Inception - Quiet In My Town (6/6)

[osaki_nana_707]

Title: Quiet In My Town (6/6)
Author: osaki_nana_707
Word Count: 4,763
Pairings/Character: ArthurxEames, OC
Rating: NC-17 (this part)
Warnings: language, mentions of death, spoilers:discussions of sexual abuse, men having sex
Summary: When Arthur falls off the grid, Eames finds him taking care of a teenage boy that apparently is his brother.

6.

It was nearly dawn when Eames and Owen returned to the apartment. Eames had been unable to find a place open that he could buy Owen some clothes, so the boy was still damp and shivering a little when they got inside.

Arthur was awake.

Arthur was awake and looked like he hadn't slept at all. In fact, it appeared that he'd started to clean obsessively as if it could fix all the things that were muddled up on the inside, and Eames could bet that Arthur had had another nightmare.

"Honey, I'm home," Eames said, shutting the door behind him.

Arthur looked up from where he was crouched on the floor, and Eames saw that he had hands full of glass. He'd been picking up each broken piece of glass one by one.

"You're back… you came back…" Arthur said dazedly.

"Don't you have a bloody broom?" Eames asked, yanking Arthur up by the elbow and making him dump the handfuls of glass into the trash bin.

"Um… well…" Arthur stammered, still staring at Eames as if he could vanish into thin air at any moment.

"I broke it…" Owen said, "earlier… when we were fighting… I snapped it over my knee and threw it out the window."

Eames shook his head, rolling his eyes and took Owen's elbow as well, dragging them to the couch and forcing them to sit down. "You can clean later. Right now, both of you are going to sit here and talk. You're going to tell me what the fuck is going on, and I'm going to try to help you fix it."

Both of them started to object, but Eames silenced them by lifting his hands. He sat down on the coffee table rubbed his hands together and waited.

Nobody spoke, just stared awkwardly at each other.

"All right, I'll start," Eames said then. "Arthur, Owen thinks that you hate him. Do you?"

Arthur scoffed, turning to look at Owen, "Of course not! I don't—I mean, I know I can be kind of… kind of an asshole sometimes, but I don't hate you anymore than you hate me."

"You're wrong… because there is a part of me that does hate you."

Well, this was quickly going differently than Eames planned.

"Wh—but—" Arthur stammered, at a loss, and Owen sprung to life with anger.

"You… left me!" he shouted, jumping to his feet and pointing accusingly at him. "You left me there, and you never bothered to even think about me when you did! You just up and left!"

"I didn't have a choice!" Arthur exclaimed, standing also. "A sixteen-year-old traveling alone with a four-year-old? You really think we could have gotten anywhere if we'd gone together? I had to get out of there, and so I did—"

"YOU LEFT ME!" Owen shrieked, and his anger was quickly taking on a hint of hysteria. "You ran away like a fucking coward and left me there alone to bear the burden, and you don't expect me to be resentful?"

"I did what I had to—"

"He molested and raped me," Owen said darkly, and the whole room seemed to go cold. "He violated me every night. Every night. He beat the shit out of me every day… and all you can say is that 'you did what you had to'?"

There was a long moment of silence, Arthur gaping like a fish, Eames staring in horror.

"…I'm sorry," Arthur finally said, voice cracking. "You're right. You're right, okay?"

Owen shifted on his feet, lip trembling slightly. Arthur was looking positively devastated. Eames waited for whatever was going to happen, nervous and sickened by what had already been said.

"I was only sixteen," Arthur said, voice thick with un-cried tears. "I was scared… I ran away, and I was a coward, and I'm sorry… I should have come back for you, I know that… but… I was afraid of him. Even when I was a fucking adult, I couldn't stop thinking about what he was going to do to me if I went back—I—I know it's stupid but… Owen, he did all that shit to me too, okay? He—he would invite his fucking friends over to do it to me too, and when I tried to tell Mom she didn't believe me… or maybe she just chose not to because she liked the way her life was. I don't know. I really don't… but I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…"

Arthur sank back into his seat, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes as if he could shove all the tears threatening to free themselves back into his body. "My fears were so fucking irrational… there wasn't anything he could do, but every time I'd think about it—I'd just—fuck—I couldn't handle it—and I—"

"Stop," Owen said, and it looked like all of the anger had drained out of him. He looked defeated and exhausted. "I… I understand."

"I'm sorry, Owen. I'm so sorry… I didn't know back then that he was doing it to you too… God, I was… so fucking self-centered… How could I have—maybe I just didn't want to believe—Fuck! Now I sound just like Mom and—Jesus, no wonder you hate me!"

"I said stop," Owen complained, smacking him on the shoulder. "I get it, okay?"

"No… no, you don't, okay? You don't know… You don't know how much I fucking hate myself," Arthur said, looking up at him with an expression of shame. "Every morning I get up, and I'm forced to look in the mirror, and all I see is his face. His eyes and his hands… I don't even know what I look like, I guess…"

"You don't… you don't look like him at all," Owen said, and it sounded as if he had just come to the conclusion at that moment. "I mean… your eyes are the same color but… they're not the same. You don't look at me the same way that he did… I don't think you ever could."

"You at least got Mom's eyes," Arthur said quietly.

Eames sat there for a moment while both brothers just stared at each other, waiting for the other to say something. He had wanted to get everything out in the open and move forward, but now he really didn't know what to do. He was just stuck with an overwhelming amount of new information about two people he'd come to care about more than he thought was capable of himself. He was stuck knowing that these horrible things had happened to them, and there was absolutely nothing that he could do about it. He had expected something bad, but he had hoped for something he could fix or at least attempt to mend… but everything made sense. Owen's fear of his own body and his attacks at Arthur, Arthur's horrible self-image and iciness towards his parents, both of their bad people skills…

"I'm sorry for hitting you," Owen said.

"I'm… sorry I hit you too."

"No, ah—well, I said some really mean stuff. You don't deserve that. I'm the one who started it after all… I guess I just get defensive sometimes, and I'd like to tell you it won't happen again, but… you know, it probably will…"

"Yeah, I know," Arthur said, grabbing hold of Owen's hand.

"So… uh… are we cool?" Owen asked awkwardly. "At least until next time, I mean."

"Yeah…" Arthur said, tugging him by the wrist so he was sitting down next to him. "We're okay."

"Oh, and um…" Owen said, corners of his mouth twitching a little. "I'm really sorry for implying that you're the bottom when you—"

"Shut up!" Arthur laughed, smacking him on the back of the head. Owen snickered, pleased with himself.

Apparently, Eames didn't have to do anything after all.

Well, considering he'd been at a loss, that was a relief.

---

It was eight in the morning and Owen had just fallen asleep. Arthur was still cleaning up the mess, and Eames helped even though he was tired.

"It's not over yet, is it?" Eames asked as he folded a shirt and put it back in the laundry bin.

"I don't think it'll ever be over," Arthur said, scooting a chair underneath the recently righted table. "I think it's a step in the right direction that we both just came out with it though, I guess… Uh… thanks, I guess…"

"That's all I get for working my arse off in an attempt to mend your relationship with your brother? A 'thanks, I guess'? You are a miserable little twat," Eames teased.

Arthur huffed, but he was smiling a little, albeit a sleepy one. "Okay, fine… You have done a lot for us, and I really am eternally grateful. There, is that better? Should I pepper in a 'your majesty' or is that fine?"

Eames placed the basket of newly folded laundry onto the table. "That's fine," he said honestly. "You didn't even have to thank me, Arthur, because I chose to do all of this on my own."

"I know… and I think it's that fact that makes it so… worth being thankful…" he didn't look at Eames as he said it, instead choosing to pick any of the unbroken dishes up off of the floor and put them in the sink. "You didn't have to do any of that, but you did… and considering your history with all the other people in your past, it's a surprising result."

"I know I haven't been the most trustworthy person in the past," Eames shrugged, leaning against the counter, "but I haven't been the most trusting person either. I may be daft for thinking this, but if there is anyone in the business I know I can trust, it's you."

Arthur smirked a little, filling the sink with soapy water, "Well, duh, look at all the blackmail you have on me now. You know I can't swim and I get freaked out by Jack Nicholson—in movies or otherwise, he's just scary… You know I've been diddled by my Dad and still have nightmares about it even as an adult. You know I absolutely suck at being with people, and to top it all off I'm a coward. Oh, and let's not forget that you've fucked me up the ass. Twice. Why would I sell someone out who knows that much about me? That's a dangerous game that I'm certainly not willing to play."

"I trusted you before all that," Eames said rather than making a joke. "Well, maybe not before you and I—you know—but ah… I trusted you before I came here."

"Oh?... and why is that?" Arthur asked, trying to sound skeptical, but it just came out sounding vulnerable.

"Because you trust me."

"What makes you think I trust you?" Arthur asked, and his voice was even more exposed than before.

"Oh, I don't know," Eames said, pushing away from the counter to slowly approach the point man. "You let me inside even when you didn't want me here, and you let me stay and help you. You never once questioned if I was intending to sell you up the river. You let me see you in states I'm sure very few people have seen you in…" he planted his hands on Arthur's shoulders, making him jump a little at the sudden contact. "…and forgive me if I'm wrong, but I do believe I may be the only person who has ever seen you cry."

"…I… I didn't mean to just… break down like that," Arthur mumbled, and Eames kneaded his shoulders, feeling the tenseness there just start to melt away. "I don't want to look so weak…"

"It wasn't weakness," Eames said softly.

"It was… I lost control of myself. I don't like doing that."

"You can't control everything all the time, love. Sometimes it's okay to let other people take the wheel. There are people in your life who can pick up the slack."

"That didn't used to be true," Arthur said, voice shaky.

"I know how it is," Eames replied. "If you remember, I was quiet the pathetic little mess that night in Amsterdam, back when I thought I was all alone in the world."

"You think I pity-fucked you?" Arthur asked, placing a washed cup into the other side of the sink.

"Why else would you have—"

"I knew exactly what you were talking about," Arthur said, finally turning to make eye contact, forcing their bodies to be pressed flush against each other. He only took a moment to notice the position before he cleared his throat and continued, "I didn't even know why I felt so down all the time until you started talking about how alone you felt, and I realized that I felt… exactly the same way. I didn't have any idea that anyone else felt like I did… I didn't even realize how scared I was of even attempting to trust someone until then… and I guess I was disgusted with myself for letting what happened to me turn me into such a weakling… and you were being so… amazing in the fact that you could admit all of this stuff about yourself out loud when I couldn't even accept it on the inside."

"So… you fucked me because you were impressed?" Eames asked, unable to help the mischievous little grin that spread across his face. "That's not what I expected."

"I wanted to be braver… and bolder… and you know, alcohol and all that…"

"It had nothing to do with my good looks or my hand on your knee then?" Eames asked.

"It might have," Arthur admitted, blushing a little. "I was a little shocked when everything started happening because I didn't think someone like you would go for… someone like me."

"That's because you don't realize how beautiful you really are."

Arthur's blush deepened, and he averted his eyes, frowning. "You're so full of shit."

"So, what really happened in Germany then?" Eames asked then. "You had wanted us to be a one night stand, and when it turned out that we weren't, you distanced yourself."

"I—you—you kissed me, and I—I guess I lost control of myself again… I didn't want anyone to know I felt so alone, but you noticed it immediately, and I—uh… I don't know. I couldn't stop myself… When I realized what I'd done, I—I felt like such a fucking tool because I used you to make me feel less alone, and… you didn't deserve that because you were genuinely being nice to me, and I knew that you wouldn't do that for just anyone… so I tried to distance myself so I wouldn't hurt you."

"You weren't afraid of me then," Eames said, leaning in closer as if to remind Arthur of that night when he'd said as much.

"I kept thinking that I should have been… just because you were a man. I kept thinking that I shouldn't like what you would do to me, but… it's just that—God, I'm so embarrassed admitting this—it's just that you didn't hold me down or touch me harshly or force me to do anything… You ah—you showed me that getting fucked—it—it didn't always have to be like how he did…" his voice cracked at the end of the sentence, and he rolled his eyes, annoyed at himself. "Fuck, I can't believe I'm getting choked up over this shit. How pathetic am I? Fuck…"

Eames shook his head at him and pulled him into an embrace. Arthur shook beneath his fingers, but he held back on his tears by taking a few deep breaths.

"…I fucked you in Germany because I missed you…" Arthur admitted into the fabric of Eames's shirt.

"I fucked you in Germany because I'm in love with you," Eames replied lightly. "We all have our reasons, I suppose."

Arthur shoved away from him so that Eames could see the look of astonishment on his face, and Eames had expected such a response. "Wh—wh—what'd you say?" Arthur stammered.

Eames sighed as if he was dealing with a stubborn child. "I said that I love you, you clot. I fell in love with you that night in Amsterdam when you let me into your world, and I've been sinking further into this hole of ooey-gooey mush and feelings ever since. It's quite embarrassing really. I hadn't ever intended on doing such a thing, you see, but I guess you made me feel like I wasn't so alone anymore."

"You… love me?" Arthur asked, eyes wide and worried, like he was waiting for the punch line.

"Why else would I have gone looking for you? Sure, I was hoping to get your help on this job, but I didn't have to come find you. I didn't have to spend four days on a computer trying to. I was worried about you. I wanted to make sure that you were all right."

"…but… nobody loves me," Arthur snorted as if the idea was ridiculous. It seemed to hurt him more than humor him though. It most definitely hurt Eames to hear.

"You really are stupid, aren't you," Eames said, touching his face with just his fingertips. "I know that your past hasn't exactly given you much confidence in the whole concept of 'love' or whatnot. I didn't believe it myself until recently… but I know how I feel. There's nothing you can say that can convince me otherwise. Perhaps I'm just the lucky first to see all of the great things you are beneath that giant brick wall you've built between you and everyone else."

"Great things?" Arthur asked, voice breaking again.

"Like… how you get freaked out by Jack Nicholson and how you can't swim and how you suck with people and can tend to be a coward sometimes. Like… how you're adorable when you're in your pajamas and bedhead and how your smile lights up the entire room that you're in and how you hide under the covers when you're scared… like the way you hold onto my arms and the way you say my name… the way you trust me even when nobody else does."

"All those things sound really lame…" Arthur said.

"They're not," Eames said. "They're more important to me than anything."

There was a long moment of awkward silence where they just stared into each other's eyes, and then Arthur said, "Would you believe me if I told you that I ran from you after Germany because I was afraid… that I might have been falling in love with you?"

"You shouldn't bother running from me anymore, darling. I'll always find you."

Arthur grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and kissed him.

When he pulled away, he said, "That… that was what I was going to tell you before… but I was afraid you would leave… and then I woke up and you were gone, and I thought—I thought I'd screwed it up anyways."

"I'm not going anywhere," Eames said and kissed him again.

---

Owen had another night terror a few days later, but Arthur seemed to come to a conclusion that could help him.

Eames found Arthur in Owen's room with his arm around him, the boy seeming to have calmed down but still shaken up, and Arthur was speaking quietly to him.

"A good friend of mine gave me this idea for when dreams felt too much like reality and I couldn't tell the difference," Arthur explained, digging into his pocket until he revealed his red loaded die. "It's called a totem. See, the thing is, it's an item I know everything about, an item that no one else knows the exact shape or weight of. In my dreams I can roll this and it'll come out in different numbers. It feels different in dreams. In reality, it'll roll the same way every time. The result will always be the same. I can help you find one, and the next time you have a nightmare, all you have to do is check your totem, and you'll remember what's real."

"Does that really work?" Owen asked in wonder, reaching for it but Arthur pulled it away.

"It does. That's why I can't let you touch mine, of course… but, see, in my line of work, I need this to keep myself grounded."

"Oh, the dreaming thing?" Owen asked, blinking, and Arthur stared at him in surprise. Eames was also surprised. "Uh… yeah," Owen continued sheepishly. "I found that suitcase machine thingy in the closet, and I looked it up on the internet until I found out what it was. So, you work for the government or something?"

"Actually, I work on the other side of the dreaming community," Arthur admitted.

"So… you're a criminal? You steal from people's minds?"

"…basically…"

Owen smiled. "That is so cool."

Arthur smiled too. "Don't tell anyone."

"Will you let me try it, Arthur? Come on, I want to try it!"

"Maybe some time in the future," Arthur said. "Let me teach you the basics of lucid dreaming before then, all right?"

The next day, Owen apparently found himself a totem, but he wouldn't let either of the two men see it.

He did however let Arthur see the red coffee cup he'd bought for him that looked almost identical to the one Mal had given him all those years ago. Eames had pretended that he didn't see Arthur wipe away a stray tear when he saw it sitting in the cupboard.

---

Three months passed. Eames could suffice to say he was living with Arthur and Owen for sure by then. He'd even gone to extra measures (with Arthur's help) to make their apartment vanish from anyone's radar so that it was a perfect safe house (though most of Eames's current jobs were low risk—it was amazing how much less of a daredevil he'd become when he had something to come home to).

Arthur groaned, fingers clawing at Eames's shoulders for support as Eames thrust inside, leaving sloppy kisses along his neck. "Fuck—Eames," he choked, gasping for air.

Arthur was working from home during the school year so that Owen could attend classes, but the three of them all had plans to go traveling for work (Owen had insisted that they take him with them because he wanted to see the world—even if he couldn't bring back a bunch of pictures for his friends to see—and he didn't want to keep Arthur in L.A. so that he could be with Eames more often). Eames however was planning on leaving for India first thing in the morning (with Arthur's notes in tow), and so of course he had to give him a proper goodbye.

Eames bit down on Arthur's shoulder and then licked the pain away, pulling out before slamming back in, making Arthur whimper and bite back on a scream.

"Does that feel good, darling?" Eames whispered, and all Arthur could do was nod, mouth hanging open, eyes rolling back in his head.

Arthur and he had never really said that they were a couple after that afternoon in the kitchen, but they'd been having sex and sleeping in the same bed and all that jazz since then, so the idea was there. Arthur and he would fuck whenever they could, and Eames couldn't think of a time when they'd gone longer than a week without doing so when work wasn't involved (the time when he'd gone without was his own fault of course—it turned out that Arthur didn't think it was funny when he came into the bathroom with the line "Here's Johnny!" in his best Nicholson voice).

"Eames—nn—So close—aah—"

"I know, I know," Eames grunted, squeezing the sweat-slicked muscle of the thigh currently wrapped around his waist. "Hold out for me, love—ohh—"

"Sounds like you're the one who needs to hold out," Arthur teased breathlessly, and Eames could tell that holding out was not much of an option at this point. "Fuck—fuck—" He apparently couldn't take it because he released one of Eames's shoulders and reached between them to jerk himself off, and it only took three tugs before he was coming, spilling all over his stomach with a high-pitched moan. The sound was all it took to make Eames's hips stutter and have him growl into Arthur's skin as he came too.

He held on, Arthur kissing him through the entirety of his orgasm, and then he collapsed next to him with a heaving sigh. "Oh, yeah…" Eames said, reaching over to curl his fingers into Arthur's hair. "I'm most definitely going to miss you while I'm gone."

"You'll survive," Arthur replied, still gasping for air as he used tissues from the bedside table to clean himself off. "It's only for a few weeks… just wake me up before you go, or I'll never forgive you."

"Yes, you will," Eames said, tugging Arthur into his arms and planting little kisses along his jawline.

"Maybe so, but you'd better not give me the option to decide," Arthur said, tilting his jaw so Eames could mouth at his neck. "You're not the only one who's going to be going without for a few weeks."

"Would you like for me to ravish you in the morning?" Eames asked.

"When my hair's all matted and I've got stubble and morning breath? Are you out of your mind?"

"You're bloody gorgeous in the morning," Eames replied, slipping a hand down to touch Arthur's still sensitive member, causing him to squeak.

Eames made sure to keep telling Arthur all the time how beautiful he was. Maybe eventually he'd start to believe it.

"Stop…" Arthur chuckled, trying to move away from Eames's hand. "I'm not ready to go again. If I'm not then you can't be."

"Are you mocking my age?"

Arthur laughed, so Eames cut him off by kissing him silent.

…but he swore he could hear something going on outside their bedroom door.

Arthur made a small sound, letting Eames's tongue inside, and Eames forgot about the sounds… mostly…

"What are they even doing in there?" a whispered voice.

"This is a bad idea."

"I didn't know you were such a homophobe, Tyler."

That sounded like Owen.

"I'm not a homophobe, okay? I live in California for Christ's sakes—I'm just saying that that one guy is kind of big and scary—"

"He is not."

Arthur's hands slipped up into Eames's hair, and again he was distracted from the sound…

…at least until the door was kicked open and both of them were pelted with silly string.

"Oh, what the fuck?" Arthur shouted, looking some combination of annoyed and terrified.

Owen and his friends quickly bolted from the room, howling in laughter, and Eames was stumbling out of bed and into his boxer shorts to chase them.

"YOU DAMN KIDS!" Arthur shouted, but he was laughing so hard he could hardly breathe.

Eames caught them before they got Owen's bedroom door shut and dragged them back out into the hallway. They were falling all over each other, still spraying the silly string at each other and at Eames as tears of mirth spilled down their face. Eames didn't care that he'd stretched out the collar of Owen's tight t-shirt, or the fact that the knees of his new jeans were sliding around on the silly string and mashing it into the carpet.

"You're lucky I put on my shorts," Eames said, trying to be stern, but it was so fucking ridiculous that it wasn't looking possible.

"It was revenge for you paintballing me!" Owen complained, and Eames swore he was wearing Arthur's bitch-face.

"All's fair in paintball war," Eames replied, shrugging.

"There wasn't a war!" Owen shouted. "We were in the kitchen!"

"Still, you knew I had a paintball gun," Eames said. He sensed Arthur as he came to lean against the doorframe of his room.

"You know… he's right about that. I never did get revenge on you for ruining that Dunhill suit," Arthur said.

Owen's friend Brandon tossed Arthur a can of silly string, and they all turned their efforts on Eames.

…and really, he should have felt offended and even betrayed…

…but he couldn't even be angry when Arthur and Owen were smiling like that.

And that's the end. Wow... that was fast. O_O

Thank you all so much for your wonderful, wonderful comments. It's because of you guys that I enjoy writing so much and why I keep doing it. I guess a part of me is waiting for you to get sick of me. :P Seriously though, you guys are just amazing. I've been so touched by your sweet words, and I hope to continue to please you with more stories. It's so nice to have someone to share my obsessions with.

Comments

[sparrow-hubris.livejournal.com]

Yay! OMG I love the silly string fight!

[atira7.livejournal.com]

Yayayayayay!! Agh *joy* I really loved this. The ending was so happy and hopeful ^.^

[clair3.livejournal.com]

this have been a great read!

[temperance22705.livejournal.com]

The end? Already? This was such a good story.

[hiko73.livejournal.com]

Nicely written & very touching, thank you for this :)