Who? Chuck and Jo What? Chuck is a woman. OMG. Where? Roadhouse, apartment, bedroom/bathroom When? Backdated to last night at midnight! Rating? Probably not high.
Jo was sick. It wasn’t something super serious (or that’s what she told him, she said there were risks but it wasn’t like she was actively dying, and everything he’d read online seemed to agree) so he was trying to remain calm about it - mostly because he knew him stressing out would only stress Jo out, which would make the problem worse, and that was obviously pretty much the last thing Chuck wanted, at this point, thanks. So, basically, he was hovering and making sure she rested and writing whenever she was asleep so he could still make his deadline.
He still felt on-edge from more than just that unease, too - the lingering memories and occasional flashes of what had happened (was happening) to Adam in hell was enough to have him hardly sleeping, throwing himself into words on a page and into making sure everything was totally okay for Jo, at least as far as he could. He wasn’t exactly the best at all of this under normal circumstances, so ...yeah, right now he was kind of mostly just spending his time trying to pretend he had ever been a functional adult, or something.
Well, no, right now he was sitting in bed, typing quietly as possible and trying to keep the angle of the laptop just-so, so the light from the screen wouldn’t disturb Jo’s sleep. He had another three thousand words he was supposed to have finished tonight, if he was following his weekly goal plan, and hours to kill because sleep was unlikely to be an option...
...huh. That was weird. Chuck held one hand up slightly, off the keyboard, turning it over in the blue-white light from the laptop’s screen. His hand looked smaller, fingers shorter and thinner than usual. That was weird. Also weird was the long strands of hair that fell across his eyes when he tilted his head to examine his weirdly small hand, because, okay, he kind of needed a haircut but not that badly. He was pretty sure his hair had never been that long bef-
Oh shit. Reaching to touch the hair, his arm brushed against something, which ... apparently was himself. His chest, which now apparently featured boobs, holy crap what the hell was going on?
Suddenly no longer concerned with being quiet and still, Chuck practically threw himself out of bed with a muffled yelping sound, intent on rushing to the bathroom mirror to see for himself what was happening. He didn’t really make it that far before he tripped and landed on his face, because apparently his baggy pajama bottoms had become even more baggy when he’d TURNED INTO A WOMAN shrunk, and they tangled at his ankles and sent him to the floor. He dragged them up as he pushed himself halfway up and practically crawled into the bathrom, using the counter to pull himself the rest of the way to his feet.
For a moment he stood in the dark with his hand on the light switch, trying to breathe and telling himself that no matter what he saw in the mirror, it didn’t matter, because he was dreaming. When the light came on he was going to wake up and be in bed, or he’d just see his own reflection. The light switch was where it always was, and no he didn’t have to reach a little higher than he was used to, that was just his imagination.
The light came on, and Chuck stared at his reflection for a long moment before he let out what was officially the most alarmingly female scream ever to come out of his throat...
...which made sense, actually, because he was a woman now.