What's an eight letter word for "Love"?

By Vinkunwildflowerqueen

DISCLAIMER: The characters of Wicked the musical are not my property. This fic was inspired by the song "Sunday Crossword" by J. Maya.

AN. Basically, I found the song "Sunday Crossword" on TikTok and decided I could do something with that. The finished product doesn't really have anything in common with the song aside from crossword puzzles being a part of both and this is not the oneshot I initially anticipated it being (there's 13 chapters- that are shorter than I usually write but it worked best for the story that way), but here we are. I hope you enjoy.

2 Across: "Stop and smell the _"; To enjoy life's immediate pleasures. (5)

The end of summer vacation was approaching, and Fiyero eyed the new school year that loomed on the horizon like a condemned man eyed the gallows. He had plans- many plans. Grand plans- for these final few days of freedom, before once again being chained to his books. None of which involved doing a crossword puzzle with his parents, regardless of the fact that this was an event that had been taking place every Sunday afternoon for all of his fourteen years of life.

"Here we are," Ibrahim mused, peering up from the issue of The Sunday Chronicle in his hand. "Twenty-seven across, five letters. First letter is D. 'Furnishing scheme.'"

"Dump," Fiyero muttered, the first word that came to mind. He stared up at the ceiling of the library distantly, his limbs limply hanging off the couch. There was a faint breeze drifting through the open window, making the curtains wave softly and quite frankly tantalising Fiyero with the sun-drenched gardens just beyond his reach. But instead of being out there, he was stuck here while his parents debated whether twenty-six across (four letters, 'Fable', beginning with P-L) was 'plan' or 'plot'.

His father ignored the fact that "dump" neither fit the clue, nor was a five-letter word. "I think they're talking in general, Yero; not your bedroom specifically," he replied dryly, and Fiyero rolled his eyes.

Kasmira chuckled. "Décor," she suggested.

"That works," Ibrahim agreed, filling in the squares. "How about three down: 'muscle twitch'?"

"Tic?"

"Hmm. Five letters, starting with S-P."

"Spasm."

"Oh, excellent Yero," Kasmira beamed at him.

Fiyero's only response was a long-suffering sigh, which made her laugh gently at him.

"Oh, sweetheart. It's an hour of your afternoon. And it's much more pleasant when you're not scowling the whole time."

"It's so boring," Fiyero complained. "If we have to spend time together, can't it be something fun?"

"If we 'have' to spend time together," Ibrahim repeated. "What a lovely sentiment."

"Dad."

Kasmira put aside her glass of iced tea, getting up from her armchair and moving to perch on the sofa Fiyero was sprawled upon, nudging his legs aside to make room. Fiyero moved his legs not quite begrudgingly, but was still less than enthusiastic to meet his mother's gaze.

"I know that you're fourteen now, and you're at that age where hanging out with your parents isn't your idea of fun," she said gently. "We also know that you don't find doing the crossword as enjoyable as Dad and I do. That has been very clear since you were, what would you say, dear? Seven?"

"Oh at least," Ibrahim agreed. "Although in your defence, reading and spelling weren't your strong points at that age."

Fiyero glared at his father. "Hey, I could read when I was seven!" he exclaimed indignantly. Although, yeah. Spelling had not been his strong point. It still wasn't, really.

Kasmira squeezed his ankle. "My point is, we get it, sweetheart. But I know that you know, how important this is to Dad and I. It may just be an hour doing the crossword to you, but it's the purpose behind it."

"I know, I know," Fiyero groaned. "'Stop and smell the roses'," he recited his father's favourite phrase boredly.

He would have been willing to bet his allowance for the next month that he could predict the next words from his father's mouth, and sure enough…

"You're going to be king one day, Fiyero," Ibrahim reminded him, as though Fiyero had ever forgotten that fact since he'd made that realisation at the age of four. Fiyero mentally awarded himself a victory point.

"You've seen how busy our days can get, and you need to make time for the important things."

"The crossword puzzle is the important thing?" Fiyero asked sceptically.

"Family time is the important thing," Ibrahim corrected him gently. "I know doing the crossword is a small thing, but it's the simple things that are the most meaningful. One day, when you're older, you'll understand that."

Fiyero hated being told that he would understand these things "when he was older."

His mother eyed him knowingly. "Plus, there's a lot of health benefits to doing puzzles," she said lightly. "The brain is a muscle-"

'- and you have to exercise it like any other,' Fiyero mentally recited along with her.

"Think of it as giving your brain a workout before you go back to school?" Kasmira proposed.

"We don't ask much from you, son," Ibrahim said.

Fiyero screwed up his face but said nothing, which his parents accurately accepted as his reluctant compliance- at least for today.

"Why don't you read the next clue, Yero?" Kasmira suggested. "When we're done, if you'd like, we could play a board game or something you would enjoy?"

"Scrabble, perhaps?" Ibrahim teased, reaching over to hand Fiyero the newspaper and pen.

Fiyero rolled his eyes again but half-heartedly accepted the paper.

"Whatever. 'A cocktail that mixes vodka, carbonated water and mango nectar-' oh, I know that one. A mango duke," he said, already filling in the boxes correctly.

"And how exactly do you know that so quickly?"

Fiyero heaved another sigh. "Dad. I'm fourteen. I'm not an idiot."

Kasmira chuckled, exchanging an amused look with her husband.

"Of course, my mistake," Ibrahim said dryly. "I didn't realise the curriculum for the eighth grade included cocktail recipes. What will you be learning about this semester?"

"If I remember correctly, sex education," Kasmira replied, and Fiyero cringed.

"Oh, Oz," he muttered as his cheeks warmed, covering his face with the newspaper.

His parents laughed. "Come on then, Yero," Ibrahim said. "Give us the next clue then."

Fiyero pulled the paper away from his face just enough to be able to quickly count how many clues were left to complete. About ten, he figured. Ten more clues and then he could make his escape for another week. After all, he had plans.

"Ten letters. 'Solid basis.' Ends in I-O-N," Fiyero read.

AN. I've had the question a bit recently if, now that I'm crossposting on Ao3, if I will be moving my past fics over there. The answer is yes- but once I finish my current WIP, because I want to re-read them to catch any forgotten typos, minor edits that are needed, and also so that I can tag anything that needs tagging appropriately (because I do not remember half of what I write, especially from the stories I wrote a decade ago).

You'll also note that each chapter's title is a crossword clue. These are real clues from a real crossword that I made for this fic (link is on my vinkunwildflowerqueen Twitter and Tumblr). The answer to each chapter's clue is also hidden in each chapter somewhere.