Archive of Our Own

Eliot had been through some rough times recently. He’d… Well. He’d killed his boyfriend, who’d been mind-controlled and maybe not really his boyfriend at all? It was complicated.

But the thing was, whether it had been real or not, Eliot’s feelings had been real, and Mike had been there when he was pining for Quentin and helped him get over himself. Mike had made Eliot feel sexy and seen and like pointless crushes on straight boys could be put behind him.

Or, well, Mike had made Eliot feel like that until Quentin and Alice came back from Brakebills South all coupled up, and then Eliot’s jealousy had stung like a fucking yellow jacket, but it was what it was, right?

Then Eliot had to kill Mike, because it was that or certain doom for basically everyone, and what else was Eliot even going to do? He wasn’t exactly lawful good, but he had his principles, most of which revolved around fashion and entertaining, but a few of which centered on keeping his friends safe.

He didn’t think he’d have gotten through it as well as he had without Quentin and Alice providing him with the kind of supernerd comforts only they could offer. Margo was fantastic, always, and Eliot loved her with every beat of his heart, but she didn’t do soft often, and he could only lean on her so hard. She had her own things going on.

The thing was, though, what Eliot really needed was Quentin, and Quentin was with Alice, and it was all very complicated, and Eliot really thought he was imagining those long, searching smiles Quentin had been giving him since they met. Eliot was, well, a boyfriend-murdering fuckup, and Alice was all brightest witch of her age and stacked, and also blond, which seemed to be a big selling point for straight boys, and also Quentin was, as far as Eliot could determine, a dirty, nasty hetero.

So the ongoing crush was a problem. It really was. And the other thing was…

Alice was too smart not to notice. Quentin might not pick up on Eliot’s flirting, but Alice? Alice would.

One night, Alice took Eliot aside while Quentin lounged wine-drunk on the couch rereading Fillory and Further for probably the umpteenth time. She looked up into his eyes, and he knew.

He knew she knew.

But she hugged him around the waist and rested her head on his chest. Her glasses went wonky, and the corner kind of poked through his monogrammed silk pajama top, but it was nice. It was so nice to be seen like that, to be accepted and acknowledged.

Then she said, “He likes you too. I don’t think he knows it yet.”

And everything kind of unspooled rapidly from there.

It was fucking insidious, this idea Quentin returned Eliot’s feelings. If Q could feel toward Eliot anything like the manic, obsessive attraction Eliot felt toward Q…

But Alice wasn’t the prude Eliot had thought she was. She confided little things in Eliot, little tidbits about her family, about her upbringing, and he realized she was every bit as sophisticated as Eliot had always aspired to be. She’d witnessed throuples crash and burn, she’d learned the poly rules, and she knew how to navigate the intricacies of the situation in which they’d found themselves.

So she sorted it out. Eliot didn’t know how exactly. It was lost on him what her midnight conversations might be lying in Q’s bed, what subtle charm she might work on him to help him see himself more clearly.

But on another wine-drunk night, the three of them started kissing, and then they just never really stopped. Eliot was reasonably fluid, and Alice was extremely lovely, and it turned out that all the preconceptions he had about her were fated to shatter because she was almost as wild as Bambi when it came down to it.

And Quentin…

Quentin definitely felt what Eliot felt. And Quentin, however he might identify—or not, since he seemed to think labels were beside the point—was not a dirty, nasty hetero heartbreaker. He came on shy and hesitant, but as soon as he realized the sky wasn’t falling, he went for it, and Eliot could certainly respect that.

Even Margo approved, when Eliot gave her the sworn-to-secrecy blow-by-blowjob.

What she didn’t approve of—and what Eliot could neither defend nor condone—was the fashion.

“She’s just too pretty to let her walk around dressed like she’s stuck in a ’90s time warp. I mean, it’s cute sometimes, but I have ideas. And Q, well… good luck with that one.”

Margo grinned in that slightly wolfish way she did when she spoke of Alice, and Eliot knew he wasn’t alone in his love of depressed super nerds, but he didn’t want to rock the boat.

“Yes, well, I appreciate the well wishes, Bambi, and you should know that I have every intention of staging an intervention as soon as I can feasibly do so without alienating them and becoming sexsona non grata.” Eliot huffed a little and combed his fingers through his curls before turning his attention on his phone.

He’d stretched out across Margo’s bed, and they were working their way through the crate of Rioja Margo ordered earlier in the week. She flopped on his back and peered over his shoulder as he swiped through some online shopping on Bloomingdales.

Margo reached over to tap his touchscreen, zoomed in on a personal shopping link, and clicked to book the appointment.

Eliot sighed. “Fine. I’ll take them back to school shopping. Gods know they can’t start their second year looking like little lost firsties. I intend for them to rule this school at our sides.”

He tossed his phone aside and rolled over, taking Margo with him so she could be his big spoon.

“Pencil skirts. Hobble skirts. Slow Alice down for me so I can catch her this year, huh?” Margo nuzzled behind Eliot’s ear as she squeezed him in a tight hug. “And maybe I can get a glimpse of this juicy booty you claim Coldwater has.”

Eliot laughed that Margo was scheming ways to get into his relationship. It was typical, and he hardly begrudged her. They had a long-standing habit of being each other’s primary in all manner of relationship configurations, and he had a feeling Alice and Quentin would welcome her once Margo was done with her charm offensive.

He tucked his chin in against his chest and dozed off, safe in Margo’s grasp, lulled by her warm breath against his neck.

Then, well, it was so easy just to forget that they’d booked a personal shopper experience. Eliot had been so comfortable, and Margo had been so cuddly, and he’d been warm all over, but his feet had been cold, and it had been perfect. By the time he woke up, everything from the Rioja-binge seemed a million miles away.

When the personal shopper emailed Eliot to ask for a list of preferences and requirements the morning of the appointment, it caught him entirely off guard. He’d been so preoccupied with, well, dating two extraordinarily beautiful young creatures as well as maintaining a very demanding relationship with a snarky goddess, not to mention the school thing.

Although, really, the school thing didn’t bear mentioning. If Eliot couldn’t learn it right off, it probably wasn’t worth learning, and honestly, he learned most things right off. He was terribly clever, just, well. Easily bored.

The intriguing tough stuff he had Bambi read aloud to him in her phone sex voice, which he found really…ahem…drove home the message. Or something? Something.

“Um,” Eliot began eloquently as he walked into the cottage’s kitchen to find Q and Alice making pancakes and drinking coffee. “I have a surprise. A good surprise. A fashion surprise. I expect you will both accept my invitation to go into the city today, go shopping with me, and be treated to fabulous cocktails afterward where we can show off our Bloomingdales shopping and just bask in our own fanciness.”

He paused, looking from Alice to Q and back again. “Have you ever…done that? Just gone shopping somewhere wonderful and then gotten toasty while absorbing the adulation of the masses looking hella amazing in your fresh haul? It’s fan-fucking-tastic, and I really recommend it.”

Stealing Q’s mug from his hands, Eliot sniffed it, took a tentative sip, and then gulped it when he found it to his taste.

“Shopping? For what?” Quentin stared at Eliot drinking his coffee for a moment and then turned to make a new one for himself. He was so accommodating like that. “New espresso machine? Fogg says he’s not paying a thousand for a De’Longhi and I definitely don’t have that kind of money. But cocktails sounds nice.”

“Q, he just said a fashion surprise and that we would be looking amazing in our new items.” Trust Alice to get to the heart of it immediately. She gave Quentin a fond look as if she suspected as Eliot did that Quentin had simply been too distracted by Eliot’s unbuttoned shirt to focus on his words. “Eliot wants to take us back to school shopping.”

It was impossible to gauge how Alice felt about that, though. She could be inscrutable at the best of times.

She reached out to touch Q’s hand as he brought his new mug to his lips, smiling at him with her eyes behind those studious spectacles. “I think Eliot is aiming to give us makeovers.”

Still couldn’t tell if that was good or bad.

“Oh. Um.” Quentin took a sip of his coffee and set it down, looking at his clothes. “Is back to school shopping a thing? I don’t think I’ve done that since grade school.”

Which explained so much.

“I guess I could use a new bag and… some jeans.”

“Yes,” Eliot said as neutrally as possible, though a hint of wry amusement crept in. “Yes, you could.”

He leaned over and kissed the top of Quentin’s head affectionately, spared a hand from his coffee to give Quentin’s juicy booty a squeeze, and then turned his attention on Alice. He sidled the two steps to stand behind her and looked at Q over her head. It was much easier to look at him than Alice; even after having had some truly intimate adventures with her, she still intimidated him a bit.

Which was good. He loved powerful women. He just didn’t want to look her in the eye right now. For reasons.

“Don’t you think Alice deserves some new clothes too? I’m always acquiring new threads for my own wardrobe, and I feel selfish focusing my sartorial skills wholly on myself. It occurs to me that it’s time for me to affirm my love for you both via textile-based splendor.”

As if sensing Eliot’s weakness, Alice turned and looked up at him skeptically. “I like my clothes. They serve their purpose, and they’re comfortable.”

Eliot steeled himself to meet her gaze and offered his best smile. “Is that really the standard by which you intend to express yourself for the rest of your life?”

Alice shrugged, eyes narrowing. “Do you think I’m failing to express myself adequately?”

Eliot looked past her to Quentin, pleading with puppy eyes for Q to save him.

“Did you take Todd out for a makeover? Because he dresses a lot like you, and I don’t want to be another mini-Todd.” As ever, Quentin was lost in his own thoughts and not helpful at all. Then he stopped and looked at Alice. “Maybe you’d like to try some jeans? They’re pretty comfortable.”

Alice huffed, and Eliot echoed it.

Oh, Q.

“I did not give Todd a makeover. I have never dated Todd. He has a, perhaps understandable, case of hero worship. He emulates me through no fault of my own. I have no interest in turning you into a Todd, mini or otherwise. I do have interest in capturing the essence of Quentin Makepeace Coldwater in a bold, graphic way that writs large your extraordinary personality and charm.” Eliot sipped his coffee, set aside the mug on the counter, and then looped his arms around Alice.

She snuggled up to him after a taut moment and rested her cheek against his bare chest between the unbuttoned halves of his silk shirt.

He liked that. A lot. She felt just right nestled against him like that, as perfectly at home there as Bambi or Q would be.

Dropping a kiss to her hair, he added, “I just thought you might like some…better proportioned dresses tailored to your figure.” To Quentin he explained, “Off the rack needs some work when you’re as gloriously curvy as Ms. Quinn here.”

He dropped his hands to smooth her skirt over her bottom playfully before tugging at its short hem. She tensed for a moment and then giggled into his chest and swatted at his hands. In some ways, Alice was still getting used to Eliot’s affections. When they’d started out, she’d been convinced Quentin would be their connection, and it made her blush adorably when Eliot focused on her instead. Which really just convinced him he should do it more. Also it made Quentin stare with his eyes glazed over, which was another worthwhile effect.

“So? Shall we go? I’ve booked an appointment, and we should all get dressed in something comfortable and meet by the NYC portal ASAP. Yeah? Shop till we drop, cocktails after?”

“Yeah, okay. I guess. Could be fun, right? Shopping. Yay.” Quentin held up a hand and swirled his finger in a somewhat sarcastic gesture, but Eliot was going to take it.

Everyone split up to their separate quarters and then emerged changed, clean and perky, ready to shop.

They portaled to New York City, emerging near the clubs Eliot liked to frequent with Margo, and he had a moment of glee thinking soon his partners would have wardrobes suitable for going along.

Assuming, of course, that Eliot could ever persuade Q and Alice to go clubbing. They’d never seemed terribly interested. The allure of pulsing bass, flashing lights, and expensive cocktails seemed less to them, and the Physical Kids’ parties seemed to satisfy their simpler needs.

Still. It would be nice if he could bring them, even if they left early.

Maybe especially if they left early.

Heh.

Eliot hailed a cab, which was relatively easy in this area, especially dressed to impress like he was. He ushered the others into its back, and within minutes, they pulled up outside of Bloomingdale’s. Eliot tipped the cabbie and then led the way into the department store, glancing at his partners to drink in their expressions on admittance to the holy site.

They did not appear as excited as Eliot had hoped.

Alice, for one, had narrowed her eyes as she stared at a display in the window on the way in that depicted a mannequin in high end swimwear meant for poolside display and not actual swimming. She did not appear to approve. Or maybe she just disliked monokinis on principle? Or maybe it was the hand-beading and plunging décolleté, which lent it a glamorous but utterly impractical charm.

Eliot was pretty sure Margo owned it already.

Inside, Eliot basked in the air-conditioned majesty and expensive scent of the place and then steered Q and Alice toward the concierge to check in for their personal shopping appointment. Everything was going on his Bloomie’s card, which he presented immediately, and which was funded by several of his and Margo’s off-the-record cottage industries, including but not limited to matchmaking, sex magic consulting, sommelier services, and event planning.

“Mr. Waugh! A valued customer,” the concierge welcomed him. She checked them in and within moments their personal shopper appeared. They were fey and sparkly in the best way, small and lithe, with a deep-V blouse revealing a flat chest and a spangled skirt swirling around their sandaled feet. Eliot liked them immediately.

“Alice and Quentin?” they asked, a little drawly, voice tinged with vocal fry. “I’m Luster. They/them pronouns. I’m here to make your life a little more glamorous.”

“Thank god,” Eliot muttered. “Someone needs to.”

Alice shot him a look, but she extended her hand to Luster and shook. “I’m Alice. She/her. I don’t entirely know how I feel about glamor, but I’m willing to give it consideration.”

“Oh, um, Quentin. He/him.” Quentin seemed a little mesmerized by their stylist. It wasn’t quite the bisexual panicked look that he’d first given Eliot when they met on the lawn, but he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off them. “I don’t think I could dress like that, but it really suits you. But um, I always wondered about harem pants. Can I put on harem pants?”

Eliot shivered with excitement. Q was getting into it!

He cleared his throat and shook Luster’s hand. “I’m Eliot. He/him mostly; delighted to meet you. I obviously don’t need assistance with my glamor, but this is all going on my card, so I’m overseeing the endeavor.”

Luster beamed at them. “Is there any special occasion we’re celebrating, or is this more of a general refresher for your wardrobes?”

“Back to school, apparently,” Alice said, a little arch. “El thought we should have makeovers.”

She looked to Quentin with a smile and added, “I suppose if we can realize Q’s long-standing dream of harem pants, it will have been worth it.”

Luster looked at Quentin appraisingly, narrowing their eyes, and nodded. “I think we can make harem pants work for you. You’ll have to commit to a more stylish shoe, but it’s doable.” They turned their attention on Eliot then and asked, “Before I get carried away dressing these gorgeous young things, what’s our budget look like?”

Eliot shrugged and gave a mysterious smile. “Money’s no concern as long as we don’t let Alice or Quentin see the price tags on anything.”

“Ooo,” Luster cooed, obviously pleased. “Understood. Price is no object. Let’s go wild.”

“What?” Alice turned on her heel to stare up at Eliot, glaring. “El, I did not agree to that.”

He shrugged again. “You wouldn’t owe me anything for it. It’s a gift. Don’t look a gift whore in the mouth.”

Quentin looked up at him, brows furrowed. “Seems like it could get very expensive. I don’t know, I just thought harem pants looked comfortable? And then I could have Hammer time whenever I wanted.”

“That is an excellent point,” Eliot allowed, nodding slowly, with great dignity.

Oh Quentin.

“That is an excellent point,” Luster agreed, reaching out to place a hand on Quentin’s shoulder, just a gentle brush of fingers across Q’s shirt that reclaimed his attention. “But you shouldn’t worry about the price. We have some excellent sales going on right now, and Mr. Waugh gets an extra discount for having the store card. Why don’t you relax with some cappuccino while I gather some options for you?”

Alice huffed, but even she seemed to respond to the allure of a sale. “Cappuccino?”

Turning toward Alice, Luster smiled. “I have a seating area with private dressing room and amenities. You won’t have to interact with anyone but each other—and me.”

“Private area sounds good. You know what’ll happen there? No one will be able to touch this.” Quentin, almost seeming to defy reality, started to shimmy his shoulders, his feet spread as he did a quick and enthusiastic running man and then shuffled sideways to the little area with changing rooms and snacks singing, “Break it down! Oh, oh, oh, oh… stop! Hammer time.”

So maybe no cappuccino for him. He was wired enough.

Eliot honestly could not believe how turned on he was by these ridiculous antics. He should be so put off that he refused to even share a species with this foolishness, and yet…

Damn, Q was fucking cute. What a turbonerd.

Eliot shared a look with Alice that seemed to encompass both their fond feelings toward seeing Q in a good mood instead of his usual low-energy funk. Something about excited Quentin just made Eliot go hard and soft all at once.

Alice beelined toward the cappuccino machine and prepared herself a large cup filled to the brim with foam. Eliot followed, though he couldn’t quite tear his gaze off Quentin.

With apparent amusement, Luster broke out the measuring tape from one of the pockets of their voluminous skirt and beckoned Q closer. “Let’s start with you, Quentin. I’ll need to get your exact measurements to ensure the best fit.”

They motioned to Q to step up onto the miniature catwalk in the center of the fitting room and brandished the tape like a gymnast’s ribbon. It was fairly magical, which was exactly the point. Eliot’s particular customer card indicated he was a magician and should be afforded the appropriate options. Quentin and Alice had no idea what they were in for.

“Well, as I said as I entered the room, you can’t touch this. But I suppose I can make an exception since I will be getting fresh new kicks and pants.” Grinning, Quentin hopped up onto the catwalk and posed.

Give a nerd a few dozen threesomes, and he suddenly thinks he’s all that.

It was honestly pretty adorable. Eliot couldn’t begrudge the boy feeling his oats.

Luster moved to Quentin’s side and the measuring tape went to work, snaking around Q’s body according to its own prerogative, gathering measurements that appeared in neat, glimmering numbers to one side. Luster made notes and then smiled up at Q like they also found him charming.

“Thank you. You may step down.”

“My turn?” Alice asked as she approached, cappuccino cradled in both hands like something precious.

Luster nodded. “When you’re ready.”

“I’ll take that,” Eliot volunteered, reaching for the cappuccino.

Alice relinquished it with a dark look and then took Luster’s hand for balance as she stepped onto the catwalk. Her dowdy outfit really did her no justice, something Eliot could say for certain now he’d seen her in the altogether. He’d always suspected she had a great figure under her weird woolens and oddly high-cut necklines—they didn’t obscure as much as she might hope—but honestly…

He sipped the cappuccino while Luster took Alice’s measurements, watching idly and daydreaming about how stylish his lovers were about to be. As he gazed at Alice, who looked a little uncomfortable to be the center of attention and therefore doubly bewitching in her prickly bashfulness, he reached for Q, trying to draw him in to stand beside him, where Quentin fit perfectly under Eliot’s arm.

Quentin fell in easily and grinned up at Alice, the corners of his lips curled just so. The creases that echoed his smile deepened, leaving him looking puppyish and adorable as his arm tightened around Eliot’s waist. “I’ve heard that when clothes are tailored to you, even when they look like they might be uncomfortable, they’re actually pretty comfortable.”

He seemed so happy to just stand to the side and look up at Alice and then his dark eyes moved to Eliot, just as sweetly adoring. He rolled up onto his toes, surprising even Eliot with his ease kissing him in public, but that was just Quentin, wasn’t it? “No hard decisions so far. Shopping isn’t so bad like this, I guess. Don’t know how you can improve what Alice wears, though. But I do like when she has on velvet. It’s very soft.”

“Mm yes, some soft fabrics for our brilliant beauty,” Eliot agreed, looking from Quentin to Alice. “What do you think, Quinn?” Grinning, Eliot rasped, “Wouldst thou like to live deliciously?”

Alice didn’t respond until Luster finished with the measurements, and then Alice held out her hands to them both. Eliot and Quentin stepped forward, still tangled together, and reached for their girl with one arm each. Alice plucked her cappuccino from Eliot’s hand, stepped down from the little catwalk into the embrace, and laughed softly.

“Am I selling my soul for a pretty dress?”

“Mm I don’t know, are you?” Eliot teased.

She sipped her cooled coffee and made a face. “Finish this, Eliot. I’m making a fresh one.”

Eliot accepted the drink and resumed sipping it as Alice slipped away. She wasn’t much of a cuddler in public, never given to the neediness Quentin exhibited, but it was all good. They maintained a nice balance with Eliot always willing to give Q that affection when Alice couldn’t handle him clinging and Alice propelling them to actually get shit done instead of spending all day drinking wine and fucking.

Luster had slipped out discreetly while they talked, which Eliot didn’t notice until he turned all the way around, spinning Quentin in a circle with him. Then he huffed and sank onto the couch to finish Alice’s former cappuccino.

“What about a catsuit? Like a full velvet catsuit? Soft all over. Some jewelry, I don’t know. Seems like a soft, silky experience to wear for Alice, and she could still have it in black. Something she can really move in, that feels sexy on her skin?” Quentin seemed to have surprisingly specific ideas for Alice. Conscious always of comfort. “With some silver jewelry. Pieces that could mean something to her. Elegant, but sentimental?”

Quentin sat on Eliot’s lap and took Alice’s coffee from him and finished it off. “I always wanted to try one of those silk t-shirts. I kinda like Penny’s bohemian thing but I don’t want to show so much chest. The asymmetrical shirts are neat. Scarves?”

Alice laughed at Quentin’s enthusiasm. “A catsuit, Q?” Huffing at that, she acquired coffee and came to join them, sitting next to Eliot and Quentin despite the couch having room enough for her to sit on her own. “You would be cute with silk and scarves though. Penny’s very stylish. But if you start showing chest, he’s going to turn it into a competition, and next thing you know, he’ll be coming to classes naked.”

“Well in that case, I think we definitely get Q a chesty shirt,” Eliot teased. “Penny’s a dick, but he’s a hot dick, and you know how I feel about hot dicks.” He wrapped his arm around Quentin and hugged him closer before extending his other arm to drop around Alice’s shoulders on the back of the couch. “But surely you both know you’re getting multiple looks. You’ll be amazed at what a new wardrobe does for your sass levels, and I like you as sassy as possible.”

“I don’t want to see Penny naked.” Quentin made a face, the same one he always made when Eliot would tease him about the intense sexual energy between the two of them. “Yeah, okay. I mean… that’s fine, guess. What’s wrong with catsuits? If you don’t want it, maybe I’ll wear it.”

“Yes,” Alice agreed instantly. “You wear it.” Grinning mischievously behind her cappuccino, Alice nestled against Eliot and peered up at Quentin under her lashes. “You’d be beautiful in a velvet catsuit, Q. You have to do it now. Just think how impressed Penny will be when he sees you in it.”

Eliot snickered and pressed a fierce kiss to Quentin’s temple before murmuring against his skin, “You are ridiculous, baby Q, and I have never been more excited to take anyone shopping in my life.”

Luster reappeared then with a rolling garment rack hung with items in an array of colors and fabrics, all of them looking exquisitely soft. They looked from Quentin to Alice and asked, “Is this poor timing? You look so comfortable all cuddled up.”

Alice cleared her throat and stood, smoothing her dress with the hand not gripping her half-full cappuccino. “Of course not. We’re just enjoying our complimentary beverages. Are we ready to start trying things on?”

“Indeed we are, Alice. Let’s get each of you into a dressing room. I’ll pass you one look at a time, you’ll put it on, and then walk the catwalk so we can all decide if it’s a boot or a toot.” Luster beamed in apparent excitement, like they just really loved their job.

Eliot swatted Quentin’s ass. “Go on, Q. It’s showtime.”

“Should we stagger these? I don’t want to miss Alice’s show. You really just want to dress us up like dollies, don’t you?” Q headed into his dressing room, taking the first outfit with him.

Alice did the same, albeit a little more reluctantly.

It took a few minutes, but then Quentin peeked out between the curtains. “You ready for me?”

“Almost!” Alice squeaked, sounding harried. She cursed under her breath, but a moment later, she triumphantly said, “Now!”

Then she emerged from behind the curtains wearing a short, flirty dress with princess seams that seemed made to embrace her lush body. The deep slate gray silk was true to her usual preference for monochrome, but it also made her eyes glow behind her specs, and Eliot just stared for a moment at what a difference proper proportions made to her look.

Quentin came out in harem pants with a long t-shirt and a few scarves. His hair was knotted in a bun on the back of his head. He actually did look pretty cute, but then he asked, “Is this too yoga instructor, though?”

He wore sandals, and now that he’d said it, it was hard to not to see.

“Can you do downward-facing dog, though?” Eliot asked, raising a brow and leering. Then, snickering, he said, “Of course you can. But I want to see you do it. Go on.” He flicked his hand at Quentin demonstratively, indicating he should humor Eliot.

Alice giggled and twirled, making her silk skirt swirl around her and show off several inches of bare, creamy thigh above her sheer black thigh-high stockings. She did look…just…so good, and Margo was going to die.

Eliot felt distinct pride at the idea of Margo drooling over his partners like he usually drooled over hers.

Not that she hadn’t been totally jealous as it was, but this was going to finally break her.

“Um, yeah I think… I haven’t actually done yoga, so I don’t know what that means.” Quentin stared helplessly, but fortunately Luster demonstrated for him, apparently also eager to see Quentin do it.

“Not sure what this has to do with a dog, but okay.” Quentin got down on the floor and took the pose very slowly, and very seriously. It was actually kind of elegant watching his hands move to his side, to see him push up, his arms and shoulders flexing as he got his feet under him.

He stretched long and lean, ass up in the air, fingers splayed on the floor as he slid into position, finally resting his heels on the floor. Not a yoga master, but a flexible bean anyway.

Alice applauded, as did Luster. Eliot salivated. He was going to fucking wreck Quentin later.

“I think you’re allowed to own that outfit,” Eliot said, embarrassing himself with how thick his voice sounded. He cleared his throat. “It’s a little yoga instructor, but only in the best way. If anyone questions your choices, just do that at them.”

“Yeah, okay.” Quentin wiggled his ass a little before he brought his knees back down and sat up. From that vantage, he looked up at Alice and grinned at her. “You look really good. Do you like this? The material is nice, very soft looking.”

Alice cheekily flipped her skirt over Quentin’s head for a moment, giving him a face full of no doubt delicious Aliceness, then she twirled away and murmured, “This is so…freeing. It’s a little intimidating. I feel like everyone can see me. But it’s beautiful, too.”

Eliot stood and stalked over to Alice, taking her shoulders in his hands, and leaned down to kiss her forehead. He whispered there, “Everyone should see you. You deserve to be seen. You are more than anyone knows or imagines. You are infinite, Alice Quinn, and powerful.”

Then he turned toward Quentin and extended his hands to help him to his feet. When Quentin was standing, Eliot tugged him in like they were dancing, drawing Quentin in against his chest, and then spun him back out dramatically.

“And you, Quentin Coldwater, are a magnificent man who has no idea how sexy he really is. I could eat you both alive.”

Luster’s soft laughter washed over them. “I’m so pleased you like your first looks. Are you ready to try more?”

“Yes.” Quentin approached the rack where he picked up a pair of plaid pants and a sling bag to replace his trusty messenger bag. Then he had a denim shirt with a corduroy coat, stuffed inside with warm fluff. “Okay but catsuit after this?”

He grinned and headed into his dressing room, seeming pretty happy with his choices. Of course he would be. In some ways, it wasn’t far from what Quentin would otherwise wear. Just more stylish.

Eliot laughed as Alice took a short, flirty black velvet skirt and soft silver cashmere sweater from Luster, along with a pair of knee-high black leather riding boots. She looked delighted. She couldn’t even hide it at this point. This was what Alice had wanted and denied herself, the right to be sensual and at home in her own skin.

He could see before his eyes as Alice shrugged off her awkwardness about her family’s weird attitudes and her own internalized embarrassment and self-consciousness. Whatever had done it, he was grateful. She was, in her own way, every bit as fierce as Margo, and it was time she looked it. Maybe after this, she’d be seen at Brakebills as more than just the smartest girl in school, and not just because she had two boyfriends.

And Quentin…

Well. Quentin would maybe finally get some respect.

Of course, probably the person giving Quentin the least respect was Penny, and Eliot doubted anything would change that. Short of just banging Penny. Which seemed like a bad idea. At least, from Eliot’s perspective. He wasn’t eager to compete with a mindreader.

So there, he’d identified one of his own insecurities. He deserved a new cravat, or something.

Luster approached with a little smile and whispered, “They seem like they’re having fun. I hope they’re having fun.” After a pause, “Was Quentin serious about the catsuit?”

Chuckling, Eliot nodded. “He’s…a very soft boy.”

After a few minutes, Quentin peeked out from the curtains and asked for leather gloves, which was an intriguing addition, and then a cowboy hat.

That all sounded… much, but that was just Quentin for you.

When he came out, he looked like a slightly punk, slightly dapper cowboy. “You know what I’ve always wanted? A poncho.”

“A…poncho,” Eliot echoed, eyeing Quentin head to toe and wondering how that even worked. But it did. It provably did. Visually, he was striking and distinctive in a very Quentin way, and if this was what he’d learned at Junior Cowboy Camp, he’d gotten his money’s worth.

“We have those,” Luster enthused, giving Quentin a bright smile before darting back toward the showroom. They returned a few moments later with a poncho just as Alice emerged from her dressing room.

Between the short skirt, fishnets, and tall boots, Alice looked ridiculously sexy, and with the impossibly soft cashmere sweater, she seemed so touchable—in the most forbidding way. Like only those invited should dare. There was something fierce in her eyes that came to the fore when she dressed like this, something avid and atavistic, wild. It really did it for Eliot.

Judging by Q’s face, it did it for him too.

Alice preened as she took in Quentin’s ensemble as Luster helped him on with his poncho. It was…

Well, it was a look.

Eliot whistled low and sweet. “I think this is a resounding success. How do you feel, Q? Fun with fashion?”

“I feel like I should keep them dogies rollin’.” Quentin grinned mischievously as he approached Alice. She gave him a sideways glance and then pulled him in for a hug and a kiss, as if she found him as ridiculous as anyone did, but that she highly enjoyed his goofiness.

He slid his hands over the back of her sweater in their embrace and gave Eliot a thumb’s up, apparently for the softness, but likely for the overall look. After a few dreamy moments of kissing, Alice seemed to remember herself and broke it off, clearing her throat with a faint blush, giving her a glamorous glow.

Eliot laughed at them and held out his arms to both, beckoning them closer. He tucked them in against him, kissed the tops of their heads, and murmured, “You’re both entirely too attractive. I have no choice but to ravish you when we get home.”

Alice giggled and wrapped her arms around Quentin and Eliot both, seeming pleased and contented. “I can’t believe he likes you in that, Q. It’s awful.” But she sounded entirely fond.

“I’ll leave you to enjoy your new items and bring in a few more outfits. Now that we know what you like, we’ll have full wardrobes for you both in no time.”

Luster excused themself and floated off discreetly, leaving Eliot with his arms full of ridiculousness and his heart equally full of something he didn’t like to call love because that would be embarrassing and trite, but it was a rough equivalent that was much less cliché.

“So, we’ll get you both kitted out, and then…cocktails!” Eliot would be grateful to numb some of his unbearable happiness with scotch.

“What do you mean, awful? I’m a cowboy. On a steel horse I ride.” Quentin looked between them with the barest of smirks. “And I’m wanted, dead or alive.”

Honestly.

In the end, Quentin left the poncho and the hat behind. Otherwise he seemed to enjoy all his quirky new outfits. In the cab on the way to the bar, Q confessed, “In the past, the depression… You know. I just, um, stuck to the basics.”

That wasn’t something he was likely to completely shake.

“We’ll help you,” Alice volunteered, glancing at Eliot. He nodded, and they both focused on Q.

“If you get overwhelmed, we’ll pick out the outfits ourselves,” Eliot promised.

Then the earnestness and affection got overwhelming, and no one knew what to do with themselves. Thankfully they reached the bar without delay, and Eliot had never been so grateful for the opportunity to buy alcohol.

Q seemed pretty glad to break for cocktails, too. Both he and Alice had seemed to run out of juice after a bit, but they looked fabulous. Possibly shopping wasn’t the big boost for them that it was for Eliot.

He sprang for a circular booth in the back and ordered them each the magical stress-busting cocktails this place was known for—or well, known to Eliot for; he imagined it was known to Muggles for the ridiculously attractive clientele.

As they settled in with their drinks, Quentin ensconced between Alice and Eliot, chill house music pulsed gently through the space. Other magicians Eliot vaguely recognized drank and talked at the glistening mahogany bar top or danced languidly on the lowkey light-up floor.

“To your second year,” Eliot declared, lifting his tumbler for a toast. “To showing Brakebills what you can really do.”

“And apparently not on that list is wear a poncho,” Quentin said with a wry humor as he lifted his glass.

It appeared that poncho or no, he was getting a lot of second and third looks from those around them. “And to Eliot, for getting our looks together. And to Alice, for wearing cashmere and velvet.”

Alice beamed and leaned into Quentin, kissing the corner of his mouth. She was getting looks of her own. “And to Q, for being cuter than any grown man has a right to be.”

Eliot clinked glasses. “Hear, hear.”

They sipped their relaxation potions and breathed through it as the world slowed down a little around them. Melting back against the comfortable seating, Eliot sighed.

“I’m going to have to really step it up if I don’t want you both to get stolen away from me. The lamentations of Eliot Waugh. That’s what this is. I’ve made you both just…so much more obviously cool, and now everyone’s going to be gunning for me. For me, the visionary who always knew how perfect you both are. I have no choice but to fuck you silly and remind you why you’re mine.”

“Eliot,” Alice mumbled as if awkward about it. “Who could possibly persuade us to stray? Everyone knows you’re the most popular guy at Brakebills for a reason.”

“Margo,” Eliot said darkly. “Of course, to be fair,” he continued, “She’s been into you since day one, Alice. I don’t know how you never noticed.”

With a slightly undignified squeak, Alice adjusted her posture and shot Eliot her primmest look. “She’d have to negotiate her way in. While she’s certainly very beautiful and…has her, ah, charms, neither she nor we would do that to you.”

Quentin just looked pensive at the idea, took another swig of his potion, and then grinned up at Eliot. “I don’t know how you’d keep her out if she’s really determined.”

He leaned against Eliot and took Alice’s hand. “It’s going to be a very interesting year.”

Alice squeezed Quentin’s hand, a contemplative expression on her face. She nodded.

Margo could thank Eliot later.