Warning; alternate universe, supernatural, teen! Arthur, notreallysortakinda angst?
Disclaimer; when Arthur doesn't want specificity.
Author's Notes; I can't even— asdfghjkl— all your reviews were the best birthday present ever! Thank you all ... good God, all sixteen of you! :D Anyways, aside from that. I'm not sure what a waiter does completely aside from the things I learned when I was child and normal inspections. Correct me if I'm wrong.
Arthur was still experiencing shock, even though a good five minutes had passed, and he had only driven down the road and parked a street over. It was nearing night, but Arthur could really care less. His forehead was planted on the steering wheel, his foot off the gas pedal, but the engines continued to run. He breathed in and out, allowing oxygen to cycle through and let him relax. It didn't help much, but Eames, sitting in the passenger side, massaging his back, gave him a sense of relaxation.
He was thankful to the fact that he had gotten Eames out of the mirror and dragged him along, but he just wasn't as happy about it like he should be. It was clearly because he had just been kicked out that made his mood foul. But that was what his father wanted; Arthur was determined to prove him wrong and rub it in his face years later— He would become someone famous and accepting, and his father would end up working for him. Or something.
But Arthur couldn't think that cruel of his father. He just wished illness or something along those lines upon the older man, but that was it.
For now, he didn't even want to think about his father. He had school to consider, but most importantly, where the hell he and Eames were going to stay for the time being until Arthur could find a job and afford an apartment.
He let out another deep breath and sat up, rubbing his forehead a bit. Eames' hand removed from his back to cup his chin.
"You okay?" the Englishman questioned.
Arthur couldn't meet the light brunet's gaze, so he simply nodded slightly. "Fine," he mustered.
Eames didn't seemed a lot satisfied with the answer since he turned Arthur to face him. Arthur tried to avoid looking, but in the end, he gave in and glanced up to see the other's face. Eames wasn't smiling; his expressions weren't warm, either. Arthur wasn't sure what it was, but it didn't matter once Eames leaned over and kissed his lips softly.
Their mouth's lingered after one movement against each other. Arthur breathed, his eyes half-lidded, lips stick stuck on Eames'. He couldn't find the muse to kiss back, so he drew away and looked at the road.
"We need to find shelter," he stated.
Beside him, Eames shifted back to his original position. "Mal's?"
Arthur considered, then decided to along with it. "Yeah, Mal would do." Drawing out his cellphone, he dialed her number and placed it against his ear. He was impatient when hearing the familiar driiing driiing; he was also still shaken, so that didn't help much either.
Luckily, he had Eames.
"We'll be fine," the Englishman murmured, thumbing the stray tear that dared escape the corner of Arthur's eye. "We're getting through this together."
The young student nodded jerkily, trying to comprehend the words, but how could he? Eames didn't understand; his parents didn't kick him out of the house.
But at least he was trying to help. That alone made Arthur feel a bit better— he should be glad that he wasn't by himself.
"Hello?"
Finally, Mal picked up.
Arthur opened his mouth to explain, but there were so many words rushing through his mind. What should he tell her first? The good news or the bad news? Should he even be asking her for a place to stay? She looked intimidating on a normal basis when she wasn't smiling— but she was the only one that understood why he was dragging Eames along everywhere. She was the only help he could get.
"It's Arthur," he started, noting that his voice was still shaken a bit. He cleared his throat and tried again. "I'm in a bit of a situation, and I ... need a favor."
"I'm all ears."
He hesitated and glanced in Eames' direction. The light brunet gave him a very small, encouraging smile. Arthur resumed talking.
"I got Eames out of the mirror."
"Wha—"
"And I was caught ... in a position with him that my father disapproved of, so at the moment, I'm— we're homeless."
Mal fell silent for a bit before requesting a word with Eames. Somewhat glad but reluctant, Arthur handed the phone to the Englishman. For the next ten minutes, he watched and listened as Eames greeted and had a conversation including many chuckles and smiles. Here, Arthur was sitting, hands gripped on the steering wheel, waiting for an answer, and Eames was being completely inconsiderate. They needed to get out of the road before the sun set, and Eames was laughing at something Mal said.
Arthur threw the man a glare, issuing him to hurry up and give him an answer. Eames caught his gaze a few seconds later and finally asked Mal if it was okay to say. By the looks of his grin, she said yes.
"She said yes," Eames reported, beaming at him.
Arthur felt a flutter in his stomach at the crooked smile, but made nothing of it. "Ask her what her address is."
After the address was recited to him, Arthur put the car into drive and drove his way to said house.
Mal greeted them as if they had just returned home from a long trip. She ushered them in and introduced them to her father, who also had a warm welcome. They were then taken to the guest room, where Eames claimed that he'll take the armchair and Arthur could have the bed. Though Arthur wanted to argue, he didn't. He simply set his bags down and seated himself on the edge of the bed.
Not too far away, Mal threw her arms around Eames, and the other embraced her back. They spoke to each other in hushed whispers that Arthur hear. Not that he cared; he had other things to dwell over than the fact that Eames and Mal were reuniting as best friends.
He climbed towards the center of the bed and plopped down. Eyes then turned to the ceiling. He couldn't believe his fortune and misfortune; he was kicked out, but got Eames out of the mirror. He should be bursting with glee at the moment, but he didn't have the energy to do anything like that. So he laid there, thinking.
Was it worth it? He just threw his entire future away. His chance of being successful was cut in half, if not more. His father probably had the thought to disown him, making it so that he wasn't Arthur Irvings anymore. He was just Arthur— there was no identity.
He rolled to his side and closed his eyes. It wasn't worth it. He could have finished high school, university, and found a job. Now, he was living off with two thousand dollars and in someone else's house. Not to mention, Eames was with him as well. He doubt that Mal or Mal's father would be happy if they stuck around for a long time. He would need to find a suitable apartment and a job. He—
"Eames." It wasn't a greeting but more of a surprised comment when he felt a hand on his shoulder and the bed shifting.
"You're thinking too much, darling."
He felt an arm drape across his waist.
Arthur heaved a sigh and allowed the Englishman to spoon him.
"I need to find a job," the young teen murmured.
"I'll work too," Eames mumbled against his back. "We'll pull through this, love."
Arthur exhaled shakily before twisting his head to peer over his shoulder at the other. The sight of Eames brought a soft smile to his lips.
Eames brushed his fingers against the student's cheek before tilting it up slightly. Arthur's eyes fluttered close as lips were descended onto his own.
It still felt amazing to kiss Eames even though he knew better. He should be mad at Eames. The other was the sole reason why he got kicked out, or at least, that's what Arthur thought. But at the moment, he didn't care. He shifted to his back and kissed with much eagerness.
The kiss ended too quickly, though, when Eames pulled away and sat up. Arthur only shifted slightly to look at Mal, who had entered without knocking (their door was opened).
"Are you two hungry?"
Eames patted his stomach and grinned. "Food would be lovely."
Mal nodded and dismissed herself from the room, but only after giving them a pointed look.
"Speaking of which, I need to take a piss." Winking at Arthur, Eames slid off the mattress and stepped into the bathroom.
Arthur tried not to look, because Eames didn't completely close the bathroom door, but he gave into his temptation and tried to get a peek by leaning to the side slightly. He saw nothing, but didn't want to press it.
Shifting back, he waited for the other to finish.
Eames dismissed himself from the bathroom ten seconds later. "Peeking is against the law," came the English drawl as the older man came closer and leaned over.
The temperature began to rise in Arthur's cheeks. "I was not peeking."
Eames chuckled softly and ran a hand down Arthur's chest before fisting the fabric. "Don't worry, darling, I don't mind." These words were murmured against the student's lips.
Something flared within Arthur— it was a hot feeling around his stomach, matching with his pounding heart.
And then Eames pulled away, smirking slightly.
"Tease," Arthur huffed, reaching out and grabbing Eames' collar. He dragged the Englishman closer to him and brushed their lips against each other once more.
"I know," the other mumbled, grinning before pressing into the touch.
Arthur found himself smiling as he kissed back. His lips slid against the opposing one's, his tongue shyly touching Eames' own. He never had kissing lessons before, nor had he watched the action— but it came easily to him.
Arthur's hands slid from Eames' shirt to his shoulder, pulling him closer. Eames pressed against him, pushing him onto the bed so that he could clamber on top. Their kiss never broke, but instead, grew needy. Hands roamed. Breaths came in gasps. Arthur slipped his fingers down Eames' back, untucking the shirt. On the other hand, the Englishman was busy unbuttoning Arthur's shirt.
When the cold digits met his hot skin, Arthur pulled away from the kiss with a soft gasp. Eames' fingers were far too cold, but he adapted quickly. Trembling under the touch, he leaned up and captured Eames' mouth once more. His heart continued to soar as the kiss was returned. It wasn't before long that Eames' hand trailed down his body and traced the waistline on his pants by hooking his fingers in and taunting him.
And then, it all stopped.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" the Englishman questioned a breath away.
Arthur gazed up to the startling oceanic eyes. "You would have been dead if I didn't want this."
Eames' lips stretched into a wide smile. "Is that a challenge?"
Arthur scowled and groped Eames through his pants. Eames' breath hitched.
"Touch me," Arthur demanded, drawing his hand away.
Eames pecked him on the lips. "Where?"
"You know where," the dark brunet responded, sniffing.
"Do I?" Eames' hand fell to his hip. "Here?"
Arthur shook his head. "Lower."
"Mm," hummed the other. "Lower as you command." Eames slipped his hand to the waist band.
"Lower."
Eames' hand landed on his knee.
Arthur, frustrated, grabbed the Englishman's hand and placed it over his crotch. "It's not hard to miss," Arthur hissed.
Eames fondled him lightly. "Patience, my love."
The younger of the two sneered faintly and bucked into the hand. "Hormones don't have patience."
"But you have control, no?" Eames met his eyes and smirked.
"Eames!" Arthur scowled. "If you don't—"
The rest of his words were cut off when a hand dipped into his pants and cupped him through his briefs.
Fucking tease.
"I will—"
"You will what?" Eames asked, fingering the fabric separating him from Arthur's skin.
"I'll—"
"Get your hands off him this instant!"
Arthur jumped a bit when Mal's voice echoed from the doorway. Eames, in response, slowly drew away from him.
"They invented knocking for a reason, dear."
She glared at them— or Eames, specifically. "They call it being courteous of the people who took you in."
Eames stood up and fixed himself. Arthur sat up and buttoned his shirt, his face flushed red.
"Well, thank you for that, darling. But you should have known what would happen with two horny men in one room and bed."
Arthur kicked the other, and Mal laughed. "Point given, Eames. I should just give you the couch in the living room."
"I'm perfectly content with the armchair in this room, thank you."
Arthur coughed and slid out of bed to finish smoothing out his clothes. "Which gives you a reason to watch me sleep." His gaze met the other's. "It's creepy."
Eames smiled easily at him. "But you're gorgeous—"
"It's creepy," Arthur repeated earnestly.
Eames narrowed his eyes a bit. "Fine, fine." Turning to Mal, Eames gestured at the air. "Mind you, but I'm starving."
"Dad's making dinner right now," she responded, switching her gaze from Eames to Arthur. "Don't mess around," she warned, narrowing her eyes at him before turning and disappearing around the corner.
Arthur continued to flush a delicate shade of red, but that only made Eames more tempted to slide his hand on Arthur's waist lower. Of course, though, the student swatted it away. Eames held both hands up in the air in surrender. "Hey, hey. You started it," he accused.
Arthur huffed. "You touched me first."
"You told me to—"
"After you began it."
Eames met his eyes and smirked. "But you liked it, no?"
Arthur didn't want to answer, so he simply turned away and took his attention to his belongings on the floor.
"We also need to get you some clothes," the dark brunet stated, glancing over his shoulder for a second. "Something less hideous."
Eames snorted and walked up beside him. "Your disapproval wounds me, darling."
Arthur gave him a look before drawing out a t-shirt. "Here. Try this." He handed the black shirt over.
Eames grabbed and held it up, then proceeded to strip himself from his current shirt.
Arthur found himself staring at the tone chest. When caught, he noticed the smirk on the other's lips before the t-shirt was slipped on.
"Mm, tight," Eames commented, standing up and flexing.
Arthur blinked.
The shirt was fitted perfectly with Eames' figure, clinging desperately to the muscles and chest area.
"But it'll do." He then took off the shirt and handed back to Arthur. This left him without a shirt, which made Arthur stare again.
Eames was definitely built. And just by looking at the man, his mouth began to water. But of course, he tried to keep himself from lunging forward.
So instead, Arthur searched his duffle bag again and drew out sweatpants. When he handed them over, he gave cautious instructions. "Try them on in the bathroom."
He knew that Eames knew why he had requested it, but Eames, being Eames, asked anyways. "Why should I? We're both guys." Another wink was thrown in his direction before the Englishman dropped his pants.
That bastard.
The sweatpants also seemed to hug the other's bottom half, but it fit. That was all that mattered for tonight.
"Is it uncomfortable?" he questioned, eyes scrolling up the body to the blue-green hues.
"Well, a bit. I use to sleep naked, see, but these are fine."
Arthur tried to shove the thought of a naked Eames sprawled out, sleeping on the mattress out of his head, but he found it hard since the other was simply joyous in removing his clothing and flaunting his body.
"Go take a shower," the young teen ordered, shoving the t-shirt and sweatpants into Eames' grasp.
"Will you be joining me, pet? We'll be saving gallons of water by showering together."
Arthur threw his shampoo bottle at the opposing male while desperately trying to calm the blush in his cheeks. "No."
Eames stuck out his bottom lip and pouted. Arthur willed himself not to fall for such. He merely glared at the other until the Britishman surrendered and headed off to the showers.
For the time in which Eames was taking the shower, the young male found the envelope that his mother gave to him. As he peered in, he came to account that there was two thousand in there and a note that read 'take care of yourself for a day or two.' He ripped up the piece of paper and tossed it into the trash can.
Ten minutes later, Mal peeked in. "Dinner's ready," she announced.
"Eames' in the shower," Arthur responded, nodding at the full bath connected to the guest room.
"How long has he been in there?"
"Thirty minutes, maybe." He shrugged slightly and got to his feet. "Do you need help with anything?" he asked, wanting at least to help with something so he didn't feel as guilty.
She shook her head and smiled. "Not that I can think of."
He nodded slightly. "I ... thank you for letting us stay at the last moment. I didn't know who else to call with Eames tagging along." Arthur seated himself on the edge of the bed. "I was ... shocked and afraid. I didn't know— I need to find a job, and buy—"
"Arthur," Mal started, sitting beside him and placing a hand on his shoulder. "I understand that it's traumatizing. And I'm happy to help. As for a job, I'm sure Dom has a waiter position open at his father's restaurant. I'll take you there tomorrow if you want."
He managed to smile a bit in her direction. "Thanks, Mal. I appreciate your existence."
While the brunette burst out laughing, Arthur grinned. When she finished laughing, she patted his shoulder, then drew her hand away.
"I'm heading off to see family this Monday, though."
The news hit him hard.
Arthur quickly became nervous once more. If Mal wasn't around, where would he find somewhere to live?
His eyes downcast.
"We'll be back on Friday. I'll try to set you up a place. Maybe Ari's— or a hotel room."
Arthur ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "It's alright, Mal. You've done plenty. I'll just get a room for three nights— or an apartment, if I can manage to get my hands on one."
"Don't sound hopeless." She jerked his chin in her direction so that he was facing her. "Listen to me, Arthur. You're going to get through this, and we will help you along the way. That's what friends do." She then let go of his cheek and embraced him. "I'm sorry," she mumbled.
Arthur felt the tears threatening his sights once more. He hugged back, burying his face in her shoulder.
But of course, their moment was disturbed by Eames, who decided to make a big show out of venturing out of the bathroom by announcing his arrival via addressing Mal.
"Are you trying to convert him into heterosexuality?" Eames demanded, nearing them both as they pulled away.
Arthur gave the other a pointed look while Mal smirked.
"Is it working?"
Arthur glanced over at the female. "Not exactly."
She laughed at that. "I'm not sure if I should call that a good or bad thing. But come on, the food's getting cold."
"I already ate," Arthur responded, getting back on his feet. "I need to take a shower."
"Are you sure? We have steak."
Arthur gave a firm nod.
"Alright, then. Leftovers are in the microwave if you feel hungry." Mal then left, leaving Eames back to stare Arthur.
The dark brunet blinked. "What?"
Eames broke into one of his smiles that made Arthur weak in the knees. "I love your hair messy." At the sound of the compliment, or sarcasm, in Arthur's case, the young teen quickly flattened his hair. Eames chuckled and leaned over to peck his cheek. "Come, darling, won't you join me for dinner?"
"I need a shower first."
Eames looked somewhat disappointed, but in the end, he nodded and they departed.
Arthur found himself in the shower moments later, warm water pouring down his back. His eyes were closed as he ran both hands through his wet locks while tilting his head back so that his lips would touch the pouring water. He's reminded of Eames' fluttered touches and kisses, and he shuddered.
The way Eames made him feel was odd— it was the feeling he had with Dom, but something more. He didn't have these feelings at first, which made him wonder if it was possible to develop said emotions within a few weeks. He wasn't entirely sure— he didn't even know if he ... liked Eames in that manner. He loved the touches, the kisses, the warming words, but did he like the Englishman? Did he want I try at a relationship? That question went unanswered as he drew himself from the shower and dressed into his other pair of shirt and sweatpants.
As he exited, the bedroom was vacant. Arthur considered staying, but at the last moment, he decided it was more polite to face the man of the house.
Mal's father, who insisted for Arthur to call him Ray (short for Raymond), greeted him by giving him a nod. Arthur thought the actions of this man and his so-called father were similar, but he kept his mouth sealed. He just hoped that Ray wasn't like his father.
Eames, who was nothing like either of them, was sitting beside him, scarfing down food as if he hadn't eaten in, well, six or seven years.
As Arthur sat in the seat opposite of Ray, he was offered food, but declined with a small thankful smile.
Eames pushed a fork with a piece of steak in his direction, but the young teen shook his head. The steak ended up in the Englishman's mouth seconds later.
There wasn't much conversation at the table; Mal approached the topic about them needing a job, and Ray piped up about Dom's restaurant, Ari's cafe, or maybe an assistant at the local library. Arthur liked the idea of working at the library, but he doubt Eames could hold his peace and stay quiet for a couple of hours.
On the other hand, Yusuf worked at Ariadne's cafe. But Arthur knew he couldn't keep Eames and Yusuf away; they, sooner or later, would meet since this was a small town, after all.
Working with Dom wasn't a bad idea. He actually much preferred it.
He didn't have much time to consider, though, since the other three finished with the table, and he offered to clean the dishes. He was turned down and chased to the guest room with Eames by his side to get ready for bed.
Arthur couldn't deny that he was sleepy, though. He needed to catch up on the sleep he had lost while pulling one or two all nighters. Eames wasn't making it easier for him, though. The other, even though the lights were off and they were both in their respective resting spot, was trying to get his attention by making little noises.
Frustrated at last, Arthur turned to the opposing figure. "What?"
From the stream of moonlight through the partly closed blinds, he could make out Eames grinning at him.
"Can I sleep in the bed with you? I'll fall asleep much faster."
Arthur's brows furrowed. "You can have the bed, and I'll take the armchair—"
"You misheard, love."
"The answer is no."
"Come on, Arthur. It's cold in this corner and there's a mirror I can see in the bathroom."
"Go to sleep, Eames," Arthur stressed before rolling back over to face the other side. He closed his eyes in attempt to go to sleep.
Luck wasn't on his side. Minutes later, his ears perked to the sound of footsteps, and before he could say anything, another weight was added onto the mattress.
"Eames," Arthur hissed, sitting up and watching Eames get under the covers.
"Oh, come, pet. You know I can't stay away."
"You were a few meters away in the arm—"
"I like it here better."
Arthur pushed the covers off himself. "Then I'm taking the armchair."
Eames immediately grabbed his arm. "Arthur," he said, eyes staring, expression not showing his goofy side anymore. The serious look given made Arthur succumb. He pulled the covers back and cautiously laid down.
Eames smiled and laid a hand over Arthur's stomach, pulling him in.
"I am not cuddling," the student stated.
Eames merely chuckled and trailed the hand to Arthur's cheek. "Go to sleep, darling," he murmured before drawing his fingers away.
Arthur honestly tried to sleep, but it was hard to with Eames only a few inches away.
His thoughts ran mercilessly about the day's event. The idea of his father made him sick in the stomach. Again, he quickly became foul at that single thought. He understood that his father was strict and business, much like himself at first, but kicking him out of the house— now his father wouldn't have someone to pass on the name and such. Not that Arthur could pass on the name if he weren't kicked out, anyways. But still, he was kicked out for a reason that was absolutely ridiculous. His father was just that cold-hearted.
His mother, on the hand, was stupid, and Arthur could say that bluntly. She was the sole reason why his father found out, so technically it was her fault. He only pushed the limit by being caught with Eames.
That was stupid of him as well. He knew that his father was angry at him; he also knew that it was possible for his father to break into his room, but he ended up on the bed with Eames anyways. He couldn't help it at the time, though. He was desperate to get Eames out, then the returned kiss caught him off guard and led to them making out.
Arthur exhaled slowly and batted the thought away. He was thinking far too much if he wanted to sleep. But unfortunately, sleep wasn't given to him. Eames, at one point, laid a hand over his waist and drew closer so that Arthur could feel the Englishman's light breathing on his back.
"Are you alright?" Eames murmured.
"Yeah," Arthur croaked.
Eames sighed and backed away so that he could turn Arthur around. Once on his back, the young teen's eyes opened and glanced to his left.
"I'm fine," he assured.
"You can talk to me," Eames responded, eyes searching Arthur's own. "I'll always be here for you, Arthur."
The student turned to his side so that he wasn't facing Eames anymore.
"Go to sleep," he repeated.
For a few seconds, Arthur thought that Eames had complied, but that wasn't so. Eames touched his shoulder, then slid his hand down to grasp Arthur's.
"If it's bothering you, it helps to talk it out. You always did when I was in the mirror. What's the difference?"
The fingers strung into his loosely.
Arthur turned to his other side in order to face Eames. "My father," he began rather hesitantly, "is an asshole."
"And a bastard."
"That too."
"You don't need someone like you in your life."
Eames was close enough so that their conversations were in whispers.
"I know. It's just ... he's my biological father—"
"It doesn't matter. If he makes you upset and kicked you out, then that's not a father."
Arthur huffed and began to turn back, but Eames grabbed his arm with his other hand, locking him in place.
"I don't want to go back, Arthur."
"We're not going back."
"I don't want you trying to communicate with him either, unless he apologizes first. I don't like him, if you haven't noticed."
"I've noticed, but whether or not I communicate with him is my business."
Eames frowned slightly. "I don't want you to be hurt."
"I'm seventeen," Arthur mumbled.
"It doesn't matter how old you are. I care about you."
Arthur sighed and closed his eyes. "I just want to forget."
Eames shifted closer. "Think about me, then."
When Arthur opened his eyes, he was staring straight into Eames' eyes.
"I don't know how I feel about you. It's all confusing."
Eames' orbs were searching his, and Arthur wasn't sure what he would find.
"I know exactly how I feel about you," came the answer seconds later. "I've never felt this strong for someone— this protective, this caring."
Arthur became nervous once more.
Eames continued. "I want the best for you, Arthur. You're my everything, now."
Arthur closed his eyes and ducked his head slightly. He didn't know what to say. He was never that good at expression emotions, especially if he had no clue about them.
The subject bothered him. Relationships or anything related to partnership didn't strike him as an easy talk.
And Eames wasn't helping by whispering more words. "I always thought of this— finally being able to hold you."
The sappiness was really getting Arthur. He crinkled his nose a bit. "Please stop," he requested.
"Talking?"
"Yes, stop talking."
There was a low hum in response, then the final, or hopefully final, words were spoken. "G'night."
"Good night."
Eames shifted closer, arms around the young figure, before stilling. Arthur, this time, found himself insane with the need of sleep. He shortly fell into a deep slumber.
— ox — xo —
By noon, Arthur was already dressed and ready to head over to the restaurant Dom's family owned. It was only then did Eames rise from bed and kissed him good morning (which was actually afternoon). While Eames got ready and stuffed food into his mouth, Arthur shared a look with Mal.
It was nearly one when they left the house and piled into Mal's car.
"So, who's place are we going to again?" Eames questioned, leaning forward in between Arthur and Mal.
"Paliroma," Mal answered, turning into the place.
"Sounds Italian," the Englishman commented before sliding out of the car.
Arthur pushed his car door open and got out.
"It's variety," Mal informed, smiling at them both before entering and gesturing them to follow.
Arthur tailed her in and glanced around. The restaurant wasn't one of the super fancy sorts, but it was big and the decorations looked nice. He shifted over as Mal greeted the greeter in return. After the simple how are you doings and fines, she requested for Dom. They were then taken to the side in order to clear the entrance way.
It wasn't long before Dom stepped out and kissed Mal hello. When he turned to Arthur and smiled, Arthur found his frown fading and his heart picking up pace. He smiled back. Beside him, Eames didn't seem all that friendly. He stiffened and lightly placed an arm around Arthur's waist, pulling the dark brunet closer to him by a few inches.
Dom blinked at the action for a moment before clasping his hands together and drawing his gaze back to Mal. "Father only has a waiter spot open," Arthur heard Dom murmur over.
Mal's brows drew together a bit. "I'm not sure if they're willing to be—" She cut off her own words and turned to Arthur. "How about it? The shift is five hours long and the pay's eight an hour."
Forty dollars a day, about three hundred a week. Which meant a little bit more than a thousand each month. That worked with him.
"Sounds good to me," Arthur responded, grinning.
The arm tightened around his waist.
"Fantastic! I'll have father know. Do you know anything about serving?"
Arthur glanced around. "Just what they usually do, right?"
"It's not as simple. When can you start?"
"Tomorrow, or today, if you prefer." He had nothing else to do, anyways.
"Tomorrow's best. I'll have to teach you the basics first. Are you busy now?"
Arthur shook his head and proceeded to brush Eames' arm away.
"Alright. Give me a moment to tell my parents. " Excusing himself, Dom left the circle.
Immediately after the blond was out of hearing, Eames turned to him. "I don't like him," he stated bluntly.
"You don't need to be around," Arthur replied.
Eames' face darkened, but he said nothing.
Mal, who listened in for the briefest moment, glanced between them before making her request. "A word, Eames." The light brunet met Arthur's gaze for another moment before being led aside by Mal.
This left Arthur alone, unsure of what to do. He awkwardly stood, peering around. Mal and Eames were standing to the side of the restaurant, Mal mumbling something to Eames. In response, the Englishman's lips pressed together. He wasn't all that happy, from what Arthur inspected. His gaze switched elsewhere to observe the waiters and waitresses about. They weren't anybody he recognized, but they all seem pretty friendly with their smiles. The atmosphere felt nice as well; this was a suitable place to work until he graduated and find a better job.
"Arthur!"
At the sound of his name, his attention snapped over to the blond athlete. "Yes?"
Dom beckoned him over. Arthur glanced over to where Mal and Eames stood, but seeing that they were in a hushed argument, he didn't bother. Turning back to Dom, he headed over.
"This is Ryan," the athlete introduced, presenting a redheaded male who smiled at him a bit. "He has the day shift, so you won't be seeing him often. But he's free to teach you a few things now." Patting his shoulder, Dom left the two alone.
Arthur took a good look at the opposing figure be was stuck with. Ryan appeared in be in his mid-twenties. His hair was a vibrant red; his eyes were a startling green. He stood a few inches taller than Arthur, but weight wise, they probably were the same. When he smiled, he flaunted braces, making Arthur think that he was in his late teens.
"Arthur, yeah?" he started, gesturing him to follow.
Arthur nodded.
"Alright, Artie." Good God, did everyone think that that was a suitable nickname for him?
"The night shift starts at four and ends at nine. The uniform is just a white button up and black slacks. What you're wearing right now." Ryan took him to an empty table.
"The guests go to the tables to themselves. You'll be taking over my area when I'm off from the day shift. Lucky you; you have four tables to take care of." The redhead gestured at the four tables around him.
"If a customer sits in your area, greet them, introduce yourself, and give them the menu. Make sure to smile. Ask for what drinks they want. Make sure to wait a minute more before you bring them their drinks so that they have time to look over the menu." Ryan then drew out a small notepad.
"You'll need a pocket notepad. You can use mine for tomorrow if you can't get one by then. Just make sure to give it to Dom after you're done with your shift, yeah?" The taller male smiled at him once more. "Am I going too fast?"
Arthur shook his head.
"Good," Ryan responded, clasping his hands together. "Moving on. When you return the drinks, ask them if they are ready to order. If not, give them five more minutes, but don't stand around waiting. Do something else. After they order, say you'll be back with the food shortly. When you serve them, don't mess up. Check up on them every fifteen minutes to make sure if they want refills or not. If they haven't asked for the check within an hour of arrival, just give it to them. They will pay up front. Thank them for coming as well. And don't forget to collect tip if they left you any." Ryan lowered his arms and turned back to the young student.
"For cleaning up, clear all the dishes from the table and bring them to the back. The dish cleaners would take care of the excess trash and whatnot. Wipe the table last, but make sure you wash the cloth first. That and the sink to wash them are located in the back. And that's basically it. If you need any more help, just ask a waiter or waitress, yeah?"
Arthur nodded, understanding.
"You got all that?"
Again, the dark brunet nodded.
Ryan patted his shoulder much like Dom did. "You're a quick learner. Chey took forever. She's a night shift too. Pretty chick. I'm sure you'll like her." Ryan winked at him before handing him a menu. "You might want to study that just in case the customers describe something to you."
Arthur took the menu and thumbed through the two pages. When he glanced back up, he managed a small smile. "Thanks."
"Not at all. I have to get back to work. See you tomorrow, yeah?"
"Tomorrow," Arthur agreed before Ryan gave him a smile and ushered to one of the occupied tables.
Tucking the menu under his arm, he returned to Mal and Eames. By now, the two were done bickering, but Eames still wasn't smiling. That bothered Arthur a bit, but he waved it off temporarily when Mal asked him if he was ready to go.
"Yeah, let's go."
As Mal said farewell to the workers, Arthur turned to Eames. "What's wrong with you?"
Eames turned and looked at him— well, it wasn't exactly looking; it was more like glaring. Arthur's mouth ran dry as he locked gazes with the cold eyes.
"Nothing," he replied briskly before ushering out of the restaurant and into Mal's car.
After saying farewell to the greeter, Arthur got into the car as well. Mal followed him a second later.
"Eames," she called out, somewhat in a warning tone.
The Englishman leaned forward. "You called?" he answered in a familiar drawl.
"Don't forget what I told you."
Eames flashed a grin. "Of course." He then slithered back to lean against the car seat.
Arthur quirked a brow, asking what they were talking about, but neither of them answered.
When arriving back in the guest room, Arthur closed the door behind them, shutting him and Eames in.
"What did Mal say?" he demanded.
Eames blinked at him. "Oh. Nothing." To prove his point, he beamed.
Arthur didn't trust the smile, though. Even if there was a smile, the oceanic eyes were cold. Arthur narrowed his eyes a bit. "Is it about Dom?"
The smile immediately dropped.
Arthur knew it.
"Dom won't make a move," the young brunet inquired.
"It's not him," Eames murmured, drawing close and cupping how face. "It's you."
Arthur frowned, and the other continued.
"Do you still fancy him?"
"No ... no." There was slight hesitation in his voice, and Eames seemed to have caught it.
The hands cupping his face slid away. "You're not convincing, Arthur." The tone bit him. Eames definitely wasn't pleased.
"It doesn't matter, Eames. He's straight."
The Englishman's lips curled into a slight sneer. "You don't understand."
"I understand perfectly."
Eames turned away and ran a hand through his hair. "You liked him once. You can like him again. And this time, it could be stronger."
"I'm not stupid, Eames."
"Love makes you do stupid things."
"I've realized."
Eames glanced at him. "What am I to you?" he whispered.
Arthur kept his mouth shut. Again, he didn't know what to say. When he continued to not respond, Eames let out a frustrated scowl.
"You still like him."
Arthur quickly came to his own defense. "I'm over him."
"So, it's just that you don't feel the same about me, hm?"
Arthur licked his lips and dropped his gaze.
"Dammit, Arthur. I'm just a toy to you. A getaway, am I?"
"No—" He closed his eyes and let out a breath. "I'm confused."
"About your sexuality?"
"No— about whether I like you ... or not."
"Fantastic." Sarcasm dripped out of that spat out word.
"Give me time. I'm trying to cope with everything, and you're making it harder for me."
"Am I?"
"Yes, you are."
"Well, you didn't have to bring me along. You could have left me behind. I much prefer it than have my heart broken, mended, then broken again."
"Eames!"
"I'm sorry that I'm selfish, Arthur. I can't help the jealousy. I want us to be together."
"You wanted me to be happy, and I'll be happy if you drop this subject." Arthur hissed, glaring.
Eames took out a breath. "Okay. Alright. Fine. We're done talking."
Without further ado, Eames passed him and strolled out of the bedroom.
— ox — xo —
Arthur felt rather lonely in bed alone that night. He found himself missing the Englishman's touch. He couldn't sleep either with Eames apparently angry at him for something that he thought wasn't wrong at all. He needed a job, and Dom's restaurant offered a good pay and night shift. It wasn't like he was there for any reason outside of doing the job and earning money.
Arthur sighed and kicked the covers of the body. He shoved the thought out of his head to the best of his ability, but five minutes later, he found himself on his feet and exploring the dark house. He wasn't entirely sure where Eames was sleeping, but he was near positive that it was on the couch. From the sound of the light snores, it seemed so.
Tiptoeing over, he peered down at the slumbering figure. In the moonlight, Eames appeared peaceful. And Arthur was going to be a bastard and destroy that peace.
Lacing his hand in Eames' own, he leaned down slightly. "Eames?" he called out softly.
The opposing male grunted, but opened his eyes anyways. "Arthur?" he mumbled.
Arthur tugged on the hand a bit. "Come back to bed."
Eames exhaled and closed his eyes. "`m tired," he groaned.
"I can't sleep," Arthur whispered in response.
The eyes reopened. Eames seemed to be drifting in and out of sleep before getting onto his feet and, with Arthur's help, ambling to the guest room.
Once in, Eames toppled onto the bed, making it so that Arthur had to adjust him into a vertical position. Once that was completed, the student climbed in next to him and pulled the covers over them.
Some sort of relief flushed over him as he rolled to his side and watched Eames' sleeping face. It was back to peacefulness.
But said peacefulness lasted only for two minutes, since Eames spoke.
"You're being creepy, darling."
Arthur smiled and buried his head in the other's man chest. Above him, Eames shifted and kissed his forehead before wrapping his arms around the fragile figure.
"`m sorry," came the apology five minutes after.
And Arthur fell asleep with a smile.
— ox — xo —
"How do I look?" Arthur questioned, stepping out of the bathroom dressed in the usual button up and slacks, which was now his uniform for his job.
Eames, sitting on the bed, smile faintly. "Positively ravishing."
Arthur stepped back into the mirror and checked himself out once more. His shirt was tucked in and his hair was slicked back— it was exactly the sort of appearance his father approved of. Arthur frowned at the returned subject, but quickly waved it off. He then dismissed himself from the bathroom.
"What time is it?" he called out as he put his tie on.
"3:30, sharp."
"Shit," Arthur mumbled, walking over and grabbing his car keys. "I'll see you in a few—"
"Oh, now. I'll be there too. I would get bored if I have to stay here alone for five hours."
Arthur gave the other a pointed look. "I don't think Dom would be happy if you took up one table for five hours."
"But—"
"I'll be back soon."
Eames sighed and stood up. "I can't be with you?"
"Not when I have work," Arthur answered sharply as the Englishman touched his cheek.
"Do I get a kiss?"
Arthur narrowed his gaze upon the other, but in the end, gave in, and pecked the light brunet's lips.
"I've had better kisses from you than that," Eames commented.
"I need to go," Arthur replied.
After giving the Englishman a soft smile, the young teen hastily made his way out of the house.
He arrived ten minutes before four, much to his relief. As he entered, he peered around. There weren't a lot of people, considering that it was Sunday. This made it easier to navigate to Ryan, who was finished with clearing a table.
"Hey," he greeted, watching as the other draw up.
The redhead glanced in his direction and beamed. "Sup, Artie? You're just in time. Here's my notepad."
Arthur accepted the small green notebook and flipped to a clean page.
"Any questions?"
He shook his head, like yesterday.
"Alright, good. Now, the waiters for night shift— that's Cheyenne. You'll really like her."
At the sight of the blond female, the corner of Arthur's mouth twitched. Though he didn't have much to do with her, she was still not someone he wanted to be around.
"That's Kendell, my lil' bro. He's a pain in the ass, though. Don't talk to him unless you want a three hour long conversation."
Arthur peered over at another redheaded waiter who seemed to be babbling away and making one table laugh.
"And the other is Adrian. He's a pretty cool guy. You should ask him the questions if you're afraid to ask Cheyenne." Ryan nudged him slightly and winked.
Arthur didn't feel the nudge; his eyes were strayed on a particular soccer player that was just entering the restaurant decked out in a button up and slacks. All of the sudden, he wanted to quit. If he had known that Adrian worked here, he wouldn't have accepted the job. But there was no point in turning back and plus, he needed the money.
Playing it off, Arthur gave a curt nod.
"Think you're good to go." With a final grin, Ryan turned and said farewells to everyone before heading out.
His stomach was fluttering and not for a good reason. He felt nervous, and so stood to the side and watched as the three others worked the tables. They were all smiling, introducing themselves before handing out menus. He was definitely not cut out for this. Maybe quitting was the best idea— but he wasn't a quitter. Holding himself in a straightened position, he watched as a couple entered and seated themselves at one of his tables. After a relaxing exhale, Arthur ventures over with two menus and the manageable smile upon his lips.
"Good afternoon. My name is Arthur, and I'll be your waiter for today." He inwardly applauded himself for not stumbling over the words like he imagined. Placing the menus down, he continued. "What do you want for your drinks?"
The man, appearing in his early forties, peered down at the menu. "Coke." Arthur turned to the woman. "Sweet tea, no ice."
"Alright. I'll be back with your drinks in a few moments."
Arthur was glad to get away; he could feel his fingers trembling. He dismissed himself to the drinks station before glancing around for cups. They weren't in sight.
He blinked.
Well, that was just fantastic.
"They're in the cabinets," came a voice beside him.
Arthur glanced over to the short female as she opened said cabinet and pulled out three cups.
"The dark red ones are for anything but water. The clear ones are for water. The smaller ones are for children." As she informed him of this, she filled her orders of drinks.
"Fill the ice up to three-fourths and the drink up until there's a centimeter left of the cup." She demonstrated it by showing him how it was supposed to look like.
"Straws are in here." She took out three before picking up the drink and casting him a very small smile.
"Welcome to the club," she said before moving away.
Arthur finally relaxed his tensed state.
So far, Cheyenne wasn't that bad. That was good.
What wasn't good was the next person that graced him with his presence. As Arthur removed two adult cups from the cabinet, his ears perked to footsteps. When he was filling one cup with ice, he glanced over.
Adrian removed four from the cabinet without a look in his direction. He then proceeded to take over the soda stand, leaving it so Arthur had to fill the sweet tea first. As Arthur moved back, Adrian was done. He gathered the four cups, two in each hand, and then threw a look in Arthur's direction.
The other wasn't smirking; his expression was dead serious.
"Welcome to hell," Adrian said before moving away.