ELIOT WAUGH + OUIJA BOARD
PG-13 (language) | NARRATIVE
SPOILERS FOR SEASON 3
There was something mildly amusing about a Magician waking up with a Ouija board, and Eliot snorted first thing, hand over his face. “Fuck.” He was sober, at least, and there was something a little strange about waking up with a clear head. But there was this fucking cliche board, haunting him.
He wanted to ignore it, to just get up and go take a shower, finish moving his stuff from his house to this new, nearly empty one. He even got as far as swinging his legs over the edge of the bed before being pulled back.
“Fuck- Fine, you needy bitch, daddy’s here.” Eliot reached over grab the board, half debating tossing it in the trash. Instead, he found his hands lovingly skimming over the board, the planchette falling under his fingers easily.
He didn’t know what he expected, but P-A-P-A wasn’t it. Eliot sucked in a breath, his fingers pulling back on their own. Fray called him “dad”, if not “Eliot”, papa had been reserved elsewhere.
To say he’d been suppressing Fillory memories was an understatement. He’d talked a little about it, to Ian and Penny, because they were both the type of assholes that cared (even if Penny would deny it), but he hadn’t said a fucking word to Margo, or Quentin or anybody fucking else just by pure desire to ignore it.
“Okay, so I wasn’t going for daddy literally, satan-board.” He muttered under it’s breath, but the planchette was already moving again on it’s own accord. He was probably being fucked with, this world and it’s magic, but his damn eyes still took in each and every letter. Y-O-U-R-E__ D-O-I-N-G __G-R-E-A-T
Now, Eliot was pinching the bridge of his nose. “A fucking self-motivational meme, fantastic.”
D-O-N-T__ B-E__ A-N__ I-D-I-O-T “Oh.” Eliot had the grace to look a little offended. “Fen?” Y-O-U __A-N-D____ F-R-E-Y__ N-E-E-D__ E-A-C-H__ O-T-H-E-R Fen never called him daddy, even if she did know he was an idiot, which made his eyebrows uncrease a little. L-O-V-E__Y-O-U “Um,” T
Oh.
Eliot waited for it to go on, for T to maybe spell out “THE WIFE” or something. Anything that might have amounted to “surprise!”
An entire lifetime, a family. Years spent in Fillory, growing old with someone that was important to him. Raising a child with him. That maturity, that sense of age and wisdom, it was still there, somewhere buried deep. Having those memories of living a life he technically didn’t live, and not having a person here that remembered that with him as his entire reasoning for the booze and forgetting early on.
But now he had to be better. Now, he had to be the kind of papa he had been with Ted. To grow the fuck up.
Goddamnit, he was so bad at growing up.
Eliot flopped back on the bed for one full minute, staring up at the ceiling, thinking too much. The board was right, and Fray deserved better. She deserved real parents, a real support system, and not just the fucking Fairy Queen using her and tossing her away. But waking up in the morning to pancakes and eggs, being yelled at for not cleaning her room, trying to sneak out at night and getting caught. The shit that every teenager deserved to have.
And he was going to give it to her, even if it made every irresponsible bone in his body ache with the pains of a hundred year old man.
As Eliot stood, he glanced back at the board, and then pressed a kiss to his fingers, which he touched the board with. “Thanks T, I’d tell dad you said hi but I don’t think he’d get it. Maybe when it won’t give him an aneurysm.”
Now he had to make the best damn pancakes Fray ever had.