Quentin and Eliot find themselves sharing dreams and are back in Old Fillory with their son and some really good memories.
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N/A, it's pretty sweet and fluffy, tbh
Quentin felt his eyes open; his lungs filled with familiar, sweet air that he hadn't breathed in for a long time. There was a quiet rustling sound nearby and birds chirping. The sleep fell from his eyes as easy as anything and the world around him came into view. Blink, blink. Was he where he thought he was? Was this Vallo playing tricks on him? He looked around - there was their little cottage, half remodeled on the outside, with an in progress mosaic scattered in front of it. His heart instantly swelled, pushing itself up into his throat. No, this wasn't Vallo, but it also wasn't Fillory. But it wasn't not Fillory, either. There was something about what he was seeing, feeling that made him know that this wasn't exactly real... but fuck, it felt real.
"Hello?" he called out, looking around. Was anyone even home? Would anyone be home? Almost as if on cue, the cottage door opened and out came their son. Teddy. His eyes welled with tears as the small boy, who couldn't have been older than five, ran along the dirt path to where he was and promptly jumped into his lap for a hug. "Oh! There you are, sweetheart," he murmured as his arms wrapped around him. "Where's your papa? Where's Eliot?"
He wished Eliot was there, his Eliot; this was something he desperately wanted to share with him, even if it wasn't as real as he would've liked.
The sound of birds calling roused Eliot, his eyes blinking open. He looked around at the forest that surrounded him, where was he? It was familiar yet not. Beside him sat a basket filled with apples. What was going on? Was he dreaming? He pinched himself. No, he was awake and that's when for the first time he noticed not only the air, but the energy of it. His eyes went wide when it dawned on him where he was, but that couldn't be. His back complained slightly as he pushed off the tree he'd been laying against and got to his feet. He picked up the basket and headed toward the one place that he knew, the one place he thought wouldn't actually be there because this was just a dream, just his mind playing tricks on him.
Teddy hugged his father then shrugged a little. "He left. Maybe he's hiding. We should look for him daddy," he said excitedly thinking maybe they were playing a game. Teddy liked games and it felt like it had been a long time since they'd played the familiar game.
The closer Eliot drew to the cottage, the faster his heart beat. When it came into sight Eliot's heart swelled and he blinked his eyes several times. There was Quentin with their son, Teddy. Could it be? The basket dropped from his hand and he literally ran to them. His gaze went from one to the other before he quickly knelt down and took Teddy from Quentin, wrapping his arms around him. "Teddy," he whispered as tears filled his eyes. He pressed a kiss to his temple and held him close.
"You're right, we should look for him." Quentin chuckled a bit, but before he had a chance to move much, he spotted Eliot coming out of the clearing near the back side of the little house. "Oh! I found him," he said, pointing toward the other man with a bright smile. Was this his Eliot? He couldn't be certain, at first, but he watched as the basket of apples fell to the ground and Teddy was scooped up in his arms.
The sight of it - something he was positive he would never see again - made the tears that had been threatening to surface finally push their way up, welling in his eyes, and he looked up at Eliot.
Teddy, on the other hand, squealed and giggled. "Papa! We found you!"
Quentin just sat there and watched, awestruck and feeling his heart swell to the point of bursting. "El?" he asked, his voice hushed. "I--I feel like I'm dreaming." It had to be a dream; logically, he knew that, but Gods he wanted it to be real so badly.
"Yes, you did," Eliot said, trying to keep his voice even, but it wasn't happening. He held Teddy close a few moments longer before he pulled back and looked him over. "You're getting so big. Growing like a weed," he smiled through his tears as he ruffled his hair.
"I'm not a weed," Teddy protested with a giggle pushing at Eliot's hand.
"No, you're a big boy. Look at you." He smiled again, tears still standing in his eyes. He stood and looked to Quentin. "Don't say anything," he said, reaching for his hand and giving it a squeeze. Eliot didn't know what all this was. A dream or real, but he didn't care either way. He was in Fillory with Quentin and their son. It felt real. It felt good and he was going to let it be what it was. "Lets not overthink it, okay?" He pressed a sweet kiss to his lips.
"And you," he turned back to Teddy, "why don't you go play for a little bit while I talk to daddy and later you can have a special treat." He gave Teddy another hug then sat him down. He ran off to some toys near the mosaic and began to play. Without a word Eliot turned to Quentin and pulled him into a tight hug.
With Teddy's attention focused on Eliot, he took the opportunity to turn his head and wipe his eyes against the linen fabric of the shirt he found himself wearing. It smelled of sweat and dirt -- earth. It smelled like home. With a quiet sniffle, he looked back to Eliot when he addressed him and gave him a tearful smile. "No overthinking, I promise." Then their lips met and he closed his eyes, letting out a quiet sound of relief.
No, this was definitely his Eliot. He could tell. He looked like him, he felt like him, even with the change in clothing and appearance. Somehow he could just see it in the way their eyes had met.
He had questions, but didn't want to ruin this somehow. Instead he just let it be and once Teddy had run off toward his toys, he turned toward Eliot just in time to find the other man's arms around him in a tight hug. It pulled a quiet whimper (or was it a sob?) from him and he instantly buried his face against the crook of his neck, his own arms slipping around him to hug him in return.
Eliot smiled and nodded. They could both easily overthink things or simply let it be, enjoy this time and not worry about what, when or even why. For the moment he held Quentin not wanting to let go. He could feel and plainly see how emotional he was. He pressed several kisses to the top of Quentin's head. "He's beautiful. Just like I remember him." He swallowed hard around the lump in his throat. It was like they had never left, at least to Teddy. He wouldn't want it any other way. He wouldn't want to cause Teddy any distress or pain.
Finally Eliot pulled back enough to look into Quentin's face. "We're home." There were a million things he could ask, he could say, but those two words were the most important. "Remember how we fought in the beginning over this thing?" He turned them toward the mosaic. "We shared our first real kiss here." Yes, there had been the threesome, but they had been on emotion potion and drunk. While it was good, he didn't consider it their first kiss. "And if my memory serves me correctly, you kissed me first." He grinned softly at Quentin. "So much began to change for us after that." He turned his gaze to Teddy who waved at them.
Coming from one reality to another, from their own world to Vallo, had been one thing. Jarring, scary, unwelcome to an extent. But this? His heart and brain were fighting over the logistics of it, when all he wanted was to be happy to be there. Yes, it wasn't real - not really - but that didn't stop it from feeling real. Teddy had been whole in his arms, and now Eliot's around him felt more solid than anything.
Quentin sniffled and smiled through his tears, wiping at his cheeks carefully to turn his head, looking over the mosaic. "Fuck, I can't believe we're here again," he replied quietly, looking at each spot as Eliot went over the memories. The remark on the kiss made him chuckle and he looked back over to him, taking in his expression. "I did kiss you first. I needed to shoot my shot, so I did."
When Eliot turned his head to look back at Teddy, he leaned over and pressed a soft, wet kiss to the corner of his mouth. "I don't know how you're here, too. In this dream with me. But god, I'm glad for it."
"It was short and sweet...like you." Eliot chuckled and gave Quentin another squeeze. It was a memory he would never forget and treasure forever. "I'm glad you took the chance. It led to a beautiful life." Life at their cottage wasn't always easy, but Eliot knew how very happy Quentin had been here, and in truth, how happy he himself had been. After everything the last several months, it didn't matter why they were there. It was a happy place and the both needed more of that, bittersweet as it may be.
"Maybe it's because we're bound together." He smiled at the kiss. "One way or another we'll find our way back to each other." Even in Old Fillory. That was on the sappy side, but Quentin was the only one who brought it out in him and most of the time he didn't mind. He loved the man as he'd never loved another. Eliot watched Teddy contently playing. He'd never imagined himself as a father, but wouldn't trade being Teddy's for anything. He had vowed to be the father he'd never had for their son.
"Why don't we go join Teddy?" Who knew how long they'd be there. It could be five days or five years. Either way, he didn't want to waste a moment.
It had been, as far as Quentin was concerned, something made just for them. This life. That quest. It had all been for that key he'd given Jane, but god, he wouldn't have traded having those memories for anything. And now here they were, smack dab in the middle of a random day in that life they'd made with each other. No Brakebills, no other quests; no one else had even known they were gone... and in its own way, it had been entirely freeing.
Quentin smiled at that, still a little teary eyed, and nodded. "I think you're right about that. About us being bound together." Somehow, someway, they'd always find their way back. Vallo was proof of that, wasn't it? An entirely new world and they'd still wound up together.
He lifted a hand and gently tucked a loose curl back behind Eliot's ear, just watching him for a moment, before letting his attention go back to their son. Q was quiet and still full of awe before giving another small nod. He scooched off of the outside bed they had that he'd been sitting on and before making his way over to where Teddy was playing, stood in front of Eliot and bent down to press a sweet kiss to his lips. "I love you so fucking much, Eliot."
"I'm always right," Eliot teased as he reached up, gently wiping some tears from Quentin's cheek. In the short, very short time they'd been there he could already see how relaxed and at home Quentin was. He wondered if they could stay here forever if he would, but he already knew the answer.
Eliot smiled at the stray curl being tucked behind his ear, something he often did to the other, something he enjoyed. A small intimate gesture. They walked over to where Teddy was and Eliot sat down beside him. The next thing he knew Quentin bent down to kiss him. He smiled into the kiss. "I love you, Quentin." He reached up to caress his cheek and hold his gaze for a moment.
"Come play with us," Eliot said, patting the ground. Teddy nodded. "Come play, Daddy." Eliot looked at the scattered wooden toys, horses and other animals carved from wood, blocks and a few people. "I think we should build a castle. What do you two think?" he asked, grinning.
Quentin had always felt at home in Fillory. Or at least this version of Fillory. The lack of responsibilities to their old life, to the life before the quest, had lifted a burden from both of them and they were just allowed to be. No one else in that world knew who they were and that? That was something of a relief. Children of Earth who had no ties to the throne yet.
"I think a castle sounds like a fantastic idea," he said, moving to sit beside them on the ground. "We can build our own Castle Whitespire right here. Teddy, would you like to be High King of Fillory?"
Quentin chuckled a little and bent over to press a kiss to the top of Teddy's head. "I'm glad you like that little horse I whittled for you," he said with a smile and a gentle ruffle to the child's hair. "Not that I'm particularly good at whittling," he added with a glance up at Eliot and a grin.
"What a good idea!" Eliot agreed, smiling over at Quentin. "Yay! I get to be the king!" Teddy said excitedly as he picked up one of the people to be the king and sat it on the horse riding it around. Both were laid aside as they began to build the castle.
"You're better at it than me. Rest in peace to the poor things I whittled. Eliot winked at Quentin, smiling to himself. "I'll be one of your guards." Eliot picked up another one of the people and Marched it to the entrance of the castle. He watched Quentin and Teddy continue to build on the castle. How he wished he had a camera.
"I will protect the castle from all your enemies, your majesty." He added some blocks to the castle. "We need a queen or another king. Maybe both." He smirked, chuckling softly.
"Yes, you do get to be king." Quentin smiled at Teddy fondly and then looked back up at Eliot with that same expression before he went to work on building the castle out of the wooden blocks available while their son galloped the little toy horse around.
And so they played and played. The castle was built and the king was protected - and of course there was a queen added, because Fillory wasn't Fillory without both a High King and High Queen to rule over the land. Well, that wasn't entirely true. It managed to get by just fine when there was no one from Earth sitting on the throne.
Eventually Teddy seemed to tucker out from the game and Quentin could tell he was getting sleepy. "Oh, I think someone's ready for a nap before supper. Maybe we should put him down for a little bit while we figure out what to cook?" he asked Eliot while Teddy moved to crawl into his own lap, curling up against him just as he always had. "I mean... I guess maybe that's not a thing we actually need to do?" Since it's not real.
Playing like this with his family filled Eliot with so much happiness that he was sure it would explode out of him like a volcano at any moment. The king took the throne and was protected in the beautiful castle. It was like a fairy tale, but one that had actually lived.
Eliot slipped his arms around Quentin and Teddy, letting his hand come to rest on the boy's back, rubbing it soothingly. "Yes, I think it's naptime. I'm actually a little hungry." Real or not. He stood up then picked Teddy up, holding him for a few moments before handing him back to Quentin. "It won't hurt to look for something while Teddy sleeps.
So many things about being a father had come easily to Quentin. He wasn't sure how, but having Eliot there to love them both and raise Teddy as his papa had only seemed natural. There was no other option; Teddy had two dads and they both loved him fiercely.
Quentin held the small boy and hoisted him against his hip once he stood, letting his head fall gently to his shoulder where he started to immediately doze off. "Maybe a stew? I started on fresh dough for bread this morning, so that's probably ready to go into the oven, too."
It was all so mundane, and yet it had been his favorite time in his life. This, with Eliot. Nothing would ever compare. He carefully reached up onto his toes and pressed a quick kiss to his lips before moving toward the cottage with their son, ready to set him in bed for a short nap while they fixed dinner. But as he entered the small house, the scene changed and where Teddy had been in his arms, now he and Eliot stood in front of the fire with a scarf wrapped around both of their hands. Was this...?
"Oh," he exclaimed softly, the realization dawning on him.
Eliot couldn't resist rubbing over Teddy's back and pressing a kiss to his cheek as he laid against Quentin's shoulder. "Sounds good to me. Especially the bread."
They made their way into the cottage, his thoughts turning to what they had that he could make stew with. Eliot blinked though when he realized he and Quentin were standing in front of the fire with a scarf wrapped around their hands. It was a little confusing before he realized what this was. He looked to Quentin and smiled.
"Finally tying me down?" Eliot grinned softly, teasing. He looked around then back to Quentin. "As it should be." He became more serious. "I love you, Quentin Coldwater."
It wasn't like Quentin had ever really forgotten this part of their time in Old Fillory. No. It was one of those core memories that had stuck with him, but it was also something neither of them had discussed.
The fact of the matter was simply this: out of nowhere one evening, after Teddy had been put to bed, Quentin had approached Eliot and suggested that they have a hand-fasting ceremony. They could use a bit of fabric or a scarf, even. Exchange vows of some kind. Maybe it wasn't official or legal by Fillory standards, but it would be real to them.
And it had been. For many, many more years.
Quentin looked from their tied hands up to Eliot and grinned, a blush coming to his cheeks, which would be difficult to see in the firelight. "I love you, Eliot Waugh. And yes, I'm definitely tying you down again. Or at least that seems to be what's happening here."
It was happening. A warm soft bubbly feeling filled him, one that spoke of love and happiness. True love, true happiness which Eliot could say he'd only ever experienced one time with one person, the one now standing next to him. So he spoke from the heart.
"I don't know what I did to get so lucky, but I'm so thankful you picked me. I'm no picnic, but you've always been with me one way or another." Eliot paused, his emotions getting the best of him. "I know it won't always be easy, but I promise to spend the rest of my days loving you and making you happy." It was simple, but true. He'd never been great at all the emotional things, but Quentin had a way of bringing it out in him.
Even if it was still a dream, he hadn't expected Eliot to say all of those things, not right now. Not yet. He blinked in awe and felt his own emotions push at the surface. "Love takes work. Sometimes it's as easy as breathing and some days it's really fucking hard, but that will never change how I feel about you, Eliot. How I've always felt about you."
Under the fabric of the scarf, he squeezed his hand and gave a gentle tug, pulling himself a little closer to the other. "We're both flawed, we know this. We're far from perfect, but god dammit, you're perfect for me. And for as much as I infuriate you sometimes, that feeling of luck is very mutual."
Eliot smiled tenderly and nodded. "I know. Nothing worth having comes easy." Perhaps they wrote the book on love taking work, being hard. They certainly had the history to prove that. It did take work, a lot of work. It was always worth it even in times when it didn't feel like it. Somehow, they always found their way back to each other.
He squeezed Quentin's hand in return. Such a big moment. It felt surreal, dreamlike, yet so real and tangible. "Yes, we are," Eliot agreed, "but I guess we're the right kind of flawed for each other. Imperfectly perfect for one another." Soul mates maybe. If one believed in such things.
There was no doubt in Quentin's mind that Eliot was his soul mate, for whatever that meant in the grand scheme of things. The universe was vast and yet somehow he'd been lucky enough to find the person who understood him for all his flaws and idiosyncrasies. And someone who was willing to forgive those, embrace them, even.
Quentin wanted to say something else, about how this was just a dream, it wasn't real, and yet it felt just as real as it had the first time. Instead he grinned and pushed up onto his toe to press an eager kiss to his lips, before murmuring against them in a hushed breath. "I will love you until all of the stars in every galaxy burn out, husband."
Eliot smiled. The tip toe kisses got to him every time. He was such a sap when it came to Quentin. His heart squeezed in his chest at the words he spoke, touching him in a deep almost spiritual way. Tears threatened as his emotions welled up. "Husband," he repeated softly. With his free hand he cupped Quentin's face and kissed him passionately. The man brought out his passion in so many ways.
"That's a very long time, husband." The warm crackling fire added to the beauty of the moment. There was no denying the joy and love he felt. No denying that this was right, this was who he belonged with.
It wasn't the first time he'd heard Eliot refer to him as such, but sometimes memories from this time in Fillory were foggy. Fifty years was a long time, after all, and his memory was never perfect to begin with. So hearing it again made his heart swell and he grinned just before their lips met again, returning the kiss with the same sort of intensity it was given.
"And it's still not long enough," he replied with a sheepish tone to his voice, slowly unraveling the scarf that was wrapped around their hands to snake it around the back of Eliot's neck to keep him pulled close. "It'll never be long enough."
Then the scene shifted again, something Quentin couldn't quite make out, the edge of his vision blurred slightly. He blinked and inhaled a sharp breath, the realization that he'd woken up hitting him. "...fuck," he breathed, staring up at the ceiling. "Fuckfuckfuck." He could've stayed in that dream forever. He turned his head a little, looking over at Eliot. "El?"
"We'll see how you feel about that in twenty years," he teased, leaning in to nuzzle his nose against Quentin's. He grinned when the scarf was taken from their hands and slipped around his neck to keep them close. "You're sweet and wonderful." And now bound to him forever.
Eliot kissed down Quentin's jaw to his neck nuzzling against his warm skin. He heard his name softly called, but paid no mind to it even as the scene before him began to fade away. He slid his arms around Quentin holding him closer.
The pale light filtering into Quentin's room made him blink. He looked all around. Not Fillory. Not the cottage. No Teddy. A sadness washed over him that was unexpected and his name was called again. Eliot turned his head to look at Quentin who was awake and staring at him. He moved close to him, burying his head in his chest for a few moments. "I had the best dream. It was...so real. So fucking real."
As soon as he saw Eliot stir, he rolled a bit more onto his side to face him and then smiled to himself when the other man curled against him, burying his face against his chest. His arm instantly wrapped around him and he leaned in to press a kiss into his hair. "I know you did," he replied softly, his hand moving in slow, soothing circles against his back. "I had the same dreams, I think. You were there with me, anyways, but you seemed to know it was a dream, too." Then he pressed another kiss into his hair and closed his eyes, breathing him in for a moment.
There was a deeply bittersweet feeling residing in his chest. Bitter because they had Teddy again, briefly, and now... well. In reality, there was a good chance he wasn't even alive anymore. But Quentin didn't want to think about that.
"Are you alright, love?"
They'd had the same dream? Was that possible? Yes, it had felt so real, so intimate as if they were sharing something special. But surely they couldn't have dreamed the same thing. Eliot lifted his head and looked into the face of Quentin, searching it. "Did you dream of Old Fillory? Of...Teddy?" The dream and realness of it still clung to him and the mention of their son's name brought on another wave of emotions.
Had Quentin dreamed of their handfasting? The words spoken felt more real as if before they'd been some distant memory that he'd never been able to fully grasp and know. Was he alright? Mostly. "I got to hold Teddy, play with him and build a castle with him. I heard him call me papa, something I thought I'd never hear again." That pushed some tears into his eyes and Eliot laid back against Quentin.
"Yeah, I did dream of that," he replied softly, his voice choking a little with emotion, as he lifted a hand to brush back Eliot's curls in a comforting manner. "I named him High King Teddy, ruler of Fillory. And you will always be his papa. I'm grateful you got to hear him call you that again after so long." Quentin smiled sadly, but chuckled all the same and let out a quiet sigh as he nestled in with Eliot pressed against him.
"It might've been one of the best dreams I've ever had, honestly. The one right after it was pretty wonderful, too." If Eliot had dreamed about Old Fillory, it was probably safe to assume he'd dreamed about the handfasting, as well.
"You had the same dream?" Eliot lifted his head to look at Quentin. He had named him High King Teddy, ruler of Fillory. How was that possible? Did it matter? Maybe some kind of Vallo dream magic. "You got to see and be with Teddy again, too." He knew how much it meant to Quentin. Sometimes he wondered if that was part of the missing puzzle with him.
Quentin's next words brought forth the image of them standing before the fire. He was there. They'd been there. It was a lot to take in. "The handfasting." Eliot smiled warmly. "You married some tall high strung man." It didn't matter that it wasn't some "official" ceremony. In their hearts it was real and that's all that mattered. "Am I still your husband?" Eliot asked softly.
"Seeing him again, so little and playful and full of life..." Quentin took a moment to revel in the feeling of it. "We spent so long there together that I'd forgotten what it was like getting to be his dad." He smiled, though his eyes glistened with tears. He always missed Teddy; even though he'd gotten to have a fully, happy life of raising him with Eliot, he was their son and he loved him intensely.
The mention of the handfasting pulled him back to the moment and his expression softened further as he looked at Eliot. "Do you want to be?" he asked quietly in response. "Because for me, all the weird timeline shit aside from after we got back from Old Fillory... I mean, I-- that was one of the memories I distinctly remembered from being there. So on that level, yeah, I've always considered you my husband, even if it wasn't official or legal by Fillory standards."
"I know," Eliot replied with a sad smile. "Very bittersweet." It made him miss Teddy more, miss Fillory and the life they'd had there. "Maybe we should look at it as a new treasured memory." He reached for Quentin's hand and laced their fingers then brought it to his lips and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. "We'll tuck it away in our hearts and hold it close forever."
"I do," he said without hesitation. "A husband and a wife. I should be the scandal of Vallo," Eliot teased with a light chuckle. "I'm sorry," he said, sobering up. "I'm not making light of our handfasting or what I want." He wasn't. It popped into his head and he'd share. Perhaps not the right timing. He gave Quentin's hand another squeeze. "I'm your husband and one day I want it to be "official". I want a ceremony where I'll wear something beautifully tailored and you'll still outshine me," he smiled warmly. "With vows and the whole nine yards."
Having an old memory of Teddy that felt new in their minds was something Quentin was sure he would be grateful for for as long as he lived here in Vallo. He'd never thought that he'd get to see Teddy again, let alone so little. He smiled at the kiss to his knuckles and then leaned forward, pressing a kiss of his own to Eliot's forehead before pulling back to look at him again.
"I promise I didn't take offense to it," he interjected with a quiet chuckle of his own before settling again, though he shifted his head a bit closer to nudge his nose sweetly to the other man's. "Then I'm your husband, too. When we do make it official, our ceremony is going to be off the wall in the best way and I'm really excited for when that day happens."
Eliot smiled when they shared some Eskimo kisses then shifted to pull Quentin close and wrap his arms around him. Husband. Saying it out loud in real time was strange and wonderful. At last Vallo had given him something good. No, great and amazing. He'd remember this, the dream, this talk with Quentin, always.
"I like the sound of it. It will be all ours and I'm excited for it as well." Eliot kissed Quentin tenderly. "I love you." He closed his eyes and sighed contently. "Let's just lay here a while longer." He wasn't quite ready to let go of the dream world or Quentin yet.