Christ. Things hadn’t been tgis way with Mike - then again, Mike doesn’t even compare to Quentin as far Eliot’s concerned. But, still, this is what he’d been afraid of. Messing it all up.
Eliot spends a good deal if time fussing with his hair. He’s nervous so he needs to look perfect (it’s reasonable). What does he even say? Is I’m sorry too simple? When he does finally see Quentin, he decides to just start easy.
Quentin had to take a moment. That conversation with Eliot had been...messed up was probably an understatement. He really hadn't appreciated the joke about Eliot dying because he'd already seen Eliot die two times too many. It wasn't some notion that he could wave away as some event that would happen in the far future. Even if Eliot had been an old man, because he'd gained all of those memories at once and because all but the most vivid were a generalized blur, it still felt as if he'd just lost Eliot.
And then Quentin had suggested a drink. He'd mostly been kidding because Eliot had already made his position clear. Quentin's sexuality wasn't good enough for Eliot. Never mind that he'd only had two really serious relationships and one of them had been platonic. Never mind that falling for his best friend was a thing he did, apparently. So he'd mostly been joking until Eliot said yes. Until Eliot called him sexy.
He wanted to go out with Eliot. Somewhere in the city, as far from the memory of Fillory as they could get. But he needed some kind of explanation about why. Why now. What had changed.
And now here was Eliot looking ridiculously...Eliot. Brakebills Eliot with the shirt and suspenders and vest and all Quentin wanted to do was ruffle him up a little bit, but if he did that, they wouldn't get anywhere. And Quentin wouldn't get his answers. Instead, he took a moment and ate Eliot up with his eyes.
"I can see that." Quentin hadn't. He'd just paced. And worried. And paced some more.
Eliot thought about making a joke. He was very good at deflecting with a well timed quip, but he got the impression that it probably wouldn’t be a good idea. He watched Quentin watching him and unconsciously smoothed down his vest. Dressing like this, putting this image forward, it was like a safety blanket for Eliot.
“Because,” he answered, “if it doesn’t happen now, it’ll never happen. And I don’t want it to never happen - It’s not you, it’s me.” Eliot paused for a moment. He looked at Quentin again, finding some strength in the presence of the other man.
“I’m sorry.” He stepped forward, holding out a hand to take Quentin’s. “I’m sorry, because I made you feel like it didn’t mean anything. It meant everything.”
"I think there's something that you forget," Quentin said quietly as he took Eliot's hand and stepped closer. "I was the one who kissed you that night. Maybe a lot of memories from those years are fuzzy, but the important ones stuck. And that one was important."
Because he'd made the decision not to ignore what he felt for Eliot. He'd been ignoring it ever since that night with Eliot and Margo. Because his feelings for Alice were known and he'd screwed things up. And then she'd gotten herself killed when, if he'd just done things differently, he could have saved her. And then he did save her and things were different. He'd had his rebound and he'd had an official end to things with Alice and then...then he couldn't ignore things anymore. Especially when Eliot was there all the time.
He cupped the back of Eliot's neck to pull him down as he leaned up. "Kind of like this," he murmured and kissed Eliot softly.
It was exactly how Eliot remembered it. He leant down to meet Quentin, wrapping an arm around the other man to help raise him, and he assumed this meant that his apology was accepted. There was a smile lingering on his face when they parted.
"Kinda like that," he agreed. There was a smile pulling at the edges of his mouth and, just like last time, he drew Quentin back into another kiss. "Am I forgiven?"
He let Eliot suffer for half a minute and then he shook his head. "You owe me a real drink on a real date. Once, before our lives conspire to screw things up for us again." Because things always happened and they always destroyed any shred of a chance for a personal life. Even now, they were searching for the keys to turn magic back on. Their lives weren't always their own.
He pressed a hand to Eliot's chest and pushed. "So go," he said and pointed to the door. "Make reservations or something in... Are there even places to reserve in the town outside of here?" Because it wasn't like they could whisk off to the city. Not with Penny a disembodied spirit and magic missing. But it wasn't like they were in the complete middle of nowhere.
His lips twitched. Would he get to see Eliot actually drive? And whose car would he use?
"Whatever. That you can figure out. I'm going to get dressed since you're already...you." He waved a vague hand in Eliot's direction.
"If you're always going to be this demanding, I'm rethinking this."
He was joking. He pulled Quentin in for a kiss before Quentin could comment, then gave his butt a light pat to send him on his way.
"I'll ... Figure it out."
Eliot had been to the town a few times. Mostly when he and Margo wanted to get fucked up in ways not involving their fellow students, and when he wanted to flirt with boys he didn't go to school with. He never really thought he'd be going on a date anywhere there, but. He was pretty sure he remembered a place or two.
"I can't believe you're forcing me to take you on a date," he called out. "I'm getting us an Uber, how long will you be?"
"Fifteen minutes," Quentin called. Really, it wouldn't take nearly that long. There was only one outfit in his wardrobe he really considered 'date' material, even if it was a date with Eliot who he'd been with in another life for decades. Eliot had literally seen him in nothing, but this was different somehow.
Maybe Eliot was right. It was different here. They'd accepted around the time Ted was born that they were staying in Fillory. Sure, they always said that there was a chance they'd leave one day, but never in Ted's hearing and eventually it'd become just an in joke. One of the things that had stuck in his memory once that life had come back to him.
But they'd led a simple, uncomplicated life. Almost, and it felt a little treasonous to think it, a boring life. But maybe that was the hindsight of decades worth of experience because, at the end of it, he'd been content.
And now things were complicated and exciting and he was staring at his clothes and wondering if they were enough. Maybe he should have said a half hour. Except he hadn't and so he changed and threw his hair up into a ponytail and then considered the thought of cologne. But that would seem too much like trying. Not just trying, desperately trying.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
@theqcontinuum; tfln
Christ. Things hadn’t been tgis way with Mike - then again, Mike doesn’t even compare to Quentin as far Eliot’s concerned. But, still, this is what he’d been afraid of. Messing it all up.
Eliot spends a good deal if time fussing with his hair. He’s nervous so he needs to look perfect (it’s reasonable). What does he even say? Is I’m sorry too simple? When he does finally see Quentin, he decides to just start easy.
“Hi. I would have been faster but - I wasn’t.”
no subject
And then Quentin had suggested a drink. He'd mostly been kidding because Eliot had already made his position clear. Quentin's sexuality wasn't good enough for Eliot. Never mind that he'd only had two really serious relationships and one of them had been platonic. Never mind that falling for his best friend was a thing he did, apparently. So he'd mostly been joking until Eliot said yes. Until Eliot called him sexy.
He wanted to go out with Eliot. Somewhere in the city, as far from the memory of Fillory as they could get. But he needed some kind of explanation about why. Why now. What had changed.
And now here was Eliot looking ridiculously...Eliot. Brakebills Eliot with the shirt and suspenders and vest and all Quentin wanted to do was ruffle him up a little bit, but if he did that, they wouldn't get anywhere. And Quentin wouldn't get his answers. Instead, he took a moment and ate Eliot up with his eyes.
"I can see that." Quentin hadn't. He'd just paced. And worried. And paced some more.
"Why now?"
no subject
“Because,” he answered, “if it doesn’t happen now, it’ll never happen. And I don’t want it to never happen - It’s not you, it’s me.” Eliot paused for a moment. He looked at Quentin again, finding some strength in the presence of the other man.
“I’m sorry.” He stepped forward, holding out a hand to take Quentin’s. “I’m sorry, because I made you feel like it didn’t mean anything. It meant everything.”
no subject
Because he'd made the decision not to ignore what he felt for Eliot. He'd been ignoring it ever since that night with Eliot and Margo. Because his feelings for Alice were known and he'd screwed things up. And then she'd gotten herself killed when, if he'd just done things differently, he could have saved her. And then he did save her and things were different. He'd had his rebound and he'd had an official end to things with Alice and then...then he couldn't ignore things anymore. Especially when Eliot was there all the time.
He cupped the back of Eliot's neck to pull him down as he leaned up. "Kind of like this," he murmured and kissed Eliot softly.
no subject
"Kinda like that," he agreed. There was a smile pulling at the edges of his mouth and, just like last time, he drew Quentin back into another kiss. "Am I forgiven?"
no subject
He let Eliot suffer for half a minute and then he shook his head. "You owe me a real drink on a real date. Once, before our lives conspire to screw things up for us again." Because things always happened and they always destroyed any shred of a chance for a personal life. Even now, they were searching for the keys to turn magic back on. Their lives weren't always their own.
He pressed a hand to Eliot's chest and pushed. "So go," he said and pointed to the door. "Make reservations or something in... Are there even places to reserve in the town outside of here?" Because it wasn't like they could whisk off to the city. Not with Penny a disembodied spirit and magic missing. But it wasn't like they were in the complete middle of nowhere.
His lips twitched. Would he get to see Eliot actually drive? And whose car would he use?
"Whatever. That you can figure out. I'm going to get dressed since you're already...you." He waved a vague hand in Eliot's direction.
no subject
He was joking. He pulled Quentin in for a kiss before Quentin could comment, then gave his butt a light pat to send him on his way.
"I'll ... Figure it out."
Eliot had been to the town a few times. Mostly when he and Margo wanted to get fucked up in ways not involving their fellow students, and when he wanted to flirt with boys he didn't go to school with. He never really thought he'd be going on a date anywhere there, but. He was pretty sure he remembered a place or two.
"I can't believe you're forcing me to take you on a date," he called out. "I'm getting us an Uber, how long will you be?"
no subject
Maybe Eliot was right. It was different here. They'd accepted around the time Ted was born that they were staying in Fillory. Sure, they always said that there was a chance they'd leave one day, but never in Ted's hearing and eventually it'd become just an in joke. One of the things that had stuck in his memory once that life had come back to him.
But they'd led a simple, uncomplicated life. Almost, and it felt a little treasonous to think it, a boring life. But maybe that was the hindsight of decades worth of experience because, at the end of it, he'd been content.
And now things were complicated and exciting and he was staring at his clothes and wondering if they were enough. Maybe he should have said a half hour. Except he hadn't and so he changed and threw his hair up into a ponytail and then considered the thought of cologne. But that would seem too much like trying. Not just trying, desperately trying.
He took a breath and headed out to meet Eliot.