[No, look, okay, he'll get back to roasting Julian for being a loser in a second. Right now he's falling for obvious bait defending his honor! Quentin puts a hand on his chest in an offended gesture.]
I said you were hot like twice. All this other crap has been you weirdly bringing that up whenever you want to win an argument or some shit.
[Like right now. Whatever. Quentin curls his lip snidely and turns back to poutsulk oh who are we kidding, he's pouting.]
Besides, we both know I'm the better catch, so really you should be flattered I've even considered it.
You're actively talking about considering fucking me, dude. And calling me hot. I don't know how much more obvious you can get? Like it's right there.
( right there, as in - while quentin's putting his hand over his chest and looking aghast, julian is pointing right towards that same hand with one of his own. look. clearly he can just see the UST rolling right off of him. )
And literally no one thinks you're the better catch between the both of us.
[Quentin's eyes instinctively follow the path of Julian's pointing finger to his own chest as if there's some sort of traitorous sign there, which of course there isn't. He looks up with a glower and attempts to swat away the metal hand.]
Don't be obtuse. Considering isn't the same as "two seconds flat," and come on, you have to know I'm a better lay than you. I mean, talk about shit that's obvious.
( good luck swatting metal, quentin. he's got no plans to move it so despite the swatting, the hand - stays pretty much right where it was. because this is important. )
Not everyone wants a telepath in their head while they're getting laid. Just because you can read their thoughts to gleam what feels good doesn't make you better.
[Stupid metal floating stupid hand. Quentin glares at it for good measure, but gives up on trying to remove it. Instead he spreads his arms in exasperated confusion because what the hell even is Keller talking about??]
Oh, right, my bad, it's such a hard choice between "literally in your head" and metal hands McGee! Some real stiff competish there! Are you for real right now? And who the hell complains about the person fucking them knowing when they feel good? No wonder you don't get laid.
( to be fair to quentin, they've talked about some of julian's own insecurities when they were both being stupid at one another before. and he isn't even close to wrong about how julian feels about them most the time. unfortunately, he's now brought it up as if it's a shortcoming on julian's part to julian's face which means julian now has to get overly defensive over the thing he is actually a little insecure about. )
Maybe you should've paid closer attention during telekinesis lessons, idiot, because I don't need hands to do this. ( doesn't even need to move any closer to quentin, really. the metal hand stays where it's at, too, but there's the sensation of something very hand-like that wraps tight around quentin's forearm, while that same telekinetic aura wraps tight around the front of quentin's shirt, gripping on tight with full intention of throwing him straight off the rooftop they've been sitting on quietly up until now - well. for the most part. )
Well, on the bright side, Julian usually doesn't give Quentin this much warning. He's typically more of the "senseless violence first, talk later" type. Which means this time when he feels that telekinetic hand wrapping around his arm, he knows what's coming and isn't taken completely by surprise when Keller attempts to unceremoniously chuck him off the roof.]
Hey, wait—no, nope, nonono—fuck—
[Quentin doesn't flex his TK nearly as much as Keller, but he's no slouch in that department either. He gets dragged to the edge of the roof, the front of his shirt and arm leaning heavily in that direction while the rest of him braces, but fuck if he's not going to resist with all of his above average telekinetic muscle going over. Not because he'd actually fall, obviously. It's just, you know. The indignity.]
Fine, Jesus, I'm sure you're perfectly satisfactory in the sack, okay? All the ladies are so hot for your ultra sexy TK bullshit or whatever. Fucking hell, dude!
( he could push harder, but the intention here is less to actually get quentin off the roof and more to get him to shut up, which - this is working just fine for him already. so julian isn't pushing hard enough to force quentin to overcompensate, just hard enough to keep him on his toes. )
Who the hell needs hands to get someone off anyway? Especially ladies. I've got a mouth, asshole. Why are we even talking about this? Jesus.
( why is he overcompensating by mentioning that he doesn't need hands when he's also actively using psuedohands to semi-shove quentin towards the edge of the roof. why are they like this. and why does quentin's presence make him act even more stupid? christ. )
I'm not talking about it, you're talking about it!
[Okay, technically they're both talking about... whatever the fuck this is. But still. Quentin's a little distracted at the moment trying not to get pushed off a roof. Give him a break, okay??]
Yeah, yeah, you're very handsome and a generous lover clearly, but quick question: who gives a shit? Why the hell's it so goddamn important to you that I know what a great fuck you are, anyway? And for that matter, why do you care whether or not I would fuck you?? Last time I checked you were all aboard the "no homo" train, choo choo motherfucker.
You're the one who started giving me shit about being a better lay than me! I don't know?!
( he's yelling but also sounds very unsure about why he's yelling which is really just shitty all the way around. but he does stop trying to shove quentin off the rooftop, albeit suddenly and all at once letting up the pressure so it's just - one moment he's getting shoved, the next there's nothing even close to him. )
And you brought up that I won't get laid! Like, all of this started with you? Why the hell are you coming at it like I started it!?
[The telekinetic pressure abruptly stops, and Quentin's arm and shirt drop, but thankfully he doesn't. He does sit back with a soft "oof", though. Good. Great. An improvement. Probably. He eyes Julian moodily.]
I said you won't get laid because you won't. By choice. You're addicted to being miserable, you sad sack. Got jack shit to do with any of your "capabilities" or lack thereof, as the case may be. What I don't understand is you insisting on dragging me in your stupid pity party—like, oh, I clearly want in your pants soooo badly I shall perish from a broken heart! Alas, if only you came down from your goddamn throne of heterosexuality to grace me with your presence. Give me a fucking break.
because one: he knows he didn't bring it up. he did not start this! quentin did. quentin always starts it then manages to loop it back around like it was julian all along and julian fucking hates it. why is he such a dick? does he do this on purpose? stupid question, of course it's on purpose. of course he's doing this to fuck with him. but what the hell is the point of fucking with him like this? )
You're an ass. ( stating the obvious will clearly help him. anyway - with a click of his tongue, julian's pulling himself up to his feet, and - stepping off the ledge of the rooftop onto a green platform. ) And I know what you're doing, so don't play stupid!
[The insult is unsurprising. He is an ass. Unrepentantly. Always and forever. Why Julian is saying right now it is another thing entirely and—wait, is he? Is he leaving?]
Huh...?
[He is! What a—um. Hm. What insult works for this? Coward? Jerk? Dullard? Whatever. Quentin scrambles to his feet to, uh. Point accusingly—if somewhat uncertainly—at Keller.]
Bullshit! If I don't know what I'm doing, how the fuck would you know, huh? Ha! Checkmate!
( now they're back to the pointing game. okay. fine! he can play that. from his own little platform just enough distance away from the roof that he can't quite reach quentin or jump over to him without having to fly over, but he's definitely pointing back. threateningly! and menacingly! here they are, doing the pointing bit! )
Or maybe that's part of it, huh?! You're playing stupid on purpose! What happened to being an egotistical genius!
Why the hell would I play stupid on purpose, dipshit? I literally just said I—
[Hang on. Quentin stops mid-sentence, the record scratch in his head almost audible. Downside of having a brain that moves so fast: sometimes his thoughts get so far ahead that it takes a minute for the rest of him to catch up.
His eyes go to his still-pointing finger, then to Julian's, then his face, then back to his own hand, visibly computing... something.]
I don't know—what—
[His voice is softer, almost like he's just thinking out loud, and his brow furrows in concern.
And then whatever was computing in there finishes. Quentin drops his hand, his posture immediately shifting to something looser. Casual. Unbothered. He shrugs with both arms and steps back from the edge of the roof, glancing around as if choosing a direction to make his exit.]
Whatever, ain't important. Good talk, though. Try not to die out there.
( the change is too obvious to not notice it. the way he goes from as irritated as julian feels to - something lighter. easier. almost like it's intentional, like he's trying to come off like he's not bothered.
is that it? julian bets that's it. his eyes narrow, hand dropping down so he can cross both arms over his chest and just - )
[It slips out, tone a little too sharp. He pauses for a beat, glancing at Julian without moving his head, and tries again. Nonchalant this time. He idly inspects his fingernails for a moment.]
Look, the conversation wasn't going anywhere. Outlived its usefulness, so I'm putting it out of both of our miseries. You're welcome.
[He looks over and makes a loose shooing gesture.]
( he wants to argue with quentin because he knows this idiot is hiding something. that little outburst makes it more than obvious, because it isn't like him to try and cover it. meaning it was an accident.
unless he's intentionally trying to get julian to dig his heels in and push back by doing something that sounds obviously like he wouldn't do it.
jesus. see? this is why he hates quentin. the asshole makes him stand here and think and julian doesn't like it. )
Fine. Whatever. Suit yourself. ( because he's raising a hand in a halfassed wave and lowering himself down and away from the rooftop, thank you. )
[Quentin doesn't react other than to return the half-assed wave.
Nice going, Quire. Keller's leaving, and why is that? Duh, because you told him to. Oh, what, did you think he was going to dig in his heels and do his whole stubborn "no I'm going to take care of you because I have a pathological need to take responsibility for everything and everyone" routine? Well... kinda. But on the other hand they literally just had a conversation about how Julian needs to let go, and that's what he's doing. Letting go. As, well. As he should, honestly. Not like it's Keller's fault Quentin's a fucking basketcase who pushed away the one person he can actually talk to in this hellhole just like he pushes everyone away. Because nobody can abandon you if you get rid of them first, right? Jesus, and he called Julian lonely and miserable. Look in the fuckin' mirror, buddy. Look in the mirror and for fuck's sake get your shit together and grow the hell up.
.... Fine. Christ. Being a halfway functional person sucks, but he'll do it. He guesses. Quentin sullenly hops off the roof and drops until he can hover a few feet away from Julian.]
Wait. Fuck. Okay. [He makes a face and runs his hand through his hair uncomfortably.]
Okay. Well. First? If you breathe one single word of this, I will make sure you smell nothing but rancid socks for five months. At least. Or whenever it stops being funny for me. Got it?
( he's half gone, already done with this conversation and ready to move on with his life because dealing with quentin quire for even two seconds longer is going to give him a massive headache that he just does not want to deal with, how is this asshole this annoying?
except the asshole follows after him and opens his mouth again and julian - stupidly, for reasons unknown to him, rolls his eyes and widens the platform he's standing on to make it large enough for two regardless of what quire decides to do, arms crossing over his chest.
if he looks annoyed it's because he is. but that's unsurprising. quentin always manages to find some way to piss him off. is it a secondary mutation? julian bets it is. )
I can keep a secret when someone tells me it's supposed to be one.
[Hang on, that's his response to this??? A bunch of obviously untrue bullshit???? What an absolute gobshite of a—
No. No. Deep breath, count to ten, all that crap. Quentin stares at Julian in irritated shock for a moment and then collects himself. Sort of. He eyes the expanded platform but doesn't take the offer, staying right where he is. For now, at least. Oh, and he waves away that stupid thing Keller said with an obligatory eye roll. Moving on.]
Right, well, anyway.
[He takes in a sharp breath through his nose and lets it out in a huff that's only a little bit shaky. Good enough.]
That night. In the kitchen, yeah? Something... changed. For me, I mean. 'Cause before it was like, well, face ain't bad to look at I guess but. Eh. [He looks Julian up and down briefly and shrugs.] And then suddenly it was—well, look, I knew, but shit's never really come up before with a guy who wasn't, like. Super not my type, okay? It's not like with a girl. But then I started hooking up with Sophie, and then you disappeared, and none of this was supposed to fucking matter due to, oh, approximately eighteen thousand reasons, not least of which—you're straight. And why should I waste my precious time thinking about anybody who doesn't even swing my way, you know? But then this crap keeps happening, and it's like, well does it matter or not? You feel me? Picking up what I'm putting down? No? Yes?
[He sighs, and his posture deflates a little, shoulders hunching as he finally lands on the edge of Julian's stupid little platform and shoves his hands in pockets.]
I told you, I'm not playing stupid. You say you know what I'm doing, so how about you share with the class? Because, dude, I haven't the foggiest.
( his face isn't bad to look at? seriously? that's it? he's about to get real offended over how stupid of a comment that is because, first off, rude. do you know how hard he works to maintain the rest of his physique? how much work and effort goes into these abs? does this asshole know how hard it is to get good muscle definition when he doesn't have hands?
obviously he doesn't because he's still talking and julian's only really half paying attention because who the fuck thinks his face is maybe okay to look at but that's it?
except he remembers this conversation is really only a little about julian's own ego and quentin is still talking so julian - takes a few moments to process that all, really, because half listening really isn't doing him any favors here. )
I told you, man, you're obviously flirting with me. Anyone with eyes can see that. ( maybe it's just julian who sees it because he's julian. ) You keep bringing up shit like me not getting laid like - what, do you want me to fuck you? 'cause that's how it sounds to me.
[Wait is that—is that his only reaction? Just some braindead "hurr hurr you want me" bullshit? The same old crap??? Quentin had a whole stupid be a grownup thing, chased him down, poured out his goddamn little heart. And he gets this???? Unbelievable. Un-fucking-believable.
Quentin stares at Julian in incredulous shock for a second or two. Is his eye twitching? It might be twitching. And then he McFuckin Loses It, spreading his arms emphatically as once again, the Yelling begins.]
Okay, you know what? Sure. Yeah! Would I fuck you? Probably! And I'd knock your goddamn socks off, you stupid piece of shit. But it's not gonna happen! And you know why? Because you'd rather be a lonely miserable bastard than enjoy something for fucking once! Oh, and me? I just get the ole one-two "I know you're into me but don't forget you're not my type and never will be" punch to the dick. A classic, truly! Love that for me. Well, fuck you, dude. And not like that.
[He folds his arms irritably, finally done with his rant.
... Except wait no he has one more thing, curling his lip snidely as he delivers his final biting remark.]
Also. I haven't even begun to "flirt" with you, so maybe jot that down. Jerk.
( once again quentin just goes off and julian's really only half listening after the first. . five? six words that come out of his mouth because he already knows it's just quentin running his stupid mouth again over stupid shit that no one really cares about because he just - he does that. constantly. julian doesn't know how the hell the guy manages to tolerate himself with how much he refuses to shut up. like it'd be one thing if he had anything actually important to say but since when has quentin quire ever had that?
something something i'd fuck you something competitive in there about some bullshit about how he'd, what, show julian up? fat chance of that. blah blah blah, you're miserable and you refuse to not be miserable, which just sounds like the same shit he's already said. god. whatever. )
You know what'd be a great way to start? Learn to shut up, dude.
( somewhere between now and five second ago he's already committed to the idea in his head so it's too late to go back now and quentin's already down on his level so it takes less than two seconds to shove a forearm up against the fucking nerd's chest, pushing him back up against the building wall julian's platform is resting close to, and just - leans right into quentin quire's personal space like it's his to shove his mouth against quire's own in what's maybe a kiss but definitely an attempt to get him to shut up. )
[Oh great, is what goes through Quentin's brain when he sees Keller moving toward him, this shit again. Always a little too fast for Quentin's subpar reaction time, which he knows is annoying, shoving him, getting all in his personal space, crowding him against walls and shit just because he's got a little more muscle, and Quentin is too damn nice to use telepathy on the bastard. He's all set to bitch at him about the manhandling again except wait, hold on, his face is getting way closer than usual—is he—what—
?????????????????????????????????????
Okay, fine. Shutting Quentin Quire up achieved. Congratu-fucking-lations, Keller. And be grateful he does you the favor of not continuing to yap telepathically, asshole, because he totally could!! He is, however, going to make damn sure there's no "maybe" about this kiss, returning it fiercely. And he's gonna cram his fingers into Julian's stupid hair and curl them nice and tight. Just for good measure. It's been a while since Sophie cut it too, so perfect length to get a solid grip in there. Look, if Keller gets cold feet after pulling this shit, he deserves to get some clumps yanked out.]
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[No, look, okay, he'll get back to roasting Julian for being a loser in a second. Right now he's
falling for obvious baitdefending his honor! Quentin puts a hand on his chest in an offended gesture.]I said you were hot like twice. All this other crap has been you weirdly bringing that up whenever you want to win an argument or some shit.
[Like right now. Whatever. Quentin curls his lip snidely and turns back to
poutsulkoh who are we kidding, he's pouting.]Besides, we both know I'm the better catch, so really you should be flattered I've even considered it.
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( right there, as in - while quentin's putting his hand over his chest and looking aghast, julian is pointing right towards that same hand with one of his own. look. clearly he can just see the UST rolling right off of him. )
And literally no one thinks you're the better catch between the both of us.
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Don't be obtuse. Considering isn't the same as "two seconds flat," and come on, you have to know I'm a better lay than you. I mean, talk about shit that's obvious.
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Not everyone wants a telepath in their head while they're getting laid. Just because you can read their thoughts to gleam what feels good doesn't make you better.
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Oh, right, my bad, it's such a hard choice between "literally in your head" and metal hands McGee! Some real stiff competish there! Are you for real right now? And who the hell complains about the person fucking them knowing when they feel good? No wonder you don't get laid.
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( to be fair to quentin, they've talked about some of julian's own insecurities when they were both being stupid at one another before. and he isn't even close to wrong about how julian feels about them most the time. unfortunately, he's now brought it up as if it's a shortcoming on julian's part to julian's face which means julian now has to get overly defensive over the thing he is actually a little insecure about. )
Maybe you should've paid closer attention during telekinesis lessons, idiot, because I don't need hands to do this. ( doesn't even need to move any closer to quentin, really. the metal hand stays where it's at, too, but there's the sensation of something very hand-like that wraps tight around quentin's forearm, while that same telekinetic aura wraps tight around the front of quentin's shirt, gripping on tight with full intention of throwing him straight off the rooftop they've been sitting on quietly up until now - well. for the most part. )
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Well, on the bright side, Julian usually doesn't give Quentin this much warning. He's typically more of the "senseless violence first, talk later" type. Which means this time when he feels that telekinetic hand wrapping around his arm, he knows what's coming and isn't taken completely by surprise when Keller attempts to unceremoniously chuck him off the roof.]
Hey, wait—no, nope, nonono—fuck—
[Quentin doesn't flex his TK nearly as much as Keller, but he's no slouch in that department either. He gets dragged to the edge of the roof, the front of his shirt and arm leaning heavily in that direction while the rest of him braces, but fuck if he's not going to resist with all of his above average telekinetic muscle going over. Not because he'd actually fall, obviously. It's just, you know. The indignity.]
Fine, Jesus, I'm sure you're perfectly satisfactory in the sack, okay? All the ladies are so hot for your ultra sexy TK bullshit or whatever. Fucking hell, dude!
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Who the hell needs hands to get someone off anyway? Especially ladies. I've got a mouth, asshole. Why are we even talking about this? Jesus.
( why is he overcompensating by mentioning that he doesn't need hands when he's also actively using psuedohands to semi-shove quentin towards the edge of the roof. why are they like this. and why does quentin's presence make him act even more stupid? christ. )
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[Okay, technically they're both talking about... whatever the fuck this is. But still. Quentin's a little distracted at the moment trying not to get pushed off a roof. Give him a break, okay??]
Yeah, yeah, you're very handsome and a generous lover clearly, but quick question: who gives a shit? Why the hell's it so goddamn important to you that I know what a great fuck you are, anyway? And for that matter, why do you care whether or not I would fuck you?? Last time I checked you were all aboard the "no homo" train, choo choo motherfucker.
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( he's yelling but also sounds very unsure about why he's yelling which is really just shitty all the way around. but he does stop trying to shove quentin off the rooftop, albeit suddenly and all at once letting up the pressure so it's just - one moment he's getting shoved, the next there's nothing even close to him. )
And you brought up that I won't get laid! Like, all of this started with you? Why the hell are you coming at it like I started it!?
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I said you won't get laid because you won't. By choice. You're addicted to being miserable, you sad sack. Got jack shit to do with any of your "capabilities" or lack thereof, as the case may be. What I don't understand is you insisting on dragging me in your stupid pity party—like, oh, I clearly want in your pants soooo badly I shall perish from a broken heart! Alas, if only you came down from your goddamn throne of heterosexuality to grace me with your presence. Give me a fucking break.
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because one: he knows he didn't bring it up. he did not start this! quentin did. quentin always starts it then manages to loop it back around like it was julian all along and julian fucking hates it. why is he such a dick? does he do this on purpose? stupid question, of course it's on purpose. of course he's doing this to fuck with him. but what the hell is the point of fucking with him like this? )
You're an ass. ( stating the obvious will clearly help him. anyway - with a click of his tongue, julian's pulling himself up to his feet, and - stepping off the ledge of the rooftop onto a green platform. ) And I know what you're doing, so don't play stupid!
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Huh...?
[He is! What a—um. Hm. What insult works for this? Coward? Jerk? Dullard? Whatever. Quentin scrambles to his feet to, uh. Point accusingly—if somewhat uncertainly—at Keller.]
Bullshit! If I don't know what I'm doing, how the fuck would you know, huh? Ha! Checkmate!
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( now they're back to the pointing game. okay. fine! he can play that. from his own little platform just enough distance away from the roof that he can't quite reach quentin or jump over to him without having to fly over, but he's definitely pointing back. threateningly! and menacingly! here they are, doing the pointing bit! )
Or maybe that's part of it, huh?! You're playing stupid on purpose! What happened to being an egotistical genius!
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[Hang on. Quentin stops mid-sentence, the record scratch in his head almost audible. Downside of having a brain that moves so fast: sometimes his thoughts get so far ahead that it takes a minute for the rest of him to catch up.
His eyes go to his still-pointing finger, then to Julian's, then his face, then back to his own hand, visibly computing... something.]
I don't know—what—
[His voice is softer, almost like he's just thinking out loud, and his brow furrows in concern.
And then whatever was computing in there finishes. Quentin drops his hand, his posture immediately shifting to something looser. Casual. Unbothered. He shrugs with both arms and steps back from the edge of the roof, glancing around as if choosing a direction to make his exit.]
Whatever, ain't important. Good talk, though. Try not to die out there.
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is that it? julian bets that's it. his eyes narrow, hand dropping down so he can cross both arms over his chest and just - )
See? Playing stupid again. What is it?
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[It slips out, tone a little too sharp. He pauses for a beat, glancing at Julian without moving his head, and tries again. Nonchalant this time. He idly inspects his fingernails for a moment.]
Look, the conversation wasn't going anywhere. Outlived its usefulness, so I'm putting it out of both of our miseries. You're welcome.
[He looks over and makes a loose shooing gesture.]
If you wanna go, you can. Nobody's stoppin' ya.
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unless he's intentionally trying to get julian to dig his heels in and push back by doing something that sounds obviously like he wouldn't do it.
jesus. see? this is why he hates quentin. the asshole makes him stand here and think and julian doesn't like it. )
Fine. Whatever. Suit yourself. ( because he's raising a hand in a halfassed wave and lowering himself down and away from the rooftop, thank you. )
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Nice going, Quire. Keller's leaving, and why is that? Duh, because you told him to. Oh, what, did you think he was going to dig in his heels and do his whole stubborn "no I'm going to take care of you because I have a pathological need to take responsibility for everything and everyone" routine? Well... kinda. But on the other hand they literally just had a conversation about how Julian needs to let go, and that's what he's doing. Letting go. As, well. As he should, honestly. Not like it's Keller's fault Quentin's a fucking basketcase who pushed away the one person he can actually talk to in this hellhole just like he pushes everyone away. Because nobody can abandon you if you get rid of them first, right? Jesus, and he called Julian lonely and miserable. Look in the fuckin' mirror, buddy. Look in the mirror and for fuck's sake get your shit together and grow the hell up.
.... Fine. Christ. Being a halfway functional person sucks, but he'll do it. He guesses. Quentin sullenly hops off the roof and drops until he can hover a few feet away from Julian.]
Wait. Fuck. Okay. [He makes a face and runs his hand through his hair uncomfortably.]
Okay. Well. First? If you breathe one single word of this, I will make sure you smell nothing but rancid socks for five months. At least. Or whenever it stops being funny for me. Got it?
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except the asshole follows after him and opens his mouth again and julian - stupidly, for reasons unknown to him, rolls his eyes and widens the platform he's standing on to make it large enough for two regardless of what quire decides to do, arms crossing over his chest.
if he looks annoyed it's because he is. but that's unsurprising. quentin always manages to find some way to piss him off. is it a secondary mutation? julian bets it is. )
I can keep a secret when someone tells me it's supposed to be one.
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No. No. Deep breath, count to ten, all that crap. Quentin stares at Julian in irritated shock for a moment and then collects himself. Sort of. He eyes the expanded platform but doesn't take the offer, staying right where he is. For now, at least. Oh, and he waves away that stupid thing Keller said with an obligatory eye roll. Moving on.]
Right, well, anyway.
[He takes in a sharp breath through his nose and lets it out in a huff that's only a little bit shaky. Good enough.]
That night. In the kitchen, yeah? Something... changed. For me, I mean. 'Cause before it was like, well, face ain't bad to look at I guess but. Eh. [He looks Julian up and down briefly and shrugs.] And then suddenly it was—well, look, I knew, but shit's never really come up before with a guy who wasn't, like. Super not my type, okay? It's not like with a girl. But then I started hooking up with Sophie, and then you disappeared, and none of this was supposed to fucking matter due to, oh, approximately eighteen thousand reasons, not least of which—you're straight. And why should I waste my precious time thinking about anybody who doesn't even swing my way, you know? But then this crap keeps happening, and it's like, well does it matter or not? You feel me? Picking up what I'm putting down? No? Yes?
[He sighs, and his posture deflates a little, shoulders hunching as he finally lands on the edge of Julian's stupid little platform and shoves his hands in pockets.]
I told you, I'm not playing stupid. You say you know what I'm doing, so how about you share with the class? Because, dude, I haven't the foggiest.
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obviously he doesn't because he's still talking and julian's only really half paying attention because who the fuck thinks his face is maybe okay to look at but that's it?
except he remembers this conversation is really only a little about julian's own ego and quentin is still talking so julian - takes a few moments to process that all, really, because half listening really isn't doing him any favors here. )
I told you, man, you're obviously flirting with me. Anyone with eyes can see that. ( maybe it's just julian who sees it because he's julian. ) You keep bringing up shit like me not getting laid like - what, do you want me to fuck you? 'cause that's how it sounds to me.
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Quentin stares at Julian in incredulous shock for a second or two. Is his eye twitching? It might be twitching. And then he McFuckin Loses It, spreading his arms emphatically as once again, the Yelling begins.]
Okay, you know what? Sure. Yeah! Would I fuck you? Probably! And I'd knock your goddamn socks off, you stupid piece of shit. But it's not gonna happen! And you know why? Because you'd rather be a lonely miserable bastard than enjoy something for fucking once! Oh, and me? I just get the ole one-two "I know you're into me but don't forget you're not my type and never will be" punch to the dick. A classic, truly! Love that for me. Well, fuck you, dude. And not like that.
[He folds his arms irritably, finally done with his rant.
... Except wait no he has one more thing, curling his lip snidely as he delivers his final biting remark.]
Also. I haven't even begun to "flirt" with you, so maybe jot that down. Jerk.
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something something i'd fuck you something competitive in there about some bullshit about how he'd, what, show julian up? fat chance of that. blah blah blah, you're miserable and you refuse to not be miserable, which just sounds like the same shit he's already said. god. whatever. )
You know what'd be a great way to start? Learn to shut up, dude.
( somewhere between now and five second ago he's already committed to the idea in his head so it's too late to go back now and quentin's already down on his level so it takes less than two seconds to shove a forearm up against the fucking nerd's chest, pushing him back up against the building wall julian's platform is resting close to, and just - leans right into quentin quire's personal space like it's his to shove his mouth against quire's own in what's maybe a kiss but definitely an attempt to get him to shut up. )
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?????????????????????????????????????
Okay, fine. Shutting Quentin Quire up achieved. Congratu-fucking-lations, Keller. And be grateful he does you the favor of not continuing to yap telepathically, asshole, because he totally could!! He is, however, going to make damn sure there's no "maybe" about this kiss, returning it fiercely. And he's gonna cram his fingers into Julian's stupid hair and curl them nice and tight. Just for good measure. It's been a while since Sophie cut it too, so perfect length to get a solid grip in there. Look, if Keller gets cold feet after pulling this shit, he deserves to get some clumps yanked out.]
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