A fic I wrote for AJ's birthday
I am fairly certain this 'party' will never end. It has lasted an excruciatingly long time already and I only just arrived a few minutes ago. It would seem that Madam Morrible wanted to throw herself a bit of a soiree in honor of her birthday. My mother would never forgive me if I didn't attend a gathering with so many wealthy potential husbands. Madam Morrible is nothing if not socially connected and it behooves me to follow in her well trodden footsteps. That does not change the fact, however, that I am loathe to be here. The flirt and flounce that I apply to these interactions is second nature and doesn't require much conscious thought on my part, which is a good thing considering my lack of interest.
I flip my hair; I smile and laugh at appropriate intervals all to cover as I glance around the crowded room. My mind is not at all focused on the young Gillikinese man who is trying to find out if we know any of the same people back home. I am not rude enough to point out that I am from the Upper Uplands not the Uplands, a detail he has seemed to over look. As he prattles on I allow my gaze to travel about the room to see if I can strike upon someone who will be a titch less boring. Within moments I notice a flash of green and black through the crowd and realize that Miss Elphaba has been invited to this as well. I am not surprised as I am well aware that Madame Morrible sees a great deal of potential in my roommate, I am, however, surprised that Elphie accepted the invitation. These sorts of gatherings are hardly her cup of tea.
I find a polite means of excusing myself and make my way slowly through the crowd toward the one person here that might actually be able to hold an interesting conversation. On the way I am waylaid here and there by social niceties. It is funny; there was a time when an event like this would have thrilled me. I would have been working the room with fervor to find the most eligible bachelor. Not long ago I would not have considered conversing with a green skinned girl from Munchkinland in private much less in such a public venue. That was before, before the unfortunate miscommunication that stuck us together in Crage Hall. That was before I became unable to take my eyes off of her when she was studying Ozian History and I was studying her.
It is ridiculous I know, me pining over her. I am aware of my own stupidity but I can't seem to help myself she fascinates me in a way none of my many suitors ever has and she certainly engages my fantasies beyond any sense of propriety. The most shocking part is that I don't care. I don't care that the feelings I have for her are entirely improper and would send my mother to an early grave. I don't even care that I am fairly certain Miss Elphaba in no way returns my interest. I can't stop my heart from wanting what it wants. She has shown me the importance of listening to that inner voice that tells you what is right, her bravery is an example. And though I am too much of a coward to really be like her I can at least not lie to myself.
After agreeing with ShenShen that yes the boy she has her eye on is in fact quite the prize and refraining from telling her that I'm fairly certain he only has eyes for Avaric I make my way through the last of the crowd that separates me from the object of my affection. She has her back to me as she sips a glass of punch and casts her sharp gaze about the room. She hasn’t turned enough to see me yet and I have a moment of questioning myself. I reach out my hand to tap her on the shoulder and it hovers there in the air between us and I feel the entirely unfamiliar sensation of nervousness.
I take a deep breath and remind myself that I am Galinda Upland. With that I reach the last couple of inches and tap Elphaba on the shoulder. The light tap of my fingers causes her to visibly jump and turn abruptly to face me. Her eyes flash with surprise and anger at someone having invaded her personal space. I curse myself in my head for not thinking of the fact that Elphaba isn’t exactly the type used to personal contact. I watch her face concerned that she will storm off and my opportunity will be lost. I am both relieved and disappointed when she composes herself and the mask she wears falls back into place.
Even when I had feared that she would run I felt thrilled at the thought of seeing under her mask for a moment. I have dreamt of seeing the emotions she keeps hidden behind anger and defensiveness. I want to know what it is that lies in her heart. She cares so much about the world, she holds in so much passion and part of me longs to see her unleash it. It seeps slowly out of her in magical outbursts and I imagine it would be a thing to behold. The idea of it makes my heart pound in my chest and my body responds in a number of intimate and inappropriate ways. I can feel my cheeks flush pink at the thoughts that fill my mind as her dark eyes bore into me.
“Doubting your choice to be seen with me, Miss Galinda?” I can only assume she has drawn erroneous conclusions about the bright flush on my face. I want to tell her she is wrong but I find myself tongue tied, which is a foreign feeling. “I’m waiting for your saucy comeback.” Her brow arches and I can see the rising irritation in her expression.
I want to find words to express that I just wanted to talk to her. I just wanted to share a moment of friendly interaction but all I can feel is panic and agitation. My chest is tight and I’m feeling trapped by the crowd around us. I wonder, briefly, if this is how she feels right before magic throws the world around her into chaos. I want to drag her off out of the crowd and explain myself. With that knowledge clear in my confusion I say nothing and just grab her hand and drag her through the crowd. She makes a noise of annoyance as I pull her toward the nearest door. I’m not sure what will be on the other side but it will at least be quiet.
I pull her rather unceremoniously through the door and quickly turn to shut it behind us. I try and slow my breathing as Elphaba stares at me with a mixture of shock and anger on her face. I search my head for words to explain myself and find the quiet of what appears to be Madame Morrible’s powder room isn’t actually making it any easier for me to speak.
“Really didn’t want to be seen in public with me did you,” sarcasm is thick in her voice as she sets her cup down near the sink and crosses her arms in a defensive posture.
I begin to feel my own frustration rise at her ability to automatically jump to the wrong conclusion about me. I feel my own fear about my motivations for dragging her in her. I feel the fact that all those inappropriate thoughts that were in my head are still there in all their glory. I want this situation to be different. I see the anger in her eyes and I wonder what it would be like to see passion. I see her lips drawn tight in exasperation and I wonder what they would feel like softened under mine. It’s terrifying and all I can think about at the same time. I begin to pace back and forth in the small room.
She says nothing else she just continues to stare at me with that arch expression and I want to crack her. I want to see what is under that look. I want to throw caution to the wind. I want her and my mother and her quest for the perfect husband can go right to hell. Madame Morrible and her ridiculous social climbing and her birthday can go to hell. There is only one way to get out of this situation and that is to get through it. That is to make my decision.
I stop pacing and face her. My confusion is gone. I am determined, my mission is clear and I will not be swayed. We are standing only a few inches apart and I see the slightest change in her face. Her anger seems to have a bit of confusion around the edges and I reach up and take her hands again tugging until she uncrosses her arms. As she does I move a step closer and I see the confusion gain ground over the anger. I can tell that she is on the verge of asking what I am doing. I don’t want her to have the opportunity to ask because if she does all the rest of the world will come in and I will lose this moment of courage.
Before she can speak, or question, or run, I lean in on my tip toes and press my lips to hers. For the first moment she is stiff with shock and I have a moment of thinking this was perhaps the worst idea in a life of bad ideas. And then I feel her hands flex in mine and her lips become soft and responsive. She tastes of spice and the sweet punch she had been sipping and I forget about my panic, my concern. There is only her and me and this kiss that fills my entire consciousness. Slowly we explore each other tasting and learning until the desire to look outweighs the desire to touch and we part.
My cheeks are once again flushed as are hers and my dream of seeing beneath the veil she wears in public becomes reality. Her eyes sparkle and glow and I allow myself to openly stare at the beauty of her freshly kissed face. She is glorious and more gorgeous than I have ever seen her. I know that I am smiling like an idiot but it feels so lovely I can’t be too concerned about it. It would seem this wasn’t a bad decision after all. I know that we came here tonight to celebrate someone else’s birthday but I feel as though I’m the one leaving with the gift.