Work Text:
Before Shiz
Elphaba curls onto her side, knees drawn in, the blanket pulled up to her chin. The room is dark except for the faint glow of the clock on her nightstand.
She watches the numbers change.
She doesn’t know why she stays awake. She’s known for years how this goes. No one will knock on her door.
Tomorrow will pass without comment. No cake. No card. No offhand happy birthday slipped into conversation.
She knows this.
So she doesn’t know why she keeps waiting.
The clock clicks forward, one minute at a time. Each change lands a little heavier than the last, her chest tightening with something she refuses to name. Hope is useless. She learned that early.
Expectation only makes the quiet worse.
Midnight comes.
Nothing happens.
Nothing changes.
The room stays exactly the same.
Silent and empty.
She exhales and rolls over to face the wall. She stays like that for a long moment, listening to her own breathing and the soft hum of her room settling around her.
Eventually, she closes her eyes.
She will survive another birthday by pretending it never mattered at all.
And she will tell herself, like she always does, that she doesn’t mind.
****************
Early Shiz
Elphaba sits on her bed, back against the wall, knees pulled in close. Across the room, Glinda is already asleep, snoring softly.
The clock on the nightstand reads a few minutes to midnight.
She watches the numbers slowly change.
She is not alone this year. She has friends now. People who fill the days with conversation, laughter, and shared notes. People who sit beside her in lectures and walk with her across the Quad without needing a reason.
There is even the faint possibility of something more than friendship, something she keeps carefully out of reach. She does not let herself think about it for long. She does not let herself think about Fiyero at all.
She has not told anyone that when the clock changes, it will be her birthday.
The clock clicks forward.
Midnight comes.
Nothing happens.
Glinda’s snoring stays the same as it has been since she fell asleep. The room remains unchanged.
Elphaba keeps her eyes on the clock for a moment longer before looking away.
She exhales and lets her shoulders relax, as if releasing something she had been holding without realizing it.
This is fine, she tells herself. This is what she chose.
Tomorrow will give her enough to do that she won’t think about it again.
***********
First Birthday with Fiyero
Elphaba lies on her side, facing the nightstand, the faint glow of the clock washing the room in a soft light. Glinda is still out, which isn’t surprising. It is Friday night.
She watches the numbers slowly change and tells herself not to wait. That it is just another day
.
Still, her eyes stay fixed on the clock, following each minute as it passes.
Midnight comes.
She exhales and rolls onto her back, staring up at the ceiling. It is just another day, she repeats to herself. Nothing about it needs to be different.
A soft sound breaks the quiet.
She stills, breath caught halfway in, listening. For a moment she wonders if she imagined it. Then, after a pause, it comes again.
A knock.
Her heart starts to race before she can stop it. She swings her legs over the side of the bed and crosses the room slowly, every step hesitant. Her hand rests on the door longer than necessary before she finally opens it.
Fiyero stands in the hallway.
He is holding a cupcake with a single candle lit at its center. The flame flickers softly, reflected in his eyes when he looks up at her.
“Happy birthday, Fae,” he says quietly.
For a moment, she can only stare.
No one ever tells her happy birthday. No one brings cake. No one shows up at midnight just for her.
“Make a wish,” he adds, just as softly.
She doesn’t move. She doesn’t know what to do with the tightness in her chest, with the way her vision blurs without warning. Tears gather, uninvited. She forces them back, swallowing hard.
Fiyero leans in a little, lowering his voice. “This is the part where you blow out the candle.”
She lets out a shaky breath, meets his eyes, and leans forward. The flame disappears with a soft breath of air.
“I wanted to be the first one to tell you,” he says.
“Thank you,” she answers, barely louder than a whisper. Her voice trembles despite her effort to steady it.
He smiles, gentle and sure. “Go back to sleep. I’ll see you in a few hours.”
He bends and kisses her softly, then presses the cupcake into her hands as he steps back, turning to leave.
“Fiyero.”
He stops and turns, eyebrows lifting slightly.
Her gaze drops to the cupcake, then lifts back to him. A single tear slips free, tracing a quiet path down her cheek.
“Stay?”
They have never done this before. They always say goodnight at the door. Always leave things neatly contained. But something in her aches for him to be here, for the quiet not to return just yet.
“Are you sure?” he asks.
She nods.
He steps fully inside and closes the door behind him, careful not to let it latch too loudly.
Elphaba moves back toward the bed, still holding the cupcake like she isn’t quite sure where to put it.
Fiyero sits on the edge of the mattress and pulls off his boots, one at a time, setting them neatly aside. He shrugs out of his jacket and drapes it over the back of her desk chair. The room feels different with him in it, fuller and steadier.
“You know you have a habit of making yourself at home,” she says quietly.
He lies back first, propped briefly on one elbow as he smiles at her. “Come on.”
She sets the cupcake on the nightstand and climbs into bed beside him. She hesitates for only a second before turning onto her side, her back to him.
He shifts closer and draws her in, his arm sliding around her waist. She fits against him easily, her legs tangling with his without thought, her back settling into the solid warmth of his chest.
His hand rests at her stomach, steady and grounding.
“I’ve got you for dinner tonight too,” he murmurs into her hair. “If that’s okay.”
She nods.
“Okay,” she says.
For a moment, neither of them moves. His breathing evens out behind her, and she lets herself sink into it. After a beat, she reaches back and catches his hand, holding on.
“Thank you,” she says again, quieter than before.
His fingers curl around hers in response, a silent answer.
And for the first time she can remember, she falls asleep without watching the clock.
***************
Domestic Birthday
There is no waiting, no counting minutes in the dark.
She is asleep when the clock turns midnight. Curled on her side, her breathing slow and even. Fiyero is curled behind her.
He is awake.
He watches the numbers change quietly in the dark. When midnight comes, he brushes his thumb lightly along her arm.
“Hey,” he murmurs.
She stirs, frowning faintly, not quite awake yet. He tries again, gentler.
“Fae.”
Her eyes flutter open. She blinks, disoriented, gaze unfocused as she looks back at him. “What?” she asks, her voice thick with sleep.
“It’s your birthday,” he says softly.
She goes still.
Not in the way she used to. Not braced.
Just surprised.
“Oh,” she says after a moment.
She doesn’t look at the clock. She only turns to face him.
He wraps his arms around her, holding her there. “Happy birthday,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
She shifts closer, tucking her face into his chest.
“Go back to sleep,” he murmurs. “We’ve got all day.”
She hums softly in response, already drifting. Within moments, her breathing evens out again.
Fiyero watches her for a minute longer before closing his eyes.
And for once, midnight passes without her noticing at all.
**************
Post-Shiz
Elphaba walks slowly, careful with each step, one baby tucked against her shoulder, warm and miserable. Small fingers are clenched in the fabric of her shirt, breath coming in uneven little sighs.
Fiyero walks a few paces ahead of her with the other baby, murmuring softly, pacing the length of the corridor before turning back again. Both babies are sick. Both of them have been awake for hours. Elphaba’s head aches, her throat raw, her body heavy with exhaustion.
They have been doing this all night.
She doesn’t know what day it is, let alone the time.
Her world has narrowed to the weight in her arms, the slow rhythm of walking, the hope that one of them might finally settle.
Somewhere nearby, a clock chimes.
The sound barely registers.
Fiyero hears it.
He slows, then turns back toward her. He watches her for a moment, the way she keeps moving, the way she doesn’t even look up. Then he steps close, coming up behind her, careful not to jostle the baby she’s holding.
He leans in, his mouth near her ear.
“Happy birthday, my love,” he whispers.
She blinks.
The words take a second to land. When they do, her shoulders drop just slightly, the tension easing in a way she hadn’t realized was still there.
A quiet sound escapes her, half laugh and half exhale.
She leans back into him, the brief press of her body against his.
He kisses the top of her head.
They continue to walk.
And Elphaba does not notice the clock at all.