#pennice

"Mav"

"Fine just help me they won't leave me alone! They keep asking questions and trying to touch my arms or chest!"

"And you decide to lean over and show off that delectable ass of yours to.....dissuade them?"

Mav grimaceed and quickly hopped over the edge of the tub to sit between them

Penny lowered her shades to observe the group, now admiring Petes arms as he flexes them around her and Toms shoulders. She casually noted that they won't go without a fight and bites back a vicious smirk. She told Pete as much who groaned and shook his head in disbelief.

"How the hell am I supposed to get them to leave me alon-"

Tom reacheed over, gently grabbed Petes chin and turned his head to face his way before leaning down to plunder the shorter man's mouth thoroughly. Pete made a small choked noise before relaxing into the blondes chest, his hand coming up to card through Toms hair and hold him close. His other hand caresseed Penny's shoulder and hair, always so considerate to include her.

She smileed fondly before slipping in behind Pete and looping her arms around his bare waist. Pressed up against his warm back she had full leverage to gently sway Pete up and onto Ices lap, his legs automatically spread wide to wrap around their blondes hips.

Penny followed closely, still pressed to Petes back and feeling every shudder that went through their poor aroused menaces' body. Payback for last January she smirked with fondness. (A/N: see end of fic for poll💛💛)

From her vantage point she could see the unwanted groupies over Petes shoulder, whispering and blushing with dark eyes at her men. Absolutely not.

As soon as Tom finally pulled back from Petes gorgeous mouth and body, with that famous iceman restraint she has to admire, he met Pennys eyes over his shoulder. Mav collapsed forward bonelessly and panted into Toms neck, whining faintly, but Penny just gave Ice a look. Their display wasn't quite enough.

'In fact', Penny thought wryly 'maybe Tom's approach did not put them off at all and only interested them more'.

But now in both her handsome men. Unacceptable.

Tom nodded and coaxed Pete to ease away from his neck and rest back on Penny.

Her turn.

Unfocused dark green eyes hazily met hers, still high on the endorphins of kissing Tom. His eyes were nearly completely blown and were heavy and half-shut. Penny smiled gently at him, full of love and fondness for their dark haired idiot and he gave his usual responding dopy and happy grin back, still a little hazy but more with it.

"Still good Pete??" she asked to makes sure.

"Soo good Pen, luv you both soo much" he slurred slightly, sappy smile still in place.

"Love you too sweetheart", she murmured against his lips as she lean in, knowing exactly how much the term of endearment gets him.

And sure enough, as her lips brush his, he melted back into it, his torso arched perfectly with his thighs still wrapped around Toms lap, meeting her lips and offering Ice a great view.

As she suckled on his lower lip before gently worrying it between her teeth, she slitted her eyes open to check in on the nuisances that caused their little impromptu session, only to find an empty space where the hyenas, sorry, people had once massed. A quick dart around showed many eyes watching them with barely concealed lust and envy.

Too bad. No one could get between them.

Ice met her triumphant gaze with a smirk of his own, as ge watched the two loves of his life together with his dark and hungry blue eyes.

After thoroughly enjoying her kiss she slowly pulled back, Pete swayed to follow her on instinct. Ice smiled conspiratorial with Penny again, as their beloved hotshot cooled down from their abrupt claim.

She smiled back and leaned in to softly kiss Tom, pressing Mav between them in a sandwich hug. Once again Pete leaned down into Ices chest and sighed happily at the affection and cuddles from both sides, smiling the whole time

Penny smiled victoriously into the kiss. One soft and relaxed Pete, and one smug and happy Tom. The perfect start to her holiday.

(All of this to 'talk that talk' by Rhianna)

Plover, Quentin, Penny and Alice travel to Fillory. Penny barely talks to her, barely talks to anyone, but he’s still there, doing what must be done. As is she. She tries to talk Quentin into believing in magic, in Fillory, in himself, the way she talked herself into it the night before. There’s truth to her words, she’s tired of lying, she does believe that the world can be seen through new eyes as adults—unfortunately it doesn’t apply to her and Quentin. Not anymore.

Quentin makes the flower bloom, and they get the antidote.

It’s the only thing that goes according to plan.

The Secret Sea has been dessicated, the magic in the water that they need to stop everything is no longer available to them. They expel the Monster’s Sister out of Julia’s body, but she’s in agonizing pain in the hospital. And Quentin and Alice use the device in Fogg’s desk to slow down the Sister. They get some respite from the Monster and its Sister, and it’s horrible. Margo is raging. Julia is a non-magician human, without choosing it. Alice still hasn’t talked to either Quentin or Penny. Josh is back to his usual self. Fen is gone. Everett wants to be a God. The only silver lining is that Kady is no longer suicidal.

A mixed bag, or simply another day in the life of the magically gifted and emotionally challenged.

The day to themselves is enough to form a plan. Quentin and Josh figure out the element of surprise, and as a ensemble they settle on cooperative magic as their attack. A spell performed by any ambient-user across the worlds to fuel enough magic to do the Bond. It’s an ambitious operation, unheard of at this level, and although extremely risky, it’s one worth exploring. Alice never backs down because of the warning signs, she’s accepted that by now.  

Everything’s set up, everyone knows their marks. But there’s still some unfinished business. Alice catches a glimpse of Penny, seated beside Julia, who is out of the running, and he’s comforting her. Their eyes meet for a second, and Penny ignores Alice. Heat rises in her cheeks. She hopes she hasn’t pushed him into Julia’s arms.

She walks up to Quentin, he lingers by the staircase, and they discuss who should throw the bottles in the Seam and save the day. Alice is reluctant to let him be the one, but she gives in. “We've tried the whole saving each other thing with mixed result. I’ve—I’ve been thinking about what works best, and I think—No, I know we are best when we’re a team.”

“If nothing else, I like the sound of it,” Quentin says with a smile.

“Because it’s true,” Alice says, then takes a deep breath. “But I don’t think it should be in a romantic capacity.”

“What? I thought we were trying? What about the other day?”

She rubs the palms of her hands on her knees, they’ve become sweaty. “You’ve been focused on Eliot… and I’ve started shifting my attention too.”

“To fucking Penny?” Quentin chuckles, and she’s certain he doesn’t mean it literally, but… “Wait, you’re fucking Penny?” Quentin gets off the stairs, startled, and walks into the other room, away from Julia and Penny.

“I’m sorry, Quentin.” Alice sniffles and follows him, her arms wrap around herself for comfort. All the guilt, and shame, and pain she’s been holding on to, she can finally be free. “I didn’t mean for everything to get this complicated.”

“What the—what the hell, Alice,” he sputters. All the color is drained from his face, and the corner of his eyes crinkle with sorrow. “I can’t believe you would do that to me. Both 40 and 23.”

“It wasn’t about you, okay.” Alice frowns, bitterness on her tongue. “It was about what I needed, someone who was there for me, someone who cared about me.”

Quentin flinches. “I care.”

“Really? Because every word out of your mouth has been about Eliot.”

“He’s possessed!” His arms sweep to his head, and they’re not listening to each other. He’s not listening to her. He hasn’t been for so long.

Alice sighs to herself, her fingers tapping against the side of her hip. “He is, and it’s awful. But I’m not. I’m still here. We’re all still here, having to live out our lives, and deal with each other. And you might’ve showed up, but you never checked in. You weren’t there, Quentin.”

“I can’t believe you think that makes any of it ok, because—”

“It doesn’t!” Alice yelps, then sags her shoulders. “I know that. I’ve been where you are. Remember?” Tears fall from her eyes, a tiring and tedious phenomenon at this point, but it’s not within her control. “All I can say is that I’m truly sorry.”

“Okay, people, let’s do this. If you need to touch butts, make it quick, we’ve got a multiverse to save.” Margo strolls past them, the axes on her shoulders.

Quentin quiets down, and stares at her tears. “Uhh, I need to focus. Why would you tell me this now?”

“Because I meant it. We’re best when we’re a team, Q. No matter what, I don’t want to lose that.” She wipes away her tears, calming her temper as he tries his.

“Can we talk about this after we save the world? Again?”  

She hums her assent. “Could we hug?” Alice asks, her voice small, and Quentin glances away, then back to her, his eyes watering over, his lips turning downward, but he nods. They hold each other for a few seconds, two bleeding hearts. A spell gone wrong, but a risk worth taking. They’re something different now, something new—what, exactly, she doesn’t know yet. But she’ll always try to save him, they don’t need to be linked romantically for that. Love comes in a wide variety of corresponding finger tut combinations that evoke and empower, and Alice will try to find theirs.

The group, save for Julia, assembles at the backdoor of the Cottage, and glance at the lounge one last time. They’ve spent a great deal of time here, shared heartfelt moments about her family, had confrontational conversations about how to stop the Beast, and Alice blended in the eclectic background as she tried to mingle with others. She’s grown so much in the last few years, and she doesn’t want to let her fear rule her. Not anymore. Quentin is able to handle the truth, no matter how dire the situation, so she would try too.

“Penny, wait.” Alice stands in the doorway, and Penny turns around to face her.

He glances to Quentin and Margo, who are waiting for him a few feet away. Quentin is not looking at them, and Margo has an annoyed look on her face. They’ve somewhere to be, but Penny still nears Alice. “What do you want?” His voice is cool, and hard, as if she’s testing his patience too.

“Oh. I just, uhm, I want to apologize. In case everything goes to shit.” Alice slants towards him, but he’s guarded. “I choose you.”

“You fucked him.”

“That, that, was a mistake. I was confused. I-I thought I could make it work, somehow, that our love would be enough to save us. But it isn’t. There’s no fixing us. We’re done.” Her heart is racing, and Alice wants nothing more than to touch Penny, to lean into his comfort, but he’s not giving her any, so she keeps her hands to herself, fussing with the fabric of her skirt. “I broke it off.”

A muscle in his jaw twitches, and he tilts his head. “Too little, too late.”

“Penny, I—“

“Can you hurry the fuck up, dickwads? We’ve got a demon to exorcise.” Margo shouts, and swings one of her axes in the air.

Penny glances over his shoulder at Margo, doesn’t say anything, then stares into Alice’s eyes, taking his time before responding. “You need to leave me alone. I don’t want to say shit I’ll regret.”

“Fine. Okay.” Alice draws her brows together, and chews the inside of her cheek. “Be careful.”

Penny lingers by the doorframe, his eyes softening. “Yeah. You too.” Then he saunters to Margo and Quentin, holds Margo’s hand, and they’re gone, off to find the Monster and save Eliot.

Alice bides her time in Dean Fogg’s office until it’s time to do the cooperative spell. She moves in synchronicity with other magicians, energy flowing from her chest to the tips of her fingers. Once in a lifetime kind of magic, and Alice feels alive in the aftermath, but she doesn’t get to linger on the sensation, she doesn’t get to continue performing cooperative magic. She convenes with Quentin and Margo, gathers the bottles, one for Quentin, one for her, as Margo stays behind with Eliot in the hospital. The final step. They meet Penny in their alma mater’s lab, all the tables and chairs moved aside for the mirror they have to go through to enter the Mirror World.

There’s something that stops Alice from opening the door to the Seam in the Mirror World, a tightness in the pit of her stomach, a whisper in the back of her mind that tells her not to. But they’re on a clock. And everything goes horribly wrong.

Penny drags her back to the mirror while Quentin—he, he disintegrates in front of her eyes, and there’s nothing she can do about it, there’s no way for her to save him. Gleaming, gold sparkles blur her vision, and then she’s on the floor in the lab, Penny’s arms embracing her, as her heart breaks. Not like this. It’s supposed to be her. She was going to be the one to throw the bottles in the Seam. Quentin wasn’t supposed to die. Water streams from the mirror, and Alice wails.

It takes her days, after that, to get out of bed, and she only comes out to honor Quentin at the bonfire. She doesn’t know what to say, none of them do, so they sing for him, they sing to him, wherever he is, and it doesn’t change anything, but it’s a goodbye he deserves. An ending he’s fought for. Alice drops the Brakebills mug into the fire, wishing him farewell, one last offering in his name, one final impact he’s made in her life. One of three men she’s loved and lost. Then she’s back to her room at the penthouse, not ready to mingle with the others, but unable to leave them at the same time.

They’re not close friends, she’s not with most them, but they’re the closest thing she has to Quentin.  

And then there’s Penny, who stops the days from blending together. A speck of light in the shadows of her mind. He visits her bed every day, with bagels and caffé mochas, or other delights, settles her into his warm arms, and offers her every ounce of comfort and care he has to give. She soaks it all in, airs her grievings, then burrows deeper into his chest. He talks to her about mundane things to give her something to focus on, about his theories on the changed Circumstances, about the reorganization at Brakebills, about a ripped page that Julia found in Quentin’s room, about another letter from the Library, about Kady’s on-going role as leader to the hedge witches.

This isn’t how she wanted her story with Quentin to end, and there’s still some guilt that lingers in her heart, for daring to speak her truth, but she can’t save Quentin. Not anymore. And she has to learn to live with that, and find meaning in how her life has unfolded, and she’ll do that together with the others, as soon as she’s ready to come out of bed. Together with Penny, who has made his intentions clear.

“You don’t have to be here for me. You don’t have to care.”

“I know, but I’m not going anywhere.”

Masterlist || Main Masterlist

Penny groans, blows out some air, then holds her hands. He gazes into her eyes. “Tell him the truth, or just dump him. I don’t care. But I’m no longer playing second fiddle to that jackass.”

There’s that pull again, jerking her back and forth, to test her loyalty between the two men in her life. “It’s not that easy, Penny.”

“Seriously?” He gets up, and shakes his head.

Alice walks up to him immediately, her throat closing up, her vision blurring when she discerns Penny’s stiff posture. “It’s, just, he’s already in a bad place. His father died, Eliot is possessed, and I-I don’t want to pour on top of that by breaking up with him.”

“I get that. But I’m not your dirty secret.”

Penny’s words sting her eyes, and tears roll down. She hugs herself. “I’m afraid, okay. He’s not thinking straight. He’s putting everything on the line to save Eliot, and I’m afraid of what he’ll do when we fall apart too.”

“As fucked up as that is, you’re not responsible for his sanity.”

“But I shouldn’t be making it worse,” Alice yelps.

He closes the distance between them, and the undercurrent of yearning and compunction thickens in her chest. “You are. There’s no way around that. Crying over it changes nothing.” Penny wipes away her tears, his fingers tangling her thoughts. “We’ve been doing this dance for a while now, even before I had you in my bed. And in the shower. And on the dresser.” His voice deepens, and she sucks in her breath, her lips parted. The human heart doesn’t always do what society has made conventional. It’s a lesson she’s learned, mistakes she’s had to make. “Cut the cord.”

“I will. I messed up.” Alice gives a firm nod while she holds his hand. “I’ll talk to him tomorrow. Okay?”

“Do that. Now I’m done talking about and protecting his feelings,” Penny says after a deep breath, but then he continues: “I do that enough by not ending that monster’s life to begin with. We’re jeopardizing more and more lives, gods and humans alike, including our own. Every fucking day. Just because Quentin decided we’re all worth the gamble, because he’s sad and hurting. Guess what, so are the rest of us.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Penny cracks his neck, and rolls back his shoulders. “I don’t need apologies, Alice.”

“I’ll talk to him tomorrow,” Alice repeats, on the tips of her toes, her fingers on his strained jaws, and she kisses him slowly.

A second later they’re in Penny’s room where they spend the rest of the night in his bed, limbs steering and thrusting, their words unraveling, each slumberous moment fraught with slow kisses, persisting whimpers, and uneven exhalations.

Their morning is slow. Alice spends most of it in his bed, with a book in her hands, away from Margo and her accusative glances. The sun’s comfortable reflection dances on her skin. “What are you reading?” Penny asks after sitting down beside her, and taking off his boots.

“A book.”

He lifts his eyebrow, and puts a takeaway bag between their bodies. “I can see that, wise-ass.”

Alice shows him the cover. “Its called Colloquial Hindi: The Complete Course For Beginners.” After a bleak period without her scholarly comforts, Alice has found the incentive to read again, and she wants to do something useful with it.

“Wow,” he says, and his mouth curves into a smile. “You’ll speak it better than me in no time.”

He’s impressed with her, she can tell, and it makes warmth rush to her cheeks. Alice closes the book. “It seems a little outdated.”

“Tsk, already evaluating, huh.” Penny leans on his elbow, and stares into her eyes, his smile still present. “Say something in Hindi then.”

She knits her brows, glances at the takeaway bag, and tries to formulate the simplest sentence in her head to ask for its content. “Uhh, aaj kya lae hai?”

“Aapka sabse pasandeeda.”

“What does that mean?”

“Your favorite.” Penny shows her a box with extra crispy bacon strips, and a green smoothie. She reaches for it immediately. “We should watch some Bollywood movies to practice your new language skills.”

Alice nods, and takes a sip of the smoothie. “I’d like that.”

“But for today, I think you should eat your breakfast, then go take a shower, because… you’re kinda ripe.” Penny waves a hand in front of his nose, and Alice gasps. He grins. “Then, I can take you to this mountain ridge in Norway.”

“That’s rude.”

“To my nostrils.” He laughs, and kisses her when she ignores him.

But she finishes her breakfast, then does take that shower. Seconds later she’s with him on a rocky mountain ridge, surrounded by calming blue waters, and a summery sky. Another moment to themselves, a moment to breathe, before they have to return to fixing world problems, taking down authoritarian institutions, and stopping immature monsters. All in a day’s work.

Margo’s unexpected return to the penthouse controls the attention of everyone. Still, Alice senses their eyes on her, observing her movements, examining the finite space between her and Penny, judging her actions. Everyone but Quentin. After Margo retells her delirious desert hero’s journey for the fourth time,  much to her annoyance, plans of stopping the monster with her axes—Sorrow and Sorrow, no points for originality—are discussed. Alice suggests casting an incorporate bond on Margo’s spirit-bottles, which results in a trip to Brakebills South.

Penny drops her and Quentin off with a pointed look. Now is as good a time as any to have the conversation with Quentin, she thinks with a heavy heart. No more excuses. Except that he isn’t listening. Then, there’s Mayakosvky, who has swapped his present consciousness with one from a different time—a timeshare spell—so they’ve to do a time travel spell of their own. Quentin goes into his past-self, and his past-self goes into Quentin.

Alice hasn’t thought this through. He, Quentin from their first year, is still unencumbered by the toiling suffering ahead of them. There’s a lightheartedness to him that makes her ache for everything that she’s lost. Even his movements are different, more carefree. He babbles about his mundane thoughts, complains about Mayakovsky’s cruelty, he sniggers, and easily shows her affection through words and kisses. A sweet, willing, believer. She aches. A kind-hearted soul who just wants to mean something to someone. And he has. For so long Quentin was the most important person in her life. So when he kisses her she lets herself get wrapped up in it, in his loving arms instead of cold and detached ones.

But it doesn’t last long. Quentin returns to his body, and everything changes.

They sit for awhile in their old classroom at Brakebills South, and he opens up to her like he hasn’t for months. He tells her about his discipline, the one Mayakovsky assigned him to after years of not knowing. Minor mendings. It’s fitting, Alice thinks, because he had always restored what she was missing. There is true power in the small stuff, the little things, which she longs for so much.

He’s still talking to her when they return to the penthouse, and she still hasn’t told him the truth, so she follows him into his bedroom. He gives her the repaired mug from Brakebills, and it’s as good as new. Still functioning.

She’s turning the mug around in her hand when Quentin stands in front of her. There’s a line on his forehead, thoughts popping in. She waits for him to speak. He glances away from her, before meeting her eyes, his tinged with sadness. “When we first met, I was clinging on to some naive, idealistic notions of what the world should be. How people should be. And I think that I’ve realized, if I just throw away all that childish bullshit, I can forgive people for not living up to my stupid expectations.”

It’s good to be able to communicate with him again, but his explanation hurts, because he’s talking about parts of him that she fell in love with. “Like yourself?” Alice asks, and he avoids her gaze again, a somber smile appears on his face.

“How did we get so distant, Vix?” Quentin takes her hand, and she looks down. Her eyes water at the mention of his nickname for her. Their hands still fit, as if nothing has changed, as if she hasn’t been lying to the one person she always thought she’d be honest with. “You’re right here, and yet there’s so much between us. How’d that happen?”

She furrows her brows, “We stopped trying, perhaps.”

“I guess I’m guilty of that,” Quentin says. “I think I was holding onto how we were, how I still wanted you and I to be, instead of allowing us to change into a new us. It was unfair of me. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too.” Alice bites her lip. It’s right there. She needs to tell him the truth, but he’s not been this vulnerable with her in weeks. But still, she has to—

He steps closer, his voice shaking. “Could we try again?”

“What about Eliot?”

“What about him?”

Her lip trembles. She doesn’t know how to bring that up, because she fears the truth. She’s not certain she can take his rejection again after everything. “I, uhh, I thought that you and—”

“I’m with you, aren’t I?” Quentin tries again, leaning closer. “What if we tried again? Actually tried?  I want you in my life, Alice.”

Alice hesitates, but bobs her head as she contemplates her situation. He kisses her, the thoughts won’t leave. It’s everything she’s wanted to hear for so long. There’s still so much between them, years worth of history. Nights spent together researching, conversations that took them all over the world, and into others, without having to travel, wistful notions that they’d last through whatever came their way. Quentin makes a dreamer out of her when all she’s known is heartache. Perhaps, now that they’re both trying, they could be new too. Maybe they could still function.

She’s waited for this moment for weeks. No, for months. Before he had taken her back. His touch is still comfortable on her body, tracing the route to connection, fumbling along the way, consumed by their urges as he buries himself inside of her.

For a moment, Alice allows herself to give into wishful thinking, but she can’t rid herself of the heavy weight on her chest, smothering her noises, and reducing her to tears. He’s staring at her with sleepy eyes, and she averts her gaze. She doesn’t know how to do this again with Quentin, even if the procedure is familiar enough for their bodies. It’s not for her mind. It’s not for her heart.

Not when she’s already found something different with Penny.

Alice is a mess. She’s fresh wounds, cut deep, bleeding out, because of her own lapse of judgement. There’s no one else to blame for the pain she causes, and for the fear she hides behind. Her life is starting to become a pattern of sneaking out of men’s rooms. In this case it’s out of her boyfriend’s room, at the crack of dawn, to avoid both Quentin and Penny, because she doesn’t know what to do about either of them.

For a little while, she manages to stay out of their way. She showers, tears spilling down her face, and the warm water soothing the tension in her hunched shoulders. She goes outside for breakfast, spends the afternoon by herself in the restricted section of the MET, the one intended for ambient-users, and when she’s back at the penthouse, things have gone to shit. Julia has been monster-napped, Quentin and Penny discover the Secret Sea, Fen returns with fish-Josh, and Margo tries to fix that.

A lot is going on, all at once, all of a sudden. Their circumstances are barreled forward, like the ending of a badly paced book. Alice retreats to her room, needing a minute to process everything else that’s happened. But there’s a knock on the door that stops her thoughts.

Penny is standing in her doorway, and crosses his arms. “There you are,” he says.

She still hasn’t made up her mind, but she can’t have it all. Alice moves to her curtains, heavy and dark ones with a lacey one underneath, as Penny enters her room and shuts the door behind him. She pulls the sheer curtains closed, the harsh sunlight like a mother’s glare now abated, and faces him.

He approaches her desk, and glances at the mess she’s made of it. Stacks of books, chaotic thoughts scribbled down in her notebook, herbs and sigils for the right spell. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“Things have been crazy,” Alice says, and collects her notes to store it in her drawer. “How did it go in Fillory?”

“Fine. Did you talk to him?”

Tears prick at her eyes once more. “We talked but—”

“You weren’t in your room last night.” Penny obstructs her hand, and she drops the notes on the desk. He bends slightly, his eyes holding hers. “Were you with him?”

“Yes,” Alice says. Her voice sounds strange, a frail rustle, even to her own ears.

Penny sucks in his breath as his posture goes rigid in front of her. She’s going to lose him. He lets out a chuckle, a pained edge to it. “So, what? He invites you back into his bed, and that’s it?” He states with a sneer. Alice darts her head from side to side, but he doesn’t let her speak. “All I was good for was a temporary fuck, to keep you warm at night, until he could stand to look at you again?”

The words sting, but not as much as the wounded expression on his face, pleading to prove him wrong. “It’s not—it’s not like that, Penny.” Alice says and reaches for his arms, but he shrugs her off. “I-I don’t know what I’m doing. Okay.”

“Yeah, that’s fucking great.” He takes another step back.

She’s spiraling, no longer in dangerous territory, but a trapped animal in a cage of her own making, unable to claw her way out. “I can’t just give up on him. We’ve been part of each other’s lives for—for years. I can’t just—I can’t give up on that.”

“Don’t expect me to stick around.” Penny stares at the door.

“I know.” Alice sobs, her voice twisting further at the confirmation that she’s really losing him because of her indecision and deceit. She deserves it, for warping into a person she barely recognizes. “God. I-I’m sorry, Penny. I’m so—”

“Fuck that. I don’t want your shitty apologies,” Penny says, whirls around, and mounts her between his arms on the desk. She’s caught off guard, and gasps, her hands landing on his chest. He’s stiff underneath her touch, pumping out shallow breaths. His dark eyes stare quietly at her, smoldering with fervor like she’s never seen before. “He's not going to give you what you want, what you truly need.” Warm fingers slink between her knees, and crawl up her inner thighs. “Just tell me, does he touch you like I do? Does he make you burn?”

“Shut up.” Alice parts her lips, and her hands fist in his shirt as flames surge to her heart.

“Does he make you cry out his name?” Penny demands, and spreads his hand over her heat, a scant layer of satin and her weak mind the only obstacles in his way. He breaks the skin in her neck with his teeth, and she fights a moan deep in her throat. But her back arches anyway, betraying herself by answering the question for him. His fingers slip underneath the satin, and he rubs her. No build up, just pressure, then bites again. She whimpers, and yanks him closer. “Does he make you beg for more? Does he?”

“Ahh. Shut up.”

His arm slithers around her and he pushes her knees apart with his hips, a finger sliding inside of her core. She’s throbbing for him, slick and dire as he soothes her, a painful divergence from what she experienced the night before. God, she needs him. Beyond this madness, she longs for the intimacy of his vulnerability, his consideration, as well as his physicality. He’s right, and she knows it, but she can’t just throw away years of history. Penny licks his way up her neck, his finger thrusting harder, and whispers roughly in her ear: “When he’s inside of you, and your eyes are closed, is it his face that you see, or mine?” Alice cries out, every whimper tinged with shame as words fail her.

“Shh—Ohh.”

“Is he even seeing yours?” Penny retracts his hand, his body heaving between her legs. And his words sear—as if he’s slapped her across the face.

She pushes him away, and climbs off her desk, adjusting her underwear. “You’re such an asshole.” Alice snarls, but her wobbling chin unmasks the hurt.

“Right. I’m the asshole.” Penny raises his hands in front of him, and steps further away from her, towards her door. “Take a look in the fucking mirror.”

Part 9

“What! How?” Alice says with a shrill voice, then peeks at the study. Quentin and Julia are talking to each other, none the wiser. She hopes.

“She heard you, apparently.”

“Oh my God.” Alice brings her hands to her face, heat burning in her neck. This can’t be happening. This isn’t supposed to happen. Not now. It’s not the right time.

Penny raises his shoulders, and he reaches for her. “So, we’ll use a silencing spell next time.”

Alice steps away from him, and mumbles: “That doesn’t change any—”

“She’s not going to tell anyone.” He crosses his arms in front his chest.

“She’s not? Why not?”

“Because I told her it’s none of her fucking business.” He gives her a hardened look, eyes scrutinizing her intently, then averts his gaze. “I’ve got to get back to figuring out who Enyalius is.”

He leaves her to her disquieting thoughts, and Alice plops on the chair. There’s an incessant throb in her heart. Penny is back in the study, face glued to a book, and anger twists inside of her at how easily he just goes back to what he’s doing. She doesn’t get to be angry at him, she knows that, but she’s no longer pretending like she has control over her emotions. She really doesn’t. Alice mutters to herself, and turns back to the map, to the numbers, to the information. To the one thing she has a handle on. She releases a breath, then tuts her fingers in a geometric pattern and a few figures change color on the wooden table. Oh, no. Alice double checks the data. Triple checks. This doesn’t add up. She texts Kady and Pete. She really doesn’t want to talk to Kady right now, but a rebellion waits for no one.

“What? I’m here.” Kady drops the groceries on the kitchen island, and stomps to the dining area.

“We need to talk,” Alice says.

“He told you?” She quirks a brow, eyes drifting to the study. “We don’t need to talk about it.”

“Look, Kady, I—”

“It’s none of my business.”

“It’s not, but—”

Kady drops her arms, but everything about her remains as hostile. “Let’s leave it at that. Because you don’t want my opinion, so you better not have texted me for it.”

“I didn’t. If you’d let me get a word in,” Alice snaps, and Kady shrugs, then waits for Alice to continue. “It’s the beetle, we lost it as soon as it left Earth.”

Pete remains a no-show, so they contact Zelda and lay out the facts. The Library is corrupt, lying about its ambient output, and nobody cares that the hedge witches pay the price for it. Zelda’s eyes glisten with disbelief when she hears the truth, and Alice softens her opinion of her. It’s hard to come to terms with the fact that everything you ever believed in… might be false. Unequivocally is, in this case. They’re one step closer to taking the Library down. By the time Zelda leaves, Alice and Kady are preemptively celebrating their successful conversion of Zelda into their mole.

But it doesn’t last long. Julia, Quentin and Penny return to the penthouse, shaken and slightly the worse for wear.

“What happened?” Alice takes a step towards them, then stops herself.

Quentin stares through her, his eyes small and empty. “Enyalius… is dead.”

“The asshole forgot his password,” Penny says, and removes his jacket.

Kady’s face twists in a mixture of annoyance and confusion. “What?”

“His heart got ripped out,” Julia says, and gives her coat to Penny, which he also puts away. Alice follows the established intimacy between them, and shoves her hands in the pockets of her skirt.

“Another one bites the dust.” Penny pours water into a glass, his gaze wandering toward Alice, and Julia grabs a bottle of wine and whisky. Quentin, unlike the two of them, hasn’t moved or said a word yet. Alice nears him, and she tugs his arm.  

“Shit. Well, we’re eating enchiladas.” Kady grumbles behind her. “And it’s not cooking itself.”

“Hi,” Alice says, and he kisses her hello. She freezes, all too aware of prying eyes. One set in particular. Quentin is trembling, and Alice feels herself being pulled at both ends. But she keeps her back to Penny. “Are you okay?” Alice asks Quentin.

“Yes. No. I don’t know.” His shoulders sag, hair falling in his eyes, the color drained from his face. “We can’t catch a break.”

Alice glances back at the kitchen island. Kady and Penny are slowly gathering the ingredients for dinner while Julia pours the drinks. There’s a rigidity in Penny’s figure that wasn’t there a second ago. “Some food and a good night’s rest might help.”

“Sure. Whatever. I’m, just, I’m going to sit here.” Quentin points to the staircase.

“I’ll join—”

“No, I just need a minute.”

She swallows down the sting of dismissal, and leaves him to himself. Her mouth is dry and her thoughts so loud, full of frustration and confusion that she needs to bite down, so she takes the whisky Julia is offering. Among the four of them, Quentin sequestered to the stairs, food is served with ease. It’s a stagnant dinner, nobody has energy or desire to make smalltalk. Julia is still trying with Quentin, trying to connect with him, but he’s withdrawn from her too. This isn’t the first time Julia’s dealt with this side of Quentin, she was sure to let Alice know that, yet she seems just as lost.

One by one, they all retreat to their bedrooms save Penny and herself. They’re still seated on the high chairs, nipping on their drinks, their thoughts unspoken, arms grazing against one another. The hushed hours before dawn, which she’ll once more choose to spend with him. They’ve not talked at all since their conversation earlier today, but she’s been watching him, and he’s been observing her, the indignation visible, from across the room to right next to each other.

She’s taken a risk with him. Alice is following her heart instead of her brain. And, yes, it hurts a lot to be this person, but it also feels unbelievably good in a way she hasn’t experienced before. She feels better than she’s felt in a really long time. The sum of being with Penny exceeds the destructive parts. She’ll have to tell Quentin the truth. She owes him that much, and she owes it to Penny too. He hasn’t said anything, but it’s there in his eyes, in his body. For as much as he can see right through her, she’s understanding him better too.  

But how do you break a heart when it’s already hurting? Not too long ago, it was hers on the line when Quentin was cruel and unforgiving to her. How could she do that to him? Stalling only makes it worse, makes her worse, and still… she’s afraid to rip off the bandaid.

Alice sighs, and leans her head on Penny’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she says, and he brushes his fingers through her hair until she faces him. She leans towards him, his mouth only inches apart. The tangle of fingers and thoughts that fogs her brain.  

His hand drops to the small of her back, spinning circles underneath the trim of her shirt. “Look, I don’t want to pressure you, but—”

A loud bang comes from behind them, and Alice jumps back, out of the chair, away from Penny. Margo shuts the clock door behind her, and stomps towards the light, towards them. “I’m in need of a bath, two batteries, and a stiff drink.” She dumps a bag with brown bottles and two axes on the marble, and takes Penny’s glass of whisky out of his hand. “This’ll do.” She throws it back, then smiles at them.

“Uhh, hi,” Alice says.

“Ugh. It’s night here? Great.” Margo sighs dramatically. “These time rules change as often as a prostitute swaps their panties on a Sunday.”

“Right. There’s still some enchiladas if you’re hungry.” Penny points at the food behind her.

“Hungry, hm?” Margo grabs a plate, heats an enchilada in the microwave, and glances back at them over her shoulders. Judgement drips down. “Were you two about to… eat?”

Alice frowns. “What?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m not good with subtlety. Let me try again.” Margo clears her throat, and shakes her arms, as if she’s an actress who is about to give a performance on camera. She leans on the marble countertop, and pouts. “I’m hurt, Alice. If you were going to get payback, I would’ve volunteered. We could’ve shown Quentin what it’s like when competitors become allies.”

“What are you talking about?” Penny asks.

“Nothing.” Alice sucks in her cheeks, a fixed stare at Margo.  

Margo lifts her hand, her thumb and index finger drawing together, referring to the size of—“Small, minor, insignificant things.”

The microwave beeps. “You’re a terrible friend,” Alice says with a harsh voice, and Margo gasps. Penny, on the other hand, is fighting a smile.

“I’m joking, you bore. Grow a clit, would ya.” Margo rolls her eyes, and grabs her heated plate, and heads to the staircase. “Anyway, call me what you want, I’m not the two-timing scumbag.”

Alice clenches her teeth.

Part 8

Alice tears a strip of bacon between her teeth, and chews with haste. One strip, two strips. A third. The smokiness lingers in her mouth, and she swallows it down. Eyes closed, head bobbing from left to right, sighing to herself.

When Penny enters the kitchen, her eyes fly open, and flutters erupt in the pit of her stomach. “Morning,” Alice mumbles and cleans her fingers in a tissue.

He saunters around the island, unperturbed, a potency in his shoulders, and plants a kiss on her lips.

She totters away from him, a hand on the marble countertop to keep her steady. “What are you doing?” Her heart is in her throat, the voices in her head erratic and uncontrollable, telling her she needs to stop, that she’s horrible, that she needs to leave. But her legs are firmly rooted on the spot.

Penny crunches his forehead, and rubs his neck. “What does it look like?”

“Anyone could walk in and see us.” Alice looks at the open floor plan, the hallway on the left that leads to their bedrooms, the circular staircase that leads to the second floor. Not a soul in sight.

“Please, no one wakes up before six thirty.” Penny squints his eyes, then steps closer. “Just you.”

Alice slants toward him. “And you…”

“I’ve a good reason to.” He bends down, and presses his lips on hers once more. Another soft kiss, and when he lingers, she returns the favor. His arms slink around her waist while his mouth follows the line of her jaw with little pecks, the stubble of his beard tickling her skin. She bites her bottom lip to push away the giddy feeling, when her brain is telling her the opposite, and moves to the coffee maker. “So, why’d you sneak out?”

She turns her back to him, and pours coffee in two mugs to give herself time to consider her answer. He may not care about hurting Quentin’s feelings, but she does. That’s not even considering her own behavior—anomalous and ardent when she’s trying to be a better person. She’s a hypocrite. A cheater, and a hypocrite. She hands Penny one of the mugs, and sips on her own. “I needed to shower.”

He gives her a pointed look, but doesn’t say anything, just takes a big gulp from the coffee. “Well, I’ve worked up an appetite.”

“There’s bacon.”

His gaze sets on the skillet on the stove. He shakes his head, and opens a cupboard. “Nah. How about pancakes?”

Alice has never tried bacon with pancakes. A gambit, a little weird, perhaps, but worth endeavoring. She helps him prepare the dish, sharing slow smiles and residual tension from the night before, from the kiss minutes ago.

Flutters in her body that feel like a warning sign.

She’s deep in dangerous territory, and she keeps digging deeper.

A body without control. It’s terrifying what it does to her.

To Alice’s relief, Kady enters from the hallway when the pancakes are almost done, and opens the door to Pete. They sit at countertop, and munch on fresh fruits, bacon, and fluffy pancakes while discussing their plan to help the hedges with ambient. Alice listens, anything to take her mind off her thoughts, and Penny heads to the study—probably to help Julia with her missing binder. Alice watches him until he’s out of sight, chomping on a strip of crispy bacon, then offers Kady and Pete to check in with Sheila to see if Alice can help them with their piping problems. Alice still needs to talk to Sheila, anyway. She needs to convince her that the Library isn’t good for her.

But then the necessary leverage materializes in their living room mirror: Harriet Schiff. Together with Kady, Alice negotiates a new deal with Zelda. The nearest pipe junction box with ambient for the hedges in return for mending a fragmented Harriet. Everything falls apart quickly after that, in the most literal sense. Alice accidentally fractures herself, and imprisons her most egotistical and overbearing self in the mirror world to keep herself from making more mistakes and ruining her life further. But it isn’t her arrogance that has led to her most recent series of stupid decisions, it’s her fear. She was afraid of the influence of magic on herself, and the lengths she went in her quest of knowledge. She’s afraid of the full scope of her abilities, still unmet. She’s afraid of losing the best thing that’s ever happened to her. Quentin. But, most of all, Alice is afraid to acknowledge that he’s not.

In the aftermath of breaking up and reconciling with herself, Alice can’t endure that whole cycle again. She pushes away thoughts of Quentin, but when she enters the penthouse he’s seated on the dark sofa in the living room. Unavoidable. Exhaustion settles in her bones as she drags herself towards him.

She drops her heavy bag on the floor, and stands behind the sofa. When he notices her, he puts his books away. He looks the way she feels. Excluding the ugly words she’s used on herself earlier today. Mistakes that she will own. But not tonight, she needs to rest first.

Quentin rubs his eye and suppresses a yawn. “Where’ve you been?”

“Brakebills. I helped Kady.” Alice puts a hand in front of her mouth as she yawns. “How’s your day been?”

“I think we’ve made some headway,” Quentin says, and there’s more energy in the tone of his voice than she’s heard in days. Headway towards saving Eliot, towards whatever that may mean for them if what Penny said is true—if Eliot is more to Quentin than he leads on.

The shift in their relationship doesn’t require a big jump. Quentin did sleep with Eliot and Margo in their first year at Brakebills, when they were babies, and the worst of their problems was a common enemy. Different year, still the end of the world. They’ve come so far, yet remained in a strikingly similar situation. Fixing and fucking up, an ongoing cycle. Quentin and Eliot could’ve happened somewhere in between all that. When Alice was a niffin. When Alice was working with the library. Perhaps when he was with Alice.

It could’ve happened, and now it’s all she can think about when she looks at Quentin. He catches her eye, and he continues: “23, he went into the monster’s mind, and we’ve learned more about what he wants.”

Alice stares at her bag, guilt weighing on her. “Is Penny alright?”

“He had a seizure, but he’s fine now, I think. He’s sleeping it off.”

Her head snaps up. “He’s sleeping it off?” Alice yanks her heavy bag over her shoulder, and rushes to Penny’s room before Quentin can respond. She knocks on his door. No sound. Quentin appears in her periphery.

He stands at the entrance of the hallway. “He’ll be fine. We spoke to him earlier.”

“I’m just going to check. Goodnight.” Alice waits for Quentin to leave, which he does with reluctance, then she tries the door handle. It opens in one go. No wards. Her chest tightens.

All the lamps are turned off inside Penny’s room, but she can make out his silhouette on the bed. The curtains are drawn open. Specks of lights from high rise buildings shimmer in the distance. She places her bag softly in front of the closed door and tiptoes to the side of his bed where she sits down.

His head is resting on the pillow, his face in repose, as if nothing bad has happened. Still, a seizure shouldn’t be taken lightly. “Penny? Please wake up,” Alice says, and her clammy fingers graze his chest, she feels for a heartbeat. Steady, but her mind isn’t appeased. Her fingers become more insistent. “You need to wake up.”

“Ok, alright.” Penny stirs and opens his eyes, unfocused until his gaze lands on her. He tries to sit up, but she stops him. “Hey… what’s wrong?”

Some of the tightness in her chest dissipates. “Nothing. I-I, just, I was afraid that—Quentin said you had a seizure, and I don’t. I just need you to be ok.”

“I am. I’m good.” He sits up anyway, and his hand disappears in her hair. She leans into the touch. “Just tired. It’s been a long day.” He pecks her on the lips, then watches her with wide, thoughtful eyes. “Come here.” Penny pats the space that’s available next to him on the bed.

Alice swallows, and contemplates her actions. How far is she letting this go without putting a stop to it? The alleviation of her worries at his well-being are an overt indication of the danger she’s in. But she doesn’t want to deny Penny, she doesn’t want to deny herself, not even in these circumstances. Not when he’s looking at her with longing in his eyes for something that isn’t… sexual. She gets up, removes her shoes, and slips in bed with him. Alice lowers the blanket to his hips, and checks for bruises on his face, head, arms, chest. “Do you have any injuries? Are you in pain?”

He’s grinning as she undertakes her inspection, and she wants to roll her eyes, but then he says: “I just had a nosebleed, but it’s better now.”

“Maybe you should go see Lipson tomorrow?” She gently touches his nose.

Penny removes her hand, and squeezes it, a small smile on his lips. “Sure, I will.”

Alice slacks her shoulders. There’s nothing else she can do now except for checking at irregular intervals that he’s still breathing. Her head is heavy on his pillow, and her eyes are burning with exhaustion.

Penny switches on the lamp on his nightstand, and wraps her in his arms. “How did it go with Kady? Managed to seal the deal?” He asks, and Alice bobs her head, her eyes closing. With the unpredictable hustle and bustle of each new day, Alice ages a whole year. But she can hear Penny smiling. “Course you did.”

He tucks away a hair behind her ear, and her glasses move. She puts them on the nightstand, and wrinkles her nose. “We’re one step closer to the revolution.”

“You know, that’s really sexy. If I weren’t too tired then I’d be—” Alice snorts, and he shuts her up with a kiss. It’s annoyingly effective. “So, what’s the next step?”

“We’re waiting on Zelda to make good on her word.” Alice taps a finger on his chest, then follows the lines of his body. “We obtain ambient. Then we can track the Library’s entire magic infrastructure and find weak spots.”

He contracts his muscles when she reaches his belly button. “To manipulate?”

“Or destroy,” Alice adds. She relaxes her finger, and finds him staring intently into her eyes. She opens her mouth to speak, but he’s faster than her.

“And you’re doing alright?” He asks.

There’s a warmth in her chest. In spite of her disapproving thoughts or the guilt that’s eating away at her, she smiles. “Better than you from the look of it.”

“I’m very handsome, so I’ve no idea what that’s supposed to mean,” Penny says, his dark eyes fixed on hers. He’s joking, but the expression on his face is severe. Alice presses a kiss to his lips, and he holds her closer. “Are you staying the night?”

She doesn’t need to think it through. She nods, and he caresses her cheek. He adds: “You’re welcome to use my shower this time.”

“I won’t sneak out,” Alice murmurs.

“Good, because I’m a big fan of morning sex.”

Part 7