Disclaimer: Wicked belongs to Gregory Maguire and L.F. Baum.
A/N: Booksical. This is the first Wicked fic I've ever written, and it is appropriately a Gelphie (my OTP!) That means no femslash bashing, please.
Things to consider: Elphaba doesn't have the water allergy, this would contain book!Fiyero (i.e. he's really not important at Shiz) but I conspicuously left him out, and I used OCs for Glinda's ex-boy toys. They're not really supposed to be likable, so rip away.
Hopefully, this doesn't come off as sappy, but I'm afraid it might run that risk. Review if you liked it, and there will be more Gelphie to come. :) Enjoy.
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Galinda Upland was never told that sex was supposed to be meaningful. She has seen the way it can make a boy jealous and a girl doe-eyed, but she has never understood the reason behind it. She has been told it feels good, so she logically assumes that this must be why her friends do it so much.
The Upper Upland friends she once had were all as rich and well-bred as Galinda, but none were quite as pretty. To remedy this lamentable fact, they found young men, made them boyfriends, had lots of sex and a pregnancy scare or two, and ended their relationships with clawed fingernails and biting words.
Their screaming bouts frightened Galinda, but the more terrifying horror that her friends pushed to the front of her mind was that she would be a seventeen-year-old virgin in a world full of adults.
"How clueless you'll be," cried Merin, the first of the girls to have had sex. The rumors of her were widespread and unflattering, and most of them were true.
"Sweet Oz, Galinda, how will you manage at a place like Shiz?" asked Caroleen. "All those cute boys! I'm sure you'll be the talk of the school, and you'll have nothing to show for it." She leaned forward conspiratorially, "Haven't you considered finding a nice boy to… you know… to show you how it's done?"
Galinda paled and asked, "Like an escort?"
"No, Cotton-brain! Like a friend, or someone that's had his eye on you for ages."
Merin snorted into her rose-patterned cup, "My brother, for example. Ach! He would simply die."
The other girls sprawled at the tea table consented to this plan, all except Galinda, and it was unanimously decided that she would lose her virginity to Merin's twenty-year-old brother, Henreid, by summer's end. Galinda nodded stupidly because, really, it would be a shame for her to be so emotionally stunted when her friends could help her learn. She nodded again, but was petrified for the end of holiday to arrive.
As was common in Gillikin, young women were given a debutante celebration at the family manor, and Merin's youngest sister was just coming of age. Galinda had been more nervous than little Bansin, who even had to prepare a speech and perform dance for the party.
Sitting through Bansin's speech, Galinda tried to recall the nice features of Henreid- who could honestly be considered a prospective husband- but all she could think about were the lessons that had been drilled into her skull.
"Not too fast and not too slow, just let him lead you the way he likes. And don't worry about how you look because he probably won't be looking at you anyway. And no crying! There's no reason to cry and make a mess of your mascara. The room will probably be dark, which reminds me: make sure he closes the blinds! All of Gillikin doesn't need to know you're up there. And don't stick around for long afterwards, either. We can only keep people off of the second floor for so long, Galinda. Just try not to be awkward. Oh, and for the love of Oz, don't be selfish! He's gracious enough to have sex with you, so try to make it worth his while!"
When Henreid finally asked her to dance, Galinda stuttered and tripped, but he caught her with a sweet warning of the treacherous ground. He was being a prince, simply a prince, and it should have been the most romantic moment of her life. She knew that he had watched her since she was fourteen and first started wearing makeup, but he was too refined to approach her until Merin suggested it. Galinda should have wanted to be with him, but she didn't.
Galinda thought that dying was a more appropriate term for her feelings.
She didn't want this, even though Henreid was nice and sort of handsome and filthy rich. Galinda wanted to go home and take a warm bath and enjoy being a little girl in the eyes of her peers.
But those things did not happen. Instead, Henreid lead her upstairs and took off her dress. He kissed her and she shuddered against the pillows. He did not stop, though he was gentle with her, and he whispered about her beauty. When it was over, she did not kiss him goodbye, and she made sure to never see him again.
Her blue high-heels ran her all the way to her home, not pausing to tell her friends what happened in Henreid's dark room. She crept under her own sheets and wept until the next morning when her mother came to see if she was sick. It wasn't until the following day that Merin and Caroleen and all her sorry, shallow friends came over that she spoke to anyone at all. Galinda lied through her white teeth, "He was so good that I just didn't know what to do with myself." All but Merin cooed about his attractive looks, and even the little sister seemed secretly pleased with her brother.
But Galinda was sad that her first time to make love had meant nothing and had left her feeling disgusted. The little blue-eyed girl cried for several more days because she was so sorry for what she'd done, and no one wanted to hear her apology.
"It's only a matter of time before I catch you in here with some transient man-whore from the boys' dorms," mutters Elphaba. Her long eyebrows knit together in distaste at her roommate, who is digging enthusiastically through her drawers for the right slip to wear.
"Wenford is not a whore, I'll have you know! He's a senior prefect and top of his Chemistry class, and he plays for the cricket team," Galinda waves a sock as she speaks. "Besides, he's the dreamiest boy I know, Miss Elphaba, and that has to count for something."
With a flash of green and black, Elphaba turns to her plain bedspread. She mumbles, "At least try not to let him get under your skirt until the second date."
Galinda, who has moved on to the earrings in her jewelry box, almost pokes a second hole into her ear. She flatly asks, "What?"
"Even I've heard about Wenford Jillus, Galinda." Her brown eyes lock onto the shorter girl, who still appears frozen as she puts in her earring. Elphaba turns back again, crunching up her books and papers, packing her bag to spend the evening in the library.
"It's not fair of you to judge him like that," retorts Galinda.
Elphaba shrugs, "He wants your body, not anything else. I'm just hoping you're not dense enough to think that sex and love are the same thing. I suppose that I'm hoping you're not that stupid, my dear roomie, though I have my doubts."
The color drains from Galinda's face, and all she can think about is the time she'd spent in Henreid's bed all those months ago. Her eyes are empty; aching in pain for a few moments before she reminds herself that she must prepare for her night out, or Pfannee and Shen Shen would drag her away forcefully.
"I'm not speaking to you, Miss Elphaba," says Galinda very softly. It does not sound like a joke, or an empty threat, and the silence in their shared room becomes palpable. The babbling blonde is ghostly quiet, subdued like a beaten dog. Elphaba does not leave, although she is ready, but watches as the pale figure half-heartedly chooses a purse. When she is done dressing for her date, Galinda steps out of the doorway and finds that a thin-fingered hand clutches her wrist.
Elphaba holds her arm tightly, not making eye contact.
"You're the only person I talk to," she says. Elphaba stares at her feet, rubbing them together in frustration, but does not release her grip on her roommate. Her hand is loose though, and she grasps Galinda just enough to let her know that she still has the option to leave.
Her remark sounds to Galinda like a confession and an apology rolled into one. The taller girl's words are enough to make her forget her righteous anger for a moment, and smile back at her frowning roommate.
"Well, Elphaba," she grins. "I guess I'll have to rescind my vow of silence so you don't wither away like the little antisocial flower that you are." She gives her a quick embrace before departing, loving the warmth of Elphaba's rigid body.
Galinda flutters down the hallway shouting, "Don't wait up!" and knowing full well that Elphaba will be awake until she returns home.
In the springtime, Glinda feels so full of love that it is overflowing, and she dreadfully needs a target to release it upon. In fact, the young Miss Upland is so desperate for a boyfriend that she has even considered courting Boq, just to have a plaything.
She has not had sex in over a year, which is long enough to recover, her friends say, and Glinda- for she is called Glinda now- thinks that Wenford Jillus might be the man to set her straight. Pfannee and Shenshen know enough about corporal relations, and have no problem advising their fearless leader in their ways.
Relentless recommended flirting sessions and several scattered dates over the last few months have made Glinda feel far more prepared for a physical relationship then she did at seventeen, and she is beginning to wait for the right moment for Wenford to metaphorically take her home. It's long past time to try again, she reasons.
Late on a Thursday night, when studious young people like Elphaba stay at home and prepare, Galinda and Wenford attend a raucous party at a friend's house near the campus. He is heavily drinking, making him less attractive in the evening light, and Galinda wonders if she's consumed enough alcohol to make herself ugly, too. Wenford's dark hair usually makes him handsome when he smiles with his big, blue eyes, but now he looks violent and wild and fearsome, and Galinda wants to go back to her dormitory.
He grabs her by the wrist and she immediately thinks of Elphaba, suddenly wishing her roommate had accepted her invitation to the party.
"Let's go somewhere quiet," he slurs, smelling of whiskey and stale smoke. The girl is dragged, having a great deal of trouble with her shoes in the thick carpet, and she finds herself on an unoccupied bed in the back of the house. Wenford is kissing her with more passion than Henreid did and she knows that she should enjoy it, but she feels rising fear of her past encounter.
Welford's hands are not soft. Not like Elphaba's, she disjointedly thinks.
He is groping, and not being as suave as she has been told he would be, when he rips off her dress. She struggles for a moment, but does nothing else to resist him; and then, before she knows why, he is hurting her like she has never been hurt, even with Henreid.
He grunts into her mouth, and grabs her shoulders so hard that they are certain to bruise, and Glinda is on the verge of tears, but she barely manages to control herself.
When he finishes, he passes out facedown, and leaves Galinda on her back, trying to pull on her clothes without vomiting or screaming for help. This is the part of sex that Galinda Upland had feared so many months before. This is her nightmare.
It meant nothing. In the morning, they could both wake up with no memory of the night before, and all would be well. This is the way it works, said Pfannee and Shen Shen.
Glinda would not be well.
She is agonizingly sober now, somehow defying the champagne she drank, and she knows that she will never expel the feeling of being violated by a handsome young man. But she let him. She even lead Wenford to believe that she wanted to have sex with him as much as he wanted to have sex with her. There was consent.
She was right, Glinda thinks with a knot in her stomach.
It is well past midnight when she stumbles back to her room, literally falling against Elphaba when she spots her. Glinda shakes into her body, but does not cry.
You cannot cry when it's your fault, she thinks.
Elphaba has asked her something, but Glinda only recognizes how sweet she smells- not at all like whiskey and smoke. Her hair is down, a sign that she was preparing for bed, and Glinda feels a pang of guilt for keeping her from sleep.
Elphaba tenderly repeats, "Did he hurt you?"
A blonde head presses against Elphaba's shoulder. It slowly shakes from side to side.
Green fingers lift her face. "I will kill him if you want me to, Glinda." Her voice is so soft, juxtaposing with her harsh words. "Tell me what you want." Elphaba's arms support the little frame, and Glinda realizes this is the longest they've ever stayed in contact with each other.
It feels so safe, so warm, so much better than anything that she's ever had. She clutches the back of Elphaba's gray nightgown, pulling her as close as humanly possible; she is afraid that her green friend can smell the sex that lingers on her skin. "Elphie," she whispers, "I'm so stupid."
Elphaba stands over her, protecting her from the outside world like a shield. "No, my sweet," she replies. "You've never been stupid." The words make Glinda tilt her head up.
She has forgotten the way Elphaba can say she's sorry without a true apology. Her smooth voice becomes bitter and trapped, and she sneers at herself like she's done something despicable. Glinda feels her tense, and it is too much for her to bear.
The tears come quickly; she trembles like she did earlier that night. Glinda needs contact- she needs love.
So she stands on her tiptoes and pushes her mouth to Elphaba's lips like there is nothing wrong with her actions. Her tears are falling on green skin, and her arms circle a long neck as she whimpers.
Elphaba kisses back with her eyes closed.
When they breathlessly stop, there is nothing to be said. Glinda sits on her roommate's bed, imploring her company for the night. Elphaba crawls in first, followed by the girl still wearing a red polka-dot dress, who cuddles against her and weeps until she falls asleep. Elphaba strokes her blonde hair long after she is still.
When eight o'clock rolls around, Elphaba has already decided that her first class is unimportant. She does not shift her weight, and ignores the prickling in her sleeping leg, because Glinda's soft lips are still touching her arm, and she is peaceful.
"You absolutely must!" Shen Shen squeaks. Her pink manicure clutches Glinda's purse strap and she says, "He's staring at you! Just watch him during class, Glinda. I swear on Lady Lunicinard's Lipstick, he's pining after you."
Pfannee nods enthusiastically, bouncing her shiny brown ponytail. She loops her arms between her friends, making a chain of popular young women. "And he's good in bed," she giggles, skipping along the paved part of the walkway.
The laughter and chatter continues, but Glinda does not take heed. She looks across the park at the tall blonde boy, Ekil, and sees nothing in him she likes. He is superficial and dim-witted, and he considers her another trophy to put on his wall.
Ekil is tan, and muscular. His father is a nobleman from the sunny hills of Frottica, and Ekil is the eldest son, next in line for a great fortune. The mop of wavy hair on his head always looks windswept, just tousled enough to be ravishing, and he has the bone structure of a god.
And he couldn't string together a sentence to save his hide, Glinda thinks to herself. As Elphie would say.
When she contributes nothing to the conversation for over a minute, Shen Shen and Pfannee wheel about, fixing her with dual glares.
"What is wrong with you? You won't stop smiling and you're acting like the artichoke in the library," Shen Shen sharply says. Pfannee's thin eyebrow form into an accusing V.
"Oh, ladies, I'm just thinking about someone," Glinda replies. She's learned to let her posse come to their own conclusions about the peculiar workings of her mind, and they've never once been right about her contemplations. Including today.
Pfannee asks laughingly, "Have you already planned your marriage yet? You're such a little girl sometimes! Maybe I should go warn Ekil."
Shen Shen's high-pitched laugh fills the ears of bystanders, and Glinda winces. She waves her friends away by saying, "I think I'll go back to the dorm to take a nap. I'm tired."
When she passes from sight, Pfannee turns to Shen Shen and whispers, "Not to be a hussy, but you should try to get with Ekil before Glinda does. Once they're engaged it simply wouldn't be proper." And Shen Shen nods.
It is three months since she let Wenford have his way with her.
It is three months and many lessons later, and Glinda has found a new kind of love, a meaningful kind, in the green body of her former enemy. There was never a confession of love, really, but the longing glances and suggestive pet names were all Glinda needed to know to realize that Elphaba returned her feelings.
They wasted no time after class, pulling quickly together, and smiling until their lips were otherwise engaged. Their books and shoes are scattered on the floor so that they have space on the fluffy pink bed.
This is not uncommon for them, but it is the first time in Glinda's memory that she has felt so anxious for more. The kisses are needy, more sexual, and they envelope the girls like a blanket. They are going deeper than they ever have before.
A blink of a thought passes Glinda's mind: Elphie believes she has no soul, and it takes a soul to love, and she won't have sex without love, so will she ever have sex?
This notion is instantly dispelled by the jade hand that slides up Glinda's stomach, stopping just below her breasts. The touch leaves tingling lines of sensation up her front in a way that an unpracticed hand should never be able to do. Glinda arches her back and Elphaba abruptly removes her hand, looking dejected and ashamed. "I'm sorry," she mumbles, and pushes herself away, taking Glinda's good feelings with her.
The small blonde grabs the witch's hands, pressing them between her two smaller ones, and breathes, "Please, Elphie, don't stop. I won't know what to do if you stop."
Smiling, Elphaba gets on top of her again, kissing and letting her fingers twist against her skin and hair; and it is all Glinda can do to not sigh loud enough for their neighbors to hear. Green lips form the words, "Are you sure?" and Glinda thinks, I should be asking you that question. Her affirmation is a moaned yes that could not be misconstrued as anything but pleasurable.
Clothing is falling to the floor, topping the books, shoes, and one pointy hat.
This time, Glinda does not feel awkward that her lover will dislike her body. She is too busy becoming familiar with the green expanse of flesh before her, and covering every inch of it with kisses. She can feels Elphaba's racing heart, her hooded eyes look down at Glinda with ardor.
And Elphaba looks at her when they gasp together beneath the sheets. Really looks.
For the love of all that is good, Glinda Upland wants to hold Elphaba until the sun never rises because of the way she looks at her. She is not a confused virgin in her eyes, not a drunk whore, not a conquerable piece of meat. She is Glinda the fair-skinned and small-framed, lovely and kind and smarter than people think. She is Glinda, who can sing, but doesn't because she feels her voice is not worth listening to. She is Glinda, who sometimes hides out in the library late at night so that her roommate doesn't walk home alone. She is Glinda Upland, who has wanted for so long to have Elphaba Thropp to herself.
Although they sweat and writhe and scream in their tiny room, they are a masterpiece together. Their matching pink tongues compliment the drawn shades and flushing faces, and there has never been a time more fitting for their approach.
They fill each other at the same time, reveling in the contact and driving force between them. Elphaba covers Glinda's mouth to keep her quiet, fingers pushing between her lips, but not doing a thing to muffle the sound. Black hair is tangled in Glinda's hand, pulling just enough to delightfully sting, and Elphaba has her own trouble keeping quiet.
At the end, the girls feel more exhaustion than they have ever experienced before. Elphaba's dark hair is a curtain over Glinda's glowing face, and the witch rests herself in the space between her arm and body. Remnants of kisses fall onto Glinda's neck, and she sighs at the touch. In response, she trails her fingertips along Elphaba's spine, knowing far too well how good it feels.
"I didn't think you'd want me," says Elphaba. There is a trace of hurt in her voice, and Glinda holds her gaze for a moment before coming closer.
They are nose to nose when she murmurs, "I'm air-headed, my love. Not stupid."
Brown eyes soften. "Thank the Unamed God," she grins, teeth pearly white against the green of her skin. Very gently, Elphaba's hands take hold of the sides of Glinda's face, kissing her deeper. They tangle together as they fall asleep, kissing and whispering and staring until they cannot keep their eyes open.
Miss Upland does not socialize over the rest of the weekend, not even to forage for dates with her entourage. She stays indoors, curled up in her hideout, feeling the warmth of someone who matters.
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