Title: Smooth Move, Romeo - Only One Effin' Bed
Summary: The whole gang gets drunk. What happens when Elphaba wakes up the next morning and . . . something's . . . different?
Disclaimer: I disclaim Wicked and What Happens in Vegas! La-di-da-daaa~!
Author's Note: Okay. This should be a good chapter for any of you true Fiyeraba fans, even though it's CLICHE AS CAN BE. But, oh well. . . . Enjoy it, regardless!
This is for Tiggy, who's reaction to this story was amazingly adorable. xD
-Faba
When Fiyero and Elphaba got back, Elphaba was lost. Completely. Miserable, almost. She went into her dorm room and found Galinda crying. The blonde's excess emotional outbursts really weren't what Elphaba wanted at the moment.
"What is it now, Galinda?" Elphaba sighed. "I'm already married to your boyfriend—what else?"
"I'm being forced to . . . move to another room!" Galinda sobbed. "No more time with my dearest friend—no, I'll be spending it with some loser!"
Elphaba was confused. "Galinda, no one's forcing you to move out of the room—"
"Well that's a lie," sniffed Galinda angrily. "I've been told firsthand by the Headmistress that I am no longer living here."
Elphaba blinked a few times. Was she missing something?
"Elphaba, why are you being so slow? It's obvious why." Galinda stalked over to the closet and yanked out a white leather suitcase. "Or maybe you're just denying the painfully obvious again."
"Oh no," Elphaba moaned.
"Yes," Galinda said. "Horrible Morrible has told me that I must move to another room, as you will now be rooming in the married couples' dormitory."
Elphaba kicked off her shoes angrily and sat quickly down on her bed. Galinda took Elphaba's silence correctly as an indication of anger.
"How do you think I feel?" said Galinda, now placing each of her shoes carefully inside the case. "I have to room with a complete stranger . . . again."
"You're not going to have enough room in there for all of your shoes," Elphaba retorted icily. "May want to reconsider how you'll travel from one building to the next."
"I have other bags," said Galinda sharply.
"I refuse to be moved," Elphaba growled abruptly. "I will not leave this dorm—married or not."
"Too bad," Galinda muttered sulkily, "Morrible's word is law, apparently. I've already tried begging and pleading—I'm moving in with Madolynne Ditly. She sounds bright, doesn't she?"
Elphaba ignored the hypocritical statement, and hastily pulled back her bed's covers and hid underneath the duvet.
"Ugh, Elphaba, you're hair will be all static-y when you pop out again," said her flaxen-haired roommate as she picked up her purple pumps, and set them on top of some ugly ankle boots her grannie had insisted she bring. "And, you know, I wouldn't mind rooming with Fiyero—why do you?"
Elphaba stuck her head out of the covers, and, true to what Galinda said, her hair was ruffled, and clinging to her face. "Would you like to switch names? I can be a convincing Galinda Upland (of the Upper Uplands, of course), and you, well, you can just stop talking and be me. We'll paint ourselves—green, and white."
"I'm not white!" Galinda yelled. "I'm a pleasantly milky-creamy color!" The frown she had been sporting shifted quickly into a rather unpleasant sneer that made her look as though she smelled something particularly foul.
Elphaba rolled her eyes. "Why isn't your new roomie coming to this room?" she wondered out loud, as soon as the thought had occurred to her.
"Oh, please," Galinda sighed, "This room harbors too many memories—I couldn't."
Had Galinda realized that she was contradicting what she had been griping about only minutes earlier? Ah, well it had been best not to tell her.
* * * * *
Elphaba entered her new room slowly, looking around. There was actually only one thing that caught her eye immediately:
There was only one bed.
One bed. One bed and no futon. One bed, no futon, no couch, and no carpet. Shit.
Fiyero was already there, sitting on the only other sit-able furniture; a small armchair. He looked very uncomfortable, much as Elphaba felt she looked like.
He cleared his throat and coughed roughly. "So."
"So," she said, and dropped her suitcase immediately. It clattered to the ground, and silence ensued rather quickly.
A moment later, there was a sharp knock on the door, and they both jumped. The pounding continued, so Elphaba opened it, and Boq came tumbling in.
"You two are sharing a room?" he gasped. "Why!"
Fiyero looked far too startled to talk, so Elphaba said, "It's simple—because I was forced."
Boq shook his head. "I mean, I thought you guys were going to clear up the whole accidental-marriage-when-stupidly-drunk incident!" he said. "Whatever happened to that?"
"I was refused," she said stiffly. "I . . . we weren't allowed. We . . . have to try to 'work it out' over the next three months. I don't know how Morrible found out—"
Boq cheeks went bright red, and, for a moment, Elphaba and Fiyero stared at him. Then, very slowly, he slid out of the door again and they heard him race down the hall.
"Dammit, the idiot," Elphaba snapped, glaring at Fiyero.
"I didn't do anything!" Fiyero exclaimed, clearly surprised by her sudden hostility.
"Y-you sleep on the floor tonight!" she stuttered, half-shouting, and pointed to the ground. "Or the armchair—"
"Elphaba—" Fiyero started, but she interrupted his interruption.
"But we're not sharing a bed," she said quickly. "I don't care if we're 'married' or not. I will not be subjected to—"
Fiyero put a finger to her lips. "I don't want to share a bed," he said slowly. "I'll sleep on the floor."
Elphaba shoved his hand away and looked over to the room's door. Still open, it looked so inviting. . . .
Fiyero broke the awkward silence, saying something Elphaba had desperately wanted to hear, "Elphaba, why don't you go the library?"
She nodded, and hastened herself out of his sight, but not before he could catch the faint darkening of her cheeks.