Chapter Text
Elphaba loathed waiting.
She loathed it on principle, on practicality, on a deeply personal, soul-level irritation that buzzed beneath her skin like an unsolved equation. Waiting meant surrendering control to other people’s whims, and Galinda’s whims, while usually dear, pink and perfumed, were still whims all the same.
Based on the sharp, uneven rhythm of boots scuffing stone beside her, Fiyero didn’t enjoy it either.
“Just a clock tick, dearests,” Galinda had trilled, already half-turned away, one gloved hand fluttering as she was immediately swallowed by a knot of adoring students. “I simply must say hello.”
‘Clock tick,’ Elphaba thought sourly. ‘If Galinda’s concept of time were applied to all things, half of Oz would be on fire.’
Any other day, Elphaba might have borne it with more grace. Today, she was cold. Not merely uncomfortable, but the bone-deep, teeth-aching sort of cold that made her magic stir irritably under her skin, she hadn’t had the time to fetch her heaviest coat from Nessa’s room after Father finally mailed it in the middle of this harsh winter weather and she wasn’t going to wear any of Galinda’s furs so a light jersey with a woollen hat it was.
Munchkinland winters were polite affairs. This Gilikin chill, worsened by the damp breath of water and the vast, open desert beyond, felt personal. Like the land itself had decided she did not belong here and would like her to know it.
She tucked her hands beneath her arms, shoulders hunching despite herself.
Fiyero sighed again, long and theatrical, pacing a tight loop near her. He was bundled in layers, scarf knotted carelessly, coat thick and expensive, boots clearly made for harsher climates than this. Even so, impatience radiated off him like static.
“The Vinkus is mostly mountainous desert, right?” Elphaba asked suddenly. The question slipped out before she could stop it, curiosity nudged loose by discomfort.
Fiyero halted mid-step. His bright blue eyes softened when they found her, as if the restlessness evaporated the moment his attention settled on her face.
“Yeah,” he said easily. “Dry heat. Cold nights, but nothing like this.” He grimaced slightly. “Honestly, of all the schools I’ve been dragged through, Shiz is the coldest. Gilikin does not play around.” His gaze flicked toward Galinda, glowing in pinks and whites, perfectly coiffed and laughing. “I don’t know how she thrives. She looks like winter personally invited her.”
Elphaba smiled despite herself. “She’s talented at confoundifying us mere mortals,” she said. “And she was born here. I imagine the cold learned to fear her early on.”
Her teeth chattered before she could stop them.
Fiyero’s brows knit together. He took a step closer, then another, until the space between them shrank to something intimate without either of them quite acknowledging it. He reached for her hand without ceremony.
“Hells,” he muttered. “You’re freezing.”
Elphaba startled, more from the sudden contact than the exclamation.
“Where are your gloves?” he demanded, already tugging her hands free from her sleeves. “Why didn’t you say something? Come here.”
Before she could protest, his coat was off his shoulders and settling around hers, heavy and warm and unmistakably his. The scent of leather and something clean and sun-warmed clung to it. He guided her hands, firm but gentle, pressing them flat against his chest beneath his shirt.
She blinked up at him, thoughts stuttering.
“You are…very warm,” she said faintly. “But I’m not certain why my hands needed to be precisely there.”
He grinned, wide and boyish, dimples flashing like he knew exactly how devastating they were. “Proof,” he said. “I’ve got a heart.”
She snorted before she could stop herself, heat creeping into her ears, turning them a deeper green. “Yes, well,” she shot back, snark rising to meet her fluster, “my concern was never that you lacked a heart. It’s the self-professed brainlessness that remains under investigation.”
His laugh burst free, bright and unguarded, and for a moment Elphaba forgot about the cold entirely. Forgot about Galinda. Forgot about the careful lines she usually kept drawn between herself and other people especially ones who make her heart do funny things.
She sank into the warmth of his coat, into the steady, living thrum beneath her palms. His eyes held hers, impossibly blue, curious and amused and something else she did not want to name. Her magic quieted, soothed, as if recognizing something dangerous and familiar all at once.
Then Galinda’s laugh rang out, clear and perfect as a bell.
Reality snapped back into place.
Elphaba jerked her hands away as if burned, stepping back and clutching the coat tighter around herself. The realization crashed down hard and sudden: Galinda. Best friend. Boyfriend. Lines crossed without meaning to.
She cleared her throat, heart racing now for entirely different reasons.
“Thank you,” she said quickly, words tumbling over each other. “For the coat. Truly. But I—I just remembered I was supposed to meet Doctor Dillamond about something I forgot. A thing. Important. Very academic.”
She shoved the coat back into his hands, avoiding his eyes.
“I’ll tell Galinda,” Fiyero said softly, watching her with a thoughtful tilt of his head.
She nodded, already retreating. As she walked away, the cold rushed back in, sharp and immediate, but it didn’t reach quite as deep as before. Her hands still felt warm.
Too warm.
‘And that,’ Elphaba thought grimly, ‘was a problem.’