Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Promise, promise, promise me you’ll write!” Galinda squeals, arms locked tight around Elphie’s middle, face pressed to the back of Elphie’s neck.

“It’s only two weeks, Galinda,” Elphie says, and Galinda can hear the way she’s rolling her eyes, the way she’s halfway smiling, and it makes Galinda squeeze her tighter and repeat:

“Promise me!” 

The docks at Shiz bustle with noise and movement, as almost the entirety of the student body prepares to travel elsewhere for their springtime holiday. 

Elphaba turns around in Galinda’s arms and there is that sweet smile, pulling up ever-so-slightly more at the left corner than the right. She’s got a daisy behind her ear that Galinda placed there just this morning, and the sunlight turns those lovely golden-green eyes of hers greener than sea glass, greener than clover, greener than her own lovely skin. Her hands, steady, grounding, grip Glinda’s elbows. 

“I promise I will write,” Elphaba enunciates, and Galinda beams. Elphaba pokes her one dimple.

“Elphaba Thropp!” someone—a male voice—calls through the crowd, and Elphie’s sweet smile dims just a touch, transforms into almost a wince. “Quit dawdling! Come help your sister with her things.”

“And that’s my cue,” Elphaba mumbles, and pulls herself away from Galinda. 

“Wait, Elphie—” 

But Elphaba’s already slipping away through the crowd, moving like a fish through water. Galinda follows, but finds herself rebuffed by the tight knots of her fellow students exchanging their goodbyes, farewells, and see-you-soons. 

Galinda fights her way through—not afraid to swing a few elbows. She’s not losing her chance at a proper parting with her girlfriend.

She has to hop up on the tips of her toes to peek over the heads of her fellow students. It takes a moment of scanning the crowd before she spots all that lovely emerald skin again, microbraids tied back in a ponytail with a white ribbon, black lace over freckly green shoulders. A dress Glinda had to coax and cajole her into buying because it falls only to her knees and has only sheer lace for sleeves, and so exposes far more green than Elphie usually prefers, but that makes her look utterly fetching. Beside Elphaba, she spots Nessa, resplendent in a red, white, and gold sundress with her wild curls pinned back from her face with sparkly pins and a bouquet of poppies (no doubt from Boq) in her lap. 

And then she sees him.

Him. 

Galinda narrows her eyes. 

The Governor.

He dotes over Nessarose, fusses at her like she’s some sort of tiny child in a stroller rather than a grown girl of eighteen, and Nessa simultaneously giggles and shies away while Elphaba singlehandedly hauls Nessa’s luggage onto their little skiff. Oh, Galinda hates him so much! Governor Thropp starts to push Nessa’s wheelchair towards a little ramp, and at the same time, Nessa and Elphaba both speak:

“Father, I can do it myself.”

“Father, let her do it.” 

Their father shoots a poisonous look in Elphaba’s direction and snaps something at her that Galinda can’t quite make out. To her credit, Elphaba hardly appears to pay it all that much mind, but Galinda does watch frustration and exhaustion mar that perfect, wonderful face of hers. Elphie’s hand drifts to the daisy behind her ear and touches it ever so gently, like she’d only just been reminded it was there.

Its petals match the white ribbon in her hair so wonderfully, Galinda thinks. 

The distraction gives Nessa an opening, and she’s already halfway down the ramp by the time Governor Thropp realizes. He jogs to catch up to her, leaving Elphaba to roll her eyes and go for that one last piece of luggage.

And now is Galinda’s chance. She dives through a throng of students, stumbling on the cobblestones in her heels, and lands directly back in Elphaba’s arms.

“Whoa!” Elphie says, catching her by the waist. “Hi, again.” 

“You didn’t say goodbye,” Galinda chastizes, gripping Elphaba’s shoulders. “Or even farewell.” 

“Did I not?” Elphaba asks. 

“Elphaba, let’s go! Now,” Governor Thropp calls, and Galinda can feel Elphie’s tension under her hands. She squeezes Elphaba’s shoulders sympathetically. 

“That’s—I have to—” Elphie stammers. Even as she looks over her shoulder at the boat, her fingers tighten on Galinda’s waist.

“Yes, of course,” Galinda breathes. “Farewell, Elphie.” 

Elphaba lets her go, but tugs playfully on the end of one of her pigtails. “See you soon, my sweet.” 

“Elphaba, now!” 

Elphaba rolls her eyes and picks up Nessarose’s remaining valise, and Galinda just can’t resist—she grabs Elphaba’s free hand and yanks her back to plant a big kiss on her cheek. “Oh, I’m going to miss you so much,” Galinda whines, and clings to Elphie’s arm. “What will I ever do without you? How will I manage?” Elphaba flushes a deep jade, gently extricating herself from Galinda and laughing. 

“You’re going to get me in trouble,” Elphaba tells her. “I have to go.” 

Elphaba boards the boat with Nessa’s last piece of luggage, and her father whispers something harshly that makes her flinch and scowl. Galinda’s eyes narrow at the man, and the boat pushes off from the dock.

Galinda strides alongside it as they make their way out. 

“I’m serious—promise me you’ll write the second you make it home safely,” she calls to Elphaba. Elphaba’s eyes light up, and so do Nessa’s, although their father pins Galinda with a guardedly hostile, wary glance. It seems he remembers her, too, and is just as confused about her as he was the last time. “If I don’t have a letter in my hands by tomorrow afternoon, I’m coming to Munchkinland myself to find you and dragging you back to Frottica with me!” 

“I’ll write,” Elphaba calls back. Nessa grabs Elphaba’s hand.

“I’ll make sure she does!” Nessa shouts. “And I’ll write, too!”

“Promise me!” Galinda says. 

“We promise!” Elphaba and Nessa yell back in unison. 

“Farewell, Galinda! Safe travels to you, too!” Nessarose has to nearly scream to be heard now over the water and the deafening student chatter, but her ensuing giggle carries, somehow, easily on the breeze. Galinda smiles, heart thrumming in her chest. 

“They’re gonna miss me so much,” Galinda murmurs to herself, resting a hand over her heart. 

“You’re going to be late!” And then she’s being lifted up from behind, twirled through the air and set back down, and she screams even though she knows exactly who it is. 

“Fiyero!” she whips around and smacks him on the arm, though they’re both laughing. 

“Couldn’t let you get hypnotized by the sight of lovely Elphaba disappearing over the horizon,” he tells her simply. “Not when Frottica needs its crown jewel returned.”

She gives him a coy toss of her hair. “Don’t tell me you’ve never found yourself bewitched by a beautiful woman before, Fiyero, I know you too well.” 

He looks her up and down with a little smile. “As we speak,” he says.

“Incorrigible,” she tells him, smacking his chest, and he offers his arm to her.

“Come now. What kind of prince would I be if I didn’t escort the lovely lady to her boat?”

Galinda places her dainty hand on his arm and lets him.

This is the thing that she liked about Fiyero, she’s realized in the months since their breakup. Likes, still: the banter, the games, the playful back-and-forth. She finds that not having him—sliding into the role of friend instead of girlfriend—makes it easier and more fun, rather than less. The pressure slides off this way, the expectation, the concern that any of it means he might want more from her than she wants to give, or vice versa. 

He’s free to flirt just as shamelessly with everyone these days, instead of having to tiptoe on the eggshells of her jealous streak. He’s been using this newfound freedom to fluster Pfannee at every given opportunity, to finagle his way to a better grade in Madame Greyling’s class, to grate on Elphaba’s nerves. 

Still, it had hardly been the easiest conversation of Galinda’s life. First, because she didn’t want to break his heart. Then, because his heart wasn’t broken at all. 

He escorts Galinda to the little skiff that will take her out of Shiz and deeper into Gillikin Country, onto which her trunks have already been loaded. 

“You realize you’ll only be gone for two weeks, right?” he asks, eyeing the monumental pile of luggage.

“That’s why I packed only the essentials, dear,” Galinda says, resting a hand on his chest for a moment. “Now, won’t you be a gentleman and help me board this creaky old thing?” 

Fiyero lifts her up by the waist again, her hands braced against his shoulders, and deposits her gently in the little skiff. She wobbles only a teensy bit before she gets her legs under her and he lets her go. 

“This isn’t goodbye,” she tells him serenely, fluttering her long lashes at him, “it’s farewell.” 

“I’ll see you soon, Galinda,” he says with one more cheeky wink. As her boat begins to pull away from the dock, Fiyero turns, and she hears him call out, “Why, Miss Shenshen, Mister Pfannee, you two surely weren’t about to depart without bidding me farewell! My heart couldn’t take it,” and hears Pfannee’s stammered, sputtering, unintelligible reply. 

Galinda clambers up to the highest point she can reach on the little skiff, and waves goodbye to the crowd of students until the boat turns the corner and she’s out of Shiz for the first time in months. 

It’s not the most arduous journey anyone’s ever made, but it does take several hours. It’s a boat, a short train ride, and an even shorter carriage ride before she’s finally approaching her home in Frottica. She presses her face to the window as her carriage rolls through the Pertha Hills, the Upper Uplands. Mount Rouncible rises up far in the distance, hovering over the brightly painted, multicolored rowhouses and canals and cobbled streets of her hometown like some great protector. 

The carriage pulls up to her house—the sunshine yellow mansion on the corner—and Momsie and Momsicle are already waiting out front, Momsie bouncing on the tips of her toes. 

“There she is, there she is!” Momsie is saying still as Galinda opens the door. And then: “Sugarplum!”

Galinda takes a deep breath of that Frottica air and finds herself grinning. “There’s no place like home,” she says, and dives into her mothers’ embrace. 

As the house staff take Galinda’s luggage in and up to her room, Momsie is already talking her ear off about the Springtime Ball they’re hosting: “Oh, it’ll be right before you head back to school, but in the meantime, we got you a little surprise—”

“Locasta, we said we were going to surprise her. She was supposed to find it on her own.” 

“What’s the surprise?” Galinda asks. Her mothers exchange a look. 

“Go check your room,” Momsicle says with a sigh, trying not to smile. Galinda takes one more second to glance between the two of them before she’s sprinting up the stairs. 

She flings her bedroom doors open, and—

“OH, OZ!” she screams. And then screams again, wordlessly. 

It’s the most beautific, fabulocious, stunnifying dress she’s ever seen in her life! Sky blue, studded with sparkles, puffy little off-shoulder sleeves like clouds, a corseted bodice with a tiered skirt that falls like flower petals. She takes it off the hanger and screams again, twirling it around, then holds it up to her body, swishing the skirt this way and that. 

Her mothers materialize, bemused, in her doorway. 

“I take it, you approve?” Momsicle raises an eyebrow. 

Galinda throws the dress down in a heap on top of her bed and jumps to throw her arms around her parents, still squealing. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” she pulls back, looking back and forth between them. “Where did you ever even find such a thing?” 

“That is a secret we’ll be keeping, cupcake,” Momsie tells her, poking the tip of Galinda’s nose. “We don’t need you drying out our bank account all the way.” 

“We’re just happy you like it,” says Momsicle, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of Galinda’s head. “You make us so proud. And we thought you ought to have something nice to debut at Momsie’s ball.” 

“You’re the best,” Galinda gushes, and pulls her mothers back in for another hug. 

“I think we did good,” Momsie says. 

“Did well,” Momsicle corrects. 

And that reminds Galinda—

“Oh!” she gasps, straightening up. “Oh, I must write to Elphie at once! She’ll want to know all about this. I’m sure she’ll be waiting to hear from me.” She immediately starts digging through one of her trunks for stationary and ink, then turns to her mothers. “There haven’t been any letters from her, have there?” 

“Darling, you all left this morning,” Momsicle says, clearly biting back a laugh, which Galinda does not appreciate. She enters the room, carefully placing the gorgeous gown back on its hanger so it doesn’t wrinkle on top of Galinda’s bedspread. 

“Yes, I know, but she promised me she’d write immedi-ishly. And her sister swore to me she’d make sure she did,” Galinda says, rummaging through her desk for one of her fine blown glass dip pens. She turns to her mothers again. “How long does it take to get post from Munchkinland, anyway?” 

“If she sent you a letter today, it should be here by tomorrow,” Momsicle soothes.

“Tomorrow?” Galinda whines.

“I know, it’s just awful,” Momsie laments. “Having to spend time with your poor old parents instead of poring over your little girlfriend’s letters.” 

Galinda gives her an unimpressed look, and Momsie pokes her nose again. 

“Well, all the more reason for me to start writing now,” Galinda decides. “So she has something to brighten her day tomorrow.”

Galinda’s parents exchange a look. 

“We’ll be downstairs as soon as you’re done,” Momsicle declares with a sigh. 

Galinda selects an ink of deep midnight blue with just the faintest sparkle to it, and begins writing:

Dearest, darlingest Elphie…

The second the mail comes, Galinda dives on it. 

She leaves a trail of letters to her mothers behind her as she sifts through envelopes, tossing aside anything that’s not addressed to her, until she finally reaches it. 

To Miss Galinda A. Upland

c/o Frottica, Pertha Hills, Gillikin

It’s postmarked from Nest Hardings in Munckinland, and Galinda holds the letter to her heart for a moment, dropping everything else to the floor. Thank Oz. She lifts the paper to her nose, like she might be able to catch a whiff of Elphie on it, and is a little disappointed when she doesn’t (she had helpfully spritzed a bit of her favorite perfume on her letter to Elphie—she’s thoughtful like that). She bolts up the stairs and back to her room before tearing through the wax seal.

My dear Galinda, it begins.

She devours the letter once, and then again, finding herself frowning and pouting through most of it. Elphaba says these things, like Everything is just as I remembered it and I have so much time to read and Father is so fixated on Nessa’s birthday at the end of the week that I can slip away unnoticed whenever I please that she’s clearly trying to frame as positives, but that leave Galinda feeling so overwhelmingly sad. It’s only been a day, and this letter already aches of loneliness and neglect. 

The real kicker is how Elphaba chooses to finish the whole thing off:

I know it’s probably silly to miss you already, but I’ve gotten so used to having you with me, I find I don’t know what to do with myself when I’m alone now, so I do miss you. Quite terribly, in fact. Although I very much hope you’re too busy enjoying your home and your family to be missing me quite so strongly in return.

With all my affection,

Elphaba Thropp

It leaves her with a longing that hurts, deep in her diaphragm and in between her ribs. She wants her Elphie here, with her, where she can actually enjoy her holiday. And, barring that, she wants to be there, easing the burden.

She immediately pens a letter back, short and to the point:

Come to Frottica. Please. I’ll pay the train fare. Just come.  

The day after next, she receives a deeply upsetting response:

I would, my sweet. I truly wish I could. But Father would never allow it—I must at very least stay here for Nessarose’s birthday this weekend, and I’m expected to attend to her and help her for the rest of the holiday, too.

Help? Help Nessarose? Nessarose, who shirks every offer of help back at Shiz? It’s not as though Galinda’s completely ignorant, she’s aware Nessarose needs a helping hand every now and again, but to bind Elphie to that house to answer to Nessa’s every beck and call seems… Well. Absurd. And in a house no doubt staffed? And even if it weren’t—can the Governor not help his so-called darling daughter in a pinch? 

Galinda’s packing a valise before she’s even thinking about what she’s doing. 

Momsicle drifts into her open doorway, crossing her arms and surveying Galinda for a beat. 

“Where are you going?” she finally asks, watching with amusement as Galinda deliberates between the tea rose and the blush blouses before electing to just pack both. 

“Nest Hardings,” Galinda answers, no-nonsense. “In Munchkinland. I’ll take the train this afternoon.” 

“Alright,” Momsicle says, coming into the room and sitting herself down on the edge of Galinda’s bed. She’s clearly not taking Galinda very seriously. “And what might be in Nest Hardings?” 

“Elphaba,” Galinda says. 

“Ah.” Momsicle smiles. “I see.” 

Galinda tries to shut the bag, but meets considerable resistance. She frowns. 

“She needs me, Momsicle,” Galinda says, throwing some weight into it now. “I have to go.” 

Momsicle seems to sober a bit, realizing that Galinda means it and isn’t just throwing a funny little fit. 

“Darling, I know you worry about her, and I know how deeply you care about her,” Momsicle says, “but I imagine she knows how to handle her own family for a couple weeks.” 

“She’s miserable, though,” Galinda insists, turning to her mother. She sits down on top of her suitcase, and only then is she able to force it shut. 

“I know when you love someone—”

“Momsicle!”

“—When you love someone,” Momsicle repeats with emphasis, leveling a be-quiet stare at Galinda that immediately puts her in her place, “you want to be their hero whenever you can. But part of being in a healthy relationship is realizing that you can’t save them from everything. Sometimes people have to save themselves.” 

Galinda is quiet for a moment, considering. Her lips twist to the side.

“I don’t think I can save Elphie from everything,” Galinda says, “but I can save her from this.” 

She and Momsicle meet eyes, and Momsicle comes to a conclusion:

“You’re serious about this.” 

“Definishly.” 

“It will break your mother’s heart if you miss her big party,” Momsicle scolds, and damn, she does have Galinda there. Plus, Galinda’s just dying to wear that dress. “I mean it, Galinda, she’s been looking forward to this Springtime Ball since autumn. She’ll be inconsolable.”

“Elphie’s sister’s birthday is two days from now,” Galinda says. “We’ll stay through Nessa’s birthday, and then come back the next day. That’ll give us a full week here, and we won’t miss Momsie’s party.” 

“Do you swear to me you won’t miss it?” Momsicle presses. 

“I swear I won’t miss it,” Galinda promises, breathless. Momsicle’s really going to let her do this?

Momsicle must read the question on her face, in her eyebrows, because she says, “You’re nineteen. I couldn’t stop you if I wanted to. Better to have you go peacefully than with a fight.” 

Galinda’s face lights up. She squeals and wraps her mother in a hug, and Momsicle rubs Galinda’s shoulders. 

“But if you miss this party, I will hex every pair of shoes you own, do you understand me? You will never have a good hair day again.” 

“Yes, I understand,” Galinda says. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“Alright, let’s break the news to your mother,” Momsicle sighs. “And then let’s get you on a train.”

It’s a short conversation, and then a short carriage ride to the station. Galinda kisses her mothers goodbye on the platform with promises, promises, promises to be back in just a few days. She boards the train with the setting sun and finds a seat where she can stretch out her legs and lean her head against the window and doze. 

The train rumbles through the night, and Galinda falls asleep for a good portion of it. When she wakes, they’re definitively out of Gillikin and crossing over into Munchkinland, and Glinda perks up with a gasp at the change of scenery.

Gone is the sublime nature of Gillikin—all its mountains and rivers and Great Gillikin Forest—and in its place are endless gentle rolling hills. Miles of golden grain rippling like water, followed by miles of bright poppies in every direction. Corn and tulips. Verdant fields. Little villages—collections of limewash houses with tall thatched roofs, bright flowers woven into the thatching. 

She’s never been to Munchkinland before, and she’s astonished by its beauty. 

By the time they reach Nest Hardings, she’s been on the train for almost a full day, and it’s late into the afternoon. The town itself is charming and quaint—rather quiet—and she finds a carriage to take her to the Governor’s Mansion—Colwen Grounds—a little ways outside of town easily enough. The cabbie chats to her through the little open window:

“All the way from Gillikin, huh?” 

“Yes, sir.”

“Long journey, as I understand it.”

“Oh, yes.” 

“What brings you all the way out here, then?” 

“I’m a good friend of the Thropp sisters,” she says proudly. “We all attend Shiz together. Elphaba’s my roommate.” 

At this, the cabbie just goes, “Huh,” and falls silent. 

Well, that’s fine. Galinda’s entirely tuckered out from her travels, anyway. 

He drops her off at the end of a long pathway leading up to Colwen Grounds. The lawn is sprawling and impossibly green, bushes bursting with flowers in every hue, and the house beyond is vine-draped and charming. It’s a riot of color. Galinda can picture a little Elphaba and Nessarose playing in the gardens, or reading together on the front porch. For all the awfulness of Elphie’s childhood, it looks like a beautiful place to grow up. 

Galinda squares her shoulders and, swinging her suitcase, marches her way up the drive. 

She raps her knuckles against the front door and steps back. 

She hears rustling on the other side, and when the door opens, she jolts in shock to be greeted by a bespectacled Wolf. 

“I—I’m sorry, I may have the wrong address,” Galinda immediately starts rambling. “It’s just, I was told this was the Governor’s Mansion. I’m looking for the Thropp family—Elphaba Thropp. She’s a good friend of mine, you see, and I’ve come a very long way—”

And then her voice. Her warm, lovely, familiar voice.

“Galinda?”

Elphaba steps into the doorframe beside the Wolf, who steps back. Elphie leans out the door, looking in every direction like this is some sort of trick before settling her gaze back on Galinda. “What in Oz’s name are you doing here?”

Galinda finds herself blushing suddenly. “I got your letters,” she explains. “You sounded lonely.” 

And then Elphaba’s wrapping her up in a storybook hug, spinning her so her legs lift off the ground. “You’re ridiculous,” she whispers fiercely, all fondness, and Galinda giggles and squeals. She sets Galinda down, holds her at arms’ length to look at her but hangs onto her so she can’t go any further. “You came all the way from Frottica? How in Oz’s name did you get here? How long did you have to travel? What—? How?” 

“The train,” Galinda says simply. “It took me through the night, but oh, it wasn’t so bad. The scenery was beautiful.” 

“Oz, you must be exhausticified,” Elphie laments. “We—I had no idea you were coming. There’s no guest room prepared.” 

“I can start putting together—” the Wolf says, and Galinda realizes suddenly—feeling foolish—that she must be a maid.

“Oh, that’s alright, Miss. Can’t I just sleep in your room, Elphie?” Galinda asks Elphie, whiny, sounding a little like she’s begging. Probably because she is. Elphaba sighs. 

“Miss Howell, Galinda can stay with me for the time being. If my Father has a problem with her sharing my room, then we can have a guest room prepared, but for right now, I think we should be okay. Thank you, though.” 

The Wolf—Miss Howell—bows her head and scurries off.

“Thank you!” Galinda calls after her, a little delayed. 

“Come on, sweet,” Elphaba says, pulling Galinda through the foyer. “Let me take that.” She eases Galinda’s bag from her hands while Galinda takes in every detail about the house that she can: beautiful and welcoming, on the surface. Pointed arches and frescoed walls, stained glass and hardwood floors. Spacious and warm all at once, with sunlight spilling through massive windows, pooling in every corner and chasing out shadows. So many windows, in fact, that it’s easy to forget there’s even walls. Vases filled with flowers perch on every table. There’s a piano in one of the dens, and Galinda finds herself wondering momentarily if Elphie ever learned how to play. 

Galinda must be more tired than she initially thought, because the moment they reach Elphaba’s bedroom, she finds herself collapsing onto Elphaba’s bed with a hand flung across her forehead and a heavy sigh that even she can admit is a bit dramatical. When she peeks open an eye, Elphie is standing over her with her hands on her hips, holding back a laugh and looking as fond as Galinda’s ever seen her. Galinda perks up, pushing herself back to sitting. 

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Elphaba says. 

“Where else would I be?” Galinda asks, quirking an eyebrow. 

“At home.” Elphie laughs. 

“Come here,” Galinda says, reaching for her. “I’ve missed you something awful.” 

“It’s been four days,” Elphaba reminds her. Yes, and? Galinda thinks. She wiggles her fingers like she’s casting a little spell, and Elphaba takes her hands, bespelled, allowing herself to be yanked down onto the bed beside Galinda. 

For a long moment, they just stare at each other. Galinda catalogues Elphie’s face: her slightly askew glasses, her slightly open mouth, the concerned little tilt of her eyebrows. 

She pulls Elphaba into her and kisses her. Fast, a little needy. One hand cups Elphie’s jaw, the other digs nails into her back. One leg comes up to frame Elphie’s hip, and she presses closer and closer until their bodies are flush. Elphie’s giggle breaks the kiss. 

“Easy, sweetheart,” Elphaba soothes, stroking Galinda’s hair. “I’m not going anywhere. Nobody’s trying to snatch me away. You can relax.” 

Galinda flushes. Sweetheart and their proximity makes her feel a little dizzy, even lying down. Hot pressure blooms in the bowl of her hips, low in her stomach. Galinda takes a measured breath, and then another, and then a third before she leans back in to kiss Elphaba again, slower this time. 

Elphie sighs into her mouth, “That’s it,” and Galinda can’t help digging her nails in a little harder.

They kiss on Elphaba’s bed until Galinda no longer has to force herself to go slow, until she’s going slow all on her own and her hands get lazy and her eyes stay shut longer and longer between kisses. Something hot and frictive is smoldering between them despite the slow pace, or maybe because of it, and Galinda wants to keep chasing it and chasing it until it burns.

“You’re tired,” Elphie observes, drawing back. “You should rest.” 

“Stay with me,” Galinda says, trying to hold onto her. 

“Someone has to tell my father that you’re here,” Elphaba points out. 

“Must they?” Galinda fusses. Her hands roam Elphie’s body over her clothes, trying to pulls her closer, closer. “Can’t I be your little secret? You can hide me away in here, and he’d never have to know. We could sneak around like teenagers…” 

“You are a teenager.” Elphaba grabs her wandering hands.

“Only technically,” Galinda argues, immediately offended. “And hardly. I’m as grown as you are, Elphie! You’re only a year older than me—”

“Year and a half,” Elphie interrupts. 

“Elphie,” Galinda whines, “you’re distractifying me! It’s not nice. I want you to stay.” 

Elphaba kisses her on the forehead, then the bridge of her nose, then her lips again. Galinda tries to keep her there, but Elphie moves away again. 

“I have to tell my father that you’re here,” Elphaba repeats. “It’s probably better that you don’t come with me when I do. So stay, rest—take a nap. I’ll be back.” 

Galinda pouts furiously, but lets Elphie go to the tune of one more little kiss to her temple. She shuts her eyes and listens to Elphie pad across the room. Her door creaks fiercely when she opens it, but clicks softly when she shuts it. She opens her eyes again, and Elphie’s gone.

Galinda sighs and rolls onto her back, staring up at Elphaba’s ceiling—dark wood beams criss-crossing cream-colored plaster, painted with green vines and little yellow stars. 

She feels like a little star herself right now: dense, liquid heat sitting deep in the middle of her, radiating out into her limbs, her head, her digits, to leave her flushed and breathless. Her blood is racing, her heart pounding. She closes her eyes again; presses a hand down on her lower belly, right over her hips, and exhales shakily. 

She does nap, against her best intentions, and when she wakes again, Elphaba’s still not back—or perhaps she’d come back and gone again, but either way, she’ll be getting an earful from Galinda later about letting her wake up alone in this strange house. 

Elphaba’s room oddly has no mirror, so Galinda does the best that she can with her hair on feeling alone before tiptoeing out into the hallway. 

“Elphie?” she whispers. No one responds. 

So Galinda goes wandering. She encounters not a soul, and absently wonders where everyone else might be, but finds herself in that den with the piano again. There’s a couch, and a low table, a vase full of lilacs. On the piano sits a metronome and a little framed photograph. She picks up the picture. 

The woman must be Elphaba and Nessarose’s mother, Galinda thinks. Dark eyes, a long tumble of beautiful black curls waterfalling over her shoulder. Nessa perhaps looks more like her than Elphie does—even setting green aside—but Galinda can see her girlfriend in the shape of her jaw, her cheekbones; the placement of her lips. 

It’s the most curious thing, Galinda thinks: the parts of Elphie that don’t come from her mother, of which there are a good many, are not pieces she can spot in her father, either. She looks like neither of them. It’s as if Elphaba selected all her traits entirely on her own.

Well, that would be just like her Elphie, Galinda thinks. She shouldn’t have expected any different. Elphaba Thropp is one of one.  

“And who might you be?” 

Galinda yelps, startles. She puts the picture down quickly and whips around, hand over her pounding heart.

“I—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snoop, I thought…”

A Grizzly Bear stands in the doorway, a serene look on her face. She smiles at Galinda, all warmth. “I didn’t mean to startle you, little one. My apologies.” 

Galinda straightens up, extends a hand to shake the Bear’s… paw? She’s not sure what to do exactly. She’s nothing against Animals, obviously, but she’s never encountered all that many of them in Frottica, nor (barring professors Mombi and Dillamond) at Shiz, either. So is a handshake the done thing, she wonders? But the Bear graciously curls both big paws around Galinda’s hand, accepting the gesture. 

“My name is Galinda,” she says. “I’m a friend of Elphaba’s.” 

“Ah, Fabala’s friend,” the Bear says, with a knowing twinkle in her eye. 

“Fabala?”

“Apologies. An old nickname. Sometimes I forget she’s outgrown it,” says the Bear, and Galinda frowns. She was so sure Elphie’s father said she never had one of those. “Your arrival caused quite the ruckus earlier today. It seems Elphaba had forgotten to inform the Governor that you were coming.” 

Galinda ducks her head, a twinge of shame pricking like a thorn. She wants to tell the Bear that it’s fine to keep calling her Fabala. And she hadn’t meant to get Elphaba in trouble. “That’s my fault. I’d forgotten to inform Elphaba that I was coming. I was something of a surprise.” 

“Hm,” says the Bear, dropping Galinda’s hand. “Well, she seems rather pleased to have you here, regardless.”

Galinda’s lips twitch into a little smile, halfway against her will. “Can you tell me where I might find her?” 

“She’ll be in the library,” the Bear tells her, and motions for Galinda to follow her as she walks. “Most of the time, she’ll be in the library. That girl has had her nose in a book since the minute she could read. Although I think she’s been avoiding her room since you arrived—she did say she wanted to let you rest, as you’d traveled far. She tells me you’re from Gillikin.” 

“Yes, Miss,” Galinda says, jogging to keep pace. “Frottica.” 

The Bear whistles. “That is far. You came here all the way from the Upper Uplands?” 

“It’s not so bad,” Galinda says. “The views from the train are most beauticious.” 

“I don’t doubt it,” says the Bear, a warm rumble deep in her chest. “You must care for her very deeply, to have come all this way.” 

Galinda flushes. “Well, yes, she’s…” She rests a hand on her cheek, feeling the heat radiating. “I’d go just about anywhere for Elphie.” 

“Elphie,” the Bear repeats, and Galinda remembers how Elphaba’s father had scorned that particular nickname, and braces herself. Instead, the Bear goes, “You’re a sweet little thing, aren’t you? I can see why she likes you.” She stops in front of a wooden doorway, inlaid with stained glass of bright red flowers. She motions with her head. “She’ll be in there.”

“Thank you most kindly,” Galinda ducks her head. “What was your name, by the way?” 

“Dulcibear,” she says, with a gentle smile. “It’s been lovely to make your acquaintance, Miss Galinda. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you.” 

For all Galinda’s attempts to be quiet, Elphaba’s head still snaps up the moment Galinda walks through the door. She looks tired, drawn. Still, she’s smiling, and she shuts the book she’s reading, marking the page with a finger. 

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Galinda says, although she belies the point by plopping herself down directly in Elphaba’s lap. 

“Feeling rested?” Elphaba asks. 

“Too rested,” Galinda says, slinging her arms around the back of Elphie’s neck. “I woke up all by myself in a strange house. It was so confusifying, Elphie, I’d no clue where I was.” 

“You poor dear,” Elphie says, and Galinda bats her eyelashes, obviously waiting for a kiss. 

Which Elphaba denies her, returning to her reading. The mean, green, wicked thing.  

Galinda snatches the book from Elphie’s hands, and she’s not a complete monster, she does dog-ear the page before shutting it. 

“Hey!” Elphie protests anyway, but Galinda holds the book back and away, out of Elphie’s reach. “Give that back, I was almost done with the chapter!” 

“I travel overnight to see you, and you just ignore and neglectify me?” Galinda fusses, leaning back even further as Elphie stretches for the book. 

“I didn’t ask you to come,” Elphie argues, though there’s no bite. “Be careful.”

“Why, if I didn’t know any better, Miss Elphaba, I’d think you weren’t even happy to see me!” Galinda tips backward a hair further, teasing. She wobbles.

Elphaba’s eyes widen. “Galinda—!”

“If you want this back, you're gonna have to—”

“Watch out!”

With a shrill scream, Galinda loses her balance. She topples backward onto the hardwood floor with a thunk. “Ow!” Elphaba catches her by the waist, and ends up sprawled out on top of her. 

A beat. 

“Oh, Oz,” Galinda says, breathless and blushing and grinning. Elphaba’s hands are hot at her sides, warm breath ghosting over her cheek. 

“I said be careful,” Elphaba chastizes, a hand moving to cradle the back of Galinda’s skull. “You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?” 

“Terribly,” Galinda complains, resting the back of her hand across her forehead. “I might not make it. And wouldn’t you feel just awful for ignoring me then?” 

“Are you okay?” Elphaba’s eyes turn a shade concerned, assessing. 

“I’d be better if you’d just kiss me already, Elphie, how obvious do I have to be?” And without giving Elphaba any more time to mull it over, Galinda is taking Elphaba’s face between her hands and slotting their lips together.

For one glorious tick of the clock, Elphaba is responsive and pliant over her, sighing and kissing back. But Elphaba pulls away abruptly, snatching the book and dusting herself off. 

“Not now, Oz,” she scolds Galinda, looking a little affronted. 

What? 

Galinda’s heart feels a little bruised. 

What was that?  

She sits up, still on the floor, and tries to figure out what to do with herself next. Touches her lip. Stares at Elphaba’s socked feet. She’s never known quite what to do with rejection, having experienced it so rarely. 

And Elphie had just rejected her. The realization ricochets through her skull. 

Elphaba’s heavy sigh, her soft voice: “Don’t cry, Galinda.” 

“I’m not,” Galinda says quickly, and she’s really not, she means it, although her voice comes thicker than she anticipates. And then Elphaba is sliding out of her chair, kneeling in front of her. Gently taking Galinda’s chin between her thumb and forefinger, directing her to look her in the eye. 

“It’s not you, sweet,” Elphaba says. Her knuckles trace down the line of Galinda’s jaw. “Of course it’s not you. You must know that.” 

Galinda swallows. Crosses her arms with a petty huff. “Obviously. You should be so lucky, Elphaba Thropp.” 

“Sweetness,” Elphaba soothes, hands on Galinda’s elbows. “If my father were to walk through that door and catch me kissing you on the floor…” She shakes her head. “We can do whatever we want in my room. But anywhere else we have to be discreet. That wasn’t a no, it was a not right now. Not here.” 

Galinda’s lips quirk, and while it’s not exactly a smile, her dimple pops out of hiding. And apparently Elphaba’s not so cautious, because she does lean forward to press a quick little peck to it, which does make Galinda smile for real. 

“Well, I still could be quite grievously injuriated, or concussified,” Galinda says. “Might be best if you took me back to your room to have a look. For safety’s sake.” 

“Oh, for safety’s sake?” Elphaba teases. Galinda nods. “Well. I do suppose we should take your health and safety seriously.” 

“My thoughts exactly.” Elphaba helps Galinda to her feet, and Galinda dramatically sways into her arms, allowing Elphie to catch her around the waist with a little laugh. “Oh! Oh, dear. You might have to carry me. I’m afraid I may be too weak to make the journey.” 

“I have faith you’ll survive, Miss Galinda,” Elphaba murmurs, close enough to her ear to send an electric zing right through Galinda. She tucks her book under one arm, and offers her other to Galinda. “I’m happy to escort you, though.” 

Galinda places a dainty hand on Elphie’s elbow. “Such a gentleman.” 

Dinner that night is a downright horrendible affair. The Governor is plainly unhappy to see her, which is just as Galinda expected. But Nessarose, too, is acting considerably cold and annoyed towards her. She’s demanding and she’s bitter and she seems an altogether different person than the girl Galinda’s come to know.

Galinda bears the blows of snide comment after mean-spirited joke after backhanded compliment—little barbs at her intelligence, her privilege, her work ethic, her proclivity for pink—without knowing what to make of it. She’s known Nessa just as long as she’s known Elphie, and though she can’t say she knows her quite as well, she’s truly never known her to be mean. She never would have thought she had it in her, even.

For goodness’ sake, their last parting was a giggle, a well-wish, and a promise to write!

It throws her, leaves her unexpectedly floundering. She can parry with an old man she despises all night and feel no two ways about it, but to bite back at her girlfriend’s beloved sister—her own friend, as far as she was aware—feels wrong. 

She studies Nessarose carefully. She wants to figure out where this is coming from. It’s just not like her.

But somewhere after about the fifth or sixth time Nessa says something that makes Galinda flinch, that makes her eyebrows draw together, Elphaba stands, chair scraping back. 

“What is your problem?” she demands. 

“Elphaba, sit down,” the Governor snaps. Elphie, to her credit, ignores him, focused entirely on her sister. 

“You are being cruel to Galinda,” Elphie tells her sister. 

Nessa scoffs. “You’re taking things too seriously. We’re just joking around. Aren’t we, Galinda?” 

Galinda tips her head to the side, eyes narrowing. Trying to get a read on her. “Certainly,” she says, “yes, joking,” and Nessa’s eyes widen in nervousness for a moment. 

What’s your aim? she wonders. 

“Elphaba Thropp,” the Governor growls, slamming his hand down on the table hard enough that the cutlery rattles. “Sit. Down.” 

“Just sit, Elphie,” Galinda says, tugging at Elphaba’s sleeve. Nessa, huffy, fiddles with her napkin in her lap, a high, indignant flush in her cheeks. Elphie sinks back down into her seat, and Nessa’s eyes momentarily shoot to Galinda’s hand, hanging onto her sister’s sweater. Her scowl deepens for a moment; she swallows, clenches her jaw. 

Oh, Galinda realizes it all at once. Jealous. 

Completely and utterly sick with jealousy.

“Father, I think I’ve lost my appetite,” Nessarose announces. “May I be excused?” 

“Of course, my precious flower,” the Governor coos. He tries to reach for her, but she wheels back before he can, hurrying away with her head ducked before anyone else can try to speak to her. The Governor turns a poisonous glare on Elphaba. “Now look what you’ve done,” he snarls. “You’ve upset your sister. And the night before her birthday, no less! You know how hard her birthday is for her, the way she blames herself as if it’s her fault—” 

“She was being intentionally unkind—” Elphaba begins to argue. 

“You and your ditzy little friend couldn’t extend the slightest amount of understanding? Of empathy? On her day?” The Governor goes on. He starts to get choked up: “She thinks she is the reason your mother died, Elphaba, and that every year of her life is another reminder—”

Galinda interrupts: “Ditzy feels a little bit unfair. If I may offer some perspectivism, Mr. Governor, sir—”

“You may not,” he shoots back, turning the full force of his ire on her. “You are an unwelcome, uninvited guest in this house, and the only reason you have a place to sleep tonight is that I’m not such a monster as to toss someone else’s darling daughter out to the streets! How dare you presume you have any right to involve yourself in matters of my family, you spoiled, entitled—”

“Father, enough!” Elphaba shouts, and every plate and cup on the table go soaring sideways, crashing with a spectacular bang into the wall. Galinda screams. Shards sail through the air.

In the silence that follows, Galinda is flabbergasted. The floor is littered with broken glass and china. Food and drink drip down the walls, collect along the baseboards. The Governor looks frightened. 

“L-look at the mess you’ve made,” he tries to scold, but his stammer and the abject fear in his eyes completely undermine any authority he may be trying to exercise. 

But Elphaba, too, looks startled and scared. She backs up a step. “I—I should—”

“Elphie, wait.” Galinda reaches for her, but Elphie evades her grasp. She stumbles back, and races out of the room without another word. 

And then it’s just Galinda and the Governor, standing together in the shattered wreckage of Elphaba’s outburst. 

“I wonder, Governor. Does it ease your conscience?” Galinda asks him after a moment. Frost drips from every word. 

He startles, shakes his head, almost as if he’d forgotten she was there. “Excuse me?” 

“Pretending it was Elphie’s fault that she died,” Galinda says, all biting steel. “Does it make it any easier to live with the fact that it’s yours?” 

He draws in a big breath, puffing out his chest, and his face goes red as a berry. His fists tighten at his sides, hands shaking. “Get out of my sight,” he seethes. 

“Believe me, Governor,” Galinda says with narrowed eyes and a prim, saccharine smile, “it would be my pleasure.” 

She sweeps out of the dining room and down the hall, looking for Elphie. 

She doesn’t find Elphaba in her bedroom, nor in the library. It’s a stroke of luck she runs into Dulcibear, coming out of what must be Nessa’s bedroom. She hears a little gasp and sniffle before the big Bear can ease the door all the way shut, but Galinda doesn’t have all that much sympathy to spare for Nessa right now, so a mean little part of her just thinks, good—she deserves to cry.  

“Miss Dulcibear, ma’am,” Galinda calls, and Dulcibear turns, looking tired and wan and kind. 

“Do you need something, little one?” she asks.

“Oh, no—no, I don’t mean to trouble you. I’m just—” Galinda shrugs; laughs bashfully. “I’m looking for Elphie again. She’s not in her room or the library, and I’m not sure where else to look.” 

“She might be in the gardens,” Dulcibear says. “It seems as though she may have needed a breath of fresh air after dinner. I’d give her some time. Sometimes a moment alone does her some good, after she’s had a little incident.” 

“I understand, I know, I just—I need to make sure,” Galinda says, worry turning her sentences staccato. “She’s okay, I mean. I need to make sure she’s okay.” 

Dulcibear gives her a curious look. “You’re not afraid of her,” she observes.

Galinda snorts. “Afraid? Afraid of who—afraid of Elphie?” She blinks incredulously. “Why ever would I be afraid of Elphie?” 

“Her power frightens…” Dulcibear gestures towards Nessa’s door, glances back down the hallway towards the master bedroom. “Many.” 

“Elphie couldn’t hurt a fly,” Galinda says. 

Dulcibear smiles serenely. “You’re a very special girl, Miss Galinda.” 

“Thank you for saying that,” Galinda gushes. “I happen to think so, too. I’ve been telling my professors that all year, and they just won’t listen to me!” 

Dulcibear chuckles, good-natured and fond and a little bewildered. “Fabala will be in the back gardens. She likes to sit beneath the weeping willow when she doesn’t want anyone to find her.” 

“Thank you, Miss Dulcibear!” Galinda says, and she’s already bounding off as she says it. 

The big bright full moon casts the gardens in a silver glow, and Galinda follows winding paths through the rose bushes and topiaries until she comes to the big, sprawling weeping willow. She pushes her way through the curtain of hanging tendrils and there, as promised, is Elphaba, seated on the ground with her knees pulled up to her chest. 

Galinda takes a seat right next to her, unspeaking. Crickets sing out in the night. A moment’s silence, and then Galinda tips sideways to rest her head on Elphie’s shoulder.

Elphie sighs, more of a harsh, quick exhale than anything. 

Here in the shadows, in the depths of night, Elphaba doesn’t even look green. The moonlight leaches them both of their color. 

“Darling,” Galinda prompts after several long clock-ticks have gone by. “Are you alright?” 

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” Elphaba responds. Not an answer to her question. 

“See what?” Galinda asks, and Elphaba turns to look at her incredulously. “See you use magic? Been there, done that, dearest.” Elphaba blinks. “See you defend my honor? Now that.” And here Galinda leans in close, hand settling on Elphaba’s thigh, “That was something, Miss Elphaba.” 

“I lost my temper,” Elphaba laments. 

“You stood up for me,” Galinda replies, fingers trailing up and down Elphie’s leg.

“I’ve been doing so well, not letting my emotions get the best of me like that,” Elphie sulks. 

“Everybody has their moments.” 

“You could’ve been hurt.” 

At this, Galinda laughs. Elphaba looks offended, and Galinda cups her cheeks. “Elphie. You threw a few dinner plates at a wall. I was hardly in mortal peril.” 

“You don’t understand,” Elphaba grouses. 

“I understand perfectly well,” Galinda insists. She squeezes her way into Elphaba’s lap, forcing her to uncurl a bit. Even in the low light, Galinda can see Elphie’s cheeks darken. She strokes her thumbs over Elphie’s cheekbones. Her heartbeat thrums. “Your family was misbehaving,” Galinda says, “and you were protecting me.” 

“You make it sound like some noble thing,” Elphaba scoffs, rolling her eyes.  

“Felt pretty noble to me. Well, that and temptatious,” Galinda bumps her nose against Elphaba’s, an open invitation to kiss her. Runs her hands through Elphaba’s braids. “You’re my hero, Elphaba Thropp. No one’s ever done that for me before. And I’ve fantasized about it for years now—someone getting all protective over me.” 

“Galinda,” Elphaba sighs, unwinding by another degree. 

“Won’t you please just kiss me already? Am I doing something wrong here? I’m being entirely obvious again, and you’re still not getting it.”

“My sweet,” Elphaba says, hiding a smile, and then she’s drawing Galinda’s lips to hers. 

Galinda sweeps her hands up and down Elphaba’s sides—from her waist to her ribs and back again. Elphie’s hands rest against Galinda’s jaw, her neck. Her nails scrape up into Galinda’s hair, and Galinda moans softly into her mouth. She starts to feel all liquid-melty. That heavy radiant heat low in her gut starts to warm and smolder again. 

“Elphie,” Galinda whimpers against her lips, and directs Elphaba’s hands to her torso, to her breasts. Elphie follows her lead—she’s always so good at following Galinda’s lead. She touches Galinda exactly how she asks to be touched: gentle squeezes, roving hands. 

Galinda’s acting on impulse, not thinking that hard about it when she starts unbuttoning Elphie's blouse, but at this, Elphie grabs her hands and stills her.

“Hang on,” Elphie tells her. She makes sure to press a lingering kiss to Galinda’s lips before she reassures her, “Don't—you don't need to do that, just because I'm upset. Now isn't a good time, anyway.” 

Galinda swallows, nods. Had she done that just because Elphie was upset? She's not sure she was thinking that hard about it, truthfully. She basically has to pry her own hands off the buttons. Elphie’s thumbs massage her palms. 

“Can we go back inside?” Galinda asks. 

It takes Elphie a few ticks to decide. Galinda tries not to look too impatient, but she’s not sure how well she manages it. 

“I promise I won’t let anyone talk to you, if your father or Nessa—” 

“That’s okay,” Elphie cuts her off with that halfway, hidden smile of hers. “Now who’s the protective one?” 

Galinda presses her forehead to Elphie’s. 

“I am sorry about Nessarose, by the way,” Elphie adds. “I’m not sure what’s gotten into her.” 

“She’s angry your beau showed up on the doorstep on her birthday instead of hers,” Galinda says. 

Elphie raises her eyebrows. “She said that?” 

“No,” Galinda says, “but it was obvi-ish.” 

Elphie mutters something about not that obvi-ish, and gently shifts Galinda off her lap so she can stand before pulling Galinda to her feet alongside her. She dusts them both off, giving Galinda a little twirl in the moonlight to examine her from all sides. 

Galinda leans into Elphie, batting her eyelashes. “Now, Miss Elphaba,” she whispers, “take me to bed.” 

Even in the low light, she can see the dark flush creeping up Elphie’s neck, staining the tops of her ears, and she giggles. 

“You’re too easy.” She sighs, tugging Elphie along by the hand. “Yet somehow never easy enough.” 

“What was that?” Elphaba prods.

“Nothing!” Galinda trills with an innocent smile. “Absolutely nothing.” 

Laying in Elphaba’s bed, legs twined under the sheets, Galinda caresses Elphaba’s cheek. 

“Come home with me tomorrow,” she says. 

“I can’t,” Elphaba argues. “It’s Nessa’s birthday.” 

“Who cares?” 

“Galinda, that’s my sister.” 

“You’re being a bore.” 

“I am not leaving my sister on her birthday,” Elphaba tells her. “That would just be cruel. No matter how awful she’s been today. Father did mean it when he said her birthday is a hard day for her. For all of us, really.” 

Galinda huffs. Mulls it over. 

“The day after, then.” 

“Galinda.” 

“Elphie, please,” Galinda begs. “You’re miserable here.” 

“I’m not—” 

“Oh, puh-lease, yes you are.” Galinda handwaves this away. “Momsie and Momsicle would love to see you again. We could explore Frottica, hike Mount Rouncible, do some shopping. Oh! And the Springtime Ball! I have just the loveliest new dress—”

“Yes, you mentioned it in your letters.” Elphie sounds bemused. 

“—and I could really use a date to escort me,” Galinda finishes. “Please, Elphie?” 

She can tell Elphie is tempted, so she traces the corner of Elphie’s jaw with gentle fingers. Tips her mouth up for a kiss. Elphie obliges, smiling only a little into the kiss.

When she pulls away, Galinda repeats, “Please,” and she’s not sure if it’s to do with the kiss or her request, but Elphie smooths a hand down her back and says:

“I’ll think about it tomorrow, okay?” 

“I couldn’t bear to leave you here,” Galinda says, “and go home without you. It wouldn’t feel right.” 

“It would be alright,” Elphie soothes. 

“I’m serious, Elphie. Tell me it would feel right to you: seeing me off at the train station, and having me travel all the way back to Frottica—overnight—by myself. And then coming back here to spend the rest of your holiday alone. Holidays are supposed to be relaxing, by the way, or hadn’t anyone ever told you? You don’t seem terribly relaxed here. You’ll get back to school just as stressed as the minute you left, and it’ll all have been for nothing.” 

“Tomorrow,” Elphaba insists, hand on Galinda’s back tugging her closer. “We’ll discuss it then.” With a sigh, Galinda rolls in, half on top of her and tucking her face against the curve of Elphie’s neck. “Go to sleep, sweetheart.” 

Galinda finds she’s a little too wired, a little too keyed-up. She wants an agreement from Elphie before she can let herself rest, and she’s also buzzing from having Elphie’s body all over hers. But Elphie’s eyes are closed, and her breathing is even, and if she’s not asleep she’s determinedly heading there, so Galinda shuts her eyes and counts her breaths and pretends she’s asleep until her fiction becomes a reality.

Nessa’s birthday begins with a Thropp family outing to visit the grave of Elphaba and Nessarose’s mother. 

“You don’t have to come,” Elphaba tells her, as Galinda helps her pick out an outfit. 

“I’m happy to come,” Galinda says. “Only I understand this may be a family kind of a thing. Do you want me to come? Would it be appropriate?” 

“Only if you want to,” Elphaba says. “It’s not exactly fun, though. You really don’t need to—” 

“Elphie,” Galinda cuts her off, directing Elphaba’s gaze to hers. “Do you want me to come with you? Yes or no.” 

Elphie deliberates. Galinda will be fine either way. 

“I do,” Elphaba finally says, and there’s something quiet and intense in her eyes. Galinda nods once, determined. 

“Then I’m coming. I’m afraid you’ll have to help me dress, though, Elphie, dear—it seems you have a disturbing lack of mirrors in your room.” 

“Not all of us like to look at ourselves all the time, my sweet.”

Galinda can’t imagine why not. 

She ends up dressing in the darkest colors she has available, since brights don’t feel correct for a graveyard visit—choosing a dress of deep amethyst, with her frill-collared, frill-sleeved tea rose blouse underneath. Elphaba stares at her for a good long while as Galinda blindly pins up her curls. 

“What is it?” she finally asks, smoothing down the front of her dress nervously. Her hands fly to her hair. “Oh, I messed up my hair, didn’t I? I knew I would. Your awful room without mirrors—”

“No, no. Your hair’s fine, Galinda. It’s just—you look pretty in that color,” Elphaba remarks softly. 

Galinda’s cheeks go hot. “Oh.” She smooths her hands down the front of the dress again. “Well, thank you. It’s a little darker than I usually go for—” 

“I know,” Elphaba says. And she looks so thoroughly charmed, Galinda thinks aloud:

“Perhaps I should reconsider my stance on darker shades.” 

“Hm, perhaps.” Elphie reaches for her hand. “We should go.” 

After last night’s debacle, any pretense of politeness has dissolved between Galinda and Governor Thropp, who sees her and Elphie coming hand-in-hand down the hallway and says outright: “No. Absolutely not. This is entirely inappropriate. She is not to come with us. She is to head right to the train station and find her way back to Gillikin.” 

Nessa sits there, too. In the bright light of morning, she at least has the decency to look a little ashamed when she spots Galinda. Still, she doesn’t intervene. 

“Galinda is very important to me,” Elphaba says, clutching Galinda’s hand between both of hers. “Mother would have wanted to meet her.” 

“Don’t presume to have any idea what your mother would have wanted,” Governor Thropp scolds. “What she would have wanted was to be alive and with her family right now.” 

Elphaba bodily flinches and looks away, and Nessarose ducks her head in shame, too. Galinda holds tight to Elphie’s hand and makes direct, unflinching eye contact with the Governor. 

“Yes,” she tells him, voice laced with accusation, “I’m sure she would have.” 

He caves first. Because of course he does. 

“We’re wasting time,” he snarls, and pushes Nessa’s wheelchair ahead of him as he storms off. 

The short carriage ride to the cemetery is excruciating. No one speaks; no one even looks at each other. Galinda hangs onto Elphie’s hand regardless. She and Elphaba help offload Nessa’s chair and get her back into it once they get there, but after that they all go back to ignoring one another. 

The cemetery outside of Nest Hardings is lovely, Galinda thinks. Sun-dappled and green, with austere little headstones poking their heads out of the long, lush grass and wildflowers. 

Elphaba’s mother’s headstone is situated in the shade of a sprawling Quadling oak—a granite obelisk about as tall as Galinda with simply her name—Melena Skarr Thropp—engraved into it. 

The quiet goes from tense to contemplative. The Governor bows his head with a heavy, remorseful sigh. Elphaba and Galinda stand a little ways back from the Governor and Nessa, and Galinda wraps her arm around Elphaba’s middle, leaning into her side. She tips her head onto Elphie’s shoulder, and feels Elphie exhale. 

“Mama, I’m sorry,” Nessarose murmurs, and sniffles. 

“No, no, no, my flower,” the Governor hurries to comfort her. “It wasn’t your fault. We’ve talked about this. She loved you so much. She would be so proud of the woman you’re becoming. So proud.”

He crouches and wraps his arms around his daughter, who holds him back, weeping into his shoulder. 

In Galinda’s arms, Elphaba feels tense. She radiates melancholy, and Galinda pokes her cheek, whispers, “She’d be proud of you, too.” 

“You don’t know that,” Elphaba says—less snappish than sad. Galinda squeezes her. 

“Of course I do,” she says. “I am.” 

Elphaba turns her head, and their noses are almost touching. Elphie’s fingertips brush against Galinda’s arm, an absentminded gesture. “I can barely even remember her,” Elphaba admits. “Sometimes I wonder if what I can remember is real, or if I made it all up.” 

“What do you remember?” Galinda prompts. Elphaba is quiet for a moment, turning to look at the obelisk again. 

She starts humming quietly, a gentle, heartrending little melody. Galinda closes her eyes. Elphaba has the loveliest singing voice. She wonders how it is she’s only discovering this now. She wonders how many other beautiful little surprises Elphaba has yet to reveal. 

Elphaba’s humming trails off. “I hardly remember the words. Something about a rainbow, or lemon drops, I think,” she says, “but I think she used to sing that to me when I was restless, or couldn’t sleep.” 

“It’s beautiful,” Galinda says. “She must have loved you very much.” 

To this, Elphaba says nothing. Galinda lets it lie. 

The rest of the day is similarly uncomfortable. Governor Thropp seems to adopt the ignore-it-and-it’ll-go-away approach with Galinda, and refuses to acknowledge her existence moving forward. The one other time he addresses her—to snarl, “You shouldn't be here—I want you out of my family's hair, you little brat” under his breath as they make their way back to the carriage—Elphaba tugs Galinda into her side and levels a forceful glare at him. A sudden wind sweeps over the four of them, kicking dust into everyone's eyes. Galinda can only smirk at the Governor's discomfort, raising a single eyebrow that says, I win, even as she ducks her head against Elphaba's shoulder to keep the dust and grit out of her face. Elphaba and Galinda cling to one another’s hands in the carriage. They go home to silently watch Nessarose open an absolute mountain of presents, until the room is so full of wrapping paper and ribbon that they have to wade their way out of it again. Nessa seems delighted with her haul, but there’s still a snappish edge to her that doesn’t seem to be going away. 

Or: she seems elsewhere. 

They play games that Nessa seems half bored with, and eat food that Nessa seems unimpressed by. She stares at the front door of the house any time it's in her line of vision. It’s a mercy when dinner ends without incident and they can all go their own ways. 

“I’m going to walk Nessa to her room,” Elphie tells Galinda. “I’ll meet you back in mine?” 

“Sure,” Galinda agrees, and she wants so badly to give Elphaba a little kiss as they part, but she’s good and she lets her go with nothing more than a little squeeze to her hand. 

Galinda tucks herself away in Elphaba’s bedroom and attempts to bide her time. 

She’s her own favorite person in Oz, but even she grows weary of being alone after long enough. And it’s been long enough that she wants Elphaba back. She still hasn’t extracted a promise from Elphaba to come back to Frottica with her tomorrow, and she would really rather nail down that plan for some peace of mind. So she wanders in search.

The door to Nessarose’s bedroom is cracked open, and there’s no yelling, but Galinda overhears the strains of some harsh conversation. 

“—Galinda comes all the way from fucking Frottica for you, someone who needs nothing, meanwhile he lives a mere hour away from here and couldn’t be bothered on my birthday—”

“—okay, well, that’s neither my fault nor Galinda’s fault—”

“—didn’t even send a letter or a gift—” 

“—did you even tell him you wanted him here? He’s not a mind-reader! Plus, he gave you flowers before you left school—” 

“—I don’t want flowers, Elphaba, I want him!” 

A beat of quiet. Galinda’s not sure whether to slink back to Elphaba’s room like she’s heard nothing or whether to barge in and referee this thing. She creeps closer to the open door.

“Galinda’s your friend, too,” Elphaba points out. 

“Oh, shut up, Elphaba,” Nessa hisses. “We both know what she’s here for.” 

Another beat of quiet. 

“She asked me to go back to Frottica with her tomorrow,” Elphaba says. Galinda’s heart jumps into her throat. “I’ve been thinking all day about whether I should take her up on it. But if you don’t want to be alone—if you ask me to stay here to be with you for the rest of the holiday—I’ll do it. I’ll tell her no. All you have to do is say the word.”

It hurts, hurts, hurts, even though Galinda’s not sure it has any right to. Tears spring to her eyes regardless. 

She can’t help thinking: Nessa would never offer the same to Elphie. That’s the part that really kicks. Not only that Elphaba would shirk Galinda for her sister, but that Nessa would leap at the opportunity to cast Elphaba aside for Boq.

Nessarose is quiet for a long, long moment. Galinda holds her breath, swipes at her eyes outside the door.

“Just go,” Nessa finally decides, voice full of exasperated bitterness. “If you stay, you’ll spend the rest of the holiday resenting me for keeping you here. I hate it when you sulk.” 

“Are you sure?” Elphaba asks. “I don’t want to abandon you—” 

“Of course you do, it’s all you’ve ever wanted—to be free of the burden of Nessarose,” Nessa says, finally raising her voice a hair. “Just leave, Elphaba.”

“That’s not fair, Nessa.” 

“I don’t care if it’s fair,” Nessa snaps. “I’m telling you to leave, so just do as I ask!” She pauses, sighs, and adds in a softer voice, “It’ll make Galinda happy.” 

“Her happiness is not more important to me than yours,” Elphaba says. 

Nessarose says nothing to this. Galinda tries to wipe her tears as quickly as they come, but they’re fast and keep dripping off her chin and onto her blouse. She spares half a second to worry about staining the silk with them. And she might be rubbing her cheeks a little raw. 

“Alright, well, good night, then. I’ll see you in the morning,” Elphaba finally says, and Galinda turns her back to the door, starts walking as quickly as she can down the hall without raising suspicions.

But she’s not fast enough, because as soon as she hears the door start to creak, she hears Elphie’s voice call:

“Galinda?” 

She walks a smidge faster, but Elphie’s footfalls are even quicker as she jogs to catch up. Elphaba’s fingers wrap around her arm, and she turns Galinda to face her, and she just:

“Galinda, what’s going on? Oh, no. Don’t cry. Here, sweetheart, come on, come with me.” 

She tugs Galinda into the nearest bathroom, shutting the door behind them, and goes about wetting a cloth in the sink while Galinda struggles to pull herself together. 

“Here, sit,” Elphaba says, gently guiding Galinda to perch on the edge of the bathtub, then sinking to sit beside her. She cleans Galinda’s face quietly, hands utterly gentle and tender, which just kind of sets Galinda off all over again. “What is it?” 

Galinda can’t answer. Elphaba’s eyes go dark.

“Did my father say something to you?”

“Oh, please.” Galinda’s almost insulted, and Elphie almost cracks a smile. “That ugly old coot hardly has the power to hurt my feelings.” 

Elphaba snickers under her breath. “What is it, then?” 

Galinda once again can’t find an answer, and realization dawns on Elphie all at once. 

“You heard me and Nessa talking, didn’t you?” 

A fresh wave of tears answers Elphie’s question for her. 

“Sweetest,” Elphie sighs, and drops the washcloth from Galinda’s face. “You can’t take matters between me and my sister personally.” 

“I’m not. I don’t,” Galinda argues, and Elphie levels her with a look that says: Sure you don’t.  

“I have a responsibility to my sister,” Elphaba tells her. “It’s my duty to look after her, to make sure she’s taken care of. It’s like a job, I can’t—” She sighs, frustrated, and puts the washcloth down. “I can’t just take off on a whim without knowing she’ll be okay without me. I have to know she’ll be alright alone. It has nothing to do with not wanting to be with you.” 

“But you know she can function just fine on her own. She hardly needs you to wait on her hand and foot when we’re at Shiz,” Galinda argues. “Just because your father treats her like a child while she’s at home—” 

“I know she functions fine, but it’s not just about her function,” Elphie interrupts. “You don’t—”

“Don’t tell me I don’t understand,” Galinda cuts her off. 

“But you don’t understand,” Elphaba says, cupping her cheek. “I’m not angry at you for it, and it’s not because I think you’re some sort of fool. But you just don’t know what it’s like to be responsible for someone other than yourself. It complicates things. Even when you don’t want it to.” The flecks of gold in her green eyes are brighter than ever in the bathroom light. “But it doesn’t mean I’m any less excited to come with you to Frottica tomorrow. I just needed to know for sure that she wouldn’t need me here.”

A smile flickers across Galinda’s face. “You really want to come?” 

“Honestly? I’m desperate to,” Elphie says, as genuine as she’s ever sounded, and Galinda pitches forward to kiss her. 

She’s a little stuffed up from crying (and feeling a little silly about it now, to boot), so she has to keep taking little breaks from kissing Elphie to breathe through her mouth, which in turn makes Elphie smile all sweet and goofy against her lips, her cheek, until it happens one too many times and she goes, “What if I just…?” and moves her lips down to the side of Galinda’s neck. 

Galinda gasps. One hand flies to the back of Elphie’s head, keeping her there. Her breathing goes ragged when Elphie licks up the column of her throat; nips right behind her ear. Oh, she just loves when Elphie kisses her neck! And she does it much less frequently than Galinda would like.

Galinda’s hands move to Elphie’s thighs, desperately rucking up the material of her skirt in search of soft green skin to touch. Elphaba takes Galinda’s hands, but doesn’t pull away from her neck—just moves those hands up to her waistline. 

As soon as they’re freed again, Galinda moves them right back down to continue that original mission. She slides them under Elphie’s skirt and up and up and up, until Elphaba grabs those hands again, and Galinda whines. Elphaba giggles, thoroughly amused. Galinda tries to wrest her hands back. 

“Galinda,” Elphaba says, and Galinda whines again in response.

“Elphie,” she complains, “you stopped.” 

“These,” Elphaba says, presenting Galinda’s hands to her like they might be strangers to her, “are getting a little brazen for a kiss happening next to a toilet.” 

Galinda’s eyes cut to the offending plumbing. As much as Galinda is just dying to get her hands under Elphaba’s clothes, the toilet does kill the mood just a touch. 

“Then let’s go back to your room,” Galinda suggests. 

And they do, only once they’ve changed into pajamas and slipped into Elphie’s bed, things begin to cool off. Against all of her best intentions, Galinda finds herself cried out and exhausted, and Elphaba looks… well, equally worn. 

Still, they pass a few sleepy kisses back and forth between them, and they fall asleep with their heads on the same pillow and their legs tangled together.

The next morning, they share a breakfast with Nessarose and the Governor before departing for the train station. It’s just as tense as every other meal with Governor Thropp has been, but Nessa seems a little lighter, a little looser.

“I can only hope you behave yourself better in someone else's home than you do in your own,” the Governor scolds Elphaba.

“Oh, Mr. Governor, sir, don't you worry, my parents just adore Elphaba,” Galinda says. “They'll be just thrillified to see her again. I can only hope everyone here can get by without her.”

He doesn't even look at her. It's as if she hasn't spoken at all. The fact that he won't even face her, standing right in front of him… Galinda can't contain her little smile: victory!

As they head out the door, Nessa stops Galinda with a hand on her wrist.

“I think I need to apologize to you,” she says. “I’ve been exceedingly rude. You are my friend, and I am happy to see you, and it was nice to have a friend here for my birthday for once.” 

“Even if it wasn’t the one you would’ve preferred,” Galinda finishes for her, and Nessarose ducks her head, bashful. They both smile. “I accept your apology, Miss Nessarose. Though perhaps Elphie deserves it more than I do.” 

Nessa’s brow furrows. “Elphaba?”

“I’m not sure you even realize,” Galinda tells her, “how much your sister does for you. Or perhaps you’re just so used to it.” Nessa says nothing to this, and Galinda sighs. “She puts your happiness above her own, every single time. I just wonder if sometime you ought to return the favor.” 

“Galinda, we’re going to miss the train!” Elphaba calls through the open door. Galinda squeezes Nessarose’s hand, once, before stepping away. 

“And Boq was wrong for not at very least sending you a letter on your birthday. You can tell him I said as much,” she says, and follows Elphie out into the sunlight. “I’ll see you back at school, Nessa.”

“Safe travels,” Nessa tells her softly as she goes. 

By the time they get to the station, Elphaba and Galinda are rushing to buy their tickets. The train is pulling away, and they both have to jog to leap onto it before it’s gone, cackling and squealing.

“We made it!” Galinda crows, causing other passengers to turn and look, and Elphie shushes her softly with a little kiss to her cheek. 

They stow their luggage and find a pair of seats with a good view of Munchkinland’s countryside as it rolls on by. Galinda expects to point out all her favorite sights to Elphaba along the way, but something about the rocking of the train carriage, the white noise of the engine’s rumble, lulls her into a half-sleep with her head periodically bobbing against Elphaba’s shoulder. 

“Just rest, my sweet,” Elphaba urges, and Galinda gives in. 

When she wakes again, she finds herself—somehow—sprawled across Elphie’s lap. One of Elphie’s hands cards through her hair, strokes down her back, and it’s so nice, Galinda could just melt. She tries to feign rest, just to keep Elphie touching her like that, only— 

“I know you’re awake,” Elphaba says, and Galinda peeks over her shoulder. Elphie, predictably, has her nose in a book. The rhythm of her spare hand doesn’t change, but she does glance down from her reading with a bemused look on her face. Galinda starts to push herself up, and Elphaba tells her, “You don’t have to go,” but Galinda’s already stretching her arms out over her head and peering out the window. 

The sun sits low over the horizon. They’re still in Munchkinland, though the terrain has changed—a bit more hilly and wooded than before, so they must be close to the border. Bright poppies roll out in every direction. 

“I’m so sure I fell asleep on your shoulder,” Galinda says, stifling a yawn. 

“You’re something of a heat-seeker when you’re asleep,” Elphie informs her. 

“And I can’t believe you’re glued to this dusty old thing,” Galinda continues, hooking a finger over the book and pulling it down away from Elphie’s face, “when you’ve got all that to look at just out the window.” She gestures at the gorgeorific nature rolling past.

“You’ve hardly been paying attention to the scenery, either,” Elphaba retorts, pulling the book back. 

“Well, sure, but I’ve already seen it,” Galinda argues.

“What if I told you I’m capable of multitasking?” Elphaba says. 

Galinda has nothing to say to that, so she grouses and nestles up against Elphie’s side again, trying to read over her shoulder. Elphaba turns the page before she can get to the end. 

“Hey, I wasn’t finished yet!” Galinda fusses. 

With a little smirk, Elphaba turns the page back for Galinda. When she’s done, she gently pinches Elphaba’s side and tells her, “Okay, keep going.” 

They read together like that—Galinda just a little slower than Elphaba, Elphaba consistently waiting for her cue to turn the page—until the sun sinks behind the mountains and the train pulls into the dense woods that line the border of Munchkinland and Gillikin—deeper and deeper into the Great Gillikin Forest. 

When Elphaba begins to yawn and her head begins to droop sideways against Galinda’s, Galinda extracts the book from her hands and urges her to lie her head in her lap. She takes off her glasses and stares up at Galinda, almost disbelieving. Galinda’s fingertip traces the line of her brow. 

“What is it?” she asks. 

“Nothing,” Elphie says. Her eyes flutter shut, and Galinda lets her finger run up and down the bridge of Elphie’s nose, tracing the freckles. 

She lets Elphaba fall asleep like that. Somewhere in the middle of the night, she finally starts to drift off again, too, and neither of them wakes again until the conductor announces that the train is closing in on the Pertha Hills. 

Elphaba groans and shifts Galinda off of her, and Galinda groans and tries to nestle in close again before her eyes come open.

She’s got a crick in her neck. She’s sore all over. Based on the way Elphaba is trying to stretch out her back, she’s probably not faring much better. 

“We’re here,” Galinda says, gesturing out the window. Elphaba’s eyes take in the mountains and hills, the rivers and valleys, and she smiles, revealing that little gap between her teeth. Galinda’s desperate to kiss her. 

“It’s so beautiful,” Elphaba says. 

Galinda can’t tear her eyes away from Elphaba when she answers, “It is, isn’t it?” 

Galinda and Elphaba’s arrival is met with an absurd amount of fanfare and ado, particularly from Momsie, who wraps Galinda in a big hug and laments how long she was away, how much she missed her, and then wraps Elphaba in a hug and laments how it’s been even longer and how deeply, desperately sorry she is that Elphaba was having such a rotten time at home. 

(Momsicle watches the reunions fondly.)

“Galinda made it bearable,” Elphaba assures Momsie. 

“Well, of course she did,” Momsie says, beaming at her daughter. “Our cupcake is a delight, isn’t she? The most wonderful daughter my wife and I have. Oh, but don't tell all the others.” She winks. 

Galinda wants to duck her head in embarrassment, because that would be the thing to do in the face of such a statement from one’s Momsie, but the fond looks she’s getting from her mothers and her girlfriend warm her right down to her toes. 

“Well, I suppose I should show Elphaba to my room—” she says, grabbing Elphie by the hand.

“Why don’t you show her to her room?” Momsicle says. “We’ve had a guest room made up just for her.” 

“What? Why?” Galinda asks. “No, she’ll sleep with me in my room.” 

Momsie levels her with a withering look, Momsicle raises a curious eyebrow, and Elphaba starts to flush emerald, and— oh. Galinda blushes a bit, too. 

“Oh, Oz, Momsie, Momsicle, not like that!” she protests, although it plants a seed in her brain, a sprout of a secret idea—why not like that? “We already share a room at school, anyway. I’ve gotten so used to having a roommate, sleeping in a room by myself makes me all nervish now. That’s all.”

“You can show Elphaba to her room,” Momsicle repeats. “We’ve put her in the one right across from yours.” 

With a heavy sigh, Galinda drags Elphaba behind her, head drooping in glum defeat as they trudge up the stairs.

In the middle of the night, Galinda looks both ways—left and right and then left and right again—before scurrying as quickly and quietly as her feet can take her across the hallway. She eases open Elphaba’s door, slips inside, and shuts it just a touch louder than she would’ve liked in her haste. 

“Wha—?” Elphaba starts up.

“Shh!” Galinda says, back to the door. She counts to five, listening intently, and when she hears no noise, pads across the room and leaps into Elphaba’s bed. “Hi,” she whispers, nose to nose hovering over her girlfriend.

Elphaba’s hands are soft on her waistline, eyes sparkling and fond as she repeats back, “Hi,” and then Galinda is wiggling her shoulders in excitement and kissing her. 

Elphie hums against her lips, and Galinda’s hands rove over Elphie’s back. She pulls Elphie’s nightgown up, up, up until she can feel the backs of Elphie’s bare thighs under her fingertips, and Elphaba pulls back. 

“What about your mothers?” she asks, looking concerned.

Galinda pulls a face. “What about them?” 

“They don’t want us to…” Elphaba gestures at the two of them. “They put us in separate rooms.” 

“Goodness, Elphie, they’re not our wardens,” Galinda says, and pulls her in for a kiss again. 

“I don’t want to disrespect them in their own home,” Elphaba mumbles against her lips. 

“Oh, they don’t even care!” Galinda fusses. “Momsie would sooner throw herself from the peak of Mount Rouncible than be perceived as a bad hostess, and Momsicle just thinks she has to separate us because that’s what parents do. That’s why you’ve been given your own room.” She kisses Elphaba again, and Elphaba goes with it this time, nipping at Galinda’s lower lip before moving her lips down under her jaw. Galinda sighs gratefully. “Besides,” she murmurs, “doesn’t sneaking around make it a little more fun?” 

Elphaba doesn’t answer her verbally, but does pinch her waist hard, making Galinda yelp and flinch. She can feel the curve of Elphaba’s smile against her neck. 

“Incorrigible,” she scolds, cradling the back of Elphaba’s head. Elphaba sucks and worries at Galinda’s skin right over her pulse, hands coming up to cup Galinda’s breasts through the thin fabric of her nightgown, and Galinda swallows back a sigh. “Keep doing that.”

The next morning, Galinda is bleary and well-rested as she makes her way down to breakfast, still in her pajamas. Her parents and Elphaba are already at the breakfast table. 

She plops herself down beside Elphaba and immediately reaches for a slice of toast, for some smoked riverfish, for some quoxberry jam without a care in the world until Momsicle plucks a lock of Galinda’s hair up and away from her neck and goes, “Mishap with the curling iron, dear?” 

Galinda freezes in place. Stops breathing. Elphaba stares down at her plate, unmoving but for the dark flush creeping up her neck. Looking like prey.

“Oh, Larena, leave the poor girls alone,” Momsie clucks. “Besides, it’s nothing we haven’t done before ourselves plenty of times.” 

Galinda covers her face with her hands and screams into them in frustration and embarrassment: “EW!” 

Momsicle chuckles, rubs her shoulders, and leans down to say, “I won’t belabor the point. I think hearing your mother say that was probably consequence enough, no?” 

Galinda’s never been so humilified in all her life.  

Their week in Frottica passes faster than Galinda would like it to, and she’s trying to grasp at every moment for as long as she can hang onto it. They go flower-picking in the foothills of the mountains, swimming in the river, wandering through the streets to admire the houses and people-watch. Galinda teaches Elphaba some of the fun facts she has about Frottica's traditional architecture (an interest of hers she doesn't get to share often, and she's just delighted to have Elphie as a captive audience). The pair of them help Momsie and Momsicle set up for the Springtime Ball, and Galinda even manages to drag Elphie into a few shops to buy a new dress for the party. Their days are full of movement and laughter and good food and rest.

Most nights, she sneaks into Elphie’s room, except for that one night Elphie beats her to the punch with a sly smile and comes slinking into Galinda’s room instead. They kiss and touch until they tire themselves out, and then they slip back into their own beds by morning.

(They’re careful about not leaving any additional hickeys behind.)

Galinda wants more. She’s starting to wonder why it always has to stop at kissing. 

Of course, they do have time. It doesn’t have to happen over this holiday. As much as Galinda’s suddenly realized how impatient she is for this next step, they are returning to the same dorm room at Shiz in a few days. It’s not like when their week is over, so are their chances. 

But a part of her thinks—well, it is, a little bit. They’ll be back to school and life and they’ll be swamped all over again, juggling friendships and outings and essays and classes and exams. Wouldn’t it be just so nice, if they could not have to worry about all that, when they…? 

So the night before the ball, she resolves to try.  

She sneaks into Elphaba’s room on a mission this time. 

She’s got a robe on—ruby-colored satin with long flowy sleeves that falls only to about mid-thigh—and only her underwear and a matching little bralette beneath it. 

Elphaba’s up and waiting for her, and seems momentarily surprised to see what she’s wearing, but doesn’t seem to think that much of it as Galinda bounds across the room and jumps into bed with her. 

“You’re chipper,” Elphie observes. 

“Mhm,” Galinda agrees, peppering Elphie’s face with kisses and demanding, “kiss me, kiss me!” 

Elphie smiles and does, rolling onto her back so Galinda can lean over her. 

Everything seems to be going to plan until Galinda swings a leg over Elphaba’s body to straddle her hips. Elphie’s hands slide to her thighs and up, and she suddenly realizes Galinda is not wearing any shorts under her robe. She startles, breaking the kiss. 

“Are you—?” she starts. Galinda takes her hands and moves them to the tie at her waist. 

“Here, undo this,” she says, and gets back to kissing behind Elphaba’s ear. 

Elphie does as she’s told, slowly untying the bow at Galinda’s middle and sweeping the satin back, but then she pauses. Galinda feels her freeze and sits back up. 

“Elphie?” She tilts her head to the side, questioning. 

Elphie’s eyes rove over Galinda’s body, silently taking it in, and Galinda’s face starts to get hot. She feels a little antsy, suddenly. She musters a smile, fingers tapping at Elphaba’s shoulders. 

“Well?” Galinda prompts, “Say something, Elphie, you’re making me nervous.” 

“You’re not wearing anything,” Elphie says, wide-eyed. 

“I’m…” Galinda fiddles with the strap of the bralette. “I am. Sort of. But I don’t need to be. I mean, I could be wearing less.” 

Elphie goes quiet again. She’s just—staring at Galinda’s chest, at her stomach. Not touching her. Then: “Why?” 

“Why what?” Galinda asks. 

“Why are you—?” Elphie gestures to her body, eyes flicking up to finally meet hers momentarily. 

“Because I thought—” Galinda frowns. Her brow furrows. “I wanted you to—I thought you would maybe—” She sputters out. “Do you… not?” 

Elphaba’s still not touching her, and it’s making Galinda sick. This ice-cold, icky feeling slinks through her gut—an unfamiliar one. Oh, this is bad. 

“We haven’t talked about this,” Elphaba finally says. 

“We’ve been together for months now,” Galinda argues, crossing her arms over her chest to give herself a bit of coverage. “I think it’s been implied, Elphie. And frankly long overdue.” 

“Overdue?” Elphaba says, brows rising. “I didn’t realize you had me on a deadline.” 

This is not how Galinda thought this would go. “If you don’t want me, you can just say as much,” Galinda snaps, pouting. “Spare us both the trouble.” 

“That’s manipulacious,” Elphaba accuses. “I don’t like that, Galinda, don’t do that.” 

Galinda has no idea what else to say. She doesn’t want to manipulate Elphie into having sex with her, Oz, and now that that word is out there—

She rolls off of Elphie, swings her legs over the side of the bed.

“I’m… gonna go,” she says quietly. 

“Galinda,” Elphie says, finally reaching for her, but it’s too late. “Hey, wait. You don’t need to leave. That’s not what I’m asking.” It can’t happen tonight, not anymore. Galinda shrugs Elphie’s hand away when it brushes her shoulder. She reties her robe. 

“I’m sorry,” Galinda says, trying to infuse as much understanding as she can into her voice. “Truly, I am. I do think I want to go to bed now, though. If that’s alright.” 

Elphaba sighs softly behind her. She touches Galinda’s back, and Galinda doesn’t shy away this time—she lets Elphie rub her shoulders, soothing and kind. They stay like that for a tick.

“I’ll see you in the morning, then, my sweet,” Elphaba says, and presses a kiss to the nape of Galinda’s neck. Under any other circumstances, it would light Galinda up. Now she just feels dim. 

“I’ll see you in the morning,” Galinda parrots back. She turns, takes Elphie’s hand, and presses one long kiss to the back of her knuckles. They exchange reassuring smiles—you’re okay and I’m okay—and Galinda feels a little less sick than she did, though she’s still off-kilter as she stands, as she slips across the hallway, as she tucks herself back into her own bed. 

Galinda wonders, in the morning, if Elphaba feels this weird moodification, too.

Galinda has felt all sorts of things around Elphaba in the time they’ve known each other: everything from searing infuration to overwhelming adoration.

Angsty awkwardness is new. 

Part of Galinda can’t help feeling like the night before was some kind of massive misstep on her part. The other part of Galinda is far too busy helping Momsie and Momsicle make last-minute arrangements to have time to worry about it. 

She and Elphaba don’t talk about it. They run into town together to gather last minute supplies; help hang streamers and ribbons; show arriving musicians and caterers where to set up in the house’s sprawling gardens and kitchens. 

By the time evening is falling and the earliest guests are starting to arrive, Galinda and Elphaba are ushered upstairs by Momsie and Momsicle to go change, and be quick about it.  

And Galinda is quick about it! She curls her hair into even bouncier ringlets than usual, and tops it all with a glittering little tiara. She applies sparkly lipgloss and rosy blush, fastens on her favorite necklace and earrings. She slips into that perfect, perfect dress for the first time, and it fits her like it was made for her. Oh, it’s love at first sight! She knows she looks good—she’s been devoted to pink for years now, but perhaps she ought to reconsider, because baby blue really could be her color! She's ethereal.

She just—she can’t get the laces. She hurries across the hallway and knocks cautiously on the guest room door. 

“One moment!” comes Elphaba’s voice.

“Don’t rush!” Galinda calls back. 

A few more clock ticks go by, and Galinda hears rustling and muffled cursing on the other side of the door. It makes her smirk to herself. And then the door swings open. 

Elphaba is a vision. The dress Galinda had wheedled her into buying looks like a night sky: a deep midnight blue so dark it could almost be black, with glittering gold and silver stars embroidered here and there. Floor-length with long lace sleeves and a high neckline, but that hugs her body at every curve. Her hair is loose around her shoulders, and she wears a little fascinator—a quirky thing that’s so perfectly Elphaba, that reminds Galinda of her favorite pointy hat but significantly more formal. She’s even put a little bit of makeup on, just the way Galinda’s taught her: smoky eye and a bit of eyeliner, and a dark purple lipstick that makes her lips look almost black. 

Galinda could almost cry , she’s so beautiful. 

Elphaba’s staring right back. She reaches out like she wants to touch, then draws her hand back like she’s afraid of messing Galinda up. 

“Um.” Galinda clears her throat, lifting her chin. Elphaba’s eyes trail down her neck, her collarbones. “I—I need a little help with the laces.” 

“Oh.” Elphaba’s breath leaves her in a single sweep. “Okay, yes, turn around.” 

Galinda does, lifting her hair off her back just in case. Elphaba’s fingers are astonishingly gentle, tugging the corset part of the dress closed. Nothing like the forceful tugging Pfannee and Shenshen—bless their hearts—use when she asks them for help. 

“Can you breathe?” Elphaba asks carefully.

Galinda tests it, then nods. “You could even go a little tighter.” 

“I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“You won’t,” Galinda promises. 

Elphie tugs on the laces again, adjusting them along Galinda’s back, before she ties them off at Galinda’s lower back and announces, “All done.” 

Galinda drops her hair, turns back to her, and Elphie’s still just staring.  

“What? Do I have something in my teeth?” she teases.

“You’re beautiful,” Elphaba breathes. Then chuckles wryly, ducking her head. “But you already knew that.” 

Galinda cups her cheek, and whatever awkwardness has been sitting between them all day just melts away. “Funny, I was about to tell you the same thing.” 

They hold one another’s gazes for a long moment before Elphaba admits, “I want to kiss you so badly right now but I don’t want to ruin either of our makeup.” 

“Yes, I’d really rather you didn’t,” Galinda agrees, but she throws her arms around Elphaba’s shoulders to hug her close. “We can do this, though.” 

Elphie slips her arms around Galinda’s back and squeezes.  

They sway back and forth together, in their own little bubble, breathing each other in and listening to the distant sounds of the party picking up downstairs and outside. 

“Last night—” Elphaba starts.

“Shh, let’s not talk about that right now,” Galinda says, tensing. 

“No, Galinda, seriously,” Elphaba says, hands sliding up and down Galinda’s back until she relaxes again. “I was just surprised, is all. I wasn’t expecting it, and I wasn’t—prepared. It’s not that I didn’t—or that I don’t want you. I don’t think I could possibly want anything more. I really just never expected you to want—” She cuts herself off, takes a breath. Galinda aches: She thinks I wouldn’t want her like that? What ever did I do to give her that impression? “So if you ever wanted to give me another chance, or try again sometime—I mean, if I didn’t completely ruin it for you, then—”

“Elphaba, seriously,” Galinda cuts her off, drawing out of her arms just enough to look her in the eye. “I appreciate that, but right now is not the time. We’ve got a party to get to.” 

“Right,” Elphaba agrees, disentangling them for real. “Right. We should—right.” 

Elphaba starts marching away, and Galinda grabs her by the hand, tugging her back. “Elphie.” 

“What?” Elphie says. 

Galinda lifts the back of Elphie’s hands to her lips, leaving a sticky, sparkly lip-gloss kiss on her viridian skin. “I love you.” 

Elphaba flushes deep jade, shutting her eyes and fighting her smile. They’ve said it to each other for far longer than they’ve been together—as friends—and they didn’t exactly stop when the togetherness began, but for the first time Galinda’s saying it, it really, truly feels like: I love you. 

“You’re really making it challenging not to kiss you right now,” Elphaba tells her with her eyes still shut. 

“What, you’re not going to say it back?” Galinda pouts, and Elphaba’s eyes come open, a bemused smile on her pretty, full lips. 

“Of course I love you, my sweet,” Elphie says, and returns the kiss, leaving a dark purple lip print on the back of Galinda’s hand. 

With their arms twined together, the backs of their hands tattooed with evidence of chaste kisses exchanged, the two descend the sweeping staircase of the Upland mansion in unison. The crowd below has grown considerably since they’d gone up to get changed, and a small hush falls over the room. 

Galinda can feel Elphaba’s nerves start up. All those eyes on her, some wary…

Galinda rubs her arm. “You’re beautiful,” she whispers to her. “And you could cast circles around every sorcerer on this property, to boot.” 

That gets one of those little hidden, sideways smirks out of Elphaba, and Galinda beams. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, our daughter Galinda and her partner, Elphaba Thropp,” Momsicle announces them as they breach the bottom of the stairs. 

“Well aren’t you two a vision?” Momsie gushes, immediately clacking over in her little heels. “My word, we did good with Galinda’s gown, didn’t we, Larena? And Miss Elphie, what a spectaculific dress on you! Why, you wear it like you were born for it—doesn’t she, darling? And together—oh! I see what you’ve done! Very clever: day and night! Oh, how gorgeous! My gorgeous, gorgeous girls!” She’s near tears embracing the two of them, and Galinda and Elphaba exchange a look over the top of her head: Elphaba, bewildered amusement, and Galinda, fond exasperation. 

“You do both look stunning,” Momsicle says, prying Momsie off the two of them. “Galinda, you should make the rounds. Your uncle is here, as is your Ama.” 

Galinda gasps. “Ama Clutch is here?” And she’s off, tugging Elphaba behind her in her wake. 

Galinda finds her old nanny, and then every old friend of her mothers’. She introduces Elphaba to every single person. Elphaba gets a few sideways looks, a few awkward questions about the green, but she handles them with all the poise and dignity of a woman with a snappish, bristling Galinda Upland on her arm. The two of them eat canapés and little desserts, drink glasses of champagne the same color as Galinda’s hair. There aren’t too many people their age at this function—a few distant childhood acquaintances Galinda hasn’t seen since she was six or seven, dragged along by their parents—but when Galinda and Elphaba begin to dance, the young people come out of the woodwork to join them. They reprise their dance from the Ozdust, and teach it to the others. 

They drift into separate circles for a portion of the night—Elphaba swept off by Momsie and Momsicle to speak to a group of fellow sorcerers, and Galinda spinning through dance after dance with old family friends. She's having so much fun dancing, she doesn't even care about being excluded from the sorcery circle. 

When they finally reunite near the end of the night under the strings of twinkling fairy lights in the backyard, Galinda is uncontrollably giggly and wobbly on her feet, curls a disheveled mess. Elphaba catches her when she all but hurls herself into her arms and presses a kiss to her hair, completely uncaring of who might see. 

“How much champagne?” Elphie teases in a low voice, and Galinda giggles again. 

“Just enough, Elphaba Thropp!” she announces, head tucked against Elphaba’s shoulder. She gasps, looking up. “Oh, we should toast to you! Let’s go get more—”

“I’m not sure whether you need more.” Elphaba lets herself be pulled along. 

“But you do! Come on, come on, let’s get you something!” Galinda insists, and finds the bar. She pours two glasses—perhaps a little over-full, but who cares?—hands one to Elphie, and says, “Well, I can hardly let you drink alone, now can I? It would be terribly un-hostess-like.” 

Elphaba levels her with a look, but doesn’t do anything so strict as protest or take her drink away. She clinks their glasses together, and Galinda gasps again. 

“Oh, wait!” Galinda says, and Elphie pauses with her glass to her lips. Galinda manhandles her a little, moving her arm so they’re linked at the elbow. “Okay, like this.” 

Arms twined together, the two of them drink. Elphaba takes a long sip, then stifles a laugh as Galinda tips her whole glass back in one go. She motions to the glass in Elphaba’s hand when she’s done, wiping her lips on the back of her hand. 

“You gonna finish that?” 

“Yes,” Elphaba says, holding it away from Galinda’s greedy, already reaching hands. “But you should drink some water.” 

Galinda pouts. “Elphie.” 

“Come on, princess,” Elphie says, ushering her into the house with a hand on her low back. 

“But I’m having fun,” Galinda whines. 

“You won’t be tomorrow.” 

“Oh, who cares about tomorrow? It’s tonight!” She hangs on to Elphie’s neck, stumbling over the threshold and laughing. 

In the kitchen, Elphaba helps hoist her up onto the counter, where she swings her feet with one shoe dangling halfway off, and then watches her drink one full glass of water and then a second. Elphaba, meanwhile, finishes off her glass of champagne, a deep green blush staining her cheeks. 

“You’re so pretty like this,” Galinda sighs, reaching out to brush Elphaba’s cheek with her fingertips. Elphaba smiles bashfully. “Did I do something foolish? Because I don’t know where you got the absurdified idea that I wouldn’t want to have sex with you. No, I mean it, Elphie, you could say the word anywhere, anytime, and I’d pretty much drop everything—”

“Shh! Shh!” Elphaba laughs, clapping her hands over Galinda’s mouth. “My sweet, you are talking so loud.” She’s still laughing, and that little gap between her teeth is visible, and Galinda’s vision narrows to pretty much just that. Elphie’s hands slide to Galinda’s cheeks, thumbs stroking her cheekbones. “Goodness, Galinda, it's nothing you did. You're perfect. I promise I will take you up on that offer at some point, but you really don’t need to shout it for all your parents’ friends to hear.”

A hot rush floods through Galinda from the crown of her head to the soles of her feet: I promise I will take you up on that. A giggle bubbles up out of her throat. 

“Why not?” Galinda teases, and Elphaba blushes deeper. Despite the water, the room is swaying ever so slightly, and Galinda groans to tip her head forward against Elphie’s shoulder. “Oh no. Am I drunk?” 

“I’m afraid you might be,” Elphie confirms. Galinda groans again and hops down from the counter. Elphaba catches her. “One more glass of water?” she asks. 

“One,” Galinda says, “but then you have to come dance with me.” 

“It doesn’t seem like many people are dancing anymore,” Elphie observes, passing the water glass to Galinda.

“What does that have to do with us?” Galinda retorts with a raised eyebrow. Elphaba grins, and nudges the water towards her lips. With a roll of her eyes, Galinda drinks. 

As the party winds down, Galinda and Elphaba are the last two people dancing. Or—not dancing, per se, by the end, but swaying with their shoes off, arms wrapped around each other. It’s only when the musicians stop playing that they finally say their goodnights to the last straggling partygoers, find Momsie and Momsicle to wish them a good night, and ascend the stairs once more. 

Galinda’s got a lingering buzz, but she’s not drunk anymore. Still, she knows she’s probably too tired and unfocused to get herself out of her beautiful, perfect dress on her own, so she tugs Elphie into her bedroom behind her and shuts the door. 

“I need your help getting out of this,” she explains.

Elphaba’s hands are just as deft and gentle undoing the laces at her back as they were doing them up in the first place, and Galinda takes the tiara off her head and combs her fingers through her tangled curls as Elphie works. The low lamplight casts them both in a golden hue. When the dress is undone, Elphie steps back, but glances away when Galinda lets the thing fall and pool around her feet, leaving her topless in just a petticoat. 

Elphaba clears her throat. “I should just—uh.” She gestures towards the door, eyes going everywhere but Galinda. 

Galinda reaches for her, fingers brushing her wrist, and it stills her. 

“Can I take off your makeup?” Galinda asks. 

Elphaba’s eyes dart to Galinda’s bare chest for just a second, then away. She flushes, shuts her eyes, nods. 

Galinda directs Elphaba to lie down on her bed, then straddles her waist. With a damp cloth, she swipes gently over Elphaba’s closed eyes, watching her lovely green skin reveal itself from under the smoky grays again. The dark lipstick has gone in the center of Elphaba’s mouth, but still lines her lips, and Galinda methodically wipes this away, too. She finishes her work with a kiss. 

Elphaba’s eyes stay closed, but her hands drift up to Galinda’s bare sides. Galinda shivers. 

“Are you cold?” Elphie asks, and it’s so ridiculous. Galinda laughs. 

“Can I take this off?” Galinda asks, touching the little fascinator on Elphie’s head. Elphie nods, and Galinda carefully unclips it before flinging it wide. “What about this?” she asks, tugging at the neckline of Elphie’s dress.

Elphie goes still. 

“Elphie—?”

“Yes,” Elphie agrees emphatically. “The buttons are along the back, though, so you’ll have to—”

“Here, sit up.” Galinda urges Elphaba to sit, then sits criss-cross behind her, undoing the buttons down Elphaba’s neck to her mid-back. “How did you ever get this on by yourself in the first place?” 

“Magic,” Elphaba teases, doing something funny with her eyebrows, though she might be serious, Galinda can’t tell. 

“You look ravishating in this dress, by the way. Everyone was so jealous of me, getting to walk around with you on my arm all night. You’ll have to wear it again for me sometime,” Galinda tells her, kissing the back of her neck. Elphaba shivers, and Galinda hums with a smile, perching her chin on Elphie’s shoulder. “Cold?” 

Elphaba huffs out a small laugh through her nose, and Galinda starts pushing the dress off her shoulders. 

“I’ve got it,” Elphie says. “Why don’t you take your own makeup off?” 

Galinda does, but she keeps an eye on Elphaba in the mirror behind her as she peels the long thing off, revealing endless emerald skin. Little freckles dot her shoulders and run down the tops of her arms. She’s almost always covered up in long sleeves, and even her customary nightgowns tend to cover most of her shoulders, so Galinda gets to see those particular freckles so rarely. She just adores those particular freckles.

She only does a halfway job taking her makeup off, because as Elphaba peels the skirt portion of her dress off her legs, leaving her in just a bra and panties, Galinda gets impatient. 

Elphaba is carefully hanging both Galinda’s gown and hers back up as Galinda returns to her. 

“We have a bit of a problem,” Elphaba tells her, the corner of her mouth hiding a little smile. Galinda’s brow furrows. 

“What might that be?” 

“All of my pajamas are in the other room, and I’ve just taken off all my clothes.” 

Galinda wraps her arms around Elphie’s bare waist. “I don’t see how that’s a problem,” she says, and starts on her mission of kissing each freckle on Elphie’s shoulders. “Stay here tonight.” 

“All night?” Elphie asks. Galinda nods. Her fingertips trace patterns on Elphie’s hips. Elphie tenses, holding her breath. “What about your parents?” 

“What about them?” It feels like a rehashed conversation. But Elphaba turns in her arms, and there’s an intense look in her eye that wasn’t there the last time she asked that question. 

“What if they… hear?” Elphaba asks.

Oh. Oh!  

She wants to do this now.  

If Galinda were any less in control of herself, she’d squeal!  

“We’ll be quiet,” Galinda says, an excited and breathless rush. “Oh, we’ll be so quiet! So so so so quiet! The quietest! I know I can be quiet, anyway. You can be quiet, right?” 

“I don’t—I’m not sure,” Elphaba admits. “I’ve never—” 

“I’ll make sure!” Galinda says. “I promise I’ll make sure nobody hears a thing. Not a peep! I’ll—Elphie, I’ll do anything—!” She’s already pulling off her petticoat, herding Elphaba back towards her bed. Elphie falls back into her mattress, and Galinda clambers on top of her. “Whatever you need,” Galinda says, stroking Elphie’s face. 

Elphie beams up at her. “I trust you.” 

It’s more of a slow-going exploration at first. Long kisses and quiet giggles. Galinda’s only done this twice before in her life—and never with another girl—and Elphie’s never done this with anyone before, so they’re both learning as they go. Galinda’s enthusiastic, and Elphie’s receptive, and they fall into an easy, intuitive rhythm.

When Galinda’s hand dips between Elphie’s legs, Elphie gasps. Galinda gasps, too. Elphaba’s so wet, hot and clinging to Galinda’s fingers. She breathes heavily as Galinda circles her clit with a fingertip. At a slightly more direct graze, Elphaba whimpers loudly, and Galinda draws back her hand. 

“Galinda,” she complains.

“We have to be quiet, remember?” 

Elphie rolls her eyes, takes a deep breath, and bites her lip as Galinda replaces her hand. 

(The one thing about doing this back in their suite, Galinda thinks, is that the only people they’ll have to worry about overhearing them are their neighbors. And Galinda cares not one bit if their neighbors at Shiz overhear. Frankly, she and Elphaba would just be returning the favor to a handful of the inconsiderates in their hall.)

But for now, they go slow, and they keep quiet. Every time Elphie makes too loud a noise, Galinda slows or pauses—something she keeps doing for practicality’s sake, but which seems to have the added effect of making Elphie tremble and shudder and grip the sheets in tight fists as Galinda works her up torturously slowly. Elphie’s face is a riot of new expressions. Galinda has never felt so powerful in her life—that with just her hand alone she can coax these reactions out of another person.

(She knows she’s turned on—feels hot and heady and breathless, like she could grind down on Elphie’s thigh or tensed stomach and finish herself off in just a moment's time; almost uncomfortably slick between her own thighs—but she could almost care less about her own pleasure when Elphie is writhing and gasping for breath like this under her touch.)

(That's new. Galinda's always historically been a little more concerned about how she's feeling, when she does this.)

When Elphaba starts to get truly close—so close it would be cruel to slow down, so close there’ll be no stopping it now—Galinda kisses her to swallow the sound. 

She feels more than hears Elphaba’s orgasm ripple through her, and Galinda almost comes just from that. She has to shut her eyes and take a moment.

“Sweetheart,” Elphaba calls her, and Galinda's thighs squeeze together around Elphie’s. Elphaba palms her hips. “Sweetheart,” she says again.

This won’t take much, Galinda thinks. Elphaba’s hands guide her hips to rock forward and back against her thigh. Galinda can’t help the delirious moan that slips out between her teeth, the way her head tips back and her nails dig into the meat of Elphie’s shoulders.

Elphie laughs. “Quiet, Galinda,” she reminds her. 

“Mhm, yes, quiet,” Galinda agrees readily, though she's more concerned with how good it feels to be grinding down against Elphie’s leg. Another little whimper fights loose, and Elphaba drags her face down for kisses.

Even despite her occupied lips—well, Galinda's not nearly as good as Elphie. She's loud loud: gasping and moaning and sighing Elphie's name into her mouth. Another new. (She’s never been like this before; has always managed to stay cogent and aware enough those two times in the past not to make a peep when she shouldn’t, but she just can’t help herself right now. It’s a little disconcerting.)

Elphaba has to keep pausing and shushing her, and, oh, the horrendible tease! It was fun when she did it to Elphie, but it’s no fun the other way around. At one point Galinda makes a particularly damning and egregious noise and Elphaba threatens to stop altogether if Galinda keeps it up, which is terribly mean of her to suggest. She’s still laughing, though, so Galinda thinks she can’t be too upset.

It takes almost no time at all, which Galinda knew it wouldn’t. Still, she doesn't even have time to prepare herself for it when she breaks against Elphie's thigh. Her orgasm slams through her like a rogue wave. Elphaba claps a hand over Galinda’s mouth right as it happens. That’s never happened to her before—she’s never been caught off guard like that.

(Elphie brings out so much new in her.)

Elphaba flips the two of them over, and Galinda trembles contentedly under the soothing pressure of Elphie’s body weight as the last of the aftershocks roll through her.

In the aftermath, the two end up snuggled together in Galinda’s bed, sharing a pillow and sharing breath. In the low light, Elphaba’s green eyes are so dark Galinda could fall right into them. They stare at one another from barely inches away, hands tracing little spirals on one another’s skin, and Galinda sighs softly. 

“I love you, Elphaba Thropp,” she whispers. 

“And I love you, my sweet,” Elphie replies, pressing a kiss to her brow. 

The next morning, Galinda lends Elphaba one of her own nightgowns to go grab breakfast in. It’s pale pink, but she thinks it looks enough like Elphie’s favorite white nightgown to go unremarked upon. 

She should have been smarter, though, because the moment they get down to the breakfast table, Momsicle takes one look at the pink nightgown before leveling a very unimpressed look at Galinda—doing that thing she does where she tries beams a message directly into Galinda’s mind for her alone. 

Elphaba eats breakfast beside her none the wiser, while Galinda squirms under her mother’s silent judgmental scrutiny. 

They spend their last day in Frottica blissfully relaxing. In the morning, they lounge on a hammock in the gardens, cuddled together while Elphie reads her book aloud. In the afternoon, they go down to the river and take another swim. They go out for dinner with Galinda’s moms and feast on fine Gillikin dining, and then come home so Momsie can make them all a homemade dessert (a buttery spiced raspberry crumble—Galinda’s favorite).

The day after, Galinda and Elphaba have to depart for Shiz again. Their goodbyes linger. Momsie sheds more than a few tears, and though Momsicle doesn't cry, she seems equally uneager to let them go. 

“Lo, darling, they're going to be just fine,” she reassures her weepy wife. Turning to the two of them: “Please write as soon as you get back safely,” she says sternly. “Both of you.” 

“We will,” Galinda swears. “We will, we will. But we must be off!” And: “Oh, Momsie, please don’t cry! Remember, it’s not goodbye, it’s farewell.” 

It’s a carriage ride, and then a longer train ride, and an even longer boat ride. She and Elphaba bide the time bickering and pointing out the scenery, trading secrets and making each other laugh. By the time they spot dear old Shiz in the distance, Galinda is aching for a big dining hall dinner with their friends and then a quick retreat to their suite. Whether time in their suite leads to sex or sleep, Galinda doesn’t care—she could go either way, as long as they're in a bed.

“Elphie?” she asks, head tipped sideways onto Elphaba’s shoulder. “Did you have a nice holiday?” 

“Hm.” Elphaba kisses the crown of Galinda’s head. “Y’know what? I actually think it was perfect.” 

Galinda smiles and wraps her arms around Elphie, squeezing.

“Good. I thought it was pretty perfect, too.”