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“Eliot…”
Quentin sits down on the couch and stares at him with wide eyes, until Eliot sighs and looks up at him. “What, Quentin? I’m busy.”
Quentin makes a face because that’s clearly not quite true but shakes his head because this is more important and Eliots the only one who hasn’t lost his god damned mind. “I think everyone’s gone insane,” he nods erratically as if it emphasize the statement.
Eliot sighs again, leaning back on the couch with a roll of his eyes and a wave of his arm in a go on motion, “And how have they gone insane?”
“Well,” Quentin kicks his lips, “Penny pushed me up against a tree this morning -,”
“Sounds pretty par for course, Q.”
“– and kissed me.”
Eliot blinks three times in quick succession before nodding slowly. “Okay. So maybe he’s trying to figure out if his hatred is really fueled by something deeper. Nothing too strange there.”
“Okay…” Quentin nods slowly, “But then Sunderland hit on me after class. It was the history of brakebills lesson and afterwards she was all, ‘Mr. Coldwater, a word?’”
“Probably because your form on half your spells is off.”
“I thought that too! But then she sat down on the edge of her desk and lifted her skirt a bit -,”
“Q,” Eliot shakes his head, “Skirts adjust when you sit down. It happens.”
“That’s what I thought!” Quentin nods again, scooting closer to Eliot as a loud bang sounds from outside the cottage. Eliots eyebrows shoot up as his eyes dart towards the front door. “Ignore that,” Quentin says, grabbing Eliots arm, “Listen to me. Sunderland was hitting on me and offered to teach me things ‘no other woman could.’ Her words not mine.”
Eliots lip twitches as he nods, "Okay, that could be taken -,”
“And then! Three girls cornered me in the library while I was studying spell form work because you’re right - I definitely need work on it, because I fucked up one of my practice spells yesterday.” He shakes his head, waving a hand in front of him, “But I’m getting off topic. Anyways so these girls came up to me and I was all, ‘Hey, what’s up?’ thinking they needed one of the books I had or something. Nope. Do you know what they asked me, Eliot? Do you know?!”
Eliot takes a deep, agitated breath, “What did they ask you, Quentin?”
“They asked! If I! Wanted to have a,” He pauses, leaning forward and lowering his voice, “Foursome!”
“A foursome?” Eliot asks, nodding to himself, “I assume you said yes?”
“Why would I say yes?”
“Three beautiful women want to have a foursome and you, a somewhat heterosexual man, turned them down?”
“First of all, I’m bisexual,” Quentin rolls his eyes and Eliot face contorts in surprise, and barrels on, “Second of all, of course I said no! But that’s not even the weirdest part.”
Eliot perks an eyebrow, “No?”
“No!” Quentin pulls away, standing up and running a hand through his hair as he starts to pace in front of the couch, “Not long after I ran out of the library,” He turns and points a finger at Eliot, “Remind me to return those books when the world returns to normal,” And goes back to pacing. “The weirdest thing that happened was when I got called to the deans office.” He stops midstep as another bang ricochets much closer to the cottage. His eyes dart down to Eliot, wide and worried. “Ignore that.”
Eliot tilts his head, pushing up from the couch with furrowed brows. “Q,” He says slowly, “What exactly am I ignoring?”
“Nothing much.”
“Care to elaborate?”
“Not really, no. Ask me what happened in the deans office.”
Eliot sighs, falling back onto the couch, exasperated and confused enough to play along. “What happened in the deans office, Quentin?” His tone is much less interested and more frustrated than Quentin would like, but he choose to ignore it because Eliot is the only person on campus who isn’t certifiably insane right now, and he can handle a little disinterest and attitude. It’s ten times better than the alternative.
Which is … undesirable.
“He tried to kiss me!” He nods quickly as Eliot double takes. “Yeah! Dean Henry Fogg tried to kiss me. He told me I’m an exceptional student - which we both know is a big fat lie because I’m medirocre at best, don’t worry I realize it, don’t try to make me feel better about it, we’ve got bigger fish to fry right now. And he leaned up against the edge of his desk and he started saying all these flirty things, but I wanted to, you know. Pretend it was just his weird way of trying to be a real human being.”
“But he wasn’t.”
“No!” Quentin exclaims, pointing at him, “Exactly! Then he moved to sit in the chair next to mine, and started scooting the chair closer, and closer to me, and he was all leaning in, and was like,” He clears his throat, and says in his best imitation of Dean Foggs voice, “Quentin, there is something unique and different in you. And then he leaned in to kiss me!”
Eliot looks a little more that frustrated, perhaps he’s veered into the agitated zone. Maybe he doesn’t believe Quentin story, but every unbeilable insane thing that’s happened to him today is - unbelievably true. “So … Dean Fogg tried to kiss you. Without your consent.”
“Yes!”
“I’ll fucking -,”
“And then!”
Eliot’s face falls. “That’s not everything?”
“No!”
“I’m almost afraid to ask.”
“You should be!” Quentin exclaims, brushing his hair behind his ears as he flops back down on the couch and stares at him with wild eyes. “Not a single fucking person today has gone without hitting on me. And it first it was weird, right? But then Alice - even though we broke up a week ago -,”
“You and Alice broke up?”
“Yes, not important -,”
“Kind of important! Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Quentin replies, exasperated, “Forget about the alice thing.”
Eliot makes a face. “Yeah, I’m not sure I can forget about the Alice thing, Q. Aren’t you -,”
“She came up to me and said she was in love with me!” Quentin interrupts, dazed and confused and still feeling the aftershocks of that little confession. “After she broke up with me because we’re not compatible and this whole thing just can’t work out because we’re too much alike, and that our feelings are obviously forced by our circumstances.”
“She said that?”
“Yes! Stop focusing on the Alice thing!” He leans forward and grabs onto the lapels of Eliot’s vest. “She’s only one of many to hit on me today. Or kiss me. Or proposition me. I think the guy in the bathroom earlier had intentions other than peeing, and I feeling like if I didn’t get out of there sooner, I may have found myself on the other end of an unwanted kiss!”
“Who was it?” Eliot demands, eyebrows furrowing angrily as he shifts forward, suddenly much more interested, “Tell me who, Q.”
Quentin lets go of his vest, waving a hand as he stands up again, “Not important!”
“Not important? Q -,”
He moves around the couch so he’s standing in front of the bookshelf. “You’re the only one who’s not hunting me down. I mean, we’re in the same room, obviously, but you’re the only one who hasn’t been hunting me down today -,” A louder, angrier bang followed by several savage screams follows his statement and he winces guiltily, looking down at Eliot, “Please just ignore that.”
“What the fuck am I ignoring?”
“Technically you’re not ignoring it if you’re asking what you’re ignoring.”
“Quentin!” He makes a face, all anger and intention and Quentin sighs.
“Fine,” He mutters, leaning up against the latter on the bookshelf and looking up at the ceiling, “It’s the entire Brakebills campus looking for me.”
He looks down in time to see Eliot’s eyebrows shoot up, and then furrow, his lips setting in a line as he pushes himself up from the couch. “You - You’re saying,” He starts, taking a slow step closer to him, “The entire Brakebills campus is looking for you?
“Yep.” He shrugs, pushing away from the latter and shaking his head with a shrug in a what can you do motion. “They’re hunting me down so they can have their wicked, wild way with me.”
“And you’re here?”
“Well I mean, everyone else was out there. I thought you would be too, but you’re here!” He grins, “And you’re not crazy!”
Eliot makes a face, “Of course I’m not crazy!” He says, moving in and grabbing Quentin by the elbows, “But I think you may be going crazy.”
Quentin laughs, “You try hiding from everyone you know. Even Margo!” He exclaims, pulling away and moving to flop into the jean chair unceremoniously, “Even Margo wasn’t safe. I saw her in the quad and thought, hey maybe Margo can explain this, she’s all suave and unemotional.”
Eliot takes slow steps towards him until he’s kneeling in front of him, narrowed eyes all steely and angry, “What did Margo do, Q?”
Quentin shrugs, “She had this big grin on her face,” He shakes his head, “Which should have been my first clue. But I thought maybe she was happy to see somebody else who was reasonably sane. But no,” He shakes his head, breath hitching as he looks up at the ceiling. “Margo jumped into my arms and asked me to take her to her room and make her wish she’d never been with another man.”
“She did what?”
“I know!” Quentin looks up. “After that, I ran straight here. And then I heard them, calling my name in the distance,” Something bangs on the front door, “I wouldn’t go outside if I were you. There are clothes everywhere.” He shudders, “I don’t know what the fuck is happening, but I’m pretty sure I’m about to be sexed to death.” He pushes up so he’s sitting upright in the chair and frowns. “If anybody had told me eight months ago that I’d be killed by sex from an entire campus of people, I would have laughed in their faces and gone on my way. But they’d have been right.”
Eliot huffs, leaning forward and grabbing him by the shoulders, “Exactly when did this start?”
“This morning, I told you already. You should probably hide,” He makes a face, “They’re going to break through that door any minute, and you don’t want to be a part of what they’re going to do.” His eyes dart across the room before he shrugs, “I mean. Unless the insanity settles in on you any time soon. Then you will.”
“Seriously?” Eliot shakes his head, standing up and pulling Quentin with him, shaking him all along the way, “Q. What started this?”
“How should I know?”
“Did anything happen before this morning?”
Did anything? “Oh!” He’d almost forgotten. “Yeah. Last night Todd came into my room and confessed his undying love to me,” He shrugs, “It was really weird but that’s about it.”
Eliot’s lip twitches again, and the tendons in his throat tense like he’s trying to keep from screaming. “What happened before Todd,” He spits the name, which reminds Quentin of just how much Eliot can’t stand Todd, “Came and confessed his love?”
“Yeah. I already told you.”
Eliot smiles sardonically, “You did. Remind me?”
“I fucked up that spell I was practicing and just gave up for the night. Nothing happened.”
“Did nothing happen or did you feel like nothing happened?”
“I mean, I felt something. But nothing actually happened.”
Eliot’s head drops, and he squeezes Quentin’s shoulders painfully tight. “You cast a fucking spell,” he growls a moment later as more frantic banging sounds against the front and back doors, “You cast a spell and did something to everyone on campus you utter idiot.” He pushes him away and starts towards the stairs, looking back only when he realizes Quentin isn’t following. “Show me the spell!” He exclaims, motioning towards the stairs.
“Right!” He nods, quickly running towards and up the stairs.
*
So. He’d inadvertently cast a love spell over the entirety of Brakebills - and potentially New York, but because he stayed on campus, and nobody off campus was able to get in, except a few alumni, they wouldn’t be able to verify. But Eliot, sweet, sweet sane Eliot, somehow knew the counter curse. And now everyone’s off finding their clothes - and their dignity, somewhere else on campus.
Minus those who live in the cottage who are taking their time to make Quentin knows they absolutely, one hundred percent don’t have feelings for him. Like Todd for instance, who is flapping his arms erratically, trying to explain that he so, absolutely gay, dude. But Quentin’s not paying attention because behind him, far off into the living room Eliot and Margo are having a heated conversation - so not like them - and Margo actually, for the first time in her life, looks like she’s harboring, at least an amount of guilt. So weird.
But then she’s turning towards them, and Todd’s being ushered away and she’s kneeling in front of him all serious and intent.
“Q,” She says slow, “You know I didn’t really want to fuck you, right?”
Quentin nods, because obviously. “Yeah. I accidentally made everyone fall in love with me,” He pauses, wrinkling his nose, “You know I didn’t mean to -,”
“Obviously.” She says, raising her brows and standing up, “But while you’re busy being oblivious to magic, you should,” She leans down, lowering her voice, “Wonder why your love spell didn’t work on Eliot.” She pats him on the shoulder, shaking her head as a look of utter confusion washes over his face, and then she disappears up the stairs like she hadn’t said anything.
A few other physical kids approach him as she walks away, but he stands up, waves them off and makes his way to Eliot. Eliot who’s busy looking like he’s got something else to do. Eliot who is holding a magazine upside down, and is clearly paying attention to everything happening around him but is pretend not to. Eliot who tenses up as soon as Quentin sits down. Eliot who knows something Quentin doesn’t yet know.
“You weren’t affected,” Quentin says, flopping down onto the couch next to him. “Why weren’t you affected?”
He has his own hopes, but that’s not important.
Eliot looks up from the upside down magazine and perks an eyebrow. “I just saved your life. And you’re here interrogating me like I’m the one who accidentally made the whole school fall madly, deeply in love with you? Q, I thought you were smarter than this.”
Quentin narrows his eyes, leaning in and poking him in the chest. “I have had a really long day, and as much as i want it to end, I want answers more.” He leans in closer, staring into Eliot’s eyes. “Explain.”
“How should I know why your ridiculous little spell -,”
“Eliot,” Quentin warns, poking harding, “I have had every person except the person I’m interested in rub all up on me, including Dean Fogg. So, just stop bull shitting for once, and tell me what the fuck you’re feeling.” He nods, tired and frustrated and exasperated, leaning in closer. “Please.”
Eliot watches him for a few long moment before sighing, and setting down the magazine. “You really want to know?”
“I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t.”
“You wouldn’t be asking any other day, either.”
“Yeah, well,” He shrugs, pulling his hands away and his legs up on the couch with him, “You get the whole school to fall in love with you, you start to wonder about the people you actually care about.” He eyes him warily, “So. Explain.”
“I don’t know exactly -,”
“Then tell me your educated guess. You’ve been here longer than me.”
“By a year!”
“Still. Longer.”
Sighing, Eliot looks up at the ceiling with a roll of his eyes. “Fine,” He mutters, flippantly wave a hand as he settles against the back of the catch. He looks at Quentin out of the corner of his eye. “It could be - rumor has it. Love spells don’t … “ He trails off, swallowing thickly.
“Love spells don’t … “ Quentin prompts.
“Affect those who are in love.”
“But isn’t —“
“If they’re in love with the person who cast the spell.”
Quentin’s breath hitches as Eliot’s eyes flutter shit, lips pursing and flinching as the words fall from his lips. So. Eliot’s in love with him. At least, based on him not being affected by the spell, and - yeah. This is absolutely counting as a confession. “So you’re saying,” Quentin starts, grabbing onto Eliot’s elbow, thumb pressing into the pulse point of the vein on the inner side of the elbow, “That the spell wouldn’t have affected you … because you’re already in love with me.”
Eliot sighs, opening his eyes, and turning to face him. “I mean. That would be the jist of it, I suppose.”
Quentin nods. “And you’re absolutely certain there are no aftermath affects of a spell like this?”
Eliot’s brow furrows as he nods, slow and uncertain. “Yes, Q. There are no aftermaths.”
“So if I kissed you right now, you wouldn’t stupidly try to blame the spell?”
Eyes going wide, Eliot looks at him. Then he narrows his eyes. “Are you saying —“
“If I kissed you. Right now. Would you blame the spell?” Quentin perks a brow and leans in closer, “Because honestly, this feeling has been going on since long before the spell, and you’re not an idiot, but if you were like ‘this is totally the spell’ you would kind of be an idi—“
Eliot swoops in and presses his lips against Quentin’s before he can finish the sentence. His lips burn bright and hot against Quentin’s but it’s the first wanted kiss in nearly twenty four hours, and Quentin’s hands find themselves winding in Eliot’s hair, unwilling to let Eliot pull away until he’s ready. He feels Eliot’s breath hitch against their lips, and a small smirk curve on the ends of his lips, but he doesn’t pull away.
“Fucking finally,” They both breathe.
And then they pull away, gaze at each other for a long, silent, swollen moment, and then they’re bursting into laughter because of course it would take a fucking accidental love spell for either of them to make a fucking move.
Of fucking course it would.