Eliot the Spectacular, High King of Fillory (the_spectacular) wrote in helladjacent, @ 2017-07-01 06:57:00 |
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Entry tags: | !jumps: ten years gone, character: eliot waugh, character: jesus |
Who: Eliot and Jesus
What: Eliot and Jesus wake up to a new, boring week
When: Day One
Where: Walking around the hotel
Warnings: Mild language and PDA
Status: Complete
Eliot woke up reasonably early. Closer to nine than ten, which was fairly good for him. He sat up, once again in his Fillorian finest and crown on his head. His eyes went to the door and when he saw a door there-- a completely boring, ordinary door-- he smiled.
The High King of Fillory had not arrived at the hotel with luggage. He did, however, possess reusable shopping bags which he started to fill with clothing. He looked down and considered what he was wearing. Too much, plus Jesus had seen him wake up in his Fillorian clothing before. He immediately started undressing and then started the very important process of picking what the fuck to wear on his first day of freedom.
He settled for dark purple slacks, a white button up shirt and dark purple paisley tie along with some oxford shoes. Clothing had not really been worn much the last week. It had been more of a pajama casual house arrest affair.
Eliot ended up with four shopping bags filled with what he deemed necessary supplies; toiletries in one bag, party favors in another, clothing in the other two. The clothing would get him through a few days until he decided he hated what he picked and went back to his room to exchange. That was fine. Eliot accepted that.
Once he was finished he went next door to Jesus’s room, which really didn’t look any different from his own, and knocked.
It was the principle of the thing.
Jesus never slept late in general, but especially on the first day of the week, he woke up several hours before the sun rose- or when it would have rose, if there was a sun. His stomach was what did it, and the promise of food in the kitchen pulled him out of bed before he could bother checking what time it was.
Mondays were becoming fairly routine for him, but since the addition of a laundry room, he included hanging out in a towel, waiting for his clean clothes with it.
After he was fed, cleaned, trimmed, and his clothes were laundered, he decided to get back into bed. Eliot’s door was back, and his name still on the roster, so considering how normal the hotel looked, Jesus figured he was fine, and sleeping. To his surprise, he managed to drift off again.
He didn’t wake up until there was a knock on his door. He was just wearing his shirt and briefs, and he would have put on pants, but he was taking a chance and betting on Eliot when he opened the door. What he hadn’t been betting on was Eliot with shopping bags. He smiled, but his brow was drawn in confusion for a second before he grinned.
“Taking advantage of your freedom?” he asked.
“I was thinking more like taking advantage of you, but sure. Freedom. Let’s go with that.” Eliot leaned in and kissed the side of Jesus’s face. Then paused and kissed his lips. Then looked down at Jesus’s lack of pants and grinned.
“Fog again. I’ve never seen three weeks in a row of fog. It blows. Want to go on a walk around the hotel? Have you seen any potential signs of fuckery? Any idea what it might be throwing at us this week?”
Jesus rolled his eyes, but kissed Eliot back, and stepped aside so he could come in. They’d been trapped together the last few days, but even after only a few hours by himself again, he found himself missing the company.
It probably had more to do with the fact that he’d been alone for so long than he wanted to admit. It wasn’t just that, but it contributed to it. Everything else was Eliot.
“It looked pretty normal to me,” he said, shutting the door behind him and shrugging. “Library’s normal, kitchen’s normal, pool, laundry room…” He ticked off the various rooms on his fingers. He hadn’t actually gone into the library, but a glance inside was enough. “A walk sounds good. Help us feel less stir crazy.” He went over to where the rest of his clothes were folded neatly on one of the chairs in his room so he could put his pants back on.
Eliot, meanwhile, opened up Jesus’s empty closet and started hanging up some of his things so that they wouldn’t become wrinkled. Not everything, Eliot was actually quite good at packing, just enough so that he wouldn’t feel his clothes crying for help in the back of his mind for being neglected.
The rest of the bags were set down on the floor of the closet and out of the way. He could finish unpacking later. Hanging out in a hotel room was the last thing Eliot wanted to do. Satisfied, he turned to Jesus and offered him a smile and his hand. That was what people who liked each other did, right? They held hands when they walked or sometimes put their arms around each other. Maybe that was needy, but Eliot didn’t care exactly at that moment.
“Well, whatever the hotel has planned this week, I’m sure it’ll show itself eventually.” Eliot sighed but he was slightly less paranoid than the week Michael showed up and he was gifted a sword. Receiving a weapon generally meant having to use it and Eliot was thankful that was not the case.
Jesus tugged on his boots, and then decided he’d wear his vest, knives, gloves, and scarf, too. He’d been out in the fog, and he hadn’t found anything dangerous yet, but there was a first time for everything. That, and he didn’t want to walk around the hotel unarmed.
With a smile that matched Eliot’s, Jesus reached out and took his hand, lacing their fingers together. It’d been so long, and he’d been so detached from everything, he thought he’d forgotten how to do any of this, but he was falling back into it like an old habit.
Only this wasn’t an old habit- it was a new one.
“Take the good when you can get it,” he said. And right now, things seemed fairly okay. Still, he was sort of hoping they’d be somewhere other than fog next week. He grabbed his PDA, and headed out of his room with Eliot. “Did you eat yet?”
“Not yet,” Eliot said. There was both relief and anxiety at the same time when they walked through the hall. His room was small, and suffocating but it was also always safe. Eliot tried to push his unease out of his mind and tugged Jesus a little closer while they walked.
“I could go for some coffee,” Eliot said. Unlike Jesus, he wasn't starved and had the luxury of feeling as though he could safely skip a meal if he felt like it.
Jesus felt it when Eliot pulled him closer, and he gave his hand a squeeze. He didn’t feel the same nerves, since he was happier just to be out and walking around again, but he couldn’t blame Eliot for them, either.
“Coffee sounds good,” he agreed with a nod.
Coffee wasn’t the only thing he’d be getting from the kitchen, though. As soon as they walked through the doorway, Jesus went for more food again even before he got a pot of coffee started. He grabbed a banana and an apple, and debated grabbing a snack for when they were walking outside of the hotel.
“What do you want to do this week?” he asked. Eliot was the one who’d been stuck for a week, after all.
“I don’t know. Maybe practice more sword fighting and battle magic with Godric. You wanna watch him kick my ass?” Eliot smirked, amused. “He was very gracious about it the first time we sparred, and said we could count it as a draw.”
His eyes lit up a moment.
“Ooh. We could start a secret hotel fight club.” Although Eliot wasn’t entirely serious about that. He just thought it sounded more fun than invite people to spar and let off some steam if they wanted. “What do you think? Ballroom?”
Jesus chuckled, looking over at Eliot with a grin.
“You really think starting a fight club is a good idea?” he asked, but he didn’t necessarily think it was a bad one. He hadn’t been able to spar with anyone in a long time, and fighting walking corpses didn’t really count. They didn’t really fight back. He got a pot of coffee started, then hopped up to sit on the counter while he ate his banana. “It could be fun. There’s probably enough people who’d join in.”
“I'm not a violent person and I want to punch things,” Eliot said. He shrugged casually with one shoulder, waiting for the coffee to finish brewing. “Also, not going to lie, it would be a little hot watching you spar.”
Eliot smirked and pulled Jesus close by gripping the clothes at his hip. Leaning in he stole a bite out of Jesus’s banana with a grin.
Jesus smirked, letting Eliot pull him in, moving the banana out of his reach after he took a bite of it.
“If I’m sparring with someone, you definitely have to duel with Godric,” he said. “Do you know how to actually punch things? Like without hurting your hand in the process? I could teach you some things. Doesn’t have to just be punching, either.”
“I’ve punched people before,” Eliot said, sounding just slightly indignant, but he couldn't help the amused smile.
“You know Godric’s sword? The sword from the books that comes out of the sorting hat? He can wield it with one hand. He can beat me with one hand literally tied behind his back.”
Eliot was smirking now. Maybe he was trying to lower Jesus’s expectations just a little.
“Punching people doesn’t mean you know how to fight,” Jesus said, and winked.
He grinned. Nothing Eliot said about Godric surprised him. He looked like the sort of guy who could fight with his eyes closed, or with a drink in one hand, and sword in the other.
“Wasn’t he supposed to be the best duelist of his time?” he asked.
Eliot grinned Jesus, his eyes lit up. He loved Harry Potter, but that was partially to be expected. His life had some things in common with the children who went off to Hogwarts. To hear Jesus spout off some of the nerdier, lesser known lore at the time put him at a whole new level.
“You are such a nerd,” Eliot said, and he couldn't have looked happier about it, leaning in to kiss Jesus.
Jesus hummed against Eliot’s lips as he kissed him back, loosely curling a hand into the front of his shirt. He would have been happy to keep kissing him for a while, but the coffee maker was beeping, and the promise of fresh coffee was a little distracting.
“I’m not that much of a nerd,” he said, sneaking out of Eliot’s grip so he could grab two mugs while the coffee pot filled. “But I did re-read most of the Harry Potter series last week.” Before he’d been trapped in Eliot’s room. He was planning on finishing it, if he could find it again.
“It’s pretty hot,” Eliot said lowly in Jesus’s ear with a smirk. Looking back at the coffee pot, he reached with an arm to pick it up and pour some for them both before replacing it. “Also a little jealous. Also I think Quentin has the Fillory books and you may or may not want to read those in case the hotel ever takes us there. Hopefully it doesn’t.”
Eliot leaned in and started planting kissed along Jesus’s temple and brow.
“I’m really trying to drink coffee but… there’s something more pressing… Hmm.” Eliot smiled, thought about breaking off to drink coffee, and instead kissed Jesus again.
“I’ll borrow them from him some time,” Jesus promised, picking up his coffee mug. He managed to take a sip before Eliot started kissing him, and then he grinned, setting it down so he could kiss Eliot back. One leather gloved hand made its way up to the side of his neck, and he was smiling when he turned his head slightly so he could talk.
“What, seventy-two hours straight wasn’t enough?” he asked, although he definitely wasn’t complaining.
“I haven’t properly welcomed Arthur back yet,” Eliot said. After a few more teasing kisses through his smiles, Eliot finally pulled away to drink from his mug, which he took black.
Jesus snickered and rolled his eyes, but he let Eliot keep kissing him until he was satisfied. He turned to search through the cabinets until he found a bottle of molasses, grabbing a spoon so he could measure out a spoonful before he stirred it into his coffee.
“You’re growing yours out this week, right?” he asked, looking over at him with an eyebrow raised, and taking a sip from his coffee.
“Haven't touched a razor since I woke up,” Eliot promised while crossing himself, despite not being Catholic. “I was just born this pretty.”
He always woke up clean shaven on the first day. It was just one less thing to concern himself with. “Anything you want to do this week besides question my ability to throw a punch?” He smirked.
It turned out there was plenty. Eliot actually started to look forward to a nice, boring week.