[ Oh, that face--Quentin can read it surprisingly well when he wants to, when he's actively paying attention, when his mind isn't all consumed by Alice or the next big Thing to save the world. He knows it enough--knows Eliot enough--to instinctually grab the other's hand with his free one, not to push it down but to hold it.
He doesn't want to stop looking at Eliot. He's afraid to, oddly, and he carefully guides it back to his hair, leaning down so Eliot can grasp at the base of his skull.
Forget talking.
Instead, Quentin stoops down fully, trying to fight his heart pounding in his chest and kiss him. ]
im gonna switch icon sets soon i swear
He doesn't want to stop looking at Eliot. He's afraid to, oddly, and he carefully guides it back to his hair, leaning down so Eliot can grasp at the base of his skull.
Forget talking.
Instead, Quentin stoops down fully, trying to fight his heart pounding in his chest and kiss him. ]