Title: Smooth Move, Romeo - The Stupid Minister

Summary: The whole gang gets drunk. What happens when Elphaba wakes up the next morning and . . . something's . . . different?

Disclaimer: What's up with these disclaimers! I'll sprout wings the day that I tell you, "I'm really the author in disguise, writing for my own blasted story, so don't critisize me for plagiarism." Yeah, fat chance. I disclaim Wicked and the certain movie I got my idea from: What Happens in Vegas.

Author's Note: Oh la la, very nice. I'm happy. I'm a writing maniac. I like my chappie. Written in Fiyero POV, first person.

Last night there was a funny noise outside. Nights are meant to be calming, but that rumbly sound in the distance wasn't helping me find my calm. And then, suddenly, I was feeling uncomfortable. All from a rumbly noise. Nutty, right? It's funny how the dark does that.

Happy reading! Keep reviewing, please! They're very pretty!

-Faba

Okay, now I knew Elphaba wasn't dealing with this very well, but wasn't this blowing it a little out of proportion? And, no, I didn't appreciate being dragged around, thank you very much, Miss Elphie.

"Fiyero, can you please keep up?" Elphaba snapped. So uptight, so stiff, soooooooooo different from last night.

"I would have better control of my feet if you'd . . . let go, Elphaba," I tried to explain, but I don't think that she heard. She sort of tugged harder, and I tripped over the toe of my boots.

Suddenly, when I least expected it, she finally decided to let go of my sleeve, and I fell. Face-first. Yes, it hurt.

"Get up!" she griped. "Where was it, Fiyero?"

"I've told you Elphaba—very close to the bar we were at before!" I bellowed back, getting carefully to my feet. My face rather hurt—stinging cheek. I put my hand there and—UGH. Road burn.

"Fiyero, in case you'd forgotten, there are many, many bars in the Emerald City. Which bar?" The girl talked to me as if I were a five-year-old—why did I marry her?

"Ummmm, it started with an A. I think. . . ." I screwed up my face in concentration, thinking hard. That sort of hurt, too. But then, it hit me. "Oh yeah! Er, it was called Artislia's Grill & Bar. Yep. That was it."

When we started walking in that direction again, Elphie finally managed to detach her hand from my cuff, and I was able to walk faster.

It was utterly nuts. Almost immediately, after she'd ranted and raged at the three of us, Elphaba had insisted that we go to the Emerald City right away to see if we could . . . reverse it, or something. I'd tried to tell her—people don't break up these days; severe taboo. The people of Oz only ever caved to the thought of divorcing if it was an extremely important reason. Like if Oz itself was at stake, ready to crumble to dust at our feet. Maybe.

But Elphaba was really stubborn. Not just plain old stubborn, but basically stone stubborn. A hard-core woman, she is. Even after I'd tried to explain how bad that would make me look in my parents' eyes, she still insisted on going. My parents were very forceful when it came to marriages—people stay together. The taboo even lived in the Vinkus. So if we were to even really try to split up, my mother would kill me . . . and I wasn't even joking.

I didn't see the point in going. I really didn't. But it was obvious that Elphaba really wanted this, because she had skipped classes for it. So I couldn't argue with her, could I?

After all, mom had always told me that men forever stood by their woman. Mum knew best. She'd always also told me that men knew nothing, but that was a different story.

"Look familiar?" Elphaba called to me, as I'd started to lag behind.

"Yeah," I called back, mainly to please her. Honestly I didn't remember even caring to enjoy the green city the night before, so I couldn't be sure. But I had to make her happy, I mean, I was following mom's rules.

I was a good person.

"There it is!" Elphaba said, finally spotting that faithful bar. She doubled back, grabbed my arm, and hauled me toward it, despite my protests.

Did anyone ever listen to me? No. I tried to tell her that I didn't want to go in (mostly because I specifically remembered dancing on the table), but Elphaba would not listen. Honestly, I was convinced the only person who even tried to take me seriously was Galinda, and she wasn't . . . the brightest crayon in the box, if you get my drift. . . .

Great. So basically I'd been labeled the idiot.

By the time whe'd poked around in the bar for a moment, and then circled the block, Elphaba was mad again. For what reason I couldn't tell. But it seemed the anger was directed at me, as it always was.

Hmm. "There it is!" I said soon enough. It was that old, decrepit Hell-hole. I recognized it now. They place where we didn't have to wait too long. . . .

Elphaba's face lit up. "Took you long enough," she said, but didn't sound mad. She grabbed me again and we were soon warily pushing our way into the door.

I really didn't understand much about what Elphie was blabbering about while she talked to the Minister. I kind of stood on the sidelines, staying quiet—there, but not there, you know?

"The Unnamed God does not look highly upon couples not willing to work things out," said the Minister calmly.

"We're not a couple," Elphaba said quickly.

"That's not how it looked last night," he responded.

Elphaba's eyes rolled, and I found myself rolling my eyes, too. I think we were on the same wavelength, Elphie and I: the Minister was a loser.

"But we didn't even want this!" she retorted loudly. "We were drunk—what kind of Minister lets two drunk teens get married in the dead of night?"

"A Minister who likes teaching young people a lesson," he answered, still creepy-calm.

"But he's annoying," she said, pointing to me as if it would make things better.

For some reason, at that moment I selfishly thought . . . for just a moment . . . that maybe it was I who should be complaining. After all, Elphie was now married to a hunky prince, and I was married to pea soup. I banished the thought quickly, though. I was still a good person. I wanted it to stay that way.

"Well, you should have thought about that before you married him."

"I was . . . incapacitated!" Elphaba flustered. "I couldn't tell up from down!"

"I know that—you should have thought before becoming a drunken fool," he said coolly.

"So we can't get divorced?" Elphaba wailed, tactically using a desperate tone. "Please, I don't want marriage right now. I have my whole life ahead of me! I'm only in college!"

"If you two can try to work it out over a three month period, and it still isn't working, then, yes, I will consider it. Try on the shoes before you return them, kids. Oh, and I suggest that you consult an expert—a couples counseling specialist."

Then he left the room, and we were stuck standing in the big room full of benches. I got tired just looking at it.

Then, Elphaba, very slowly, sat on the very front bench and pressed her two flat hands together, her head bowed. "Unnamed God help me," she whispered dramatically.

Oooh, pleeease. Was I really that bad?