Inconveniently Yours

Crope and Tibbett had been relentless all week.

"You owe us," Crope declared, flopping dramatically onto Glinda’s bed the second he stepped into the dorm. "We suffered through your tragic tales of academia. Now it’s time for fun."

"The kind of fun that requires alcohol and bad decisions," Tibbett added.

"Ugh," Elphaba groaned from the couch, not even looking up from her book. "That sounds awful."

"That sounds necessary," Glinda corrected, smirking as she fluffed her hair in the mirror. "I suppose I could allow myself a night of indulgence."

"That’s the spirit!" Crope clapped his hands together before turning toward Elphaba. "And you?"

Elphaba gave him a flat look. "Absolutely not."

"Oh, come on, Elphie Darling," Tibbett wheedled, "don’t you want to witness Glinda in her natural habitat?"

Glinda gasped dramatically. "Excuse me!"

"Oh, please," Tibbett grinned. "You thrive at parties. You love the attention."

Glinda rolled her eyes, but didn’t argue.

"Fine," Elphaba muttered, standing up. "But if this is awful, I’m never listening to any of you ever again."

-

The party was already packed by the time they arrived.

Music thumped through the walls, the air thick with the scent of cheap beer and too many different perfumes. People milled around in various stages of intoxication, laughing, flirting, moving to the beat of the music.

It was exactly the kind of scene Glinda thrived in.

And she was determined to make the most of it.

"Alright, first things first," she declared, grabbing Elphaba’s wrist. "You need a drink."

Elphaba barely had time to protest before Glinda was shoving a cup into her hand.

"You’re awfully interested in my alcohol consumption," Elphaba muttered, eyeing the drink warily.

Glinda leaned in, her lips curving into a mischievous smile. "I just think you’d be so much fun if you loosened up."

Elphaba narrowed her eyes. "I am plenty fun."

"Mmhmm," Glinda hummed, sipping her own drink. "Prove it."

Elphaba huffed but took a long sip.

Glinda beamed, pleased with herself.

For the next hour, she pushed every button she could.

Dancing just a little too close, brushing against Elphaba whenever she could, teasing, laughing, playing the game just like before.

And then—

Someone else entered the picture.

She didn’t even know the girl’s name. Some tall, confident brunette who clearly had no problem making the first move.

Glinda watched—stunned, a little drunk, and absolutely unprepared—as this random girl slid up beside Elphaba, all smiles and easy conversation.

Elphaba, to Glinda’s horror, smirked.

"What brings you here?" the girl asked, leaning in just slightly.

"Peer pressure," Elphaba said dryly, but her shoulders relaxed, her body language open.

Glinda’s stomach flipped.

She had spent weeks pushing Elphaba, poking, prodding, seeing just how far she could take it. And now? Now some random girl was getting the attention she’d been working for?

Oh.

Oh.

She didn’t like that.

At all.

Her grip tightened around her drink, her usual playfulness vanishing.

She wasn’t sure what she wanted, but she knew she didn’t want to watch this.

And yet, she couldn’t look away.

Elphaba laughed at something the girl said—a real laugh, a relaxed laugh—and Glinda felt something ugly twist inside her chest.

Fiyero appeared beside her, silent for a long moment before finally murmuring, "Huh."

Glinda glared at him. "Shut up."

Fiyero smirked, taking a slow sip of his drink. "I didn’t say anything."

"You were thinking it."

"Mmhmm." He let the silence stretch, his amusement palpable. "So. You having fun yet?"

Glinda gritted her teeth.

She had been having fun.

Until now.

-

Glinda tried to shake it off.

She tried to pretend it didn’t bother her. That the sight of some random girl sliding into her space—her territory—was just another part of the game. That she wasn’t watching Elphaba’s relaxed posture, the way her usually rigid demeanor softened, or how she smirked at something the girl said.

It wasn’t working.

"You really don’t like this, do you?" Fiyero asked, entirely too amused.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about," Glinda huffed, sipping her drink with forced indifference.

Fiyero gave her a look. "Glinda."

"What? She’s having fun," Glinda said, voice just a touch too sharp. "Good for her."

"Uh-huh." Fiyero nodded, his smirk widening. "And you look so thrilled about it."

Glinda’s grip tightened around her cup again. She was not jealous.

-

Before Fiyero could say something smug, she turned on her heel, pushing through the crowd toward the makeshift bar in the kitchen. The music pulsed around her, the party lively, but all she could focus on was the sharp clench in her chest, her usual playfulness vanishing.

She poured herself a strong drink and downed half of it in one go.

"Careful," came a voice behind her. "Drowning your feelings might be effective short-term, but it’s a little cliché, don’t you think?"

She sighed, pressing a hand to her forehead. "If you’re here to be insufferable, now is not the time."

"Oh, sweetheart," Crope purred, stepping beside her. "It’s precisely the time.” 

Glinda groaned, leaning against the counter. "Tell me. Be honest. Am I being stupid?"

Crope arched a perfectly manicured brow. "Do you really want me to answer that?"

Glinda exhaled sharply. "Ugh."

Crope chuckled, clinking his glass against hers. "Let me put it this way—you might be feeling a little possessive, which is wildly entertaining for me, but also deeply predictable."

Glinda gritted her teeth and shot him a look. "Thanks. That helps."

"Anytime, sweetheart. Now," Crope nudged her, his expression turning just a bit mischievous, "how exactly do you plan to handle this?"

Glinda stared into her drink. She had no idea.

The thought of walking back into that room, of watching Elphaba with someone else, made her stomach twist.

But storming out would be too obvious. Too much like admitting defeat. And Glinda Upland did not lose.

She straightened, rolling her shoulders back. "I’m going to handle it gracefully, of course."

Crope snorted. "Oh, this is going to be good."

-

Glinda strode back into the party, head high, confidence forced but convincing enough to fool anyone who wasn’t paying attention.

Unfortunately for her, Crope and Tibbett were always paying attention.

"Lights, camera, action!" Tibbett murmured to Crope as they followed her progress back into the main room.

Elphaba was still talking to the brunette, her posture just relaxed enough to make Glinda’s blood simmer. The girl—tall, sharp-featured, with a confidence that rivaled Glinda’s own—was leaning in closer than strictly necessary, tucking a piece of dark hair behind her ear as she said something that made Elphaba laugh.

Not a scoff. Not a dry, unimpressed huff.

An actual, genuine laugh.

Glinda bit her lip as to not yelp. Right. Fine. Two can play this game.

She plastered on her most radiant smile, sauntering toward the couch and dropping unapologetically into Fiyero’s lap.

Fiyero, to his credit, barely reacted—just raised an eyebrow and wrapped an arm lazily around her waist.

"Well, hello there," he drawled. "Having fun, are we?"

"Oh, loads," Glinda chirped, running her fingers through his hair for maximum effect.

Tibbett gasped, Crope clapped a hand over his mouth, and Elphaba—

Elphaba stilled.

She didn’t whip around, didn’t glare, didn’t storm over like Glinda had irrationally hoped she might.

But her shoulders tensed. Barely. Just enough.

Glinda smirked. Gotcha.

"You know," Fiyero said casually, his voice too knowing, "if you wanted to make someone jealous, you probably should’ve picked someone who isn’t actively rooting for you two to get together."

Glinda froze.

Crope choked on his drink. Tibbett actually squeaked.

Fiyero smirked, sipping his beer. "I’m just saying."

Glinda scrambled for a response, but it didn’t matter—because at that exact moment, Elphaba stood abruptly, mumbled something to the brunette, and walked straight out the door.

Glinda’s stomach dropped.

This wasn’t funny anymore.

She shot off Fiyero’s lap, ignoring his smug grin as she hurried after her.