A/N: It's been almost 6 years since I've been on this godforsaken site, and somehow...I'm back on my bullshit. Would teenage me have believed I'd be back on here in grad school? Nope. Would she be proud of me for remembering my password? Yup.

I thought it was important to state before this begins that it was not my intention here to capitalize on a very real issue in current global events right now; this is kind of a coping mechanism, more than anything. And I fully do not expect everyone to feel the same about it, because we're all getting through this in different ways, but for the people that do: here you go. Enjoy two lovable idiots stuck in quarantine, trying their best in the most surreal of situations. For the sake of the story, just roll with Fiyero being single...I was too lazy to deal with that other full set of complicated emotions.

Stay healthy everyone, my heart goes out to you all x.

Well, this was weird.

It might have been the only time the entire student body of Shiz University shared a unanimous thought; from the forlorn social butterflies, lamenting the loss of their friends, to the relieved procrastinators, grateful for a reprieve from their mountains of work, the feeling was universal. Good or bad, this whole thing was utterly, decidedly, weird.

She wasn't sure which of these epithets she could apply to herself, but she did know one thing—the phrase crossing her mind wasn't, for once, about the pandemic radiating all too quickly across Oz. It was about her being right here, standing at the door, poised to knock. Was this too weird?

Then again, what was even normal anymore?

She knocked.

Galinda had been one of the first to go, and Elphaba couldn't say that she was surprised; what surprised her more was the fact that they'd actually seemed to miss each other. She'd gotten a letter just two days later, clamoring for updates and gossip. And they seemed only to be getting more frequent, even more friendly, as Galinda's isolation took further hold. The poor postman.

Boq didn't take much longer to follow suit, and neither did Nessa—dorm life clearly wasn't the place for someone of her health to be in a time like this. Their father had personally driven up to ensure her safe transport, and he didn't seem to care whether or not his greener daughter stayed or followed; imagining being cooped up with him for the unforeseeable future made her choice an easy one. Fiyero was the only other student she cared about who had decided to stay, figuring the long trip all the way out to the Vinkus wasn't the wisest move given the circumstances; but he had his own apartment downtown, and—despite those dumb, budding emotions of hers—she barely knew him anyway.

And so here she had been, almost two weeks later, isolated in a near-empty dormitory. Not that it had bothered her at first—honestly, she thrived on it. But as weak as she felt to admit it, she got lonely much faster than she'd anticipated; she supposed she was always used to having someone around, even if it was just her sister. And so, finally tossing aside her books in an act of self-defiance, she'd come to find herself about to make what she deemed the stupidest decision of her life. She rationalized that this was one of those "don't think it through now, forgive yourself for it later" kind of moments, and she'd had a lifetime of those passes saved up. She was so lonely, after all. People are allowed to do stupid things when they're lonely.

But the silence after the knock made her nervous, and she began to wonder if maybe she'd been a little too stupid this time around. He had made it clear, several times, that this was okay...right? Or did she exaggerate it in her head? Stop by literally any time, he said. You don't even have to let me know ahead of time. Just come, please. I'll be so lonely, he said. So yes, this was perfectly fine.

Unless he was just being polite. Yes, of course he was just being polite. He wouldn't want to hang out with you. Who would want to hang out with you? This is stupid, and you're stupid, and you'd better just turn around and—

"Elphaba?"

She somehow missed seeing him opening the door in the whirlwind of her thoughts, but there he was. A little disheveled, clearly unshaven for at least a few days, and holding something out in his hand...was that money? But he was real, and somehow he didn't—at first glance, anyway—look unhappy to see her. There was a moment of pause, so she tried her best at an awkward smile, but he didn't see it; she'd already been attacked by an unruly hug, one of the squeeze-the-life-out-of-you sorts.

"Oh, sweet Lurline, I thought you might never put me out of this misery!"

As in all incalculable encounters, she reverted to wit. "So...no social distancing?"

"Shit…" He pulled back a second, biting his lip, but then quickly swooped back in. "Too late."

She laughed, letting the relief of the moment wash over her. Ever so cautiously, she wrapped her arms around his neck in a gentle return. "So it's okay that I'm here?"

"Okay? It's more than okay, what a relief…" He squeezed a little tighter. "Do you know how bored I've been? I thought I'd go insane."

"I hate to break it to you, but I'm not convinced you haven't already."

He finally—regrettably—stepped back, arching his brow with a smile. "What makes you think that?"

She pointed to his hand. "Were you planning on paying me for my company?"

He looked confused for a second before breaking into a laugh. "Oh, this? I thought you were the delivery guy."

"Ah, that makes sense. Sorry to disappoint."

"Contrary to what you might think, you're the only person I'm more excited to see right now."

Her heart jumped a little at the sentiment—not that she'd let that show. "More than pizza? Oz, I'm flattered."

"Vinkun food, actually. A guy gets nostalgic, ya know?" He ushered her inside with a wave and a guiding hand on her back. "Can you believe there's an Arjiki joint only a few blocks away? I just found it out a few weeks ago, I'm kicking myself for not knowing about it sooner. Lurline's miracles may be sparing, but damn. When she delivers...she delivers." He closed the door behind him with a manic grin, and she could barely keep herself from laughing at its absurdity. "And they deliver!"

"Case and point, Fiyero. You've gone mad." She turned away from his face to take in the view of his apartment, feeling the warmth of a change in scene. It really was a nice place, with its large, leafy plants and gentle candlelight glow. For being a walking disaster, she could always credit the guy for having impeccable tidiness and taste—surely the only obvious clue to his royal bloodline. She smiled genuinely, in spite of herself. "Really, though, thanks for letting me hang out here."

"Psh, no need for thanks. What are friends for if not to keep each other company during apocalyptic times? Want anything to drink?"

Friends. Maybe they were closer than she thought? How would she know, with such limited experience. Regardless, he seemed not to want to dwell on her gratitude, which she would respect—however much she was ready to continue to gush. "Water would be great, thanks."

"I've got stronger if you want...I have too many bottles of wine just sitting around that I don't want to drink alone."

Normally she'd refuse immediately, so she wasn't sure why she hesitated. But come to think of it, she was on a stupid streak today..what was one more bad decision? "Actually...that sounds nice. You sure you want to spare some?"

"Elphaba, I'm a privileged guy. Let me at least use that privilege for sharing."

She couldn't argue with that, and thanked him instead. She took off her shoes and put down her bag—stuffed with some small books for emergencies, as it always was—and cozied into an armchair in front of the fire. He spoke to her from the kitchenette on the other side of the room, pulling out glasses from the tall cupboards.

"So what's the bookworm been up to without school to keep her distracted?"

She looked down with a smile, curling her toes into the soft crevices of the chair. "I think you answered that question yourself."

Fiyero clanked the glasses on the counter with mock frustration. "Well, guess I walked right into that one, huh?" He shook his head as he uncorked the wine. "But I'm sure you do more than read...what is it? Sermons and moral philosophy? No one's just one thing."

"Hey, I read novels too!"

"'Too,' you say, which confirms to me that you read sermons and moral philosophy for fun."

Elphaba rolled her eyes with a laugh. Fiyero might be the only person she could enjoy being insulted by, since he was the only person she knew who didn't mean it as a real jab. "Okay, sometimes I do. They're interesting."

"Well, as long as you think so…" He smirked, walking back over with the now-full glasses. He spoke as he passed one over to her and took a seat at the adjacent couch—closer to her than she'd anticipated, the closest place in the room, barely two feet away. "But beyond all that? Surely there's something?" He was gently swirling the wine in his glass, and she found it mesmerizing. "I want to get to know you better!"

Nobody ever wanted to get to know her better, excepting Galinda. Why would he want to get to know her better? But she was being stupid today, and so she stupidly decided that this wasn't a joke. He didn't mean her ill-will. And she would stupidly tell him the truth. "I mean, it's embarrassing."

"Nothing's embarrassing!"

"I mean, I suppose I write sometimes. Stories, and poems, and...and music?"

His eyes widened, but gently; she breathed. "I didn't know you were musical!"

Her heart was pounding. "I mean, I'm not great. It's just a hobby."

"You're great at everything. You wouldn't do it if you weren't great, I know you well enough for that." He took a sip and leaned on the armrest; she mirrored his movements. "What instrument? Do you play what you write?"

"Sing, actually."

"Shit, you sing? And I've never heard?"

"I won't do it now if you ask."

"Don't worry, I won't ask." He shook his head, swirling the glass again. Her eyes were glued to his hands, how they pulsated with the movement. She might faint. "But you've got to promise me I'll hear it some day."

"Fine." She was weak; she was sure it was because of his hands. And the warm rush of wine wasn't helping either.

"We could duet or something. I've always wanted a girl to sing with."

An acapella boy, right. How could she forget The Shiz?

"Prepare yourself to be disappointed."

He brushed that right off. "Let's have an arts night when this shit is all over. For the Charmed Circle? We'll prep a song and you can share a poem and Glinda can dress us up all fancy and we'll just go all out?"

"That sounds...lovely, actually." And it did, as much as it scared her. "You know, for being so, um...self-proclaimed, shallow, you really do have some very thoughtful ideas."

"I can feel feelings, they're just not that deep." He sipped with a smile. She decided not to take the bait just yet, and hazarded a smile of her own.

"And you? What have you been up to during your descent into madness?"

"Well, I've been singing a bit too, although I wish I composed like you." He thought a second, idly shifting the pillows beneath him. "But mainly I draw. I draw when I'm bored. You know this, I'm sure, from that time you saw my notes while helping me out with my History paper."

She laughed gently. "Oh, yeah. I know you and your drawings." In a more serious tone, she added, "They're really good, though. Like, crazy good. I'm surprised you're not an art major."

He shrugged his shoulders, sipping his wine. She got it, and sighed an empathetic sigh.

"That's the one thing I'm grateful about my dad's indifference for. He doesn't care what I'm majoring in."

"Says the Bio, Poli-Sci, Sorcery triple major."

"Sorcery is just a minor. I'm just dabbling."

"Because 'just dabbling' will make you an advisor to the Wizard or something?"

This was just a game now, and she didn't feel bad holding back. "Yup." She took a swig. "Wait, but how do you know that?"

"You've met Galinda, right?"

"Ah. Checks out." She shook her head, re-grounding the conversation. "Really though, I'm sorry. I get how much art must mean to you."

"It is what it is. Maybe I'd care a little more about school, but whatever." He put his glass on the coffee table in front of them, pensive a moment before raising a cautious question. "Can I show you some of what I've been working on? I'd love to get another pair of eyes."

Now that itself was a compliment of the highest sort. She swallowed and nodded through the weight of it all. "I'd absolutely love to, sure."

"Sweet, I'll be right back!" With a sudden leap, he bounded to his room; and a moment later, there was a knock at the door. He called out from behind a curtain.

"Dinner, sweet Lurline. Could you get that, Elphaba? I left the money on the table."

"You got it." She got up a little regrettably from her comfy chair and opened the door. The person behind it, presumably an Arjiki man, looked a little confused to see her face.

"You the Prince's girl?"

"What?" She nearly dropped the coins in panic. "Me? Oh, Oz, no, I'm just...um."

"So where's the Prince?"

"Oh, he's here, he's just...uh..."

She nearly screamed when she felt a sudden arm around her shoulders. "Ah, Manek, don't give her any trouble."

This Manek in question grinned as he handed over the sack of food. "So she is your girl?"

"You just want gossip." Fiyero passed over a new pile of coins, this time larger than the one she still held in her sweaty palms. "Give the restaurant my regards. And wash your hands."

Manek bowed, grinning wider than before. "Stay healthy, my Prince."

"Cheers to that." And spinning around as if nothing happened, Fiyero sniffed his food with delight. "Mm, saffron…"

She was still a little in shock, and dropped the coins back onto the table by the door. He walked to the sink, unfazed, scrubbing away under the tap water and humming softly to himself. Should she bring it up? But he began before she did.

"Sorry if that was weird, Elphaba. Elphie...no. Ah. Forget I said that. Elpha...Fabala? Yeesh, I sound like your Nanny. El...Elpha...Fa...uh, Fa...lafel..."

"Are you having a stroke?"

He whipped around, splattering the floor a little with the water from his hands. "Why can't I think of a good nickname for you?"

"Are you...okay?" She was beginning to question if he had, despite her jokes, truly slipped into insanity.

"Elphaba is a beautiful name, don't get me wrong. But sometimes it just takes a while to say, you know? You ever just want to toss out a single syllable and call it a day?"

"You have the virus. I'm calling a doctor."

Fiyero started laughing, and it made her want to laugh, too. "You think I'm weird but you're so much weirder."

And somehow, she knew it wasn't an insult. She gave into the humor. "Coming from the guy who just called me Falafel."

"Oh, speaking of, I hope you like Arjiki food. Pretty classic Vinkun, no falafel though." He was grabbing a plate before she could protest.

"I've actually never had Arjiki food, though it smells amazing. But really, you don't have to share with me."

He dished some onto a plate and shrugged. "Too late."

"You're a really great host...thank you."

"You can't have Vinkun food without some Vinkun hospitality." He winked obnoxiously while bringing the plates to the table. "Now go wash your hands."

"Of course, my Prince." She went to the sink after a mock bow, trying once again not to think of the odd encounter that still went unexplained. Perhaps she'd bring it up while they were eating. Maybe after another glass of wine.

She returned to a nicely set table, with a couple of candles and the wine bottle placed neatly on the table. This guy clearly cared for his aesthetics, that was for sure. In an act of gallantry, he pulled out a chair.

"M'lady."

She snorted in response, but took the seat. "Where am I, the Ozmopolitan?"

"You're at the Tigelaar, darling, and it's the finest feast you'll find in town."

"This was delivery."

He lifted his hand to his chest in an attempt to appear shocked. "Excuse me, madam! We are an exclusive eatery. Such insults will not be tolerated! I must tell our manager."

She cracked a smile. "Yeah, let me talk to your manager, actually. I've got a bone to pick with them."

Fiyero, fully committed by now, spun around; when he'd made his full turn, his voice dropped, and his accent became distinctly and thickly upper-Gillikinese.

"You have insulted our establishment, madam."

She couldn't even try to keep a straight face now. "Gillikinese? But you're supposed to be Arjiki!"

"And now you insult the way I speak...Madam! This will not be tolerated!" Fiyero was clearly beginning to break character now too, for his bellicose frown kept curling into a smile.

"Oh, gosh, sir, I'm sorry...I just thought you had more respect for your patrons, is all?"

"Respect? You want my respect?" They were both falling into fits of laughter, and Fiyero couldn't get out another word; instead he doubled over, grabbing her shoulders for support. Whether she wanted to laugh or cry, having his chest like this in her face, with his shirt V'd low enough to see down to his abdomen beneath...she would not decide now. Because laughing was what brought him here, and so laughing is where they would stay. He was still laughing when he brought himself back up and plopped into his own chair, pouring himself a second glass of wine.

"I couldn't think of a good comeback to that…" He snorted through his sip, and she smiled through hers.

"You've lost my respect then, is all I'm going to say."

"Shoot, I could've used that."

She shrugged with a smile, ready to move onto food. She didn't realize how hungry she was until now. "What is this, anyway?"

"It's vegan actually, which I'm sure you'd like to know."

"Oh, yeah, I didn't even think to ask...thank you."

"Yeah, I've been eating less meat after that conversation we had about Animal rights. You really stuck something in my brain with that one."

"Glad to know it meant that much to you." It sounded like a joke, especially given her track record, but she truly meant it.

"Yeah, I never really thought about what I ate before then. But anyway, this is basically rice and veggies. But, like...fancy veggies. With these mild, aromatic spices—you'll see. It'll blow your mind."

Curious, she took a bite. He was right; it did blow her mind. An unexpected flavor, but one of warmth.

"Damn."

"Right?"

"This is wild."

"Right?" Fiyero stuffed a giant pile into his mouth. "No one knows how good it is."

"I wish Munchkinlander food was this good. It's all just bread and fish." She took another bite before continuing on. "I need to learn how to make this."

"Yeah, same…" Fiyero looked a little guilty through his next forkful. "I have no excuse. I'm just bad at following directions."

"I'll help you out."

He looked genuinely touched by the sentiment, and he touched her arm across the table. "I'd love that." He took a moment to reflect before he spoke again. "You're truly one of the kindest people I know, Elphaba. I just needed to say it. Like, given your life, your circumstances...how did you do it? I've always had everything, and I'm just a foppish asshole. And here you are, a brilliant, funny, beaming light."

"Fiyero…" She hardly knew how to respond. Run to the bathroom and cry? Take his hands up to her mouth and kiss them? It took all of her energy not to set off a nuclear burst of magic throughout his living room. "Fiyero, how can you call yourself an asshole? Foppish, maybe…" He chuckled. "But the fact that you even invited me into your place here, and now you're sharing dinner with me? That's kindness. I'm not kind. That's you."

His smile was soft, and his eyes were gentle; was he going to cry? But he laughed instead. "Agree to disagree."

"Deal."

"I'm glad you didn't go back to Nest Hardings for break."

She smiled, deciding to ignore the facets she felt within that thought. "Yeah. Me too."

He put his fork down to take a swig from his glass before his next statement. "Funny how we're sitting here in the candlelight, our glasses of wine, sharing emotions with each other over dinner...it could be a date if you wanted it to be."

She dropped her fork. "What?"

He clearly noted the panic in her eyes, for he tread so quickly back on his words that Elphaba was almost convinced she'd made them up for herself. "I'm just being silly, Fae." He took a larger gulp, nearly downing his glass, and then leapt to his feet. "Sweet Oz, Fae! That's it. That's the winner. That's your nickname."

She knew her voice was shaky, but she attempted wit as a classic gut response. "I really liked Falafel, though."

Truthfully, Fae was nice. It was new to her; it was soft and sweet; it was Fiyero's.

But why the hell was he doing this? And what was in that wine?

"I think that's a statement you'd better take back before you regret it, Falafel."

"Okay, yeah, I take it back." She forced herself to smile the smile she felt in her heart. "Fae is nice, I like it."

"Me too."

"Um…" She grasped around for something to say, desperate to find a safe topic in this increasingly precarious cliffside of a conversation. "You never showed me your artwork. I still wanna see it."

"Oh, shit, yeah." He scratched his head. "You sure though?"

She furrowed her brows. "Of course I'm sure. Why wouldn't I?"

He smiled. "Okay, yeah. Cool. It's in my room."

She stood up at the invitation, following him in. For all the times she'd been here with friends, she'd never been into Fiyero's bedroom; it was warm, lit with candles like the rest of the house, but supplemented by a wide window shrouded by waves of ornately embroidered curtains, some Arjiki pattern of gold and green. And there was art, just about everywhere; old, collected paintings hanging in ancient frames, his own rough sketches taped like a collage, snaking and spiraling the walls like ivy. She gasped, and didn't care that he heard it. He deserved to know the power of this room's beauty.

"Fiyero, I…this is incredible."

"What, this?" He gestured to the wall with a passive wave. "Those are just doodles."

"These are more than doodles."

"Well, you're a sweet audience." He pulled out a large portfolio, at least a few feet wide, and rifled through the canvases. "I thought you'd like this one, I wanted to share it with the crew."

He pulled out a pencil drawing, and it was immediately clear who the subjects were. Galinda was the first person she noticed, laughing on the side; and then she saw herself, smiling gently with windswept hair. And their other friends were there too, Boq and Nessa giggling with the rest of them, and then there was Fiyero himself—leaning back in the middle of them all, watching, contentment in his smile. Somehow, and she wasn't sure how, it looked like an aura had shrouded them all in light.

"The Charmed Circle."

"Yeah."

"This is beautiful."

"Thanks." He smiled. "Just had to draw what I felt about us all."

"First Galinda's letters, and now this...I might cry."

"I cried a little drawing this, not gonna lie."

"Rightfully so." And while she could've stared for hours more, he quickly stashed the drawing back where it came from. Another was pulled out in its stead.

"This one's more abstract."

It was, but it was still easy to make out—it was a Tiger's face, from an onlooking angle. Splashes of color somehow made up the image, bright and pulsating; she could swear the subject was breathing. She looked fierce, but her eyes were soft, a little sad.

"I feel for her."

"I knew you would." Fiyero brushed his hand across the Tiger's face, as if in reassurance. "She has a story, but I don't know what it is yet. Only she does."

"I hope she'll share it one day."

Fiyero smiled. "Me too." He pulled the Tiger away, and kept rifling through the pile. "Trying to think of what else I'm ready to share..."

"What's this?" She pointed to the wall, suddenly captivated by a piece hanging just above his desk. At first glance, it was nothing more than color, but the lines betrayed themselves gently and slowly; a few soft curves from each side of the piece, finally meeting in the middle for a quiet explosion. She blinked. She couldn't make it out yet, but she knew this had to represent the core of life itself.

"That?" He suddenly looked flustered, running over to her side and wringing his hands; for a moment, she wasn't sure if he was going to tear it off the wall.

"Yeah, that one. I think this is my favorite one."

"It is?" That seemed to make his composure worse, and he leaned on the desk for some semblance of support.

"Yeah. I don't know why, but it just makes me...feel."

"Uh huh?

She turned to him, now unable to ignore the confusion. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Should I...not like this?"

"Oh, Lurline, no, that's not it." He shifted his eyes a moment before meeting hers again. "It's just interesting, is all. That you'd gravitate to it."

"Why?"

"It's...embarrassing."

"Nothing's embarrassing, Fiyero."

He took a breath, but that seemed to give him some courage. "Well, it's inspired by you, actually."

"Me?" She felt like someone had dunked her head in an ice bath while throwing her body into a fire. "But...this is all gold and purple." No green; it went without saying.

He shrugged. "Those are just the colors I see your soul dressed in."

"How do you know that I have a soul?" She meant it as a jab, but she lost her breath in its utterance, and the sincerity of her question startled them both. He just pointed at the painting.

"That's how."

She turned back, and the lines finally clicked; they were faces, the outlines of faces clouded by a boisterous symphony of souls. But there was another there with her—for while she somehow intuited herself as the purple and gold, she could not comprehend the silver and maroon there with her. In any case, she could not presume to comprehend; it would make her feel more than she wanted.

"Who is there with me?"

He said nothing, but met her eyes. The look was enough.

"Why?" It was all she could get out, a single, quiet breath.

"I think you know why."

She turned to the painting, and then back to him, and the world was suddenly spinning with purples and maroons.

"Lurline, Elphaba, are you okay?" He was holding her, catching her fall; could he see the colors too? The glimmer in his eye made her suspect that he did. Magic was always a curse to her, but maybe it could be just as it was supposed to right now—magical. She turned to the painting, and then back to him, and let the curves of her face meet his in their quiet explosion.

His lips were just as she'd imagined, soft and forceful; and his hands—fuck, his hands—gripped her tight at her neck and the small of her back. She threw her arms around him, knowing it may be stupid, but wasn't she knee deep into stupid decisions now? And this was the best, stupidest decision of them all. He drew back all too quickly, and her heart skipped a beat.

"You're sure you want this?"

"You mean you, Fiyero?" She gripped him tighter as she felt that magic pulse through her veins, puff through the room in a haze of silver and gold. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure."

He smiled. "So it is a date?"

The room began spinning, or maybe it was the color; either way, she was never so dizzy. "I guess it is, isn't it?"

And he kissed her again with all the fervor of his art. Whether by his arms or magic—she could not tell, nor did she care—they were now on his bed, shrouded in the kaleidoscope of color. She felt him now, every inch of him, and she needed it all; she kissed his chest and he stroked gentle fingers through her hair, and he kissed her neck, and she smiled.

"Fae..." He was looking down on her from above now, stroking her cheek, and she was melting.

"Fiyero?"

"You're just...stunning."

This made her nervous, and she turned away. "You don't have to lie to me."

His heart broke, although she could not see it. "It's not lying." He kissed her nose. "It's looking at things another way."

"How can I trust that?"

"I can't force you to trust me, darling." She didn't know if it was his words of endearment that flipped her stomach, or his hands absently stroking her collarbone, but it was surely at least one of the two. "But you know how much I adore color."

She couldn't think of an adequate thing to say, so she kissed his lips again, firmer now to show deeper gratitude.

"You know, Fiyero?"

"Darling Fae?"

"I really thought I was making the stupidest decision of my life coming over here."

"Is that so?" He rolled over to his side, eye to eye now, hand still stroking her face.

"I thought we didn't know each other well enough...I thought it might be awkward."

"It's a good thing you came, then, for us to keep getting to know each other better."

"I was afraid, because no one has cared for me before."

He squeezed her arm. "They'll see what I see, soon."

"I was also afraid because you're, well...you."

"Me?"

"You. Popular. Royal. Unbelievably handsome. The works."

"You think I'm handsome?"

"Fuck you."

He just grinned, and she slammed a pillow on him.

"No, but seriously. I don't get how this is happening right now."

"What's not to get?" He stroked her thumb, soft lines up and down. "You think I should be with someone who doesn't get me like you do?"

"How do you know that I get you?"

"You treat me like a person. Not even the delivery guy really does that."

"That's because you treat me like a person."

"Our bar is so low, then, hm?" She laughed, mesmerized in the way his hair fell in ripples in front of his face. "Or maybe it's ridiculously high, and we just got lucky?"

"I know I've lucked out, but I still don't get it." She sat up a little, propped on her elbows. "How do I know this isn't a prank?"

"Lurline, Elphaba, the world hasn't been kind to you, has it?" He sat up to match her, shifting his hand so that it rested on top of her own. "How's this for consolation: if this was a prank, there's no one around other than us two that would even be able to hear about this joke, and then the joke would really be on me, wouldn't it?"

"Touché, I suppose."

"C'mon." He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, stroking them with reassurance. "At the very least, we're two bored, lonely college students. Can't we fulfill that narrative? You say you like writing, Fae. You know how these stories go."

She shook her head. "I can't believe I always thought you were a jock when it's so clear to me now how much of an art hoe you are."

"Elphaba, dancing is my sport. This should've been obvious."

She laughed, and he kissed her forehead before speaking again. "So...you still think this was the stupidest decision you've ever made?"

This was weird, that was for sure. But did that make it stupid? No, she didn't think it did. Her actions were no more than a...calculated risk. And she had always prided herself on her abilities in math. "Somehow, no. I don't think so. In fact—" and she grabbed his hand here, kissing it softly, "this might have been the smartest thing I've ever done in my life."

And he kissed her, and kissed her again. Perhaps this quarantine thing wasn't so bad, after all.

Fin~