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“Come on Quentin, you know you want to.” Eliot coaxed from where he was sitting, cocktail in hand. “Just say yes.”
Quentin flushed and stuttered, gulping down some more wine for courage. “Alright, fine” he said, taking off his hoodie.
Margo, who was very drunk, clapped her hands and laughed. “I’ll go get the supplies!”
Supplies? Quentin thought nervously to himself. What kind of supplies do we need, can’t we just do this?
Margo returned, her arms full. “I still can’t believe it is your first time, but I promise” she looked at Eliot and they both laughed, “we’ll be gentle.”
Margo dumped the hair brush, hair ties, comb, pins, and ribbons out on the sofa. “Get your ass over here, Coldwater” she demanded. “It is time to lose your french braid virginity.”
“Does it usually require ribbons?” Quentin asked, scooting to sit on the floor in front of Eliot and Margo, bringing the whole bottle of wine with him.
“Fuck yes.” Margo and Eliot chorused in unison from the couch.
“Just be glad Bambi didn’t break out the jeweled bobby pins or her enchanted flowers.” Eliot said, sitting up straight and only ever so slightly slurring his words. “They are real, but never fade or die” he finished, in a stage whisper.
Quentin got more comfortable as Margo and El discussed who was going to do what.
“You are getting the Margo and Eliot french braid spectacular” Eliot said as he started brushing Q’s hair gently, running his fingers against Q’s scalp and making him shiver. “Hold still” Eliot reprimanded, sternly shaking the brush towards Quentin.
“I can’t help it, it tickles” Q said, trying to stifle his laughter.
“Our boy is ticklish” Margo said to Eliot thoughtfully.
“Indeed, it does seem so” Eliot replied, sipping at his martini with one hand as he trailed a finger against the smaller man’s ear.
“Okay, no fair” Quentin protested. “I agreed to a braid, and apparently that comes with ribbons, but I draw the line at tickling.”
Margo smiled, “sure curly Q.” She said. “No tickling.” Turning to Eliot she mouthed for now.
“You know I can see your reflection in the glass of the liquor cabinet” Q said dryly.
“Oh, my darling baby boy, I know” Margo said, smiling and winking. “Now turn and stop looking until we are done or I’ll chop off something interesting. I want it to be a surprise.”
Quentin settled in, actually finding the brushing and hands in his hair rather soothing.
El and Margo were quietly talking as they gently tugged and pulled.
“Dare we do it?” Eliot whispered loudly to Margo.
“I think we dare.” Margo replied.
A box of ribbons fell into Q’s lap, making him jump.
“Grab out purple, pink and blue.” Margo ordered.
“Really?” Quentin asked. “Not only am I getting a braid, not only are there going to be ribbons, you are going with the fucking bi colors?”
“Yeah, you got a problem with that?” Margo asked, eyes flashing.
“Um, nope. Not at all. Ah, no problem here.” Quentin babbled. “I, uh, can’t wait. Put an actual entire flag in there if you want.”
Eliot giggled. “Just get out the ribbons before Bambi cuts you, Q.” He said.
Quentin dug around and quickly handed back the silk.
A few minutes and one “okay, ouch” from Quentin later, they declared he was done.
“A masterpiece” Eliot said, patting Q’s head agreeably.
“Don’t touch it before he looks” Margo said, whacking his hand away. “Okay, Quentin. Go look, I think we did some of our best work here.”
Quentin got up to look, and, glancing in the mirror, he was stunned. “Um, wow” he said.
His hair looked like a couple of first graders had just learned that rubber bands existed and decided to use their knowledge for evil. He guessed that if you squinted at it you might be able to call it a french braid
“That sure is… interesting.” He was trying to be polite, and also avoid the wrath of Margo. For someone with such perfect hair, he was shocked that she was this bad at braiding.
Eliot and Margo kept a straight face, nodding solemnly. Then they burst out laughing. It was beautiful, side-splitting, knees weak snorting laughter.
“Your face!” Eliot managed to gasp out.
“His face” Margo agreed, wiping tears out of her eyes.
Quentin smiled and then burst out laughing himself. He flung himself onto the couch right in the middle of the pair. “Okay,” he admitted. “You got me.”
“You would be the worst poker player” Eliot said, as his giggling subsided slightly. “Your every emotion clearly reads on your cute lil face.”
“Bend down, Coldwater” Margo said. “Let’s undo this monstrosity.”
"Yes please” Quentin begged. “Make it go away. I feel like a nearsighted bisexual unicorn tried to braid my hair with its hooves”
“And then gave up and puked ribbons on your head.” Eliot agreed. Reaching out he tickled the back of Q's neck softly, causing Quentin to burst into giggles as Margo started removing ribbons.
"Hold still" Margo chided.
"I'm trying!" Quentin protested. "But Eliot isn't listening to the no tickling rule."
"Eliot," Margo said, sternly. "No tickling." Winking, her and Eliot looked down at Q and mouthed for now at the same time. Quentin just sighed, deciding it was best not to argue the point when his head was literally at Margo's mercy, resting in her lap.
For now would apparently have to do.