Chapter Text
"So do you know his name yet?" Eames stood beside Dom, scanning the crowds of passing spectators and college students alike. The first football game of the school year was being held at their college's stadium, Eames and Dom similarly decked out in Almira College's colours; deep red and black. Eames was already in his football clothes – wanting to look good as the college's quarterback – and Dom was readjusting a strap on his military-style uniform for the drumline.
"I've been told his name is Arthur," Dom informed him, finished fiddling with his uniform and sweeping his eyes across the crowd as well. Dom was centre snare drummer for Almira's drumline but his drum would remain safely stowed in the change rooms until halftime and their performance was approaching. "Sophomore, from what I hear."
"They made a sophomore the centre snare?" Eames snorted. "They must be desperate."
"That's what everyone said last year when they made you quarterback as a sophomore," Dom reminded him. "Maybe you shouldn't underestimate this kid."
"All he needs is a bit of flirting from me and he'll be tripping over himself on the field, just like everyone else," Eames smirked. "It would be unfair if I kept him from my tradition."
"Or for once you could leave the competition alone," Dom sighed, slipping his fingers through his hair as he watched more people filing into the stadium stands. It wouldn't be long now before everyone had to clear the field, and before Eames had to join the rest of his team for final stretches before the game. Still, he had some time.
"I just have a little fun. It's not my fault if they can't handle it and get flustered," Eames said as he headed for one of the tunnels leading off the field and into the building of the stadium. He had noticed some kids in bright blue and white uniforms – a telltale sign for Almira's rival, Crown State College –walking by the tunnel entrance.
Inside the stadium there were hundreds of people all milling about and Eames struggled to keep the blue and white marching uniforms in view as he pushed through people buying food and looking for their seating section. Eames didn't know what Arthur looked like but he knew marching band members stuck close together before performances. By the stadium change rooms designated for visiting players Eames found a larger selection of blue and white, and he was about to ask someone to point him in the direction of Arthur when a boy caught his attention.
A short distance away from the other Crown State kids all knit together in groups chatting before the game began was a boy tucked away in a corner. He had pale skin and black hair he had slicked back away from his eyes. His military-style uniform of blue and white was on, crisp and pressed as it clung to the shape of the boy's lean frame; only the uniform's hat was missing, though Eames was grateful for this since he doubted he could keep a straight face looking at this ridiculously serious student in a funny feathered hat.
As Eames pushed through the crowds and got a full view of the Crown State student Eames could see the snare drum strapped to his front. The boy wielded his drumsticks but was not tapping out a beat. His hands merely twitched minutely as his lips muttered an inaudible rhythm. Eames knew he could be wrong, but he couldn't imagine anyone better suiting the role of nervous sophomore center snare drummer on his first away game.
Eames strode right up to the boy, undeterred when brown eyes remained fixed ahead and did not react to follow Eames' approach. Eames leaned against the concrete wall, beside the boy and well within his personal space. He watched silently for a few moments, watching the barely-noticeable twitch of the drumsticks and the movement of those narrow lips. Then, after a short while and getting rather bored of being ignored, Eames cleared his throat. "Arthur, I presume," he purred, leaning a bit closer.
The boy paused. Eames expected him to relax his hands but instead the boy began his minute drumming again. However, those brown eyes did glance marginally to the side, just enough to catch Eames' gaze. "Can I help you?"
"Are you Arthur?" Eames asked. Not that it wasn't fun flirting in general – Eames had created quite a past-time out of flirting with the boys of rival schools to watch them squirm and fumble – but he didn't have enough time to flirt with every member of the rival team before he had to return to his own team. "The sophomore centre snare?" he added, deepening the purr of his voice.
Arthur barely blinked. "That would be me, yes."
"Well isn't it your lucky day," Eames leaned close enough that he knew Arthur could feel his warm breath against his jaw and ear. It was so easy for Eames to do this, to whisper teasing words in boys' ears. Eames had had his fair share of male lovers and the flirting stage was, in his opinion, the most enjoyable part. Whether his rival targets actually surmised that he was gay or not didn't matter to Eames; he was just trying to put them out-of-sorts long enough to lose the game.
"How so," Arthur asked, though he didn't sound interested enough to voice it as a question.
Looking down, Eames could see that Arthur had begun practicing his drumming again, drumsticks moving against the air on either side of the drum, and Eames knew he would have to try harder. "I happen to have a thing for talented men," he informed Arthur, resting his hand on Arthur's hip.
This close Eames could see the way Arthur's jaw clenched as he tensed, but Arthur didn't pull away. He was a stubborn one, unwilling to back down. Eames felt his determination mounting along with his impatience. "I'm not interested," Arthur said stiffly. The drumsticks still twitched on.
"What's a little fun between rivals? I could make you feel good," Eames leaned closer again, in danger now of brushing his lips against Arthur's jaw. His hand traveled up to Arthur's waist and finally Eames got a response. In a sharp movement Arthur held both drumsticks with one hand and dropped his other hand to grip Eames' wrist. Arthur said nothing but the grip was painful and Eames had to hide his wince as he pulled his hand away. Luckily Arthur let him withdraw.
Not wanting to cower away and admit defeat, Eames shrugged with easy nonchalance and slipped a piece of paper from beneath his cuff that he had already prepared with his name and phone number. Still far beyond Arthur's personal boundaries Eames slotted the piece of paper beneath the silver decorative shoulder pad of Arthur's marching uniform. "You can call me if you change your mind."
Arthur had returned to staring straight ahead and he was again holding out his drumsticks, mentally practicing. It was like Arthur barely registered him. Eames had been turned down before – many times, in fact – and he was accustomed to shrugging it off. Especially since this was all for fun anyway to tease his competition. However, Eames did not enjoy being ignored and with a sudden rush of anger Eames was crowding Arthur aggressively against the wall.
"You should've stayed home today," Eames whispered, his voice still low but no longer welcoming. "Maybe you could've saved a sliver of your pride. Enjoy losing."
"I don't think I'm the one that's losing," Arthur whispered back, voice sharp but calm.
Eames gritted his teeth, pulling back. There wasn't even a hint of a blush on Arthur's pale cheeks. "We'll see what happens on the field," Eames promised and then turned on his heel, heading for his own team's change rooms to cool off before the game. His plan had undoubtedly backfired.
#
The buzzer was sounded for halftime and Eames collapsed gratefully onto his team's bench on the sidelines of the stadium field. The Almira Rangers had kicked ass during the first half of the game; it would take a miracle for Crown State to catch up, let alone beat them. Eames was feeling very pleased with himself, knowing his team was going to beat Arthur's team. Although Eames had managed to calm himself down enough to focus on the game, he couldn't fight the smug satisfaction at knowing he would end up being right about winning over Arthur.
He drank deeply from his water bottle as he watched the Almira Vanguard – their college's marching band – stepping out onto the field in formation. Eames could just imagine Arthur standing in one of the entrance tunnels for the stadium with the rest of his drumline and band; he would probably be quaking in his white boots once he watched Almira's marching band – and Dom, Arthur's direct competition – perform. The thought left Eames grinning all through Almira's performance as the audience was struck by a wall of sound filled with brass and drums.
Eames knew the Almira Vanguard was as skilled as the Almira football team; he had watched Dom practice many times during the summer since they were such close friends from freshman year. Many summer days had gone by when Eames and Mal – Dom's girlfriend – watched Dom practice, or Dom and Mal watched Eames practice before they all went out to their favourite restaurant on campus for dinner. Still, it was impressive watching the Vanguards giving it their all and holding nothing back.
Eames clapped and cheered along with everyone else as the band finished up and moved to the sidelines, offering up the field for the Crown State Cadets. Eames searched the sea of blue and white, looking to see if Arthur was still among his band or if he had bailed. He was still there though, standing tall at the centre of his drumline. Eames had to admire him for that; at least Arthur wouldn't leave his team to flounder alone, even if the defeat would be brutal.
The Cadets began their prepared performance and as the minutes passed by Eames felt his jaw slackening and dropping open. Against his will Eames' body began to sway to the beat, and he noticed that something similar was happening to the rest of his team as well as every spectator in the stand. The music filling the stadium was catchy and bold and the choreography was perfectly rehearsed. Eames caught himself wishing vaguely that he was high in the stands so he could see the formations being created on the field.
Eames found himself again seeking Arthur out in the crowd, wondering how the sophomore was holding up. Was he hiding amongst the rest of his team, letting the more experienced drummers lead, or was he actually performing adequately? Eames found himself oddly disappointed when he couldn't catch more than a glimpse of the centre snare as he moved around the field with the rest of his drumline. It looked like his footwork and drumming skills were good but it was hard to tell from afar.
The performance ended with an overwhelming crescendo of sound and Eames had to consciously stop himself from clapping and cheering a second time. The rest of his football team muttered to each other on the bench, showing their displeasure at having their school's band shown up. Apparently someone else had felt similarly because the Cadets were only halfway off the field when an announcer called for a drumline showdown.
The rest of the Cadets peeled away, heading for the sidelines, while two rows of blue and white – the drumline – remained in place. Eames could see Dom readjusting the strap of his own snare drum and walking down his line, likely calling out a routine they had prepared for these sorts of situations. Then Dom led the two rows of red and black across the field to meet Arthur at the fifty yard mark.
Eames couldn't understand why he was so nervous.
The drummers were close enough now and not hidden by the rest of the marching band so Eames could make everyone out. Dom and the Vanguards started the showdown and Eames watched their footwork and drumming carefully. He wasn't a skilled musician but he had seen Dom and others practice at college enough to know what was good versus bad drumming and showmanship. And as the Almira drumline completed their routine and Eames heard the crowd cheering with excitement he knew there was no way Crown State could win.
And then... Eames was proven wrong. The beat Arthur's drumline brought to life took hold of Eames' heart and controlled his heartbeat, leaving him captive as they stole the stadium's attention. Their movements were sleek and practiced but not flashy; there was something so simple and elegant about the way they moved. Eames would almost swear that the drumline was one person based on how in sync they were. The crowd was roaring its approval.
Not ready to back down, Dom took a step forward, singling himself out from his drumline and calling out Arthur in return for a direct challenge. Arthur took one step forward to match Dom's approach, not going an inch further. It was clear that Arthur would not start a challenge, but also wouldn't ignore one that was thrust upon him.
Dom began his solo and it was impressive but Eames was unable to tear his eyes from Arthur. He watched the boy who looked so much less like a young inexperienced sophomore and so much more like a man deserving respect and awe as he stood patiently and waited for Dom to finish. Dom received cheers for his performance but it was obvious to everyone when Arthur began his response who would be the winner.
Eames had never seen faster drumming skills in his life, each move planned and precise, and each strike of the drumstick to Arthur's drum had Eames energized and burning with a fire he didn't recognize. There was a pregnant pause of silence when Arthur completed his solo, the stadium echoing as the entire audience awaited more – wished for more – and then Arthur moved to hold his drumsticks in resting position. And without any final word from the announcer, Arthur turned from Dom and his whole drumline followed him. Loyal, because hell, why wouldn't they follow someone that skilled? As one the snares, tenor and bass drums, and the cymbals all followed Arthur to the sidelines to rejoin the rest of their band.
The cheers in the stadium were deafening but Eames was suddenly mute to it all, realizing with a start that Arthur had led his drumline to the sidelines closest to Eames' team sitting by the benches. The rest of the drumline marched past Eames in a disciplined row and Eames could only vaguely take note of Dom leading his own drumline away before Eames' attention was recaptured as Arthur approached and paused in front of Eames.
Arthur didn't turn to look at Eames, standing sideways in front of him, but he was close enough that Eames could see his face. Arthur was sweaty and flushed – his performance drawing far more blood to his cheeks than Eames' flirting had accomplished. But what Eames noticed most was the tight line of Arthur's mouth and the brightness of his eyes when they finally slanted sideways to watch him. "Perhaps I am not the one who needed to be worried about their pride," Arthur said quietly. There was no smirk on his lips, his expression neutral. But Eames knew he was being taught a lesson.
Oddly, instead of wanting to punch Arthur in the face, Eames wanted to pin him to the field turf and fuck him raw.
Eames felt his body flushing with the angry arousal filling him, but the moment passed and Arthur was already continuing on to rejoin his band, his performance well displayed. Eames watched Arthur blend back into his group and calmly exit the field, and it took one of Eames' teammates shaking his shoulder to remind him that they still had another half of the football game to complete before Eames could go home and jerk off to release tension.
#
They won the football game but Eames didn't feel like the victor. His body felt worn and heavy as he dragged himself off the field and headed for the change rooms, ready to peel off his sweaty football uniform and change back into normal clothes. He was especially ready to head back to the apartment he shared with Dom and Mal so he could fall into bed and not leave for the rest of the day.
Regardless of his initial plans, when Dom informed him in the change rooms that he was interested in going over to meet Arthur in person, Eames immediately offered to join him. He noticed the sidelong glance Dom gave him but Eames was grateful when his friend didn't demand an explanation.
Knowing it wouldn't be long before the Crown State College buses left to return to their own campus across town, Eames and Dom finished changing in a rush and ran across the stadium to the visitor's side. They still saw a bunch of blue and white, which meant that the Cadets were probably going to remain in uniform until they returned home. This made it easier to pick out the band members from the crowds of spectators pushing for the exits and it wasn't long before Eames spotted Arthur across the hall.
Eames noticed the way Arthur stiffened when he caught sight of Dom and Eames approaching, but he didn't run. Eames let Dom lead, hanging back since he wasn't sure how Arthur would respond. And after everything that had happened, Eames felt a bit shamed. Dom stepped up and offered a hand, which Arthur shook after a moment of consideration. Eames didn't offer his hand and Arthur barely looked over to acknowledge him anyway. Eames had never felt more unwelcome in his life.
"I'm Dom. Your performance was incredible," Dom introduced and praised, ignoring the tension between Eames and Arthur. "You should try out for our college next year."
Arthur smiled politely. "Thank you, but I'd feel a little guilty for taking your position on the drumline."
Eames' eyes widened but before he could be fully insulted on Dom's behalf, his friend laughed loudly. "It would be good to have someone with your skill level on the team," Dom said, not indicating any anger to the bold statement.
Any polite humour left Arthur's face as his eyes finally drifted over to Eames. "I don't think I'd fit in with a team like yours. Not now that I know you treat others so poorly just because they are on the opposite side of the field."
Before Dom or Eames could say anything in response to that they were interrupted by a petite girl decked out in the Crown State uniform for their colour guard that performed alongside the band. She had a collection of flags under her arm and her face was flushed from running. "Arthur, where have you been? The bus is ready to leave and Yusuf has been texting me asking when we'll be back so he can order the pizza."
"Sorry, Ariadne; I'm coming," Arthur said lightly, giving her a small smile before turning back. "It was nice to meet you, Dom," Arthur nodded towards Dom and then levelled Eames with a cold stare. "And Eames..." Arthur trailed off. Eames felt his heart race as he watched Arthur pull that slip of paper from beneath his shoulder pad. Arthur had performed the entire showdown and solo with Eames' name and number tucked beneath his uniform and hadn't shown a second of discomfort. "Better luck next time," Arthur mocked as he pressed the paper into Eames' palm before walking away beside Ariadne.
Eames' team had won the football game and technically Eames wasn't the one to lose when Arthur beat the Almira Vanguard. But Eames knew it wasn't the school events Arthur was referring to, and Eames ended up watching Arthur – who didn't look back once – until he was lost in the crowd.