Work Text:
The papers are scattered across the sidewalk.
That’s how Arthur meets Eames.
Well, not really and not exactly. But undoubtedly thanks to that.
*
The papers are scattered across the sidewalk and Arthur nearly, nearly ignores them, almost steps over and on them but then, at the last second, thinks better of it. Thinks how he would feel if his thoroughly-researched and carefully-drafted (written )essay was stepped on by some passerby just because it was unlucky enough to end up on the street. For the whole two years of his university education Arthur has seen a countless amount of abandoned papers, papers that went missing because their owners rushed to yet another lecture. That’s how life is when you’re a student; some casualties cannot be avoided. And sometimes, just sometimes, there comes a hero who collects the lost papers and hands them back to their rightful owner, secures someone’s passing grade but expects nothing in return. That’s how life is when you’re a student.
Arthur sighs and bends to collect the papers. He tells himself he’s only going to check the name and then search for whoever might have lost their work, but then his eyes slide to the title and it really does sound interesting, and that’s how he ends up reading the whole piece right there in the middle of the sidewalk.
It's brilliant.
It really is a brilliantly written paper.
It's also full of glaring spelling mistakes, something that makes Arthur cringe involuntarily.
Arthur tries very hard not to pull a pen out of his pocket and correct everything on the spot. It’s already enough that he’s just stood like a total idiot and read through the whole four pages, he decides. And because he doesn’t have anything in particular to do that evening, he goes to the library and takes the liberty to play editor.
(He really does hope that this James, the author of the paper, whoever he is, won’t mind.)
*
He manages to find James the next day. Well, at least he suspects it’s James.
*
James is well-built, dressed in a t-shirt with a huge, kaleidoscopic picture of pineapple on it and jeans that are worn out a bit.
James is surrounded by people and he’s loud and he throws his head back when he laughs.
Oh, great. Not really the type Arthur likes.
But it’s not like he has to do anything beyond just handing him his papers back. That’s all Arthur has to do. Really just that.
Oh god, how he hates crowds and loud people and drunken university parties.
Arthur approaches the group, and James -- supposedly James -- must’ve just started telling a story, or maybe a joke, because now Arthur can make out what he’s saying and it’s the middle of the sentence and the things he says, they don’t really make much sense and--
Oh.
James is British.
Well, that’s a bit unexpected, now, isn’t it?
Arthur stops right behind his back and a few people from the group notice him, he can see it in the way their faces morph a little, how those big open-mouthed smiles become just a shade and there’s a mix of surprise and half-friendly politeness. But James doesn’t seem to notice him at all, so deep into telling the story he doesn’t pay attention to anything else.
Oh for god’s sake.
Arthur clears his throat loudly and that does attract James' attention. He stops mid-sentence, arms raised awkwardly now that he’s stopped talking, and looks over his shoulder with an expression of bewilderment. When he spots Arthur, his lips -- very full, very deliciously looking lips, Arthur really can’t help but notice that -- break into a wide smile once again.
‘’Oh, hello there,’’ he greets cheerfully. ‘’Care to join us, love? There’s always a room for some new faces!’’
Oh, great. Really not the type Arthur likes.
‘’Actually no, I’ll pass,’’ he replies, tone neutral, and he swears that James -- supposedly James -- is about to "aww" disappointedly at him. ‘’You’re James, right?’’
The man blinks, losing his stride for a moment.
‘’Yes, that would be me.’’
Arthur nods and hands him the papers.
‘’Here, I think you dropped these yesterday.’’
James looks puzzled when he takes the sheets from his hand, but realization dawns on his face when he starts scanning the rows of text. There’s also a slight touch of surprise, and that’s when Arthur remembers that he’d sat a whole evening correcting his spelling mistakes.
Well, yeah, time to go.
James looks up at him and there’s something unidentifiable on his face, some soft and disbelieving expression that doesn’t quite match the image Arthur has of him, and Arthur can feel his ears burning.
Arthur can see that James is about to open his mouth to say something, but there are all these people standing around watching, so Arthur takes a step back and retreats.
‘’Well, yeah, have a nice day,’’ he throws over his shoulder as he makes his escape. He can hear James calling after him, "Wait up, love!" but he doesn’t slow down, doesn’t stop.
The campus is full of people and soon he gets lost in the crowd.
*
Except James turns out to be persistent.
He finds Arthur the next day in his favourite cafe close to the campus.
"Oh, there you are, sunshine!" He's loud and obnoxious and everyone in the cafe has heard this cheerful and light and very sexy voice, with a very sexy British accent, calling Arthur a pet name as if they were boyfriends.
They're not. They don't even know each other. Well, apart from the fact that Arthur knows his name.
"It's actually very hard to find you around here," James says as he plops into the armchair on the other side of the table.
"Well, yes, I blend in quite effortlessly," Arthur answers for lack of a better response and sips on his coffee. "Can I help you?"
James flashes him a cheeky smile.
"Oh, but you've already helped me, honey," he points out, and Arthur wonders if he always calls people pet names. "You have corrected my atrocious spelling and grammar mistakes, and for that I am both sorry and grateful."
Arthur shakes his head slightly.
"It was nothing, really," he answers because that's mainly true. "Besides, it was really interesting to read your paper. It's quite brilliant, you know."
James looks at him wide-eyed and Arthur doesn't know if he just said something weird or inappropriate or offensive.
"You really liked my essay."
"I did."
"You really liked my essay despite all those horrible mistakes."
Arthur can't help rolling his eyes.
"Well, it's just spelling and a bit of grammar," he says and it's true, it's just nothing more than that. "It doesn't say anything about the quality of what you've written."
And James smiles at him, bright and sincere.
"Not many people see it that way, sweetheart."
"Their loss, I guess," he shrugs, looking James straight in the eye. "I'm Arthur, by the way, since you still don't know my name."
‘’Nice to meet you then, Arthur.’’ And, oh, Arthur very nearly melts on the spot at hearing how his name rolls off James' tongue. That’s ridiculous. He’s ridiculous, goddammit. ‘’My name is--’’
‘’James. I know that, your papers were signed after all.’’ And maybe it’s a bit impolite to interrupt him before he has a chance to introduce himself, but hey, it’s not like Arthur can take it back now. James' face twists into not-so-very-handsome grimace.
‘’Well, yeah, that’s what my name is, technically,’’ he clarifies after a moment of consideration. ‘’But no one apart from my parents call me that, because I bloody hate that name. ’’
‘’So what do I call you?’’
‘’Eames.’’
Arthur blinks. Then blinks one more time because he’s sure he heard wrong. Eames? Like the damn chair? And he really wants to ask, but bites his tongue the last moment. James -- Eames; but really? -- studies his expression carefully, and judging by the smirk playing across his lips, he must be quite used to similar reactions.
‘’But... Really?’’ Arthur finally asks because he will never know peace again otherwise.
‘’Yes, really.’’
‘’But that’s--’’
‘’Unusual? Uncommon? Original and funny?’’
‘’Ridiculous.’’
And James -- Eames -- bursts out laughing, and oh god, he’s one loud motherfucker. Arthur, to his own surprise, can’t find it in himself to be irritated.
After a while, he’s laughing too.
*
And that is how Arthur really meets Eames.
*
It all goes spiralling down from that.
*
‘’So, what are you doing in the States?’’
‘’Exchange, Arthur dear.’’
‘’Ah, so you’re gonna fuck off when the term ends?’’
‘’Unfortunately, yes.’’
‘’That’s a shame.’’
‘’Will you miss me, Arthur dear?’’
‘’Sure as hell I will.’’
And Arthur isn’t quite sure how they ended up in the pub, both of them close to wasted, just after a week or so of being official pals. Arthur doesn’t even drink that much. Arthur actually never drinks that much, ever. He feels like he really does need to inform Eames about it. In fact, it feels like a crucial thing to do right now, informing him about it.
So Arthur leans a little bit closer to Eames, just to be able to tell him, but almost falls off of his chair and ends up with his face smashed into Eames’ chest. Eames laughs at him.
‘’Arthur dear,’’ he slurs, his hands groping blindly at Arthur’s shoulders. ‘’You have to be more careful.’’
Arthur grunts at that and, with great effort, pushes himself off that broad and firm and sexy chest. Then he remembers that there’s this very important thing he has to tell Eames.
‘’Eames,’’ he says but Eames is occupied with his drink— more precisely, with trying and failing to down his drink. Arthur takes a hold of his elbow and shakes. ‘’Eames, dammit, it’s important.’’
Eames looks at him, his eyes unfocused.
‘’What is important, love?’’
‘’Eames, you are demoralizing,’’ Arthur announces proudly, mostly because he manages to say demoralizing on the first try. ‘’I’ve never been so drunk in my entire life, you prick.’’
Unfortunately, Eames seems to be more concerned with something entirely else.
‘’How the fuck can you still say such words?’’
Somehow, they make it to Eames’ flat. Probably because it’s closer than Arthur’s. Arthur doesn’t really care.
*
They spend the next day throwing up and enduring the worst hangover of their lives.
*
‘’Eames, for fuck’s sake, can you please be more quiet when you throw up?’’
‘’Can’t do, Arthur dear.’’
‘’Goddammit. I am never drinking with you again.’’
‘’Liar.’’
*
Eames laughs when Arthur throws up very loudly and very inelegantly.
He stops laughing when it’s his turn to empty his stomach once again .
*
It happens of its own accord. Just like that, Arthur starts spending more and more time with Eames.
Just like that.
*
And despite the fact that Eames must have around a dozen other friends, he never really hangs out with them. Only with Arthur.
It makes Arthur wonder. But it’s not like he has anything against it.
*
Also, he starts correcting Eames’ papers.
‘’Has anybody told you that you’re a genius, Eames?’’ Arthur asks, and it’s more of a rhetorical question, because he himself calls Eames a genius quite regularly.
‘’Yes, Arthur dear. You tell me that quite often.’’
Because Eames really is a genius. And his dyslexia doesn't change that.
*
The weekend starts with a Friday evening, a trip to the music store, and Eames’ new CDs. Music plays on repeat the rest of the night, while Arthur tries very hard to write the damn paper because the deadline is in two days and he really has to get on with it. After just two hours, Eames is singing along with every song. Not that Arthur complains. Eames really does have a good voice.
Saturday afternoon Eames declares that it’s high time to go out and have some fun. It almost sounds like a threat.
They go to karaoke together, despite the fact that Arthur hates karaoke. Besides, his resistance those days is only residual.
‘’Eames, I really don’t like karaoke.’’
‘’Oh, come on, Arthur dear, it’ll be fun!’’
And that’s how it ends. With Eames screaming into the microphone and Arthur’s ear, arm thrown over Arthur’s shoulder. Arthur doesn’t really have to sing, as it’s Eames who does all the work for them both, but seeing him so happy and so full of energy makes Arthur sing, too.
*
‘’That guy right there,’’ Eames roars in an attempt to outshout the music. ‘’He’s been eyeing you ever since you got on the dancefloor!’’
Arthur stops dancing for a second and looks in the direction that Eames is pointing. It's a guy that Arthur spotted as well: the creeper type, absolutely not one Arthur likes. He doesn’t want to occupy his mind with that. So instead, he turns to Eames and starts dancing again. Eames watches him with a glint in his eyes.
‘’I think I’ll pass,’’ he shouts. ‘’Be so kind and play a good date, will you?’’
And Eames smiles widely, teeth showing, and Arthur's stomach flips.
He doesn’t protest when Eames’ body slides behind his own and fits against him, one arm wrapped across his chest, hips swaying.
‘’I’ve got you, Arthur dear.’’
‘’Lucky me.’’
*
They end up drunk again, but not so much as the last time.
They’re at Arthur’s and somehow they manage to share one very uncomfortable bed, and it turns out that Eames is a cuddler, so before Arthur knows it he is entangled in Eames’ limbs, and he thinks what the fuck but also that’s nice and he can’t really sleep that night.
Sleep catches up with him somewhere around four in the morning, and when he wakes up after a few hours of fitful sleep, there’s coffee and breakfast, and Eames is still there.
They laze on the couch the whole day.
*
Arthur realizes that the term will end eventually.
He tries very hard not to count the days.
*
Eventually they start studying for the upcoming exams, because yes, it’s high time for that, and Eames turns out to be really the worst at studying.
He takes a break every ten minutes and then can’t come back to work for another two hours.
He passes all his exams with flying colors, of course he does, because he’s a genius.
Arthur does as well, because he too is rather smart.
*
It’s three days before Eames’ flight back home, to London, when Arthur thinks fuck this and kisses him.
It’s three days before Eames’ flight back home, when he returns the kiss and then kisses Arthur again and again, and again, and undresses him, and Arthur yanks his patterned shirt open so hard that he pops a few buttons. And then it turns out that Arthur is also a genius in more ways than one, and Eames feels weak in the knees, but then stops caring about this at all because Arthur is all he can focus on.
*
It’s two days before Eames’ flight back home when they do it again and again, and never really leave the bed.
*
It’s one day before Eames’ flight back home when they stay in bed as well, and make love some more, but mostly talk about everything and nothing at all.
*
‘’We should’ve done it earlier.’’
‘’It wouldn’t change anything.’’
‘’Probably not. But we would've had more fun.’’
*
Arthur goes with him to the airport. Eames is unusually quiet, holding Arthur’s hand in his own.
‘’One last kiss, darling,’’ Eames says and doesn’t wait for Arthur’s reply, just leans forward and fits their lips together.
‘’I’ll miss you, Mr. Eames,’’ Arthur breathes against Eames’ mouth and it sounds like a goodbye, and it is goodbye.
When Eames pulls back there’s sadness in his eyes, but he smiles anyway.
‘’See you around.’’
*
They don’t.
*
Four years later Arthur comes into the warehouse in Paris, tired after sleepless night spent on researching their mark. He fully expects the working space to be as much a mess as he left it the other night when he was too exhausted to care.
The papers are scattered across the floor.
And there’s also a familiar figure picking them up, and for a moment Arthur forgets how to breathe. He reaches for his pocket, because no way, it can’t be real, I must be dreaming and at the very same time the figure straightens and turns to him.
And it’s Eames, older than he used to be, but with the very same smile and very same delicious lips.
The dice in his pocket has a familiar weight, and it feels real, more real than it usually does in dreams.
‘’Well, hello, darling,’’ Eames greets him, and there’s fondness and warmth in his voice. ‘’I think you dropped this yesterday.’’
‘’Well hello, Mr. Eames, long time no see,’’ he counters, and can’t help his smile. There’s only one explanation for Eames being here, in the warehouse. ‘’However impossible and absurd that might sound, I take you’re our forger.’’
‘’You know me so well, darling.’’
And somehow, suddenly they’re only inches apart, and Arthur thinks, ah, fuck this, and maybe Eames does too, and before any of them can think any further, their lips meet.
*
They end up in Arthur’s hotel room that very same night.
They might just be a little drunk.
Their clothes are left scattered across the bedroom floor.
*
And that’s how Arthur finds Eames again.
Well, not really and not exactly, and maybe it’s the other way around, and maybe not like this at all.
But Arthur really doesn’t care.