially given the people, and he spends nearly all his free time at Ariadne and Arthur’s apartment and he hangs out with them outside of the apartment as well so the idea of actually living here was definitely appealing.
“Of course we’re being serious! Aren’t we, Arthur?” She nudges the boy on her lap and he looks up at her, obviously confused and bothered at being interrupted from the film. She takes her hand from Eames and signs to Arthur. The boy blushes, catches Eames’ eye, and nods mutely.
Eames doesn’t need any more confirmation than that. “My only problem is why you didn’t ask me sooner. Obviously I’ll move in. You two will finally realize what you’ve been missing.” He makes a face when she teasingly asks: on second thought, can I take back that invitation? and leans in to kiss her cheek before leaning over Arthur and whispering, breath hot on Arthur’s skin, more to himself: “This is going to be fun.” Then he kisses him on the lips, tender and chaste, until interrupted by an exasperated sigh.
“These nails aren’t going to paint themselves, Eames!”
-
I think we should move in together, He’s half on top of Arthur, chin resting on top of Arthur’s chest. It’s an awkward position to sign in but he finds he’s too comfortable to even contemplate moving.
Arthur furrows his brow. We are moved in together.
Eames can’t help but grin. I mean together, together. As in just the two of us.
What about Ariadne?
We can find her a new roommate. Eames can tell from Arthur’s face alone that he’s unsure of the idea. He’s not surprised. One night when Arthur was at class, Ariadne reminded Eames of her threat but this time for different reasons.
(“Arthur’s always been guarded, Eames, for obvious reasons. I’ve never seen him like this with anyone else before.” She let the heaviness of the conversation hang in the air for a moment before dropping the bomb. “I think he loves you.”)
Eames knows Arthur’s afraid and isn’t surprised or upset by it. He’s afraid too. He’d be more concerned if Arthur was jumping for joy at the prospect (though once they talked he hoped they could reach that stage too). He has suspicions that this is the first time Arthur’s been in a relationship like this. There hadn’t been any cliché courting but an act of falling in sync with one another so naturally that they were drawn together like moths to the flame. Their relationship had simply…happened.
Now Eames couldn’t get enough of it. He’s never felt such an overwhelming sensation on his heart and soul as he did when he realized he was falling in love with Arthur. He loves him unashamedly and knows that he’s never going to find anything to ever compare to this (and he hopes he’ll never have to). Arthur had become his saving grace and he knows he’ll never experience the same thrill of running his lips over his hips, pressing down, and giving himself completely. He’ll never find the same thrill in simply doing a crossword together, limbs entangled as he thinks of the most ridiculous answers and Arthur signs the correct answer with a knowing look in his eye, knowing that Eames loves to see his hands move in such intricate ways.
It doesn’t have to happen now. But it isn’t it…a little crowded?
Arthur’s eyes slide away for a moment. Eames presses a soft kiss to his chest. He reaches a hand up and gently pushes Arthur’s chin so he’s looking back at him. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to.” He’s met with silence for several moments and he feels defeated, kissing his chest once more before giving up and laying his head down.
It’s now Arthur’s turn to tug Eames back to his attention. I want to. And he doesn’t have to sign anymore. It’s enough for Eames. Enough for that ridiculously contagious smile to appear as he pushes himself up further in order to kiss Arthur properly, maneuvering his body to completely cover Arthur’s, enjoying the feeling a little too much when Arthur runs his hands down Eames’ back.
-
“Arthur and I are moving out.” Eames says out of the blue as the three of them are sitting around the table playing Scrabble. “Also, what kind of word is aedicule?”
“It’s an architectural - wait, excuse me?”
Before he has the chance to speak, Arthur cuts him off with a glare. This was not how they had discussed breaking the news but Eames has never been one for conventional or appropriate. He signs particularly fast to Ariadne specifically so Eames won’t know what he’s saying. The next thing Eames knows, Scrabble letters are being thrown at him and he’s sputtering and diving from his chair. “Oi! What’s the big idea?”
“Because breaking this news to me over a game of Scrabble is such a great idea, isn’t it, Eames?” Sarcasm is dripping from her every word and Arthur’s standing behind her with a look that clearly says Eames brought this all on himself. “And how am I supposed to pay for this apartment all on my own?”
“Calm down, love, you can’t possibly think I just forgot about you. There’s a girl named Mal, she’s from France and a grad student. She’s looking for a place to live and I’m sure you’d love her. I mean obviously no one will be amazing as Arthur and I, mostly me, and that’s why you’ll come over all the time! And we’ll come here. It’ll be like nothing has changed.”
“Except for the fact that you won’t be living here anymore.”
Eames sighs and he doesn’t have anything to say to that. He feels like this was a long time coming but of course it was never going to be easy. Perhaps he should have stuck with the original plans. And then Arthur proves just why Eames loves him so.
He taps her shoulder and gives her a sad but affirmative look. I love you. But I need this. I need you to understand that.
And of course Ariadne is immediately putty in his hands. She nods and immediately throws herself in Arthur’s arms, tears stinging at her eyes as she clutches to him as if her life depends on it. She understands, Eames knows, understands it’s not the end, just a change. And Eames finds himself considerably moved by Arthur saying he needs this, realizing Arthur needs it just as much as he does.
-
Living together isn’t easy. It brings them closer together, to be certain, and they learn much about one another. Arthur develops a particular fondness for Eames making him breakfast in bed and Eames can’t help but wonder what life was like before this.
Still, it isn’t easy. Eames isn’t home every night. Arthur goes out, likes to wander the Met, but he mostly keeps to himself other than Ariadne and Eames (and to an extension Mal who the three have immediately come to like as well as Cobb, the TA she keeps bringing home). Eames gets suffocated and needs to break out of the norm, as much as he feels so comfortable with the situation he’s discovered for himself. So he goes out, spends his time with other people. The comfort Arthur has is the knowledge that Eames always comes home, even if it’s at three o’clock in the morning, he always slips in to bed and places a kiss to his head.
There’s frustration, there are fights. He’s still learning and he knows he’ll never stop but sometimes it isn’t enough.
He’s working on a paper one day, sitting at the table and typing furiously away, concentration completely thrown into the paper when Arthur comes up and taps him on the shoulder. “Hold on, love.” Moments later the tapping comes again. “Let me just finish this thought.” It completely slips his mind that he’s facing away.
Arthur grunts and taps a littler harder. It’s the breaking point for Eames, breaking his concentration and he spins around and says what in an exasperated tone. Arthur may not be able to hear but the expression on Eames’ face says it all. He takes a step back and his lips part. “God, fuck, Arthur, I’m sorry but I just can’t be here at your every beck and call all the time.” He’s completely given up on signing at this point but it doesn’t matter. Arthur reads his lips and he fills in the blanks on the words he misses. He’s entirely speechless.
“I need a little time, some patience, all right? I can’t sign all the time and you can’t rely on me so much. God, you need to get out there.” He indicates to the window with his arm and he knows he’s taking it too far but he doesn’t stop. “I’m not going to be your only lifeline and watch you around here all the time, constantly pestering me. I won’t.”
Several moments of thick silence pass before: If that’s how you feel, then leave. I’m shocked you stayed this long at all. Arthur bitterly turns away, missing Eames’ shocked expression and he begins to retreat into the bedroom and as he does he hears the front door slam.
It’s some ungodly hour of the morning when Eames returns. There’s alcohol on his breath but he’s not drunk. In fact he’s far more sobered than when he was earlier, when he made a complete arse of himself and was a fucking idiot to Arthur. He slumps inside, an enormous pressure weighing down on him. When he walks into the bedroom and sees Arthur asleep, his breath is taken from him and the earlier events race through his mind. He’s not going to be able to sleep before he makes amends.
As he undresses, he can’t take his eyes of Arthur and when he slips into bed, he instantly draws himself to Arthur, arms enveloping the body, aching for that skin to skin contact and Arthur should be startled awake but he’s so used to this that he wakes with no indication of doing so. Rather than receiving Eames warmly like usual, he’s stiff and it hurts, oh Eames has never felt a pain so strong. He kisses the shell of Arthur’s ear and leans his head on the back of his neck.
Finally, as Arthur slowly turns, Eames immediately looks up. He doesn’t hesitate. I’m sorry. I had no right to say any of that to you. I love you. Please just know I love you.
Arthur presses his lips together and unlike Eames, he hesitates. I know. And I know it isn’t easy. You didn’t ask to sign up for this. I’ve just…I’ve never felt like this with anyone, like my entire being and soul existing depends on us. I’ve never been so scared that losing someone will literally take my soul away.
Eames’ heart soars and he does nothing but lean forward and kiss Arthur soundly on the lips, drawing him in so there’s no space left between them. “How…” but the words die on his lips when he pulls away.
My dad was in the military. We moved around a lot. We were driving and a bomb went off. I didn’t know what happened but when I woke up, I could only hear muffled sounds. In a few hours I couldn’t hear a single thing. The doctor said my eardrums were punctured and that I’d never hear again.
He signs with no indication of emotional trauma on his face, no sign of much of anything. Eames stills and just looks at him, stares at him so long until Arthur is forced to look away, almost as if in shame. Eames leans forward and presses a kiss to his forehead, making him look up again.
“I will never leave you. Quite frankly, you’re stuck with me.”