“I need a drink,” Margo groaned, and Q couldn’t shake the happiness exuding from her voice, like she had been dragged back down to Earth. Also, and probably for the first time, it was only Margo and not Eliot who needed a drink. Eliot seemed perfectly fine as Q’s eyes peeked open to find him still unconscious. At least, he thought so.
“And I need someone to get the fuck over here and bring up my body temperature already,” Eliot countered, and by someone he clearly meant Q, whom Eliot grabbed and pulled on top of him. Q wasn’t about to protest, this was Eliot making demands of him after all, but he also suspected it might be because Eliot was cool where Q still felt feverish. He was pretty soft too, enough to blur the difference between pillow and skin. Bringing that up would undoubtedly lead Q to ask what moisturizer he used, and then inevitably become self-conscious as to whether Eliot thought he needed one, which seemed unlikely since he hadn’t voiced it.
Then again, they hadn’t talked much last night, if much meant at all.
And then there was a third factor why Q couldn’t wriggle away: he was quite literally trapped between the two of them. Escape wasn’t an option even if he did want it, which he kinda didn’t.
Q ignored the fact that they were still entirely naked, the sheets nowhere in sight. It seemed an out of place thought after what the three of them had done last night, the intimacy they had shared. He vaguely remembered it, ‘cause he still wasn’t ready to provide a name, and maybe it was better that the memory wasn’t so lucid, but he did remember Eliot and Margo both giving to him and taking from him. They hadn’t used him like he thought they would, and with a satisfying feeling in his stomach he knew he hadn’t used them either. Which meant that all this, as odd as it might be and maybe should be, really just felt normal and safe and real.
He started to fall asleep again, Eliot nuzzling against his cheek, which is why he jerked when the silence was broken. “Why wasn’t I invited?” Margo murmured sleepily, as if she had never asked for a drink in the first place. Q realized why he had had a niggling feeling that something was missing, reached a hand out blindly and continued to reach until he found her. “Mmm,” she moved closer, room temperature fingers stroking up and down Q’s back in no apparent pattern. Despite his eyes still being closed, Eliot whined until she leaned down to kiss him. “You both smell amazing, like we mated for hours.”
“We did mate for hours,” Eliot pointed out. “Probably why I’m not demanding more right now. But I’ll give you a status update in ten.” He huffed when Q’s hair fell accidentally into his mouth, though by his faint smile Q suspected that it probably hadn’t been the first time since all three of them had crawled into bed together. As soon as said hair was out of his mouth and merely resting on his cheek, Eliot left it alone. That alone spoke volumes as to how Q felt: like he belonged. Not only that, but considering how many times Eliot had commented to ‘get a fucking haircut already,’ he seemed to be changing his mind.
Though it could just be what was left of the endorphins talking.
Q still had the taste of both of them in his mouth, chasing the stale taste of morning breath away. He briefly reminded himself not to get too used to this, this being the recovery process that had kept them alive, just before his mind wandered away again into sleepy oblivion.
Still recovering, still recovering, don’t get attached.
“You okay, Q?” Margo’s head collapsed face down on his back, her hair caressing his skin where her fingers once had. “You’re thinking too hard,” she protested, pinching Q’s temple until he opened his eyes and looked at… at how amazing she was. Both question and comment were the most considerate and selfless he had ever heard her utter, but that didn’t quite feel odd either.
“Oh,” Q answered, a smile quirking his lips as he relaxed under the weight of both of them. “I’m fine.”
He could only hope that would be the case the next time they were all awake and relatively lucid.