Fic Challenge #5, rated PG
Title: The Spark [fic]
Rating: PG
Subject: Musical, but with a little of the novel thrown in for good measure.
Pairings: Glinda/Elphaba (obviously), also Galinda/Fiyero
Words used: rain, hat, present, paint, dancing.
There once was a girl called Galinda Upland. She was fair and pink and flaxen-haired, and she had a Reputation.
It was not the sort of reputation that is terribly bad to have, but it was not the type of label that a sixteen year old girl wishes to be saddled with by the rest of her town’s youngfolk. For Galinda, everyone knew, was hard-to-get - a tease - frigid. She would permit a boy to walk her to school, and even to carry her books if he desired, but there would be no strolling arm in arm, and certainly no kissing beneath the blossoms at recess.
Galinda, for her part, was aware that she was hard-to-get, but to her, this was no game. She didn’t just want to settle for any boy who seemed keen: she wasn’t that type of girl. Though friendly and popular, she was also terribly shy when it came to matters of romance. She couldn’t bear the thought of a boy she didn’t love trying to touch her in places that she was still embarrassed to touch herself.
Her friends constantly told her she needed to grow up a little, and Galinda did try, but the first time she felt an eager set of fingers squeeze her breast - even through several layers of ribbon and lace - her only reaction was to push him away and run home.
Galinda was a tease; more often a prick-tease or a cock-tease, if no adults were within earshot. She tried not to care, but it hurt when even her closest friends began to join in the name-calling, laughing about how she would allow a boy to hold open the café door for her, but never accept his offer to buy her an ice-cream sundae.
Galinda couldn’t understand what she was doing wrong. It was not her intention to lead the boys on. Ever since kindergarten, they had been taught that it was a sign of good manners to always allow girls to go first, to open doors for them, and to offer them shelter with an umbrella if it began to rain. What had suddenly made the intent behind all this change? Certainly Galinda had not changed. Although perhaps, this was the problem.
Galinda, once the belle of every ball, was an unexpected wallflower at her senior dance, until several goblets of slightly spiked punch helped her to loosen up and accept an invitation onto the dance floor. She had purposefully hung back because dancing with boys these days bore little - if any - resemblance to the cheerful polkas and awkward waltzes they had been taught at twelve. Now, there was holding and touching and, even worse, an embarrassing stiffness against her thigh, or hip, depending on her partner’s height. When one young man trapped Galinda’s hand in his own and tried to press it to the front of his trousers, Galinda had given him a resounding slap and again run home without a backwards glance.
Galinda was frigid. This was worse than being a slut, and provided much more gossip, with much less esteem, than the scandal of the girl in the class below who had fallen pregnant at only fifteen. Galinda would probably join a mauntery, and dedicate her life to preaching the benefits of celibacy. She would damn the entire of Frottica to hell.
Frottica, to Galinda, already was hell, and she couldn’t wait to get out. Surely, things would be different at Shiz, where she was to attend college. Thankfully, she was the only girl from her region to have been accepted, and she would be able to start afresh, with no reputation to precede her. Boys would not ask her out purely on a dare, to see if they could score with the unattainable ice queen. And with her looks and personality, she would be popular with the girls in no time.
Of course, things did not all go according to Galinda’s plan. She found herself consistently turning down the boys who asked her out, just as she had back in Frottica. And one day, she heard one girl giggle to another “she’s such a little tease!” and although she did not know to whom they were referring, she was determined to never again let it be her. She would accept the next boy who asked her out (unless it was Boq: she would not stoop quite that low, at least not yet), and even if she would not let him go all the way, she would stick with him, let him be known as her beau, and put up with certain things, for the sake of her reputation.
It seemed that the universe approved of Galinda’s plan for the very next day, a new boy enrolled at Shiz, and he was just perfect for her. His name was Fiyero, and he had a reputation of his own; the sort that would easily obliterate the one she had once had. He was exactly what Galinda needed, and fortunately, when he met her and saw how attractive she was, he agreed. They swiftly became Shiz’s golden couple, and Galinda found that she didn’t completely abhor his advances. The kissing was okay, he didn’t mindlessly grope her breasts - he was actually quite gentle with them - and he understood that he was not allowed to touch her below her waist. At least not yet.
Galinda did wonder if maybe, in Fiyero, she had met The One, but she sadly had to doubt this because there was no zap, no zing, no spark. Galinda had read about the spark in a novel when she had been thirteen or fourteen, and had almost melted at how romantic it seemed. Imagine, to look into someone’s eyes and just know that you wanted to kiss them, and have them kiss you.
When Galinda looked into Fiyero’s eyes, she figured that she could tolerate a few kisses, but no more than six or seven, and only if he initiated them. There was utterly no spark, and Galinda found herself torn. Either he wasn’t The One, and she had to go through more such ordeals with other boys, or he was, and sadly, the spark did not exist outside the imagination of one particular author.
And then one day, the spark proved to Galinda that it really did exist, but in the most confusifying of ways. It was at the Ozdust Ballroom, the day she had presented her roommate Elphaba with that dreadful hat, at approximately a quarter to nine. She, Elphaba, and Fiyero had been chattering quite pleasantly together when for some reason or other, Galinda had looked at Elphaba, just as Elphaba had looked at her.
Their eyes met. Elphaba smiled a little. Galinda’s stomach flipped. And she hastily turned her attention back to Fiyero, and drained the rest of her punch in one fell swoop.
The moment had been brief, but startling. Galinda passed it off quickly though, because Fiyero’s arm had been around her waist, and most likely she had felt the spark because of that. This was clearly the most logical and sensible of explanations, if it had even been the spark, which Galinda began to doubt. One did not get a thrill of pleasure when looking at one’s roommate - especially not one’s green, female roommate. This was just not done.
Perhaps, Galinda reasoned later, what she had felt was a jolt of relief, because Elphaba had smiled at her. Clearly, all was now forgiven, if not entirely forgotten. And there had also been an element of surprise, because Elphaba had looked quite lovely, even in her drab clothes and while still wearing that terrible hat. Galinda had never before seen those ivy green lips curve up so joyously before, and that quick smile had made a world of difference. If only Elphaba had smiled earlier in the semester, Galinda probably would have liked her much sooner.
The next thought that entered her mind, worryingly, was what it would feel like to kiss those lips, instead of Fiyero’s.
Now Galinda had been brought up very well, and she knew that girls did not go around kissing other girls, but she suddenly couldn’t help thinking about it. Not kissing girls in general, but kissing Elphaba. Eventually, she came to the horrifying realization that that had been the elusive spark she had felt, and that Fiyero had certainly not caused it, and was not likely to cause it any time soon. His kisses began to bore her more than usual, and Galinda began to swat him away when he tried to keep going for longer than was prudent. She grew increasingly miserable as her frustration with herself mounted, but there was precious little she could do to rectify this.
She could not kiss Elphaba, or show that she wanted to kiss her. If her thoughts on such a matter were ever to get out, she would have to leave the school in disgrace, and she certainly would not be able to return home to Frottica where everyone knew everyone else’s business before the party in question had even finished with the transaction.
But Galinda, polite and demure and raised perfectly, was going absolutely crazy, and she felt like she was going to explode if she didn’t do something, so one day, finally, she did.
They were lucky enough to secure a compartment all to themselves on the last leg of the Emerald City rail service, and they kept the blinds pulled down so that they would not be disturbed by other travelers looking to change berths. They still had two and a half days left on their journey, which was an awful lot of time to be cooped up together with bad blood and nothing to stare at but the bad paint job on the walls, but Glinda knew that the longer she left it, the quicker her resolve would diminish, and it had already dissipated quite far enough during their first train ride.
The newly renamed Glinda, who was perhaps a little bolder than her old self, did not bother with mincing words or wasting time. She turned and cupped Elphaba’s face, heart pounding as she discovered how perfectly a palm and a cheek could fit together. Elphaba slowly looked up from her book. “Yes, Glinda?” she asked, as if this was how Glinda usually obtained her attention. Then she smiled again, that gentle smile that did strange things to Glinda’s insides. “You look as though you’re about to kiss me.”
“Oh?” Glinda whispered, not moving.
“Yes,” came the reply. It was a response as much as it was a green light.
Glinda imagined it was the rolling of the train that caused their mouths to move in the rhythm that they did, that caused their tongues to brush together so sensually, and for her to somehow wind up astride Elphaba’s lap, with Elphaba holding her firmly about her waist.
And it was the train that made her stomach flip with each kiss, not to mention made other parts of her flush and tingle, and feel panicked because this was so terribly, horribly wrong - but oh, it felt too wonderful to ever stop. Had Elphaba tried to feel beneath her skirt, she would not have hated it.
But Elphaba tried no such thing, and eventually they broke apart and she regarded Glinda gravely.
“I think...I’m too young for this,” she said, stammering a little. “For a relationship or something.”
“So am I.” Glinda looked down, knowing this was true. It was far too big for her to comprehend right now, but she suddenly remembered something one of her friends back home had told her, and she could now see the truth behind it. “But...people our age, they...well, they practice.”
“We can practice,” Elphaba agreed. “I wouldn’t mind that.”
And so they practiced, through the tea service, the dinner service, the supper service, and even the coffee service. And they continued to practice as the lights were dimmed, whereupon they undressed, pulled out the lower bunk, and lay down together, practicing all night until sleep finally forced their weary lips to part. And though exhausted, Glinda thanked the train for not being an express: they still had two more full days of travel ahead of them. And an entire lifetime after that.
Rating: PG
Subject: Musical, but with a little of the novel thrown in for good measure.
Pairings: Glinda/Elphaba (obviously), also Galinda/Fiyero
Words used: rain, hat, present, paint, dancing.
There once was a girl called Galinda Upland. She was fair and pink and flaxen-haired, and she had a Reputation.
It was not the sort of reputation that is terribly bad to have, but it was not the type of label that a sixteen year old girl wishes to be saddled with by the rest of her town’s youngfolk. For Galinda, everyone knew, was hard-to-get - a tease - frigid. She would permit a boy to walk her to school, and even to carry her books if he desired, but there would be no strolling arm in arm, and certainly no kissing beneath the blossoms at recess.
Galinda, for her part, was aware that she was hard-to-get, but to her, this was no game. She didn’t just want to settle for any boy who seemed keen: she wasn’t that type of girl. Though friendly and popular, she was also terribly shy when it came to matters of romance. She couldn’t bear the thought of a boy she didn’t love trying to touch her in places that she was still embarrassed to touch herself.
Her friends constantly told her she needed to grow up a little, and Galinda did try, but the first time she felt an eager set of fingers squeeze her breast - even through several layers of ribbon and lace - her only reaction was to push him away and run home.
Galinda was a tease; more often a prick-tease or a cock-tease, if no adults were within earshot. She tried not to care, but it hurt when even her closest friends began to join in the name-calling, laughing about how she would allow a boy to hold open the café door for her, but never accept his offer to buy her an ice-cream sundae.
Galinda couldn’t understand what she was doing wrong. It was not her intention to lead the boys on. Ever since kindergarten, they had been taught that it was a sign of good manners to always allow girls to go first, to open doors for them, and to offer them shelter with an umbrella if it began to rain. What had suddenly made the intent behind all this change? Certainly Galinda had not changed. Although perhaps, this was the problem.
Galinda, once the belle of every ball, was an unexpected wallflower at her senior dance, until several goblets of slightly spiked punch helped her to loosen up and accept an invitation onto the dance floor. She had purposefully hung back because dancing with boys these days bore little - if any - resemblance to the cheerful polkas and awkward waltzes they had been taught at twelve. Now, there was holding and touching and, even worse, an embarrassing stiffness against her thigh, or hip, depending on her partner’s height. When one young man trapped Galinda’s hand in his own and tried to press it to the front of his trousers, Galinda had given him a resounding slap and again run home without a backwards glance.
Galinda was frigid. This was worse than being a slut, and provided much more gossip, with much less esteem, than the scandal of the girl in the class below who had fallen pregnant at only fifteen. Galinda would probably join a mauntery, and dedicate her life to preaching the benefits of celibacy. She would damn the entire of Frottica to hell.
Frottica, to Galinda, already was hell, and she couldn’t wait to get out. Surely, things would be different at Shiz, where she was to attend college. Thankfully, she was the only girl from her region to have been accepted, and she would be able to start afresh, with no reputation to precede her. Boys would not ask her out purely on a dare, to see if they could score with the unattainable ice queen. And with her looks and personality, she would be popular with the girls in no time.
Of course, things did not all go according to Galinda’s plan. She found herself consistently turning down the boys who asked her out, just as she had back in Frottica. And one day, she heard one girl giggle to another “she’s such a little tease!” and although she did not know to whom they were referring, she was determined to never again let it be her. She would accept the next boy who asked her out (unless it was Boq: she would not stoop quite that low, at least not yet), and even if she would not let him go all the way, she would stick with him, let him be known as her beau, and put up with certain things, for the sake of her reputation.
It seemed that the universe approved of Galinda’s plan for the very next day, a new boy enrolled at Shiz, and he was just perfect for her. His name was Fiyero, and he had a reputation of his own; the sort that would easily obliterate the one she had once had. He was exactly what Galinda needed, and fortunately, when he met her and saw how attractive she was, he agreed. They swiftly became Shiz’s golden couple, and Galinda found that she didn’t completely abhor his advances. The kissing was okay, he didn’t mindlessly grope her breasts - he was actually quite gentle with them - and he understood that he was not allowed to touch her below her waist. At least not yet.
Galinda did wonder if maybe, in Fiyero, she had met The One, but she sadly had to doubt this because there was no zap, no zing, no spark. Galinda had read about the spark in a novel when she had been thirteen or fourteen, and had almost melted at how romantic it seemed. Imagine, to look into someone’s eyes and just know that you wanted to kiss them, and have them kiss you.
When Galinda looked into Fiyero’s eyes, she figured that she could tolerate a few kisses, but no more than six or seven, and only if he initiated them. There was utterly no spark, and Galinda found herself torn. Either he wasn’t The One, and she had to go through more such ordeals with other boys, or he was, and sadly, the spark did not exist outside the imagination of one particular author.
And then one day, the spark proved to Galinda that it really did exist, but in the most confusifying of ways. It was at the Ozdust Ballroom, the day she had presented her roommate Elphaba with that dreadful hat, at approximately a quarter to nine. She, Elphaba, and Fiyero had been chattering quite pleasantly together when for some reason or other, Galinda had looked at Elphaba, just as Elphaba had looked at her.
Their eyes met. Elphaba smiled a little. Galinda’s stomach flipped. And she hastily turned her attention back to Fiyero, and drained the rest of her punch in one fell swoop.
The moment had been brief, but startling. Galinda passed it off quickly though, because Fiyero’s arm had been around her waist, and most likely she had felt the spark because of that. This was clearly the most logical and sensible of explanations, if it had even been the spark, which Galinda began to doubt. One did not get a thrill of pleasure when looking at one’s roommate - especially not one’s green, female roommate. This was just not done.
Perhaps, Galinda reasoned later, what she had felt was a jolt of relief, because Elphaba had smiled at her. Clearly, all was now forgiven, if not entirely forgotten. And there had also been an element of surprise, because Elphaba had looked quite lovely, even in her drab clothes and while still wearing that terrible hat. Galinda had never before seen those ivy green lips curve up so joyously before, and that quick smile had made a world of difference. If only Elphaba had smiled earlier in the semester, Galinda probably would have liked her much sooner.
The next thought that entered her mind, worryingly, was what it would feel like to kiss those lips, instead of Fiyero’s.
Now Galinda had been brought up very well, and she knew that girls did not go around kissing other girls, but she suddenly couldn’t help thinking about it. Not kissing girls in general, but kissing Elphaba. Eventually, she came to the horrifying realization that that had been the elusive spark she had felt, and that Fiyero had certainly not caused it, and was not likely to cause it any time soon. His kisses began to bore her more than usual, and Galinda began to swat him away when he tried to keep going for longer than was prudent. She grew increasingly miserable as her frustration with herself mounted, but there was precious little she could do to rectify this.
She could not kiss Elphaba, or show that she wanted to kiss her. If her thoughts on such a matter were ever to get out, she would have to leave the school in disgrace, and she certainly would not be able to return home to Frottica where everyone knew everyone else’s business before the party in question had even finished with the transaction.
But Galinda, polite and demure and raised perfectly, was going absolutely crazy, and she felt like she was going to explode if she didn’t do something, so one day, finally, she did.
They were lucky enough to secure a compartment all to themselves on the last leg of the Emerald City rail service, and they kept the blinds pulled down so that they would not be disturbed by other travelers looking to change berths. They still had two and a half days left on their journey, which was an awful lot of time to be cooped up together with bad blood and nothing to stare at but the bad paint job on the walls, but Glinda knew that the longer she left it, the quicker her resolve would diminish, and it had already dissipated quite far enough during their first train ride.
The newly renamed Glinda, who was perhaps a little bolder than her old self, did not bother with mincing words or wasting time. She turned and cupped Elphaba’s face, heart pounding as she discovered how perfectly a palm and a cheek could fit together. Elphaba slowly looked up from her book. “Yes, Glinda?” she asked, as if this was how Glinda usually obtained her attention. Then she smiled again, that gentle smile that did strange things to Glinda’s insides. “You look as though you’re about to kiss me.”
“Oh?” Glinda whispered, not moving.
“Yes,” came the reply. It was a response as much as it was a green light.
Glinda imagined it was the rolling of the train that caused their mouths to move in the rhythm that they did, that caused their tongues to brush together so sensually, and for her to somehow wind up astride Elphaba’s lap, with Elphaba holding her firmly about her waist.
And it was the train that made her stomach flip with each kiss, not to mention made other parts of her flush and tingle, and feel panicked because this was so terribly, horribly wrong - but oh, it felt too wonderful to ever stop. Had Elphaba tried to feel beneath her skirt, she would not have hated it.
But Elphaba tried no such thing, and eventually they broke apart and she regarded Glinda gravely.
“I think...I’m too young for this,” she said, stammering a little. “For a relationship or something.”
“So am I.” Glinda looked down, knowing this was true. It was far too big for her to comprehend right now, but she suddenly remembered something one of her friends back home had told her, and she could now see the truth behind it. “But...people our age, they...well, they practice.”
“We can practice,” Elphaba agreed. “I wouldn’t mind that.”
And so they practiced, through the tea service, the dinner service, the supper service, and even the coffee service. And they continued to practice as the lights were dimmed, whereupon they undressed, pulled out the lower bunk, and lay down together, practicing all night until sleep finally forced their weary lips to part. And though exhausted, Glinda thanked the train for not being an express: they still had two more full days of travel ahead of them. And an entire lifetime after that.