Log: Quentin (1) & Eliot Who: Eliot Waugh and Quentin Coldwater (OG) Where: Eliot's Apartment When: May 22 | Evening What: Dinner and a Little Conversation Rating/Warnings: Some swears, otherwise tame Status: Completed via GDocs
Eliot arrived home and fed Luna first thing, giving her a few pets before going to his room, a shower was needed. On almost any other day he would have changed into his pj's but he was having company. He opted for dress pants, a button down shirt and a vest. Some moisturizer, a little cologne, deodorant, some hair product and he was good to go.
Back in the living room he found his phone and placed the food order. He went to the kitchen and made some coffee they could have later. He went back to the living room and sat on the couch. After a few moments he texted Quentin. Foods been ordered, coffee is on. If you're ready and want to come on over you can.
Less than three minutes later, Q was at the door, but instead of knocking, he called through it. "I'm here!"
Quentin did his best to keep a straight face when Eliot was finally in front of him. "This does not make me your Sugar Daddy."
Eliot was waiting for a text back, but was surprised when only a few minutes later he heard Quentin call out at the front door. No knock? Hmmm. He stood, walked over then paused. Q wasn’t the type to play practical jokes, but given that he didn’t knock the thought had run through his head that it was possible. Nah. He wasn’t even going to bother looking through the peephole. He knew Quentin.
He opened the door to something he wasn’t expecting. It was laughter that came out of him. “Damn, Q, thanks for squashing that fantasy,” he teased with a wink. He reached for the vase. “Come on in.” Once inside he took the vase and sat it on the table. “They’re beautiful. I love the color.” And they were. “Thank you so much,” he said, then walked over and gave him a hug. “They’re the perfect color, too. You didn’t have to do that, but I’m glad you did. They give some color to the place. What are they?”
When the hug didn't feel like it was crushing his heart, Q actually let out the tiniest sigh of relief. He could do this. They could be friends. He hadn't had to break out his therapy smile yet, which he took to be another good sign.
"Um. Orchids? There's a label near the base of one of the stems. The lady at the garden center near my work—'cause it turns out there's a garden center right around the block—told me what they were and gave me a card to give you that'll take you to their website where you can find care instructions." He presented it with a small twitch of his fingers. Not actual magic, just a bit of sleight of hand. "We were talking about it, and yeah. I guess I thought I'd get you started on your flower collection or something."
“Well, I love them. They’re gorgeous. The color reminds me of one of Margo’s fabulous coats.” He sighed softly. How he missed her. Part of him wondered if he would ever see her again. The thought was thoroughly depressing and he quickly pushed it down, way down. He took the card and sat it on a shelf. Luna had a way of batting things around and he didn’t want to lose it.
Speaking of his precious baby girl, she came in and was butting her head against his leg. “Look who’s here.” Eliot smiled and knelt down to pick her up. “Q came to visit and I know he’s missed you. I mean, who wouldn’t?” He grinned then walked over and handed the kitten to Quentin.
And, wow, there was the deep throb of pain he'd been expecting way before now. Q swallowed hard as he lifted Luna up and rubbed his cheek against her soft fur. "Why, hello, baby girl. Daddy got a new plant that's going to be okay if you get your little kitty teeth in it and nom on them." He looked up at Eliot with a smile that was way too fond around the edges. "I swear she's doubled in size."
He paused for a moment, still standing near the door, then decided fuck it and got his shoes off and came further into the familiar space. "Not that I don't love sudden invitations to dinner, but what prompted this one?"
Watching Quentin interact with Luna was cute. She brought out the smiles in everyone. “Oh, that’s good to know. I hope she doesn’t knock it over. If she does a feather whooping for her,” he chuckled. “She is getting bigger. Even so, she’ll always be my baby girl.” He gave her a few pets then went to sit on the couch, motioning for Q to join him.
Quentin had a way of asking those unexpected questions, but he couldn’t help wondering if he thought there was some ulterior motive behind the invitation. There wasn’t. He just wanted to spend some time with Quentin and work on getting things back to good. Better. “I wanted to hang out with you. You know, work on things and not walk on eggshells around each other for the rest of our lives.”
As Q sat, he had to push down the slight sting of disappointment, which was patently absurd. He put Luna on his knee so she could wander wherever she wanted, and scratched her between her little ears before she could get too far. He really did miss his afternoon naps with her purring like a motor against his chest. He missed a lot of things, but he wasn't going to think about that. "Gotcha. So where do we start, other than the impending dinner? Small talk? You tell me about all the pieces you've been dream shopping to refill your closet? I can give you the latest watercooler gossip about people you don't know from my work?"
“Small talk is boring,” he grinned. “It’s that thing people do when they don’t know what to say or don’t want to talk to someone, but have to. We talk about whatever. Anything and everything. Our lives. A movie we saw. Anything.” Eliot just didn’t want things to be so strained or weird or whatever all the time. It was too much. He’d spent too much of his life feeling bad, hurt, angry, down and everything in between. “We have our best lives to live. Yes, I said that before, but it’s still true. I want us both to have happy, full lives.” He smiled at Quentin. “Aren’t you tired of feeling… in flux all the time? I want so much for each of us to be happy and for us to be able to just kick and go hang out at the movies or a museum, whatever and just be good. We both know life is fucked up and complicated. There’s good in it though.” Even if it seemed fleeting at times.
“So yeah, we can talk about my dream wardrobe. Your work gossip or anything else. Do you get what I’m saying, Q?” He asked, placing his hand on the other man’s arm. “I’m not saying we can’t be hurt or feel whatever we feel about things, but I’m exhausted with fighting and struggling so hard.”
"It hasn't been a month," Q pointed out after a long silence. While he hadn't counted the days, he'd been far too aware of the passage of time. He couldn't look at Eliot as he said it, also aware of the choice the other had made—for easy instead of the rough edges of whatever Quentin himself had brought to the table. His vision blurred where he looked at the hand on his arm, remembering that touch and so much more, and when he swallowed, it was with an audible click. "I don't want to fight anymore either, but I think I get to be hurt that you gave your fifty years to someone else for a little while longer."
"I know that." He was aware of the passage of time as well for many reasons. "I didn't say you can't be hurt. In fact I said you can be or or anything else you're feeling. For however long you need to be." Those were all things Quentin had to deal with in his own time and way. "I'm trying. Sometimes I don't know if it's helping. Sometimes I feel like my words are ignored, misinterpreted and sometimes you feel cold toward me. I know that's probably all part of the process and dealing with everything. I just can't keep struggling so hard. I can't."
He'd tried to give Quentin a second chance and no, it wasn't the way he wanted it, but life was never easy or fair. They both knew that. Most of the time it was complicated and fucked up. "That's why I invited you to dinner as I said. To start working on us, our friendship. I want us to smile and laugh again and be big dorks." He grinned a little.
At least a dozen reasons, excuses, and explanations got caught up in Quentin’s throat. It felt like rehashing their breakup to death. He took a breath. The kind that filled his lungs to the point of pain before he released it in a slow, almost silent sigh. Still, the ache in his chest remained. "Can we start with dinner and a movie from opposite sides of the couch?"
Because if Eliot tried to cuddle him in any way, Q knew he'd do something desperate. Whether it was run screaming from the place or try to make a move that would be deeply disrespectful towards other-Q was anyone's guess. And Quentin didn't want to find out. "We'll find something we can make fun of."
“Opposite sides of the couch?” He gave Quentin a look then raised an eyebrow. For a moment he thought he was joking around. No, he was being serious. “Oh, okay. I must be way too close at the moment then.” With that he stood. “I’m going to grab a bottled water to have with dinner.”
Eliot wasn’t going to try and cuddle him. Hell, at this point hugs were off the table after how unwell the one he’d given Quentin while thanking him for the flower went. He might as well have been hugging himself. The message was loud and clear - Don’t get close, stay away. Okay, he got it. “I didn’t mean do all three of those tonight. It’s just dinner.” Why Q had even agreed to it in the first place was something he was beginning to wonder about.
He retrieved two waters then sat them on the dining room table. About that time a knock came on the door. Eliot took the bags, tipped the guy then went back to the table where he began setting everything out.
Q's feet directed him to the kitchen on autopilot, where he retrieved plates and bowls, not even realizing what he'd done until he was halfway to grabbing utensils as well. His shoulders drooped, but after a brief pause, he continued and came back with the rest. "Sorry. Force of habit." His mouth lifted at a corner, remembering countless meals at the mosaic, and just how easy it was to fall back into old patterns. "Remember your repeated attempts to make the perfect risotto with only a cook fire? For a while there, I thought your obsession with it was going to surpass all our attempts to find the 'beauty of all life'."
Eliot opened the food and helped himself to a little of what he’d got for himself then took a bite, contemplating as he chewed. “You can take the cook out of the modern era, but you can’t take the cook away from doing what he enjoys. Besides we had to eat and cooking helped take my mind off things.” Particularly in the beginning, but just as it always had in some way even now it gave him a breather from reality or his own thoughts. “We did find it though.” That was a fact they both knew.
"It just took losing you," Q mumbled, mostly to himself, before stuffing a samosa into his face so he could avoid saying anything else like that. Which turned out to be a mistake, because it was hot—both temperature-wise and the spice level. This time his tears weren't emotional, and he had to swallow quickly just so he could down nearly all his water in one go. "Okay, new rule: if I ever say I can handle regular spice, tell me I'm a dumbass and remind me that I grew up in Connecticut. I'm really hoping the actual entree isn't going to kill me, because I'm already having heart palpitations."
Watching Q’s reaction made him wish he’d suggested something else for dinner. Indian food wasn't one of his favorites, but there were a few things he liked, and he didn’t mind compromising most of the time when it came to food. “Careful, it’s hot.” Thankfully what he’d ordered for himself was mildly spicy. He wasn’t fond of spicy hot. Eliot stood and went to the kitchen to grab a couple more bottles of water. He sat them on the table then went back to his chair. “I have some leftover brownies if you want dessert. Or you can take them with you if you’re full.”
Q snorted, more or less convinced that Eliot was teasing him, and grabbed the extra water gratefully. In doing so, he came across a couple of small containers of mango chutney and mint cilantro chutney. He felt like a dumbass for not looking for them in the first place, since they were pretty standard fare and went a long way toward cutting some of the heat. Fortunately, he was right, and he was able to finish his samosas before starting on his entree. "Maybe we could save the brownies for during the movie? Speaking of, what should we watch?"
His plate was nearly empty and Eliot pushed it off to the side, feeling full. Why did he always seem to order too much when he got take out? He drank down some water then gave Quentin a look. "Q, I said earlier we're not watching a movie tonight. It's just dinner." Had he misunderstood? Not been listening? Wanted to watch a movie? It was a work week and he'd rather do take out and a movie on the weekend when there was more time and he didn't have to be up in the morning.
"Oh." Quentin had very obviously misinterpreted the "two out of three" they'd discussed earlier. Or that Eliot had told him, since there hadn't really been a discussion at all. He looked at his own mostly untouched food and wondered when El had had time to finish all of his. Probably when Q was being dramatic about his samosas. He felt like an idiot, and like they were teetering on yet another fight. Why was he always so much better over the network? Why couldn't he ever find the right things to say, or at least the ones that wouldn't leave things feeling so fraught with tension?
"I, uh, I can just wrap this up and get out of your hair, then." He tried for a smile and found one that fit naturally on his face that didn't seem like he was faking. And he wasn't. Not really. He was disappointed, but this wasn't the last time he was going to see Eliot ever again or anything. "Save me a brownie for when we do manage to do a movie night?"
"I'm not rushing you out the door or anything, Q," Eliot assured him. The other was so easy to read most of the time. "I invited you to dinner and to hang out. We'll do a movie some other night when we don't have to be up for work." He chuckled and shook his head. "No need to wrap anything up. Eat. I'm going to go get the brownies and make a cup of coffee. I'll be right back."
Several minutes later Eliot returned with coffee and brownies in tow. "I don't know who invented the Keurig, but bless them, it's so handy and convenient at times." Especially on those mornings when he couldn't seem to wake up and needed an instant shot of caffeine. "How's work going?" He asked taking a brownie from the container they'd been stored in.
No eggshells. That was the silent mantra going through Q's head as he put a dent in his much less spicy dinner. Still, after the heavy fried samosas, he really wasn't all that hungry, so he sealed it up for some other day. He chuckled and sat back a bit, rather pleased with himself for not raining on Eliot's parade by pointing out the environmental unsustainability of those drink cups. It was very likely El knew about it already, but sometimes creature comforts simply had to trump ethical consumerism. Quentin knew he was guilty of it occasionally too. Probably far more than he really realized it.
"It's going well, I think. There's so much red tape and hoops you have to jump through to find and secure the funding our clients need, but it's totally worth it to see them thrive. I never thought I'd have to learn how to perfect a grant proposal, yet here we are." Q thought about Lily, but didn't bring her into the conversation, largely because it was early days and because he didn't want to drag her business out all over when she hadn't given the okay. "What about you? What's it like, clothing the important people?"
Eliot sipped his coffee and listened to Quentin talk about his work. “It sounds like you’re doing well,” he smiled. “And it sounds like you’re busy and learning a lot. That’s good that you’ve found something you enjoy. Far too many people work because they have to get no joy from it. I hope I never have a job like that,” he added. The words weren’t meant to be spoken out loud, but somehow they’d found themselves rolling off his tongue. “Do you hate wearing a suit everyday?” He grinned and couldn’t help a small chuckle escaping him. Quentin would forever be ‘comfy clothes’ to him.
He took a bite of the brownie followed by coffee. “Let's go sit on the couch. It’s more comfortable. Don’t worry about any of this, I’ll clean it up later.” He picked up his mug then moved to the couch. “Work is going well. I may be the low man on the totem pole, but I’m learning a lot. I have a couple of nice co-workers and a few assholes and bitches. You really can’t escape the latter no matter where you go. I’m loving the summer collection that’s in. God, I want to buy half of it. I’m getting there though. The ‘Eliot Waugh Wardrobe Fund’ is growing everyday.”
Luna finally made an appearance. “Hey, baby girl. Look who’s here.” He sat his mug on a coaster on the table then leaned down to pick her up. She had that sleepy look about her as he cuddled and pet her.
"I just want to help people." It wasn't the fantasy life he'd built up for himself when he was a kid, the one he'd tried so desperately to make for himself when they all found out Fillory was real. What a garbage fire that had all turned out to be. Q was helping in a different way, now. Not saving people, but helping them to save themselves. A far cry from the academic life he probably could have gone into like his AU-double—and good for him, honestly, but he was glad for the opportunities to make a difference in whatever small way he could.
He followed Eliot to the living room area and got at settled as he could be, given their earlier conversation. His unease didn't last very long, not when he got just as caught up in Eliot's enthusiasm and color commentary as he always did. Quentin laughed, but it wasn't as his friend's expense or anything. "You'll get there, I know. And then we'll all be blinded by your splendor whenever you go down to the corner store for more wet food for Luna."
Sitting forward just enough to reach out, Q scratched behind the kitten's ears. "Hello, little miss. It's nice to see you again."
"I'm glad it's going well for you. How's the gossip around the water cooler?" He grinned with a chuckle. "Any hot interoffice romances going on?" He teased further. Luna rolled over onto her back and he scritched her belly making her playfully claw at his hand. "Such a tough girl," he cooed with a smile. "In all my splendor to buy food for Luna?" He looked up at Quentin and started laughing. "I thought I was already doing that," he winked.
He sat Luna on the couch so she could go to Q if she wanted. "I did buy a fedora. I had planned to wear it, but then the plans fell through. Still, I look sharp in it." That had been over a month ago. Eliot reached for his coffee and took a drink. "How are you doing? How's therapy going?"
"I may have been exaggerating the amount of gossip in my office. And the presence of an actual water cooler, since we just use the fridge and keep bottled waters on hand for our clients. Any 'gossip'"—Q air quoted—"is usually just us complaining about the government and bank officials making our lives harder and holding up the process on the loans and grants we're trying to get. Suuuuper fascinating stuff, let me tell you." He rolled his eyes, but appreciated Eliot for asking. "Not even any scandalous or salacious office romances to be had."
His answering smile and curiosity about El's plans melted away as he sat very still and waited for Luna to decide if she wanted in his lap or not. When she did, it meant he had to wince his way through her needle-like claws making the climb up his thigh until she was curled up in his lap. "It's fine. It's therapy, y'know? They started me on a low dose antidepressant, and I guess there have been some advancements between when we came from to now because I haven't noticed any side effects yet. And it doesn't seem to be doing anything to my magic either, which leads credence to the Dean Fogg Was Full of Shit theory. What about you? Not therapy, obviously, but just sort of the deal with everything?"
Eliot laughed and shook his head. "Noooo, not you. I guess the water cooler is a thing of the past. The gossip happens around the coffee pot or maker now. At least it does where I work. The juiciest gossip at the moment is that Tyler has a crush on Stephen, a higher up who thinks he's better than everyone. His nose is permanently brown from all the ass kissing he does. Men." He sighed dramatically then chuckled.
"That's good that it's going well." Eliot shrugged. "I think Dean Fogg had his reasons for not wanting you to take your meds. Maybe there were reasons he couldn't or didn't want to share. There was a lot of fucked up stuff there, so." He always thought it may have had something to do with Quentin being a new magician, but who really knew? "I'm doing alright. Good and bad days. Things with Q are good, work is busy, but great." Everything else was what it was. He took it as it came, one day at a time.
He finished his coffee and sat the mug on the table. "So, you've got a birthday coming up, what do you want?" He smiled.
With his attention on the cat on his lap, Quentin genuinely hoped Eliot wouldn't notice the way his jaw twitched at the mention of his doppel. Why would you bring up your current boyfriend with your ex? he wanted to ask, but didn't. Not when things were going okay. After a quick reshuffling of his thoughts and some very healthy compartmentalizing, he found he could smile and be happy for his best friend. Q snorted a laugh that nearly upset Luna, but he settled a hand over her back and she calmed again. "Fucked up was pretty much our entire grad school experience when I showed up with Penny, Alice, and Kady. But I guess if you've been trapped in a time loop for forty times, you're allowed to be a little fucked up, too. I'm happy for you, El. I've only ever wanted good things for you. I'm glad you're finding them here."
His mind blanked out for a second as he consulted his mental calendar. "Not for another two months or so." Q chuckled and gently rubbed his finger between the kitten's ears. He knew what he wanted, but it was a selfish wish that didn't deserve to be spoken aloud. "Books, though. Always books. You know me."
"Welcome to Brakebills, where everything is fucked up," Eliot said with wave of his hands followed by laughter. "Definitely memorable though. Lots of adventures and all that." He didn't want to dwell on any of it for too long at the moment. "Thanks, Q. It's not perfect, but what is? You know I want the same for you." He always had and always would.
"It will be here before you know it. Yours is the next one of the magicians here. Gotta start planning early." He wondered how this birthday would be with two Quentin's there which led to him wondering if the two would ever be friends. He truly didn't know. Everything was complicated and fucked up as usual. He… they all really needed a break. Hear that, universe? Give us a fucking break for once. He sighed and sat his arm on the back on the couch then propped his head up on his hand and looked at Quentin. "No. No books. You always ask for and get books. You have to give me some other ideas. This is a book free birthday. At least from me," he grinned.
An honest-to-goodness whine of protest left Q before he could claw it back, and his face made the most terrific pout without his say-so. "But… I like books." Was he being petulant? Probably. Did it matter? Not really. "Well, now I can't think of anything else I want, since you're Mr. Puts People On the Spot Two Months Before Their Birthday. You should think about getting that changed. It's too much of a mouthful. No, but really, I have to think about it. Or you can just surprise me. You know me better than most people." Possibly more than Julia, but he didn't say that. He was so good at not saying so many things. "Whatever you might get me, I know I'll love it."
“Whine all you like. It won’t change my mind. No books for you this year. None.” His grin widened then he laughed. “The pout won’t work either.” Nope, not at all. “Pffft, please, my birthday is over three months away and I could list off a dozen things I’d like as a gift, but fiiiine, I’ll give you some time to think about it.” Surprise gifts were fine and all that, but Eliot wanted to get Q something he actually wanted. “Besides if you leave it to me surprising you you might end up getting something like a flaming pink scarf with dick dangly charms hanging off the fringe. Yes, flaming pink is a color.” He nodded and did his best to keep a straight face, but his lips were twitching on the verge of betraying him and sliding into a grin once more.
"Okay, okay, okay! Fine, I'll find some things that aren't books." Luna lifted her head to fix Q with a disapproving glare when his laughter woke her up fully. He rolled his head over to look at El as Luna used his leg to climb back down to the floor. It felt like penance. His smile didn't. "You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Waugh, but I acquiesce to your request."
“I always get my way.” He laughed, feeling pretty good for once when hanging out with Quentin. Hopefully they would keep moving in that direction. “You bet your sweet ass I do and don’t forget it!” He booped Quentin on the nose with his finger.