Chapter Text
Fiyero was already waiting outside her dorm when she stepped out, her books tucked loosely against her chest.
He pushed off the wall the second he saw her, stepping into her path without hesitation. In one smooth motion, he took her books from her arms and shifted them under his own before holding out his hand.
She took it, a small smile tugging at her lips as she looked up at him. “You know I can carry my own books.”
“You could,” he said. “But then I’d be entirely useless, and I can’t have that. And I’d hate to lose my only redeeming quality.”
She huffed softly, her thumb brushing over the back of his hand without thinking. “You don’t have only one.”
He looked at her, brows lifting slightly. “Oh?”
She hesitated, glancing sideways at him. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
His smile softened as he adjusted her books under his arm.
They walked in step, shoulders brushing every so often as other students passed them.
After a few quiet steps, Fiyero slowed, his gaze drifting toward something just off the corridor.
“What’s that?” he asked.
Elphaba followed his line of sight, brows knitting as she glanced toward the shadowed alcove. “I don’t see anything.”
“Really?” he said, already tugging at her hand.
“Fiyero. What are you...”
He pulled her with him anyway, guiding her into the quiet space before she could protest.
Then he paused, looking around like he’d lost whatever had caught his attention. “Huh. I don’t see it anymore.”
Elphaba rolled her eyes. “Of course you don’t.”
“But,” he added, turning back to her with a grin, “I do see an empty alcove.”
He let go of her hand long enough to set her books down before stepping back in, bracing her against the wall.
Her breath caught.
Biting lightly at her lower lip, she looked up at him, head tilting just slightly, like she was weighing something she hadn’t quite decided yet.
Then she did.
Her hand fisted in the front of his jacket, pulling him down to her.
And kissed him.
It was quick and certain, like she’d made the decision all at once and couldn’t take it back even if she tried.
He reacted just as fast, one hand coming to her waist while the other pressed against the wall beside her.
Her grip tightened on his jacket, holding him there as the kiss deepened enough to steal the breath from her lungs. Her free hand slid up to the nape of his neck, fingers finding his curls as she leaned into him, like she didn’t want the space between them to exist at all.
For a moment, everything else faded.
It was just him.
The familiar pull of him.
The warmth of him.
The steady way he held her there.
Reality slipped back in slowly.
Her breath came uneven as she pulled back just enough to look at him, though the space between them barely changed.
Her fingers were still tangled in his curls, his hand still firm at her waist.
“I’m going to be late,” she murmured, though there was no real complaint in it.
“Well,” Fiyero said, a quiet chuckle in his voice, “you might want to let go of my hair first.”
She tightened her grip for one deliberate second before finally letting go, her hand sliding down to rest briefly against his chest.
Then she leaned in and kissed him again.
Quick.
Like she couldn’t help herself.
Before he could pull her back in, she slipped from his hold and turned to scoop up her books.
Her hand found his again immediately, fingers lacing through his as she tugged him along with her.
******
By the time she slipped out of Sorcery, the corridor had filled again, students spilling out in clusters, voices overlapping as they made their way out of class.
Fiyero was waiting across from the classroom door, one shoulder pressed lazily against the stone like he had nowhere else he needed to be.
Except waiting for her.
He straightened the second he saw her.
“You’re late.”
“I’m not,” she said, though her pace picked up slightly as she crossed to him.
“You are,” he said lightly. “I’ve been here for at least...” He paused, glancing down at his wrist like he was checking the time. “...thirty seconds.”
She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling.
He took her books without asking, shifting them under one arm as his other hand slipped easily into hers.
“Come on,” he said, giving her hand a small tug. “I’m hungry.”
“You’re always hungry.”
“I’m a growing boy.”
She rolled her eyes again, but her fingers tightened around his.
*******
The dining hall was louder than usual, the midday rush in full swing as students filled the long tables, voices overlapping and echoing off the high ceilings.
Fiyero pushed the door open, letting her step in ahead of him.
They wove through the crowd together, his grip on her hand steady as he guided them toward their usual table.
Glinda was already there, scooting over to make room.
Fiyero let go of her hand as Elphaba sat, setting her books down beside her.
“Tea and grilled cheese?” he asked.
“Yes, please.”
“Honey or sugar?”
“Honey.”
He nodded once before heading toward the line.
Elphaba watched him go.
“Honestly,” Glinda said beside her, leaning in slightly, “it’s almost offensive how adorable the two of you are.”
Elphaba didn’t look at her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Mmhm,” Glinda hummed, unconvinced. “He just took your order like you’re married.”
“We are not married.”
“Not yet,” Glinda said brightly.
Elphaba shot her a look, but there was no real bite to it.
Across the room, Fiyero glanced back once, like he knew she was watching.
And winked.
He was already in the middle of telling a story by the time he returned, a small group of boys lingering around him, his eyes wide as he talked. One hand was occupied with the tray while the other moved with his words.
He set the tray down in front of Elphaba, leaned in to press a quick kiss to the top of her head, then dropped into the seat across from her, pulling his plate from the tray without breaking his story.
Elphaba tried to focus on what Glinda was saying.
She really did.
But her attention kept drifting.
Across the table.
To him.
The way his hands moved as he spoke.
The way his voice shifted, animated as he told the story.
Someone said something, Boq maybe, and it made him laugh.
Not the polite version.
Not the easy laugh he gave everyone.
This was different.
Unrestrained.
It lit up his whole face, his eyes crinkling at the corners, his head tipping back slightly as the sound carried across the table.
He pushed a hand through his curls as he tried to recover, still smiling, still caught in it.
She just watched him.
The way the smile lingered after the laughter faded.
The way his eyes stayed soft.
Warm.
Her chest tightened.
She could watch him like this all day.
The thought settled easily.
Her breath faltered, something in her chest shifting, turning into something heavier, something she couldn’t ignore.
Because it wasn’t just that she could.
It was that she wanted to.
That she didn’t want to look away.
The realization came all at once.
Sharp.
Unavoidable.
She loved him.
Her stomach dropped.
The warmth in her chest vanished just as quickly as it had come, replaced with something cold, something sharp that made her feel suddenly unsteady.
The color drained from her face.
Her heart started racing, too fast and too loud, like it was trying to escape her chest.
She went still.
Her gaze dropped to the table, fixing on the grain of the wood, on anything that wasn’t him.
Because she couldn’t look at him now.
Her fingers curled slightly against the edge of the table, trying to hold onto something steady while everything else tilted.
She loved him.
The thought came back, louder this time.
Her throat tightened.
Across from her, Fiyero went still.
“Fae?”
She swallowed hard, forcing her breathing to slow, forcing her expression back into something neutral.
“Mmm?”
She reached for her tea, lifting it to her lips, using the motion as an excuse not to look at him.
“You okay?”
“Yeah,” she said quickly. “I’m okay.”
Inside, her mind looped, relentless.
You love him.
You love him.
You love him.
Her grip tightened around the cup.
She still didn’t look at him.