Title: Tales of an Emerald City Scandal 2/6
Fandom:
Wicked – bookverse
Rating: PG-13 for series
Pairing:
Multiple pairings but the focus is Milla/Elphaba
Summary:
While living in the Emerald City, Milla runs into a familiar face.
Notes:
For my table of wicked prompts
Notes 2: I kind of cheated with my table here. I used a different prompt for each chapter. This one was #19: offering.

"Begging your pardon, you wish to go where, Miss?"

"You heard me." Milla glared at her driver. "Carnavon Street."

It was a different driver on duty tonight, and he hesitated. "Carnavon Street – in the Low City?" he ventured.

"For goodness sake, yes," Milla snapped. "What other Carnavon Street is there?"

The driver blinked his confusion, and then his expression cleared to a professional respect. "Of course, Miss." He held open the carriage door for her. "Not a problem, Miss."

The carriage set off, and she sank backwards, her heart beating a little faster than normal. She was dressed plainly tonight, in a simple dark frock with no adornment, and low black shoes. Her hair was not done up in her usual style of elaborate curls, but flowed freely down her back. She wore minimal makeup. She would not fit in with the crowd of the pub – even dressed as she was, no one could make that mistake – but she hoped to be a little less conspicuous.

"Stop here," she said sharply, and the driver pulled up outside the pub she was looking for. He stepped around to help her out, and then stood, awaiting instructions.

"I've business to attend to," Milla said. "Go and find yourself a drink – up there." She pointed to the pubs further up the road. "I shall collect you when I'm ready."

He didn't wait to be told twice, eagerly setting off toward a drink and a game or two. Milla waited until he was out of sight, and then turned towards the pub.

She didn't hesitate this time, walking inside without a glance at the bouncer, and directly up to the bar. She scanned the room for the hooded, cloaked figure of Elphaba, hoping to find her sitting again at the bar.

She wasn't there.

Disappointment coursed through her, and she collapsed into a seat, suddenly weary. Of course Elphaba wasn't here. She had given no indication that she drank here regularly. She could be in any bar in any street in any part of the city. Milla had been a fool to come here.

"You again." The bartender was standing before her. "Didn't think we'd be seeing you." Milla looked at him, unable to bring herself to snap a reply. "What'll it be then? And mind," he warned, "you got it free last time. Don't think it'll be happening again."

Milla set her jaw. She had come for a drink after all. What matter if Elphaba wasn't here?

"Give me the strongest thing you have," she ordered. "And make it a double."

The bartender grinned.

"Right you are," he said, turning away. Milla didn't watch him as he sorted through various bottles. At last he returned, giving her a glass full of bright green liquid. Milla sniffed it suspiciously.

"What it is?" she asked him.

"It'll make all your problems go away." He winked. He turned away, and Milla raised the glass to her lips.

"I wouldn't drink that, if I were you."

Milla gasped, only barely managing not to spill the drink, and turned sharply.

Elphaba was not wearing the hooded robe tonight, but wore instead a simple black dress that left her green hands and face exposed. The dress was somewhat more fitted than the robe had been, and Milla saw a hint of the curves Elphaba might possess. The unexpected glimpse of Elphaba's femininity enthralled her as much as it surprised her.

Milla swallowed. "And why shouldn't I drink it?" she challenged, gripping the glass tightly but not sipping from it.

"Because," Elphaba said. "There's probably something in there that will leave you, come morning, in an alleyway with your valuables missing and a convenient lack of a memory of tonight."

Milla looked over at the barman, now busy serving another customer, and put the drink down. She didn't look at Elphaba.

"I must say, I'm rather surprised to see you here," Elphaba said dryly. "I didn't think you'd return."

Milla raised an eyebrow. "I said I would, did I not," she replied. "Besides," she leaned forward, her eyes steady on Elphaba's. "We have unfinished business."

Elphaba's lips curved in a small smile. "Indeed," she murmured. She straightened suddenly. "Well," she said briskly. "Is it to be coin or service?"

Milla blinked, confused. "I beg your pardon?"

"The pay," Elphaba clarified. "For my services as bodyguard." She nodded at the drink Milla had set aside. "That is the business you wished to settle, is it not?"

Milla stared, taken aback, until she caught sight of the smirk on Elphaba's lips that let her know she was being mocked. She stood immediately, pushing her chair back with force. "I suppose it was foolish to think one might find civil company in this part of town," she snapped, horrified to find herself genuinely upset. She turned quickly to leave. "I suppose I shall have to find a drink elsewhere."

"Miss Milla." A green hand clasped her bare forearm, and Milla halted abruptly. She stared down at it. "A lady such as yourself shouldn't allow herself to get so worked up." Elphaba's tone was amused, but this time not mocking. "Perhaps I can offer you a drink to calm your nerves?" Her hand hadn't left Milla's skin.

Milla turned to Elphaba reluctantly. "Alright. One drink." She glared at Elphaba. "But then I must be off."

Elphaba smiled, and then turned, stepping towards the pub's exit.

"Hey, where do you think you're going?" Milla protested. "What about the drink?"

Elphaba turned back, a grin on her face that made Milla's heart speed up. "I know a more private place that's far more suitable for a drink."

She led Milla through the men towards the door. Outside, the street was quiet, and Milla followed in silence as Elphaba led her down a side street, around a corner and down the hill, before stopping outside an old, rusty doorway.

"Watch out, my Lady," she warned. "It may not be quite what you're used to."

She led Milla up the stairs until they ended in a dark, dingy room. In the half-dark, Milla could make out a large bed, a sink, an old bookshelf and a battered chest of drawers. A black cat jumped down from the shelf and stalked past Milla, hissing.

"Hush, Malky," Elphaba said to it, and the cat hissed again, and thudded its way down the stairs. Elphaba lit a candle and turned to Milla, her face an odd mixture of green and yellow as the flame flickered. "Miss Milla. That drink?"

Milla nodded, and watched as Elphaba stooped over the drawers, retrieving a dusty bottle of cheap wine.

"I've only one glass, I'm afraid," Elphaba said. She poured it and sipped, then held it out to Milla.

"It's alright." Milla took the glass from Elphaba and held it behind her back. "I'd prefer to taste it second-hand anyway."

Before her startled mind could catch up to her body, she was pressing her lips firmly against Elphaba's. Elphaba kissed back, her hands coming up to frame Milla's face. Milla leant into her, groping blindly for somewhere to put the glass down.

"Not there," Elphaba almost gasped, breaking away from Milla's lips as Milla tried to put it on the shelf. "You might leave a mark. That is a very expensive bookshelf."

Milla narrowed her eyes and put the glass down firmly, crashing her lips back into Elphaba's. "Stop that," she said. "You're no Lady, and neither am I, here." Elphaba smirked, and Milla nipped her bottom lip as punishment. She was gratified to hear Elphaba moan.

Elphaba guided her back toward the bed, and they sank together onto the hard, uncomfortable mattress. Elphaba pulled open the top buttons of Milla's dress, her hands slipping in to cup what was underneath, and this time Milla recognized Elphaba's inexperience, her clumsy touches that nevertheless made Milla squirm with pleasure. She took one of Elphaba's hands and guided it down to where she needed it, her eyes slipping shut. Here, Elphaba's inexperience was clearer still, her touches somewhat hesitant, but she was nothing if not a quick learner, and it didn't take long until Milla was arching off the bed, crying out her pleasure.

"Feel better, my Lady?" Elphaba murmured, and Milla's eyes opened.

"I will," she whispered, rolling atop Elphaba and leaning down to bite her earlobe.

Elphaba was surprisingly easy to please, given her acerbic nature. When at last she cried out Milla's name, her whole body stiffening, Milla was pleased to hear she'd finally dropped the 'Miss'.

After it was over, Milla redressed in silence. "I'll be back," she said from the top of the stairs. Elphaba, still sitting in bed, her dress halfway across the room, offered no reply.

If her driver, when she found him at a nearby pub, noticed her torn dress and disheveled hair, he knew better than to mention it.

II

It turned into a clandestine affair, the kind which Milla had never before experienced. She had had dalliances with young men, certainly, but she had never returned to them with such alarming frequency, had never been drawn to them the way she seemed to be drawn to Elphaba.

They did not get on, certainly. They quarreled constantly. Elphaba's dry insults and taunts irritated Milla to no end, and Elphaba seemed not to be able to abide Milla's social standing. Milla found that she often left far more frustrated than she had been when she arrived, though for a very different reason. And still, she returned each time.

She visited often, at least once a week and sometimes more, skipping the pub entirely and hiring a city driver to take her directly to the room where Elphaba seemed to live. On some occasions, Elphaba was already there, poring over books and documents which she refused to show Milla, and she would require some time spent in snappy conversation before she would allow Milla to kiss her, leading her toward the bed. Other times, the room was empty when Milla arrived, but Milla was content to wait, sitting on Elphaba's bed with the black cat for company. Elphaba always returned before dawn broke. On these nights, when Elphaba appeared, smelling of determination and her eyes glittering with purpose, their encounters were always harder, rougher; filled with more fervor and more passion.

Milla never asked where Elphaba had been, nor did she ask why Elphaba was so reluctant to talk about her nighttime activities. Milla herself had shared no personal information. She had not told Elphaba that she had known her at Shiz, for fear that such a reminder of the past would cause Elphaba to hide away.

In turn, Milla's staff kept their mouths shut about their Mistress's strange disappearances. They had seen her behave so before, although, as they said to one another in hushed voices, as though the walls would overhear, they had never seen her quite so taken with anybody. Whoever this young man was, they concluded in significant whispers, he must be quite remarkable.