Legal Disclaimer: I own my stuff, but not the original source material. That belongs to whoever. Also, the opinions and interpretations I use here may not reflect the same in said whoever that owns the source material. Look, I'm just a poor college librarian. Suing me isn't going to get you anything but tears.
Warning: This work may be offensive to some readers. Feel free to back out if need be.
Author's Note: Did I blatantly throw fruit into a fic just to drop the nautical name of the ship? Why, yes. Yes, I did.
Submitting Info:
Stacked with: Quidditch League (Season 10); Ministry (Winter Year 1); RAVEN (2023); MC4A (Winter Year 5)
Individual Challenges: New Fandom Smell (Y); Bucket Listing; Setting Sail; Zed Era; In a Flash
Ministry Challenges: RRD [Day 13] (Quentin/Eliot)
RAVEN Challenges: Settings [141](Underground); Items [140](Tupperware); Colors [106](Peach)
Other Challenges: Zee Monthly [Day 17] (Gone)
Other MC4A Challenges: Ship (P&P)[WiBig (Fruit)]; Chim [Rick]("Louder than Words" – Tick, Tick, Boom; Life/Death; Race Bend);Fire [x3](Not Cookie Cutter); Garden [Shipper (Peaches & Plums)]; Hang [Phrase 4] (n/a); Soup [D](Dark)
Representation(s): Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh; Tattoo Artist Rendition
Primary & Secondary Bonus Challenges: Fruit Fly; Horrible Love; Suddenly Audrey; Sweetest Burn; Second Verse (Messing with Morlocks); Chorus (Wabi Sabi)
Tertiary & Generic Bonus Challenges: Share (Ameliorate); AD (Archery)
Word Count: x words
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A Promise Kept
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Quentin Coldwater felt a strange sense of destiny as he walked into the underground tattoo parlor that Julia had recommended when he had mentioned wanting to get a tattoo to celebrate getting into the graduate program at Columbia. It almost felt like a combination of dreaming and déjà vu. The handsome man behind the counter looked up and smiled at Quentin as their eyes met. Quentin smiled shyly back, feeling suddenly self-conscious and more awkward than he usually did.
He had never met this man before and yet Quentin knew him. It was like they had a bond forged through many epic battles. Something within him quivered like an eager dog. There was suddenly a scent to the air, sweet and fruity like a peach and plum cobbler. The man dropped a Tupperware container with a spoon still in it on the counter with a dull thud as he stood up. There was enough of the peach chunks left in the bowl to confirm that it was the source of the smell, nothing mystical. Quentin blinked and shook his head to shake off the strange fog that had rolled over him. He takes a few steps forward, stopping before his artist.
"Hi, I'm here for my appointment," he said, his voice hoarse like he had been shouting and barely above a whisper. "I'm Quentin—um, Coldwater. I'm Quentin Coldwater."
"Ah, yes, of course," the other man said with a wink. "We've been expecting you. I'm Eliot, the one getting the delightful honor of marking you all up. Let's get started, shall we? Have you ever gotten a tattoo before?"
Quentin shook his head as he followed Eliot to one of the portioned spaces in the back. "No, this will be my first."
"That's alright," Eliot reassured him. He smiled over his shoulder at Quentin. "I'll walk you through everything."
In short order, Eliot had presented him with a sketch of a simple dragon tattoo that could be adapted for several spots. It was meant to be done in dark colors, mostly plain black. The artist leaned close to Quentin as he pointed out the details, talking him through the whole process. He talked Quentin through all the steps, from picking the right colors to sterilizing the equipment. As he worked (just the basic outline along Quentin's back in that first session), Quentin found himself growing increasingly comfortable with the process, and with Eliot in specific.
When the session was finished, Quentin looked in the mirror, marveling at his new ink and the start of the new phase of his life. For the first time in a long time, he felt beautiful, powerful, and confident. He turned to thank his artist, but he had already disappeared towards the front.
Quentin felt like the world was dimmer just from that small distance. It was as if he was not complete without this stranger by his side. He couldn't let this opportunity slide. He couldn't lose Eliot again. It was a strange thought to have about someone he had just met, but it was there just the same. Quentin shook his head again. He took a deep breath to release the fear threatening to choke him. He could handle this. He would handle this.
After all, they had several more sessions until this tattoo was done.
It was the only thing keeping the panic at bay.