Table: Envy
Title: Envy
Fandom: Wicked - bookverse
Pairing: Elphaba/Fiyero, implied Elphaba/Glinda
Rating: PG-13 for sex.
Summary: ‘“You are saying,” he asked finally, “that you do not love me?”’ Angstier than what I’ve been writing lately.
Notes: Fifth in my table of wicked prompts.
Fiyero awoke slowly, coming back to himself piece by piece in the darkened room. The sounds of night were around him, so distant, so strange, so different to daytime noises as to seem almost unreal; the scrabbling of an animal, or perhaps bold Animal searching for food, the drunken verses of a man on his way home from the pub, the soft twitching of Malky who lay sprawled on a cupboard in the corner of the room.
Elphaba slept beside him and Fiyero sat up, looking at her, admiring her form, the way her skin seemed almost to glow in the soft, reflected emerald light of the City around them. Dark strands of hair fell across her eyes and Fiyero reached out to brush them away, stopping himself at the last second for fear of waking her.
But it was too late; Elphaba had stirred, and she sat up, looking at him, leaving Fiyero to marvel at the way the sleep vanished almost instantly from her eyes. Was it practice, or merely a talent? He didn’t know.
“Hello,” he said, leaning forward to kiss her, one hand resting on her side, close to her breast, but she, still as naked as he from their earlier encounter, pulled away from his touch.
“Do you think of nothing else?” she asked him, but she did not expect an answer; she slipped out of bed, winding the sheet around herself quickly to cover her nakedness. “You should go.”
“Fae.” Fiyero stood, hurt and yet unsurprised. “You know I will not leave you, not at this hour.”
“I know that you care nothing for your own safety,” she retorted, but there was no genuine venom in her words. “Very well then: stay. There’s nothing more I can do to make you leave.”
And so you have absolved yourself from guilt, Fiyero reflected, but he did not voice the thought for he knew it, even as he thought it, to be untrue. He caught the pants Elphaba threw to him but he did not put them on; he stood, naked, watching as she cleaned her hands on a dry piece of tissue. She was so often like this after they had been together, yet he could not stop himself from being disappointed each time, as if, subconsciously, he had been hoping for more.
She turned back to him at last, placing the tissue down into a little bucket.
“Did you never learn that it was rude to stare,” she asked him, and Fiyero felt his lips twitch.
You look so beautiful in the moonlight, he wanted to say, but this was Elphaba, and he couldn’t. Instead, he made his way over to her, and this time she let him place his hand on her waist. He kissed her softly, boldly pulling the sheet down until the top half of her body was completely exposed, skin glinting with reflection.
“I learned that it was rude never to follow up,” he whispered into her ear.
He thought he saw a hint of a smile on her lips, and he kissed her again, deeply, leading her backwards to lean against the wall. His hands caressed her breasts and she moaned; he shivered in response, his arousal beginning to make itself known to both of them. Slim, green fingers slid down his chest, and he slipped his hands down accordingly, his grip tightening on her waist as her lips moved against his neck.
Daringly, he dipped his hands lower, slipping between her thighs and reaching up, but she stiffened against him, and pulled his hands away from their destination.
“No,” she said, her tone soft and undeniable. “You mustn’t.”
“Elphie,” he said, coaxing. “I love you.”
But he had said the wrong thing; she pulled back from him completely, turning away and staring into the darkness.
“I have known love before,” she said after a minute, her voice unwavering. “And it has not done me well.”
He blinked, taken aback, arousal leaving his body as quickly as it had flooded through it.
“And who was it that you have loved?” he asked, hoping she did not mean the sort of love that he intended. She did not answer, stepping instead towards the window and staring out, pulling the sheet back up to cover herself.
“Elphaba,” he said, daring to approach her. “I know that you are no virgin. But sex does not mean love -,”
She whirled around, catching him by surprise.
“I know that,” she all but hissed at him. “Don’t you think I know that?” She was silent for a moment, and then said, without looking at him, “Just what do you think we are doing here?”
The question gave him pause, and he backed away, sitting heavily on the bed. “You are saying,” he asked finally, “that you do not love me?”
He almost hoped she wouldn’t answer, but she looked at him after a moment, her fingers clenching.
“I do love you, Fiyero,” she said, and the wave of relief that overcame him was almost dizzying. “But I love someone else, as well,” she continued. “And Fiyero -,” she paused, and turned away again, and he felt bold enough to come close to her again. “ - I didn’t know - I didn’t think - that I was capable of love.”
Her voice was abnormally small, almost frightened, and Fiyero gently drew her toward him, wrapping his arms around her and leaning his forehead on her head.
“Was it someone in your group?” he asked her, and she pulled back a little without answering. “Someone at Shiz?” he persisted. “Someone - Sweet Oz, Elphie - it wasn’t Boq, was it?”
This drew a slight smirk from her.
“It was not Boq,” she confirmed. “Nor was it anyone in my regiment.”
“Then -,” he stopped, eyes widening because oh.
“Did she know?” he asked softly, and Elphaba glanced at him, and then turned, striding over to Malky and scratching him behind the ears.
“Yes, she knew,” she answered.
“And she -,” he didn’t know how to ask, how to make it clear that he did not want to pry.
“I left her,” Elphaba said over Malky’s purring, and then was silent. Malky leapt off the cupboard and wound himself around Fiyero’s legs, and then, as Fiyero reached down to pat him, streaked out of the open window, thudding his way across the roof of the building until he was gone.
Fiyero stood, awkwardly, unsure of what to say.
“Come on,” Elphaba said, turning back to him. “There’s not much more of the night left.” She took his hand and led him back to bed, leaning over him to kiss him.
“Fae - Elphie,” he said, pulling back. “Are you sure you want to…”
“Yes,” she answered, her tone leaving no room for argument, and Fiyero felt himself got lost in her scent, in her Elphieness as she kissed him, her hands working down his body.
He let himself give in, let himself give up, and he almost did not notice that it was not his name she said as she came.