WHO Eliot Waugh and Tim Stoker WHERE Tim's room WHEN Day 1 of week 16 WHAT Eliot checks to make sure Tim is alive, they swap war stories about their scars, and are generally just cute STATUS Complete WARNINGS Language, mild NSFW moments, talk of trauma/body harm
The bed was slightly different and the pillow crinkled in a way that the old one had not. Vanya was still in the bed next to his, and the shape of the room was more square than rectangle. He sat up slowly in his suit to investigate. It was dark outside his window, too dark to tell where they were or ended up. Though there were lights that made him wonder if they were on Earth, somewhere modern? They would find out soon enough.
The closet was smaller, and shared. Eliot did not like that change at all. He missed the new outfit hung up in the closet for him, as he had spent enough time collecting clothing from other worlds to start to make an okay sized wardrobe. Instead he opened the door expecting to stare out into the hallway but instead saw an expansion of their private quarters.
He did a double take at the private bathroom. Oh thank god. He could make this work. The living space was mostly empty, but that could be taken care of.
Good, good. But Eliot didn’t stop to explore just yet. He had something more important to check on and yet another door led him into a more familiar looking hallway. He was, more or less, next to the end of the hall with just one room between him and the exit. Eliot couldn’t be certain, but Tim had been in that room last week, and as long as things weren’t completely fucked up…
He knocked first before noticing a button for the doorbell and pressed.
He really hoped it was Tim he was waking up at that ungodly hour.
He couldn’t recall the time between he was left awake and lingering nearby, though in a ghostly state, and waking up back in his corporeal form in the bed he’d been assigned when he’d arrived and yet… hardly had a chance to actually sleep in.
It was the ringing of what distinctly sounded like a half-broken doorbell that jarred him from his sleep. The fog was slow to lift, but when it did he took a moment to take in his surroundings. Hands felt over his body and -- oh, thank fuck he was actually back in his body. Tim would’ve been lying if he’d said he hadn’t been at least a little worried that he’d wind up stuck as a ghost despite the reset.
The bell rang again. He shifted to climb out of the not-exactly-comfortable twin bed and glanced at his watch to see what time it was. “What the hell,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair before looking around the room. Well… that was a bit different, wasn’t it? Tim blinked in confusion, realizing that things definitely didn’t look the same as they had the day before and as he wandered out of the bedroom, he paused. This was a dorm, right? Not a flat? Because it looked more like a flat now, even if there were appliances missing from the kitchen area. Huh. He’d explore later.
That was when he realized who it might’ve been at the door and he went over to it, not even giving it a second thought before he unlocked it and pulled the door open to see Eliot standing there in the hall. His breath caught in his throat for a moment before he just closed the gap between them, both of his arms wrapping tightly around the other man’s shoulders in a hug that had felt like it had been months in the making.
“Oh thank fuck,” Eliot exhaled, their bodies practically clapping together in the embrace. It felt good to be able to see Tim, to hold him. He would check on the others, naturally, particularly Dan and Fen, but he was much less concerned that they weren’t alive and well again now that he could see it for himself.
Eliot was in no mood to let go, instead holding Tim and reassuring himself that not everything was completely fucked.
Honestly, Tim wasn’t in much of a mood to let go either. He’d been desperate to get back into his body for days just so he could do exactly what they were doing right there. What did it matter that it was almost four in the morning? He’d never wanted to hug someone so bad in his life. Well, okay, that wasn’t exactly true, but this was definitely a top five moment.
After a bit of time, one of his hands rose to gently cup at the back of Eliot’s head as he pulled away just enough to be able to look at him for a moment before pressing his forehead to his.
“It’s ridiculous that I’ve missed you, yeah?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. It seemed rude to speak any louder than that. But he chuckled and finally lowered a hand to take Eliot’s, pulling him into the room so that the door could close. Hugging in the hallway was great, but he’d much prefer having him to himself in the privacy of his own space.
Eliot gave his new room just the briefest of glances. Private bathroom, tiny kitchenette area and living space, bedroom door— and then he lost interest in it entirely for the man right in front of him.
“Mhm,” Eliot nodded. “Completely.”
And that’s when Eliot closed the gap between them to kiss Tim savagely, taking out all his anxieties and concerns with affection.
Well. Perhaps not all of them. Eliot had a terrible thought, one that he attempted to kiss away. Last week they’d started out fucking and Tim had ended up dead. What if it was bad luck? What if they needed to discover first what sort of week they would be having first? What if—
No, Eliot was still kissing Tim. His anxious thoughts slowly melting away with the warmth of Tim’s body. Eliot had one arm wrapped around Tim’s back to keep him close, and another planted on his ass to give it a good squeeze.
The relief he felt when Eliot’s mouth found his was something he wasn’t sure he’d be able to coherently explain if needed. As if he’d been afraid that despite the things that had happened, before and after their memories had returned, Eliot would realize that maybe it had been a mistake. That maybe everything had just come about from high emotions and the fact that Tim was dead.
That was enough to make people feel things that maybe weren’t real, right?
Except now he wasn’t dead and instead he was being kissed almost breathless by the one person he’d been wanting to even just touch ever since Not Ted had gotten to him in the Library.
Tim returned the kiss with fervor and brought his hands up, cradling the sides of Eliot’s face, trying to show him just how badly he’d wanted this. Wanted him. Conveying those feelings without words.
Eliot started to peel off layers of clothing, starting with the jacket. This time it didn’t matter to him that it ended up on the floor— he had others. It was when he removed the vest and tie, Eliot realized the air conditioning was on full blast, working overtime to keep the room cool. He felt it through his dress shirt and shivered just slightly.
Right, out in the living room area it was sparse. Eliot carefully walked Tim backwards into his bedroom, made quick work of their clothes, and-- fuck they really needed a larger bed.
Of all the problems they could be facing within the coming hours and days, it seemed a small thing, but it was the only problem that mattered right in that moment.
They’d just have to get creative.
Everything about this, about him, felt so familiar now that letting him undress him like that was almost the most natural thing in the world. Though those damn boots -- why? Ugh. Still, he managed to get out of them and everything else, eventually just left in the boxer-briefs he was wearing as his legs bumped at the small twin bed in his room that felt almost too large because of it.
A smile pulled at the corners of his mouth and he reluctantly broke the kiss, nipping gently at Eliot’s lower lip, his thumbs stroking lightly over his cheeks as he held his face.
Tim opened his eyes enough to look at him with a dopey sort of pleased expression, though maybe that was because he was still a little sleepy. Either way, there was just a moment where he wanted to be sure that this is what Eliot wanted -- they’d rushed into sleeping with one another the week before with no recollection of who they were, but now they had all of that back. He knew he didn’t need to ask though.
Eliot had made it very clear this was what he wanted.
He tilted his chin enough to brush his lips over the other’s, one of his hands lowering between them, the back of his fingers dragging along his skin down over his chest, abdomen, and stomach. Tim paused when he felt the rough patch of skin where the scar was and he glanced down to look at it as his fingertips moved as if drawing an invisible outline of it.
Eliot escalated before Tim could ask about the scar. If they started trading war stories now, it might make it more difficult to enjoy each other’s company in other ways. For all Eliot knew, they could be slaughtered by more Murder Bears. Didn’t they deserve a little bit of happiness before things got more fucked up again?
The second time was arguably better than the first. The first was sweet with two men who seemed content and had nothing to prove. This time? Perhaps Eliot was trying too hard to impress, but he could be very impressive when he wanted to be. There was a bit of desperation to the affair. He didn’t care how loud they were or bother wondering if the walls were thick enough to drown out the noise. None of that mattered.
Being the greatest lover Tim ever had? (Or his top three, at least.) Somehow that was what seemed the most important at the time. Petty, insecure, but…
Eliot was trying his best.
Impressive was certainly an apt description and by the time they had both finished, every muscle in Tim’s body felt that gentle but pleasant sort of ache that came from a particularly good fuck.
With a tired chuckle, he fell to the small mattress and pulled Eliot down to him, smiling as he pressed a sweet, but hungry kiss to his lips. He really liked kissing him. A lot. “You know, I could get used to this whole having-sex-with-you-after-a-reset thing,” he mused with a grin.
Tim shifted to try and get more comfortable — the size of the bed for two men who were at least six feet tall each made that difficult — his head resting against Eliot’s shoulder, legs tangled together in the sheets.
He paused a moment, letting a quiet settle between them, before tilting his head just enough to look over at him in the half-dark of the room, admiring him.
Eliot took a few minutes to catch his breath. Was this getting older? Somehow he didn’t remember ever getting this winded during marathon sessions in his twenties. If not for stunning acts of athleticism and technique, what did people do? Rely on feelings and intimacy? Fuck.
He needed something to drink, but Eliot didn’t move from his spot. The two tangled up were tentatively comfortable and he didn’t mind being used as a human body pillow. If they moved, he knew they would never settle into this comfortable of a position for the rest of the night. What was a little dehydration among friends?
“It seems like as good a time as any,” Eliot said. “Before we figure out just how fucked we actually are.”
Eliot glanced at Tim, his fingers tracing one of his lover’s scars.
“Should we get swapping scar stories out of the way now, or pretend we don’t notice them out of politeness?”
Well, he had a point there. Might as well take advantage of the peace and quiet while they had it; Tim had wound up dead (again) after all.
Most of the time he almost forgot about the small scars that were scattered over parts of him. His face, neck, and arms looked like they’d been hit with some sort of chicken pox in more recent years and left his skin dotted in odd places. The truth of the matter was far darker. Tim laid there and let his eyes close momentarily, the feeling of Eliot’s finger tracing a scar soothing, in a way.
“We noticed them before, but… y’know. Didn’t know where they came from then.” His voice was soft when he responded, eyes opening again to look at him. “Though at that time, you seemed pretty fucked up over seeing yours,” he added, lifting his head enough to glance down at the healed over gash on Eliot’s stomach.
Tim breathed out a quiet sigh. He really was curious what had happened to cause that.
He settled his head back down against his shoulder and looked up at him. “A woman who was no longer a woman was infested with these little silver worms. And those worms were trying to infest us -- erm, the few of us down in the archives, anyway. They clearly managed to burrow in quite a lot of me before we killed them,” he said, lifting an arm to look at the smattering of pale dots.
Eliot frowned thoughtfully. “That leads me to about a hundred more questions but I do not need to ask them now if you don’t feel like talking about it.”
Eliot remembered when Tim first arrived. He should have given him more attention, but he was so convinced that he had a way out. Tim had his full attention now. Eliot combed his fingers through Tim’s shorter blonde hair.
It was his turn, wasn’t it?
“For about a year I was possessed by a god-killing monster. Margo found a magic axe that could force him out, but she had to actually use said axe for it to work.”
“You can ask whatever questions you want to,” he replied gently, lowering his arm again, hand coming down to rest against his own stomach as he laid there. There was nothing happy about any of the answers he’d probably have for him, though.
When Eliot began to explain where his own scar came from, Tim was quiet. The mental image that immediately came to mind as he said she actually had to use the axe was gruesome and his expression changed, concern pulling his eyebrows together and a frown firm on his lips.
“I’m sorry,” he started, pausing for a moment.
He wondered if a magic axe could have killed the monster that had taken Sasha. Had replaced her for the last year without him being none the wiser. “She practically had to gut you to get the monster out?”
“More like, the monster would have snapped her neck if she hadn’t caught him by surprise. There wasn’t a lot of room to be delicate about it.”
Eliot remembered all of it. It should have been comforting that he wasn’t the one in control, but the fact that he remembered any of it at all made it difficult. He decided against asking more questions about the scars. They needed a happier subject to talk about.
Eliot kissed the top of Tim’s head. He wanted to add that it all worked out, but it hadn’t. Quentin died in order to protect the world. And now he was here.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Eliot said. That he could say.
He still couldn’t quite imagine how that whole scenario had gone down. Eliot, possessed by a monster that could kill gods, getting an axe to the stomach in order to save his life. He supposed desperate times called for desperate measures — Tim knew all about those. Fuck, he’d blown himself up on purpose in the midst of one particularly desperate time.
Tim smiled a bit at the kiss and he shifted, rolling over onto his side. Sure, it was going to ruin the currently comfortable position they were in, but oh well.
He propped himself up, an elbow digging into the pillow and his head in his hand as he looked down at Eliot. His other arm draped over his middle, legs re-tangled easily. Or as easily as they could be with the space they were allotted. “I’m glad I’m here, too.” His fingertips made lazy strokes against Eliot’s side and he leaned down, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. “I didn’t think I would be after everything that happened. I mean, you know I showed up here in a pretty dark place.”
“Understandably so,” Eliot said. He tried not to think about Julia’s words. Tim was dead in his world and if he disappeared here, he would presumably go back to being dead. Eliot tried not to think about that, either, and made a pleased sound when Tim kissed him again.
“Let’s sleep in,” Eliot said. “Let someone else report back on where we ended up.”
Eliot wrapped his arms around Tim, expecting wherever they ended up to be dangerous as easily as it could be pleasant. It seemed only fair to let someone else do the exploring and take the risk. He’d done the heavy lifting in Fillory.
Didn’t they both deserve a break?
The idea of going back to being dead — something he wasn’t even entirely positive of back in his world simply because of the timing — had crossed his mind a few times since his arrival. He’d pushed the button, but everything after that was a complete unknown to him. Or maybe that just meant there was nothing after death for him. Except pocket worlds that liked to hijack people at random, for some reason.
But what would happen if Derleth decided it was done with him? If there was an afterlife that he hadn’t gotten to yet, would he even remember this place?
Tim sighed gently as Eliot’s arms wrapped around him and he let his head lower back down to the pillow, though he nuzzled his face against Eliot’s neck and smiled. “Having a lie in with you would be really nice,” he murmured. “And then maybe we can have a shower together in my super fancy private bathroom,” he added with a chuckle, nipping at a patch of his skin on his neck before soothing it with a kiss.
“Maybe this is a bit much and I’m sorry if it is, but you’re welcome to stay here whenever you like, yeah?”
“Mm, heaven,” Eliot agreed. Sleep in, shower. Enjoy one another’s company? Anything to avoid thinking or feeling responsible for anyone here. Who the fuck did he think he was forming a welcoming committee? Hadn’t the letter he enchanted been mostly to absolve him of having to talk to welcome anyone at all?
When Tim apologized for being a bit much, however, Eliot frowned thoughtfully.
He didn’t want to say what he was actually thinking. Because that would bring up the fact that people disappeared and this could all be temporary. And that would mean Tim would go back to being dead, because apparently Eliot’s type was tragedy.
“Good, because I do not have nearly enough closet space,” Eliot said, choosing to smile instead.
That made Tim chuckle quietly. “Oh, is that all I am to you? Extra closet space for your three piece suits?” He was grinning though and he lifted his head enough to look down at him again.
Though that prompted a question that came to mind. What was he to Eliot? He didn’t think on it too hard, because why did it need to be anything other than what it was? They seemed to like one another and enjoy each other’s company. Did it need to be more than that? Still. Tim couldn’t help acknowledging to himself that he definitely felt something for him.
“What made you come over here, by the way?” he asked, his voice a bit gentler now. He was honestly just curious. “To check on me, I mean.”
“Closet space and a hot piece of ass,” Eliot said, his face completely lit up by a smile that did not entirely match the teasing. He was genuinely happy to be there.
His expression softened slightly, when Tim asked why Eliot had come. Obviously there were other people hurt he could have looked in on. Tim was the closest, but if Eliot said that it would sound… dismissive. Was that the reason?
“To be fair, with the rooms changed, I wasn’t actually sure if you were over here or if I was waking some rando up,” Eliot said. Did that sound worse or more desperate to make sure Tim was alright? “I knew it was too early to ask on the network, no one would be awake to check their phone so… I took a chance. Just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
Something about that smile on Eliot’s face made Tim flush, just a little, and he grinned as he pressed a playful kiss to his cheek. “You’re a pretty hot piece of ass yourself, you know.”
He nestled back in against him, limbs draped every which way, and his eyes closed as he let out a quiet sigh when he relaxed. No matter what they would find outside of this room, somehow Tim felt completely at peace in this moment as he laid there with him. At least he knew they were both safe while they were in here.
“Thanks for taking a chance and checking on me,” he replied, his voice quiet. Even if it had just been a matter of convenience since their rooms were neighboring, it still made Tim feel like he mattered knowing that Eliot wanted to make sure he was okay. Alive. “If I’d woken up first, your door would’ve been the first one I knocked on, too.”
“For that sweet, sweet ass,” Eliot spoke quietly into Tim’s ear. It wasn’t that he couldn’t be sincere. He was just trying to keep things light. He nestled and shifted against Tim, trying to recapture their earlier level of comfort on a very small bed. It meant being closed and tangled in one another but for now that was fine.
“Sleep now, hot shower sex later,” Eliot mumbled. He closed his eyes, though he could not tell how tired he actually was. Exhausted? Or just emotionally wiped out? Were they really two different things?
Tim was safe for now. Quentin was alive. No one was trying to murder them. That was all that mattered.