Chapter Text
The last few days of term are such a rush that Eames hardly has time to think about his impending visit to Arthur's family's house. But the moment he hands in his last portfolio of the year, the panic comes crashing down over his ears.
He texts Arthur: [can u talk?]
Arthur replies: [Almost home, call you when I get there]
Arthur rings him back within 20 minutes.
"What's up?"
"I'm having a bit of an anxiety attack, darling. I think it's only just occurred to me that this is reality and that I'll be flying to your house tomorrow. All this time, I was looking forward to seeing you at the end of term and not really thinking it through to meeting your parents as well. I'm suddenly bloody terrified."
Arthur laughs. Bless him.
Eames is well aware that he's being a bit of a prat right now, whinging about meeting Arthur's by all accounts very nice parents when Arthur has already done the vastly more difficult thing in coming out to them and in insisting that Eames be allowed to stay at their home for a few days. Eames is on the verge of tears every time he so much as thinks about it, but that doesn't mean he isn't frightened right now all the same.
"It'll be OK," Arthur says, although he doesn't sound absolutely certain himself. "I mean, Heather loved you from the minute she met you. They'll come around."
"Just ... just promise me that even if they hate me, you'll still love me," Eames says, his voice small and scared-sounding in his own ears.
"I promise," Arthur replies, solemn. "But I really don't think they'll hate you. It might be ... weird. But they won't hate you."
If Arthur's parents dislike him, Eames doubts it will be at all personal, and more to do with him representing proof of their darling son not turning out quite as they'd hoped. But it's possible he's projecting that onto the Millers from his own parents, so he keeps quiet. He doesn't want to drag Arthur down into his own fears. It wouldn't be fair.
Arthur had phoned him after telling his parents the truth and his voice had been all shaky and his thoughts scattered and repetitive. Eames had thought him the bravest person on earth. Then Arthur had rung again a few hours later and been very, very drunk after his minx of a sister had taken him out, God knows where, to celebrate with a bottle of whiskey.
Eames still can't quite believe that he's lucky enough to have someone who will face these most-terrifying things for him.
Feeling chastened, he says: "I'll do my very best to be likable for you, darling."
"Don't worry so much. We'll figure it out. I wouldn't have invited you here if I thought it was going to be a disaster, you know."
"I know ... it's just. I really don't want to cock this up. I really don't want to feel ... " he trails off, unable to say what he means, even to Arthur.
"Rejected," Arthur supplies. Trust him to have Eames' number at all times. "Believe me, I get that. When I told them, it was ... the only time I've been anywhere close to that terrified was when I came to your cabin window that first time at camp."
Eames laughs.
"I hope they were easier on you than I was. God I was such a knob."
"No, you were great. It was ... everything started that night, because you were so honest with me. I ... don't you think it kind of set the precedent for everything between us?"
Eames' chest is warm. When he gets like this, he feels he can do anything. He'll just have to maintain it through tomorrow evening when he meets Arthur's parents.
His stomach rumbles just then, and Eames remembers than he hasn't eaten a proper meal in fuck knows how long and that he should probably get some sleep if he wants to appear at least half presentable to Arthur's family tomorrow.
"What time do you parents get home?" he asks.
"What, tomorrow? They'll be there by the time you land."
"No today. I was wondering if I went to have an early supper now whether you'd be free to help me, um, fall asleep later?"
Arthur laughs.
"Always," he says. "Although I honestly don't think you actually need it."
"Perhaps not, but I do want it," Eames replies.
Honestly, Eames is ready to go right now, just from hearing Arthur's little intake of breath in response to his request. But the prudent part of his brain knows he needs to eat now or he'll wake up famished in the middle of the night and disrupt his sleep yet again. Anyway, it's not like Arthur won't get him all worked up again in two seconds when they're back on the phone. And the anticipation will be sweet.
"How about ... " Arthur responds, and Eames can hear him grinning through the line; Arthur likes to pretend to negotiate about these things, although they both know that there is really no losing when it comes to phone sex. "How about you order some food on your computer and stay on the phone with me now. I'll make it last until the delivery guy arrives."
Eames shivers at the promise in Arthur's voice. And fumbles as he opens his laptop to order from his favourite curry house nearby.
He chats to Arthur about his final projects as he places the order. He was thrilled with how the last one came out, much better than he'd anticipated at the start of term, but is still kicking himself for his life drawing portfolio not ending up quite as he'd hoped. Even after he's ordered, he lets himself natter on for a bit, relaxing into the easy flow of conversation, trying to force himself to forget about his anxieties for the time being.
"I'm going to duck out of school early Friday," Arthur tells him, somewhat out of the blue, considering how hard Eames is concentrating on not thinking about his visit just now. "It'll probably be our only chance at really being alone together, since my mom will be home all weekend and my dad's shop will be closed on Monday and then you'll be leaving."
Eames gulps.
"Thinking about your parents isn't helping me relax, Arthur."
Arthur laughs.
"What I mean is that I can't stop thinking about having you alone in my room for the afternoon."
Eames feels his heart rate pick up and his prick starting to harden. He's about to ask what Arthur plans to do to him once they're alone in Arthur's bedroom, when he's struck with the realization that this may be the last time he and Arthur do this, on the phone, at least for a very long time. Once he leaves the Miller family's house, he'll go home and Arthur's mobile won't be able to reach him there. And then they'll be at camp. And then they'll be in Chicago together. Well, technically speaking, Eames will be in Chicago and Arthur Evanston, but essentially the same place.
Typically of himself, Eames feels nostalgic for a moment even before its passed. He wants to make this special. Memorable.
They haven't spoken much of what happened at the end of Arthur's last visit. Not in a sexy context anyway. On his last night, the day after they'd had proper sex for the first time, Eames had tried to return the favor--just a bit--and introduce Arthur to fingering. But it had been a disaster. Arthur hadn't taken to it at all and Eames had felt like such a dreadful failure and had desperately wanted to fix things by letting Arthur fuck him again, but he'd been too sore to get past foreplay himself.
Although Arthur had remained smiling and jovial throughout the whole business, Eames had been sulky all evening. In an attempt to soothe, Arthur had put the whole thing in Eames' hands, told him that he could decide when, if ever, they did it again, and that he wouldn't bring it up unless Eames did first. Eames had been so embarrassed by it all that he's mostly just avoided the whole thing ever since.
But it's not as if he doesn't want Arthur to fuck him again. He does. Very badly. Preferably on this trip, if at all possible. It sounds as if Friday afternoon will be their only chance.
So he reaches into his suitcase and pulls out his little tub of petroleum jelly.
"Mmmmm … now I'm thinking about it, too," he says. "I can't wait to see where you sleep at night. I think I know what I'd like to happen in there, too."
"Oh yeah?"
Eames wiggles his jeans down over his hips and kicks them down his legs.
"Yeah."
"Well are you going to tell me? Or make me guess?"
"I don't think this is something you'd guess."
He hears Arthur gasp a bit through the line.
"Oh? Why not?"
"You promised you wouldn't bring it up until I did first," Eames says plainly.
Arthur groans.
"I've got something here with me, should I use it to finger myself open and imagine it's you doing it?"
"Oh fuck … yes, please do that. Please."
Eames switches his mobile to speaker and sets it on his chest, drawing his knees up and sliding a finger into himself, exhaling a little louder than he ordinarily might, to ensure Arthur hears it.
"Tell me," Arthur gasps. "Tell me how you feel. What you feel."
"I feel warm. Tight. I haven't done this in weeks. I should have been practicing for you."
Arthur exhales a strong puff of air and then inhales a deep breath.
"Fuck. Oh God, Eames. No … I mean, it doesn't matter. I will open you up for as long as it takes if that's what you need, if that's what you want. Tell me again, is that really what you want? Tell me … "
Eames still has a lot of questions about how they're going to work this between them longterm, but they don't really matter, not now. He does want to do it again. He knows they can figure it out. He knows that his body wants to feel Arthur in that way again, inside him.
"Yes, yes Arthur," he says, slipping in a second finger, playing with his foreskin with his other hand. "I want to feel you. Want to feel your fingers inside me again. It's so different to my own, so much better. Never felt like that before … before you did it … "
Arthur is making little strangled noises now, ones Eames recognizes to mean he's close to coming.
"Not yet, Arthur. Wait. There's more … I want … I want … "
"What do you want? Tell me," Arthur demands, voice clearer and stronger, probably leaving off touching himself until Eames finishes first.
Eames starts stroking himself properly, no more playful toying around.
"I … to feel you. More than just your fingers. I want … you to be inside me. Your prick. Oh Arthur … I … I … I know you can make it feel so good for me. I know you can … Tell me … tell me what you'll do … "
Arthur is breathing hard again.
"I'll … I'll … I'll go so slow with my fingers, twisting them and curling them … just how you like … make you arch off the bed, so fucking hot, oh God, you don't know how you look like that, stretched all tight like a bow … I want to make you feel so good, Eames, and I'll keep going … as long as you need, until you come, after even. And then when you're ready, I'll slide inside, so slow. I … I want to look at you, face to face, see your eyes light up when I find that spot … ohhhhhhh … Eames I … I … I want to watch you fall apart, make you scream … I fuck … fuck, Eames … I'm gonna … I can't … I ..."
"It's OK, darling, me too, me too" Eames says and really lets Arthur hear it as he shatters apart into a million pieces, come coating his stomach, some even hitting the wall next to his head.
He lets out a long, low growl afterward.
"Fuuuuuuck, Arthur. That was bloody amazing. Christ."
Arthur's voice is ragged when he replies with a drawn out curse of his own.
They stay silent for a moment then, just letting their brains come back online, their breathing normalize.
"I can't wait to see you tomorrow," Arthur says, finally.
"I can't believe it's really happening."
"Me neither. I'll be waiting for you at baggage claim. I finally convinced my parents to let me pick you up alone, so we'll have the whole drive back just us before you have to meet them. A buffer."
"That's good. Thank you. I promise to do my very best, darling."
"You'll be great. Don't worry so much."
"Ha! Well I'll try not to. … Bugger my food is here. Must dash. Thank you so much for that."
"No thank you Eames, seriously. That was … amazing. And … just so you … I know that wasn't a promise, OK. If you change your mind about any of that, it's OK. You know that, right? I wouldn't mind at all."
Warmth floods Eames' chest again. His boyfriend is the most-considerate man in the world. He really is.
"I love you so much, darling. I really do."
"I love you too, Eames. See you tomorrow."
"Not if I see you first," Eames replies, and hears Arthur's answering laughter as he rings off.