Archive of Our Own ^beta

The first time Eliot sees him, he knows he needs him, even if just for a night.

"Who is this?" he asks. The poor boy is obviously intimated by Margo alone, and the moment he sees Eliot he tenses up so tight it would be comical if Eliot wasn't afraid he was going to hurt himself.

Margo hums in the back of her throat and touches the boy's back lightly. "Come on," she says, "introduce yourself."

The boy nods sharply, clutching the strap of his bag. "Quentin. Uh, Coldwater."

Eliot bites the inside of his cheek. God, why did he have to be so weak for the nerdy, shy types? "Eliot," he purrs. "Waugh. Poor thing; you must be so overwhelmed."

Quentin laughs sheepishly. "Uh. A little."

For a moment, he's almost jealous Margo got picked to take this sweet, shy boy to the test. But that was karma for you - he'd been so against doing it the Dean had finally just given up and let him off the hook.

"We're having a party tonight," Eliot says. He ignores the look he gets from Margo, confused and just a little amused. "You should come, celebrate."

Quentin opens his mouth, closes it.

"You should," Margo interjects, and Eliot loves her for it. "But you will have to do something about," she gestures vaguely at his body. "Do you have anything that actually, you know, fits?"

He glances down at his body and up again. His eyes are as wide as saucers. "Uh."

"Didn't think so," she pats his arm. "No problem. I'll be over before the party to help you pick something. What's your dorm number?"

Quentin jots down his dorm number and hands it over with shaking fingers.

"Okay," she says, chipper. "You can go now."

Quentin nods and turns on his heels, walking off, looking a little dazed and very adorable.

"He's cute," Eliot says.

Margo shrugs. "You can have him. Actually, here," she holds the paper out. "You go, say I had something to do."

"So thoughtful as always," he teases, nudging her gently.

She rolls her eyes. "You just need to get laid," she says primly. "Don't read into it."

He can't rightfully argue with that; the options at Brakebills have been dwindling each month, and he hasn't gotten laid in a few days because he simply couldn't find anyone worthy of his time (or dick). It was torture.

"See you at the party," he says, kissing her lightly on the lips.

She smiles, eyes sparkling. "No one will mind if you're fashionably late," she winks.

Eliot laughs unabashedly. Something he only ever really did around Margo. "We'll see," he tells her. Because as much as he loves the idea of getting Quentin into bed as soon as possible, he knows his type: they're way too easily spooked.

But he's worth the trouble of playing the game for a few days, at least.

*

Penny looks up when the door opens. He'd admittedly been expecting someone... a little different for his roommate. The guy who enters the room doesn't look cocky or even very confident; he walks hunched over, gripping the strap of his bag so tight his knuckles are paling.

"Uh," he says upon spotting Penny. He looks like a mouse who's been startled by a cat.

Penny barely manages to suppress a grin. Oh, this will be fun. "Penny," he says.

"Penny," he repeats slowly. "Um. Quentin," he says, lamely pointing at himself.

Jesus Christ, Penny thinks. "You're really into reading, huh?" he asks.

Quentin startles. "Oh." He smiles just a little. "Yes. How did you - " he turns and sees all the boxes of books on the floor near the other bed and trails off. "Oh."

"It's all a bunch of nerdy shit," Penny says, tilting his head thoughtfully. He watches, waits, for Quentin's reaction, observing.

Quentin doesn't get angry, surprisingly. His shoulders slump. "Yeah." Then, he looks at Penny from under his eyelashes.

Oh. Penny sits up a little straighter.

"Did - did you hear about the, uh, party tonight?" he asks.

Penny shakes his head. "Why? Are you going?" he asks, raising both eyebrows.

"Yeah?" Quentin replies, kind of a question. He walks over and sits down on his bed, pulling his bag off. "I'm not really the party type, but - but I was invited and I - I don't want to seem rude."

Penny licks his lips, slowly. "If you want," he starts, "I can go with you."

Quentin's head snaps up. He stares at him with wide eyes. "Oh. I mean, if you want."

"It might be less overwhelming if you have another first year there with you," he replies.

Quentin bites his bottom lip, hard. Penny thinks - hopes - he's suppressing some kind of grin. "Okay," he says finally. "That'd be nice."

*

Eliot clears his throat and adjusts his vest before lifting his hand and knocking. He hears something - scurrying - before the door opens.

Quentin stares up at him (God, he's so short). "Uh. Where's - " he glances behind him, like he expects to see Margo with him or something.

So innocent, Eliot thinks. "Oh, Margo? She had something she had to do, so she sent me in her place. Don't worry." He winks. "I'm plenty fashionable myself."

Quentin swallows thickly and just nods.

This was going to be so easy he almost felt bad. Almost.

"Can I come in?" he asks, and Quentin nods again, a little jerkier, and steps out of the way. Eliot enters, pausing when he realizes there's a third person in the room.

It's a guy (unsurprisingly, this is the male dorm) and he's stupidly hot, and he knows it.

Eliot smiles politely. "You must be Quentin's roommate," he says. It's not a question.

The guy stares up at him from his spot on the bed. From the looks of it, he's probably about Eliot's height standing. "Penny."

"Eliot," he greets back quickly before turning toward Quentin. "Show me your clothes?"

Quentin nods and walks over to a box on the floor, lifting it up onto his bed. "Here."

Eliot walks over, squinting. "This is it?" he asks.

"Uh. Yes?" he squeaks, frowning.

Eliot immediately feels bad. Jesus, the guy is like a puppy. "Okay," he says, nodding. "We can work with this. Just give me a second, okay?"

He regrets saying that as soon as it's out of his mouth, because Quentin takes that as an invitation to walk off and sit beside Penny.

Right, well. Eliot slowly starts pulling out all of Quentin's clothes. He certainly has a... style - baggy, dull colors. Near the bottom of the box he finally finds something promising and turns, holding it.

"This," he says, eyes sparkling, "is more like it."

Quentin stares at the pair of jeans. "Oh. Oh no," he says.

Eliot bites the inside of his cheek, suppressing a grin. For a moment, he can almost imagine they're alone until Penny opens his big mouth:

"What are we talking about here?" he asks, but he's not looking at Eliot, of course.

Quentin flushes. Eliot thinks it's unfairly adorable, and by the look in Penny's eyes, he's probably thinking the same thing. "Uh, Julia bought that for me." He roughly pushes some hair behind his ears. "Julia is my best friend, by the way. They're... way too small for me. I don't know - I don't know what she was thinking."

"Small?" Eliot repeats ludicrously. "More like your actual size, darling."

Quentin looks at him with wide eyes. He assumes it has more to do with the endearment than anything. "But..."

"Hey, look," Penny says, "you don't have to wear anything you don't want to."

Quentin looks at him, and he visibly softens.

Eliot curses. Mentally, of course. 

"I - I can do it, I think," Quentin says, but he gives Penny a soft, thankful smile before he looks away. "What about a shirt?"

Eliot clears his throat, feeling deflated, and turns back to the box. He grabs a black t-shirt; good enough. "Here," he says, dropping them in Quentin's lap as he walks to the door. "The party is at nine at the cottage. You can't miss it."

Quentin frowns, curling his fingers in the soft fabric of the t-shirt. He opens his mouth, but Eliot is gone before he can say anything.

*

As soon as Eliot is through the door of the cottage, he's talking, "he has a hot roommate."

Margo looks up from the couch. She's painting her toenails; a pretty lilac. She raises both eyebrows. "Who?"

Eliot sighs heavily and walks over, plopping in a chair. He doesn't dare risk possibly ruining Margo's work and joining her on the couch. Been there, done that.

"Quentin," he grumbles.

Margo nods. "Ah." She finishes her last nail and closes the nail polish. "How hot?"

Eliot glances at her. "Hot," is all he says.

She purses her lips. "That bad?" she asks softly.

"I didn't invite him, but Quentin probably did," he sighs, leaning his head back. He glares up at the ceiling. Then, he gets an idea. Margo always loves taking someone back to her room with her after a party. "Maybe you can take him off our hands."

Margo doesn't say anything. That's... odd. Eliot looks at her. "What?" he asks.

"Wellllll," Margo says, "I kind of already have a date tonight."

Eliot blinks. "Oh," he says. "Who?" She definitely hadn't mentioned anything about that.

She grins, tilting her head. "She's a newbie, too," she says, eyes sparkling. "Her name is Alice, and... wow, El, she's fucking hot."

"Alice?" he asks. "Alice Quinn?" he adds after a moment. "I thought she was - " he gestures vaguely.

Margo nods. "Yeah, I probably won't be getting any tonight, per se, but..."

"She's worth playing the game?" he asks, thinking of his own earlier thought.

Margo grins again. "Yeah," she says.

"Okay," he smiles a bit. "Well, then, I guess I'm on my own."

Extending her leg, she gently jostles him with her foot. Carefully, because of her wet nails. "I don't care how hot this guy is," she says, "I believe in you, El."

"Wow," he puts a hand over his chest. "Thank you, Margo."

She laughs sharply and rolls her eyes. "Fuck you. I'm being a good, supportive friend."

He grins. "Just keep that energy after you see him, okay?"

*

Penny throws on a loose, silk shirt with dark brown pants. He's pulling on jewelry when Quentin steps back into the room from the bathroom, wringing his hands. He doesn't know why he looks so nervous.

He looks good. Amazing, really. Dark, tight jeans and an equally tight black t-shirt.

"I feel like he's making fun of me," he says.

Penny puts on a gold ring; the final touch. "Who?"

"Eliot," he replies quickly. "I mean, this - " he looks down at himself. "I totally look stupid."

Penny licks his lips and huffs, kind of a laugh. "You do not," he says.

"Please." Quentin rolls his eyes. "I can't pull this off, like you and Eliot can." Sighing, he grabs a pair of boots and starts tugging them on over a pair of mismatched socks.

Jesus. Penny clears his throat. "You can," he says. "You definitely can."

Quentin looks up. He smiles a bit hopefully. "Really?"

"Yeah," Penny turns away and rolls his sleeves up. "It's almost nine. We should go."

The party is already booming when they arrive, and Penny can immediately tell Quentin is out of his element. He places a hand on the small of his neck and - bingo - Quentin relaxes. "It'll be fine," he says.

"I - right." Quentin takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders. "Okay."

Penny opens the door and stands back while Quentin enters first. Following after, he glances around curiously. The cottage is significantly bigger on the inside than the outside. He spots a bar.

"Hey," he says.

Quentin glances at him, questioning.

"I'm gonna go grab us some drinks, okay?"

Quentin smiles lightly. "Okay. I'll, uh - " he gestures wildly. "Be somewhere."

Penny turns away and walks to the bar. He regrets his decision as soon as he sees who's working the bar. "Eliot," he greets dryly.

"Penny," he greets back. "So glad you could make it," he says blandly. "Where's Quentin?"

He smirks. "No clue," he lies. "What are you serving?"

Eliot frowns, but starts making him a drink anyway. Penny leans against the wall, watching him closely. Then, "I don't get it."

"What?" Eliot looks up a bit too quickly.

Penny narrows his eyes. "I might not know you, but I know your type," he explains. "Leave the kid alone. He doesn't need the heartbreak."

Eliot laughs, sudden and sharp. "Oh, that is rich coming from you." He shoves a glass of colorful, fruity smelling alcohol in his face. "I might not know you, but I know your type, too. You think you're above me? Please."

"I - "

Before he can say anything, Quentin appears, looking wildly out of place. Still. He smiles at Eliot, a bit sheepish. "Hi. Uh, can I get a drink, too?"

Penny takes his drink and watches as Eliot nods, moving quickly.

Once he's finished, he hands Quentin the drink. He takes a tiny sip and smiles brightly. "Wow," he says, eyes sparkling. "This is amazing."

Eliot practically beams at the compliment. Penny rolls his eyes. "Thanks."

For a moment, it's silent. "So," Quentin says finally, taking another sip. "You two must be getting along well," he finishes, smiling.

Penny glances at him. "Why the fuck would you think that?"

Quentin startles a bit. "Uh. It's just - I don't know." He shrugs. "You two are so similar."

"I have never been more personally offended," Eliot says.

Quentin glances between them slowly. "Uh. Okay. I'm gonna - " he gestures vaguely and scurries off. Penny watches as he bumps into a girl with wild, curly hair.

"Great," he says. "Look what you did."

Eliot scoffs. "Hardly."

*

Eliot meets up with Margo about twenty minutes later. He hands her a drink, and she smiles gratefully. "I forgot how tiring the high-strung types can be," she says with a sigh. "But God," she groans, "she's so hot."

He laughs lightly, nudging her. "Hey, look, that's him." He points discreetly. "Penny."

"Oh." Margo blinks. "Oh," she repeats. "He is hot."

"I know," Eliot grumbles, folding his arms. "And he's playing the part of bad boy with a heart of gold annoyingly well."

She pats his arm. "I still believe in you, El," she says.

"Thank you, darling," he says, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, carefully. He doesn't want to mess up her lovely hair. "Now, go get your girl, okay?"

Margo pulls away and cups his face. "And you get the boy."

"I'm trying my best," he assures her with a soft laugh. "Go."

Smiling, she slips away and he sighs, looking around. He spots Quentin alone by the stairs and brightens. Bingo.

When he walks over, Quentin looks up and smiles, relaxing. "Oh, hey."

"Where's..." he trails off, glancing around for any sign of Penny.

Quentin hums thoughtfully. Then, "Penny? I'm not sure." He shrugs. "Bathroom?"

He nods. He doesn't really care where he is as long as he's not here. "How are you doing?" he asks, moving closer.

Quentin bites his bottom lip. "I'm okay. I think?" He sighs. "This really isn't my... scene."

"You didn't have to come," he says. "I'm sorry for pushing."

Quentin peers up at him. "I - I wanted to," he says quickly, flushing. Oh.

"I'm glad you did," he replies quietly. "Hey, wanna go outside? Get away from all - " he gestures " - this?"

Quentin sighs again. "Please?"

The deck is empty for the most part. Eliot shoos a few students away from the two chairs. Quentin sits gingerly.

"Want a smoke?" Eliot asks, sitting. He pulls out a cigarette and extends it.

Quentin shifts and reaches over. "Sure." He puts the cigarette between his lips. Eliot thinks he has very pretty lips, but he knows it's way too soon to be saying anything so blunt. "Do you have - "

Eliot snaps his fingers, and the cigarette lights. Quentin startles. "Oh," he breathes. "That's, uh - " he laughs lightly. "Convenient."

For a few minutes, they don't say or do anything. Just sit, smoking silently.

"Do you think you could show me how to do that?" Quentin asks suddenly.

Eliot looks over. "Do what?"

"The, uh - cigarette thing?"

Eliot smirks. "I can," he says. He turns in his chair. "Come on. Watch me."

Quentin nods quickly and turns, facing him properly. Eliot stares at his face for a beat too long before finally glancing down at their hands. He performs a few simple tuts, slowly.

"But you didn't do that," he says, pursing his lips.

Eliot laughs. "I did," he says, "at the beginning. After a while, you won't have to."

Quentin nods. "Okay. Um. Let me try." He tries repeating the tuts, but he messes up a lot. It's kind of cute, Eliot thinks, which is almost startling.

He didn't think of people as cute. Hot, sexy, alluring, sure, but never cute.

"Here," Eliot reaches out, "let me."

Quentin nods, taking a short, sharp breath as Eliot grabs his hands, showing him what to do. "Move your index finger like - "

He looks up, trailing off. Quentin is staring at his mouth. Eliot licks his lips.

"Hey," he says quietly. "You need to pay attention."

Quentin swallows thickly. "Right."

Eliot slowly, softly runs his thumb over Quentin's knuckles. He shivers.

"I - " he gulps. "I think - uh."

Eliot stares up at him, unblinking. "Quentin," he breathes. "Can I?"

He's not sure Quentin will understand what he's asking, but he nods quickly. So probably. Eliot smiles, just a hint. Checkmate, motherfucker.

Leaning up, he softly, gently presses their lips together. Quentin makes a noise - a very sexy noise - in the back of his throat. Like a mix of a moan and whimper.

God, he was so... something. Everything.

Eliot releases his hands and reaches up, cupping his face. He slowly, tentatively deepens the kiss; runs his tongue over his bottom lip. A silent question.

He gets an answer quickly in the form of a moan and Quentin's mouth falling open.

Eliot fights the urge to grin against his lips and drops a hand to the back of his neck, squeezing. Quentin gasps into his mouth, and he carefully locks that information away for later.

After a while, they pull away from each other. Eliot wishes they didn't have to.

But, you know, air.

"Wow," Quentin says.

Eliot grins. "Wow," he repeats.

Before he can suggest they do that again (all the time, preferably), the door opens. Eliot quickly looks up, and bristles when he sees -

"Penny," Quentin says. He wipes his mouth. "Uh, hi."

Penny promptly ignores Eliot and stares at Quentin. "I was about to head back to the dorms," he explains. "Do you wanna come with?"

He glances at Eliot and quickly back again. "Sure," he squeaks, jumping to his feet.

Eliot stands up. "Quentin."

"I - " Quentin blushes, red as a beet. "I - I'm tired, okay?"

Eliot frowns, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Okay," he says. "Later?"

"Um. Yeah," he says, rushing through the open door under Penny's arm.

Penny grins. "Later, dude," he says, obviously mocking. He turns away and follows after Quentin.

Eliot glares at his back. Fucker.

*

"Okay, I know we're not, like, friends," Quentin is saying, wringing his hands, "but - but can I ask your advice on something?"

Penny looks up at him, raising both eyebrows. "Rude," he jokes, "but go on."

Quentin blushes. "I didn't mean it like that," he says quickly. "We're just..." he gestures a bit wildly. "We just met, is what I meant."

"I know what you meant, Coldwater," he says, rolling his eyes. "Go on," he repeats.

Quentin nods sharply. "Um. Eliot kissed me," he says all at once, words blending together.

Penny bristles. "What?" he asks.

"At the party," he says, looking away. "He kissed me, and I think I was kind of a dick about it." Quentin sighs heavily, burying his face in his hands. "God, I am a dick."

Penny stares at him, because he can without Quentin noticing for once. "Did you want to kiss him?" he asks.

"Oh," he replies, muffled slightly. He slowly lowers his hands. "Um. Kind of." He bites his bottom lip. "Yeah," he adds after a moment.

Penny nods slowly. "Okay." Fuck. "Well, why do you think you did something wrong?"

"After the kiss is when, uh, you showed up," Quentin mutters, "and you saw. I just kind of ran off without saying anything."

Penny nods again. "Why?"

"I..." Quentin wipes his palms off on his jeans. "I don't have a lot of experience with... this." He gestures vaguely. "Parties or relationships or - or whatever it is Eliot wants. And when I get nervous, I run."

Penny stands up. "Are you nervous right now?" he asks.

"Uh, no?" he says, half a question. He laughs sheepishly. "Why would I be?"

Penny steps closer, humming lightly. "Because Eliot isn't the only one who wants to kiss you, Quentin," he says easily.

"Wh - " Quentin stares up at him. "What are you talking about?"

Penny tilts his head, waiting. Quentin was an idiot - that was half his appeal - but he couldn't be that dumb.

Quentin's eyes widen. "Oh." He gulps. "Oh," he repeats lamely.

"Are you nervous?" he asks again.

Quentin blinks. "I - I don't know. My brain isn't really working."

Penny slowly grins. Reaching out, he softly places a hand on Quentin's hip. "Now?"

"Um." Quentin licks his lips. "Getting there," he mutters even as he shuffles closer.

Penny leans down, their noses brushing. "Now?"

Quentin takes a shaky breath. "Yes," he whispers.

"Are you going to run?" he asks. He reaches up and places his other hand on Quentin's hip, too.

Quentin swallows audibly. "No," he says, tilting his head up.

Penny takes that as the yes it is intended to be and kisses him softly on the lips. His lips are a little rough, but Penny doesn't mind, really. He pulls him closer and deepens the kiss quickly, licking into the shorter man's mouth.

Quentin apparently likes that... a lot, moaning loudly.

From kissing. God, Penny wanted to see how he reacted to other things.

After a moment, Quentin pulls away. He's flushed and breathing heavily. "Wow."

"Yeah?" Penny prompts, squeezing his hips. "Want to do it again?"

Quentin gulps, staring at Penny's mouth. He looks like he's really going to say yes for a few seconds before, "I - I need to sleep," he blurts. "Um. Sorry?"

"Oh." Penny's hands drop. "Okay."

Quentin smiles sheepishly and turns away, rushing out of the room. To the bathroom, probably, but he doubts he actually needs to do anything in there. Sighing, he sits on the edge of his bed and slumps.

*

"Julia, I was kissed last night," he says quickly, words seeping together. "Twice."

She looks up from her book. She hadn't been accepted into Brakebills, but he's been sneaking her books and spells weekly. She's already improving faster than him. (Quentin really doesn't understand how Brakebills picks their students.)

"Twice?" she repeats. "Wow, Q, Brakebills has changed you."

Quentin nearly whines, plopping in a chair. "Julia, please. I don't know what to do."

"Okay," she sighs, closing her book. "Explain."

So he explains everything.

"Wow," she leans back, folding her arms over her chest. "Two hot dudes, huh?" Quentin gives her a pitiful look, much like a puppy. She grins. "I'm sorry," she laughs softly. "So what, you need help picking one?"

Quentin shrugs, a sharp, jerky movement. "I - I don't know."

Julia narrows her eyes knowingly, playfully. "You don't want to pick."

"I - " he looks up quickly. "I don't know," he repeats quietly, blushing.

Julia grins, eyes sparkling. "Quentin Coldwater, you want not one, but two studs?"

"I don't know!" he repeats again, louder. "Jules, you haven't seen them."

She laughs. "Okay, Q, look." She leans forward. "Listen, if it's a sex thing, go for it." Quentin blushes deeper. "But I'm not sure you should pursue this with a relationship in mind." Reaching out, she touches one of his knees softly. "Not because those don't exist, but they can get messy. You don't need it."

Quentin frowns, nodding. "Yeah, you're probably right." He stares down at her hand. "I doubt guys like that would ever want a relationship with a guy like me, anyway."

Julia squeezes his knee lightly. "Hey, that's not what I meant."

He looks up, smiling gently. "I know."

"So," Julia leans back, pulling her hand away. "Got any pictures of them?"

Quentin laughs sharply. Sadly, he didn't.

*

Eliot sees Quentin when he's walking back from the dorms and takes a short, sharp breath. "Quentin!" he calls, waving.

Quentin startles and looks around quickly before he finally spots Eliot and relaxes - a little. He's still tense when the other man approaches him properly.

"I was just at the dorms," he explains. "I was looking for you."

Quentin bites the inside of his cheek. "Sorry, I was with a friend," he mutters.

"I was hoping we could talk," Eliot says, smiling lightly. "Over lunch?"

Quentin thinks about Julia, and her advice. "Uh, sure," he answers. Sorry, Julia.

"You don't know this yet," Eliot says, "but I'm a great cook."

The cottage is empty (as far as Quentin can tell) when they show up a few minutes later. Eliot smiles. "Follow me," he says, and Quentin obeys. Their kitchen is pretty small, but to be fair Eliot is one of the only students who actually uses it.

"Sit," he says.

Quentin nods curtly and sits down, watching Eliot as he gathers ingredients.

"So," Eliot says as he cooks, moving around the kitchen. Pasta with veggies; something simple, but always enjoyed. He glances back at Quentin over his shoulder. "Was my kissing that bad?" he asks lightly.

Quentin stiffens. "I - no," he squeaks. "It was... good," he finishes quietly.

Understatement of the year.

Eliot smiles. "I'm joking, Quentin. I was just wondering why you ran off."

“I - I kissed Penny!” he blurts, quickly covering his mouth.

Eliot stills. “Oh,” he says blankly.

Quentin squirms. “I’m sorry,” he says, looking down. “I don’t - this is all so weird for me. I’m not used to having anyone interested in me nevertheless two hot guys.”

Eliot smiles, just a hint. “You think I’m hot?” he asks, teasing.

“I - ” Quentin laughs sheepishly. “Of course I do. I mean, look at you.”

Eliot grins. “Flattery will get you everywhere, little Q,” he says, eyes sparkling.

“No one but my family and Julia has ever called me Q before,” Quentin says, and Eliot can’t read the emotion in his voice.

He turns. “Sorry, I should’ve - ”

Quentin shakes his head firmly. “I didn’t say you had to stop,” he mutters, smiling.

Eliot nods slowly. “Okay,” he agrees before turning back to the food. He finishes the pasta and turns it off, focusing on the sauce. “So, you have two gentlemen courting you.”

He pauses for a reply. He hears Quentin shifting, can picture the sheepish, awkward look on his face.

“I don’t think… courting is the right word,” he mutters quietly. He sounds just a little insecure, maybe a touch bitter. “You both just wanna get laid, right?”

Eliot stares down at the dark red sauce he’s stirring and thinks. That had been his original goal, huh? Eliot Waugh was many things, but he surprisingly didn’t like being a heartbreaker.

He couldn’t help that so many first year boys misunderstood and fell in love with him after a few, joyous nights together.

“I can’t speak for Penny,” is all he says.

It’s uncomfortably silent after that; just the sound of Eliot finishing and preparing the food and splitting it between two plates.

Turning, he places one in front of Quentin and takes the chair across from him.

“I’m - I’m not sure dating is good for me right now, anyway,” Quentin says, going for light. “I should, uh, focus on school.”

Eliot nods. “Taste it, let me know what you think.”

Quentin twists some pasta around his fork and brings it up to his lips. “Wow,” he says. “This is amazing.”

“What did I say?” Eliot replies, smirking.

Quentin bites his bottom lip. “Thanks, Eliot.”

“Oh, no,” Eliot clicks his tongue, and for a moment Quentin looks genuinely concerned. “We can’t have that. Call me El.”

Quentin smiles, a little shy. “Okay.”

Twenty or so minutes later, Quentin leaves after they’ve both finished eating. He thanks Eliot again, eyes sparkling.

Eliot can’t remember the last time he met someone so honest and earnest. It was weirdly refreshing.

Not even two seconds after he’s gone, he turns and rushes up the stairs, two steps at a time. “Margo,” he calls, scrambling to her door.

She opens the door a few beats later. “El?”

“I have a problem,” he says, a little too quickly.

Margo blinks. “Okay,” she says, stepping out of way. “Come in, tell mommy allll about it.”

He snorts and enters her room, pristine as always. Walking over, he sits on the edge of her bed and smiles nervously.

She plops down in her desk chair. “Spill.”

“I don’t think I wanna fuck Quentin anymore,” he blurts.

Margo squints. “Uh, why?” She tilts her head curiously. “I mean even I have to admit the boy is fuckable, in that cute, nerdy way.”

He shakes his head firmly. "That's a lie," he says, "I do, but... that's not all I want."

Margo stares at him, unblinking. "Eliot," she lowers her voice, "do you have a crush?"

Eliot's nose twitches. He can't remember the last time he had a crush. Years, probably. "Maybe," he says. "I don't know. Fuck, Margo."

"Oh, come on," she reaches out and pats his leg, "it's not that bad. Quentin is sweet."

Eliot groans. "You know I don't do relationships."

"Didn't," she replies breezily, grinning like a shark, "but there is a first for everything."

He rolls his eyes, kicking her chair lightly. "Fine. But even disregarding all of that baggage," which was a lot, "I think he's interested in Penny, too."

Margo hums lightly. "Too?" she smirks. "What a little player."

"Unhelpful," he remarks, not unkindly.

Margo grins. "Listen, Eliot." Reaching over, she grabs his hands, squeezing. "Penny is hot, no doubt, but I know you and you are not like anyone else I've ever met. At Brakebills or otherwise. Quentin would be a fool not to pick you."

"Comforting, as always," he leans over and kisses her lightly on the lips. "Thanks, Bambi."

Margo winks. "Don't tell anyone; I have a reputation to uphold."

*

Penny looks up when the door opens. "Oh," he sits up. "Hey."

Quentin looks... oddly happy. Confident, even. It's a good look on him if not a little concerning. He smiles at Penny, eyes crinkling. "Hey."

"Where have you been?" he asks.

Quentin bites his bottom lip and shrugs. "Uh, Eliot made me lunch. Dinner." He glances at the clock. "A meal," he decides finally.

"That's..." Penny squints, "nice."

Quentin nods and gingerly sits on the edge of his bed. He reaches down to take off his shoes, still smiling. Before he can, though, Penny jumps up.

"Just dinner?" he asks.

He looks up, blinking. "Uh. Yes?" he answers.

Penny clears his throat and adjusts his scarf. "Want to grab something for dessert?"

Quentin smiles a bit wider. "Sure?"

"There's this nice place - off campus, of course - that makes the best frozen yogurt."

Quentin bites the inside of his cheek, obviously suppressing a laugh.

Penny narrows his eyes. "What?"

"No, no," he finally laughs, "I just didn't... I don't know, peg you as the frozen yogurt type."

Penny smirks. "There is still a lot you don't know about me, Coldwater." He extends a hand, and Quentin takes it. He squeezes lightly. "Now, come, let me show you the very magical world of frozen yogurt."

Quentin laughs again, sharper. "You're secretly kind of a dork," he says.

"It's my biggest secret," he says, lowering his voice. "Don't tell anyone, okay?"

Quentin nods, grinning. "Your secret is safe with me," he whispers.

*

"I can't do this," he sighs heavily.

Julia smiles softly in that comforting way that always made Quentin feel a little better. "Q, it's not that big of a deal."

"Bu - but I really like both of them, Jules," he says quickly. "And they probably don't even like me back." He slumps, covering his face with his hands. "I don't know what to do."

"Okay," Julia sighs lightly and grabs his hands, squeezing. She stares at him, a serious expression on her face. "This is so not worth it. You are going to a school for magic, Q. You're becoming a little more confident. You said you were making friends, too, right?"

He nods meekly. He'd recently befriended a smart, bespectacled girl named Alice. They'd bonded over their own respective relationship problems.

"So, stop," Julia says, gently. "Don't let two dumb boys bring you down."

Quentin sniffs. "But I can't just..."

"You can," she interrupts. "I just want you to be happy, Q."

He nods slowly. "Thanks, Jules." He squeezes her hands back. "You're the best."

Julia grins toothily. "I know," she says with a little shrug.

Quentin takes her advice to heart. She's right - he's finally happy; why should he risk that over two guys who can't even make their intentions clear? He's not mean, of course (Quentin isn't very good at being mean) but he avoids them when he can, which isn't always easy considering Penny is his roommate and Margo loves dragging Quentin to the cottage with her.

"Hey," Eliot greets one day.

Quentin is sitting on the couch with Margo. He thinks she's only really befriended him lately because she wants to know more about Alice. Or maybe she's doing it for Eliot, who knows. Quentin doesn't care; he won't crack.

"Hi," he says tersely, not looking up.

He feels Margo shift, probably to look up. "Hey, El, can you make us some drinks?"

Quentin tenses. "Uh, actually," he stands up suddenly, nearly knocking into the taller man. He smiles tightly. "I need to - " he gestures lamely. "Yeah."

Eliot stares at him; he doesn't look angry despite his pursed lips and narrowed eyes. "Q, did I - "

"Nope," he replies quickly. "Just been busy." He dances around Eliot, ungracefully, and basically jogs to the door. "See you later, Margo," he says over his shoulder.

He runs back to his dorm and bursts through the door, startling when he sees Penny standing in the middle of the room. Changing.

Like, clothes off.

Quentin quickly looks away.

"Hey, one sec," Penny says followed by the sound of clothes rustling. Then, "dude, you can look."

Quentin slowly looks back. "Uh."

"Is everything okay?" he asks, stepping closer. He might have a shirt on, but just barely. The silk is transparent and the few first buttons are open, revealing a dark, defined chest.

Quentin shudders and quickly runs to his bed, plopping down. "Fine. Yes. Good." He wiggles under his blanket and covers his head with his pillow. "Goodnight," he says, muffled lightly.

He doesn't hear anything for a few minutes. Finally, there's footsteps and then the familiar click of Penny's lamp turning off.

*

Penny goes to the cottage the next day. He doesn't even knock, just throws the door open and stomps in. Margo is sitting on the couch, flipping through a magazine idly. She looks up as soon as he enters.

"Ah," she says. "I've been expecting you," she nods her head toward a door. "Kitchen."

Penny blinks. "What the fuck does that mean?" he grumbles. Then, "kitchen?"

"You're looking for Eliot, right?" she asks, closing her magazine primly. "Kitchen."

Penny narrows his eyes, but takes a step in the direction of the kitchen. "How do you know that?" he asks suspiciously.

She smirks. "I've recently befriended Quentin. It was just because I wanted to at first, but boy, does the little thing like sharing. He's told me alllll about his issues with you and Eliot." She raises her eyebrows. "Mind you, I love Eliot more than anything, but you're both idiots."

Penny scoffs. "Wow," he turns away and puts a hand against the door. "Thanks."

Margo leans up, hugging the back of the couch. "Good luck, you two," she singsongs, waving the magazine in the air.

Rolling his eyes, he pushes the door open and enters a tiny, quaint kitchen. Eliot is sitting at the table, stirring a spoon around in a bowl of soup. Penny squints.

He almost looks... sad, which from Penny's very small understanding of Eliot Waugh was not normal. Or common. Whatever.

"What the fuck?"

Eliot startles, looking up. "Jesus Christ," he breathes. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"No," Penny laughs sharply. "No, no, what the fuck did you do?"

Eliot blinks. "What?"

"Don't play stupid," he retorts. "What did you do? Why has Quentin been acting so weird?"

Eliot suddenly, all at once slumps. "Wait," he says quietly. "You didn't do something?"

Penny narrows his eyes. "No?"

"But he's been... he's been avoiding me like the plague," he leans back in his chair, soup obviously forgotten. "I thought he finally, for some ungodly reason, chose you."

Penny pulls out a chair and plops down, ungracefully. "Wait a sec." He laughs, a bit sharp. "Are you telling me we were both dumped?"

Eliot looks up, pursing his lips tightly. "Looks like it," he mutters.

"This is so your fault," Penny grumbles, folding his arms over his chest. "You should have backed off."

Eliot scoffs loudly. "Please, I kissed him first."

"But you were only going to break his heart," he shoots back quickly.

Eliot glares at him. "You don't know that," he says. "And what, you were looking for something real? Don't make me laugh."

"Maybe!"

Eliot visibly softens at that. "I - " he sighs. "Listen, why are we even fighting about this?" He looks away with a shrug. "We've already fucked up."

"Yeah." Penny stares at the discarded bowl of soup. "Got any more of that?"

Eliot laughs, just a little sad. "Here," he pushes the bowl across the table. "I'll make me more."

Penny watches as he stands up and starts gathering ingredients slowly. "I can see it."

"What?" Eliot looks back at him.

He sighs. "Why Quentin liked you," he admits.

"Oh." Eliot laughs again, a bit sharper. "Thanks?" he asks, unsure.

Penny shrugs and grabs the spoon resting against the side of the bowl, taking a sip. "Shit," he breathes, licking his lips. "This is fucking good." He looks up. "And I don't even usually like soup."

"Then, why did you ask for some?" Eliot asks.

Penny shrugs. "Comfort eater?"

"Oh, been there, done that," he turns, leaning against the counter. "But now," he reaches in his pocket and pulls out a pack of cigarettes, humming, "I've upgraded."

Penny stares at him ludicrously. "Think that might be considered downgrading," he replies lightly, teasing.

Eliot barks out a laugh. "Hey, fuck you," he says. Then, "want one?"

"Fine," Penny says, extending a hand.

Eliot hands him a cigarette and sighs. "To getting dumped," he declares.

*

"He's not that bad, actually."

Margo looks up, squinting. "Who?"

"Penny," Eliot says, taking a sip of his drink. Margo gives him a hard look. "I'm just saying," he adds.

She rolls her eyes. "You are so soft. So what, you're going to date him now?"

Eliot shrugs. "I did not say that."

"I think," Margo says slowly, "you should both talk to Quentin soon. Together."

Eliot looks away, frowning. "I think he's been perfectly clear about what he wants, Bambi." He takes another sip. "What would be the point?"

"I don't think you guys have given him the one choice he really wants," Margo says.

Eliot looks back at her. "What?"

"Nope," she says, wagging her finger. "Just trust me, okay? Talk to him."

Eliot shrugs. "I'll think on it, okay?"

Margo beams. "Okay."

A few days later, Penny shows up again.

"What are you doing here?" Eliot asks, raising both eyebrows. "I don't have any soup today," he adds after a moment.

Penny flips him off and walks over, plopping down on the couch. He sighs. "I'm bored."

"I - " Eliot bites the inside of his cheek, suppressing a grin. Because he has no reason to grin. "And I'm what, your local amusement park?"

Penny looks up at him, humming softly. "Sure," he decides with a shrug. "But gotta say, amusement parks are usually much more interesting."

"Okay," Eliot laughs sharply. "Two things. One, fuck you. Two, get out."

Penny sighs, content. "No thanks. I'm good," he says, stretching.

"It wasn't a suggestion," he replies blandly.

Penny looks up, smirking. "Really? My bad." But he promptly doesn't move an inch.

Eliot walks over and sits on the table in front of him, crossing his arms. "Okay," he says. "What do you want to do?"

"What?" Penny blinks, looking surprised by the development. "I - I mean, okay." He shakes his head firmly. "What do you like to do, for fun?"

Eliot smirks. "Alcohol, drugs, parties. Oh, and magic."

"What kind of drugs?" he asks, narrowing his eyes. He looks more curious than anything.

Eliot licks his lips, slowly. Penny's eyes flicker to his mouth, staring, and for a moment Eliot considers saying something. Making fun of him, probably.

But he doesn't.

"Let me show you," he says.

*

"Fuck," Penny sighs. "What the fuck was that?"

Eliot looks over and grins toothily. "Magic was made for drugs," is all he says.

Penny can't remember the last time he felt so... loose, comfortable, content. He shifts on the couch, pressing up against Eliot's side. It's an accident, of course, but he doesn't jerk away. He convinces himself it's because Eliot is so warm, and he's kind of chilly.

"Got anything else?" he asks.

"Who do you think I am?" he says, eyes sparkling. "But not now. Later. You shouldn't mix drugs, especially magical drugs."

Penny groans. "Fine," he mutters, closing his eyes. "God."

"Surprisingly not the first time I've been called that," Eliot quips.

Penny snorts. "Yeah?"

For a few minutes, neither of them say anything. The silence is surprisingly comfortable, Penny thinks. Weird.

"Hey," Eliot says.

Penny hums. He doesn't open his eyes.

"I actually think you're decent," he says.

Penny barks out a laugh. "What the fuck kind of compliment is that?"

"I'm just saying," he mutters.

Penny sighs lightly and turns his head, finally opening his eyes. "Okay," he says, quiet.

Eliot swallows thickly. He doesn't say anything for a few seconds. "Margo said something, and I think she's right," he blurts finally.

"Oh?" Penny asks, raising both eyebrows.

Eliot licks his bottom lip. "We should go talk to Quentin." He pauses. "Together."

"Why the fuck should we do that?" he shoots back quickly, a bit harsh. He visibly softens after a moment. "I just... I don't know if that's a good idea."

"Me neither," he admits with a shrug. "But I still think we should try."

Penny scoffs, almost a laugh. "And say what?"

"I don't know," Eliot looks away. "Tell him we understand, let him know we're... friends now. That he can make a decision and the other won't be mad. Or something."

Penny bites down on his bottom lip, suppressing a smirk. "Did you just imply we were friends?"

"I - " Eliot looks at him. "I don't know," he says. "I thought - "

Penny nudges him with his foot. "Calm down. I'm just messing with ya," he mutters. He stares at Eliot for a moment, thinking. "Hey," he says finally, barely a whisper, "I think you're kind of decent, too."

Eliot startles. "Oh." He smiles a bit sheepishly. "That's, uh - good." Standing up suddenly, he clears his throat. "I think this stuff is wearing off. One second."

He returns a few minutes later with more drugs. Penny grins. "Fuck, yes."

*

Eliot wakes up with the worst headache he's had in a very long time, groaning quietly. He's in bed, at least. Rolling over, he looks at the clock - ten in the morning. Okay, he can work with that. He'd made plans with Penny to talk to Quentin at four thirty. Sighing, he rolls back over and startles.

Fuck, he's not alone. There's another body, curled up in the blankets.

Eliot swallows thickly and closes his eyes, thinking. He had no memory of what happened last night beyond first introducing Penny to the wonders of magical drugs.

Shaking his head, he opens his eyes and reaches for the other person. He stops, hand in air, when they roll over and he sees their face.

"Jesus fucking Christ," he exclaims, yanking his hand back. "Penny?"

Penny groans. "What the fuck?"

"Why - what - " Eliot grabs the blanket and peeks under. He's definitely naked, and one look at Penny confirms he's in the same boat. "Oh," he breathes. "Oh no."

Penny finally opens his eyes, and - "dude," is all he says at first.

"We are going to pretend this never happened," Eliot says, jumping out of bed. His pants are on the floor, at least, so he grabs them. "And go talk to Quentin later like we planned, okay?"

When he looks back, Penny is sitting up. He nods curtly.

"Okay," Eliot clears his throat. "I'm gonna go shower."

He runs out of the room and shuts the door. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Later, they head to the dorms together. It's silent, awkwardly silent.

"We were high on drugs," Eliot says finally. "It doesn't have to, like, mean anything." He shrugs. "I've fucked half my friends, anyway."

Penny nods. "But we shouldn't tell Quentin," he says. It isn't really a question.

Eliot purses his lips tightly. "I don't know," he mutters. He doesn't really know how Quentin would feel about this. "Just - later, okay?" he says, a bit snappy.

Penny rolls his eyes, coming to a stop in front of their door. He knocks once before opening it. Eliot peers over his shoulder; Quentin is sitting in bed, a book opened in his lap.

"Oh," he says. "Uh. Hi."

Eliot smiles a bit. "Do you mind if we talk?" he asks, gently.

Quentin glances between them frantically. "Like, together?" he asks, closing his book.

"Stop before your brain leaks out of your ears," Penny says, walking over.

Quentin blushes. "I'm not - " He stops, probably remembering Penny is a psychic. "Right."

"Quentin, can I just be blunt?" Penny asks.

Eliot stares at Quentin, waiting for his reply. He kind of wanted to get this over with, too.

Quentin shifts, drawing his legs up. He hugs them, and nods mutely. Eliot smiles, just a hint. Even after everything, he can't help thinking Quentin is adorable as fuck.

"You like us, right?" Penny asks. "Both of us?"

Quentin peers up at them through his eyelashes, shyly. "Um."

Eliot smiles softly and steps closer. "Be honest, Q. It's okay."

"Yes," he squeaks, red as a beet. "But I know - I know you guys don't, and I can't - "

Penny reaches out and places a hand on his shoulder. "Quentin, we're not mad." Anymore, at least, Eliot thinks. "We just want a proper answer, okay?"

Quentin sniffs quietly. "What?"

"Pick," Eliot says, softly. "If you want. If that's not possible for you - "

Quentin opens his mouth, closes it. He frowns deeply. "I want both of you."

"That's not - " Penny starts.

Eliot steps forward, closer. "Q," he interrupts. "You don't mean that the way it sounds, do you?" he asks. Penny looks at him like he's crazy. "You want both of us," he repeats quietly.

"What the fuck are you two talking about?" Penny asks, glancing between them. Then, "oh."

Quentin looks down at his hands, frowning. "But my friend Jules is right. That's not, like, the norm and I couldn't just... expect you guys to want that, too." He looks up, smiling sadly, "especially when you two can barely stand each other."

Eliot grabs Penny by the arm. "Q, can we have a moment?"

Quentin blinks. "Uh, yeah?"

"What are you - " Penny asks as Eliot drags him away. "Wait, are you actually considering - " he laughs. "Jesus Christ."

Eliot squeezes his arm, gently. "Why the fuck not?" he asks. "I've never been against polyamory, personally."

Penny stares at him, unblinking, for a long moment. "You really want to do this?"

"I lied, okay?" Eliot licks his lips, slowly. "I don't just think you're decent. You're actually annoyingly bearable, and I think this could work." He shrugs, "with a lot of time and effort, sure, but what relationship doesn't require a bit of work?"

Penny shifts his weight from one foot to the other. "I didn't peg you as the relationship type," he mutters, eyes sparkling.

Eliot pulls his hand back and shrugs. "Haven't you ever heard of character development?"

"God, you're just as bad as him," Penny says with a low laugh. "Fine, fuck. Okay." Turning, Penny shrugs, shoulders lifting to his ears. "Get over here, Q."

Quentin doesn't wait; he's out of the bed in seconds, scrambling over. "What?"

"Okay," Penny says.

Eliot nods. "Okay," he confirms.

Quentin looks between them. "Wait, really?"

"Yes, really," Penny snorts, grabbing him by the waist. "Now, kiss me."

Eliot scoffs, but he waits patiently. Quentin leans up on his tiptoes - God, he's so short - and kisses Penny softly, quickly on the lips.

"My turn," Eliot says after. He grabs Quentin by the back of his neck, kissing him sweetly.

Pulling away, Eliot smirks down at Quentin, all red cheeks and wide eyes. "Wow," he breathes. He clears his throat, stepping back. "Okay," he looks between them. "Your turn," he says, nodding sharply.

Eliot blinks. "Oh," he glances at Penny. His stomach does something funny. He doesn't hate it. "Right."

Penny rolls his eyes and grabs him by the face, smashing their lips together. Eliot vaguely, far off hears Quentin's soft gasp.

It's wildly different - kissing Penny, that is. Eliot kisses back slowly, placing his hands on Penny's hips. He's so different from Quentin, but, Eliot thinks, surprisingly no less alluring. Just in different ways.

Maybe this really could work. Pulling away, Penny smirks, looking annoyingly proud of himself. "You enjoyed that," he says.

Eliot rolls his eyes. "Oh, shut up." Looking away, he quickly notices he's not the only one with an erection. Quentin is in the same boat. He grins and wraps an arm around the shorter man's waist, pulling him closer. "Come here."

"Wow," is all Quentin says. 

Eliot grins. "Wow," he confirms.

Penny rolls his eyes. "Fucking dorks."