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Margo couldn’t remember the last time she had a good night sleep. When she wasn’t lying awake fearing regicide, she was wracked with guilt that in some way her actions had caused the shit they were in.
Of course, that wasn’t true.
If anyone was to blame is was Christopher fucking Plover being a creepy pedophile and fucking Martin Chatwin up, who turned into a psychopath who fucked up Fillory. Then when she was gracious enough to step in and try and fix things, Fillory decided to go be a cunt.
Nope, not a cunt, no. That was too good a word. Fillory was a steaming pile of Pegasi turds dressed up with roses and lace. But who really cared? Margo was just expected to give up and deal with it. Not take her throne back and not get the last fucking key they needed to bring back magic.
Fucking Julia, that sexy wet blanket of justified misery, thinking she can call the shots. Protect the poor innocent fairies? Bullshit.
Margo couldn’t sleep.
She picked up a silk robe and wrapped it around her shoulders. Leaving her private cabin, she stormed into the main living quarters in search of company.
“Empty. Figures.” She muttered under her breath.
Everyone else could sleep like the little motherfucking babies they were - all cozy in their beliefs that deep down they were good, wonderful, innocent people just doing their best. Which also wasn’t true, and she knew that they knew it wasn’t true, but that didn’t stop her from wanting to rage. Margo knew that the three people on her flying boat, all had their own deep-seated issues and she was just being her own entitled self by cursing their names as she paced around the room.
“Fuck it,” she said through her almost permanently gritted teeth. Wrapping her robe tighter, Margo made her way to the cabin of the one person she assumed she could count on to be awake and knocked on the door.
“Coldwater, you awake?” she asked, not waiting for him to answer her knock before opening the door.
The lamp was out, not a great sign. Margo slumped against the doorway.
“Who is that?” Quentin’s voice was dry as if he’d been sleeping with his mouth open. Thank god she hadn’t come in to fuck him.
“It’s Margo,” she said softly. “I thought you’d be awake. Sorry.”
“Oh, is everything okay? Did we get a bunny from Julia?” He asked hurried, getting up from his bed to reveal that he slept almost nude. Disappointing, really.
“No message, keep your panties on,” she joked.
“Then what’s up?” He asked again, this time with a nervous hitch as he scrambled to cover himself up with a sheet from the bed.
“I just,” Margo started, ashamed of herself for feeling so...was it neediness? “Ugh. I couldn’t sleep and I figured, ‘Quentin’s a nervous wreck, I bet he’s awake too. Maybe we could keep each other company.” She hesitated for a moment, before sliding back out from his doorway. “I’m going.”
Margo closed the door and walked back to her cabin. Alone, miserable and worst of all, now Quentin knew she was a vulnerable little asshole. Dropping the robe to the floor, she slid back under the covers of her bed and hoped that by sheer will she could fall asleep.
“Can I come in?”
The door crept open to reveal Quentin, now wearing a t-shirt to go with his boxers, and looking at her with those big brown overly concerned eyes. Seeing him there, she could understand how he was so good at making friends despite the crippling anxiety and depression he professed to have.
Margo considered saying something crass. Anything to hide the fact that she had needed a friend.
“Yeah, come on in,” she said, too tired to think of anything witty on the fly. Margo patted the bed beside her and tried to hide her relief when he came and sat next to her.
“You know, if you were Eliot, you’d be demanding I give you a hug right now,” he said with what she assumed was an attempted smirk, but just made him look a little simple. Still, it made her laugh. Eliot was such a needy man. Hell if that didn’t warm her heart, little could.
“Thanks, Q,” she said, keeping her distance.
“You know, when I can’t sleep, sometimes it helps to say out loud what is happening in my brain.” Quentin was sitting precariously on the edge of the bed. Even after all this time she still made him nervous. Which, surprisingly didn’t make her feel good like it would have way back when they were at Brakebills together. Then again, even she could admit that the woman who left the school halfway through her studies was not the same one who had ruled a kingdom. And Quentin was certainly not the same flighty nerd, but a man who had saved the day more than once.
“I’m tired as fuck,” Margo sighed, not ready to say anything about what was really keeping her awake, every fucking night. She sunk into the pillows and ignored Quentin.
Unable to see him, Margo felt Quentin move up further into the bed where he could actually, maybe, be a little comforting to her, if only she’d accept it.
“So uh, I’m going to come into this bed and spoon you, because that’s what you look like you need. But if you try and fuck with me, I’m going to leave.”
Margo wanted to put up a fight if only so she wouldn’t lose the high ground she had so carefully cultivated for years. The truth was, it was easy to keep everyone at arm's length when all she had to worry about was exams, STDs, and alcohol poisoning. These days, even if she wasn’t capable of admitting it, being alone was so much harder.
“Don’t worry Q, your virginity is safe with me,” she couldn’t help it. The words just flew out without thought. She’d spent so long snarking that it was the default even if she did want what he was offering.
“You came into my room,” Quentin said. “But I’m not even going to remind you, that you know for a fact I’m not a virgin,” he added. Thank god, she thought. He was always more fun when he was being a smartass. He climbed into the bed and slid one arm underneath her pillow and allowed Margo to lean into the other.
Quentin was comfortable. His body so much larger when compared to hers than it ever seemed in the light of the day. Normally he was always standing next to Eliot, who dwarfed him, or Alice, whose enviable posture made him look like a cute little hunchback. To her surprise, sexy Quasimodo didn’t try and get her to talk.
Which, fuck, maybe he’d learned a thing or two in all the therapy he’d been to because that just made her want to spill her guts. Not that she would, she wasn’t Quentin. Unlike him, she knew that keeping everything bottled up inside had its benefits. A lack of pity from other people for one.
“How have you not had a nervous breakdown?” she asked. Excellent deflection. Quentin’s arms tensed around her, before going limp.
“You didn’t see me while I was stranded on Earth.”
Caught in his half-hearted embrace, Margo rolled over to rest her head on his chest. She wanted to look up and apologize, but his face was hidden from sight. Fucking eye patch. There was no way she would ever get used to having only one eye.
“I binge watched Six Feet Under, twice,” he admitted.
“Hey, that’s a great show. Freddy Rodriguez, hmm, he can get it.”
“I know, right?” Quentin had relaxed again and allowed Margo to snuggle in tighter. It might not be sleep, but it was light years better than internally screaming while counting sheep. “Seriously though, I only moved to go to the bathroom or get more cigarettes and gin...a lot of gin. I don’t even remember eating. Not knowing if you and Eliot were okay, it was...”
“Fucking awful,” she finished for him, knowing exactly how he felt.
“Yeah, but then Julia showed me her magic, and I got your bunnies,” he brightened up. “Once I had a purpose, everything sort of fell back into place.”
“I’m pretty sure having a purpose is the only thing holding me together,” Margo wanted to eat the words back as soon as they came out. She’d meant to think it, not admit it. Fuck, now he would want to talk about it and if it made her cry, she might just have to knock him out and gaslight him into thinking it was a dream.
“We will get out of this, I promise,” Quentin said. He moved his hand to stroke her hair. Margo wanted to tell him to stop because it made her feel weak, but she was so starved of affection that her body disobeyed and lapped it up.
“Hmm.” Margo didn’t believe him. Everything they had done to make things better always caused something worse to happen.
“From someone who was a terrible king, I just want to say, I think you are an amazing queen,” he said possibly trying to feed her ravenous ego, but it felt like a cop-out.
“Tell that to the flea-ridden shitbags who tried to throw me over a waterfall.” Margo felt the rage well up inside her at the memory of their betrayal.
“People are dicks,” he said. It was barely audible, but Margo could feel him laugh nervously as his spoke. “This place...it hasn’t lived up to the books for you, has it?”
He hit the nail on the head. Everything she had done, from standing up to the Lorians, to marrying the fucking Floater creep, and yes, even the stupid ass fairy deal she made, had all been for Fillory. Sure, she hadn’t wanted to marry Ess, but it wasn’t just self-serving, marrying from a position of weakness would have fucked the whole country over. And when it was the only choice and she was covered in blood, she fucking sucked it up and accepted her punishment. The fairy deal, well that was a huge goddamn mistake, but it’s not like she made it for anything other than protecting her fucking King and his ass-backward Kingdom.
Yet it was all for nothing. Fillory was full of dicks and Margo was over it.
“It doesn’t deserve you, you know, or Eliot.”
“It fucking doesn’t, but that don’t mean I’m done with it,” she sat up and looked him in the eye. Margo expected Quentin to cower at her defiance, but he just stared right back at her.
“Alright, so we have to work out how to get the last key from the fairy realm,” he stated the painfully obvious.
“No duh.”
“Which you aren’t going to do without sleep.” Quentin crinkled his brow, thinking about how to help her get some rest. Margo couldn’t help but smile, he really did have enough empathy for the both of them. She thought back to when Eliot had first brought him into their lives. Despite his awkwardness, he’d slipped right in as if he’d always belonged. The Bubbles to her Buttercup and Eliot’s Blossom.
Margo dropped back into the bed and pulled the covers over herself and Quentin. Laying down she returned her head to his chest and draped an arm over him. To her surprise, he placed a gentle kiss upon her forehead and wrapped her in his arms. Quentin would have made a great boyfriend, if Margo were a basic bitch and not the liberated woman she truly was.
“Where was my invite to this sleepover?” Eliot appeared in the doorway, his hair wild from sleep, and his face contorted into the devilish grin that always made Margo want to stand by his side and watch the world burn.
“Didn’t you hear?” Quentin said sleepily. “Me and Margo, we’re a thing now.”
“Margo and I,” She corrected him. If that were ever to occur it would be important to recognize that she had chosen him, not the other way around. Margo poked him in the ribs and he let out a small cry. “Ignore him, we were just talking about you,” she lied. Margo curled her fingers in the air to convince him to come and join them.
“I was just telling Margo that I have these really vivid memories of you being a silver fox,” Quentin continued the lie. They really did work well as a team. Though Eliot as a silver fox, that was something she would definitely need to hear more about when they were alone again.
“Naturally,” Eliot waved his hand before sliding into the bed beside Margo. “I may hate my father, but the Waugh hair game is strong.”
“That’s not how genetics-“ Quentin never could help himself.
“Shh, let him have his moment.” Margo took Eliot’s arm and pulled it over her so that she was enveloped by them both. “Actually, I was thinking we’re The Powerpuff Girls,” Margo admitted, holding their arms so they couldn’t squirm away at the suggestion.
“I call dibs on Blossom,” Eliot said immediately, and Margo couldn’t help but assume it was something he had already considered. “And you are obviously Buttercup, my vicious Bambi.”
Despite how fucked up everything was, it was nice to be reminded that she could count on Eliot to think the same way she did.
“On another note, is anyone going to give me a little tug before we go to sleep?” Eliot asked in earnest.
“El, come on,” Margo could feel Quentin’s eye roll.
“In the morning then,” Eliot grinned.
Quentin and Eliot drifted off before Margo. She could have raged again about how everything is so much easier for them, but it was hard to be mad when they were both showing her so much affection. Eventually, the effort it took to keep her eye closed faded away. It may not have been a deep sleep, but it was the best she was going to get.
Heaven help Quentin and Eliot if they ever wanted to sleep alone again.