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An after trial, they did really well, truly, but sometimes a simple little Hex can throw a trial over in a quick snap. Devour Hope had fucked them all over. All they needed was one more gen to escape the trial, but after the fourth to fifth unhook, the Hex had bloomed. Until then, everything went downhill. Everyone had gone down like a literal snowball, two dying immediately and the other two left slugged on the floor. Crawling their way separately from each other.
After a while, Quentin felt the loud ring of his trailmate bleed out to death, essentially leaving him with the Killer and Hatch. Hatch would be hard to find, especially when downed but what surprised him was Hatch spawning right before him, in his face. Nearly taking his nose in the process when the door slams open. Before Quentin even has time to think, the sudden thrumming of his heartbeat from the Killer nearing his area had him high hacking into adrenaline. Quickly getting up from the spot he laid at, he dove into the Hatch. The angry yell from the Trapper and the close of the hatch door was the last thing he heard before everything went black.
When Quentin blinks his eyes open, he was met with a familiar tired face with not so much familiar attire. A groan escapes from The Dreamwalker’s mouth as a chuckle echoes in his ear above him. A soft, gentle hand pats his cheek and he turns his head away, huffing. “Wake up, Quen. You wont fucking believe it.” Joanthan’s voice was sweet with excitement, but soft in a whisper. Hatch always has his ears ringing, so he was grateful for the whispering voice knowing that the others would yell.
“What?” Quentin huffs in another groan, going to sit up but a body holds him down with a straddle on his lap. “Jon, get offa me.” Another chuckles comes from the one above him, but this time it vibrates his body. A warmth suddenly blooms on his abdomen and he could now feel the texture of strained jeans against his groin, soft skin against his stomach not moving. A chill hitting his flesh. “I thought you’d be embarrassed by your state of dress.”
“... Am I naked?” “Like a freshly birthed baby, yes.”
Quentin scoffs but he stays were he lies, only moving his hands to grip onto Jonathan’s hips, pulling him closer. Finally opening his eyes to stare at his companion, he takes notice of his new attire. He now sports longer hair, still kind of styled in his bowl cut bangs but longer from the back, frizzy and messy, sticking out slightly but seemingly thicker and lighter in colour. Though his eyes look more droopy, tired, and kind of red. Like he’s been crying, but the soft grin on his face says otherwise. He’s relaxed, extremely, no longer stiff in the shoulders and posture looser.
Jonathan also seems to sport a very tasteful flannel that smells heavily of weed, making a grin slide onto Quentin’s own face. Lighter and baggier pants seem to also be apart of the new attire, thought a belt still hugs the seams to Jonathan’s hips. “New attire, huh?”
Jonathan’s grin widens, lifting a hand that was out of view into view. Between his fingers holds a lit join, halfway smoked and The Photographer brings the joint to his lips. Taking in a deep drag, pulling the smoke into his lungs he leans forward and down to Quentin. Taking The Dreamwalker gently in his hands, said male opens his lips ever so slightly for Joanthan to blow the smoke into his mouth, inhaling he exhale he does. Quentin lets out a chuckle as their lips brush together, a sweet kiss between them. “Were’d you get that?”
The Photographer just smiles before his courses his hand through Quentin’s hair. Sighing as long and dainty fingers drag their nails against his scalp. Then Joanthan pulls his hand away, but still holding thick locks of hair between his fingers, making Quentin blind rapidly suddenly.
“Holy shit.” “Holy shit alright, babe. You just got yourself a new cosmetic.”
Quentin sits up and Jonathan moves back ever so slightly, but still kept in place by the hands on his hips, squeezing him gently. A slight laugh leaves Quentin as Joanthan drags his hand back to tread through his now long hair. The Dreamwalker watches the locks between Joanthan’s fingers and he smiles, moving his own hands from Jonathan’s hips to gently grasp at his face. Jonathan lets out a giggle and Quentin grins, a near smirk as he pulls his partner in for a kiss, deeper and even sweeter. Tainted in sweetness and with the taste of weed on their tongues.
Jonathan pulls softly at his new hair, a quiet groan escaping Quentin’s lips as said male pulls at his new shirt. Smiles on their lips as they deepen their kiss and pet each other, hands roaming against both skin and cloth. Suddenly Quentin gasps and pushes Joanthan away slightly, hands on his biceps.
The Photographer scrunches his brows together, worry in his face as he stares at his lover.
“What??” “WHY AM I A GINGER!?!”
Jonathan blinks before laughing out loud, Quentin shoving his face in his lover’s shoulders as he feels arms wrap around him. Well, at least he got a cosmetic. Even if he’s naked.