Snarky
Elphaba had barely started to drift off when she felt the mattress dip beside her.
She blinked once, slowly, sleep-heavy, before turning her head slightly.
Glinda was slipping under the covers.
She didn’t say anything.
Just tucked herself in against Elphaba’s side, pressing her forehead against her shoulder.
Elphaba’s mind stirred, sharpened.
Something was wrong.
She could feel it in the way Glinda was curled too tightly, in the way her breathing was just a little too controlled.
She blinked fully awake.
“…Glinda?”
Glinda shifted, burying herself deeper into the warmth.
“I don’t want to talk about it yet,” she murmured, voice quiet, almost fragile.
Elphaba hesitated.
Then, slowly, she wrapped an arm around her.
Let her settle.
Glinda breathed out, finally relaxing.
And Elphaba—for once, for tonight—didn’t push.
She just held her close.
And waited.
Elphaba knew how to pretend she was fine.
She had years of experience.
So when she and Glinda finally pulled themselves out of bed, got dressed, and made their way downstairs for breakfast—
She acted normal.
Or—as normal as she could in the Upland home.
She kept her back straight, her expression neutral.
She let Glinda lead.
Ama Clutch was already waiting in the dining hall, setting plates, pouring coffee.
“Good morning, my loves,” she greeted, her voice warm as she pulled Glinda into a quick embrace before gesturing to the table.
Elphaba nodded politely.“Morning, Ama Clutch.”
She sat across from Glinda, folding her hands neatly, keeping her eyes trained on the breakfast spread as if she actually had an appetite.
She did not.
Ama Clutch’s gaze flickered between them—soft, knowing.
Then, carefully—“Did you two sleep well?”
Elphaba’s lips twitched slightly.
Glinda, ever composed, reached for her teacup, masking the faint tightness in her posture.“Well enough.”
Ama Clutch hummed.
Not pushing. Not yet.
The tension lingered, thick but quiet, settling in the air around them.
And then—Lady Upland entered.
And the tension tripled.
She didn’t acknowledge them at first—not directly.
She simply moved with precision, taking her seat, pouring herself a cup of tea, her every movement calculated and deliberate.
Elphaba…watched.
Watched Glinda straighten just slightly.
Watched Ama Clutch go still.
Watched the quiet battle playing out beneath the surface.
Lady Upland took a sip, then finally—her eyes flicked to Glinda.
A pause.
Then—“Do you ladies have plans today?”
Glinda didn’t falter.
She set her teacup down carefully.
“We do.”
Elphaba’s brow arched slightly, but she said nothing.
Lady Upland gave a single nod, setting her cup down. “Good.”
And that was it.
Nothing more.
No further prodding, no pointed remarks, no direct barbs.
Just a nod, a sip of tea, a calculation happening behind her eyes.
Glinda knew that look.
She knew it well.
So she leaned forward, her voice light but deliberate. “Something on your mind, Momsie?”
Lady Upland’s lips curled, but it wasn’t a smile. “You always were perceptive.”
“Only when it matters.”
Another sip of tea.
Then—“Your father and I were speaking last night.”
Glinda forced herself to keep her expression neutral.“Oh?”
“He’s pleased with your progress at university. But he… wonders about your social connections.”
Glinda tilted her head. “My social connections?”
“You’ve always been popular, darling.”
“Have I?”
Lady Upland’s gaze sharpened slightly, but she ignored the bait. “Pfannee and Shenshen have written to their mothers about your… distance lately.”
Elphaba didn’t move, but Glinda could feel her attention sharpen.
She didn’t look at her.
She didn’t need to.
Instead, she carefully buttered a piece of toast.“I still see them.”
“You used to be inseparable.”
“People grow,” Glinda said, light, airy, simple.“Priorities change.”
Lady Upland studied her.“Yes, I’ve noticed.”
There it was.
The shift.
The turn in the conversation.
Glinda took a slow sip of her tea.
Lady Upland set her cup down.
Then, carefully—“I assume there are no… romantic prospects at the moment?”
Elphaba went completely still.
Ama Clutch tensed.
Glinda, still composed, tilted her head. “Why do you assume that?”
Lady Upland held her gaze. “Because if there were, you’d have written to me about it. You always used to.”
Glinda smiled slightly. “I suppose I’ve become more private.”
Her mother hummed, considering. “That would be… unfortunate.”
Glinda kept her expression calm, unreadable.
Then, with quiet amusement, “Why, are you hoping to set me up with someone?”
Lady Upland didn’t react outwardly, but Glinda could see the shift in her eyes. The careful calculation of how much to push, how much to leave alone.
After a pause, she simply murmured, “You’ve always had options.”
Glinda held back a laugh.
Because—oh, she knew what this was.
It was a warning.
A gentle reminder that she was expected to make the right choice.
Elphaba exhaled through her nose, softly, like she was holding back a smirk.
Glinda knew she was enjoying this.
So Glinda, voice carefully neutral, lifted her teacup once more and said, “Perhaps I’m being more selective these days.”
Her mother’s gaze lingered for a long moment.
Then, without breaking eye contact, she took a sip of her tea.
“Yes,” she murmured. “Perhaps.”
The conversation moved on.
Ama Clutch relaxed.
Elphaba let out a slow, measured breath.
And Glinda knew, without a doubt, that her mother had just learned something very, very important.
Glinda needed out.
Breakfast had been exhausting, and the moment she was excused from the table, she wasted no time grabbing Elphaba’s hand and steering her toward the doors leading out to the gardens.
Elphaba raised a brow but didn’t resist.
“You’re quite determined this morning,” she murmured, letting Glinda lead her down the stone path that wove through the estate’s perfectly manicured hedges.
Glinda sighed dramatically. “I need air. Fresh, non-suffocating air.”
Elphaba hummed. “Your mother’s influence is stifling, I take it?”
Glinda shot her a look. “If I’d stayed at that table any longer, I think I might have suffocated.”
They walked in comfortable silence for a while, the chill of the winter air crisp against their cheeks.
Eventually, Glinda pulled them toward a bench nestled in a small clearing, away from the estate, where the hedges shielded them from view.
She sat first, tugging Elphaba down beside her, their shoulders brushing.
Elphaba let out a slow breath, tilting her head back slightly, letting her eyes drift closed for just a moment.
“This house is suffocating,” she murmured.
Glinda huffed a soft laugh. “Welcome to my childhood.”
Elphaba turned her head slightly, opening one eye. “And yet you turned out so well-adjusted.”
Glinda grinned, nudging her. “Oh, I’m a disaster.”
“That makes two of us.”
A pause.
Then—Glinda shifted slightly, curling into Elphaba’s side, resting her head against her shoulder.
Elphaba stilled.
Glinda let out a small, content hum.
And then, softly—“I love this.”
Elphaba blinked, glancing down at her. “Love what?”
“This. Us.”
Elphaba’s breath hitched.
And then—Glinda lifted her head, just slightly, just enough for their noses to brush.
Elphaba swallowed hard.
Glinda’s lips quirked up. “You do know you’re allowed to kiss me, right?”
Elphaba tilted her head, eyes narrowing just slightly.
“As in—right now?”
Glinda smiled, but her voice was gentle.
“As in always.”
Elphaba hesitated.
Because this was Glinda’s home.
Glinda’s world.
And Elphaba—Elphaba wasn’t supposed to exist in it.
Not like this.
Not openly, freely, without consequence.
And yet—
Glinda was looking at her like there was no question at all.
Like she had already made her choice.
Elphaba let out a slow breath.
Then, finally—she leaned in.
Slow, warm, gentle in a way that made Glinda melt.
Glinda sighed against her lips, hand coming up to rest against Elphaba’s cheek, thumb brushing lightly along her jaw.
Elphaba exhaled, sinking into it.
For a moment, there was nothing else.
No expectations, no pressure, no suffocating walls closing in.
Just them.
When they pulled away, Glinda smiled.
“You taste like my mother’s expensive coffee.”
Elphaba huffed a laugh. “And you taste like your mother’s expensive tea.”
Glinda grinned, pressing another quick kiss to the corner of her mouth.
Elphaba sighed, resting her forehead against hers.
“If we stay out here too long, they might think we’ve eloped.”
Glinda smirked. “Wouldn’t that be tragic?”
Elphaba let out a soft, breathless laugh. “Absolutely devastating.”
They lingered a little longer, content, warm despite the cold.
But eventually—they had to go back inside.
And that was when Glinda overheard the conversation.
They had barely stepped through the doors when Glinda froze.
Voices—low, sharp, coming from the hall just around the corner.
Lady Upland.
And—Ama Clutch.
Elphaba felt Glinda stiffen.
Before she could ask, Glinda lifted a hand.Wait.
Elphaba narrowed her eyes but obeyed.
And then—they listened.
“You should have told me.”
Her mother’s voice was calm. Controlled. Dangerous.
Ama Clutch’s voice—lower, firmer than usual.“Told you what, exactly?”
A pause.
Then—“That my daughter has taken a liking to that girl.”
Glinda felt her stomach drop.
Elphaba sucked in a slow breath.
Ama Clutch’s voice remained steady. “She is not a child, Lady Upland. She makes her own decisions.”
“A child, no. But easily influenced?” Lady Upland exhaled. “She’s always been impressionable. And this… phase—”
Glinda’s hands curled into fists.
Ama Clutch cut her off.
“Phase?”
Her voice was sharper now, edged with something dangerous.
Lady Upland hesitated.
Ama Clutch pressed on.
“This isn’t a phase. And you know it.”
Silence.
Long. Heavy.
Then—her mother spoke again, quieter now.
“If she chooses this, there will be consequences.”
Glinda felt Elphaba tense beside her.
Ama Clutch was unfazed. “There are consequences for everything.”
Another pause.
Then—“I don’t want to lose her.”
The words were so soft, so unexpected, that Glinda almost gasped aloud.
Lady Upland sighed. “She’s my only child.”
Ama Clutch’s voice gentled, just slightly.
“Then you need to decide if you’d rather have a daughter you don’t fully understand or lose her completely.”
Silence.
Longer this time.
Then—footsteps.
Coming closer.
Glinda grabbed Elphaba’s hand and pulled her toward the stairs.
Elphaba followed without question.
They didn’t stop until they were back in Glinda’s bedroom, the door closed firmly behind them.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then—Elphaba turned to her, searching her face.
“Glinda—”
“I’m fine.”
A beat.
Then—Elphaba reached for her hand.
Glinda let her.
And then—she exhaled.
“She’s never said that before.”
Elphaba frowned. “Said what?”
Glinda swallowed.
“That she doesn’t want to lose me.”
Elphaba’s expression softened.
She squeezed her hand.
Glinda looked down, exhaling.
“I don’t know if that makes it better or worse.”
Elphaba tilted her head. “You don’t believe her?”
Glinda hesitated.
Then—“I don’t know if she believes herself.”
A long silence stretched between them.
Elphaba nodded slowly.
Glinda sat on the edge of the bed, hands clasped in her lap.
Elphaba sat beside her.
Close enough to touch.
Close enough to remind her—
She wasn’t alone in this.
Not anymore.