Inconveniently Yours

Elphaba hadn’t planned on seeing Fiyero so soon after last night. She had assumed he’d be off somewhere—Glinda’s hanging off his arm, nursing whatever bruised ego she hadn’t already flattened, or simply not here. But no. Because, of course not.

She barely had time to settle into a chair in their usual corner of the library, where Boq, Crope, and Tibbett had claimed one of the long wooden tables, when she noticed a familiar takeout bag sitting in front of her usual spot.

She eyed it warily. "What’s this?"

"Dinner," Boq said, like it was obvious. "You forget to eat when you’re brooding."

Elphaba frowned. "And you all just… decided to bring me food out of the kindness of your hearts?"

"We’re kind, but we’re not saints," Crope said with a grin. "Last time you skipped a meal, you nearly bit Boq’s head off."

"She does get scary when she’s hungry," Tibbett added, nodding solemnly. "We figured this was safer for everyone."

Elphaba sighed, but after a moment’s hesitation, she pulled the bag toward her and peeked inside. Her usual order.

They had actually paid attention.

She muttered something under her breath that might have been a thank you but chose to focus on opening the food instead. She still wasn’t used to people looking after her.

And then, of course, Fiyero strolled in, looking perfectly at ease, like he hadn’t been the reason for her near-breakdown.

"Oh, fantastic," Elphaba muttered under her breath, already regretting showing up.

"Elphaba!" Fiyero greeted dramatically, throwing an arm over the back of a chair. "What brings you to the land of the living? Finally done brooding?"

"I don’t brood," she shot back, sitting back into the armchair and immediately regretting it as Fiyero flopped down right across from her.

"Oh, you absolutely do," Tibbett added. "It’s your whole thing."

Fiyero stretched out his long legs, looking far too comfortable as he met her glare with a smirk. "Rough night?"

Elphaba didn’t hesitate. "Not as rough as yours, I assume."

Boq choked on his drink. Crope snorted. Tibbett looked delighted.

Fiyero? He just laughed, shaking his head. "Harsh."

Elphaba crossed her arms. "I thought you liked that."

Fiyero tilted his head, considering. "Fair point. But I prefer it when it’s not so obviously misplaced."

Her jaw tightened. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

He waved a hand, casual, too casual. "Just that whatever you’re mad about, I doubt it’s actually me."

Boq, Crope, and Tibbett all went silent. Not that any of them fully understood what had happened, but they knew enough to recognize a conversation they shouldn’t be in.

Elphaba’s nails dug into her sleeve. "Don’t flatter yourself."

"Wouldn’t dream of it." Fiyero grinned, then, as if he hadn’t just unraveled her entire sense of control in one sentence, turned his attention to Crope. "So, what’s the plan for the day?"

Just like that, the moment passed. Tension dissipated. Unspoken truce re-established.

Elphaba let out a slow breath, forcing herself to unclench her fists beneath the table. She didn’t like Fiyero. Not really. But she supposed there were worse people to share space with. He wasn’t cruel, at least not intentionally, and he never pushed beyond what she was willing to tolerate. Still, there was something about him that grated on her nerves, something smug and self-assured that made her itch for a reason to knock him down a peg.

But for now, she could tolerate him. She could sit here, eat her food, and pretend she wasn’t still wound too tight from last night.

And for now, that would have to be enough.

-

Elphaba never considered herself petty.

But sometimes, people needed to be taught a lesson.

It wasn’t that she cared. She didn’t. Not really. But something inside her had coiled too tight after last night, something that still hadn’t settled, and if she didn’t do something about it, she was going to burst.

So, she found herself in Glinda’s perfectly organized room, fingers skimming over her ridiculous array of overpriced beauty products.

She could be cruel. She could ruin things beyond repair. But no, that wasn’t the goal.

She wanted annoyance, not destruction. But she needed something. Something to balance the unbearable frustration burning beneath her skin, something to make Glinda feel even a fraction of the irritation she’d inflicted on Elphaba.

Because it wasn’t just about last night. It was about Glinda playing games with people—with her—and thinking she could get away with it. It was about how easy it was for Glinda to flit between moments, between people, between emotions, while Elphaba was still stuck, still seething, still feeling too much.

So, no. She wouldn’t be cruel. She wouldn’t be outright malicious. But she would be petty. Because if Glinda was going to toy with people, then Elphaba would make sure she had to work for it.

She swapped her favorite moisturizer with an unscented body lotion. She replaced her toner with water. She twisted the lids just enough that, when Glinda inevitably went to use them, they would spill everywhere.

Then, for the finishing touch, she moved everything slightly out of place. Nothing drastic, nothing obvious a few inches to the right, a centimeter to the left, just enough that Glinda would feel it.

By the time she was done, the coiled feeling in her chest had loosened just a little.

Not enough.

But for now, it would do.