eliot's otp

*shouts into the void*: DOES ANYONE a) WATCH LEVERAGE B) FEEL LIKE SCREAMING ABOUT THE ELIOT/PARKER/HARDISON OT3 OR C) SEE ALL OF THE STEREK AU POTENTIAL THAT THIS SHOW PROVIDES

8

mood: Eliot advising Hardison to be more assertive in his relationship with Parker, realising he’s the one asserted over the whole evening, ending up secretly proud of it.

2

Hey, we beat up some dancers.

8

2x12 Ramifications
“Do you got a better idea?”

2

KINGS & FOOLS - a two-sided mix for glass hearts, lonely souls responding to each other & spilled love in-between not quite finding it’s path right away.

Eliot’s Side. (For bone deep disenchantment, beautiful messes, crush at first sight, tumbling into love with a friend who became too dear along the way & feeling like you’re falling short…)

i.raspberry cane - youth lagoon / ii.incredibly still - sombear / iii.boy from the sun - niva / iv.flaws - bastille / v.numbers - daughter / vi.i wanna be yours [slowed] - arctic monkeys / vii.better than heaven - bloc party / viii.shameless - man man / ix.real - years & years / x.prehistoric - now, now / xi.when i’m with u - astronomyy / xii.closer (bradley hale remix) - tegan and sara / xiii.black rainbow - raffertie

Quentin’s Side. (For a mind like a prison, confused heart, getting lost in your own emotions, liking girls but liking a boy too & not knowing what to do with any of it all…)

i.a better son/daughter - rilo kiley / ii.eet - regina spektor / iii.in or out - ani difranco / iv.colour fade - funeral suits / v.talk me down - troye sivan / vi.i still remember - bloc party / vii.lost boy - troye sivan (cover by reid) / viii.habits - maria mena / ix.these arms - active child / x.one step ahead - a great big world / xi.lights changing colour - stars / xii.colors pt. ii - halsey / xiii.fast fast - let’s buy happiness

Comfort

A short Drabble nobody asked for about Margo and Eliot realizing they’re all in on this friendship with Quentin.

***

“You need to tell me what the problem is,” Eliot murmurs, running a hand through Quentins hair.

They’re sitting on Quentins bed, Quentin curled up in Eliots lap, head on Eliots thigh while he shakes. He hasn’t spoken in hours.

“Q,” Eliot says, leaning down, ignoring the way his spine practically screams at the angle, “I don’t know how to do the comforting thing. I can’t say what you need to hear, because I don’t know what you need. Tell me what you need. Please.”

Quentin shakes his head, pulling his knees up tighter against himself.

Somebody knocks on the door and Eliot looks up just as Margo enters, closing the door behind her quietly. She looks down at Quentin, then up at Eliot. “No change?” She asks, soft, as she makes her way across the room and climbs on the bed to sit on the other side of them, so Quentin is between her and Eliot.

“He won’t talk, or move,” Eliot mutters, taking his hand through Quentins hair again. “I don’t know what to do. This isn’t my skill set. If he wanted to get drunk or high, this would be a piece of cake.”

Margo nods, reaching down and rubbing Quentins shoulder. “I don’t think he needs us to talk, El,” she whispers, looking down at him, “I don’t think anything we say will make it better.”

“Then what the fuck are we supposed to do?”

He’s desperate. He’s never seen Quentin like this, and a small part of him knows there’s nothing they can do because this is all part of Q’s depression and sometimes he just needs to let it all swallow him whole, but it’s hard watching him like this. It’s hard knowing he’s in there, but unreachable.

“Just sit. Wait it out?”

Her free hand comes and rests on his in Quentins hair.

They both look down at him, identical looks of concern on their faces as Quentin trembles on the bed.

“How do people do this, Bambi?” Eliot asks after a few long moments.

She looks up, furrowing her brow. “Do what?”

“Care.” He looks up at her, his vision going blurry as his sinus’ sting. “It’s so fucking counterintuitive.”

She smirks softly, “hell if I know,” she murmurs, looking down at Quentin again, twirling some of his hair between her fingers. “They just do. And now,” she shrugs, “I guess we do too.”

“He’s one of us.”

She nods. “He is.” She leans down, “You hear that? You’re one of us, Q. We’re never gonna let you go, now.” Quentin doesn’t respond, but one of his hands reaches out and grabs hers, squeezing tight.