WHO Eliot Waugh & Ravi Chakrabarti (mention of Number Five) •
WHERE The Clinic •
WHEN Week 11, Day 7 before the cursed karaoke machine is disabled •
SONG"Come on Over" by Jessica Simpson
Don't slow down, don't stop for gas
Keep those four wheels spinning fast
Just come on over
WARNINGS Country music and angst
It had happened fast, thanks to the obnoxious power of teleportation. Jumped by a fourteen year old. Sort of. The two of them were going to have a talk later about appropriate behavior because he couldn’t imagine they had this kind of relationship in an alternate universe, but after getting his knee kicked forward bringing him to Five’s eye level, Eliot was decked hard in the face that he briefly saw stars. The encounter ended as quickly as it started and by the time Eliot recovered Five was nowhere to be seen.
Maybe the other Eliot had done something to deserve it? Eliot patted himself down for his flask, face wincing, and that’s when he realized he hadn’t been jumped but robbed. “Son of a bitch,” Eliot cursed.
Maybe coming up with activities for other people to do was going to be necessary sooner rather than later if people were getting this desperate.
He got back up to his feet and touched his fingers to his face. No bleeding but it felt painful and swollen to the touch. “Mother fucker,” Eliot swore again under his breath.
Without thinking about how easily he was being played by a very persistent assassin, Eliot walked toward the clinic to get something for his face, doing his best not to limp. He still had his pride, after all.
Ravi was at the clinic, of course, because at this point in the day, where else would he be? He had only his room that he was forced to share with a stranger and there was nothing else of much interest on the campus. He made it to the mess halls for meals, but essentially? This was it. Stocking and restocking the infirmary for whenever the possibility of something going wrong was higher than normal. And given that people were breaking out into a case of song and dance every so often, there was a chance something more insidious was lurking around the corner. There usually was.
He was playing hacky sack by himself in the middle of the little waiting room that they had at Waldron Clinic, when the front door opened and someone entered.
Someone being Eliot.
Eliot, who had what was the beginning of a decent shiner. Immediately, Ravi dropped the hacky sack and walked briskly over to where Eliot was standing. “What happened?” He demanded, reaching out to press gently on what was a lovely bruise in the making. Feeling for fractures, he found none and pulled his hand away, though he reached down to grab Eliot’s elbow to lead him to the back to one of the examination rooms.
“Ugh, can we not?” Eliot groaned. He put up no resistance to Ravi’s examination and followed him obediently, but recounting his inability to defend himself to a child seemed like it’s own level of punishment.
But the attention was nice. Even if the hands on his face reflexively caused him to wince just slightly. It was nice to have someone fawning over him. Someone who clearly cared about an Eliot. Eliot could, for a moment, pretend it was him. More and more, he wanted it to be.
“How far has medical technology come to prevent bruising, because I have almost zero makeup with me and none of the things I need for even a questionable glamour cover up.” A bruise to his face would make his condition obvious to others if it didn’t reset. Eliot couldn’t say for certain why he was reluctant to tell the others, only that he thought it showed growth and maturity that he had told anyone at all, all the while not thinking very deeply about it.
“Sorry, but I need to make sure you didn’t break your face,” Ravi said, sounding slightly apologetic about the face touching. It had been clinical on his end, not even one thought about how close and personal he had gotten to Eliot for those few seconds. Whenever there were injuries involved, his own personal bullshit was easily put aside. It was why he made such a good doctor. His ability to compartmentalize had only gotten better over the years of world hopping and being forced to treat loved ones for injuries all of the time.
Because of course he always ended up surrounding himself with big damn heroes.
Leading Eliot to the examination chair that was in the room, he pushed him down onto it and manhandled the chair into the right position so that he could move the overhead light to where he needed it to see Eliot’s face better.
Peering straight into the Magician’s eyes, he asked, “Do you have trouble seeing? Blurriness? Double vision? Anything that seems off?” And then, once again, he asked, “What happened? I can see that it only just occurred, so this isn’t an old injury.”
“I’m fine,” Eliot insisted. “I could really use a cold compress and I don’t know? Ointment? Do they do ointment for this kind of thing? Essential oils? Tea tree something?” Maybe the ointment was more of a Brakebills thing. Without meaning to give any additional injuries away, Eliot rubbed his knee where he had rudely landed on it.
Ravi had a doctor's eye and years of experience at this point with the "rub some dirt in it and walk it off" crowd. Lips pressed together, he exhaled harshly through his nose and then jabbed his thumb hard at the knee Eliot had been favoring. "You'll get your cold compress and a topical ointment to help with the swelling when you tell me what happened and where else you might be injured."
Do no harm, sure, but he needed to know what he was working with and Eliot was making him ask a third time. He had only so much patience for the other man's stubbornness.
God, some things really didn't change between worlds. "Talk. Now."
“Ow-- Ow!” Eliot protested. He gave Ravi a look but it was without venom. “I was mugged with ninja precision by a prepubescent assassin. I’m pretty sure he teleports. He did a .. leg kick thing and then decked me, that was it. ...Besides the aforementioned taking of my flask. I’m fine, I will handle it myself, can you please help me with the potential black eye already?”
Eliot met Ravi’s eyes. “I’d rather not make it a thing. Small space, plenty of people capable of reducing everything within it to rubble. I will talk to him. ...Also did I mention he probably teleports? I promise I’m not normally this helpless.”
The look he was getting from Eliot was met coolly. He was more than used to them by this point in his timeline. "He teleports, yes. He's also highly trained and doesn't give a shit about most people, so I'm not surprised he decided to jump you when he found out you had alcohol."
Ravi finally turned away, to grab that cold compress and the ointment. When he returned to Eliot, he held up the compression and a tiny tube. "Use the compress now and when you're nice and numb, put some of this on your face. Don't need to work it into your skin, it can sit on top." Once he handed the items off, he nodded at the knee that had clearly been hurt. "Take off your pants. Let's see that knee."
“Nn, I don’t know,” Eliot said. “He seemed to know me from another timeline.” Eliot was used to dealing with emotional first year students and enigmatic magical bullshit. It was why he wanted to talk to Five first, which might not have otherwise been his natural inclination.
Even with a compress blocking a good portion of Eliot’s face, it was obvious that he only barely managed not to quip about taking off his pants for Ravi and wanted to so very, very badly. Instead, he cleared his throat. “Fine.”
Except it was not fine. Goddamn Ravi was unreasonably attractive. Eliot had to set the compress aside to first remove his dress shoes and then unbelted his pants. He removed them carefully, and draped them next to him on the exam room bench. With that done, the compress went back on his face.
Swiftly and without warning, the table was reset so that there was no more incline. Eliot was promptly pushed back so that he was laying flat on his back and Ravi took hold of the leg that had the hurt knee. “Tell me what you’re feeling as I work you through some movements, okay?” He shifted hands up the leg until they were on the knee and he started to press in places, as he asked, “Did you hear a pop when he got you here? Tell me where the pain is the worst.”
There was a brief moment, an interested flash in Eliot’s eye when he found himself shoved down on his back. It was not terribly unlike the way Ravi had let him around during his song and dance routine. Before Eliot could look too interested, Dr. Chakrabarti was back to complete professionalism.
The staff of Brakebills would never. Eliot watched the doctor closely, trying to get a better sense of him. He was at a severe disadvantage, not knowing him, but known to him. Even as he cooperated -- “No, no pop” or “The pain is mostly there” -- he was mostly distracted by watching Ravi work. His knee would likely also be bruised, but nothing serious.
What Eliot wanted to ask was How serious were the two of you? but what came out of his mouth was, “Are you always this bossy?” Just barely testing the waters to see how Ravi took to being teased. Pantless, feeling completely ridiculous with a compress on his face, the good doctor was spared of any real attempts to flirt.
But damn if Eliot didn’t really want to.
“If I wasn’t, all of you would just walk around thinking you can heal like damn super soldiers,” Ravi explained, as he poked and prodded, hemmed and hawed. “Though I do appreciate that you decided to come here instead of rubbing dirt in it and walking off.” Not that this was Eliot’s style...but Ravi honestly had no idea what kind of life this Eliot had lived in comparison to the one that he had known and cared for. And loved?
Yeah, it had been love.
Not that it mattered at this point. “I’m not feeling or hearing anything worrying, so just ice it and you should be fine. You want some acetaminophen for any aches? No heavy drinking with them, of course.”
“Dirt,” Eliot repeated dryly. He was both amused and a little confused. I hoped his alternate self would only use the finest, top shelf dirt if that was what the good doctor was referencing. Sitting up, Eliot reached for his trousers to pull them back on before going for his fine leather shoes.
The temptation to ask or simply steal something heavier than tylenol was a constant in the back of Eliot’s mind, which today he felt good enough to acknowledge and move on without acting on. He would always be an addict, even if he stopped acting on his worst impulses.
He watched Ravi carefully, before looking back down at himself and standing to make sure he was back to his regular polished, if not slightly more drab, self. “If I thought about putting together a sort of welcoming committee for new arrivals,” Eliot started in a completely innocent fashion, “would you be interested in helping? Given your experience being on other worlds and everything…”
And a convenient excuse to spend more time with and get to know Ravi…. Eliot cleared his throat.
Busying himself with putting a little medicinal goody bag together for Eliot - ointment, a couple of ice packs, and some generic versions of Tylenol - he was glad he wasn’t looking at Eliot when he snorted. He probably would have come off meaner than he would have intended, he was just feeling very raw about the whole situation now that he didn’t have something to busy himself with.
“Not sure how I could help, really. My expertise lies in, essentially, not knowing what’s next and just mentally preparing for that. I don’t think that’s going to be of any comfort to anyone.” Because any time he thought he had a handle on things, they were flipped upside down once more. And he didn’t even have the comfort that came with having someone he knew and knew him back around.
Five didn’t count.
Eliot attempted to tighten his lips to hide the concerned frown that wanted to form on his face. He could not, however, stop his eyes from betraying his feelings. Concern for Ravi, but there were less charitable thoughts about not being able to compete with himself, or, the depressing thought that somewhere another Eliot out there had just yet another boyfriend.
“Of course,” he said, deciding not to push. He took the small bag of goodies for his eye and started to leave, thinking he should say something to Ravi. When he paused in the doorway, that was when the strum of guitars started.
This wasn’t the twangy Garth Brooks his shitty abusive father favored. No. This was worse. Eliot recognized that opening music anywhere. This was Jessica Simpson, her severely underrated country album he loved, and had been determined to take that secret with him to the grave.
Fuck.
Eliot tossed the bag of medical supplies back on the bench and turned to face Ravi. If he was going to do this, he wasn’t going to fight it or half ass it, singing, “Leave your dishes in the sink, leavy the ice cubes in your drink… Just come on over. Leave your coat behind the door, leave your laundry on the floor… Just come on over.”
Why shouldn’t the two of them be allowed to find just an ounce of comfort in each other? And if they couldn’t admit it in words, Eliot was more than happy to admit in song-- ”I need you now, I need you bad. I need you, baby, looking just like that. Don’t pack your bag, don’t make me wait. I wanna kiss that smile that’s on your face. I need you wrapped up in these arms, I want you just the way you are. Come on over.”
Naturally, there were also moves to go with the song.
After having handed the bag off, he had kept busy by pulling out a new table sheet for the next patient and disposing of the old one. Not that anything too exciting has happened lately to warrant keeping this place so well kept. But it was better to be prepared than not and it was better to avoid Eliot than to keep up any nervous chatter that tended to seep in when he had nothing to occupy his hands or a purpose.
Except...that damn music.
He didn’t recognize it, the song. Jessica Simpson was bigger back when he was still in England and country, even pop-country, had never really been his thing. But he did recognize that music was coming from nowhere and that they were in for yet another show.
Starring Eliot. Just Eliot and him. Oh God, could he run away?
Except he was frozen to the spot as he listened to Eliot sing and groove in a way that pulled at his heartstrings. His brain said back away, but he could barely lift a finger, let alone his feet. So he stayed silent, staring and unable to run away from whatever was coming.
Eliot stepped in close, leaning in to sing close in Ravi’s ear, ”Baseball cap and torn-up jeans, a pair of flip-flops on your feet… Just come on over.” His fingers snapped at the delightful band of Ravi’s pajama pants, which he enjoyed seeing on Ravi more than he was willing to comment publicly on.
He only pulled away so there was enough distance between their faces so Eliot could stare into his eyes directly. ”Don’t slow down, don’t stop for gas, keep those four wheels spinning fast… Just come on over.”
Eliot took Ravi by the hands, pulling him gently toward the exit with him, his body swaying to the rhythm in what was dangerously close to line dancing, but not making any real progress on leading him out of the clinic to Eliot’s room. Maybe because it would have cut off the song, and whatever this was wasn’t going to allow for that.
”I need you now, I need you bad. I need you, baby, looking just like that. Don’t pack your bag, don’t make me wait. I wanna kiss that smile that’s on your face. I need you wrapped up in these arms, I want you just the way you are. Come on over.”
They both deserved something nice, didn’t they?
Closing his eyes as Eliot sang into his ear, Ravi willed himself not to react. This…honestly, it felt like a violation. Not because Eliot was trying to make him uncomfortable, but the fact that what was happening now, what had happened when Janet had come on...it wasn't of their own doing. They hadn't made the choice to speak on their desires through song and dance. No matter how much Ravi missed his boyfriend, he would have never been so bold with this alternate version of him. And Eliot...this Eliot didn’t even know him. How was this fair to him?
And that was why he was so tense, so uncomfortable. He let himself be led, but the moment, he saw the exit, he dug his feet in and shook his head. Breaking the moment with his own doubts, hesitations, and insecurities, he said, “No. I can’t.”
The energy that kept them in the song skipped like a record snatch. Eliot winced, feeling it travel irritatingly up his spine without harm, before it was released. It took him a second to register what happened, and in his surprise, he wasn’t able to mask the way his face fell.
Eliot took a step back, and looked away. Thankfully, the grab bag of take home medical supplies provided him with an excuse. Black eye, singing country, he felt like a mess. “I’m so sorry. Of course, you’re right.” He just needed the extra seconds to master his composure, exhaling. “This is probably very uncanny valley for you.” By the time Eliot turned to face the doctor, he had steeled himself for any reaction from Ravi.
Ravi wanted to make excuses, say it wasn’t Eliot, it was him, but it would sort of be a lie, wouldn’t it? Because it was Eliot...or rather, a lack of the right memories. Those, that, was what made someone fall in love, right? A series of shared events and feelings. “It’s not the strangest thing to happen to me?” Ravi explained, trying for light and failing to achieve that deliberate easiness.
But one thing that wouldn’t be a lie was the following, “I’m sorry. I know you didn’t ask for this situation. But we can just ignore all of this, yes? It doesn’t have to be weird.”
Eliot smiled, because he was a better liar, “Me neither.” But as a magician, strange was relative. It wasn’t the strangest thing to happen to him. There were other words that might have been a better fit, but it was better not to name what he was feeling.
So he nodded his head, “Of course, Doctor.” Formal. Unfamiliar. Eliot conveniently had an ice pack to return to half of his face, which made it somehow easier to pretend neither one of them had literally sung their desires to one another. “You didn’t ask for this situation, either. I should go.”
Biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself from trying to oversoothe Eliot at the moment, Ravi nodded. Professional. Clinical. They were basically strangers, right? He could do that. “Of course. Check back in if your eye or knee gives you any problems after a couple of days.” He stepped over to the door, to open it for Eliot to leave. “Goodbye, Professor Waugh.”
Eliot refused to limp as he walked back to his dorm.