Again, Mr Eames?

arthur-ity:

Arthur was not charmed. He was never charmed by Eames and never would be. So he certainly didn’t suppress a smile and nod at the line.

He sighed and side-stepped Eames to flip the music off (strictly against res life policy: never touch a resident’s possessions). “There are better ways to keep me around, Mr Eames. Hall programs, for instance. Signing up for one on ones.”

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"Hall programs mean I have to share you with other people. And one on ones… well, I actually don’t have a reason other than I really don’t want to sign up for your time. I’d rather just get your attention more creatively. Why follow the given path when you can choose your own?"

He grinned a little more, quirking a brow at the nearly open door and he thought for a moment what it might be like to close it before he looks back to Arthur. Arthur’s eyes crinkled at the edges when he manages a smile and Eames is quite certain it’s the most lovely thing he has ever seen.

"Now that you’re here, why not stay?"

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Again, Mr Eames?

arthur-ity:

The ceiling is rattling from Beethoven. Well, maybe not. But it certain feels like his eardrums are about to burst. “I don’t…” He tries again, louder. “I don’t need to. Just turn the music down, Mr Eames.”

He resolutely does not look lower than his eyes. Last time he accidentally caught a glimpse of what Eames looked like in a low-slung towel and he still regrets it. A week ago his eyes ventured lower than Eames’ and fixated on his lips. Marlon Brando would get collagen implants for those lips.

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"I hardly think that my music is offending anyone at all." He grinned wolfishly, "Cept you, of course." 

He leans back and slowly turns into the room; it is a collection of Jackson Pollock posters and old socks, which look like they’re crawling to hide underneath the bed. He doesn’t motion to the stereo and his roommate, poor, poor Chris Hughes spends most of his time in Dustin Maskovitz’ bed so effectively, he has a single. 

"Besides, it keeps you around so really, it’s only in my favor, darling."

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Again, Mr Eames?

arthur-ity:

Arthur hated to say it, but he sometimes looked forward to his weekly duty round through Kirkland. It wasn’t that he enjoyed confiscating beer pong tables or forcing annoying residents to dump their beer cans. (If people were going to break the rules, they should at least be creative about it.)

But he did, sometimes, enjoy seeing what sort of trouble Eames could get into. He was never tedious or boring about his trouble. That was the only reason he looked forward to duty rounds. The only reason. And the RAs enjoyed that he dressed up for rounds. It’s a funny bit.

Really. Eames usually did something that Arthur had to smother a laugh at. Like painting a full mural on the floor’s wall. Like stealing toilet paper.

Eames doesn’t disappoint tonight. He’s blaring Für Elise at top volume. It’s not technically quiet hours, but Arthur can hear him from the first floor. He knocks a few times and fixes Eames with a “Really? Really?” expression.

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The best part of Arthur is that he is punctual. And his ass in his trousers. Quite nice, really, but mostly it is his punctuality that Eames adores. Every night at 10 PM, he can always count on the darling to knock three times and with all sorts of predictability, he’ll amend a problem and leave. And Eames gets him for five to ten minutes, every single night.

Eames tilts his head back to the wire of a man, leaning against the door frame in nothing but his most comfortable of attire: nothing but boxer briefs. “Ello, love.” He grins, barely heard over the music, “Care to step in? 

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I now have a snapchat. Honestly, I’m already bored.

arthur-ity:

There are.image

Ah, well, now that that is clear, I completely understand. Apologies. 

Though I’m rather hurt I’m not ‘one of many.’

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I now have a snapchat. Honestly, I’m already bored.

arthur-ity:

And Espinoza. 

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With so many men in your life, I’m certain there is never a dull moment. Now if only there were living people involved

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I now have a snapchat. Honestly, I’m already bored.

arthur-ity:

mage

That is amongst the saddest things I’ve ever heard.

Coming from someone who spends their friday evenings with Proust, Faust or many other men who are long dead? 

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Alright…

arthur-ity:

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I’m looking forward to your graduation, Eames.

Darling, I know we can’t date while I’m enrolled, but try to mask your excitement.

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I now have a snapchat. Honestly, I’m already bored.

forwardo:

I have one too! 

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Though…I’m not totally sure how it works…

When I figured out how it works, I immediately became bored…. sounds like most of my romantic relationships.

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Alright…

arthur-ity:

…seriously, who has been using my whiteboard to draw nudes of me?

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I find the one of you strewn out on the lounge sofa quite tasteful

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I now have a snapchat. Honestly, I’m already bored.

It was supposed to remedy the boredom. What can I do now? Study? The mere suggestion..

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