filloryfanboy | starter for formerhighking

Quentin is a bad pet; he's aware of that. He's aware that he's insanely lucky that for some reason, a young Julia Wicker had looked at his anxiety-ridden, clinically-depressed self and thought yeah, that's the one for me. He's not even that cute to make up for all the difficulty involved in keeping him healthy and functional. So he wouldn't have blamed Julia if - when he somehow slipped through the cracks at Brakebills with her when she was invited to take her entrance exam - she'd decided keeping him here would be too much trouble to manage and shipped him off to a shelter while she gets her magical education.

Instead, somehow, it's arranged for him to stay. He's not a student - he's technically considered a Familiar, which is officially because pets have a different relationship to magic than humans though he suspects it also has something to do with formal magical educators being snobby as hell - but he gets to sit in on classes that Julia attends. He's not considered a magician but he's still learning magic, which is absolutely mind-blowing.

The main hitch to the situation is that, as a first-year student who didn't even know magic existed until she was accepted at Brakebills, Julia's not considered adept enough to be responsible for a Familiar. Somehow, this resulted in Eliot Waugh, the upperclassman who'd found Quentin after he managed to stumble onto the grounds of the school, stepping up and saying he'd accept responsibility for Quentin as his Familiar, at least until Julia was deemed ready. So they have a sort of shared custody situation happening, with Quentin staying at the Physical Kids Cottage with Eliot and meeting Julia for classes and things. It's - strange, and disconcerting especially at first, but it's working surprisingly well, for the most part.

Today, though?

Well, he's not hiding, exactly. But there's no classes today, and sometimes Quentin just feels the need to find somewhere quiet, where he can curl up and get away from people for a little while. And he didn't tell Eliot where he was going. But he's still in the Cottage, just tucked away in a sort of attic/storage closet that he'd found in the first two weeks staying at the Cottage. It's not very large or well-used, judging from the amount of dust he'd had to banish with some simple cleaning spells, but it's a perfect place for Quentin to lie down when he's feeling a bit overstimulated by the comings and goings of the Cottage inhabitants. At some point, he'd spread out a couple blankets from a linen closet to make it extra cozy, and he's currently curled around a cushion stolen from the main living area of the Cottage. The only thing that could make it better is if there was a window to let in some sunlight, but nothing can be perfect.

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Eliot is a man of many whims. He doesn't always chase after them, but the day Quentin Coldwater showed his cute, clueless little face, Eliot had immediately decided he wanted him. Unfortunately he came with an owner - a distressingly talented owner. Talented or no though, she was still a first year who couldn't have a familiar. Which meant she had to have a sponsor. Eliot is newly minted third year and he immediately volunteers as tribute.

It quickly becomes commonplace to see Quentin tucked into reading nooks in the Cottage. Eliot's been taking it slow, but he pops up and offers Quentin snacks a lot, and alcoholic drinks, which he's technically not supposed to have. But he's the Physical Kids mascot, so fuck that, he can drink what he wants.

But today there's no immediate Quentin siting, and El hadn't seen him that morning before classes either. He frowns and cast a quick tracking charm which leads him right to a little private closet that only just fits Quentin. Eliot knocks on the door frame gently. "Are we hiding from anything in particular, or just needing space?" he asks.

Quentin just - blinks up at Eliot. He hadn't been napping so much as resting and letting his brain drift in that cozy space between awake and asleep that's sometimes easier to reach when he's curled up in a small space like this. That would probably be too small for a human of the same size to rest in comfortably, but Q's more flexible than the average human and regularly makes that clear by fitting into spaces that look way too small for him.

"Space," he decides before twisting his upper torso in something that very closely resembles a cat's cuddle roll.

Eliot is not immune to the cuddle roll, and crouches down, reaching in to scratch his fingers gently through Quentin's hair. "You look cozy. Almost makes me crave a nap."

Another little scritch from his nails and then Eliot asks. "Just space? Nothing that set you off or anything?" He doesn't seem upset that Eliot can tell - just lazy in his little nook. But it didn't hurt to doublecheck.

"You could take one," he points out, even as his own eyes slip shut at the feeling of fingers in his hair. He might even be convinced to take one with Eliot, though there's not really room for him right here. Eliot's bed is pretty nice, though, and he wouldn't mind relocating for that purpose.

At the question, though, he opens his eyes again because for some reason, the humans taking care of him usually prefer he look at them when talking about things like this. (The fact that he's lied to Julia before and had to be dragged to a vet when his mental state took a sharp downturn might have something to do with it.) "Lot of people downstairs," he admits.

"I don't think I'd fit in there with you," Eliot says with a smile. His legs aren't really meant to be tucked into corners well.

He brushes his fingers through Quentin's hair, slow and methodical. "There are. There usually are in the Cottage. You know you can always go curl up in my room if you want to get away, right?"

He could curl up in his own room too, but Eliot likes having Quentin in his own space.

"It felt like more than usual. And I like it here." He does like it in Eliot's room, too, admittedly, which is why he's starting to sit up, albeit slow so he doesn't dislodge Eliot's hand in his hair. It feels too nice. "But we can go to your room." Because now that the possibility's been brought to mind, he'd like to curl up with Eliot.

"It might be, Margo's courting the herbalists for access to better weed," Eliot says wryly.

He watched Quentin as he pets his hair and sits up, appreciating the smoothness of his movement. "If you want to. I can leave you be here if you'd rather." But he offers Quentin his hand after a last pet to his hair.

"I want to go with you," he decides as he accepts Eliot's hand, following him upright and then pressing himself into the human's side. Because Eliot's warm and comfortable, and if Quentin takes a moment to nuzzle his cheek into Eliot's shoulder, then that's absolutely nothing to be ashamed of.

"Okay," Eliot says. He leaves his hand in Quentin's and turns his head to press a kiss to his hair when he nuzzles in. "I reset my warding spells so they'll let you in any time you want a place to crash," he says, leading Quentin toward Eliot's room upstairs.

He opened the door to let them both in, and then slipped into Eliot's room. A king sized bed dominated the space. Gauzy fabric hung from the walls in rich purples and blues, and his bed was covered by a similar bedspread. There were a few clothes strewn about, but it was largely neat, if just full of stuff. "Make yourself at home, Q."

Eliot's room isn't comforting in the same way that Quentin's closet is, but it is comforting. The fabric hung along the walls give it a coziness despite it being much bigger, and while there's something to be said for curling up in a small space and feeling its borders press around you, there's also something to be said for a king-size bed and having plenty of space to sprawl out.

The fact that it smells like Eliot is a plus, too.

He doesn't actually make any move to get comfortable until after Eliot's given him the official invitation, and he basically makes directly for the bed, sliding under the bedspread and nuzzling his face against a pillow the same way he did with Eliot earlier. Once he's more or less stilled, he blinks at Eliot, clearly waiting for him to join Q.

Eliot watches Q bee-line toward the bed and smiled before he toed off his shoes and slid in after him, body curling around his so he's spooned up against Quentin. "Almost as good as your nap space?" he teases, hand petting through Quentin's hair.

Cute as Quentin was when he was worrying about something, Eliot likes this Quentin best - languid and content.

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