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Chapter Text

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Boq had exactly three seconds to process two things:

1. His precious mashed potatoes were about to become collateral damage in the latest Upland-Thropp showdown.  
2. Jesper, the peer-appointed betting pool bookie, was already taking wagers while weaving through crowded tables.

"You stole my pudding cup!" Galinda shrieked, brandishing a spork like a rapier.  

Elphaba leaned back in her chair, deliberately licking a smear of chocolate from her thumb. "Prove it."

"THAT'S MY PUDDING ON YOUR LIPS RIGHT NOW!" Galinda's voice hit a register only dogs could hear.

Chaos erupted as Galinda's retaliatory jello cube took out three innocent bystanders before exploding across Elphaba's copy of Advanced Econometrics. The entire cafeteria froze as Elphaba slowly wiped her fingers across the stained pages, her glare burning hotter than a dragon's breath.

"Oh," she said in that terrifyingly quiet voice, "it's on."

Upland vs. Thropp: Round 17

• 5:1 Thropp does it to get a reaction  
• 15:1 Upland starts crying
• 50:1 They share the next pudding (NEW LONG SHOT)

Jesper darted between tables, his money pouch jingling madly.

Boq barely grabbed his tray before the food war escalated into what history would record as The Great Pudding Massacre. 

Nessa barely dodged a whole cream pie as a rogue spoonful of whipped cream hit Avaric square in the face. Somewhere in the chaos, Galinda was standing on a table waving a pudding cup like a battle standard while Elphaba calmly constructed a fortress out of lunch trays.

From the faculty table, Professor Nikidik sighed and added "table manners" to next week's general assembly agenda.

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Jesper was already moving around the auditorium before the debate started.

"Today's topic: Uniform Dress Codes," Shenshen announced, already seeing her academic career flash before her eyes.   

Galinda Upland exploded from her seat like a tornado, her pink skirts swirling dramatically. "Uniforms are essential for maintaining proper decorum and—"

"Bullshit," Elphaba interrupted from the opposition bench. "They're classist, ugly, and your bow is literally violating six dress code rules right now."  

Galinda's hands flew to her oversized hair ornament. "This is high fashion!"  

"Exactly."  

The debate devolved into what the school paper would call "a passionate exchange of differing perspectives" (but everyone knew it was just them screaming about socioeconomic inequality while making aggressive eye contact). 

When Galinda literally climbed onto her chair to argue about "self-expression through accessories," Elphaba did the unthinkable —she laughed. Not a scoff. A real, unfiltered laugh that made Galinda freeze mid-tirade.

The room held its breath as they stared—Galinda pink and breathless on her perch, Elphaba grinning up at her like she'd hung the moon.

Upland vs. Thropp: Round 31

• 3:1 Upland cries (again)    
• 7:1 Thropp storms out  
• 100:1 They kiss to shut each other up (LOCKED)

They didn't kiss. But when Galinda tripped getting down and Elphaba caught her? The club lost its damn mind.

The next day's school paper headline:

Debate Club Suspended Indefinitely After 'Upland-Thropp Incident’

Shenshen retired as captain.

And Professor Nikidik started requiring signed liability waivers for public speaking events.

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Madame Mirthless adjusted her glasses as the latest screaming match echoed through the stacks.  

"YOU DEFACED MY TEXTBOOK!" Galinda shrieked, waving Gillikinese History like a weapon. Pages fluttered to the floor, revealing Elphaba's aggressive margin notes:  

• [CITATION NEEDED] (under "Queen Ozma's peaceful reign")
• [BIASED OVERSIMPLIFICATION] (circling an entire chapter on peasant revolts)
• [GALINDA, THIS IS WRONG - TURN TO PAGE 304] (with a hand-drawn arrow pointing to Galinda's own marginal heart doodles)

Elphaba smirked. "Consider it a public service." 

Galinda's shriek disturbed a family of owls in the rafters. "PUBLIC SER— YOU ARROGANT—"

The betting pool's chalkboard near periodicals updated in real time:  

Upland vs. Thropp: Round 49

• 3:1 Upland highlights Thropp's notes in pink  
• 7:1 Thropp cites her sources aloud just to watch Upland combust
• 10:1 They end up in the romance section by "accident"
• 500:1 Madame Mirthless snaps and bans them forever

The Head Librarian massaged her temples as Galinda began counter-annotating in glitter pen:

• "ELPHABA THROPP IS A MONSTER" (with a smiley face)
• "PAGE 304 IS WRONG TOO" (underlined three times)
• "STOP BEING SMART IT'S ANNOYING" (in bubble letters)

The "When Will They Kiss?" jar at the circulation desk exploded with coins as students abandoned their studies to watch the showdown. A first-year fainted when Elphaba snorted at Galinda's notes. Avaric started hyperventilating when Galinda stole Elphaba's quill and stuck it behind her ear.

As Madame Mirthless locked up that night, she wrote one last bet on the chalkboard:

• 1 MILLION:1 They get married here just to spite me

(...and quietly added a gold coin to the jar.)

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The gymnasium echoed with the distinctive thwack of a tippy ball being spiked with enough force to kill a man. Avaric barely dodged as the projectile grazed his ear, embedding itself in the wall behind him with a sickening squelch.

Elphaba and Galinda were locked in what could only be described as the most sexually tense athletic showdown in Shiz history.  

"Stop hogging the ball, Thropp!" Galinda Upland's shriek could shatter glass as she stomped her foot, sending her sweatband (pink, bedazzled, and entirely impractical) sliding down her forehead.

"Stop missing the ball, Upland!" Elphaba Thropp caught the next serve one-handed without looking. Her smirk was downright criminal.

Jester ran alongside the court, his chalkboard currently being used as a makeshift shield.

Upland vs. Thropp: Round 53

• 2:1 Upland "accidentally" falls on Thropp  
• 5:1 Thropp "helps her up" but it's aggressive
• 13:1 They break the net (literally or metaphorically)

"You're cheating!" Galinda accused, adjusting her (now lopsided) ponytail with theatrical indignation.

Elphaba wiped sweat from her brow with the hem of her shirt—an action that made Galinda's serve go wildly off-course. "Explain," she drawled, "how one cheats at tippy ball."

"With your—your—" Galinda flailed, face flushing. "Unfair height advantage!"

The gym teacher blew her whistle.  "ENOUGH!" Coach Moxley stormed onto the court, her clipboard snapping in half from sheer frustration.

"I've had it! Either kiss and make up or I'm benching you both for the season!"

The entire class erupted in cheers. 

Galinda turned pink. 

Elphaba pretended not to smile.  

Later, as Avaric limped out of the gym, he heard the coach mutter:

"Next semester, I'm teaching chess."

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It was the Shiz University’s annual Oz Day Festival and the air was thick with the scent of funnel cakes and unspoken tension.

Galinda Upland, perched atop the makeshift stage in a cloud of tulle and righteous fury, was midway through her disastrous rendition of "Just Kiss Me Already" when it happened.

Elphaba Thropp, who had been lurking near the buffet like a brooding storm cloud, suddenly SNAPPED.

"OH, FOR OZ’S SAKE!"

The microphone shrieked as Elphaba stormed the stage, snatching it from Galinda’s hands. 

"I CAN’T TAKE THIS ANYMORE!" Elphaba’s voice boomed across the quad, her green skin flushed. "YOU’RE IMPOSSIBLE! YOU’RE LOUD! YOUR SINGING IS OBJECTIVELY TERRIBLE! AND I—" She choked. "I’M COMPLETELY IN LOVE WITH YOU!"

Silence.

Galinda blinked.

"IT TOOK YOU LONG ENOUGH!" she shrieked, launching herself at Elphaba like a glittery missile.

They collided in a tangle of limbs, Elphaba’s arms wrapping around Galinda’s waist as Galinda’s hands fisted in her collar. The kiss was messy, desperate, and long overdue—a perfect storm of pent-up frustration and adoration.

The student body LOST IT.

• Shenshen screamed, clutching her 1000:1 public declaration betting slip like a holy relic.
• Boq fainted directly into the punch bowl.
• Avaric, who had transferred schools specifically to avoid this moment, somehow STILL heard the commotion from Quadling Country and screamed into the void.
• Jesper collapsed onto the grass, exhausted but vindicated, his money pouch finally at peace.

As the newly-coupled pair finally broke apart (reluctantly), the crowd ERUPTED into cheers, applause, and chaotic betting pool payouts.

Then—

"Alright, new bet!" Some fool from the back yelled. "When will they break up?"

The quad went dead silent.

Galinda and Elphaba turned in unison, their expressions dangerous.

"NEVER," Elphaba growled.

"SHUT UP," Galinda added, flipping her hair.

"RUUUUDE," Avaric yelled from Quadling Country.

Jesper, still sprawled on the ground, weakly raised a hand. "New rule. No bets on true love.”

The student body agreed unanimously. 

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Galinda, of course, framed the betting pool ledger and hung it above their headboard.

And Jesper?

He retired a legend.

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Chapter Text

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Pfannee's eye twitched as another dreamy sigh cut through the library's fragile silence. For the seventh time in twenty minutes.

He risked a glance over his Linguification & Lexical Theory textbook and immediately regretted it.

There, at the adjacent study table, sat the bane of Shiz University's academic productivity: Galinda Upland, draped across Elphaba Thropp's lap, waving a leather-bound poetry book with one hand while the other played idly with her girlfriend's collar.

"Elphie," Galinda purred, twirling a lock of Elphaba's hair around her finger. "Read this line again. It sounds so much better in your voice."

Pfannee watched in horrified fascination as Thropp—notorious loner, legendary grouch, and general menace to Gillikin social norms— actually obliged.

"And thus my heart," Elphaba murmured, voice like dark velvet, "in verdant flame —”

Galinda made a noise that definitely didn't belong in a library and snuggled closer.

Pfannee's last nerve snapped.

His textbook slammed shut with enough force to send a first-year diving for cover. "Must you?" he hissed.

Galinda didn't even look up from where she was now tracing the line of Elphaba's jaw.

"Yes," she said, saccharine-sweet. "We must."

Elphaba did eventually look up—just long enough to lock eyes with Pfannee and smirk before whispering the next verse directly into Galinda's ear.

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The lunchtime chatter in the dining hall hit its usual midday crescendo when Galinda made her grand entrance, Elphaba trailing behind her girlfriend like a brooding shadow. 

They made their way to their usual table—the one in the center of the room, because of course. Galinda slid onto the bench with a flutter of fabric, immediately tucking herself against Elphaba's side like a particularly pampered cat claiming its favorite sunspot.

Elphaba, for her part, began unpacking their lunch with the solemn focus of a scholar conducting an experiment—except she kept pausing to tuck a loose curl behind Galinda's ear, or to adjust the collar of her dress where it had slipped.

Then —

Galinda plucked a single, perfect strawberry from her plate, holding it aloft between thumb and forefinger like a jewel. The fruit glistened obscenely in the sunlight, a single drop of juice threatening to fall.

A hush fell over the dining hall.

"Elphie, darling," she cooed, drawing out the syllables like she was savoring them. "You simply must try this."

Elphaba, who had spent the better part of a year insisting she hated strawberries, didn't hesitate. She leaned in, slow and deliberate, her dark eyes locked onto Galinda's as she parted her lips—

A drop of juice lingered on her lower lip.

Galinda’s resulting giggle was triumphant.

Then—

The Lick.

Without breaking eye contact, Galinda dragged her tongue along her own fingertips, cleaning away the juice with a smirk that could melt steel.

The dining hall lost its collective mind.

Shenshen inhaled her tea so violently it came out her nose.

Fiyero stood so fast his chair toppled backward. "I'm just… gonna go to the bathroom," he announced, and stormed out.

Boq, two tables over, slowly lowered his fork and slid beneath the table.

Nessa made direct, despairing eye contact with the ceiling. "Why," she asked the gods, "must we suffer?"

Professor Nikidik sighed and pulled out a flask. "This," he told no one in particular, "is why I drink."

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The first-year never stood a chance. 

Arms overloaded with scrolls for Professor Nikidik's seminar, they rounded the corner of the west stairwell only to freeze mid-step. 

There, pressed against the stone wall in a tangle of skirts and billowing black fabric, were Shiz's most notorious couple.

Elphaba had Galinda caged between her arms, one hand braced above Galinda's head while the other tangled possessively in the ribbons of her bodice. Galinda's back arched against the wall, her breathless laughter echoing off the vaulted ceilings as Elphaba murmured something that made her moan —

The first-year's scrolls hit the ground with a thunderous crash, unfurling down the staircase like accusatory fingers pointing at the scene.

Two heads snapped toward the noise.

Galinda blinked, her lips still swollen and pink. Elphaba didn't even have the decency to look abashed—just quirked an eyebrow at the trembling first-year as Galinda buried her face in her shoulder, body shaking with suppressed giggles.

"Oops," Elphaba deadpanned, not sounding remotely sorry.

The moment stretched.

Then—

Professor Nikidik descended the stairs like an avenging spirit, his robes billowing behind him. He took in the scene with one withering glance:

• His best student pressed against a wall
• His other best student doing the pressing
• A traumatized first-year
• A mile of scattered parchment

"Must you corrupt the architecture too?" he sighed, stepping over the scrolls without breaking stride.

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"Is that..." Shenshen squinted across the room. "Is Thropp wearing Galinda’s tie?"

There, waiting near the entrance, was Elphaba—her uniform impeccable save for one glaring detail: the cerulean silk tie knotted around her throat was decidedly not standard issue. The embroidered initials "GU" gleamed subtly along the edge.

Galinda arrived moments later with a distinctly not-Galinda black vest buttoned over her blouse and a not-Upland family crest pin displayed prominently on her collar.

"Explain," Crope demanded, cornering them near the lockers.

Elphaba adjusted her—Galinda's—tie with deliberate slowness. "Uniform regulations state accessories must be school colors." She flicked the cerulean silk. "This is technically blue."

Galinda beamed, fingers brushing the crest on her collar. "And family heirlooms are always exempt from dress codes."

Pfannee's eye twitched. "That's not how this works—"

Elphaba shrugged , “she lost a bet.”

Galinda gasped. “ Liar! You stole my—”

“You left them on our bed.”

“ After you —!”

Elphaba smirked. “Finish that sentence, Upland.”

Galinda turned pink .

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The hallway outside the third-floor supply closet had fallen into an unnatural hush—the kind of silence that always preceded disaster at Shiz University. 

A group of students exchanging notes near the water fountain froze mid-sentence as the first incriminating sound slithered through the door: first a sharp bang (a shoulder hitting shelves?), then a breathless, half-stifled "Elphie —" that dissolved into unmistakable giggles. The sound of fabric rustling, the slick snap of a ribbon giving way, and then—oh Oz—was that a moan?

When the door finally burst open, it did so with enough force to rattle the framed portraits along the wall. Galinda spilled into the hallway like a storm breaking, her usual pristine appearance in ruins. Her lips, normally painted a perfect rosebud pink, were smudged beyond recognition, the color straying across her cheek in a telltale streak. Her hair, which had been meticulously pinned into an elaborate updo that morning, now tumbled around her shoulders in wild disarray. 

The real damning evidence, though, was the scarf— Elphaba’s scarf, the dark emerald one she never let anyone borrow—knotted haphazardly around Galinda’s throat, doing absolutely nothing to hide the fresh bruise blooming at her collarbone.

"We were studying," Galinda declared to the stunned audience, chin lifted in defiance even as her voice wobbled.

Behind her, Elphaba leaned against the doorframe, looking like the cat who’d not only gotten the cream but knocked over the jug for good measure. Her uniform was rumpled in all the wrong places—shirt untucked, sleeves rolled to the elbows, and, most incriminating of all, a pink ribbon (undoubtedly Galinda’s) tied around her wrist like a trophy.

"Political Theory," she added, deadpan.

The hallway erupted. 

Someone’s notebook hit the floor with a slap. One student made a noise like a teakettle boiling over. From the back of the crowd, a voice groaned, "Again?" while another muttered, "At least take her to dinner first, Thropp."

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Galinda had spent weeks wearing Elphaba down.

"Just once," she'd wheedled between kisses against her girlfriend's collarbone. "It would be fun," she'd murmured, tracing idle patterns over the muscles usually hidden beneath layers of dark fabric.

Elphaba had held out valiantly—until Galinda played her trump card: pouting.

Which was how they found themselves in the university gymnasium on a perfectly ordinary Thursday afternoon, Elphaba scowling at the weight rack while Galinda bounced on her toes beside her.

"This was a mistake," Elphaba muttered as she reluctantly peeled off her jacket, revealing a fitted black tank top that clung to every devastating line of muscle.

Galinda's grin turned wicked. "Oh, absolutely."

The first clink of Elphaba adjusting the barbell might as well have been a starter pistol. Heads swiveled. Dumbbells clattered to the floor.

Because Oz above— Elphaba Thropp was stacked.

Not in the showy, preening way, but in the lean, coiled strength of someone who'd spent years hauling heavy spellbooks, scaling library ladders, and (apparently) doing push-ups in her dorm room at 5 AM. Every movement sent ropes of muscle shifting beneath sun-kissed green skin—biceps bulging obscenely as she tested the weight, shoulders rolling as she settled into position, abs audibly ruining multiple lives as she started to flex.

Galinda—who knew exactly what her girlfriend was working with—still nearly swallowed her tongue. "Oh," she breathed, forgetting to pretend this was about fitness. "Oh, no."

She realized her error precisely three seconds into Elphaba’s first set.

The entire gym had gone preternaturally still, the only sound the clink of the barbell being re-racked as Elphaba sat up, rolling her shoulders with a satisfied groan. A single bead of sweat traced its way down the corded muscle of her neck—

—and that's when it happened.

"Need a spotter, Thropp?"

The voice came from one of the rugby players—some broad-shouldered idiot with more confidence than sense, already sauntering over with what he clearly thought was a charming grin.

Galinda's grip on her water bottle turned deadly.

Elphaba blinked slowly, like a panther assessing particularly stupid prey. "I have a spotter."

The rugby player—bless his doomed soul—leaned against the weight rack, flexing for emphasis. "Yeah, but does your spotter know how to properly handle—"

Galinda moved faster than anyone had ever seen her move outside of a shoe sale.

One moment she was on the bench—the next, she'd inserted herself between Elphaba and the interloper, her smile sharp enough to draw blood.

"Oh, darling," she cooed, patting the rugby player's cheek with just enough force to qualify as a slap. "Let me explain something." Behind her, Elphaba leaned back on her hands, visibly enjoying the show. 

"This?" Galinda gestured to her girlfriend's entire existence. " Mine. The view? Mine. The privilege of watching her lift? Mine. Your continued ability to walk?" Her eyes glittered. "Currently under review."

Elphaba chose that moment to stand—looming over both of them with the casual grace of someone who could probably bench press a small carriage. She didn't say anything. She didn't need to. The way she curled one arm around Galinda's waist—biceps flexing—was punctuation enough.

The interloper fled.

Galinda whirled on Elphaba the second he was gone. "This is your fault!"

Elphaba, grinning like the cat who got the cream: "You wanted me to come to the gym."

Galinda, realizing the monster she'd created: "I hate you."

Elphaba, leaning down to kiss the lie from her lips: "No, you don't."

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The sky split open without warning, releasing a torrent of rain that sent students shrieking and scrambling for cover across the quad. Backpacks were hoisted over heads, papers were abandoned to their soggy fate, and the stone pathways became rivers in seconds.

All except for two figures who remained perfectly, infuriatingly dry.

A sophomore pressing themselves under the narrow eaves of the history building blinked water from their lashes just in time to see Elphaba Thropp— infamous, terrifying, brilliant Elphaba Thropp —lift a single hand and snap.

The effect was instantaneous.

Raindrops froze midair, then curved around the couple in a shimmering dome, each droplet hissing into emerald-tinged steam as it met the invisible barrier. The sundial they stood beside became an island in the storm, the carved numbers glowing faintly green from reflected magic.

Galinda—because of course it was Galinda with her—didn't so much as flinch. Instead, she beamed up at Elphaba like this was just another Tuesday, like her girlfriend hadn't just rewritten local weather patterns on a whim. Then, with the same effortless grace she used to devastate debate teams and ruin house points, she fisted both hands in Elphaba's lapels and yanked.

The kiss was anything but polite.

When they finally broke apart, Galinda's lips were kiss-swollen, her cheeks flushed. "Show-off," she murmured, the words warm against Elphaba's mouth.

Elphaba's hands tightened at Galinda's waist, her usual deadpan tone fraying at the edges. "You love it."

The sophomore's heart did something complicated and painful in their chest. "I want that," they whispered, unaware they'd spoken aloud until the girl next to them nodded fervently.

The moment shattered as Tibbett came barreling past, his shoes skidding on the wet stones. "I don't!" he howled to no one in particular, his arms windmilling as he nearly face-planted into a puddle.

The storm raged on. The dome held. And Elphaba, because she was terrible, leaned down to whisper something that made Galinda burst with laughter as they stood in the rain.

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The remaining sane students huddled in the tavern off-campus, nursing drinks and mourning simpler times.

"Remember," Crope slurred into his cider, "when their biggest scandal was glaring at each other during lectures?"

A chorus of wistful sighs.

Tibbett wiped away a fake tear. "The good old days, when Thropp would ‘accidentally’ spill ink on Upland’s dresses, and Upland would ‘accidentally’ charm Thropp’s boots to squeak incessantly for a week."

"Or when they’d argue in full sentences instead of—" Pfannee gagged, "—that look they do now."

A first-year (who had never known the Before Times) blinked. "Wait… they weren’t always like this?"

The veterans exchanged glances.

"Oh, you sweet summer child," Shenshen whispered. "Once upon a time, they just… hated each other. Publicly. Sanely."

A moment of silence for the lost era.

Then—

A messenger burst in, panting. "NEW ALERT! They’re slow-dancing in the library again!"

Glasses were drained in unison. The coping mechanisms had failed.

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Nessa had known her sister her entire life.

She had seen Elphaba stubbornly silent through scraped knees and harsh words, had watched her square her shoulders against the weight of their father’s disapproval, had learned long ago that softness was not something her sister wore easily.

Which was why the scene before her now felt like something out of a dream.

The courtyard was bathed in golden afternoon light. Nessa sat beneath the ancient elm tree, her embroidery forgotten in her lap as she watched her sister and Galinda by the fountain.

Galinda was mid-rant about some perceived injustice (Professor Nikidik's grading system, perhaps, or the tragedy of wrinkled ribbons), her hands fluttering dramatically through the air. Elphaba leaned against the fountain's edge, watching with an expression Nessa had never seen before—not just tolerance, but delight , as if Galinda's passion was the most fascinating thing in the world.

Then Galinda stumbled over an uneven stone.

Elphaba moved before Nessa could blink. One moment she was lounging, the next she'd caught Galinda's waist with both hands, steadying her with effortless grace.

"Honestly, Upland," Elphaba murmured, but there was no bite to it—just warmth, just fondness, as she carefully brushed a loose curl behind Galinda's ear.

Galinda beamed, pressing closer. "You like me clumsy."

"I like you alive," Elphaba corrected, but she was smiling—actually smiling, soft and unguarded in a way Nessa had never witnessed.

Then Galinda whispered something Nessa couldn't hear, and Elphaba—

Elphaba blushed.

Not the faint pink of embarrassment, but a proper, full-faced flush that darkened her green skin. She ducked her head, but not before Nessa saw the way her eyes crinkled at the corners, the way her hands tightened ever so slightly around Galinda's waist.

Nessa's needlework slipped from numb fingers.

Because this wasn't just love. This was adoration , pure and unashamed, written in every line of her sister's body—in the way she leaned into Galinda's touch, how her shoulders relaxed when Galinda laughed, the quiet wonder in her expression as if she couldn't quite believe her luck.

Across the courtyard, Galinda rose on her toes to press a kiss to Elphaba's cheek, and Elphaba—

Elphaba chased the contact when Galinda pulled away, just for a second, just enough for Nessa to see the depth of her devotion.

Nessa pressed a hand to her suddenly tight throat. 

Her sister, her guarded, prickly sister, was happy.

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The whispers had reached a fever pitch across Shiz University's campus. Notes were passed in lecture halls, hushed conversations died the moment they entered a room, and an alarming number of students had taken to dramatically sighing while clutching their chests during meals.

It all came to a head one afternoon in the library, when Galinda—perched comfortably in Elphaba's lap while "studying" —happened to glance up and notice the dozen pairs of eyes quickly looking away from them.

"Oh!" she said, blinking in surprise. A wicked grin spread across her face as she tapped Elphaba's shoulder. "Elphie dearest, I do believe we're causing a scandal."

Elphaba didn't even glance up from her book. "Good."

Galinda twisted to face her properly, the movement making her skirt ruffle dramatically. "No, but really—look at poor Shenshen over there. She's gone positively scarlet!"

This time Elphaba did look, her gaze sweeping across the room where multiple students immediately found their textbooks suddenly fascinating. 

A slow, dangerous smile curled at the edges of her mouth.

Galinda gasped in mock horror. "You're enjoying this!"

"Not at all," Elphaba lied smoothly, her fingers tracing idle patterns on Galinda's waist.

"Aww," Galinda cooed, leaning in until their noses nearly touched. "Should we tone it down? For their sake?"

Elphaba's grip tightened possessively. "Absolutely not."

The resulting squeal Galinda let out was loud enough to make Madame Mirthless consider retirement (again).

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The next day, they arrived at breakfast wearing each other's colors—Galinda in emerald green ribbons, Elphaba with a blush pink scarf. The dining hall's collective groan could be heard all the way in the Emerald City.

Jesper, watching from the sidelines, wiped away a single tear. "They grow up so fast."

Avaric's distant scream of rage was, as always, the perfect soundtrack to their love story.

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