SUMMARY: Taco Friday! Friends conversing, eating, drinking & hanging out
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Some language
The weekend had arrived and Eliot had been busy cleaning his place then running to the store to get some things for taco Friday with Matt. He’d purchased beer which was something he hadn’t done in many years. It made him think of home which brought the usual pang of longing that he didn’t allow himself to linger on. He’d changed into something a little more casual. Well, as casual as he got for the most part. He did a check of everything and was about to go grab napkins when a knock came on the door along with a phone alert. The food had arrived.
Eliot sat the food on the table then decided to text Matt. Food just arrived, darling. Shake a tail feather & get here. He chuckled as he sent it off. He moved to take the wine and beer out of the fridge and to the table along with napkins.
Matt's phone alerted him to a new text as soon as he stepped foot inside The Station, and he let the message read out aloud while walking toward the stairs, messenger bag slung over one shoulder and a paper bag in another. He was already smiling about halfway through the recitation, delivered by a pleasant female voice, and opted not to go out of his way to drop his things off at his apartment on the floor above Eliot's and instead merely walked up to two instead. The smell of delivery lingered in the hall, making his mouth water.
He knocked and didn't wait for the door to open while he said loud enough to carry through, "If you think I'm shaking anything in anyone's line of sight, you've got another thing coming, Eliot."
Eliot looked up at the knock and made his way to the door laughing at Matt's words. “What a shame,” he said upon opening the door. “You’ve got a nice tail feather.” He smirked then moved to take Matt’s arm. “Allow me to show you to the table.” He paused. “You can set your things here by the couch. It’s on your right.” He waited until the other had set his things down then carried on to the table. “The chair is right in front of you.” He made sure Matt was seated before he sat himself.
“There’s a plate in front of you and a beer to the right of it.” He began taking the food out. “So I got us each one beef, chicken and steak taco, some chips and salsa and some cinnamon churros.” He unwrapped the tacos and sat one of each on Matt’s plate. “Alright, it’s beef, chicken, steak - right to left. There’s hot and mild sauce. If you need help putting it on your tacos let me know.” He poured himself some wine then took a long gulp of it. “Um, if I’m overstepping let me know. I just…want to help if you need it.” Ugh. He didn’t want Matt to think he was babying him or anything. He knew he was a very capable adult.
Except for one key thing, Matt followed Eliot's instructions with a quiet smile of very gentle amusement. He'd carried the paper bag over and it at the end of the table. "I really do appreciate the direction, but mostly I just need you to direct me to the hottest sauce you have. It's been a long week, and I feel like I need to make some penance by way of setting my mouth on fire." His coat had gone over his messenger bag, but he only just then loosened his tie and then waved a hand. "Don't mind me, I'm just being dramatic."
He picked up a taco and paused only long enough to raise a brow in his friend's direction. "So, that was a helluva survey you put out there. Did you find what you were looking for?"
Right. He picked up the small container of hot sauce and sat it by Matt’s plate. “The hot sauce container is beside your plate. I’m not sure how hot it is. I don’t like hot sauce so I haven’t tasted it.” The salsa and chips were set in the middle of the table with a spoon stuck in the salsa before Eliot fixed his plate. Mild sauce was added to the steak taco which he would eat first. “Sorry you had a rough week. At least the weekend is here.”
He finished off his wine then refilled his glass. “I’m sorry, would you like a glass for your beer? I know some people do.” He took a bite of his taco. Not too bad. “Thanks,” he grinned. “I wasn’t looking for anything. I was curious and wanted to talk with others. No ulterior motive here. Well, that’s not completely true. I wanted to see if anyone would have a negative reaction to it. I don’t know why some people act like the entire subject of sex is so taboo or bad. I guess I was just a curious cat overall.”
"Short weeks always kick my ass. Seems to be a universal truth, no matter what dimension I'm in. And that's enough work talk, at least from me. I didn't come here to complain about my job, after all." Matt shrugged, and then shook out a small drop onto his fingertip to test the heat level. After a moment's consideration, he found it palatable and proceeded to pour a bunch over the chicken taco.
"No, no, bottle, can, I'm totally all right with both. Thanks, though. I'm wondering if this is going to be our thing: trying to out-host one another. If we keep this up, we're going to be hosting five course meals over candlelight." He laughed and made his point by taking a bite of taco and then a more than healthy swig of a truly good beer. "Oh, my God, I really needed this. Thanks." No way that was a moan. Nope. Matt cleared his throat a little, but was smirking on the other side of it. "Did you forget the whole cyclically puritanical nature of our relationship with sex? We fill our media with it from all angles, but God forbid we actually talk about it like mature adults."
“You’re free to complain or bitch about work if you’d like. I don’t have a job to complain about. I need to get on that.” It was just odd to think about it since he hadn’t had a job in years. Eliot laughed and shook his head. “Five courses is a lot. I’ve never cooked one that big. I may keep that in mind as a challenge.” So he tucked it away to maybe pull out another time.
For a few long moments he ate letting his thoughts tumble around his head. “Please, Matt. Sex is everywhere as you pointed out. We’ve come a long way, baby.” He chuckled at himself. “Is it so different from anything else? I mean, we talk about our health, our families, jobs and life problems, but you mention sex and it’s like you suddenly sprouted three heads and turned green.” He sipped at his wine. “I don’t get it. Maybe because I’ve been around people who didn’t mind talking about it and I have no issue with sharing or showing my sexual side. Speaking of sex…you never did say which or what you are. Don’t think I’ve forgotten.”
Setting aside all talk to jobs or lack thereof, Matt leaned forward, setting a very impolite elbow on the table and using his beer to gesture. "I grew up Catholic. I'm predisposed to feeling guilty and ashamed of all the good things in my life. Sex included. Especially the premarital kind, which is all I've ever had."
He chuckled and shook his head. No escaping the heat in his cheeks, and no writing it off as being the result of his spicy food. "I guess twenty-four-ish hours wasn't enough to wipe your memory. Damn. There's a peevish part of me that's curious as to why you're so curious, but I'm not an asshole. I've mostly been with women, but there were a couple of guys in college. I was very drunk, but 100% consenting. But as for your survey question? I think they call it… bottoming from the top? Wait, no. Topping from the bottom? I, uh, like it when my partner is over me."
“I’ve found that some of the most interesting people I’ve met grew up in very religious environments. They tended to be more open and well, bad.” He laughed. “I don’t mean that literally. I mostly mean more open to a lot of things including sex. Even with any guilt they may have. Guilt is powerful, but I think pleasure and curiosity are more so.”
Eliot laughed out loud. “Never. I’m like an elephant! I never forget.” He was still learning Matt trying to decide if he was somewhat shy or merely uncomfortable with certain things. “Why would you wondering that make you an asshole? I don’t think it does. I’m so curious because I want to be. Life is short. I don’t want to always discuss mundane things. Therefore I ask and talk about the more interesting aka more spicy things. And I like sex. I’m not afraid to talk about it.” It was as simple as that. He took in Matt’s answer. Did it go with what he’d imagine it would be? Yes and no. Though he had not expected the other had been with any men. “Do you mean power bottom? You like being in charge or are in charge, but from the bottom? Oh, and having your partner over you, not a bad thing by any means.”
In order to give himself some time, Matt basically stuffed the entirety of the rest of his first taco in his mouth. By some miracle, he didn't actually choke on it. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had such a frank discussion about sex. Possibly one of the times when he was very drunk. He thought this was highly likely, since he couldn't recall any one conversation in particular. After swallowing very thickly and downing half his beer in a series of very firm gulps, Matt finally sat back, mouth twisting a little at one corner. "No, it's more… I both need and like to have guidance. I may be able to sense shapes and forms—curves, but the particulars? I don't want to get those wrong. Like, sure, I could listen to your breathing, hear the hitch or the sigh if I—well, you get the picture. Yeah, I can do that, use that as a guidepost, but it's so much better if I know beforehand so I don't screw something up, make them uncomfortable. Whatever that is. If there's a label for it."
Eliot watched Matt with slight amusement. “Is this conversation making you uncomfortable?” He wondered if…No, best not to ask that. “That makes sense to me. I don’t judge anyone for what they like or how they do it. I don’t like labels. They suck and not in the good way.” He chuckled then reached for his wine and emptied the glass. “Actually there is a label for that. It’s called
Matt’s” preference aka style.” He smiled and refilled his glass again. “Would you like some wine or a drink?” A drink sounded good. “So would you say you’re more submissive? I know, I know, another label, but not so much, really. More finding out what you like.”
"Kind of hard to talk about this stuff without some labels coming up, even if you're just sorting them and discarding the ones that don't exactly fit." Matt pushed his empty beer off to one side. "I'll switch to wine for now before it all goes to my head. I'm trying harder not to turn to hard liquor when things get, well, hard. Or just escaping out into the city until the pre-dawn hours. But that's not really answering your question, which is to say—I don't think so? No, I wouldn't say I'm submissive. Like I said, I love guidance, but I'm also a pretty big fan of control. Not of the other person, mind, more over myself. At the end of the day, I'm still blind. I don't want to feel helpless on top of that. And I've been there. Many, many times."
“I suppose that’s true.” Unfortunately. “I’ll be right back.” Eliot stood and went to the kitchen to grab a wine glass. Back at the table he poured Matt a glass then carefully sat it in front of him. “Is it such a bad thing if it goes to your head a little?” He teased. “Mm, hard liquor is my friend. We have a long and complicated relationship.” He thought about the enchanted flask that was in his pocket at this very moment.
“I don’t get much of that vibe from you anyway.” Submissive and definitely not helplessness. “Everyone likes control of themselves. Well, no, that’s not true. I’ll just say most.” Yes, that was more like it.
After murmuring his thanks, Matt took a sip that nearly went up his nose when he snorted. He raised his glass like he'd done just the week before. Huh. If he wasn't careful, this weekend socializing thing might become a habit. "I'll drink to long and complicated relationships to hard liquor. With wine. Which doesn't count, but is close enough to be super ironic."
One brow lifted as he tilted his face in Eliot's direction. "Well, now I want to know what kind of vibe I give off. That seems fair, right?"
“You’re welcome.” Eliot tipped his glass toward Matt. “Cheers to that.” He took a sip then sat his glass down. His index finger traced over the edge as he became lost in thought. Too many thoughts. He shook his head to chase them away.
“Sure, it’s fair. The vibe I get from you is confidence. A bit of…restraint, holding back. Generally a good vibe, but a hint of sadness or longing.” Which he couldn’t fully describe. He didn’t know Matt well enough to know his full story, obviously. He could only go by vibes and what he’d learned in getting to know him so far.
Matt sat back, food and wine forgotten for the moment since it kind of felt like the rug had been pulled out from under him and now he was breathless and flat on his back. It stirred up another memory, making him shake his head very shallowly as he let out a shaky sigh. "Either you're way too good at this, or I'm way more of an open book than I ever thought."
He rubbed a hand down his face, like that might do something to help with this feeling of being seen. "Her name was Elektra."
Eliot wouldn’t say Matt was an open book exactly. He’d felt almost from the first time they'd spoken that there were things he held back, kept tucked away, but didn’t everyone? Not many blurted out their whole life story the first time they met someone. “I’m sorry if I…” If he what? He had not meant to bring the other man down or surprise as it seemed he had. “...If I brought up hard or painful memories.”
He didn’t know who Elektra was. A friend? Girlfriend? Wife? And it certainly wasn’t his place to ask. “I think we all have someone like that in our past.” Eliot reached for his wine and drank deeply. He wasn’t sure what to say next.
Picking up his second taco, Matt ate it in silence, wrapped up in his own thoughts. As he picked up his third, however, he just as quickly put it back down and downed his wine instead. The words were bubbling out of him: how he and Elektra met, how she'd discovered his abilities, the heady early days of their passion—and their destruction. With the benefit of hindsight and knowing Stick had literally sent her to seduce him, he could see just how toxic the whole thing was, and he didn't hold back from telling Eliot about that, too.
He poured himself another glass of wine as he brought the story up to running into her again, fighting the Hand, losing her to the Hand, having her brought back from the dead, and then losing her all over again and nearly losing himself in the process. At the end of it, Matt pushed a shaking hand through his hair and sat back with a sigh. "I've never told anyone the whole story. Not even in confession. Mostly, it comes from shame. She's the one person who came the closest to pushing me over the line, the one where I won't take a life. I don't know if I'm still in love with her, but I don't know what I'd do if she ever showed up here. I'm—I don't like who I am when I'm around her, but I can't seem to help myself."
Damn, could Eliot relate to the story Matt shared. Not in every way, but bits of it. It certainly brought a heavier tone to things. “Thank you for trusting me enough to share that. Or feeling comfortable enough to do so.” He knew trust was earned and not so easy for some. “I’m sorry for your loss. You cared a great deal for her and no matter the circumstance losing someone like that is hard.”
He looked down at his half eaten food and wasn’t that hungry anymore. Picking up the tacos he wrapped them up and placed them back in the bag. He placed the cinnamon churros on the table then packed up the salsa and chips. He had a feeling Matt wasn’t so hungry anymore either. “If you’re finished, I’ll take your plate. If not, carry on. I’m just going to tidy up a bit.”
There was no missing the sharp turn in tone for their conversation, and Matt knew it was his fault. "Shit," he muttered under his breath, and then a little louder, pushing his plate away: "I'm sorry. Let me help. I don't really know why I told you all of that. Maybe it just felt like time. It's been about ten years with the time change. That's gotta be the statute of limitations, right? Or is that just wishful thinking?"
Matt stood and started helping with the dishes and the food, navigating Eliot's space like he'd been there before. He set the plates next to the sink, but wasn't so presumptuous as to assume how his friend might wash his dishes. Matt knew his limits. Usually. He sighed and turned around so he could lean back against the sink counter. "Is this the time of the evening where we turn to hard liquor, or have I completely killed the mood?"
Eliot paused and laid his hand on Matt’s arm. “Hey, it’s okay. You can talk to me about anything. I’m not going to tell anyone.” Because it wasn’t their business and he wasn’t the kind who went around telling people private things. “I don’t know if it was time or you just wanted to share either way you can trust me. I know we’re still getting to know one another, but you can.” He pulled his hand away. “Thanks for helping.” He picked up their glasses and the bag then made his way to the kitchen.
He placed the glasses beside the plates then put the food in the fridge. “You haven’t killed the mood. Promise. But yes, this is the time of the evening we turn to hard liquor. I’m going to have vodka. What would you like?” Eliot made his way out of the kitchen and to the “bar” in the living room. At present it was a shelf he’d purchased to hold liquor and a table he’d bought second hand. He quite liked it and wanted to find a place to put it once he got a proper bar set up.
The warmth of the gesture settled something in Matt's chest. He caught himself smiling downward before the moment passed, but maybe it lingered a little as he followed Eliot back to the living room. "Scotch is my usual poison, but I'll join you in the vodka. I know you got churros, but I found a bakery and brought a couple of Pan de Concha on recommendation from the staff. Consider it a now-apology instead of simply a host gift, but for later. Maybe breakfast?"
“Two vodkas coming up.” Eliot started making the drinks. “I have scotch if you want some later.” He looked up and shook his head. “Matt, you have nothing to apologize for. I like that you felt comfortable enough to share that.” Which may have sounded weird he realized after it left his mouth. “Here you go.” He handed Matt a glass then moved to sit on the couch. “Thank you for the Pan de Concha. Breakfast or late night snack,” he grinned while taking a sip of his vodka.
He toed off his shoes then stretched out his long legs. “It’s nice having someone here. I mean, I like my alone time as much as the next person, but when it’s all the time…” Eliot shrugged. He hadn’t seen Julia or Quentin since he arrived and wasn’t sure why. He assumed they were busy. Julia had a baby after all. And while he’d met a few people he still was alone a lot of the time. He drank some more. “How long have you been here again?”
Sitting on the other end, Matt made himself comfortable and took a sip of the frankly dangerous vodka. With its nothing-taste, he knew it would be really dangerous. "A few months now, since late April. I've pretty much always lived alone, but between work and my friends, I had people around me a lot when I wasn't home." He huffed a laugh. "Maybe that's the real reason why I never got married or had a live-in partner—I'd make a terrible housemate. And now it's way too late. I'm extremely set in my bachelor ways. What about you? Any long term relationships hiding in your closet?"
“Back home I was rarely alone.” Even when possessed he hadn’t been alone. He frowned a bit and drank deeply. “Do you know how many people say that? Oh, I’d make a terrible roomie or whatever. I’m too set in my ways. The answer is everyone,” he laughed. His laughter tapered off at the question. “Just one. Quentin and I. In another time loop, another time. We were together for fifty years and had a family.” He emptied his glass then stood to get more. “We were trying to solve this mosaic, find a key for the quest we were on. The beauty of all life,” he almost whispered.
Glass filled, he went back to the couch. “Does that count? A relationship from the past in a time loop?” Of course it did, but he tried not to think about it too much. “Anyway, the past is the past. What about hookups? Surely you’ve had a few since you’ve been here. Nine months without sex? I think I’d go crazy,” he chuckled.
Matt sat for a moment, absorbing this. He could barely grasp it: fifty years with the same person. Now, as ever, he wished he could see the look on Eliot's face. He wondered if it matched the wistful undertone of a story that pulled at his own heartstrings. Quentin. Matt hoped they'd been able to reconnect here, but didn't ask. It seemed like a wound best left un-poked, if not. He almost hesitated to ask, but in the end his curiosity was too strong. "And did you? Solve it? Find 'the beauty of all life'?"
Now it was his turn to finish his drink way too fast, and once again, he nearly choked on it. Matt coughed quietly and chuckled with a shake of his head. "No, I've had a fairly monastic time of it, I'm afraid. I thought there was a chance with this woman named Wanda, but her attention's been pretty firmly on her kids since they arrived—as rightly it should be. So, I don't know where that's going, if anywhere. And if it's nowhere, then that's just life, right? And you?" He smirked a little. "We wouldn't want you to go crazy or anything."
Eliot smiled and nodded. “Yeah, we solved it and found the beauty of all life.” He let his thoughts wander back to Old Fillory for a few moments. He wondered if Quentin still thought about it or if he’d put it out of his mind when he had rejected him. Eliot would never forget the look on his face, in his eyes. A wounded puppy who seconds before had been full of hope before it was snuffed out.
“Do I need to start giving warnings before I ask such things? I’m afraid you’re actually going to choke one of these days.” He was grinning, noting a bit of blush on the others cheeks. “Well, you never know. And if it does go nowhere then there’s plenty of other fish in the sea. Sadly, there has been no sex in my world since arriving here. There’s a lot of straight men here. Makes it hard on a guy, you know?” He chuckled and sipped at his vodka. “It’s worse when they’re attractive. I may have to venture out somewhere.”
There was that quiet again, the one where Matt was certain that Eliot was caught up in his past-that-never-was. In the next moment, however, he had to laugh at himself. "What can I say? You have a gift for innuendo and comedic timing." He toasted his friend and leaned against the back of the couch, vodka making a burning line through his insides that he didn't actually mind. "You might be right about the guys around here. Sorry about it. If you and Jen decide to go out again to some bar or club again after tomorrow night, then count me in. It might not be my comfort zone—just the noise and all, not anything else, I swear, but I make a killer wingman. If nothing else, I can help with the sympathy pull."
“It is one of my many gifts.” He smirked and tossed back more of his drink. Eliot waved his hand chuckling. “Nothing to apologize about. It is curious though. We’re in San Francisco for crying out loud!” This made him laugh heartily. He quirked an eyebrow. “How did you know Jen and I were going out?” Had he told Matt? No, he hadn’t. Maybe Jen had. “You’re welcome to come with us if we go out again. If you go though you have to dance. At least a little. No arguing that point. You win, counselor,” he grinned.
Eliot stood again and went to the bar to grab a second glass as well as the vodka and Scotch. When he sat again it was a little closer to Matt. “Now I don’t have to get back up,” he joked. “I brought the scotch and a clean glass if you decide you want to switch.” He topped his glass then took a drink. “And I don’t ever want to hear you say anything about a sympathy pull again. Men will be hitting on you in a gay club or bar. That’s a given.”
Matt had the good grace to flush with what he had no doubt was a very bright red when he admitted: "I set up alerts for whenever my friends make comments on the net. That way I don't miss them, y'know? I didn't really mean to snoop, but I'm glad two of my friends are gonna be hanging out. That's weird, right? There's gotta be a better way to keep tabs on the people I care about without actually keeping digital tabs on them."
His head lolled over to Eliot when he was next to him again, and he shot him a wide grin. "I realize you did that as much for your benefit as for mine, but I'd like to go on record as saying you're much too good for me. And good at this. Really, you'd be a bartending dream. Have you done much party planning? I think Alexis Rose either has some kind of business or is just really into that kind of thing. Could be fun to work with her at future events? I guess I'm just trying to keep you entertained and gainfully employed at the same time." Matt chuckled and managed to lean up right enough to pour himself a scotch before settling back again with another lazy smile. "Maybe they wouldn't, but I'd be there to politely decline and send them your direction anyway. I'm sure you'd be the much more desirable choice between the pair of us."
Of course setting up alerts made perfect sense. "No, no, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to insinuate that you were snooping. I read through other posts sometimes too, being a curious cat and all. I knew you knew Jen and figured maybe she told you." He took a sip, wishing he had worded his thoughts differently. "It makes sense to set up alerts as I'm sure they're read out to you. It's not weird in the least. I am sorry if I made you feel it was." Ugh. Stupid, Eliot. He would be more mindful.
"You caught me," Eliot chuckled. "Why keep getting up? Interrupting. When I can stay here and be comfortable." He rolled his eyes and gave Matt a playful tap on the arm. "No one's too good for you unless it's some real asshole. And thank you. I was offered a job like I said to be a bartender, but I don't think that's where I want to do it, so I politely declined. I'm not even sure that's what I want to do. I'm currently an as needed personal dresser. When will you need me, Mr. Murdock?" Not that he was rushing by means. "But I'm keeping my options open for something full time or even part time. Bartending events could be interesting. If you give me her number I could call and ask her about that, to get more details."
Eliot took a drink and grinned. "Oh, but they would. You're handsome, intelligent, you dress nice. Don't sell yourself short." He drank some more then turned to look at Matt. "Besides, I know that's what a wingman is supposed to do, but that doesn't mean he can't enjoy the attention."
"Hey, no, you're good. I guess we're both good. With the advent and explosion of social media, I had to start getting creative with staying caught up with my friends. Karen—I think I told you about her?—she set me up with a lot of things, but I can't say I was very active on any of them." Matt smiled easily, and he could feel his face returning to normal before receiving that small pat on his arm, which made him chuckle. "I have a deposition the week after next. The managing partner insinuated that it needed to go well, so maybe we can go next weekend? As always, I'll leave myself in your capable hands and trust your judgment."
He nodded a little, although it had been a really long time since he hadn't been absolutely certain about what he wanted to do with his life. It wasn't like he didn't know plenty of people who didn't, however, and there was nothing whatsoever wrong with that. "You can find Alexis on the network. She's like us, a portal refugee. I think she's been here a few months more than me. She may have been the one to offer you the job, but I wouldn't know for sure. She and her brother seem like good people, though."
Matt grinned at his friend. "The lawyer part's a pretty big pull, too. Don't forget that bit. I'm sure I'll be plenty flattered, but at the end of the night, you'll be the one getting the attention. I'll take comfort from the fact that at least one of us will be getting lucky."
"You may have mentioned her, but the name isn't overly familiar to me." Eliot took a long gulp of his vodka. "It's okay, Matt. I'm sure you're very busy with work and such. Don't worry about going out. I'm sure you'd be more comfortable in a straight bar or club anyway." He shifted and leaned forward to top off his glass once more.
"No, it was her brother, David, I believe that offered me the job. I'm sure they are good people. Most here have been nice since I arrived. I'm sure being a lawyer would be a big pull. Depends on the person I suppose." Eliot waved off the rest of what was said as it was all a moot point.
For a moment, Matt simply sat there, partially filled glass resting on his thigh, wondering what he may have just said wrong. Whatever had just happened felt like a notable shift the mood, and he wasn't sure he could account for it. The whole thing was enough to make his mouth pull into a little bit of a frown while he spread his free hand wide. "Well, I can't say I'd be really at ease in any club, no matter what kind affiliation it had, but that's mostly just down to the noise. It affects my directional sense. But that's not to say I wouldn't come out with you if you wanted. I'm not trying to invite myself or anything, just looking for more opportunities to hang out with my friends, y'know? If I… If I said something that made you think otherwise, I'm really sorry. I know we said no more apologies, but this one feels kind of important."
"I wouldn't want you to go anywhere that makes you uncomfortable or throws you off balance." Someone would have to be a real asshole to want that. Now that he thought about it Matt had mentioned something like that before. Idiot "I know you weren't inviting yourself, but it's not your thing and I get that. I understand." What the other liked to do in his spare time made more sense now.
Eliot nodded. "I know, but friends would understand not going to places like that. You didn't say anything that made think otherwise or anything like that. I promise," he assured Matt. "There's plenty of other things to do with friends, right?" Right.
While he wasn't sure things were quite back to the same equilibrium, Matt was very willing to let this one point go. His smile was slow and just this side of uncertain, but still genuine despite it. "How about coffee shops and bookstores? I'm sure I could wingman for you there. And probably at a bar, depending on how popular it is. Not that I mind nights like this, just hanging out and drinking and getting take out, but it doesn't exactly find you anyone to have some fun with."
“I’m not really one to frequent book shops, but I do love coffee and coffee shops can be cozy and quaint.” Bars were out for him. What Matt did with others was up to them. Eliot took a long sip of vodka then turned to look at Matt. “Do you think I’m just trying to find someone to fuck?” Fuck. The moment that left his mouth he regretted it. “I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant to say or imply. I definitely spoke without thinking.”
He sat his drink on the table then stood. “Excuse me. I’ll be right back.” He made his way to the bathroom where he shut the door then leaned heavily against it. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He moved to the sink and splashed some cold water on his face. He didn’t bother looking in the mirror. After drying his face he went back out to the living room and sat. “Do you need anything? More scotch? A snack?” Honestly, he wanted to be swallowed up by a hole.
Somehow—and again, Matt really wasn't sure how—he had massively put his foot in it. His mouth, his ass—who knew? Hadn't they been talking about dry spells? Evidently, they'd been talking about vastly different things this entire time, and it would have been super nice if the apartment floor would crack open and let him fall through right then and there. He thought about going after Eliot as soon as he fled, but he stayed where he was, rooted by his uncertainty and a conversation that had spiraled way out of his control. Miscommunication was a real beast. Matt muttered his own "fuck" quietly right as the bathroom door opened again.
Then it became a matter of scraping together the last bit of his social cues to figure out where to go from here. He thought about standing, but as soon as Matt shifted forward, he felt the lurch of too much booze and not enough food go right to his head. "Uh, maybe the churros? I'm…" He pressed his mouth into a flat line and then released it with a slow breath and a wry laugh as he pushed his hand through his hair. "Fuck, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have— I'm sorry."
Eliot quickly stood back up and went to grab the box of churros off the table. “Here you go,” he said, holding the box out to Matt. “No Matt. It wasn’t you. It’s all on me. You have nothing to apologize for. I’m not even sure why I said that.” He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. He could feel the effects of the alcohol and knew that it had loosened his tongue some.
“I’ve made an ass of myself and I’m sorry. You honestly didn’t do anything wrong. You’re a nice guy, Matt. Trying to be helpful and I say something stupid.” He paused, thinking. “Forgive me for being thoughtless and rude?”
"Something pithy about alcohol being the poison of reason or whatever." Matt tried for another smile, and landed on forgiving and understanding. He still wasn't quite sure what got them here, but he took the olive branch (and the churros, which he took from Eliot and set between them) for what it was. "Nothing to forgive from where I sit. Just… play me some of your favorite music for a little bit while I present my best arguments to the room for it to stand still, yeah?"
“That’s no excuse though.” Eliot did feel bad. Very bad. Why and how did he manage to fuck up so much? “You’re too nice, Matt, but thank you.” For forgiveness. For not storming out or awkwardly leaving. He made a slight face at hearing the room spinning comment. “I can do that.”
He went to grab his laptop. It had better sound. “I’ve been listening to this a lot lately. It’s been a favorite song for years. It’s called ‘The Blowers Daughter’ by Damien Rice. Do you know it?”
Matt settled back into Eliot's couch again and took up a churro to munch on after he smiled toward his friend and shook his head. "I don't, but I'm looking forward to hearing it. Especially if it's one of your favorites."