#fuckign game got me by the throat. now i just have to figure out how best to read the infinity terminals

[dragonmons]

shit work sketch durandals, still trying to figure how to draw the (weapon) rack on this dude

[forcestruck]

fuckign i just want you to know that in 2.07 when Eliot says to Margo "all the time we've been investing in his is paying off" or smth that my mind immediately went to your damn office AU

Omg, I don’t know if you mean the original concept post or the fanfic based on it that I wrote for Matty, but idk, I feel like I’ve just won an award for this.

…

… >.>

“What’s wrong, never got the hang of Thursdays?” Eliot asked in amusement as Quentin came slinking in almost shamefaced, a cardboard carrier filled with styrofoam cups balanced on one hand and a large splotch of coffee staining the front of his shirt. 

“Douglas Adams,” Quentin responded as he sat the tray of coffees down on the desk and brushed his hair back behind his ear. “Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. Hey, can I borrow a hair tie? Mine snapped.”

The last bit was said to Margo, who raised her eyes as she stopped pretending to ignore Q and opened a drawer on the desk to fish out a hair tie before obligingly handing it over. “Wow, it really has been a day for you, hasn’t it?” She asked, waiting until Quentin took the hair tie before reaching out to gently start working one of the cups of coffee free. “Did he at least win this round of your game, Eliot?”

The ‘game’ in question was something new that had recently sprung up between Quentin and Eliot, something that was more due to what certain people called ‘nerd behavior’ than any actual sort of competitiveness. Eliot would, every so often, drop some sort of sci-fi or fantasy reference and while they were generally either ignored or missed by most of their coworkers, Q had started pointing them out, responding in kind like an eager little kid trying to say ‘look, I fit in with you, I get that joke!’ until one day Eliot smirked and announced, ‘you missed that one.’

Eliot, it turns out, had a truly frightening level of awareness when it came to Patrick Swayze and Quentin, in response to that revelation, started keeping count of just how many times he caught Eliot’s references even if they weren’t directed at him. 

“I did,” Quentin assured her confidently, tying up his hair before stealing the coffee cup right from her hands and sitting it back down so he could grab the right cup for her.

“I gave you that one,” Eliot answered dismissively, coming back from a filing cabinet tucked away in the corner of the room and labeled with numbers instead of letters. In his hands was a still packaged button-up shirt that he held out for Quentin, who merely looked at it in confusion until Eliot sighed and announced in a put-upon tone, “Yes, I have a collection of men’s shirts in various sizes stored in the office. Yes, it’s necessary because some of you are fashion disasters that make my eyes want to bleed. No, I don’t actually know your size, but my mental measurements tend to be pretty damn close. Now take the shirt, hand me my coffee, and give us a show, would you?”

Margo clapped a little in response to Eliot’s decree and Quentin rolled his eyes even as he obligingly took the shirt and traded it for Eliot’s coffee. “Is this going to cost me something?” He asked, pulling the shirt out of the packaging before working on taking off his tie. “Midnight jelly doughnut runs to your apartment or something?”

“Are you offering?” Eliot asked in a tone of voice that made it sound like Quentin had suggested something dirty and Quentin jerked his eyes towards Eliot, only to blush when he realized Eliot actually was watching him undressed unabashedly.

Still seated in the desk chair with her legs hanging over one arm, Margo was doing the same thing with an expression that looked like a cat that knew it was getting the cream later. It made Quentin wonder vaguely what the requirements were for sexual harassment in the workplace and if they had rules in place for all the shit likely to cross Eliot and Margo’s minds.

Likely not, but as someone that had gotten off with a coworker in a supply closet during a party, Quentin didn’t feel like he had too much moral high ground. (Nor did a large part of the company, probably. Everyone knew that anyone who went in the copier room on the fourth floor wasn’t actually making copies. They couldn’t, the copier had been broken for going on two years and Fogg never did anything about it. Considering Fogg himself had reportedly gone into the copier room a few months ago with some board member named Bigby, chances were he didn’t care to do anything about it, either.)

“Speaking of doughnuts,” Margo finally said once Quentin was halfway finished buttoning up his borrowed shirt, not entirely surprised that it seemed like a better fit than the one he was wearing before. “Didn’t you have a lunch date with pretty little miss Quinn yesterday?”

“It wasn’t a date,” Quentin pointed out as he grabbed for his tie and felt a faint wave of hate for the object. “Why do you call her that, anyway? You know her name.”

“No reason,” Margo said with a shrug of her shoulders that wasn’t casual at all. “So how was your lunch meeting?”

“Why do you keep asking -” Quentin started, only to lose track of his sentence when Eliot stepped forward and batted his hands away.

“Here, let me,” Eliot said, handing his coffee over to Quentin before attacking the crumple of cheap material masquerading as Q’s tie, fingers quickly and expertly looping the material into a perfectly placed knot while Quentin helped himself to the drink in his hands. “Margo thinks Alice is interesting. Alice thinks Margo is a shark who smells blood in the water and Margo is a predator, but I’ve never heard anyone complain about having her eat them alive.”

“Eliot,” Margo chided without any sense of actual rebuke in her tone and Eliot turned his head to give her a fond smile as he smoothed down Quentin’s tie, stroking along his chest.

Letting the contact linger just a beat, Quentin eventually cleared his throat and stepped back, grabbing the cardboard drink tray before he said, “Thanks. For the shirt. I’ll come back and grab my other one later and get this one back to you tomorrow.”

Eliot nodded and Quentin started to back up towards the door, only to halt when Margo shouted, “Q!”

Looking back over his shoulder, he watched as Margo straightened in the chair and then betrayed her eagerness even more by leaning forward. “Help me get an opening with Alice and I’ll tell you who you got handsy with at the Halloween party.” She offered.

Quentin gave a quick shake of his head, some of his hair falling free of the tie. “I already figured that out.”

“What?” Margo said at the same time as Eliot said, “You did?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“How?” Margo demanded, annoyed that neither she nor Sunderland had known and fully planning on texting the higher up to complain about the development. 

“Did you know some people have a standing date in the copier room?” Quentin asked. “And some of those people keep a file on their phone with all their access codes and passwords? I swiped the phone and hacked my way into the security footage from the night of the party so I could see if they arrived in a car or taxi and once I found out what he drives, it was easy to figure out the rest.”

“You went through all that trouble just to identify a drunk hook-up at a party?” Eliot asked in disbelief and Quentin wondered just how many nameless people Eliot had gotten off with in his life. “You stole from a higher up to invade someone’s privacy?”

“Margo not telling bugged me,” Quentin offered in explanation. “And it’s not like I got caught. The two of you would have already heard about it if anyone knew.”

There was a look of warmth in Eliot’s eyes, a light that made Quentin feel praised, and Margo had a smile like she’d just heard the juiciest, most scandalous piece of gossip of the year. “Wow, Q.” Margo finally purred. “I don’t even know how many company policies you got away with breaking for that one.”

She reached out a hand for Eliot and he turned to her, taking her hand and squeezing it before looking back at Quentin. “Hmm, I think the time we’ve invested in him may actually pay off.” He said in undisguised fondness and Margo hummed as Quentin ducked his head and resuming his attempt at making a quick escape from the pair.