A/N: So, this is my first High School AU ever I decided to write although I have no idea of American High Schools. I don't know how this one happened and where it will go, but feel free to suggest things to me! :) Happy Holidays everyone!
Arthur was fuming.
He had been so stupid, so fucking stupid. He had made an utter fool of himself; blame it on the alcohol. But still. It was so embarrassing.
Arthur hit the drums harder as the pictures of last night played in his head over and over again. He hadn't wanted to go to the party, but Charles had teased him again what a stick in the mud he was and Arthur had been so sick of it. He had taken Ariadne with him as support, but she hadn't been very helpful, because she had given him way too much alcohol in trying to cheer him up. There wasn't anything mean behind the actions; she just thought that Arthur allowed himself too little fun in his life. But considering he was Charles' brother, Arthur had actually no other choice than to be the responsible and mature of the two of them.
And then there had been Eames. Of course he had been there, that was one of the reasons Charles had wanted to go to the party in the first place. Eames, the stunning, beautiful star of the football team, one year older than Arthur and far out of his league. Besides those obvious reasons why Eames wouldn't even know that Arthur existed at all, there was still Charles, who was senior as well, funny, outgoing and the centre of attention everywhere he went. No chance at all.
But still, as Eames came towards Arthur, grinning widely, Arthur hadn't thought about any of those facts. He had been blushing like the virgin he still was, but smiled back shyly nonetheless. And Eames … had passed by Arthur, squeezing behind him to hug Clarissa (stupid princess of the school) and kiss her on the cheek.
Of course.
How could he have been so stupid to think that Eames would acknowledge him, let alone want to talk to Arthur? Nerdy, quiet Arthur, the king of the library, the computer room and the history club. Why should someone like Eames be interested in him, when there were manicured, giggling girls or cool, well-built boys around?
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Arthur hit the drums at a frightening speed now. After an hour he finally stopped. He was too exhausted to feel any rage at his own foolishness anymore. Instead he had reached another level of embarrassment.
He just prayed that his brother would never know about his crush on Eames. Not only because Charles tried to get into Eames' pants for a while now, but also because he would mock him to no end, make jokes about him and his hopelessness. Sometimes Arthur hated his brother. He never took Arthur seriously, always the big brother who got into trouble too easily, who was always able to catch their parents' attention effortlessly, who didn't think about consequences or the feelings of others very much. Charles took what he wanted, not even asking beforehand. Arthur didn't make trouble, he got good marks, he was reliable, helped without being told to do so and didn't complain about everything. It was practically expected from him. But he wished sometimes he would be able to do something reckless just to let people notice that he was there as well. People like Eames.
Lost cause.
Arthur sighed and put his sticks away. Time to go home.
#
"Arthur, please!"
He scowled.
Ariadne turned him around so she could use her puppy dog eyes with full force on him. "Arthur, Nash is a bastard and you've been right from the very beginning, ok, but please, I need a drummer!"
Arthur knew he couldn't win, so he threw his hands up in defeat. "Fine!"
Ariadne almost tackled him down as she hugged him tightly. Arthur preferred not to think about the consequences of what he just had agreed to. But he loved Ari and he loved music, so he was quite happy to help.
"Oh God, thank you! It would look rather silly just me on the stage. I mean, I could, but the songs need drums to show their full and true potential and –"
"Wait a minute", Arthur interrupted her happy babbling. "Which stage? I thought you only needed a partner to practise with."
Ariadne gave him her famous eye roll. "The talent show? In two weeks?"
"What?"
"Thanks so much, Arthur! I owe you one!", Ariadne yelled as she moved down the corridor to her next class.
And there she went, leaving him alone with his misery.
Arthur still stood dumb folded in front of his locker. Had he just agreed to take part in the school's talent show? Apparently. And making a proper fool of himself in front of the whole school. Congratulations, Mr Tidwell. Life was not only not his friend. Life hated him with passion.
#
Arthur nervously fumbled with his tie. Far too soon the two weeks had been over and now here he stood behind thick curtains together with a fidgety Ariadne and waited for their time to shine. Only they wouldn't shine.
The music they made together was good, no doubt. Ariadne even was convinced that it had reached a completely new level of quality now that Nash wasn't messing things up anymore. Ariadne's voice was lovely, her presence on the stage was lovely. When she played her guitar and Arthur completed the melody with the rhythm of his drums, it was as though they discovered new stages of their understanding for each other. Like they could communicate blindly. It was astonishing and a bit scary. But Arthur was quite sure they wouldn't put the audience into an ecstatic mood.
Ariadne glanced at him and gave him a nervous smile. "You look good."
"Thanks. You're not that bad yourself."
It didn't trigger the usual punch to his shoulder. Ariadne really was nervous.
Arthur wore nothing special at all, only his usual combination of dark jeans, button-up and sneakers. The tie he had added last minute, because he wanted to look halfway decent when the whole school was watching his downfall.
Ariadne wore more make-up than she would usually and a new scarf, which underlined the momentary paleness of her face.
"Arthur", she urged him suddenly. "I think I have to throw up."
Unfortunately this was the moment, when the coordinator of this whole damn thing came over and said: "You're up next. Get in that corner over there!"
Arthur pulled Ariadne up with him. "Breathe", he whispered into her ear and she did. And then they were out on the stage, someone announcing them as the musical act A Lion's Soul and Arthur took his place behind the drum set that was clearly sponsored by someone, because this was way better than the shitty one that the school owned.
Ariadne stood a bit in front of him, but Arthur could still see her hands trembling. Hopefully she got through it and calmed down once she started playing.
She started, but only managed because her fingers knew the movements by themselves. Arthur frowned as she played the intro a second time without making any attempt to sing. Ariadne threw a panicked glance over her shoulder at him and he did the only thing he could do in that moment. Some people in the audience already started to get impatient, so as Ariadne started the intro a third time, he sang instead of her.
It wasn't as if he had never sung before; he was even the background vocal of their duo. But he was clearly not used to carry out the lead singing; that was Ariadne's part. But they switched so easily as if they had never done it the other way around before and Arthur found himself enjoying it more than he would have expected to. He grinned like a maniac as he threw everything he had onto the drums and into the song, watching Ariadne as she got the grip on herself back, leaving the lead vocals to him for their entire show of three songs. Arthur had never felt so high in his life.
Their three songs were over far too fast for his liking and as he stood up to give Ariadne a reassuring kiss on her cheek, he only then realized that there was an audience, which he was able to forget thanks to the blinding spotlights. Suddenly he felt self-conscious as he remembered having closed his eyes during the performance, totally engulfed into the lyrics. He never got very emotional in front of others and now he had bared his soul in front of the entire school.
"That was awesome, Arthur!", Ariadne said grinning at him.
And Arthur realized in utter disbelief that the people were indeed cheering.
#
The next days after the talent show, which a dance group had won, Arthur felt very uncomfortable. Students, who had never spoken a word with him before, came over and told him how awesome he had been and what respect they had for him to do such a thing considering his shyness.
It was nice to hear that people had liked his singing, but Arthur got more and more frustrated that everyone seemed to think that he had wanted to overcome shyness. He wasn't shy. He only didn't feel the need to be the focus of common interest like his brother. He was a private person and music was the only thing where he allowed his emotions to take over him.
Of course his brother was the only one, who hadn't been impressed in the slightest. He was indeed a bit grumpy, but not for long as he found a new subject soon enough to distract their parents with. This time it was a motorbike that he wanted dearly after Eames had showed him his. This developed into a discussion about responsibility and money and the latest ticket Charles had gotten for parking in the wrong place with Dad's car. So Arthur's newly discovered passion for music faded a bit into the background and a bit more the next time Charles' brought home a bad mark and then some more. It was nothing new to Arthur and actually not on purpose by his parents, but it still hurt.
Arthur sighed and stuffed books into his locker to take out others he would need this afternoon, as someone cleared their throat politely behind him. He turned around expecting another person he had never spoken to and nearly dropped his books.
In fact, he had never spoken to this person, but this wasn't just some student from his school either. Behind him stood Eames with a lopsided grin on his face.
"Hey", he greeted casually.
"Hi", stammered Arthur.
"You're Arthur, right?"
Awkward nodding.
"See, I, uh, have a little problem and maybe you could help me? Your brother Charles told me that you're some kind of history freak, that right?"
Arthur felt himself stiffen immediately. Of course this was some kind of prank.
"Depends", he said clipped.
Eames shuffled a bit with his feet and Arthur would have fallen for this little gesture of insecurity if he hadn't known that Eames was quite a skilful actor, who had played an amazing Hamlet in last year's school performance.
"I have to write this essay about industrialization and its consequences for society and economy as well as its influence on imperialism and I've no idea where to start, because I absolutely suck at historic dates and figures and connections. I know that this is not the topic of your history class at all, but maybe you could give me some book tips or something?"
He stared openly desperate at Arthur and if that was fake as well, then Eames was going to get every movie award ever available on the planet.
"Seriously?", Arthur asked sceptical.
"I understand if you have a lot to do, but I need a good mark on this thing, otherwise I'll fail class. And from what I understood what your brother said about you, you're quite the mastermind in history. Arthur?"
Arthur wasn't sure if it was the compliment or the pleading tone, but he heard himself speak before his brain could catch up: "Ok, I guess I could work out with you a rough structure of the essay and lend you some books."
"Really? Goodness, Arthur, thank you! Can you come to mine at four? It's 258 Nolan Street."
Arthur opened his mouth to protest, because weren't they going to do this in the school's library or at least at some neutral place like a café, which would have been nerve-racking enough? But Eames was grinning again, walking backwards to dive into the stream of students.
"And by the way: your performance was bloody brilliant, darling!"
Arthur's jaw dropped and he stared at the spot, where Eames stood just seconds ago. Darling? Eames had called him darling? Eames had appeared him and spoken with him and on top of that invited Arthur to his home?
He was still staring as Ariadne appeared beside him.
"What happened? Arthur, are you ok? You look like you've seen a ghost or something."
He slowly turned around to her. "Yeah, something like that. Eames wants my help with a history essay."
Ariadne gaped at him. "Really? Oh, Arthur, that's your chance!"
"No, it's not. I'm going to embarrass the hell out of me, that's going to happen!"
#
Arthur dismounted his bike at exactly five minutes to four. Nervously he pushed his glasses back up his nose before he rang the doorbell. A woman with brown hair and warm eyes opened.
"Yes?"
"Hello, uhm, I'm Arthur. I'm here to help Eames with his essay." Somehow it came out like a question.
"Come on in, darling. Eames is still in the shower, he only got back from practice. Would you like some tea?"
Arthur followed her into the house, blushing furiously as he remembered that calling someone darling was quite common for British people and shouldn't be taken too seriously. He should have known, but apparently his heart was too keen to take everything as a sign that his stupid crush wasn't one-sided.
Eames' mother was very kind and he soon found himself discussing the new health care system with her as Eames came down the stairs, freshly showered.
Arthur coughed into his cup of tea, because Eames' hair was still wet and his t-shirt clung too tightly onto his broad shoulders. Thankfully Eames' mother chose this moment to ask Eames about school, so his act of mortification wasn't noticed.
"Shall we then? Arthur?"
Arthur's head snapped up as he became aware of the fact that Eames was actually speaking with him.
"Uh, yes. Yes, of course. Thank you for the tea, Mrs Riordan."
Eames' mother gave him a smile as he trailed after Eames upstairs to his room. Eames' room was big and a bit messy, but without any old pieces of pizza or empty cans stacked on the desk, for which Arthur was thankful. He had nothing against a bit of chaos, but he wasn't a fan of cultivating bacteria on leftovers. He grinned a bit as he discovered Eames' only plant in the room: a dusty cactus.
"So, this is the assignment. I've already read a little bit about the topic, but it's still so confusing. Please, sit down." Eames waved with his hand to his bed and Arthur sat down slowly while inspecting the sheet of paper Eames gave him.
The assignment was written in very complex sentences, which made it look like a hell of an essay, but it wasn't that complicated.
The bed dipped and Arthur was suddenly aware of the fact that he was alone with Eames in his room. He took some measured breaths to keep his fluttering heart at bay.
"You know that the industrialization took place in Britain as one of the first countries?", he asked just to say something.
"I know. I guess this is the reason why Mr Clinton gave me this thankless assignment", Eames groaned.
Arthur felt the tips of his ears getting hot at this sound, but he couldn't suppress his smirk. Eames bumped his arm and Arthur looked up to find Eames grinning as well.
"That's not funny, Arthur."
He shrugged apologizing. "Do you have a pencil?"
"Sure."
For the next three hours they were engrossed in various books and websites, searching for quotes and texts, writing the rough structure down and marking pages after pages of books. In-between, Eames' mother came to bring them some snacks on a tray and they ate while working.
Arthur would never have believed that Eames was one of those students, who could stay focussed on a task for hours, even if it was something he was not particularly a fan of. But Eames didn't complain; he worked as hard as Arthur and tried to seriously understand the matter at hand. First he mixed up dates or the line of events, but then Arthur suggested he should imagine this as one enormous play, where main characters could become a minor part over the time. Eames' eyes lit up instantly and he could remember the events easier, although he sometimes focussed on something that was in Arthur's eyes only trivial.
It was shortly after seven as Eames straightened his back with a groan. "Do you think we have a concept, darling?"
Arthur was too tired to get riled up with the pet name. "I certainly think we already did a good part of the first third of your essay. You only have to write it down properly."
Eames hummed delighted as he snatched another cherry tomato from the bowl between them. "I seriously need a break now, otherwise I'm going to dream about Spinning Jennies."
Arthur watched him close the books that they had strewn over the floor and turn on the TV. He gathered his things as well and stood, ready to head home. He felt a bit awkward to stand in the middle of Eames' room not knowing what to say after hours of working effortlessly well together with him.
"Ok, I … I'm heading home, then, yeah?"
Eames turned around and gave him a surprised look. "Do you have to?"
"I told my parents, I would as soon as we finish …" Arthur could feel himself blush again under Eames' stare.
"Oh, come on, Arthur. It's only after seven and it's Friday. Relax a bit, enjoy the coming weekend. Text your parents that you'll be home in an hour. I'll drive you home, if you want to."
Arthur bit his lip. Helping Eames with schoolwork was one thing, but hanging out with him? It was all he had ever wanted and expected to never have it.
"Please?" Eames looked up at him from under his eyelashes and Arthur's restrain just melted away. Fuck it, even if this was an evil prank or would never happen again; no one would be able to take the moment from him, where he had been at Eames' and done something for fun.
Arthur sat down next to Eames, who grinned like a boy at Christmas, and pulled out his mobile to inform his parents. Meanwhile, Eames fumbled with the DVD player and pressed some buttons. A controller was pushed into his hands as soon as Arthur put down his mobile again.
"Ever played Black Ops?", Eames asked eagerly.
Arthur only shook his head. He had never played any video games before in his life. Charles had an Xbox, but he wouldn't let Arthur play with it, let alone Arthur would ask him for it. It just had never interested him. He felt his heart drop. Eames obviously loved to play this game and now he would have an agonizing experience with Arthur. He would never want to do something with Arthur again, because who couldn't play video games like any normal boy would certainly suck at anything else Eames enjoyed to do.
Arthur sighed heavily.
Eames mistook this as a sign of frustration regarding the game only. "Don't worry, I'll explain it. It's actually quite easy, you only have to be quick."
Arthur listened to Eames' explanation with knitted brows and tried to remember when to press which button. When the game started, he was hesitant at first, but then he engulfed himself more and more into the game and it started to make fun. Arthur couldn't believe it. He was quite good at it considering his figure was still alive and not out of ammo.
"Fuck!", exclaimed Eames suddenly and Arthur jumped a little. For a short moment he had forgotten that he played together with Eames.
"What?", asked Arthur nervously.
"I always get killed here! Watch out, darling! Behind you!"
Arthur snapped his head back to the screen in time to see an assassin coming towards him from behind. He ducked and turned around, his heart beat quickening as the assassin came close enough for a man-to-man battle.
He felt Eames move beside him anxiously, shouting warnings and advice, but Arthur acted blindly and somehow the assassin slumped to the ground.
There was a stunned silence, where Arthur let out his breath.
"You bloody bugger", whispered Eames suddenly close to his ear. Arthur turned around to face him. What he saw made him gulp nervously. Eames looked amazed.
"How did you do this?"
"I have no idea!"
"Come on, again. You have to show me!"
After nine more shots Eames gave up. Arthur had been able to get rid of the assassin every single time and was faster with every try, but Eames had only managed it two times. Arthur felt wonderful. Not because he was better than Eames at this ridiculous video game, but because it felt like they had done this for years, laughing together, pulling each other's leg, bickering and grinning at each other.
"Fuck, Arthur, you're a bloody champion!", Eames said as they went down the stairs. Arthur grinned devilish as he slipped into his jacket. "Maybe you're just too slow, old man."
"Oi, watch it!", Eames laughed. "Shall I drive you home?"
"No, I'm with my bike, I'm fine. But thanks … and thanks for dinner …" Suddenly he felt nervous again, stepping out of Eames house and out of the happy bubble of pretended friendship. But Eames smiled softly at him as he got on his bike.
"No, thank you, Arthur. You've been an amazing help. Could you come next Friday again? I'll try to write the first part of my essay until then."
"Sure."
"Ok, see ya then. Be careful, yeah?"
Arthur couldn't help but roll his eyes at this. "I'll try."
Eames chuckled. "Good night, Arthur."
Arthur grinned the whole way back home and tried not to think too hard about Eames' eyes or Eames' lips or Eames' laughter. As he arrived at his house and put his bike into the garage, reality had caught up with him. This was a too good thing to happen to him and surely there would be a bitter wake-up moment for him waiting around a corner. But for now, he was happy with what he had gotten.
#
Their weekly routine continued for over one month. Arthur would come to Eames' each Friday afternoon to go through the half-written essay and help Eames with the research and after a couple of hours they would relax with an hour of Black Ops. But once the essay was written, edited and re-edited, there was no reason for Eames to invite Arthur over again.
Arthur didn't want to admit it, but he was down. He had enjoyed his month with Eames and his formerly mostly superficial crush had turned into something he couldn't put a finger on. Eames was charming beside his accent, intelligent and swift. They had discussed the topic of the essay in earnest and sometimes Arthur got too passionate, but Eames was patient and really considered the things he said. It had been as if they were real friends.
So on Monday after a Friday without Eames and Black Ops, Arthur was quite miserable and snappish. Of course Ariadne would pick up the reason behind his low mood and of course she knew the perfect cure for his gloom.
"Come on, Arthur. At least give it a try!"
"I don't know, Ari. A band? With me as a singer? That's not very promising."
Ariadne huffed annoyed. "Don't make yourself smaller than you are. You have been amazing and you know that. Those people have asked me about a band, because they heard you sing and thought it sounded indeed very promising."
Arthur pushed his glasses up. He still was not convinced. He would absolutely love to do this, but singing with people he didn't know? Ariadne was his best friend, but those other students were practically strangers for him. He was not very comfortable with showing his feelings so openly and so easily to others.
Arthur glanced around distracted by his thoughts, as his eyes landed on a familiar figure. Eames. Eames who looked directly at him from the other end of the corridor; Eames, who smiled suddenly and opened his mouth as if wanting to say something and then Charles appeared out of nowhere in front of Eames, laid an arm over his shoulder and dragged Eames away. Eames didn't even glance back.
Stop getting your hopes up, Arthur!, he shouted at himself. Eames wanted your help, which he had gotten; he had appreciated it and shown his thanks by treading you like a mate. But that's it. So stop being stupid!
Arthur clenched his jaw tight. "Alright", he said, still not looking at Ariadne. "But we're better going to be spectacular."
"Aye, sir!", responded Ariadne grinning broadly. "Three o'clock in the music room, if it pleases thee."
Arthur felt himself smile despite his foul mood. "You suck!"
Ariadne gave him a quick peck on his cheek. "Love ya, too, honey!"
"Go!", shouted Arthur, now laughing openly and shoved her towards her classroom. She only stuck her tongue out.
#
Only three months after his involuntary participation in the school's talent show, Arthur prepared himself to go out on a stage again. But this time, things were different. For one, he actually wanted to do this. He even looked forward to it. But on the other hand, he was an anxious bundle of nerves. He was going to sing. Thank God, it was some club, where half of the people went to for beer and not the music and the other half was enjoying the company of others.
Arthur looked at himself critically in the mirror. He had decided for contacts since his glasses always went down his nose when it started to get sweaty. His hair was a mess, all curls after he couldn't use the hair dryer since someone had broken it. And his white shirt simply sucked. Arthur loosened his tie so it hung around his neck while he peeled out of the shirt.
Fuck, he would be too late!
Arthur stomped down the stairs. "Mom, do you know where my –"
He stopped so abruptly that he almost fell down the last stairs. Down in the hallway stood Charles together with Eames. His brother eyed him from head to toe and a smirk started to spread across his face.
"Sorry, little bro, but until you can join the Chippendales it's going to be a long way!"
Arthur was absolutely frozen in place. This wasn't happening. He wasn't standing half-naked in front of Eames. His heart was racing and the hand with which he clung to the handrail began to sweat mercilessly.
Arthur didn't dare to look in Eames' direction. The heat emerging from his face was indicator enough that he looked utterly ridiculous. He could perfectly do without seeing the glee in Eames' face.
"What's wrong, honey?"
Arthur needed a moment to realize that his mother had joined them in the hallway.
"I", cracked Arthur out. "I need my black dress shirt."
"I'm sorry, but that's in the laundry, Arthur. Why don't you put on the white one? I think you look fine in that one."
"Trying to impress a girl, Artie?", mocked Charles.
Suddenly Arthur was angry. Angry, because he would have to wear his white shirt that got half-transparent if it just drizzled on it; angry, because he looked like a fool in front of Eames; angry, because his brother was so absolutely ignorant again.
"No, Charlie, I'm going to play a show in less than an hour as you may recall", barked Arthur. "A show for which I'm gonna be too late since you managed to drive the car into a street light yesterday and now I have to take the bus, which takes ages until I am where I ought to be!"
Arthur turned around without waiting for an answer and sprinted to his room. This whole band thing was a bad idea from the very beginning and now the full catastrophe hit him in the face. He slipped into the white shirt with clipped movements, straightened the tie again, grabbed his jacket, mobile and wallet and was out of his room again.
The three of them were still in the hallway; his mother and Charles were arguing again – probably about the car – and Eames stood awkwardly next to them. He looked up though, as Arthur flew down the staircase.
"I can drive you."
It was so quiet that Arthur almost missed it. He turned around, one sneaker dangling from his hand. Eames stood pretty close to him and looked deadly serious. No amusement sparkling in those grey-blue eyes that Arthur adored so much.
"You …"
"I'm here with my bike. I have a spare helmet, since I drove Charlie here. I mean, it would be much quicker than the bus."
"Really?"
"Of course. I can speed up to 50 km/h, ya know."
Arthur gave him his best death glare, but Eames only grinned slyly and Arthur could see his crooked teeth. Oh damn.
"What? I thought we'd watch a movie", interrupted Charles suddenly.
Eames turned around and Arthur used this moment to finally put on his shoes.
"Look, mate", said Eames and Arthur was pretty sure that he sounded impatient. "We can watch this movie at any other evening, but I don't think that Arthur has to perform on a regular basis."
"So it is your duty to drive him there?", asked Charles annoyed. Arthur just wanted to be gone by now.
"No, it's not, but I like to. Maybe I want to hear him sing again, because he is bloody awesome at it."
The blood rushed into Arthur's head again and then down south. Holy fuck, why must Eames' accent become even thicker when he was a little irritated? Oh God, Arthur was so screwed.
"You know that it's probably just some lame choir or something, yeah?", Charles snorted.
"Does that mean you have no idea what kind of music your brother makes?", asked Eames disbelieving.
And then Arthur witnessed a moment he thought would never occur ever. Charles was speechless. Not for long, but long enough for Eames to turn around, smirk again at Arthur and drag him out of the house towards his motorbike.
Arthur heard his mother wishing him good luck and Charles calling after Eames, but then Eames pushed a helmet on his head and the world was strangely muffled.
For Arthur the ride to the little club was a blur. He sat behind Eames on his vibrating machine and slung his arms around Eames' waist as tightly as he dared. He was on cloud nine. He had never hoped he could be Eames this close for whole twenty minutes. They flew through the streets and Arthur felt the adrenaline rush through his body every time Eames cut a corner tightly.
When they arrived at the club Arthur dismounted with shaky legs.
"Are you alright?", Eames asked him as Arthur pulled the helmet from his head and ruffled his hair into an even more hopeless mess than before.
Arthur just grinned as widely as he never had before in his life and Eames laughed.
#
"Arthur, thank God!" Ariadne nearly sobbed in relief as he came into the little room that was their backstage area. "I called you a hundred times already!"
"I'm sorry! Really. But everything's ok now, we can start."
"What happened with your hair?", asked Eli. Eli was their drummer, actually a metal fan and had zero hair on his skull, but a very impressive full beard instead.
Arthur glanced into the tiny mirror that hung on the wall and cursed. His hair looked like a bird's nest.
"Here, try my comb", suggested Ariadne.
"Do you wanna have some of my hair spray?", asked Damien, who had a neatly styled, but purposefully ruffled looking Mohawk.
"Here, take this", said Dana in her calm voice and held out a battered top hat.
Arthur eyed the hat sceptically and Dana rolled her eyes and pressed the hat on his head without another comment. Arthur glanced back at the mirror and found that he looked grotesque. But not more than Ariadne and Dana with their dark make-up around their eyes or Eli with his solid working boots and rough trousers but no shirt or Damien with his eye-patch (he had had an accident once and now bright light made his eye water) or Jay with his black nail polish. They looked like freaks and they probably were some considering the crazy music they had created over the last weeks.
But Arthur felt strangely at home. Those people had slowly earned his trust and proven themselves worthy a couple of times now. Their music was Arthur's brake-out of his normal life, where he preferred to stay put together and keep to himself. He shortly thought about Eames, who might or might not have stayed to watch the show, but damn it. He loved making this music and although he might be in love with Eames a little bit, Arthur was a realist and knew that their music was actually really happening, wherein his chances at coming together with Eames tended towards zero. Yes, Eames acted friendly towards him, but Arthur guessed it was out of gratitude or pity and certainly not because Eames was interested in him. Not after he had seen his scrawny body. Arthur shuddered at the sheer memory of that moment.
The owner of the club peered into the room. "Ready, guys?"
Dana nodded.
"Good. Then off you go, the people start to get excited!" He winked and was gone again.
"Ok, guys. This is it", said Damien. He sounded half excited and half sick with nerves. Arthur felt the urge to hide behind the bin.
They gathered in the middle of the room in a circle and put their hands over one another. No one said a word, but somehow Arthur felt his nerves calming down. They were in this together; they could do this together.
"Hey!", shouted Eli and everyone yanked their hand in the air that was suddenly loaded with anticipation. And just like that Arthur was thrilled. He was ready to show off, no matter how many people were listening as long as they didn't interrupt them.
The others entered the little stage and started with the intro. A few people in the crowd cheered, but Arthur didn't register it. He stayed in the shadows, waiting for his entry. He couldn't see the people in the club very good, because the lights were so dimmed, but that was a good thing. It helped him to let go.
When he stepped finally to the microphone, he felt himself slipping into singing mode, something that was still new for him and scared the hell out of him every time he did. But it helped that the people in the club didn't know Arthur or how he normally would behave.
He gave up his cool reservation and though he was a bit wooden for the first few minutes it all melted away the more he became engrossed with their music. It was totally crazy and Arthur felt himself again slipping into their bizarre world Dana loved to describe as a wonderfully sick dream, where it was weird not being odd.
Arthur was nefarious, cocky and playful. He gave all his heart into the songs and as the audience actually went with the music although they had never heard it before, Arthur couldn't stop himself. He didn't recognise himself as he played with the audience, made them cheer and clap a rhythm; he had never felt so alive, not even behind Eames on his motorbike.
They all seemed to be in a state of trance: the people, his band colleagues, himself. It was pure ecstasy, energy, extravagance and Arthur didn't want it to be over. Arthur didn't feel it as he hit his thumb with the crowbar as he slammed onto the old oil barrel they had as an extra percussion. He knew that he was drenched in sweat and that probably everybody could see through his shirt, but it didn't matter. His hair was damp under the top hat, but he didn't want to put it down.
As they approached the end of their show, they went totally wild. They celebrated their last three songs by blending music and lights to an ultimate feast. Arthur sang on top of his lungs standing on top of the barrel that Damien hit full force.
"Thank you, you've been amazing! We're A murder of crows", said Arthur breathlessly at the end and then the lights went out.
#
They stayed in the club afterwards, getting their free beer and chatting with quite a few people, who had loved their show and wanted to know more about the band. Arthur didn't say much, because he was absolutely hoarse, but he felt utterly overwhelmed by all those people. He felt a small pang of disappointment, as he couldn't discover Eames in the crowd. Although this shouldn't surprise him, a small part of Arthur that seemed totally illogical, had still hoped. No need to dwell on the impossible, sighed Arthur inwardly.
It was some time later that he said good-bye to his band mates by gesturing like an idiot, because not one syllable would come out of his mouth.
"Oh, if it's ok, I come with you! We can share cab", said Dana gleefully and Arthur nodded.
"Then I'm coming, too!", piped Ariadne and drowned the rest of her beer.
"Oh, yeah, fine. Just let us do all the work with packing up the equipment!", complained Jay, but he wasn't serious, because he rarely let someone else touch his precious guitar.
"Oh, you'll be alright, guys." Dana smirked and gave the three of them a motivation peck on their cheeks and they truly looked convinced as Ariadne did the same.
"Please just not you!" Eli covered his cheeks with his hands as he glanced at Arthur. This idea wouldn't even have occurred to Arthur. But now that Eli looked mockingly horrified at him, Arthur felt cheeky and was still high on adrenaline, so he lunged forward to press a kiss on Eli's bald head.
Eli ranted like an old fishwife, but the rest of them roared with laughter.
Ariadne and Dana were still giggling, as they left the club, each ten bucks richer now. It wasn't overwhelming, but they hadn't done this for money anyway, so it was a nice bonus. Ariadne and Dana had linked arms with Arthur, so he walked in their middle and felt ridiculously like their sugar daddy and their little brother at the same time.
"Oh", whispered Ariadne suddenly and Arthur looked up as she slowly entangled their arms.
Oh. Indeed.
"We see you Monday", breathed Dana in his ear, kissed him on the cheek and let go of Arthur's arm as well. Arthur tried to protest, but he didn't have a voice anymore. So he could only watch Ariadne and Dana waving him good-bye and smirking like Cheshire cats as he stood there in the parking lot of the club. Where Eames leaned against his motorbike.
That wasn't fair. He couldn't speak and they let him alone with Eames? What kind of friends were they? Arthur felt his heart flutter in his throat as he regarded Eames with a – what he hoped – reserved look. It was probably not very convincing as his face heated up again.
Eames came towards him with his usual swagger that made Arthur's knees wobbly every time. Arthur assumed that he looked like a complete idiot, staring openly and not saying a word.
"Hey", said Eames, scratching the back of his head. "Sorry for missing the end of the show, but a friend called with what he assumed was an emergency, but wasn't at all and you've been amazing, the show, I mean, it was awesome, mind-blowing and Christ, Arthur, I wouldn't have believed it was you, if I hadn't driven you here myself, because you've killed those people with your charm and charisma and you had me totally twisted around your finger and I'm definitely not one who's an easy target, at least I claim myself to say so …"
Arthur blinked like an owl in broad daylight. Not that he was able to interrupt Eames' flood of words anyway, but if he was not thoroughly mistaken then Eames was babbling. Babbling as one did, because one was nervous.
And he said that you had him twisted around your finger, a voice in Arthur's head screamed hysterically.
Arthur tried to swallow, but his throat hurt and he made a whining noise. That seemed to snap Eames out of his tirade and he glanced worriedly at Arthur.
"You alright?"
Arthur opened his mouth, but only managed a cracked sound and so he settled to wave his arms around the air ridiculously.
Eames looked lost, until Arthur got out a barely audible "can't". Eames face turned angry, wherein Arthur's face turned red, because now Eames was thinking he made some kind of joke and … oh.
Eames gently put his jacket around Arthur's shoulders that smelled heavenly of him and bit of engine oil.
"You shouldn't stay out here, darling, or your voice is never going to recover over the weekend."
Eames was so close now that Arthur could count each of Eames' eyelashes that framed his mesmerizing eyes. Arthur's breath hitched as Eames pulled the jacket tighter around his shoulders and brushed his hands shortly across the lapels. Then he dropped his arms to his side as if he just realized what he did there. Eames glanced down to his feet, but remained where he stood.
"Youwannahaveacoffeewithme?"
"Wha?", croaked Arthur.
Eames took a deep breath and looked up. Was this the light or did Eames … did he blush?
"Would you like to … to have a coffee with me? Sometime?"
Arthur swayed on his feet. Woah. The world shifted slightly, but this was ok since this was a dream anyway. It had to be. First, being seen half-naked by the crush of your life, then been driven to a club on a motorbike by said crush to play a startling show, and then being asked out by your crush, who had just put his jacket around your shoulders and was concerned about your well-being. It was a little too much right now.
He looked timidly at Eames, because this was the moment, where the dream would collapse or where everything turned absolutely awful. Maybe he would stand here naked or Eames would start laughing and everyone from school was suddenly here to point their fingers at him or …
"Arthur?" Eames' voice seemed to come from afar. "I totally understand, if you don't want to … really. I just tried to ask you this for a while now, but I never had the balls to, because you're intimidating perfect, you know …"
Eames gave a little helpless laugh and then turned silent. They stared at each other for a moment and Arthur could only hear his own heart's thumping in his ears.
"Ok, alright", muttered Eames suddenly. He turned around and trotted back to his motorbike with slumped shoulders.
Arthur finally woke up from his daze. He tried to yell, but of course couldn't, so he stumbled over his own feet after Eames and caught him at the elbow. Eames looked over his shoulder, but didn't turn around fully. Arthur searched hectically for his mobile. As he finally found it, he nearly dropped it, but managed to type.
punch me
Eames read the text and frowned. "If you're really that disgusted being asked out by a guy, then you really should learn not to take yourself so goddamn serious, because –"
Arthur shook his head frantically and typed again.
this has to be a dream so just wake me up before I rouse with a heavy heart
Arthur winced a bit at how lyric-like this sounded, but he had already shoved the phone in Eames' face.
Eames turned around fully to glance from the screen to Arthur and back again. He slowly raised his eyebrows and his lips parted a bit and fuck, did he have any idea how sexy he looked? Arthur bit his lip unconsciously and waited for a snort or a pitiful look. Instead, Eames' lips stretched slowly in one of the most beautiful smiles Arthur had ever seen him wearing.
"You honestly think I'm not serious? Arthur, darling, I've tried to work up the courage to ask you this question a thousand times and you think I'm kidding with you? I would never dare to."
Arthur frowned. A thousand times? And how many times more had he completely ignored Arthur?
do you remember seeing me at mimi's party?
Eames took a deep breath. "Ok, I actually hadn't planned to tell you this now, because I think I owe you the whole story, but I refuse to let you stand out here any longer than necessary. But just to let you know: yes, I did, and yes, I wanted to talk to you then, but I lost it. I'm quite a coward."
Eames scratched again the back of his head, but smiled shyly at Arthur. "Have I passed the test and convinced you to some coffee with me?"
Arthur tried to hide his own smile as he typed an answer.
"I love seeing your dimples", breathed Eames suddenly.
Arthur almost dropped the phone again. All his breath went out in one rush as he looked into Eames' eyes that were shimmering softly in the half-light of the parking lot. Eames locked eyes with him and Arthur felt dizzy just from the proximity of their bodies. They weren't touching, but close enough to feel the body warmth of the other. Eames' eyes quickly darted from Arthur's eyes to his mouth and back. Arthur's own vision zoomed in on Eames' full lips that he had dreamt so often about. He found himself panting as if he would run a marathon and Eames was so much closer now –
Bright laughter suddenly flooded over the parking lot. Arthur jumped and blinked his eyes open. He couldn't remember when he had closed them. Eames looked similarly startled, then he ducked his head and chuckled.
People were passing them by, talking ambitiously.
"Sorry, that was imperfect timing", whispered Eames. "Can I see your answer?"
Arthur nodded and watched mesmerized as Eames reached for his hand in which he had clutched his phone, and pulled it up to read the text.
starbucks doesn't count as coffee
"I wouldn't think of it in my wildest dreams. Fancy a ride home?", asked Eames grinning broadly.
Arthur didn't bother to write this time. He guessed the equal grin on his face was answer enough.