"I'm extremely handsome and very charming, and I give one of the top ten blowjobs in Ibiza. What's not to be jealous of?" Eliot asked him, laughing and pulling Quentin in closer. "I might be able to get over it for the sake of getting a chance to see just how hot we are together though," he mused playfully. "It's much classier that way than just some massive 80's style mirrors."

"Don't diminish this by making it less special," Eliot told him. Even though yes, that was true. Eliot would sing for just about any occasion, up to and including his regular odes to why Wednesdays can fuck off that he used to sing on the way to classes every other Wednesday when he was either hungover or just really, really attached to a bed someone made him get out of.

Eliot didn't notice anyone else watching him, all of his attention on Quentin in his arms. "Horrifyingly disgusting," he agreed. "But we've earned it, so ask me if I care."

He finally noticed that there was a small crowd paying attention to them, largely because one woman bumped his elbow. Eliot looked over at her, brow furrowing and then looked over to see three or four more, all of them watching him. "PDA frowned on here?" he asked, though Eliot didn't think that was their expression, it seemed more ... dreamy.