Quentin Quire (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
xp_erverse) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
xp_logs2024-06-27 08:03 pm
xp_erverse) wrote in xp_logs2024-06-27 08:03 pm
Entry tags:
Quentin & Gabriel, Thursday evening
Q and G plan a vacation. Just two friends, nothing deeper than that.
"We could fly into Mazatlán and drive down the Pacific coast," Quentin suggested, looking up from his laptop at Gabriel sitting at the other end of the loveseat. The telepath playfully nudged the speedster with his feet resting on Gabriel's lap. "We can always end up in PV at the end of it, it's only a 6-hour drive away."
"Oh, is that all?" Gabriel raised an eyebrow, shifting to turn away from the TV and look back at Quentin. "And will we be sharing that driving, or will you be pretending you're not sure if roads work differently in Mexico?"
"Lo siento, no hablo espanol," Quentin quipped in his worst ugly American accent. "I'll be providing the essential services of repeating the GPS navigation and giving you road head, so I'll be very busy."
"Wow, all heroes really don't always wear capes." Gabriel lightly brushed the bottom of Quentin's right foot. "Anyway, PV might be better at the beginning. We can spend the rest of the week drying out and relaxing instead of undoing however many days of good will with..." He trailed off, his eyes narrowing as he began to look a little suspicious.
"Oh my god," he groaned, playfully shoving Quentin's feet off him. "Did you just try to trick me into agreeing to Puerto Vallarta?"
Quentin gay gasped. "I am shocked and appalled you would accuse me of anything underhanded like that. I'm just saying, it's your idea to do the whole off the beaten path thing, find a little pueblo or whatever in the middle of nowhere, and obviously I'm down for that with you. But I'm a city girl, I need a backup plan of civilization. Puerto Vallarta just happens to be convenient for that."
"I'm not making you go beach camping or anything," Gabriel rolled his eyes. "I know you, you know."
"I'm not such a princess that I'll wither and die outside a real city." Quentin set down his laptop and spun so he could now lay his head on Gabriel's lap. "But big city, gay resort heaven, with sleepy beach towns sandwiched between them? It's a sound plan."
Gabriel shifted, as if he might make his thighs more comfortable for Quentin somehow. "Okay, I guess, but I don't want to have one of those vacations where you come back needing to dry out for a few days, you know? Like, I want to make sure we actually relax."
"I can unplug and unclench for a few days, okay?" Quentin informed Gabriel with the snide yet affectionate tone primarily reserved for him. "Just don't expect me to be sober the entire time. I don't think I could survive that kind of withdrawal. Give me a little inebriation, as a treat."
"I didn't say we were going to be sober sisters," Gabriel said. He played idly with Quentin's hair, considering. "Fine. Puerto Vallarta at the end."
Quentin's fingers in turn gently danced along Gabriel's thigh and knee. "Fabulous, I knew you'd see things my way. Everyone always does, you just make it easy."
"Excuse you." Gabriel bounced his knee to jolt Quentin's fingers off of him. "There are plenty of times I don't relent, thank you very much. I just don't want you to be whiny all week when you don't get your way."
"You love it," Quentin mocked, sitting up again so he could reach for a kiss. It wasn't until their lips touched that he realized just what he'd said. It could have been worse; Quentin could have accused Gabriel of the worst crime. Ever since the foray into Haller's brain to save his puzzle pieces and reintegrate his psyche, Quentin's memory of realizing this unspoken crime (one which he would admit only on pain of death he was equally guilty of) had been at the forefront of his own mind. If he was not careful, he would accidentally say something they would both regret.
Gabriel let out a soft noise of pleasure at Quentin's touch. "Maybe," he said, oblivious to whatever was going through Quentin's mind. "Not my favorite sound you make."
Overthinking: the curse of being a psychic. Quentin stuffed those thoughts deep deep down with all his other repressions and forced himself to the present moment. "What is your favorite sound of mine, then?"
"Can't tell you that," Gabriel said, his fingers finding their way to Quentin's waist. "There's still daylight out. Too indecent."
"That has literally never been a problem." Quentin gracefully swung a leg over Gabriel so he could straddle the other man's lap. He gazed into Gabriel's eyes for a moment, as if searching for something, some sign that he really wasn't the only one who had just pulled himself away from a crisis. Graciously, the instinct of repression kicked in and he stopped himself again. "There is going to be stuff to eat besides like seafood and pork, right?"
"Sure. I don't think you're the first vegetarian in Mexico." Gabriel shrugged. Actually, he wasn't entirely convinced that lard wouldn't mysteriously find its way into things, and he hadn't thought about this concern until just now. It had been easy for them in Sicily; resorts catered to every customers' need. But the trip he'd convinced them to take was a bit more rough-and-tumble.
"We'll figure it out," he said, reaching for the weed pen he'd left on the table but not moving so much that Quentin had to shift. "And I know PV will have plenty of food for every circuit queen's dietary restrictions."
"We could fly into Mazatlán and drive down the Pacific coast," Quentin suggested, looking up from his laptop at Gabriel sitting at the other end of the loveseat. The telepath playfully nudged the speedster with his feet resting on Gabriel's lap. "We can always end up in PV at the end of it, it's only a 6-hour drive away."
"Oh, is that all?" Gabriel raised an eyebrow, shifting to turn away from the TV and look back at Quentin. "And will we be sharing that driving, or will you be pretending you're not sure if roads work differently in Mexico?"
"Lo siento, no hablo espanol," Quentin quipped in his worst ugly American accent. "I'll be providing the essential services of repeating the GPS navigation and giving you road head, so I'll be very busy."
"Wow, all heroes really don't always wear capes." Gabriel lightly brushed the bottom of Quentin's right foot. "Anyway, PV might be better at the beginning. We can spend the rest of the week drying out and relaxing instead of undoing however many days of good will with..." He trailed off, his eyes narrowing as he began to look a little suspicious.
"Oh my god," he groaned, playfully shoving Quentin's feet off him. "Did you just try to trick me into agreeing to Puerto Vallarta?"
Quentin gay gasped. "I am shocked and appalled you would accuse me of anything underhanded like that. I'm just saying, it's your idea to do the whole off the beaten path thing, find a little pueblo or whatever in the middle of nowhere, and obviously I'm down for that with you. But I'm a city girl, I need a backup plan of civilization. Puerto Vallarta just happens to be convenient for that."
"I'm not making you go beach camping or anything," Gabriel rolled his eyes. "I know you, you know."
"I'm not such a princess that I'll wither and die outside a real city." Quentin set down his laptop and spun so he could now lay his head on Gabriel's lap. "But big city, gay resort heaven, with sleepy beach towns sandwiched between them? It's a sound plan."
Gabriel shifted, as if he might make his thighs more comfortable for Quentin somehow. "Okay, I guess, but I don't want to have one of those vacations where you come back needing to dry out for a few days, you know? Like, I want to make sure we actually relax."
"I can unplug and unclench for a few days, okay?" Quentin informed Gabriel with the snide yet affectionate tone primarily reserved for him. "Just don't expect me to be sober the entire time. I don't think I could survive that kind of withdrawal. Give me a little inebriation, as a treat."
"I didn't say we were going to be sober sisters," Gabriel said. He played idly with Quentin's hair, considering. "Fine. Puerto Vallarta at the end."
Quentin's fingers in turn gently danced along Gabriel's thigh and knee. "Fabulous, I knew you'd see things my way. Everyone always does, you just make it easy."
"Excuse you." Gabriel bounced his knee to jolt Quentin's fingers off of him. "There are plenty of times I don't relent, thank you very much. I just don't want you to be whiny all week when you don't get your way."
"You love it," Quentin mocked, sitting up again so he could reach for a kiss. It wasn't until their lips touched that he realized just what he'd said. It could have been worse; Quentin could have accused Gabriel of the worst crime. Ever since the foray into Haller's brain to save his puzzle pieces and reintegrate his psyche, Quentin's memory of realizing this unspoken crime (one which he would admit only on pain of death he was equally guilty of) had been at the forefront of his own mind. If he was not careful, he would accidentally say something they would both regret.
Gabriel let out a soft noise of pleasure at Quentin's touch. "Maybe," he said, oblivious to whatever was going through Quentin's mind. "Not my favorite sound you make."
Overthinking: the curse of being a psychic. Quentin stuffed those thoughts deep deep down with all his other repressions and forced himself to the present moment. "What is your favorite sound of mine, then?"
"Can't tell you that," Gabriel said, his fingers finding their way to Quentin's waist. "There's still daylight out. Too indecent."
"That has literally never been a problem." Quentin gracefully swung a leg over Gabriel so he could straddle the other man's lap. He gazed into Gabriel's eyes for a moment, as if searching for something, some sign that he really wasn't the only one who had just pulled himself away from a crisis. Graciously, the instinct of repression kicked in and he stopped himself again. "There is going to be stuff to eat besides like seafood and pork, right?"
"Sure. I don't think you're the first vegetarian in Mexico." Gabriel shrugged. Actually, he wasn't entirely convinced that lard wouldn't mysteriously find its way into things, and he hadn't thought about this concern until just now. It had been easy for them in Sicily; resorts catered to every customers' need. But the trip he'd convinced them to take was a bit more rough-and-tumble.
"We'll figure it out," he said, reaching for the weed pen he'd left on the table but not moving so much that Quentin had to shift. "And I know PV will have plenty of food for every circuit queen's dietary restrictions."