Chapter Text
The blast of magic had launched him back into one of the lab tables before Eliot realized that it was about to hit him, and for the longest moment, he was disoriented. The world seemed to stretch and then settle again.
“Eliot? Dude? Are you okay? Can you hear me? Holy shit.” Eliot glanced upward to stare at the pair of Joshs who hovered over him. When his gaze ticked an inch to the left the rest of their classmates doubled and tripled as the world tilted and spun. Everyone was whispering, and Eliot wondered how badly he was hurt to have them all so stunned.
“Mr. Waugh? Eliot?” Twin Professor Sunderlands pushed through the group to kneel in front of him.
“I'm fine!” He assured her, in a voice that came out octaves softer than he expected. He waved his hand like he was clearing the air only to have every ring he wore fling in the direction of his professor's face. Puzzled and bewildered he reached to stop their flight with his telekinesis. Above them a light fixture popped, causing several students to yelp in surprise.
“How many fingers, Mr. Waugh?” Sunderland waved at least 4, then 6 in front of his face.
“I think I have a concussion.” The words came out somewhat slurred.
“That's the least of your problems, dude. Oh my god, Margo is going to kill me. I'm dead. I should write my will. I need a pen. Dead man walking here.” In front of him, Sunderland was casting and Eliot sighed in relief as the world settled and her sister disappeared. When he sat up the world no longer spun.
“Better?” Eliot bobbed his head in agreement and, in doing so, realized that both his shirt collar and tie hung loose around his throat. When he reached to adjust them the sleeves of his shirt hung almost to the tips of his fingers. He was pretty sure if he stood up his pants would slide straight down his hips.
“What the fuck?” His body was smaller, and his voice was still several octaves higher. Long lean fingers still graced his hands, but they had thinned and shortened. Eliot licked his lips and reached to touch his cheek. His face was as moisturized and soft as he expected but there was a district lack of day-old stubble.
“Now don't panic! This happens at least a couple of times a year.” Sunderland was saying. Eliot tuned her out as he dropped his hand from his face to his chest. His body was built like his mother's had been, tall, thin, long-limbed, and mostly flat-chested. If he had a mirror Eliot knew that he was devastatingly pretty. “Just hold still, and don't try to cast.” Sunderland continued as Eliot took a mental inventory of his currently female form. He felt the tingle of magic wash over him and watched his hands expectantly only for nothing to change.
“Uh, nothing happened.” Josh opinionated before Eliot could speak.
“Neither of us is blind, Mister Hoberman.” Around them, the rest of the class had broken into small groups. Eliot could hear indistinct whispers in tones varying from amused to concerned. Josh looked ashen as he processed a myriad of possible consequences. Personally, Eliot thought that Margo was the least of Josh's worries. His best friend was going to laugh her ass off when they shared this with her. Above him Sunderland was adjusting her hands and beginning a new series of poppers, when those failed, she started a third. “Class dismissed.” She finally snapped as she brought her hands up to do a mann reveal. Eliot sighed. The lack of immediate change probably meant a prolonged visit to the infirmary, which sucked because this had been his last class and the bar at the Cottage had been singing a siren song in his ear for hours. Eliot huffed in annoyance as he reached for the rings he'd lost with his telekinesis.
Around him his peers shuffled to get their things, and then Josh offered him a hand up. Eliot had been correct about his pants. As Josh helped him stand they started to slide down his hips. He let them pool at his feet without a hint of embarrassment.
“Just fucking great. Do you know how hard it is to alter silk and leather once you've used magic to shrink them?” Eliot lamented as he unbuttoned his vest and slid it down his shoulders. He pressed the garment into Josh's fumbling grasp, then set his hands into the beginning position of a tailoring spell. Across from them, Sunderland waited with her arms folded across her chest.
“Is that necessary?” She demanded as Eliot set to work altering his shirt, pants, and shoes.
“Please, if you think for a second that I'm walking across campus in clothes that don't fit you're out of your mind.” He sighed as the shirt contoured to his chest, thankful that his mother's genetics meant a bra wasn't imperative. “Is there a mirror somewhere close?” He demanded as he raked a hand back through his curls, which felt as soft and silky as he imagined Quentin's hair might. “Never mind, I have one in my bag.” The compact shook itself free from the pocket and shot to his hand. The face that greeted him in the little glass circle was his own but feminine, and as predicted it had that tragically pretty quality that had led to his mother getting knocked up with her first kid at 16.
“You seemed remarkably unconcerned,” Sunderland commented as Eliot adjusted his hair.
“I signed the school's liability waiver. Plus, I doubt this will last more than a few hours. I have a duty to myself to look as drop-dead gorgeous as possible.” An eyeliner pencil floated his hand and Eliot traced it under each eye before smacking the compact shut. “Shall we?” He gestured toward the open classroom door and led the way into the hall as Josh and Sunderland trailed behind him.
“At least your personality seems unaffected.” Sunderland mused as they walked. The halls were empty but Eliot was sure that the gossip mill was already churning. The whole school would know before the staff managed to change him back. Eliot was relatively confident that Margo was going to have a field day, as for Q... Eliot found his mouth suddenly dry. What would Quentin think? Much to Eliot's chagrin, his favorite first year's recently ended relationship with Alice Quinn had proven that Q was a reliable batter for team straight. His second closest friend hadn't discussed the reasons behind the breakup. What Eliot did know was that on multiple nights Quentin had parked himself at the bar while Eliot mixed drinks and silently pined. Eliot was reasonably sure that Alice was to blame.
“It doesn't bother me. Maybe this will last a day or two and I can have a little fun with it before Lipson and Henry manage to change me back.” Eliot let his tone be glib, but the thought made his stomach tie in knots. Magic was unpredictable; there was a percentage chance that any magical change was irreversible.
“Why did the spells to change him back fail?” Josh asked as he fell in line with the two of them. As they walked Eliot tramped down the minor annoyance that his stride had been shortened.
“Some of the circumstances wouldn't line up,” Sunderland explained as they exited the building and started to cross campus. The quad was bustling with students and Eliot schooled his face into the most serene expression he could muster. The brief use of the mirror had confirmed that he was still recognizable. Eliot Waugh was unflappable; if anyone was paying attention he wanted to look as unbothered and blasé as possible. Maybe it was Sunderland's presence but no one bothered to stop them, which was simultaneously a relief and mildly disappointing. Eliot liked it when he was the center of attention.
“Give me a few minutes to track down Eleanor. I don't want either of you wandering off.” Sunderland told the two of them as they entered the infirmary. For a moment Eliot was at a loss for why Josh needed to stay before remembering that this was all Hoberman's fault.
“I am so sorry! Margo is going to...”
“Feel me up the first chance she gets.” Eliot finished. “Relax, it's not a big deal. Sunderland already said this happens with surprising regularity.” Eliot perched himself on the nearest exam bed and dug his flask from his bag; after a liberal swallow, he offered it to Josh.
“This really isn't bothering you?” The other man asked as he uncapped the container and brought it to his lips. Eliot was plenty bothered, but he shrugged nonchalantly.
“It's not ideal, obviously, but I'm looking on the bright side.” Eliot took his flask back and brought it to his lips. He was about to take a third drink when...
“I see what you mean; we should probably have Henry take a look at him.” Eliot twisted to look at look at Lipson and Sunderland. The two women were having a quiet conversation a few feet from them.
“If this situation is more serious than it appears I would appreciate being kept in the loop.” That they were already talking about involving Henry made the fine hair on the back of his neck rise.
“Rest assured, Mister Waugh. This situation is reversible.” Lipson reassured him. “What we are trying to ascertain is the duration.” Some of the tension that was slowly coiling in Eliot's gut relaxed. Unusual circumstances to complete a spell were generally the norm. He could think of dozens that required a specific time of day or phase of the moon. The clack of heels pulled him from his thoughts and he glanced sideways as Lipson joined them. “If you would like to leave Mr. Hoberman I don't see a reason for you to stay.”
“If you're leaving, be a dear and tell Margo where to find me.” Josh huffed a dramatic sigh before nodding and giving Eliot's shoulder a half-hearted punch.
“Look, man... I am so sorry for this, I owe you. Whatever you want. I'll bake it.”
“Hmm... I'll probably take you up on that. Let me ask Bambi first, she might have something specific in mind.”
“It's cool, it's cool! Whatever you guys want!” Josh gathered his things, then abruptly stopped and spun to face him. “Oh! Before it slips my mind, if you stay like this for a few days are you... umm, what pronouns should people use? Because I'm sure people will ask.”
“Wait, what?” Eliot frowned at him. He was flattered that Josh was conscious enough to think about it but it wasn't like he'd undertaken this change on purpose. He wasn't going to let a temporary spell dictate how he saw himself or let it change how others referred to him. “I'm still a man, Josh.”
“Right, I'm... that was really stupid of me, so I'm gonna go... now.” Josh snatched up his things and within a few moments the ward had emptied save for Eliot and Lipson. Sunderland, Eliot presumed, had been tasked with collecting Henry. Absentmindedly Eliot bounced his knee and brought his flask to his lips. He hated the infirmary.
“Should you be drinking so much?” Eliot resisted the urge to laugh. He knew his limits and a few sips weren't even coming close to testing them.
“I think I know...”
“You know the limits of your male form.” Lipson corrected before Eliot could remind her that he and substance abuse were old friends. “Your weight, height, and body chemistry have all changed.”
“I...” She raised a very good point. “Will take that under advisement.” He agreed. That was annoying, and it derailed his plans for the evening. He took a final drink, then reluctantly capped the container. His knee bounced harder. “What circumstances are we waiting on to change?” He asked after a couple of moments of prolonged silence.
“Well...” Lipson lifted a multi-pronged set of lenses. As she flipped through them Eliot gripped the edge of the bed to keep himself still. Lipson still hadn't given him an answer when they heard the bark of Henry's laughter from somewhere out of sight. Eliot fixed his gaze on the hallway and watched as Henry strode into view. The older man chuckled again, and when Lipson offered him the lenses he flexed them through their various combinations. The tension in Eliot's gut tightened into a ball.
“I see. Thank you Eleanor.” Henry passed the lenses back to the healer and adjusted the sleeve of his jacket. “I'd appreciate it if you gave Eliot and I privacy while we discuss his circumstances.”
“Of course, Henry.” Eliot fixed his eyes on the floor. Sunderland had obviously given Henry the rundown of what had happened in her classroom. Fogg finding amusement in the situation left Eliot feeling unexpectedly vulnerable.
“So what do I have to do? Wait for a waxing gibbous moon and sacrifice a virgin?” Eliot studied his fingernails as he spoke. It was a futile attempt to preserve an air of nonchalance. “I might have to go off campus to find one, as I'm pretty sure Miss Quinn deflowered the only possible option.”
“I find it highly doubtful that Mr. Coldwater was a virgin before his arrival on this campus. Thankfully, you'll not be needing one.” Henry still seemed amused, but his tone was settling into one that meant business.
“Both Lipson and Sunderland were being deliberately vague. What the hell is wrong?”
“They didn't give you an answer because they weren't sure how to explain it. To return to normal you won't require a specific celestial alignment or spell focus.” Eliot liked where this was going less and less with each passing word. Restlessly he ticked his gaze back and forth across the infirmary. “Eliot.” Henry let name hang between them until Eliot forced his gaze to the man's face. “The spells Pearl attempted should have turned you back, however...”
“Internal circumstances matter as much as external. I spent the semester with Mayakovsky.” Eliot wanted to smash something – or cry. If his internal circumstances were misaligned he was probably fucked.
“Personally, I see no reason to panic. Sunderland said you expressed interest in remaining like this for a short time.” Henry was smirking again, just a little. The man's hands settled on his shoulders and squeezed. “You and I are surprisingly similar, Eliot. We're both inherently curious and hedonistic at our cores. Correct me if I'm wrong but I think you want to spend a few days living it up with Miss Hanson before you switch back.” Eliot heaved a sigh that was mostly relief because Henry's explanation made a lot of sense. At the very least he wanted Margo to see him, and Q was sure to lose his shit. Who was he to rob them of those reactions?
“So I what? Go on a shopping spree, hit the beach in a bikini, and flirt with oblivious boys?” The thought left him almost giddy with anticipation.
“If those are the steps necessary to align your internal circumstances.” Henry had taken a few steps back from him. “You're still yourself, Eliot. The only thing the spell changed is your gender. Personally, I think you'll find this more annoying than fun after a day or so. By the end of the week, we should be able to turn you back without issue.” The pitch of high heels against the linoleum silenced Henry and they both turned their attention toward the hallway. Margo careened around the corner with a manic gleam in her eyes.
“Oh. My. God!” She squealed. Her excitement was infectious and Eliot slipped off the bed to catch his best friend in a hug. It was weird. He was still taller than Bambi, but the petite woman no longer fit perfectly under his chin. “You beautiful bitch, look at you! You're so fucking gorgeous that Quentin is going to die!” Margo took a step back and waved her fingers in a circle. “Spin, let Mama see what she's working with.” Eliot grinned at her and obediently turned. The slap that landed against his ass was expected. What he didn't anticipate was for Margo to press herself against his back, wrap her arms around his waist, and lean up to catch his ear with her teeth.
“Bambi...”
“You know what this means right?” She gave him a second to think about it, and when he wasn't forthcoming with an answer the low whisper of. “Multiple orgasms.” was sing-songed against his ear. Eliot shivered.
“Ahem.” Henry cleared his throat and waited until he had their undivided attention to continue. “We will discuss this further when the circumstances to change you back are in order. Until then, enjoy yourself... and for gods' sake... use protection. Please.” A delighted giggle got muffled against Eliot's spine as Margo buried her face into his shirt. Henry was smirking as he left them, which helped put Eliot more at ease with the whole mess. If Henry believed the situation was going to be easily remedied he was probably right.
“So...” Eliot turned his attention to Margo. “What was Fogg saying about circumstances? How long are you like this?”
“It's a phase of the moon thing, Bambi. Don't worry about it.” If his internal circumstances were out of alignment it was best not to dig into the issue too deeply. Growing up in small-town America with an abusive father had left a deep well of internalized homophobia that he preferred not to explore if it could be avoided. The more negative emotions he unearthed the slimmer his chances of returning to normal became. He was going to follow Henry's advice and have fun with this until he got bored of it. Once the novelty wore off he was fairly certain that changing back would be a breeze.