Archive of Our Own ^beta

It was one of those rare interludes where there were absolutely no crises. No one was trying to kill them. They didn’t have a vital quest or spell to master. They had nowhere to go. They didn’t even have midterms or anything mundane like that to do. In a word, things were... peaceful.

Nonetheless, Alice had been studying up in her room in the Physical cottage. It was her default state. When others had nothing pressing to do they vegged on the couch or read a book or just sat around with friends. Alice studied. She had started not long after breakfast and had worked straight through mid afternoon. By around four o’clock, though, she felt her stomach growling. She grimaced over her textbook. What she wouldn’t give to be able to ignore the petty and annoying needs of her body and just be allowed to lose herself in learning and discovery! But needs must when the devil drives. She closed the heavy book on her lap and slid off her bed to pad downstairs, in search of food.

She was stopped on the first landing of the stairs by a distinctly male giggle . Puzzled, she ducked down to see who had made that sound. It had been so long since anyone she knew had felt anything like that mirthful. What with Beasts, probability spells, brownouts. Her view was partially obscured by the half wall and bar but she saw two heads poking out from one of the couches in the common room and then a knee sprung up between the heads.

“All right. Question three,” Eliot said. “Which patronus would be yours? A) Fox. B) Otter C) Deer D) Dog.”

“Jeeee sus !” Margo groaned. “I’m calling a kibosh on this ridiculous quiz. Gimme the magazine. Is this even a Cosmo ?” Alice heard the rustling of pages and then the magazine flew over one arm of the couch to land on the floor.

“Hey, I was enjoying that,” pouted Quentin. Yes, that was Quentin. She was sure of it. She used to be the one on the receiving end of Quentin’s puppy impersonation, but not anymore. She wasn’t sure how she felt about hearing it directed at someone else. Whatever she was feeling, it wasn’t pleasant.

“I know, baby,” Margo cooed. What the hell? It sounded almost sweet. “Which is why Momma needs to save you from yourself before you drag our collective cool factor down with you.”

“But . . .”

“Oh, just read your book, Q,” Eliot said, indulgently. “Read and I’ll play with your hair.”

Quentin sighed. “Fine, whatever.”

Alice crept further down the stairs, feeling very much like a voyeur. She wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t like the three of them could possibly be engaged in anything sexual given the venue and context of their conversation. Yet...yet. As she came closer she could now see them clearly. Quentin was wedged into one corner of the couch, legs outstretched. One of Eliot’s arms bracketed Q as his fingers slid through Quentin’s long hair. The other was draped across Quentin’s thighs as he balanced a tumbler of scotch and a burning cigarette between his fingers; his head tilted back, eyes closed. Quentin was snuggled down, head resting on the other man’s shoulder as he was stroked, one of his Fillory books in his lap. Beside Eliot sat Margo. Quentin’s legs were draped across her as well. She had a bottle of navy blue nail polish wedged between his calves and was dipping the brush in to lacquer her nails.

“Want me to do your toes when I’m done, Quentin?” she asked. Her tone was light and absently affectionate.

“Mmm,” he said, noncommittally, peeking up from the pages of his book. “Maybe.”

Eliot opened his eyes briefly before closing them again. “You really want to let her, Q. She gives the best pedicures.” His fingers had drifted down from the other man’s hair and were now drawing lazy patterns over Quentin’s collar bone. The smaller man simply smiled and shrugged at Margo and then continued reading, apparently giving his consent.

Minutes ticked by and Quentin nearly glowed under their combined ministrations. They were both touching him; giving him gentle and effortless affection. Alice felt more and more perverted for watching them and didn’t know why. They were fully clothed. Nobody’s hands were down anyone’s pants or shirts. Yet she couldn’t shake the feeling of intense sensuality coming off the three of them.

Time to make her presence know, she thought, before this got any weirder. After taking one final breath she straightened herself and continued (with exaggerated steps so they’d know she was coming) her descent down the stairs and into the common room.

Quentin looked up from his book and smiled at her. “Hey, Alice.” The others didn’t actually scowl at her but neither did they stop what they were doing: Eliot took a drag off his cigarette and Margo was bent over Quentin’s toes, lacquer brush in hand.

“H-hi,” she stammered. “I’m just getting some food. I’ll be out of your hair in a minute.”

Quentin quirked an eyebrow at her. “Oh. Okay,” he said. “You’re welcome to join us though. We aren’t actually doing anything.”

Alice fought back the hysterical giggle that threatened to bubble out of her throat. “No. That’s all right,” she managed to say. “I’ve got more reading to do.” She didn’t hear if Quentin said anything in reply because she was already hurrying into the kitchen.

Quentin nestled back under Eliot’s arm once she was gone. “Did you guys pick up a weird vibe off Alice just now?” he asked his friends.

Eliot snorted and took a sip of whiskey. Margo replaced the brush in her bottle of nail polish. “I think we scared her. Poor thing,” she said.