It’s not that this is new, this sitting close and Eliot being, well, so Eliot about it. Because it’s not. And neither is it new for Quentin to take a few nights, just slowly brooding to himself about life and feelings and everything in between.

But he’s been trapped in these slow spirals, circular thinking that does absolutely nothing for him and then Eliot is here, still warm and still so goddamn friendly... and that just totally does it for him. For no reason, as if Quentin’s personal kink is someone being kind.

He blinks at Eliot, just a breath away with his lips gently parted and Quentin nods to himself. Eliot is here, in bed and yeah, maybe he’s about to make a huge mistake and shot down whatever friendship they already have- but there’s also that small chance that Eliot will not turn him down, so. Why the fuck not?

“Hey, so...”

Quentin places a hand over Eliot’s, licking his lips, before he leans closer and places a kind of off-center kiss right on Eliot’s mouth.