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“Really, Glinda? Couldn’t you keep your cold to yourself? Did you have to get Elphaba sick too?” Fiyero groused from behind the cloth mask tied around his nose and mouth. The cloth was making it slightly more difficult to breathe, but he would be Ozdamned if he was going to inhale the germs floating around their bedroom. He had no desire to share the same fate as Elphaba, who was currently struggling to regain her breath after an unexpected coughing fit.
“You can’t be mean to me. I’m sick,” Glinda pouted. She really was a sorry sight at the moment, Fiyero had to admit. Her cheeks were flushed, and the end of her nose was a raw red from being repeatedly wiped with a handkerchief. Both her nose and eyes were watering. Taking in Glinda’s current state, Fiyero regretted snapping at his sick girlfriend.
But he had told her to stop snuggling up to their girlfriend in the middle of her coughing fits! He had told Elphaba to wear a mask, and that she would catch a cold if she kept letting Glinda hack all over her! Neither of them had listened to him, of course. Glinda was a complete child when she was sick, Elphaba had a soft spot for Glinda when she acted like a child, and both of them were stubborn as mules. It was a dangerous combination.
“Are you sure I’m sick? Because I feel fine,” Elphaba interjected, having sufficiently tamed her respiratory system. Her statement was pretty well undercut by the unusual hoarseness in her voice. Fiyero looked at her in utter disbelief.
“Fae, you nearly coughed up a lung just now!” Elphaba shot him her most withering so what look. A look that might have made any other man shrivel, but Fiyero wasn’t scared of Elphaba. She may be a powerful witch, but historically speaking, Fiyero had always been exempted from her magical fury, so he would not be cowed. “Do you think that’s a normal thing to do? Of course you’re sick.”
“Well, then, you can’t be mean to her, either!” Glinda piped up. She suddenly started coughing. Apparently, the strain of talking back was more than her body could take at the moment. Elphaba immediately knelt by Glinda’s side of the bed, allowing Glinda to bury her face in her chest as the coughing continued.
Fiyero rolled his eyes but supposed it didn’t matter anymore. Elphaba was, without a doubt, infected at this point. He could see the sweat beading up at Elphaba’s temples, dampening raven baby hairs. He could hear the way her voice, still hoarse from her coughing fit, cracked slightly as she murmured reassurances to Glinda.
Oz save Fiyero from these stubborn witches. Now he had two sick girlfriends to take care of. One of whom was still in complete denial. He took a deep breath—hindered slightly by the face covering—and reminded himself that he loved these women who were currently being massive pains in his ass.
For a brief moment, Fiyero yearned for his school days, when he had a different attractive girl or boy on his arm every week, and he never had to contribute anything to those relationships because there was always a line of interested suitors waiting to replace them. Life had been so much easier before he found partners that he genuinely cared about and wanted to be better for. He wouldn’t trade what he had found with Elphaba and Glinda for any amount of carefree dancing through life, though. Even if that meant dealing with them when they were both sick and cranky.
“You alright, love?” Fiyero asked Glinda when she had regained control of her body. She was still slumped against Elphaba. Elphaba was gently stroking Glinda’s hair, which had been neatly braided yesterday but was now showing significant frizz from bedhead.
“I think so,” the frazzled blonde said with a sniffle. “I…I feel kind of lightheaded.”
“Probably because you haven’t eaten anything today. I’ll go get you some more soup, okay?” Elphaba cooed lovingly. Fiyero couldn’t suppress his smile. Only Glinda could bring out this adorably tender side of Elphaba. Seeing Glinda vulnerable and needy like this also turned Fiyero into a sap, he could admit that, but it didn’t make him act like a mother hen quite the way it did Elphaba.
Elphaba would truly do anything for Glinda’s comfort, especially when she was sick. When Glinda first started showing symptoms two days ago, Elphaba had ventured out of their apartment in the residential side of the Emerald City and walked all the way downtown to the restaurant that made Glinda’s favorite soup. She had purchased a large container of it, probably enough to feed all three of them for a week, to keep in the icebox so they could reheat it in small amounts. Glinda hadn’t eaten anything else since, her raw throat refusing to tolerate anything more substantial.
“Soup sounds good,” Glinda agreed, reluctantly pulling away from Elphaba and releasing her grip on the green girl’s shirt. Elphaba stood up, wavering slightly as she did so. Fiyero’s smile quickly morphed into a frown of concern. He watched carefully as Elphaba attempted to steady herself, ready to jump in and right her himself if necessary. He was only willing to let Elphaba pretend to be healthy up until the point it became detrimental to her.
“Maybe you should rest too, Elphaba,” Fiyero tried, knowing full well his attempts would be unsuccessful. Still, he at least had to try. “Why don’t you let me get the food ready?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m fine. I can manage to heat up some soup, at any rate.”
Elphaba strode towards the kitchen. Fiyero trailed close behind, having serious concerns about letting Elphaba handle fire right now. She looked tired, uncoordinated, and like she was trying to move her body through the thickest molasses. When she bent down to grab a bowl from the cabinet, she appeared to lose her balance and before Fiyero could intervene, she was in a heap on the floor.
“Oh,” Elphaba groaned, placing her head on her knees and closing her eyes.
At that point, Fiyero hit his limit. He couldn’t let this continue any longer. Elphaba needed to go lie down, whether she wanted to or not. With a sigh, Fiyero rolled up his sleeves and stepped towards the green woman huddled on the kitchen floor.
“What the—hey! Put me down!” Elphaba growled as she was picked up and flung over Fiyero’s shoulder. Concerningly, even though she struggled with all her might, Fiyero had no problem keeping her pinned in place as he carried her to their bed. He knew he was strong, but so was Elphaba. There was no way he would have been able to manage this so easily if she were healthy. As if to confirm his train of thought, Elphaba began to cough again. The distraction forced her to stop fighting and she went limp against Fiyero’s back.
“Shh, it’s okay,” Fiyero soothed her. He gently rubbed his girlfriend’s back as she coughed spasmodically, but didn’t say any more for fear of setting her off. Unlike Glinda, Elphaba would not stand for being babied.
Glinda may be childish and needy when sick, but Elphaba was definitely the world’s worst patient. She simply didn’t know how to let herself be taken care of, even after years of having two loving partners who would do anything for her in her life. Normally, it took both Fiyero and Glinda tag teaming to force Elphaba to rest. With Glinda out of commission, Fiyero was doing the best he could here.
“Come on, Fae. Let’s get you into bed,” Fiyero said, his tone soft. Elphaba sighed in surrender.
“It doesn’t appear I have any say in this matter.”
“No, you don’t,” Fiyero agreed. Gently, lovingly, he deposited Elphaba’s limp body onto their bed, right next to a concerned, confused, and slightly disoriented from her own illness Glinda.
“I could hex you, you know,” Elphaba said with a scowl, pinning Fiyero with a weakened version of her normally steely glare. For neither the first nor last time that day, he rolled his eyes.
“Could you? Because I wouldn’t even trust you to boil tea in your condition,” he retorted. “You nearly passed out trying to heat up soup!”
“What?!” Upon hearing this information, Glinda snapped to look at Elphaba, her worry evident. “Elphie!”
“I’m just a little dizzy. I could still hex you. If I wanted to.” With every word she spoke, the fight left Elphaba just a little bit more. By the end of her threatening statement, she just sounded exhausted rather than menacing. Fiyero took a mental note of this strategy for future use: let Elphaba be stubborn until she exhausts herself too much to fight back.
Elphaba’s shoulders shook, and her features scrunched up. For a moment, she looked like she might cry. But no, that couldn’t be right. Elphaba almost never cried, and when she did, there were usually warnings beforehand. A trigger or an inciting incident.
“Haaa-choo!” Elphaba sneezed into her sleeve. Then she sneezed a second time, and a third. Glinda grabbed a clean handkerchief from the stash on the bedside table and passed it to Elphaba, sparing Elphaba’s poor sleeve from further indignity as her sneezing fit continued. It went on for an almost impressively long time. Fiyero stopped counting the sneezes after the fifth. Maybe she had been suppressing her sneezes for awhile and they all decided to come out at once, he thought to himself.
“Okay, you are officially sick,” Fiyero declared once Elphaba had calmed down. Of course, the coughing and the near-fainting spell had been proof enough, but the fact that Elphaba’s nose was now running just as much as Glinda’s was an extremely visual indicator of her current illness. “Please, for the love of Oz, do me a favor and stop fighting it. Just relax here with Glinda.”
“But, Yero…” Elphaba whined, and Fiyero knew he had won. She still had to protest, for the sake of her dignity, but Elphaba didn’t whine unless she was out of any meaningful options. “I don’t want to,” she concluded with a pout.
“Oh, come on. There are worse fates than having to stay here with me, aren’t there?” Glinda asked, her voice sounding slightly stuffy. Glinda took the handkerchief from Elphaba’s hand and gently dabbed at her nose with it, trying to avoid causing any unnecessary irritation. Better her than me, Fiyero figured. He already had doubts about the efficacy of the face mask he was wearing, considering he was sharing a room with two people who were spraying germs so heavily. He definitely wasn’t going to be touching Elphaba’s snotty face. He could let the already infected person handle that task.
“You know I don’t mind staying with you. But I don’t like being sick,” Elphaba said in an uncharacteristically small voice.
“I know. Me neither. To be fair, Fiyero did warn us,” Glinda sighed. She shot her boyfriend an apologetic look as she attempted to soothe the sniffling Elphaba.
“Well, I wasn’t going to say, ‘I told you so,’ but since you’re bringing it up…yes, I did.” There was no bitterness in Fiyero’s voice, just mild amusement. His frustration had melted away the second Glinda looked at him with her sad baby blue eyes. The fact that Elphaba looked so pathetic right now only softened him further.
“I’m sorry,” Elphaba mumbled.
“It’s okay, Fae. Let’s just focus on getting you better, alright?” Elphaba shook her head, denying the very proposition of being taken care of, and buried her face in her pillow. Glinda and Fiyero shared a concerned glance. Glinda mouthed, I’ve got this, and Fiyero nodded his understanding.
“Elphie? My head really hurts. Can I cuddle with you?” Clever girl, Fiyero thought with a smirk that was fortuitously hidden behind his mask. Elphaba couldn’t turn down a request that was framed as being for Glinda’s sake. It also probably was a little bit for Glinda’s sake, Fiyero realized. He didn’t get the sense that Glinda was fibbing about her headache. Two birds, one stone, he supposed.
“Of course, my sweet. It can’t do any harm now,” Elphaba said with a hint of resignation. She pulled herself out of her pillow and held out her arms for Glinda, who slipped into them eagerly like they were a warm coat on a freezing day. Glinda immediately reciprocated the embrace, wrapping her own arms around Elphaba and hopefully providing the stubbornly proud woman with some comfort.
“I’m sorry I got you sick,” Glinda sighed, running her hand in lazy patterns across Elphaba’s back. “I just wanted you near me and wasn’t careful about my germs. I was selfish.”
Elphaba shook her head ever so slightly and tightened her grip on Glinda’s waist. “You don’t need to be sorry. I could have said no. I didn’t. I wanted to take care of you, and I don’t regret it. Even if my throat does feel like sandpaper.”
“Ugh, it does, doesn’t it? It really is dreadfulocious.”
“Why don’t I bring you ladies some of that soup?” Fiyero offered. “I’ll make you tea, too.” He leaned down and lovingly stroked each woman’s hair, one with each hand. If it weren’t for the mask he wore, he would have kissed their foreheads, but it would do none of them any good if he got sick too. Two sets of eyes, one green and one blue, looked at him adoringly and gratefully. It did make him feel undeniably desirable to have two beautiful women staring at him like that, even if they were both also snotty messes.
“Can I have extra honey in my tea?” Glinda requested, batting her eyelashes charmingly (or as charming as she could get with her congested voice and dripping nose). Not that she had to do that to get Fiyero to do what she wanted; he was fully wrapped around her little finger and had been for a long time. The eyelash batting was more a learned habit than anything else.
“Of course, princess,” he teased. “Now rest, both of you.”
As he went to stand and return to the kitchen, Elphaba stopped him by grabbing his hand and holding it tightly. “I love you, Yero,” she said softly. “You know that, right?”
“We both love you,” Glinda corrected. “Our handsome prince in shining armor, swooping in to rescue us from our disgustifying cold.”
“Careful, if you keep wantonly complimenting me like that, I’ll think you’re both getting delirious,” Fiyero joked, before his expression softened. “I love you both, too. Let me go get you some food. We’ll have you all fixed up in no time.”
Elphaba relinquished her hold on Fiyero, and her freed hand was immediately captured by the ever-clingy Glinda. Who was now coughing directly into Elphaba’s chest again, because of course she was.
Fiyero knew, if he was being really honest with himself, that he wasn’t merely willing to deal with his two sick, cranky witches. In truth, he was honored to be able to do so. Grateful that they were, in fact, his witches. That privilege was worth more than any amount of hacking, mucus, or stubbornness they could throw at him. And so, he went about the task of getting soup and tea for his beloved partners, focusing on his love and gratitude as a shield against his exhaustion.