WHO Eliot + Margo WHERE The Last Resort WHEN After they both arrive in Night Vale WHAT A very bittersweet reunion STATUS Complete WARNINGS None, really
Margo’s arrival in this weird, desert town was nothing short of convenient. For her, anyway. And not too much different than where she’d just been -- at least where the desert aspect of it was concerned.
She’d begun to settle in, finding herself in a room in some building called The Last Resort. Fucking cheeky, wasn’t it? Perhaps too on the nose. She sighed, her newly acquired battle axes on the coffee table and her tired, sunburned body sunk lazily on the couch. Why was everything purple? Ugh. She’d have to fix that later if she was stuck here.
The device she had now seemed useful and… well, apparently both Quentin and Eliot were here. Her Eliot. Not the monster she’d been trying to kill. She was tired and that realization made her emotional, but she managed to keep it together. At least long enough for him to make his way to her room, after she’d given him her room number. The knock at the door made her heart lurch into her throat and she jumped off of the couch to go let him in.
“El?” she asked, the door pulling open without much of a care, eyes wide and hopeful.
After everything, they’d been through, one would imagine Eliot would be accustomed to being tossed into various worlds. Maybe if he hadn’t just spent god knows how long in the same cycle of the same fucking day he wouldn’t have been so out of his element. Usually he could roll with almost anything, but something hadn’t been right ever since Nameless had left him.
El felt off... broken even, and this place certainly wasn’t helping.
Seeing Quentin talking to Margo on his device had really fucked with him. Honestly? He would have rather still been playing in the worst version of Groundhog Day ever. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see Q. Quite the opposite. El wanted nothing more than to find him and pretend like nothing over the last year had ever happened, but he was a fucking coward. Saving the world hadn’t changed that, and he was pretty sure nothing ever would.
He could talk a big game and walk the walk like no other, but when it came down to actually dealing with his own shit? Well, there was only one person who could kick his ass into gear, and coincidentally? Margo was the only one he wanted to see.
It didn’t matter that she wasn’t from his time or wasn’t aware of the hell they’d been through since her stint in that desert, she was still Margo. She was still his and whoever was responsible for bringing them here? At least had enough sense to bring them together.
The seconds it took her to open the door after his knock felt like they moved at a snail's pace, but as soon as he laid his eyes on her? He let go of the heavy breath he’d been unconsciously holding. “Hey, gorgeous,” he said - slipping back into his patented Eliot demeanor with a smirk. “Miss me?”
It pissed her off knowing that her and Eliot were from different times. He was from some point in their future, knew things she didn’t know, had lived things she hadn’t. In her time, he was still possessed by this monster -- the Nameless. It wore the face of the person she considered her soul mate on a level no one else would ever understand and that had left her infuriated. Raging. Margo was always mad on some level (you had to be after dealing with a lot of the shit she’d been through), but losing El like that?
Now it didn’t really seem to matter. Well, no. That wasn’t right. It did matter. His being here meant that what she’d done worked, though what that was, she wasn’t sure. She had an idea though. There was only one way to use those axes to get that shitkicker out of her best friend’s body.
But when she saw him standing there on the other side of the door, time both seemed to stop and rush forward. He looked different; his hair was longer, his eyes sadder. If she let herself cry then, it would take her hours to stop, but her lower lip trembled all the same. “You have no fucking idea,” she replied before throwing herself at him for a hug.
Somehow her heart felt just a little more whole in that moment.
How many repeating days had he been without her? Without anyone? Eliot had lost count, and he’d barely even gotten to speak with her before being brought here.
As much as he thought it didn’t bother him that they were from different times, and it really didn’t, Eliot still wasn’t prepared for the sight of her. The subtle differences of a couple of years seemed monumental in that moment. There was so much she wouldn’t know about. Things they’d lived through and survived together that he could tell her about, but it wouldn’t be the same.
El didn’t have any preconceived notions that this would alter anything about their dynamic. Margo was an extension of him. Two halves of the same coin, she was his soulmate in every sense of the word, and nothing could change that. His time as the Nameless hadn’t and he’d be damned if a few missed years here or there would.
Having to remind himself that for her he was still being controlled by the monster, that tremble of her bottom lip nearly did him in. It was a bit of a struggle, but he somehow managed to rein in his emotions just in time to catch her in his arms. “I really fucking missed you too, Bambi.”
Fucking keep it together, bitch.
Margo sucked her trembling lower lip in and bit down on it as she hugged him, eyes squeezed shut. She almost felt like she was clinging to him as if her life depended on it and in a way, it did.
“At least you still smell like you,” she muttered as she finally pulled away, unaware of just how long that hug had gone on. It could’ve been an hour for all she knew or cared. Eliot was here. Her Eliot. She’d managed to get a grip on her emotions at the surface, but the look she gave him was still a bit sad, even if she was trying to mask it for his sake.
Honestly, these days it seemed like Sad and Angry were her defaults.
She took his hand and pulled him into the small apartment space so the door could close and led him over to the couch. Once they were both seated, she immediately curled up against his side and nestled her head against the crook of his neck. How much had changed for them between her time and his? Did she even care to know? All she knew was that apparently Quentin was dead now -- something she hadn’t experienced yet, thank god.
There were a lot of questions spinning around in her head, but nothing she could think to ask, instead just wanting to sit there and just exist with him.
He wasn't sure how long they stood in that doorway clinging to one another like distraught children, but it really didn't matter. Eliot would have happily held her there for hours without a single complaint. It was something he wanted to do ever since she'd left him in the loop. Even though he'd discovered how to be strong on his own during his quest, he would forever stand by the idea that the two of them were stronger together.
Not only stronger, they were a force to be reckoned with under any circumstances, especially one's like these where they were both trying to conceal their emotions. It was likely a fruitless endeavor on both of their parts. Eliot knew her better than he knew himself. He knew when she was wearing the mask, just as he knew that hint of sadness in her eyes.
If she hadn't pulled him through the apartment space to the couch, he might have commented on both of their respective masks, but any desire to do so left him the moment she curled up against him.
Lifting his left hand to twirl her hair around his fingers, El rested his head against hers and simply breathed her in for a moment. "You still smell like you too, maybe more sweaty than usual with a hint of desert burn."
There were a million things they probably should have been talking about, but he was exhausted physically and mentally... and maybe it was just fucking easier to slip into their usual banter.
“Ugh. Don’t remind me that I desperately need a shower after all that bullshit I just went through.” It should have been the first thing she’d done when she got here, but no. Sitting on something comfortable with the air conditioner blasting and waiting for him had taken priority over that. A shower would happen eventually.
Margo fell quiet for a moment and then tilted her head back a little, enough to look up at him, though his face was hardly an inch away from her own, before craning her neck just enough to press her lips to the corner of his mouth. They’d shared kisses plenty of times before, but this one was almost desperate. A way for her to make sure he was real.
He was.
She nudged her nose against his jawline then for a moment before letting her head settle back to where it had been.
“So what bullshit have you been through lately?” Because it was undoubtedly bullshit. Everything at home just seemed like it sucked non-stop, so it was probably safe to assume that hadn’t changed.
“If I don’t remind you who is going to,” he asked with another smirk and a ruffle of her hair. Not many had big enough ovaries to point out any type of flaws in Margo. She was a force to be reckoned with and often sparked fear in the hearts of her enemies and allies alike, not to mention that El would verbally ruin anyone who tried. He could be as brutal with her as he wanted, but anyone else? Well, they most certainly weren't allowed.
Sinking down into a more relaxed position on the couch, he unconsciously held her a little tighter when her lips pressed against his. He couldn't count the number of kisses they'd shared, but he could feel her desperation in this one. If it had been anyone else? He probably would have ignored it, but letting anything go unaddressed never ended well for either of them.
So, with a slight smile at the nudge to his jaw, he allowed her to have the moment she needed before curling his finger under her chin to tilt her head back up. "Hey," he began, pressing his lips back to hers firmly. "It's really me. Not a dream or a fucked up lizard trip. And? It's only me. Well..."
Releasing his grip on her face, he turned his head to glance across the room where Charlton was silently observing their little reunion. It was just a quick once over followed by a roll of his eyes, because El knew if he acknowledged him for too long, the annoying angel on his shoulder would get chatty. "When it comes to the bullshit? Other than putting on my hero crown and saving the world? I've also got Charlton playing the roll of Tyler Durden in the stellar rendition of Eliot Waugh: This is Your Life."
Margo rolled her eyes a little at the ruffle to her hair, because Eliot was the only god damn person who could ever get away with doing that and he knew it. At least that helped calm her anxieties about whether or not he was some weird figment of her imagination, though nothing would beat tripping on lizard.
The second kiss settled her a bit more and she closed her eyes for a moment, letting out a soft huffing noise when he broke away to speak, addressing her worries. They’d had their ups and downs over the years yet he still could always see right through her to what she was thinking.
Whatever time difference there was between them clearly hadn’t changed that.
Thank fuck.
Except now she was confused by the Fight Club reference and her face screwed up a bit to show that confusion. “Who the fuck is Charlton?” she asked, bluntly. That wasn’t a name she recognized at all and even if it had been one of Eliot’s random one night stands, she was pretty sure she’d remember a name like that.
Of course, this was assuming he would ever actually have sex with someone with such a stupid name.
It was a bit like coming home, falling back into old habits as if there weren't gaps of time separating them. Margo had always felt like home, though. Even if his own wasn't a proverbial hellscape? If he'd been part of an extensive joyful accepting family, he knew without a shadow of a doubt that she would still be his choice. Eliot would choose her every time, no matter how many bumps they encountered along the way.
For a moment, though, he'd forgotten she hadn't been privy to the name of the Monster's previous host, and he barked a laugh at her confusion. Because honestly? The whole situation was ridiculously laughable.
For all his shit talking... in reality? He owed a great deal to Charlton. Hell, if he was corporeal, he'd probably kiss the other man solely based on his help alone. Eliot may not be overly vocal about his gratitude, but he figured Charlton knew.
"The ghost of Christmas past," he quipped, before resting his head atop hers and reaching for one of her hands to fiddle with. "I thought it was still in my head. The Monster. I kept hearing it calling my name all fucking creepy and shit. It fucked with me there for a while. But in a shocking turn of events? Not the Monster. Just his previous host."
"When that thing was pulled out of me, Charlton hung on." Glancing back toward the man in question, he quirked a grin. "So now? I have a shiny new imaginary friend. Always wanted one of those."
A part of her couldn’t help wondering how he’d dealt with that. Hearing what he thought was the Nameless, fearing that it was still inside of him; she couldn’t imagine how traumatizing that whole situation had been for him. He probably (definitely) needed therapy, but that wasn’t really up El’s alley and she knew it.
Margo closed her eyes and nestled in against him, letting out a slow, quiet sigh. “Well, tell Charlton,” god, what a dumb fucking name “that if he tries to take bestie status, I’ll kill him all over again myself.” There was no joking tone to her words.
Not-Actually-Imaginary-Just-Dead-Friend or not, Eliot was her best friend.
She went quiet for a moment and started to feel herself doze as she relaxed against him. Truthfully, it had been months in her timeline since she’d felt this safe. Go figure it took being hijacked to some other random desert to make it happen. “Will you stay here tonight?” she asked quietly, knowing somehow that she couldn’t bear to let him out of her sights just yet.
Sharing what went on in his head for far too long was almost like a weight lifting off of his shoulders. There hadn't been time to tell her about it at home when the time loop finally ended. He'd barely gotten the chance to speak with her at all, aside from invoking credenza. As soon as the world was saved, Eliot was pulled into this fucking desert.
If he were honest with himself? He'd have to admit that this world hop was probably the one he needed the most. Though, if she wasn't here too? El would be singing an entirely different tune, and fighting tooth and nail to get back.
Just because he proved to himself that he could do things alone? Didn't mean he wanted to. Truth be told? Sometimes he wondered if he needed Margo way more than she needed him.
Scoffing at such an absurd declaration, because it was impossible for anyone to take her place, he allowed his eyes to close right alongside hers. "Don't go getting insecure on me now, Bambi. It's not a good look for you." Although completely serious? There wasn't a hint of judgment in his tone as he tried to fight the urge to drift off to sleep.
God, he didn't realize how fucking exhausted he was. "Nowhere else I'd rather be," he answered quietly, before pressing another kiss into her hair.
Unable to resist it any longer, Eliot allowed himself to finally doze off. At least here, cuddled up on the couch with her, he could finally relax. Night Vale may have been stressful and confusing on the other side of the door, but that was a problem for tomorrow. For now, he wanted nothing more than to forget everything else and merely coexist with the only woman who'd ever truly worked her way into his heart.