[ God. What did he ever do to deserve a precious idiot like Quentin in his life? The shadow of a smile drifts across Eliot’s face as he gestures with his cup back. He does like being himself, it’s true. He’s fabulous. ]
I’ve missed this. Drinking into the evening, just the two of us.
[ Which isn’t to say he’s never done the same with Margo and enjoyed those as well. He has a lot of love to give, and he knows how to share. ]
We haven’t really done this in a while.
[ Things have been tense, after all, with everything going on. Eliot’s pretty sure Quentin’s already gotten over how sleeping with him and Margo broke Alice up with him, but that’s only because Alice’s death overshadows it.
Also Quentin isn’t know for being the sharpest tool in the shed with the best memory, even when he isn’t self-medicating. And Eliot’s the only one stuck in Fillory. And he’s also married now. So. Yeah, not surprising that it hasn’t happened in a while, especially since time flows faster in Fillory. ]
You know, if you want to get more rest in, you could just catch up on sleep here before returning, right?
[ Frankly, they could also be doing this when it comes to researching and whatever else that doesn’t have to directly happen on Earth itself, but these days, Eliot doesn’t really know what the plan is anymore. His friends aren’t intentionally withholding, but Eliot doesn’t see the point in prodding every time they return when the plan’s going to change again within a few hours of Earth time after they leave. ]
[ It's wholehearted agreement said a little softer than he normally does, and there's a small thunk as his other leg hits the floor so he's actually sitting relatively properly. The drink is damn good, considering he'd literaly just pilfered what was closest to him. Then again, it's one of Eliot's many talents. ]
Every time I sleep, I'm not doing anything to help.
[ But somehow this is okay to Quentin's brain: drinking. Maybe it's because he's here for Eliot, not himself. ]
[ It doesn't sound cheap--it adds more weight to it, if anything. Here is the most distinguished mess Quentin has met in his entire life--he loves it, he loves it so much--but he's giving advice. Maybe it's advice he wished he'd actually use. Who knows?
God, he needs to drink more. He shouldn't, but here he is, taking a big gulp instead of quietly sipping. It slides down his throat, warms his chest, and he sighs. ]
Ditto.
[ It sounds so stupid--Eliot is doing the Eliot version of pouring his soul out--and Quentin is just weakly mimicking it. It's enough for him to smile into his cup, though, grin light, like they're back in Brakebills. ]
You would think it wouldn’t be so difficult, but apparently they have yet to pick the right climate zone to grow our grapes in, and the process is still very much trial and error. [ Eliot rocks his cup lightly before taking another drink. ] Should have studied up on how to make wine before I came here.
[ He slides down in his seat and sighs a long sigh as he slips. ]
But how are you doing? I’m sure your visit isn’t just because you wanted to save me from falling asleep in the throneroom.
[ How is he doing? Not good. Not so fucking good, but he's less angry and more defeated. He's tired, not just because he hasn't slept for what feels like days, but also because he's trying to cobble everyone's pieces together and it sucks but it's all he can do.
Eliot's right. He's usually right--and it breaks Quentin's heart just a little more when he realizes that Eliot suspects there's an ulterior motive. There isn't, asides from maybe wanting a friend. He can't hide his slightly surprised expression--hell, Quentin can't hide anything, he's always been too expressive--and he shrugs. ]
I mean, do I actually need a reason? I can't just hang out?
[ It's everything to worry about. Quentin remembers how alone he's always felt, even in the presence of other people. Is that Eliot, too? Has it always been? How does he hide it so well?
He has to stop thinking. In general, but about the situation, about others... Can't he just get shitfaced like he used to? He huffs, bangs finding their way into his face one more. He can't shake it. Alice always had the ability to have her hair in her face and never fuck up--why can't he?
They lapse into silence, and Quentin at least feels like it's the comfortable kind, like a warm blanket. It's nice. Eliot's company is nice. ]
[ Quentin half-heartedly shrugs. It's something important to Eliot, of course he's going to ask. His drink's already half empty and he's eagerly anticipating a few more before the conversation's over, if anything just to stretch out their time together.
Eliot's right, though. It might actually be alright if he catches a few Z's. ]
You being a dad, though, that's-- [ He chuckles. ] --I don't think anyone saw that coming. Not from the king of orgies.
[ He smiles wryly, not really knowing how to respond. As much as he’s pleased he will actually be a father, it’s not really something he’d asked for either. He can’t say that he didn’t want it; there is the thought that maybe kids would be nice sometime far in the future. That had always been something he imagined far far into the future though. And now... Now this is his new life and he can either accept it or let Fillory fall apart. ]
Not so interesting anymore, am I? [ It’s said like a joke, but of course it’s never a joke. ] Turns out orgies won’t ever be a thing for me again.
I’d ask you to attend some in my place, but I’m sure you’d probably get lost and start crying. Somehow end up in the kitchen drinking hot cocoa.
[ Still interesting, Quentin thinks, but the other speaks again and he's left with downing his drink entirely. It's a good thing he did, too, otherwise he'd probably spit his drink out at how casually Eliot has not only called him out but got it (mostly) right. He has never been in an orgy, but-- ]
You act like I'm new to group sex.
[ That one threesome while they were all fucked up on emotion magic definitely counts. Even if it wrecked his relationship, which--
--well. He's not going to think about that. He's trying desperately not to be a depressing sadsack like usual. He keeps the tone light and holds his glass out, a silent 'refill, please.' ]
[ Eliot hums, pretty sure Q means the one threesome he’s managed to be in that he vehemently denied having wanted the next morning. He doesn’t know if Quentin remembers how close he came to essentially accusing him and Margo of taking advantage of him without his consent, but it hadn’t sat right with him then, and for Quentin to bring it up now like he’d wanted it all along only carves the hurt deeper.
Damnit. He thought he’d buried that feeling good and deep. But how could he forget the world’s cruelest joke? To finally have something he wanted, to feel wanted back, so desperately loved, to feel as if he could be healed and whole and maybe even happy, only to have it ripped away from him and to be treated as a villain for being...well. Him. Instead of Alice.
He’d even made excuses for Quentin to feel better. It was just the magic at work. It wasn’t something either of them had wanted. But it wasn’t enough. It’d still be pinned that Eliot and Margo had ruined Quentin’s life somehow. For, what, being part of it? For loving Quentin because he deserved it? For wanting a piece of that goodness because both of them knew what a beautiful existence Quentin was and wanting to let him know?
He pulls himself upright and makes Quentin another drink before letting himself speaking, using the time to reign back his emotions while thinking of how answer. When Eliot hands the goblet back, he feels much calmer, less betrayed. He polishes off his own drink and starts working on making another for himself before answering. ]
I don’t think it counts if you’re too far gone to choose wanting it.
[ Alright, fair, but Quentin's muddled frown has nothing to do with the fact that he's noticing anything's wrong. It's literally just his thinking face, peering pensively over the cup and inhaling sharply. ]
Honestly? Immediately after, I barely remembered a thing.
[ But he'd be lying if he said he didn't revisit it from time to time, usually when he doesn't want to. Not because the act in and of itself wasn't good--hell, he learned a lot--just because it immediately feeds into Alice being upset with him, and now...
Well. Alice isn't here anymore.
Quentin's muddled frown is a little frownier, less thoughtful before he pulls himself out of it and actually makes eye contact with Eliot. ]
Pieces were easier to fit into place when I wasn't monumentally hungover with emotions.
It means-- [ Oh, God, he's doing the thing where he can't quite grasp for the words and has to start over a few times. He tucks his hair behind his ear, gaze flicking downwards. ]
It means I remember most of it, yeah, uh--like... All of it. Mostly, uh, you? And how--uh, why, exactly?
Uh-- [ His throat's dry. It feels like his throats dry, but he's at least managed to shove it all out in word salad: ]
--I mean why ask I--do you remember?
I[ t's the least possible accusatory tone while still being accusatory. It's not defensive, either, Quentin just doesn't know how to handle being put on the spot about a threesome he definitely enjoyed but fucked his whole life up. ]
[ Eliot hums at that, eyes holding Quentin’s for a moment before dropping to the table. He picks up his drink and slides back into his seat. ]
Mm. Before I. Answer that there’s something I feel like I have to clear up first.
For as. Crazy, and I do mean crazy, and intense as that magic juice was, it’s really like. Close to. Mm... Nothing? Compared to the cocktail of usual suspects at any given Physical Kids’ party.
[ Eliot takes a nice, healthy drink from his cup to let that all sink in first before he continues. ]
So. We remember everything.
[ And it means they knew what they were doing too.
[ It makes sense. Quentin has gotten fucked up six ways to Sunday at physical kid parties, and Eliot and Margo practically live and breathe them while Quentin partakes occasionally. Shit, Eliot probably needs enough tranquilizers to down a baby elephant before he starts to feel a slight buzz.
But they've remembered all of it, and that means all of it, and Quentin's metaphorical hand flapping has dulled. ]
[ It's not unwelcome, but Quentin has a hard time processing that people like him normally, let alone sexually. A little flirting he's used to by now, hell, he's 90% sure Eliot's pinched his ass at least twice. ]
You're not exactly anything to sneeze at, either...
[ He is, however, taking one hell of a long drink. Mainly at that anxious comment. He wasn't bad, was he? No. That's not what Alice had said either, he's just being a little insecure. He's also definitely not fixing his gaze on the table, either, shoulders awkwardly high. It's not a defensive position, just nervous. ]
Yeah--sorry. [ He scoffs, mostly at himself, and takes another healthy swig. ] You're kind of the only guy I've ever slept with, so...
[ The trail off is met with another shrug, but hey, those shoulders have stopped. They're back to stooping, one slightly lower than the other naturally thanks to his favourite companion, his trusty messenger bag. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
voicetesting? i don't know her
I’ve missed this. Drinking into the evening, just the two of us.
[ Which isn’t to say he’s never done the same with Margo and enjoyed those as well. He has a lot of love to give, and he knows how to share. ]
We haven’t really done this in a while.
[ Things have been tense, after all, with everything going on. Eliot’s pretty sure Quentin’s already gotten over how sleeping with him and Margo broke Alice up with him, but that’s only because Alice’s death overshadows it.
Also Quentin isn’t know for being the sharpest tool in the shed with the best memory, even when he isn’t self-medicating. And Eliot’s the only one stuck in Fillory. And he’s also married now. So. Yeah, not surprising that it hasn’t happened in a while, especially since time flows faster in Fillory. ]
You know, if you want to get more rest in, you could just catch up on sleep here before returning, right?
[ Frankly, they could also be doing this when it comes to researching and whatever else that doesn’t have to directly happen on Earth itself, but these days, Eliot doesn’t really know what the plan is anymore. His friends aren’t intentionally withholding, but Eliot doesn’t see the point in prodding every time they return when the plan’s going to change again within a few hours of Earth time after they leave. ]
no subject
[ It's wholehearted agreement said a little softer than he normally does, and there's a small thunk as his other leg hits the floor so he's actually sitting relatively properly. The drink is damn good, considering he'd literaly just pilfered what was closest to him. Then again, it's one of Eliot's many talents. ]
Every time I sleep, I'm not doing anything to help.
[ But somehow this is okay to Quentin's brain: drinking. Maybe it's because he's here for Eliot, not himself. ]
no subject
We need you. And you have to take care of yourself.
[ There’s a pause as he takes a drink. ]
I know that sounds cheap coming from someone like me, but that goes for all of us.
[ It’s why he hasn’t actually given up yet, really. Well, that, and he has some weird luck that’s been preventing him from dying anyway. ]
no subject
God, he needs to drink more. He shouldn't, but here he is, taking a big gulp instead of quietly sipping. It slides down his throat, warms his chest, and he sighs. ]
Ditto.
[ It sounds so stupid--Eliot is doing the Eliot version of pouring his soul out--and Quentin is just weakly mimicking it. It's enough for him to smile into his cup, though, grin light, like they're back in Brakebills. ]
You still haven't figured out champagne?
no subject
You would think it wouldn’t be so difficult, but apparently they have yet to pick the right climate zone to grow our grapes in, and the process is still very much trial and error. [ Eliot rocks his cup lightly before taking another drink. ] Should have studied up on how to make wine before I came here.
[ He slides down in his seat and sighs a long sigh as he slips. ]
But how are you doing? I’m sure your visit isn’t just because you wanted to save me from falling asleep in the throneroom.
no subject
Eliot's right. He's usually right--and it breaks Quentin's heart just a little more when he realizes that Eliot suspects there's an ulterior motive. There isn't, asides from maybe wanting a friend. He can't hide his slightly surprised expression--hell, Quentin can't hide anything, he's always been too expressive--and he shrugs. ]
I mean, do I actually need a reason? I can't just hang out?
no subject
[ Ah, but time does go much more quickly here. ]
...it’s been a long time for me. Since you’ve wanted to. That’s all. And I missed that. Didn’t know if you’d ever want to again.
[ Eliot shrugs, because this too is just another fact to him, and he tries not to take it personally. ]
It’s just lonely sometimes. Nothing to worry about.
no subject
He has to stop thinking. In general, but about the situation, about others... Can't he just get shitfaced like he used to? He huffs, bangs finding their way into his face one more. He can't shake it. Alice always had the ability to have her hair in her face and never fuck up--why can't he?
They lapse into silence, and Quentin at least feels like it's the comfortable kind, like a warm blanket. It's nice. Eliot's company is nice. ]
So. Fen alright?
no subject
[ Even Eliot can’t deny that he’s sort of excited at the prospect, despite how completely unprepared for fatherhood he is. ]
Why?
no subject
Eliot's right, though. It might actually be alright if he catches a few Z's. ]
You being a dad, though, that's-- [ He chuckles. ] --I don't think anyone saw that coming. Not from the king of orgies.
no subject
Not so interesting anymore, am I? [ It’s said like a joke, but of course it’s never a joke. ] Turns out orgies won’t ever be a thing for me again.
I’d ask you to attend some in my place, but I’m sure you’d probably get lost and start crying. Somehow end up in the kitchen drinking hot cocoa.
no subject
You act like I'm new to group sex.
[ That one threesome while they were all fucked up on emotion magic definitely counts. Even if it wrecked his relationship, which--
--well. He's not going to think about that. He's trying desperately not to be a depressing sadsack like usual. He keeps the tone light and holds his glass out, a silent 'refill, please.' ]
no subject
Damnit. He thought he’d buried that feeling good and deep. But how could he forget the world’s cruelest joke? To finally have something he wanted, to feel wanted back, so desperately loved, to feel as if he could be healed and whole and maybe even happy, only to have it ripped away from him and to be treated as a villain for being...well. Him. Instead of Alice.
He’d even made excuses for Quentin to feel better. It was just the magic at work. It wasn’t something either of them had wanted. But it wasn’t enough. It’d still be pinned that Eliot and Margo had ruined Quentin’s life somehow. For, what, being part of it? For loving Quentin because he deserved it? For wanting a piece of that goodness because both of them knew what a beautiful existence Quentin was and wanting to let him know?
He pulls himself upright and makes Quentin another drink before letting himself speaking, using the time to reign back his emotions while thinking of how answer. When Eliot hands the goblet back, he feels much calmer, less betrayed. He polishes off his own drink and starts working on making another for himself before answering. ]
I don’t think it counts if you’re too far gone to choose wanting it.
What do you even remember?
no subject
Honestly? Immediately after, I barely remembered a thing.
[ But he'd be lying if he said he didn't revisit it from time to time, usually when he doesn't want to. Not because the act in and of itself wasn't good--hell, he learned a lot--just because it immediately feeds into Alice being upset with him, and now...
Well. Alice isn't here anymore.
Quentin's muddled frown is a little frownier, less thoughtful before he pulls himself out of it and actually makes eye contact with Eliot. ]
Pieces were easier to fit into place when I wasn't monumentally hungover with emotions.
[ And he's back to staring at his cup. ]
no subject
But even then Quentin’s not really answering the question. ]
And that means... What exactly?
[ He’s smart, but he’s not a mind-reader. ]
no subject
It means I remember most of it, yeah, uh--like... All of it. Mostly, uh, you? And how--uh, why, exactly?
[ Yup. He's flustered. ]
no subject
Why?
[ His palms are flat to the table, his newly mixed drink forgotten. ]
Why what?
no subject
--I mean why ask I--do you remember?
I[ t's the least possible accusatory tone while still being accusatory. It's not defensive, either, Quentin just doesn't know how to handle being put on the spot about a threesome he definitely enjoyed but fucked his whole life up. ]
no subject
Mm. Before I. Answer that there’s something I feel like I have to clear up first.
For as. Crazy, and I do mean crazy, and intense as that magic juice was, it’s really like. Close to. Mm... Nothing? Compared to the cocktail of usual suspects at any given Physical Kids’ party.
[ Eliot takes a nice, healthy drink from his cup to let that all sink in first before he continues. ]
So. We remember everything.
[ And it means they knew what they were doing too.
Pleasedon’tbemadpleasedon’tbemadpleasedon’tbemadpleasedon’tbema— ]
no subject
But they've remembered all of it, and that means all of it, and Quentin's metaphorical hand flapping has dulled. ]
Oh.
I... That makes...sense.
[ Give him a second. ]
So when you... we... you know. You remember that?
no subject
Yeah, you were a little anxious, but I coaxed you along.
You can’t blame a guy like me for wondering what it’d feel like being topped by someone as hung as you are though, right?
no subject
You're not exactly anything to sneeze at, either...
[ He is, however, taking one hell of a long drink. Mainly at that anxious comment. He wasn't bad, was he? No. That's not what Alice had said either, he's just being a little insecure. He's also definitely not fixing his gaze on the table, either, shoulders awkwardly high. It's not a defensive position, just nervous. ]
no subject
Yes, but I already know that. I’m trying to invalidate your insecurity and stroke your ego a little bit.
You do know how to accept a compliment, right?
no subject
[ The trail off is met with another shrug, but hey, those shoulders have stopped. They're back to stooping, one slightly lower than the other naturally thanks to his favourite companion, his trusty messenger bag. ]
Thanks.
no subject
That’s. That’s not what you said before. [ His voice is low, soft and uncertain. ] About what happened.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
im gonna switch icon sets soon i swear
♥
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)