Adult Content Warning
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Summary
“You’re missing your own party.”
Quentin startles, flipping around so his back against the balcony wall, and bringing a hand to his chest as Eliot steps out onto the balcony with him. He’s watching him expectantly, a strange little smile on his lips, and Quentin swallows, attempts a sheepish shrug. “It’s a lot,” he says after a moment, carefully turning back around to look over the city view the penthouse grants. He reaches up and clutches the bars on the wall, fists tight and knuckles burning white.
The sound of Eliot’s shoes tapping against the concrete beneath their feet fills the silence, until Quentin can feel him, warm and real, standing just behind him.
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Or, Quentin and Eliot have a talk (and thensome.)