"But He Doesn't Know Who I Am" - Eames

[kellifer]

“I'm sorry but you still don't qualify for financial aid. Your parents are claiming you as a tax exemption. You can't be emancipated to live on the streets so your fixed address will have to remain theirs. You should try student placement."

Eames sighed and rolled his eyes. He felt like he'd been having the exact same conversation with the exact same people for four months now. He was living on a couch that belonged to a French girl named Mal. She had a band and had taken pity on him when she'd caught him kipping in the bathroom of the bar he worked at and she’d just finished a gig in. It was close to school but his postal address was still his parent's house and therein laid the problem. Mal understood up to a point but she was starting to resent his presence, he could just feel it.

The apartment was the size of a postage stamp and people's good will only let them forgive so much when they pretty much had to step on you to get their morning coffee.

"Those jobs don't pay enough to cover tuition and get a place to live. I make more at the bar but I can't work enough hours with my classes. My boss is starting to hate the crap out of me and is giving me all the bad shifts."

The woman across the desk from him sighed and shuffled papers. "I'm sorry again," she said and Eames got the distinct impression that all she was sorry about was being forced to deal with people like him. "Not everyone who is accepted can go to this school."

***

Eames supposed his life could be worse. For example, he could be the kid that had just fallen down the stairs at the first Contagious Magic lecture right when everyone was already settled in their seats.

Eames watched the kid scrape himself into the chair beside his own with burning cheeks and a muttered oath. He was looking decidedly frazzled as he rescued his book bag from the floor and dug a pen and notebook out of it, shrinking down in his seat like he could become invisible after that kind of entrance. Eames thought the kid probably just wanted to be left alone right at that moment but he couldn't help himself, he felt something deep down pulse and he knew the kid had actually hurt himself.

Damn empathic magic.

“Hey mate, that looked like it hurt. You okay?" Eames asked.

"Yeah, m'good," the kid managed out of the side of his mouth, an edge of desperation to his tone. Please don’t call attention to my presence rang loud and clear in his voice.

“No, seriously,” Eames persisted because the kid’s pain was going to be a nagging itch all through the lecture. “You look like you banged your knee pretty bad. Here.” Eames put a hand out and kind of felt the air for a moment before he dropped a hand on the kid's knee. The kid jerked a little and almost dropped his pen before relaxing again, eyes wide and fixed to the front of the room. Eames concentrated and then smiled to himself. There was bruising, but nothing broken. It was almost too easy. He said a few words under his breath, a little incantation he'd made up to help him focus and blue mist curled through his fingers.

Eames liked healing, it was a natural high. The downside was that it also made him ravenous which was unfortunate because Eames was on a pretty strict budget when it came to stuff like that. He dug into his pockets with his free hand and was pleased to find a stash of the little packets of spreads he'd liberated from the campus cafeteria earlier. He pulled one free, peanut butter which was perfect, ripped it open with his teeth and stuck it in the side of his cheek.

“Uh, thanks,” the kid said a touch breathlessly and moved his leg a little sideways. Eames took that as his cue to remove his hand and offered the kid a no sweat grin. The kid flushed with colour again, a dull pink instead of the almost neon he'd been when he'd made his entrance.

They didn't say another word during the class but Eames felt the kid's eyes on the side of his face more than once. He wondered if it was out of recognition, perhaps the kid regretting not looking where he'd been sitting when he was embarrassed. Eames was used to people avoiding him, not really understanding that he wasn't any particular kind of threat. He supposed he cut a pretty unsettling figure what with the necessary protection tattoos. He tried to dress harmlessly to counteract it but it didn't seem to work. He certainly wouldn't be afraid of a man in pink but it just didn't seem to do much for him.

Eames moved to the front of the room when class was over, dismissing the kid from his mind. Saito had his little flock of sycophants gathered around him and Eames wanted to make sure he was in Saito's line of sight so he could roll his eyes and smirk like usual.

If only they knew.

o0o

"I was thinking I could stay with you," Eames said, watching Saito unearth a freshly pressed suit from his wardrobe, still in the cleaner’s plastic. "Y'know, here," he added, as if that needed clarification. Eames was sprawled on Saito's bed in just his boxers and he rolled onto his side as Saito fussed around the room, pointedly not looking in his direction. "The situation with Mal's starting to get a little-"

"You know that's impractical," Saito interrupted, holding up one hand. He used it to slice through the air to indicate an end to the conversation. Eames had seen Saito make that same gesture with a student whining about a low grade. "We have to be careful; the Board would not look kindly on our relationship."

"It's not forbidden though," Eames argued. "Just frowned upon."

"The last thing I need is Miles frowning in my direction," Saito countered. "They are announcing Placement at the end of this year."

"So I'm to remain your dirty little secret then?" Eames grunted, getting up and yanking his jeans on. "I don't ask for much. I grade your papers and I'm available when you need me to be despite my schedule and all I ask is this one little-"

"I am very late," Saito interrupted and then smiled. It was the charming smile that Eames was almost powerless against. "And you are very clever. You will work something out."

"I guess," Eames grumbled.

o0o

At the next Contagious Magic lecture, the boy that had fallen down the stairs was again seated next to Eames. It was kind of nice that someone had actually risked breeching the empty space Eames always had around himself, three chairs deep in every direction.

Eames could feel the boy's gaze on him more than once again but every time he looked, the boy was studiously staring at his notes or the front of the room. Eames wanted to say something but the boy looked like he would spook easily.

At the end of the lecture while the boy was busy organising his papers, Eames was up on his feet, scooping his potions bag and a stack of folders into his arms and down the stairs before the boy had a chance to move.

There were other attendees hovering around Saito as always, but Eames didn't press to the middle like the others were trying to do. Instead he waited patiently, a little back from the group and he didn't even so much as glance the boy's way even though he could feel his eyes burning into the back of his neck.

Eames turned to see the boy slinking out of the hall, books clutched to his chest and head ducked down, ignoring the people who chuckled as he passed by.

o0o

Eames was half asleep the next morning, using the last of the coffee at the cafeteria's coffee station when he heard a disappointed huff behind him. Eames turned, about to offer an apology but precious little else when he saw it was again the boy from his lecture. He was standing there looking adorably mortified that his noise of protest had been heard, with his usually slicked-back hair in his eyes and alluringly rumpled clothing. He looked barely old enough to be in college, clean-cheeked and dark eyed.

Eames looked at his overlarge thermos and then at the chipped coffee mug the boy was clutching and smiled. “Oh, wow. Sorry mate,” he said and proceeded to dump half the contents from his thermos into the kid's mug. The kid just watched him with eyes gone from sleep-hazed to wide as Eames passed a hand over both cups and the coffee surged to the top of both. "I've never been able to create from scratch but I'm a master at increasing mass that's already there," he said, watching the kid cautiously. He never knew how people would react to such a careless use of magic. Most hoarded it because it was difficult but it flowed through Eames, easy as breathing.

He'd known envy and resentment and plenty of it in his time, but mostly fear. The kid didn't look so much afraid as confused and Eames could feel his smile slipping as the kid continued to stare at him, open-mouthed like he was some interesting bug that he wasn't sure was poisonous or not. Eames fussed with his collar, suddenly self-conscious about his tattoos showing.

“Thanks,” the kid finally said, a little loud and hysterical, the dull blush back in his cheeks and Eames sighed and shrugged.

“Hey, no problem,” he said and went to make his escape, not really wanting to deal with someone who was horrified at his existence that early in the morning.

"You must like peanut butter," the kid said behind him and Eames turned back, glancing at the packets in his hand and then at the basket they'd come out of next to the coffee station that was empty because of him.

“Oh yeah. It’s a good, and more importantly free sugar and protein hit," he said, feeling embarrassment thrum through him. The kid was watching him steadily, colour still high in his cheeks and then Eames noticed something under the kid's arm.

“Is that a hat?” he asked, nudging his thermos in its direction and the kid looked momentarily confused before pulling free probably the most awful knitted abomination in the history of mankind from under his arm. It was a little surprising and Eames couldn't fight the compulsion to comment on it because the kid was dressed so impeccably otherwise.

When the kid held it up, Eames realised it was worse than he'd originally thought. It was purple and had an honest to god bobble on the top of it. The kid was holding it aloft with a hand in it so it turned lazily on his fingers and Eames could appreciate the complete horror from all angles.

It had ear flaps.

“Yeah,” the kid agreed but then his face closed down and his mouth became a grim, defensive little line. “You lose most of your body heat out of your head. Anyone without a hat in this kind of weather is crazy.”

“I’m sorry, but anyone in that hat looks crazy,” Eames laughed. “And the head thing is a myth.” He carefully pocketed his peanut butter packets and made a grab for the hat but the kid turned at the last moment and Eames accidentally got his hand on the kid's side where his shirt had pulled up at the movement.

“My mother made it,” the kid announced, sounding deeply offended by Eames' criticism. “You do not insult a guy's mother.”

“I’m Eames,” Eames said, offering his hand, feeling bad. There was a tattoo on his inner wrist, an eye with a starburst behind it that tended to freak people out. He knew he was taking a risk showing it but the kid didn't even seem to notice, just tucked his hat under his arm, took Eames' hand and shook firmly.

"I'm Arthur and yeah, I know," Arthur said and Eames didn't know why, but he felt disappointed. He'd thought maybe, finally he was getting a fresh start with someone but it didn't seem like that was going to happen. He was going to be working against gossip and innuendo just like with every other person he'd ever met. He didn't know why but this Arthur had seemed delightfully clueless.

"You're in my CM lecture. You're always correcting Mr. Saito. I think you pretty much walk into class with your hand raised," Arthur explained though and Eames was surprised and pleased.

"So you think I'm an arrogant bastard, right?" Eames asked and could feel his face burn lightly. He wondered if it was that obvious that he was overcompensating for his personal relationship with Saito. He tried not to but Saito was also guilty of it, being completely dismissive of Eames if Eames didn't push.

"If anyone, I think Saito's the arrogant bastard," Arthur said and grinned like they were sharing a joke. Eames felt his stomach twist though because the mention of Saito reminded him that he'd been allotted about twenty minutes of Saito's time that morning and he was missing his window. He'd meant to make only a quick coffee stop before heading over to Saito's apartment.

"I have to go, it was nice meeting you," Eames said in a rush, hoping he didn't come off as rude as he darted away, weaving between mostly bleary-eyed and half-asleep students.

o0o

"You're fifty short," Angelo said, raising an eyebrow at Eames. He leant forward so he could be heard over the pounding music.

"That's impossible," Eames protested, slapping his hand down on Angelo's table. He was sweaty and the smell of stale beer was in his nose and on his skin, making him feel nauseous. He'd cashed out his draw himself and it had been dead on with his receipts. Eames eyed the woeful tip jar at the end of the bar. It had been a quiet night. He'd been getting all quiet shifts at the bar since Angelo had taken over as manager.

He needed the job to stay in school and actually pay for books and the ever-increasingly expensive potion ingredients but it was getting more and more difficult. Moving in with Saito had meant he might have had a permanent address to apply for financial aid but that plan had gone out the window. He hadn't really thought that Saito would say yes but he'd been hopeful.

Now Angelo was trying to screw him out of the money that would have kept him in pizza for the rest of the week. "You can take it up with Tony when he gets here if you want," Angelo said, shrugging. "He'll be here in a couple of hours, give or take."

"I have an essay to finish," Eames said and then grimaced, reaching out and across the bar and snagging the jar. He resisted the urge to upend it all over Angelo's table and instead smacked it down hard enough that the bottom cracked.

o0o

Eames was already smiling when he felt someone drop into the seat next to him but his smile froze in place when he saw it was not Arthur at all, but Robert Fischer. "What do you want?" Eames asked, feeling the beginnings of a headache stir at the back of his head. He thought it was completely unfair that most of his Natural magic was a knack for healing but he could never seem to help himself. He would love to be able to put a hand to his temple and just will the headache away.

"Nice to see you too Eames," Robert said. He was not someone who was put off by Eames' reputation or the stories that surrounded him. If anything, Robert wanted to bait Eames because of it. It was hard to deal with Robert for a completely different reason also.

Even though Saito wouldn't confirm or deny it, according to the rumour mill they had once been a thing.

"Are you lost?" Eames hissed and Robert laughed.

"I could ask the same about you," Robert said, kicking his feet up onto the chairs in front of them. "What are you even doing here?"

"Getting a degree, same as everyone," Eames snapped back but he knew where this conversation was going and even though he didn't really want to hear it, he couldn't help being morbidly fascinated that someone was going to come right out and say what everyone else was only thinking.

"That's really cute," Robert said with a sickly grin. "You'll have a nice piece of paper to line your homeless box with on cold nights."

Eames turned slightly to look at Robert's almost too perfect profile. Some would say that Robert's pale blue eyes were pretty but Eames just found them unsettling. He opened his mouth, probably to offer something as pithy as fuck you but Saito entered the room, effectively heading off any further argument.

Eames clamped down on the urge to hurt Robert, give him a little scare because he also didn't want to prove him right, be the thug Robert assumed he was. "Walk away now," Eames said slowly at the end of the lecture and Robert was grinning as he obliged, probably feeling victorious. As if to make things worse, Eames caught a glimpse of Arthur making a hasty retreat from the back of the room as he got up and crossed to Saito who for once was being left alone at the end of the lecture and was gesturing him over. Eames felt his heart sink, not even really knowing why.

"Later, Eames," Robert called and sketched a little salute before he disappeared.

o0o

Eames felt like shit when he woke up on a dreary Wednesday. He'd had to work later the night before and he knew he was fighting a hell of a cold. He could heal cuts and abrasions but infections and viruses were a little beyond him, not that he could do anything for himself anyway.

He ran into Arthur when he was just done nearly coughing up a lung. “Oh, hey,” Eames said, trying not to sound too out of it.

“Hi,” Arthur said, looking shy and nervous which only made Eames grin and forget how lousy he felt for a few moments. Concern registered across his features when Eames couldn't hold in another fit of coughing. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just a cold,” Eames said, waving an it’s nothing hand.

Arthur opened his eyes impossibly wide and blurted something so fast that Eames didn’t quite catch it but that left him heaving like he’d just run a marathon. There was a nervous energy to him that was strangely appealing.

“What?” Eames asked, lowering his papers and raising his eyebrows.

“I got… I have two tickets to this play. I just thought, would you like to go?”

Arthur was blushing furiously and it was a good look on him. Eames had gotten so used to being isolated at the school, apart from Saito of course, that someone reaching out to him with no apparent agenda was a little confusing and he didn't quite know how to respond. He was suspicious despite himself. He'd had people approach him before but it was mostly because they thought he could do something for them or they'd just been morbidly curious about the Natural. “I mean, it sounds grand but… why me? You don’t even really know me."

Arthur seemed to weigh his words, hesitating before he smiled and hell, revealed dimples which was completely unfair. “You’re really one of the only people I do know.” He half-shrugged and amended, “at least, who isn’t crazy or likely to use me for an unholy agenda.” He chuckled to himself and ducked his head, hair that was usually carefully scraped back falling over his forehead again.

Eames gave him a half-smile, still a little unsure. “Which play is it?”

“The World Of The Dream.”

“Oh cool. I’ve heard of that. Apparently way more mutilation than your average play. When is it?”

“Friday,” Arthur supplied, digging tickets out of his back pocket and holding them out, hastily jamming a piece of paper that had been wrapped around them back into the pocket.

“I've got a job interview Friday,” Eames said, genuinely disappointed. “I could meet you there a little late, though? I might miss the first act but the really gory stuff doesn’t happen till halfway through, right?”

“Yeah, sure,” Arthur said, sounding eager and pleased. “You can meet me inside. I’ll keep an eye out.”

“Won’t it be dark?”

“I think you’re pretty hard to miss,” Arthur said and then swallowed hard and looked away again, flushing dully when Eames just laughed and took the ticket.

“Right you are, Friday,” Eames agreed.

o0o

The girl at student placement who had glanced at him with boredom, took one look at the name he'd put on the application and shook her head. "Oh, no, we've already filled that position," she said hastily.

"Are you sure about that?" Eames asked and then leaned across the desk, seeing the way her eyes darted to the tattoo that showed just under his sleeve on his bicep and grunted. He'd been tattooed when he was twelve, a patchwork of ink, colour and ritual magic that was supposed to contain his own. Naturals were notorious for being unstable and his parents had thought that the best thing to do would be to try and reign in his talent early. The tattoos didn't exactly prohibit him from using the magic within him but he certainly had to work around them.

It was a blatant advertisement for what he was. He could've covered up but Eames would rather that his nature was out there than be a surprise. The tattoos were something done to him without his permission but they were also a part of him.

He wasn't going to hide just to please other people.

Eames could argue but he was still feeling like crap. He looked at his watch and saw that if he really rushed, he could possibly catch Arthur at his dorm before he left and they could walk over to the theatre together.

He had felt okay when he left the office but by the time he reached Arthur's dorm building, Eames could feel a cold sweat forming on his back and across his brow. Eames ducked inside with a couple of giggling girls and grimaced when he found himself in the midst of a dorm party. He'd been planning to ask which room Arthur's was but the first couple of people he tried obviously didn't live there and only looked at him blankly.

Eames started feeling even more light-headed so he headed to a bathroom at the end of the floor, just planning to splash some cold water on his face and try to pull himself together.

o0o

Eames woke up hot and disorientated. He felt a thrill of panic course through him right up until he spotted Arthur coming through the door. Then it all slotted into place, the small room, art posters on the wall and the smell of cheap beer and even cheaper deodorant.

He was in a dorm room.

Arthur’s

"Hey, what happened?" Eames asked, wondering if he should be embarrassed. He risked a look under the blankets and he was wearing underwear he didn't recognise that was a tad too tight for him. He eyed Arthur speculatively over the blanket.

"What's the last thing you remember?" Arthur asked, settling into a chair that was pulled up to the bedside. The room was a single and Eames knew Arthur would be lucky to have it but the bed was tiny, barely enough room for him let alone another person. Eames was pretty sure nothing had happened, at least in this bed.

“Um, I went to the interview,” Eames said, trying to remember but everything was fuzzy. “It was only seven when I was done and I knew the play wasn’t till eight so I headed over... here I guess? But I wasn’t feeling so hot so I ducked into the bathroom to just put my head down for a sec.” Eames figured it was morning or early afternoon by the light in the room and was horrified by the thought that maybe he'd stolen Arthur's bed for a whole night. “How long have I been out?”

“It’s Sunday,” Arthur said and Eames was appalled that it was far longer than he'd suspected. There was no other furniture in the room except for the stiff-looking chair Arthur was perched on. There was a blanket thrown over it and Eames wondered if maybe the uneasy way Arthur was moving around meant that he'd spent two nights in it or on the floor.

“Oh hell,” Eames groaned and lay back for a moment on the bed but then remembered where he was and that he was still taking up Arthur's bed and the poor guy was probably exhausted. Eames felt outwards tentatively and then grimaced when he could sense the definite twinges in Arthur's back. He would fix that as soon as he started feeling human again and not like his head was going to cave in. “Am I… oh bugger, am I taking your bed?”

“S’okay, really,” Arthur tried to reassure him even though it was a blatant lie and even went as far as to shove Eames back down when he made to get up. “I was just about to make some very manly chilli so you should just lay back, rest a bit and then we can eat something and see how we go from there.”

“Oh, okay,” Eames agreed, hoping the growl his stomach had given out at the mention of food wasn't heard. He felt something warm in his chest at the prospect of being cared for. It had been a long time.

“So,” Arthur said, obviously trying to sound nonchalant and missing spectacularly. “How come Saito is your in case of guy?”

“Oh, right. Um, I guess I should’ve told you that we were together. I mean, he doesn’t like me telling anyone because he’s worried how it’ll look and it's really cliché to be sleeping with your student but he’s not taking advantage of me or anything,” Eames explained, knowing that he was eventually going to have to bite the bullet and tell Arthur. They were... friends he supposed and a relationship with his lecturer would be a hard thing to hide. Plus he didn't really feel the need to hide anything from Arthur.

He was starting to trust the guy and it was odd but nice.

The line of Arthur's back stiffened and Eames frowned. "Oh yeah?" Arthur said and his tone was funny, almost strangled. Eames sighed and lay back down, tossing an arm over his face. It probably didn't sound or look great from the outside and now Eames was forced to study it like that, he was left wondering if maybe it wasn't. He felt the need to defend it anyway because it was a choice he'd made and Saito was good to him most of the time and had never judged him for what he was.

“He’s really great and he… did they call him? Does he know?” Eames couldn't believe that it was Arthur that had brought up Saito when he'd been missing for days and Saito would probably be sick with worry.

“Oh, uh, no. I don’t think so. I said I could take you home so they didn’t worry.”
“I bet he’s frantic. Would you drop by his office tomorrow and let him know I’m okay if I’m not up and around?” Eames asked, still feeling a little strange to have not been that concerned about Saito. He'd pretty much relaxed as soon as he'd first seen Arthur.

“You don’t want to call him?” Arthur asked and Eames shook his head.

“He only ever calls me. He says it’s too risky for me to call him outside of school, you know? For both of us.” Eames quickly tacked on, because once again, saying it out loud made it appear worse than it was.

Arthur smiled gamely but it wasn't a full smile. Eames had seen those and they generally involved dimples. Instead it looked forced and Eames felt a thrill of sadness that Arthur was judging his relationship from the outside and finding it lacking. “Chili’s done and I think I have some rolls left from Thursday that shouldn’t be too hard.”

The smile Arthur offered after he dished out the food was more genuine, like he was pleased that Eames was so thrilled to be eating his food.

000

Arthur left for class and Eames was abandoned to his own devices, still feeling a little too weak to venture out but not sick enough to sleep through the day. Arthur’s dorm room was Spartan to say the least so there wasn’t much in the way of entertainment. Eames ended up paging through a broken-spined copy of Flowers In The Attic and planning all the ways he could tease Arthur about owning it.

He was relieved when Arthur returned and watched Arthur smile in genuine pleasure when he entered his room like he’d forgotten Eames’ presence and it was a nice surprise. Saito often looked pleased to see Eames, but never like his world was just a little bit brighter for Eames being in it.

Eames made a deal with himself to stop making comparisons because therein lay disaster.

Arthur dug into his backpack as Eames kicked his feet. He was feeling better that afternoon and was about to beg his leave when Arthur unearthed a folded piece of paper. He handed it over with no real preamble and Eames was truly surprised to see it was a note from Saito.

Get better soon, love S.

Eames knew it was a little pathetic to be so ridiculously pleased by this smallest of all gestures but he couldn’t help it. “I’ve never seen him commit anything to paper. Usually he’s so careful,” Eames said and glanced at Arthur, taking in his strange expression, feeling yet again like his relationship was being judged and poorly at that. “Wow, mate. Is there like, a store for uptight clothes that you shop at exclusively?” Eames asked, desperate to take that look off Arthur’s face.

Arthur looked down at himself with a little frown like he didn’t even remember what he was wearing. If Eames was honest with himself, in his opinion Arthur looked lovely in his pin-striped pants and sweater vest but Eames also longed to mess him up just a little bit, scrape down his edges and see what was hiding underneath his carefully put together exterior.

He watched Arthur fuss with his clothes for a moment and decided it was his cue to make tracks. He said as much and couldn’t miss the fleeting disappointment that crossed Arthur’s features.

“Why don’t you stay just another day? We can get some air, get a pizza maybe?”

Arthur seemed to sense Eames’ hesitation at the mention of food because he rushed on, “Look, I gotta do some washing. You could keep me company at the all-night down the road. Then we’re even.”

Eames couldn’t help but be charmed by this eccentric boy, eager to please and yet completely unfathomable at the same time. He... enjoyed Arthur, was entertained by him in a way he hadn’t been by anyone in a long time.

He agreed to the outing because there really wasn’t a reason to say no.

Quite frankly, there was nothing he would rather be doing.

000

“You’re not really attached to that particular hat, are you?” Eames asked, herding a protesting Arthur into a recycled clothing store in their way to the Laundromat. Arthur grumbled something about his mother making it again but Eames wouldn’t be swayed.
Arthur was just plain adorable and what the hat did to his head was criminal.

Arthur surrendered the hat after only a few more minutes of prodding and Eames immediately doffed it himself. He didn’t know what it was made of but it was immediately sweltering and Eames felt sweat prickle everywhere it touched his skin. Eames wasn’t going to bin it, he wasn’t that much of a bastard to destroy something someone’s mum had made but he was certainly going to put it in a safe enough place that Arthur would likely never see it again unless he made a truly monumental effort to find it.

“You could’ve at least taken this off the top.” Eames said, tugging at the misshapen woollen ball that was the hat’s crowning glory. “I mean, what were you thinking?” Eames asked as he spied a shelf full of hats and made for them.

“I don’t know. I think the pom-pom was vital to the hat’s structural integrity,” Arthur said from behind him, sounding dubious about his argument himself. Eames found what looked like a completely inoffensive black beanie amongst a gathered array of nasties that would rival Arthur’s current hat for ugliness and tossed it over. Arthur actually looked pleased with Eames’ find right up until he turned the hat on his hand and Eames could see the words Gangsta Gal picked out in flowing pink stitching along the bottom edge of the beanie.

“Sorry, I didn’t even see that. But it’s the only non-ugly in the bunch,” Eames defended when Arthur looked like he thought maybe he was the brunt of a joke.

“I can’t see how wearing this would be better than that,” Arthur pointed out, indicating with a sweep of his hand his own former hat still perched on Eames’ head and Eames could only agree. His aim was to find something that was less likely to get Arthur beaten up in the street, not more.

Not to be swayed, Eames dug in his own bag for a moment and came up with something he had almost forgotten he had. He snatched the hat back, rolled the bottom to hide the writing and then pinned it with a space invader badge he couldn’t even remember getting. He took Arthur by the shoulders and turned him so he was facing a mirror propped behind them and Arthur blinked in what Eames supposed was surprise.

He’d gone from adorable to criminally adorable and Eames smirked at Arthur’s reflection. “Now, what about this?” Eames asked, fisting hands in Arthur’s sweater vest and pulling it out. He was pretty sure he could fit a family of four underneath it with room to spare and Arthur smacked his hands away before Eames could even find any actual Arthur under the layers.

“What have you got under here anyway?”

“How about we take this one step at a time?” Arthur implored, retreating and looking uncomfortable.

“Alright, fine,” Eames said, paying the shop assistant on their way out with the change he was able to scrounge from his pockets.

000

Robert Fischer was emerging from Saito’s office when Eames approached the next day. Eames made to simply brush past him, still not feeling one hundred percent but Fischer moved to block his path, smiling.

“Office hours are finished,” Robert said smugly and Eames rolled his eyes.

“He’ll make time for me, I’m sure,” Eames grumbled and when he moved sideways, Robert did likewise.

“Oh I’m sure he does,” Robert said with a raised eyebrow and a once-over that left Eames feeling mildly dirty.

“Usually I would be all over this but today how about you just bugger off,” Eames said, giving up on trying to simply barge past Robert and instead crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes. “Or do you want me to rearrange that pretty face of yours?”

“Always the ruffian,” Robert sniffed. “Why are you even here?”

“I have an essay question, not that it’s any of your business,” Eames said, not liking the mean look on Robert’s face one bit.

“Not at Saito’s office, at this school?” Robert clarified with an expansive wave of his hand. “You’ve got to know that your diploma will be nothing more than a pretty piece of paper.” At these words, Robert reached out and tapped fingers on the trailing edge of one of Eames’ tattoos before Eames could flinch out of his way. “No one wants to hire a barely tamed junkyard dog.”

Eames was left speechless, which didn’t happen very often. He remembered the words of the bored woman at the Financial Aid office on campus.

Not everyone who is accepted can go to this school.

Except he knew what she really meant.

Not everyone who is accepted should go to this school.

Eames knew it was true, that magic had always been the realm of the wealthy, the powerful. His natural aptitude meant he had little choice in the vocation he ultimately pursued, but his entire academic career had been the same, people watching him, waiting for him to give in, give up.

Eames was floored that a complete and utter twat like Robert Fischer could still pierce through to his very softest places and draw blood.

Eames retreated, feeling mortified to do so but knowing that he just wasn’t up to a confrontation quite like the one they were heading for. He knew if he ended up decking Robert Fischer, which to be honest was where it was heading, no one would listen to his side of the story.

He wasn’t even positive that Saito would stick up for him.

Eames escaped and before he knew it, he was heading towards Arthur’s dorm and tried not to look too closely at what that said about his feelings for the intriguing, sharp-featured boy. He stopped for pizza on the way and tried not to feel too pathetic about needing a prop.

Arthur looked startled but pleased to see him when Eames knocked on his door and Eames was about to tell him about his terrible, horrible day when he spied something on Arthur’s bed. “Is that-?”

Arthur practically launched himself across the room, snatching up the item and hunching over it protectively. “It’s my new Spellbook Pro. I’ve had it for like, two whole minutes.”

“What do you think I’m going to do to it?” Eames asked, more amused than hurt at Arthur’s obvious discomfort. Having stayed in Arthur’s dorm room, he knew Arthur had little in the way of personal possessions and so it would be a big thing for him to have something so flashy.

"I don't know. Break it or... make it all sticky or something,” Arthur grumbled and Eames only just managed to bite into his lower lip to stop his delighted laugh. Arthur must have mistaken his expression for genuine hurt and immediately handed over the spelltop with a nervous face. “Fine,” he huffed, probably trying for exasperated but Eames wasn’t buying it.

Eames grinned in triumph, dropped the pizza onto the nearest flat surface and settled on Arthur’s bed with the spelltop balanced carefully. The spelltop had some rudimentary security that Arthur had probably installed himself or was a factory setting that almost made Eames laugh. “Bloody security,” Eames said, rebooting the spelltop when it shut itself down in a final attempt at preservation. He easily bypassed the security on his second attempt with a backdoor hack and an incantation he’d made up himself that he used to get free internet time at the library.

"Just for once, would it be so terrible if something liked me best?" Arthur protested and Eames smiled to himself.

"Got that covered," he said without even thinking about it.

A loud knock at the door had Arthur crossing to it. Eames watched as Arthur’s whole frame tensed and he tried to block the doorway with it when he opened the door, as hopeless as that attempt was. “What do you want?” he growled to whoever was disturbing them, sounding the most unfriendly and harassed that Eames had ever heard him.

A tall guy shouldered Arthur out of the doorway with little regard for when Arthur stumbled and Eames stood, making sure to set the spelltop aside carefully. Eames couldn’t believe he had put his run-in with Robert Fischer out of his mind so easily just by the mere soothing presence of Arthur but was only too happy to channel his remembered anger somewhere that wasn’t so futile.

“Alright mate?” Eames growled. He often tried to hide the fact that he was broad and inked but on some occasions it was an advantage. Eames was all too aware that he could cut a menacing figure if he needed to. The tall guy didn’t seem fazed however which was unusual. He was looking between Eames and Arthur, clearly pleased about something.

A dark haired guy appeared behind the tall one and suddenly the small room seemed even smaller. Before Eames could get his hackles up properly though, the dark haired guy was speaking. "Arthur, you might be a dweeby little fucker but you're also a genius. We transferred into Saito's class and he gave us the same deal as you."

Arthur, when Eames finally dragged his attention from their intruders to him, had gone remarkably pale. Eames blinked and said slowly, “What deal?”

"Oh man, it's perfect. I didn't realise you guys had come up with this together," the tall guy all but babbled. "Now all we gotta do for next year is pick classes with desperate and lonely lecturers, Eames can seduce them and we can all sail through."

Eames felt his focus narrow down to a very specific point. Namely, Arthur. "Arthur, what are these two gentlemen talking about?"

"You and Saito. Arthur went to him and got him to give him the next test paper so he'd keep quiet about you two doing the nasty. We didn't know he had it in him," the dark haired guy explained, sounding bizarrely impressed.

Arthur shot out a hand, his mouth open and face aghast but Eames couldn’t hear anything. There was a strange rushing noise in his skull that blocked everything out and he had to get away. Eames had only lost control maybe three times in his life and he knew he was very close right then, that he might hurt someone if he didn’t retreat.

"You'll let us know, right?" he heard called after his retreating back as he ducked out of Arthur’s room and down the hallway. He was out in the fresh air before he knew it and spun, sprinting and deaf to the protests that followed him as he barged through milling students.

Eames finally stopped running when he was on a street he didn’t recognise. He leaned over his knees and just breathed, feeling power hum beneath his skin, trying to quell the urge to let it loose, directionless and brutal. He heard his mother’s voice whenever he was at his lowest and right now she was berating him for being so stupendously blind.

This is why you can’t have nice things.

000

“Little bastards. I should just have them disappeared,” Saito was grumbling. He was watching Eames unpack his single bag of meagre belongings into the drawer he’d been assigned. Eames had been surprised when Saito had called and told him he could move in after all.

“If I’m paying for you, I might as well have you full time,” Saito had said, making Eames almost tell him to go right ahead and stuff his offer up his arse but Eames swallowed his pride and didn’t miss the relieved smile Mal gave him when he said he was moving on.

He was going to be a burden no matter where he was so he might as well be comfortable and not under anyone’s feet.

“So they actually just came to your office and said they would turn you in if you didn’t deal?” Eames asked, still trying to wrap his head around the whole situation. He knew it was stupid, but he had trouble reconciling the Arthur he knew with someone who would do that. He supposed it was more hurt than common sense that was fighting the notion.

“Yes,” Saito said, sounding exasperated. “Kids today and all that. No respect.”

“Well, hell. I just didn’t think Arthur had it in him,” Eames sighed, accepting a pillow Saito tossed in his direction and a cover for it. While he had the pillow tucked under his chin and was dragging the cover over the end, Saito made a contemplative noise.

“Not that Arthur kid, no,” he said, watching as Eames tossed his pillow on his side of the bed. Saito always slept on the right without exception and had pillows made especially for him, stuffed with seed from a mountainside or some such nonsense. Eames probably would have thought it a caring gesture that Saito had gotten a different pillow for him but now he suspected Saito just didn’t want him sleeping on the expensive ones.

“What?” Eames asked.

“No, that kid came to my office, all full of prickly pride. Told me he wouldn’t take the exam I’d given him before, that he wanted his grade honestly.”

“He did?” Eames asked, feeling relieved that he hadn’t misjudged Arthur quite so badly.

“It’s a pity really. He could have used the grade bump. He’s not going to pass.”

“What, why?”

“I’m not going to forgive substandard work just because he doesn’t indulge in blackmail,” Saito tutted, shaking his head like he thought maybe Eames was particularly dense for even entertaining the idea.

“Not everyone who gets in should actually be going to that school,” Saito added and Eames swallowed hard.

000

Eames smiled to himself after Arthur notched up his sixth apology in an hour. If Arthur hadn’t looked so pathetically despondent, Eames might have laughed at the comical surprise on Arthur’s face when he turned up to his dorm room and asked him out for a sandwich.

“Arthur, I’m not trying to punish you. I just think you need clothes that are a tad more... casual,” Eames said, hooking a friendly arm around Arthur’s neck and dragging him down the street. He skipped the recycled shops this time, feeling in the mood to be ridiculously decadent with Saito’s credit card burning a hole in his wallet.

He had to practically bully Arthur into a shop with trendy t-shirts and distressed jeans on the mannequins in the window and had a shop girl help him pile a selection into Arthur’s arms before herding him into the changing rooms.

Eames grew impatient merely waiting outside and flung back the curtain when Arthur had a shirt still hooked halfway over his head, his torso bare. Eames was about to demand he hurry up when he actually noticed the bared midriff and the fact that under his layers Arthur was lean and pale skinned with a fine layer of muscle. Eames’ mouth went dry. “Holy crap,” he blurted involuntarily.

“What?” Arthur said, voice muffled by the shirt still wrapped around his head.

“No, I just... I had no idea you were hiding that,” Eames said slowly and actually had a hand out, wanting nothing more than to feel the play of Arthur’s skin over his ribs under his fingers when he suddenly remembered himself and snatched his hand back, tucking it securely under his opposite arm for good measure.

Eames swallowed thickly and then grinned. "So c'mon. Hurry up and give me a fashion show when you're done,” he said, backing out of the changing room fast and seeing the shop girl smirk behind her hand when he emerged.

000

Eames thought living with Saito would make him feel better about the relationship, like everything would become more solid. Instead what Eames started feeling like was kept.

Plus, there was always an endless array of tasks that needed doing that Saito was too busy for.

Eames received a spelltooth as an unexpected gift and even before he could be grateful for it or pleased by the surprise, Saito started prattling on about how easy it would be to contact Eames for last minute errands with it and Eames threw the box across the room in a fit of pique as soon as Saito left.

He immediately rushed over and checked it wasn’t broken and hated himself just a little for how relieved he was that it wasn’t.

What he found hardest and which surprised him and probably shouldn’t have was that he barely got to see Arthur. He felt weird about dropping in on his dorm room now that he lived with Saito and whenever he did catch a glimpse of Arthur across campus, he was always rushing somewhere with his head down.

Eames had dropped Contagious Magic because even he could see the conflict in interest and so he didn’t even get to see Arthur in class.

Whenever he had a spare moment, which wasn’t often the way Saito had him dashing around, he took to staking out places he knew Arthur frequented, hoping for a casual encounter. On a Sunday more than a month after their impromptu shopping trip, Eames was almost ready to give up on the little cafe Arthur had once told him was his favourite after having downed four coffees in quick succession when he spotted Arthur turning away from the counter, having been camouflaged by a group of giggling girls at the condiment stand.

Arthur looked torn for a moment, almost like he wanted to flee but Eames didn’t give him the opportunity, not at all embarrassed to show his pleasure at this unexpected sighting on his face. Eames hurriedly shoved aside marking he’d been doing for Saito and carelessly set aside the spellbook Saito had lent him so Arthur would have room to set down his plate of Danish and his own cup of coffee. "Hey, you mentioned you come here sometimes and I thought I'd try it."

Arthur opened his mouth, a frown creasing his features and right at that moment Eames’ spelltooth buzzed to life, jittering across the table. Eames thought about ignoring it but he finally picked it up and clipped it to his ear.

“Where the hell are you? You were supposed to be back three hours ago!” Saito was already yelling when Eames picked up.

“I was just-“

“How much longer are you going to be?” Saito demanded.

“Only half an hour or so,” Eames grumbled, feeling Arthur’s hot gaze on the side of his face. He brought his shoulders up around his ears, feeling embarrassed to be screamed at like an errant child.

“Have you picked up everything on the list?” Saito demanded.

“No-“ Eames started.

“Do you think you can manage to do so this century?” Saito growled, his tone one of exasperation.

“Yes, I was going to,” Eames snapped.

“Don’t forget the-“

“No, I wasn’t going to forget,” Eames said quickly and tapped the phone to break the connection. He looked to Arthur and possibly Arthur looking carefully away was worse than any judgemental expression he could’ve been wearing. "There's a lot of pressure on Saito, especially because of me," Eames said, the excuse sounding hollow to his own ears.

“Uhuh,” Arthur said neutrally, still not meeting Eames’ gaze.

Eames took a deep breath and seized the opportunity of having Arthur actually in his immediate vicinity. "Oh hey, so listen. They're doing a play called Extraction at that little theatre that The World Of The Dream was on at. I know it's not supposed to be as gory but could be fun?" Eames blurted in a rush, smiling to himself because he was reminded of the first time Arthur asked him.

"I don't think I can," Arthur said and his voice was like his expression, neutral, removed. Before Eames could be truly pathetic and ask Arthur if he was sure, Arthur said, "I meant to get this to go because my sister's in town and I stood her up last time so..."

Eames grimaced, remembering that he was the reason Arthur had had to miss his sister’s last visit. Eames watched Arthur gather his things and absolutely hated the way he could actually feel the space between them grow wider.

"Oh, yeah sure. Just... let me know if you change your mind," he said quickly, making to gather his own things.

Right before he left, Arthur turned back and Eames paused, not quite knowing what to make of Arthur’s resolved expression. “It’s just, I don’t want to be your friend,” Arthur said and it was so unexpected that Eames felt gut punched. He wanted to make a joke, say something like you can’t break up with me when I don’t remember us dating but it was exactly what it felt like, all the times people Eames had cared about backing carefully away from him to save themselves.

“I don’t want to be just your friend,” Arthur clarified, a half-grimace pulling his mouth sideways and Eames’ gaze snapped to him. “I don’t think it’s fair on either of us for me to hang around and gather up any crumbs of attention you can spare me. I have to move on... I need to move on. I’m really sorry if you think this is selfish but for once I’m going to have to be that, selfish.”

Eames watched Arthur disappear through a group that had just pushed into the cafe, too stunned to move. Arthur had said a lot but a few very precious words kept circling Eames’ brain like water around a drain, giving Eames hope that not all was lost.

I don’t want to be just your friend.

000

Saito was at the apartment when Eames returned, pacing like a caged animal. “Finally,” he snapped and then took note of Eames’ empty hands except for the spelltop bag and paperwork. “Is this some kind of joke?”

“Not at all,” Eames said, shoving the paperwork and bag into Saito’s own arms, who looked too surprised to resist. Eames moved into the bedroom and started packing his things, knowing it was something he should have done long ago.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Saito demanded, having dumped his arm load onto the couch and following Eames into the bedroom.

“Being selfish,” Eames said with a grin at his packed bag.

000

Eames camped out beside Arthur’s dorm room door with a large pizza and his bag, ignoring the strange looks he got from the other residents on the floor. One small girl with brown hair and a long scarf paused beside him and hunkered down.

“Eames, right?” she said with narrowed eyes and Eames nodded slowly, suddenly feeling very nervous. “If you’re here to do anything but push Arthur down and ravish him within an inch of his little life, then you’d better leave now because I happen to be a Necromancer and I need a body for my Final.” The girl leaned right up into Eames’ space. “I’m not above making my own even though they frown on that type of thing.”

“Ravish, yes, absolutely,” Eames said quickly, nodding and not really caring that he probably looked like an over eager idiot.

The girl moved back out of his space, contemplated him for another few minutes before she also nodded. “Great, good for you to finally get your head out of your ass,” she said with a sunny grin and a smack to his shoulder that hurt way more than it should have considering her tiny frame.

When she left, Eames dragged his legs up so he could rest his chin on his knees.

He wasn’t hugging himself in terror, not one little bit.

000

The next thing he knew, Eames was being prodded awake, his neck a stiff line of pain at having fallen asleep sitting up. Eames blinked and Arthur’s puzzled face slowly resolved itself into focus in front of him. “Hey,” he said muzzily.

"Hi. Um, what are you doing here?"

"I've been an idiot," Eames blurted, allowing Arthur to pull him upright and immediately stepping on the pizza box. "More so than usual apparently.”

"How in this particular instance?"

"Saito treated me like his PA, even in his house," Eames said and could’ve kicked himself for even mentioning Saito when Arthur’s expression darkened.

"So, why are you here?" Arthur pressed.

"I like you, everything about you. I was just too dumb to realise it. Even the uptight sweaters are starting to seem charming. I even like that I haven't seen you once wear anything we bought together," Eames admitted, reaching out to grasp a hand in Arthur’s latest too-uptight ensemble.

"They're all casual clothes. I didn't want to waste them at school or risk them getting destroyed when Nash and Epsom inevitably staple or glue or jinx me to something," Arthur grumbled and Eames laughed, but sobered quickly when Arthur’s face, that had been slowly creeping open with hope, closed down again. "Look, I don't want to be the lesser of two evils.”

"You're not!" Eames said, hating that it had taken him so long to realize that very thing. "When I was with Saito it was a secret and it was so thrilling that I didn't see how bad it was. You on the other hand, you're nice and funny and hiding an amazing body under the fifteen million layers you wear."

"I don't want to be a safe alternative either," Arthur said, sounding like he wanted to find a reason why this just shouldn’t be and Eames knew that he was wasting time trying to talk Arthur around when there was a much easier way to convince Arthur that his intentions were anything but noble or sympathetic.

Eames grabbed Arthur’s face and yanked him forward, not so much kissing as mauling Arthur with his mouth. Messy, impatient and perfect. When they broke apart, Eames could see his own grin reflected on Arthur’s face.

"You were never the alternative. What I didn't see was that you were the only option for me," Eames said, gathering Arthur close and knowing he was never going to be stupid enough to let him go.

Never again.