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Of course Arthur had never considered himself to be the type of guy who joined a fraternity. Being belittled by people who didn't have his intellect, a house of "dudebros" who got into college on the strength of their family name or their abilities on a sports field didn't sound appealing. He wasn't a big fan of spiking girl's drinks, funnels, or getting spanked by wooden objects either. Go figure.
Yet somehow in the first couple weeks of his freshman year, he'd let his roommate, Yusuf the chemistry major, talk him into going to a party at Alpha Iota Epsilon, the most notorious house on campus. Arthur chalked it up to peer pressure. But that's where he met Dom, a guy who could talk earnestly about the power of imagination in modern architecture, Saito, a finance major who was going to own the world someday, and Eames. Who as far as Arthur could tell had no particular goals or aims beyond finishing out his foreign exchange program from England with as little effort as possible. Who also threw around words like "anti-monopolistic" with the same air of old money and new debaucheries as he did the word "douchebag". It wasn't what Arthur had expected it to be.
And somehow Arthur, who was the guy who talked about paradoxical logic and zero gravity at parties, found himself fitting in. Being introduced around and eventually being invited to pledge. An invitation which he accepted.
Which brings him to sophomore year, a full fledged brother of AIE. Standing in front of a group of new pledges.
Eames lounged in a chair next to him, trying to look intimidating and mostly succeeding. His t-shirt was too tight around his shoulders, one of his tattoos half visible beneath his sleeve, a beer bottle in one hand at 10 o'clock in the morning. That was probably the least offensive thing that Arthur would see Eames do all day, so he graciously ignored it.
"Pledges. My name is Eames, as you may recall. But you will call me Mr. Eames. I will be your pledgemaster this semester. You may have come here thinking that pledging is about humiliating you, breaking your spirit. You were wrong. Pledging is about earning your place in a brotherhood whose roots trace back hundreds of years. It is about proving your loyalty and devotion to the men that you will call your brother for the rest of your life."
Eames stopped, looking down the line of the pledges, who looked back at him with less and less trepidation as the speech went on. Arthur kept his face impassive. He remembered the rest of the speech well.
"There will also be no small amount of physical and psychological punishment. However, if you survive, you may call yourself a brother of Alpha Iota Epsilon with pride. Those of you who don't make it through pledging... I don't want to imply that you'll face a lifetime of envy and regret, but know that I'm thinking it." Eames's smile showed too many teeth to be comforting.
Terror restored, Eames gestured to Arthur. "This is Brother Arthur. Unfortunate choice in names, I know. But we don't blame anyone for the sins of their parents at AIE, you'll all be pleased to know."
Ignoring Arthur's quiet, "Fuck you, asshole." Eames continued. "Arthur knows everything and everyone. If you have any questions, see Arthur."
Eames stood, downed his beer with three long gulps. "That'll be all for now." He made a dismissive gesture.
Arthur rolled his eyes. "You can see Brother Dom for the pledge handbook and code of conduct before you leave. And we'll need you back here at 3 o'clock tomorrow." The pledges hesitated. They had learned fast.
"Now you can leave." They filled out quickly and didn't look back.
"You were supposed to go over the handbook with them." Arthur reminded Eames who was absentmindedly checking his text messages.
"Why would I want to do something as boring as reading the handbook? That sounds like your forte." He smiled fondly when Arthur flipped him off.
"Call of Duty tournament in the basement. You in?" Eames asked as he shut his cell phone and stuffed it back into his pocket.
Arthur shook his head. "You cheated the last time."
"I did no such thing." Eames sounded offended that Arthur would even dare to suggest something like that. But he didn't hide his smirk fast enough when Arthur turned on him.
"You stole my phone out of my pocket and read my text messages out loud until I got killed." Arthur accused him.
"That's not cheating. That was a tactical diversion. And how was I to know that your mother was such an ardent texter?" He actually batted his eyelashes with that one, like some kind of cartoon baby lamb, that no one could ever possibly be mad at at. Arthur, however, was immune.
"You're a dick." Arthur said flatly. Eames adopted a wounded expression.
"You adore me, darling." He wrapped an arm around Arthur's waist and squeezed. Being held, something fluttered in the pit of Arthur's stomach, and his breath caught. And okay, that was new. He'd known Eames for a year, lived in the same house as him for a month. It wasn't that he hadn't noticed. He wasn't blind, wasn't stupid. Eames was attractive, so noted. So what? Arthur had even been part of the group of guys last week that had grabbed Eames out of the shower and had thrown him out on the front lawn; naked, wet, and cursing. He had more than acknowledged that Eames was good looking. It didn't mean that he liked him.
Except Eames had an arm around him now, and Arthur hadn't moved away yet. So maybe, potentially, that's exactly what it did mean.
"Fuck."
---------------
The general consensus around campus about the guys of Alpha Iota Epsilon was that they were well-rounded and decent. The kind of guys who would do good, make a difference in the world someday. Or if they wound up as criminals, at least they would be classy about it.
But this was still a fraternity and at present time, most of their activities were alcohol based. So even though it was a Monday when Arthur had his mild homosexual crisis, no one judged him for getting completely wasted. Most of the guys just joined in. Including the instigator of said homosexual crisis. Who wandered around laughing and teasing Arthur, like he had nothing better to do.
Arthur glared at Eames, hoping he would go away. As if he knew what Arthur was thinking, Eames gave Arthur a slow smile.
It was too hot in there, and Arthur apparently wasn't drunk enough. But he could remedy that easily enough.
The guys dispersed when the beer was gone. Dom had to call his girlfriend every night before he went to sleep. She was in France for the semester and he missed her like crazy. Yusuf had apparently been combining sedatives with his alcohol and Saito had gone to make sure that he was still breathing. Which left Arthur alone with Eames in the house's basement.
Arthur rocked his chair back on two legs and snapped, "What?" at Eames, who was currently standing over him.
Eames responded by catching one of the legs of Arthur's chair with his foot, knocking it off its two-legged balance and tipping him over.
Flailing, Arthur crashed into the ground, sending beer cans flying. Eames doubled over with laughter.
"Asshole!" He'd landed awkwardly on his side, with the chair half over him. Arthur couldn't seem to right himself. Eames didn't make him suffer for long, and moved to grab Arthur's hands and haul him to standing
Arthur was planning on retaliating when he was on his feet. But Eames was still laughing softly, his breath huffed across Arthur's face. He'd let go off Arthur's hands to smooth the hair back out of Arthur's face. And Arthur froze. Drank it in. The way it felt to be this near to Eames, the way his face looked up close. All hooded eyes, and stubble, and full lips. And Arthur ached.
It was a long moment before Arthur realized that he'd been staring and that Eames was watching him in return, puzzled and waiting.
"Pizza. We should get pizza." Arthur said finally, his voice collected.
Okay. So he liked Eames, in a weird, hormonal, masochistic kind of way. It didn't have to be a crisis. The facts were that nothing had changed, not essentially. This was one of Arthur's brothers, for life. Arthur would get over his little crush eventually and until then, he had to act as normal. He could handle a walk down the road to Maurice's Pizza, he could handle digging through Eames's pockets for his wallet while Eames juggled the food, he could handle the way Eames wiped sauce from the corner of Arthur's mouth and then licked it off of his finger.
It would be difficult, but Arthur could handle anything.
---------------
The best thing about being in a fraternity was also the worst thing about being in a fraternity. You lived with, ate with, slept down the hall from, hung out with, and drank with the same group of guys. All day, every day. For YEARS. So it's not like Arthur could avoid Eames. Not without deactivating and moving back to the dorms. Although that option became more tempting with every passing minute.
They were playing guinea pig for one of Yusuf's new concoctions. Which from what he'd told Arthur was beer with triple the alcohol content. Of course Eames was volunteer number one.
"If you're not going to swallow all of it, then what's the point of even doing this?" Yusuf demanded as Eames coughed, beer running from the corners of his mouth, dripping on his t-shirt.
"Funny, that's what I said to your mum, last parent's weekend." Eames shot back, pulling off his shirt to wipe his face, the rest of the guys guffawing in the background. Arthur took a sudden interest in the patterns of the floorboards, hands clenched at his sides. He was becoming pathetic, having this overwhelming need to touch, like he had no control over his own body.
Yusuf snatched the funnel back from Eames's hand. "Oh ha, bloody, ha."
It only devolved from there. Arthur went to bed early. It seemed necessary. Tomorrow was another day, where everyone's clothes might stay on. That was really the only thing Arthur could hope for at this point. He wondered vaguely if dorm life was really as bad as he remembered.
He crawled into bed and went to sleep easily, dreamlessly. He always did. He considered that a blessing.
He was woken up at little after 3 a.m. when his bedroom door opened, and someone curled up next to him in his bed.
"You're in the wrong room." It was dark, but he could make out the curve of Eames's face.
"Mmm. Your room was closer. " It was odd that you could hear the same voice every day, and that it still felt like a punch to the gut every time. Although Arthur gave himself a break, the accent was just unfair.
"Please tell me you weren't just throwing up." It might be a little fastidious, considering the fact that Arthur currently had Eames drunk in his bed, but it seemed pertinent.
'Do I smell bad?" Eames's head was on Arthur's pillow. Arthur took a shallow breath in, because of course, Eames didn't smell bad. He smelled like toothpaste and beer and deodorant, like he always did.
"No." He answered, and his voice wasn't shaking, he prided himself on that.
"You smell good." Eames nuzzled closer, pressing bodily against Arthur, who had exhausted the limits of the twin bed he was in, trying to keep space between them. He couldn't go any further without falling on the floor.
He couldn't help himself. He would think about this moment later on, and admit there was really nothing else that he could have done.
He kissed Eames.
Their mouths smeared together in the dark, tentative and soft. Eames's lips parted, and Arthur's tongue moved to taste. It's still just toothpaste and beer, but christ, it's Eames and Arthur can't get enough. His fingers twisted in Eames's shirt at the small of his back, and he's fighting to control himself again. Arthur's getting hard. He didn't know if Eames could tell, and he's finding it difficult to work up the proper amount of concern. He wanted to crawl on top of Eames. But he can't.
So he pulled away. Eames's eyes are closed. He's not really sleeping, his breathing was too irregular. But Arthur let him pretend until Eames eventually did fall asleep. They're still pressed close together on the edge of Arthur's bed, Eames's legs tangled with his, Eames's head on his pillow.
Arthur stayed awake.
---------------
Despite the mildly homoerotic rituals involved in Greek life, generally speaking if you kiss one of your brothers you should expect to get punched.
Apparently at Alpha Iota Epsilon, you played beer pong instead. Eames set up the red cups, and filled them. In the background, the pledges were cleaning, and reciting sections of "The History of Alpha Iota Epsilon". Pledge Nash crossed Arthur's line of sight, wearing what looked like an eye patch, bunny ears, and some kind of women's lingerie in red lace. Arthur wasn't surprised. The kid was a legacy and an asshole. He half hoped that Nash would have to walk home like that.
Arthur crossed his arms mutinously. He felt over-tired and slow, which wasn't improving his mood. And Eames didn't seem to understand the basic rules for pretending that an awkward situation never happened. Wherein you avoid the person until the humiliation wears off. Or until you die, whichever comes first.
"This is ridiculous. Don't you have class?" Arthur looked for an excuse to get out of this because he couldn't seem to make himself walk away.
Eames lined up his shot, frowning in concentration. "I'm sure you know my class schedule better than I do, Arthur. You tell me."
Arthur refrained from proving Eames right and mentioning that Eames's Philosophy, Politics, and Law class had started ten minutes ago. The ball had landed easily in the top cup of Arthur's pyramid. Arthur sighed, fishing the ball out of his cup, picking up the cup and draining it.
"This is a waste of time," he said.
But despite his protests, they played three straight games and only stopped because Arthur demanded a bathroom break.
Arthur was standing at the bathroom sink, cursing Eames for overfilling the cups and for being one of those genetic anomalies that only seemed to get more coordinated the drunker they got. Meanwhile, Arthur wasn't sure he was going to be able to get back down the stairs.
He hadn't heard Eames come in, but when he turned towards the door Eames was standing in his way. Arthur paused in front of him for a beat, expecting Eames to move and let him through. He didn't.
"I thought we were playing another game." Arthur prompted him, waiting for it to trigger some kind of recognition. Eames was staring at him like he didn't quite know how he got there.
"Arthur." Eames shook his head. "I don't want to play."
Arthur opened his mouth to reply, and he probably would have said that he hadn't wanted to play either, that it had all been Eames's fucking idea. But he didn't get the chance, because Eames was kissing him, and Arthur lost his train of thought.
Eames's mouth against his was sloppy and uncoordinated, because once again, they were too fucking drunk and obviously making bad decisions. But at the moment, Arthur wasn't going to complain because he had his hands on Eames's ass, and when he licked his way inside Eames's mouth, Eames had groaned in a way that essentially shut down the logic and reasoning portion of Arthur's brain. Every synapse that was firing was directing him to haul Eames closer and get his hands all over him, now now now.
If he had been thinking clearly, Arthur would have realized that making out with one of his fraternity brothers in a shared bathroom during the middle of the day was a bad idea.
Because it was highly likely that someone would walk in on them.
It was Dom.
"Wow." Was the only thing Dom said after a long moment, when Arthur and Eames had guiltily sprung apart. They were all staring at the floor, afraid to make eye contact.
"Okay. Sorry." Dom finished, and then fled like he was escaping a murder rap.
Arthur wasn't far behind him.
---------------
Arthur had never expected to join a fraternity, but here he was. And the thing that had changed his mind about this fraternity was that he realized he wanted to be a part of everything that it stood for. The tradition; loyalty, honor, brotherhood.
Dom was his Big Brother, the guy that had watched his back when he was pledging. The guy that would have his back through anything, and vice versa.
Except that Dom had seen him with his tongue down another guy's throat, and that currently made things a little awkward.
So Dom was avoiding Arthur and Arthur was avoiding Eames, who was seemingly oblivious that anything out of the ordinary had happened.
Arthur had hoped that he could just hide out in his room for the rest of the semester, but it hadn't worked out for him. Yusuf had poked his head inside Arthur's door and hadn't let Arthur's grimace faze him. "Madame Mystique's tonight, you in?"
Arthur had rubbed a hand over his face and sighed. Getting drunk was probably the last thing that he should be doing. It wouldn't solve any of his issues. In fact, he didn't have any issues that alcohol hadn't been a contributing factor in.
But here he was at a strip club, letting a girl named Lolly rub her tits in his face while Eames slipped what Arthur hoped was $1 bills in her panties. Eames was prone to throwing around money without a care, and $900 in lap dances later needing to borrow money the next day for breakfast.
"Enjoying the VIP treatment, Arthur?" Eames asked, shouting over the club music. He reclined in his seat, completely at home, as a topless brunette brought him another drink. They were sitting in a booth in the back. The rest of the guys seemed to be spread out between the stage and the bar. Arthur could see Dom and Saito in the middle of it all deep in discussion at a table littered with empty glasses. Dom didn't look over to where Arthur and Eames were sitting.
Yusuf beckoned Lolly across the room with $20 and Arthur used his reprieve to snag Eames's drink. He watched Eames over the rim of the glass. Arthur had never really thought about his own sexuality. All of the sexual experience he'd had up til now had been good, if also awkward and uncomfortable. He was 19.
And Eames... Arthur had known him long enough to be know that the occasional foray into homosexuality wouldn't send him into a shame spiral, whether he typically preferred women or not. Eames was opportunistic that way.
Arthur subscribed to the theory that things needed to be labeled neatly and put away. But he couldn't quite explain way he couldn't take his eyes off of the perspiration beading over Eames's top lip, or the skin at small of Eames's back showing in the gap between his t-shirt and his jeans. Arthur swallowed hard, and thought, I'm 19. Fuck it.
He leaned over and hooked his fingers in the collar of Eames's shirt, tugging him so that he could whisper in his ear. "You want to go outside with me?"
Eames was close enough that Arthur could feel the smirk forming on his face. "Yeah."
They went to Saito's car. He'd left it unlocked. For some reason, no one ever fucked with Saito's stuff. They sat side by side in the backseat, Arthur's left leg pressed against Eames's right. Eames took a deep breath in through his mouth and it sounded impossibly loud. He took another when Arthur moved to straddle his lap.
The kiss was frantic, Arthur's fingers twisted in Eames's hair, holding him steady. He couldn't stop biting at Eames's bottom lip, taking it between his teeth and worrying it red. Eames shivered under him, his thighs tremored, and Arthur didn't have enough hands to do all the things he wanted to do.
Arthur's phone sounded a note that meant he'd gotten a text. He was a little tipsy and a lot turned on but he checked the message anyway as Eames took the opportunity to lick a stripe up his neck.
It was from Dom.
"The guys are coming." Arthur said. Eames gave a frustrated sigh as Arthur climbed back into the seat next to him, straightening his clothes.
"We can just continue this at the house then, yeah?" Eames asked, pining Arthur with his gaze.
It was still a bad idea, Arthur could see that. Alcohol and trouble and Eames were all synonymous as far as he was concerned.
It was a mistake and he would probably regret it, but he could honestly say that at this moment, the brotherhood of AIE wasn't as important to him as Eames's mouth was.
"Yeah."
---------------
They drove back to the house with Saito and Dom and Yusuf, Eames and Arthur sitting a little bit closer to each other in the backseat than they needed to. Dom had given Arthur that look that meant he wasn't sure Arthur knew what he was doing. It was true that Arthur worked better with a plan. But he could handle this. He would figure out how to reestablish the status quo with Eames, and get things back to normal.
Tomorrow.
Eames and Yusuf were discussing going up to the roof of the house for a quick cigarette. Arthur didn't smoke, and thought about just heading back to his room. Eames looked at him and his lips curved. He knew Arthur too well. So he wrapped a hand around Arthur's bicep and wouldn't let go until they got to the roof.
Technically they weren't allowed out there since in the 60s some guy named Peter Browning had jumped off the Phi Mu roof. He'd lived but it hadn't looked good for the university.
But it was a great view of the campus, and invariably the guys ended up there, smoking or on one memorable occasion, stripping down and singing "The Men of Alpha Iota Epsilon", the official song of AIE.
It wasn't a bad view of Eames either, as he lit a cigarette and blew lazy smoke rings. Arthur watched him as he and Yusuf traded bullshit about who the strippers liked the most.
A minute later and Yusuf shivered, the movement shaking his whole body. "Bit cold out here, yes?" Yusuf said. "I'm heading in."
Arthur nodded, even though he thought Yusuf was being a bit of a pussy. It was some of the best weather they'd had in the past weeks. Warm and still.
The roof access door slammed shut as Eames stubbed out his cigarette on the roof's ledge. "He's locked us out here, you realize."
Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose, a vital piece of information coming back to him. "You hacked his facebook account?" Yusuf had been on a warpath since last weekend, when several embarrasing pictures and status updates had appeared on his facebook account.
"No." Arthur had to hand it to him. Eames was good. Arthur almost believed him. He glared at Eames until he relented with an unrepentant smile.
"I had Pledge Fischer do it."
Arthur cursed, exasperated. Eames stepped forward, smoothing his hands down Arthur's arms. If it was meant to be comforting, it didn't work. Arthur felt tenser with Eames near him, with Eames's hands on him.
"No reason to worry. He'll be back in a couple of hours." Eames said. "He doesn't have your resolve."
Arthur raised an eyebrow. It wasn't a word he'd use to describe himself currently. He felt less resolved with every passing moment. He was pissed that they were trapped out here, but he couldn't even properly bitch about it because Eames was still moving his hands over Arthur's arms. They paused at Arthur's elbows, cupped around them. Then slipped down to Arthur's hips, fingers hooked in the belt loops of his jeans. Arthur let Eames haul him forward.
"You've resisted me, thus far." Eames continued.
Arthur's self-deprecating laugh was lost against Eames's lips.
It should have been easy to resist. The stubble on Eames's face was scratching the hell out of him, and he hated the taste of tobacco. And still, he wrapped himself around Eames like he would go insane if he didn't. He's shaking with it, the want, and it made him clumsy as he pawed at Eames's clothes. He fought the button fly at Eames's crotch, he couldn't see it, because Eames's hands were at the back of his head, holding their mouths together. He bit Arthur's tongue a little when Arthur's hand finally found its way inside his pants, but even the slight taste of blood couldn't distract Arthur. His body was more confident than his mind would be, and it's a good thing that he doesn't need to think, because he couldn't if he tried. He knew how to do this, how a hand should grip around a cock. It's no different than his own, except maybe a little wider around. But it's hot and heavy in his hand, and when he stroked it, his hand was tight and firm. He knew that it felt good. Eames's hips jerked raggedly, and he bit down on Arthur's tongue again when he came.
It's wet and sticky on Arthur's hand and he didn't know where or how to wipe it off. He pulled back from their kiss, and finally looked at Eames. He was flushed and gasping for air, his cock hanging out of his pants, still half-hard.
Arthur reached for the fastenings of his own jeans, and undressing himself thankfully came easier. He pulled his dick out through the slit in his boxers and jacked himself off, Eames's come on his hand making it slicker, hotter, and dirtier. He stared at Eames, at Eames's mouth, and he was already so close to finishing and he'd barely even touched himself. Eames was staring back at him, bottom lip caught between his teeth, eyes dark. He reached out and his hand covered over Arthur's. Two more pulls with Eames's hand on him, and Arthur was done. He came hard, and it tore through him, leaving him weak-kneed and light-headed. Arthur closed his eyes, and could still see Eames there.
But Arthur was finally too tired to worry about the consequences or what it all meant. So they slumped with their backs against the door, leaning against each other, the silence more companionable than awkward.
Eames was still staring at him, as Arthur slowly put himself back together. Eames hadn't bothered, and didn't seem in any hurry to put his cock away.
Eames cleared his throat. "I should probably tell you that the door wasn't actually locked," he said.
Arthur let out a small laugh at the sheepish look on Eames's face. But he wasn't surprised.
"You're an asshole."
---------------
The secret to living with a group of guys is that guys don't hold grudges for long. Knock-down, drag-out fights always ended in beer and video games at the AIE house. Arthur helped Dom with a bit of statistical analysis for a class project, Dom brought Arthur a cup of coffee and that was it. They were speaking again. Sort of.
Dom had a way of unlocking the secret doubts that Arthur had hidden away and exposing them. And Arthur wasn't going to talk about his feelings or "what it all meant" or what effect it would have on the house dynamics with Dom. With anyone. Arthur wasn't even going to think about it, because it would just piss him off.
Arthur had decided that since he couldn't seem to shake this pathological obsession with Eames that he wasn't going to make a big deal out of it either. And if he didn't treat it like one, it wouldn't be one. Then when it ended, it wouldn't be messy. For anyone. Arthur was in control of the situation.
It was just pink elephant syndrome. The more Arthur had tried not to think about Eames, the more he'd ended up thinking about him. So for now, he'd stopped trying.
He played Madden with Eames on Tuesday, beat him spectacularly. A fact that Eames blamed on his own Britishness. He walked to class with Eames Wednesday afternoon, trying to talk Eames out of breaking into Phi Mu and gluing all their doors shut. On Thursday he and Eames had the pledges go to seven different restaurants to finally end the debate of who made the best nachos in town. Mr. Charles was the winner.
It was the same fraternity life routine that Arthur had been in for the past year. Except for the fact that now Eames had been crawling into Arthur's bed every night with excuses that had gotten progressively flimsier and stupider. He'd locked himself out of his bedroom, Yusuf had set his mattress on fire during an experiment, Saito had sent the Department of Health and Safety board up his room as a biohazard. That last one might be true.
Arthur would have been embarrassed by how easily he had given in to Eames's bullshit if he hadn't been too busy committing every inch of Eames's body to memory. The way lines of ink curled around his arms, rolled down his back and stretched around his belly. The muscles in his shoulders and legs. The way his head tilted back and his mouth fell open when Arthur was on top of him. Yeah, Arthur had very little dignity left.
Tonight Eames had gone with the basics. His room was just too far away. And the bottle of tequila he brought with him was a bribe for sanctuary. Arthur accepted the lie and the bottle. He was easy.
The bottle was mostly gone and they were both half-naked, sprawled across Arthur's tiny bed. Eames was trying to explain that exposing his dick in a lecture hall actually was as hysterical as he seemed to find it.
"I'm not impressed." Arthur said. Public nudity was the hallmark of most of the AIE house's practical jokes, but it subtlety was the key. Eames didn't seem to get the distinction.
Eames feigned offense. "You find my cock impressive."
Arthur reached over and lifted up the front of Eames's boxer shorts, and inspected his cock clinically as it stiffened under the appraisal. He let the material fall back into place with a snap. "I've seen better," he said, keeping his expression bland.
Eames raised up on one elbow and quirked an eyebrow at that. "Your mother was far more complimentary about it."
"If you say anything about my mother ever again, they'll never find where I've buried you." Arthur said, and it wasn't a joke. But he gave a tequila fueled laugh at Eames's mimed terror. And kept laughing as Eames leaned over to kiss him, to roll onto him.
Eames kept the kiss light and lazy, the slightest rub of his lips over Arthur's, pulling back slightly whenever Arthur tried to deepen it. If Arthur could control it, he would stop himself from making those soft, greedy noises every time Eames's mouth moved away from his. He shouldn't be this desperate for it, not after they'd done this so many times. The only thing that kept him from feeling pathetic was the fact that Eames couldn't get enough either.
Arthur raised his knees, letting Eames settle on top of him between his parted legs. It was still barely even anything, just a kiss, but they were both hard already and Arthur's heart felt like it would beat out of his chest.
"This is good." Eames turned his face to whisper to Arthur, his breath was hot and heavy next to Arthur's ear.
Arthur was distracted just then by the slight rocking of Eames's hips against his and didn't respond for a long moment. "The sex or the threats?" He eventually managed to ask.
Eames just smiled, his face pressed close to Arthur's. He moved his hips again, more deliberately this time, his dick brushing against Arthur's, a ghost pressure that wasn't nearly enough. Arthur wanted more. Arthur didn't let Eames pull back this time, gripping with his hands and his knees. The taste of tequila was still sharp in his mouth and Arthur was too drunk and horny to articulate what a fucking tease Eames was.
So Arthur showed Eames instead, his hips jerking up, rubbing their cocks together hard and quick. The change in pace didn't seem to bother Eames. His eyes went dark with pleasure and he was the one making needy noises now, only they're loud. Arthur should care about volume control, he really should. Anyone could hear. But somehow that had become one of the things that was getting him off. He bucked against Eames and Eames moaned his name, strangled and helpless as he came and it's over for Arthur too. It was sudden, he hadn't braced himself and it left him wrecked against his pillows, Eames collapsed on top of him. He buried his face in the crook of Eames's neck as the aftershocks rolled through him, and tried to keep breathing.
"All of it's good. All of it." Eames said out of the blue, his head on Arthur's shoulder. Arthur was confused for a second, the combination of tequila and sex almost made him forget that he'd asked Eames a question. And now he was doing the thing that he had expressly decided not to do, trying to decipher 'what it all meant'. The fact that Eames was here, that Eames was always here. The fact that Arthur hadn't put a stop to this whole thing weeks ago. The fact that Eames was murmuring things like that across the pillow to him, and his voice sounded all fond and intimate, and it wasn't what Arthur had expected from him or had ever thought about even wanting from him.
Arthur had another little moment of crisis. Suddenly it wasn't a crush anymore, it wasn't nothing. They had something, here, together. They were friends and they had sex and it was all so good.
So he didn't think about how badly this would end or if it would change the dynamic in the house. For once it was easy.
Maybe the tequila just made him more pliant and vulnerable than usual. Because Eames slid his palm over Arthur's, and Arthur laced their fingers together and held on.
---------------
Fraternities are late night entities, which had taken Arthur some time to get used to. The idea that he didn't have to get up early for class anymore, that there were some days where he didn't have to get up at all. This would be one of them.
Normally he would get up and head downstairs. Downstairs there would be coffee and cold pizza. But Arthur was too hungover to seriously contemplate that idea. He'd have to get up some time. But not yet.
The room had spun when he woke up this morning. Fucking tequila.
It was after noon. Eames was still passed out next to him. He must have gotten up at some point, because he had a hand around a bottle of blue Gatorade and he was wearing Arthur's sweatpants, too long and too tight on him.
Arthur stole the Gatorade. It was only fair.
Eames woke up as Arthur shifted up to drink it, blearily peering at him. "Kicking me out so soon?" He said, his voice sounding gravely and unused.
"You'll have to walk of shame it back to your room eventually." Arthur said, setting the empty bottle by the side of the bed.
Eames grunted and buried his face in Arthur's pillow. "Should have known that you'd stop respecting me as soon as I put out. You fraternity guys are all the same."
Eames didn't see it but Arthur smiled.
Arthur wasn't the kind of guy who joined a fraternity. But he loved this house, loved the guys as his brothers. He loved that across the hall in Yusuf's room, there would be the scent of something sweet and burning. In Cobb's room next door, he would be on the phone with Mal, butchering French. He loved that he could hear what sounded like two distinct female voices coming from Saito's room. He knew that the pledges would be in the backyard doing a little light gardening, wearing ninja costumes because Eames liked it when people played dress-up.
Arthur hadn't ever expected to be in a fraternity, and he hadn't expected to find himself fumbling his way into a relationship with one of his fraternity brothers. Arthur had kind of thought of his crush on Eames as a form of being drunk. He'd made stupid decisions, he hadn't been able to find his footing, he couldn't even think straight. And he'd thought that he would wake up eventually, and the buzz would be gone. It hadn't worked out that way. Because Arthur loved being here with Eames.
Maybe drinking too much had gotten them here but Arthur didn't blame the alcohol. Arthur was sober and he liked Eames. He could get drunk again tonight and he would still like Eames. But Arthur could deal with that. He could deal with anything.
The cause of and the solution to all of Arthur's problems had been Eames all along.
Arthur lied back down, wrapping an arm around Eames's waist, thinking about going back to sleep too.
He muttered one word into the side of Eames's neck before falling asleep. The kind of word that spoke to the affection between friends and fraternity brothers. What he said was -
"Douchebag."