Lovers
The knock at the door was soft.
Glinda practically leaped out of bed, yanking it open before Elphaba could knock again.
Elphaba arched a brow. “That was alarmingly fast.”
Glinda huffed, stepping aside. “Shut up and come in.”
Elphaba obliged, rolling her eyes but smirking as she shrugged off her coat.
Glinda watched her for a second too long, before realizing she was standing there like an idiot and quickly shutting the door.
“You really weren’t kidding about not sleeping,” Elphaba said, draping her coat over Glinda’s desk chair.
Glinda crossed her arms, leaning against the door. “Neither were you.”
Elphaba huffed, rubbing the back of her neck. “No.”
Glinda tilted her head. “Thinking about me?”
Elphaba smirked. “I was thinking about how obnoxious you are, if that counts.”
Glinda scoffed, shoving her shoulder as she passed her on the way to the bed. “You are so mean.”
Elphaba followed her, toeing off her boots, then hesitated.
She had been in Glinda’s bed before.
Many, many times.
But tonight felt… different.
Like they were toeing the edge of something too big to ignore.
Glinda patted the space beside her. “I’m not going to bite, Elphie.”
Elphaba arched a brow. “That’s debatable.”
Still, she climbed in, propping herself against the pillows, stretching out just enough that their knees brushed.
Glinda shifted to her side, facing her. “Better?”
Elphaba huffed. “I suppose.”
Silence settled between them—not awkward, just… charged.
Glinda toyed with the hem of the blanket, biting her lip.
Then—
“I liked tonight,” she said softly.
Elphaba glanced at her. “Yeah?”
Glinda nodded, tracing a pattern into the fabric between them.
Elphaba watched her carefully, eyes flicking over her features, the soft crease of her brow, the way she chewed at her lip like she was working up the nerve to say something bigger.
Then—
“I think…” Glinda hesitated.
Elphaba waited.
Glinda took a breath.
“I think you should know that you’re… important to me.”
Elphaba stilled.
Something unreadable flickered across her face.
Then—
She smirked. “That sounded serious.”
Glinda huffed, shoving at her arm. “It was serious, Elphaba!”
Elphaba caught her wrist before she could pull away, holding it lightly between her fingers.
Her voice was quieter when she said, “You’re important to me too.”
Glinda exhaled slowly.
Then—
“Like, really important.”
Elphaba arched a brow. “So you said.”
Glinda fidgeted.
Then—
“Do you think we’re going to be okay?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper.
Elphaba stilled.
She knew what she meant.
They had made it this far, past stubborn denial and ridiculous bets and the agonizing stretch of time where neither of them had been willing to say what they wanted.
But this was new.
And terrifying.
And real.
Elphaba swallowed.
Then nodded.
“We’ll be okay,” she said. Like it was a promise.
Glinda searched her face.
Then—
She shifted closer.
“Elphie,” she murmured.
Elphaba tilted her head slightly, waiting.
Glinda bit her lip. “Can I kiss you?”
Elphaba huffed a laugh, shaking her head.
Then she reached up, brushed a curl from Glinda’s face, and whispered—
“You never have to ask.”
Glinda leaned in.
And Elphaba met her halfway.
The kiss was slow, unhurried, the kind that tasted like something that had been building for years.
When they pulled back, Glinda was smiling.
Elphaba brushed her knuckles along her jaw.
“Go to sleep,” she murmured.
Glinda sighed dramatically. “Fine.”
She curled up, nestling against Elphaba’s side.
Elphaba hesitated.
Then wrapped an arm around her.
And neither of them let go.
Glinda wasn’t sleeping.
She should have been.
Elphaba’s breathing was even, steady, her arm loose but firm around Glinda’s waist, the warmth of her body radiating through the sheets. It should have been enough to lull Glinda into a peaceful sleep.
But it wasn’t.
Because she almost said it.
She had felt it build in her chest as they had laid there, wrapped up in each other, listening to the quiet hum of the night. She had opened her mouth, taken a breath, and—
Nothing.
The words had sat heavy on her tongue, begging to be spoken, aching to be set free.
And she had chickened out.
She turned her head slightly, watching Elphaba in the dim light filtering through the curtains. She looked so peaceful, so different from the sharp-edged version of herself she showed the world.
Her brows weren’t furrowed. Her lips weren’t pulled tight in irritation or skepticism. She was just… Elphaba.
The person Glinda loved.
She swallowed hard.
It wasn’t a realization—it wasn’t something new.
She had known for weeks now. Maybe longer.
But knowing it and saying it were two very different things.
What if she said it and Elphaba panicked?
What if she said it and Elphaba… didn’t say it back?
Glinda exhaled softly, shifting closer, careful not to wake her.
Not yet.
Not tonight.
Instead, she let herself trace tiny circles over the fabric of Elphaba’s shirt, feeling the slow, steady rise and fall of her breathing beneath her fingers.
One day.
She’d say it one day.
For now, she let herself exist in this moment, wrapped in Elphaba’s warmth, in the comfort of knowing that—even if she couldn’t say the words yet—Elphaba was here.
And for tonight, that was enough.
Glinda woke up to the sound of Elphaba groaning.
It was endearing, really—the way she buried her face in the pillow, grumbling in protest as the morning sun crept in through the window.
Glinda smiled sleepily, shifting against her. “Good morning to you too.”
Elphaba made a disgruntled noise.
Glinda giggled, poking at her side. “Elphie.”
Nothing.
“Elphieeee.”
A dramatic sigh. “No.”
Glinda laughed outright, shifting to prop herself up on one elbow. “What do you mean, ‘no’?”
Elphaba turned her head just enough to peek at her through one half-lidded eye. “I mean, ‘no.’”
Glinda rolled her eyes, amused. “You do realize that’s not an actual response, yes?”
Elphaba closed her eyes again. “And yet, I stand by it.”
Glinda huffed, flopping back down beside her. “You are the worst morning person I have ever met.”
Elphaba grunted in agreement.
Glinda smirked. “Would you be more inclined to get up if I bribed you with coffee?”
A long pause.
Then-
Elphaba cracked one eye open again, suspicious. “…What kind of coffee?”
Glinda grinned. “The kind that gets you out of bed.”
Elphaba exhaled slowly, considering.
Then—“Fine.”
Glinda beamed.
She was about to roll out of bed when Elphaba suddenly reached out, wrapping a lazy arm around her waist and tugging her back down.
“Elphie—”
“Five more minutes,” Elphaba murmured, voice rough with sleep, her breath warm against Glinda’s shoulder.
Glinda’s heart squeezed.
It was so simple, so small, but so much.
She swallowed.
Then let herself melt into it.
“Fine,” she whispered, tucking herself against Elphaba’s chest, letting her eyes drift shut once more.
Five more minutes.
Maybe ten.
It happened so naturally, so effortlessly, that Glinda almost didn’t realize she had said it at all.
She was half-draped over Elphaba, her head resting against Elphaba’s shoulder, one arm tucked around her waist, the other trailing slow, idle patterns over the fabric of her shirt. The warmth of the bed, the steady rise and fall of Elphaba’s breathing, the feeling of being wrapped up in something safe—it had disarmed her, stripped her of the usual caution she applied to her words.
And so, before she could think, before she could stop herself, the words slipped out.
“I love you.”
Elphaba sighed against her, a slow, contented sound, like the words settled perfectly into the space between them.
Glinda barely had time to register what she had done before Elphaba tilted her head slightly, brushing her nose along Glinda’s temple, her lips ghosting over her skin.
And then—
She kissed her.
It wasn’t hesitant.
It wasn’t questioning.
It was deliberate, full, certain—a kiss that left no room for doubt, no room for panic or second-guessing.
Glinda sighed into it, soft and breathless, shifting further against Elphaba, pressing her palm flat against her chest, feeling the steady, reassuring rhythm of her heartbeat beneath her fingertips.
Elphaba deepened the kiss, rolling slightly onto her side, one hand slipping down to Glinda’s waist, fingers curling just beneath the hem of her sleep shirt. She didn’t push, didn’t take—just held her there, close, firm, grounding.
Glinda’s heart ached in the best way possible.
When Elphaba finally pulled back, it was only by the smallest fraction. Their breaths mingled, lips still grazing as if neither of them were willing to put even an inch of space between them.
Then, in a voice softer than Glinda had ever heard from her, Elphaba murmured—
“I love you too.”
Glinda let out a shaky breath, her fingers sliding upward, tracing the sharp line of Elphaba’s jaw with an almost reverent touch.
She needed to kiss her again.
So she did.
This one was slower, sweeter, lingering, like she was tasting the weight of those words on Elphaba’s lips.
Elphaba made a sound—a quiet, blissed-out noise of approval, muffled against Glinda’s mouth, like the confession had settled something inside her, like it was a relief to finally say it, to finally mean it.
Glinda smiled into the kiss, her fingers threading into Elphaba’s hair, holding her there, close, grounded.
For a long time, neither of them moved, lost in each other, lost in the moment, lost in the quiet certainty that this—
This was everything.
When Glinda finally pulled back, it was only to press her forehead to Elphaba’s, to look her in the eyes and memorize the softness there.
“I wasn’t supposed to say that yet,” she whispered, breathless, giddy, ruined.
Elphaba huffed a quiet laugh, nudging their noses together. “Tough luck,” she murmured. “Because now I’m never letting you take it back.”
Glinda let out a delighted giggle, wrapping her arms more firmly around Elphaba and tucking herself against her chest.
“Good,” she whispered. “Because I don’t want to.”
Elphaba let out another sigh of approval, smoothing her hand over Glinda’s back, fingers light and lazy, tracing slow, absentminded patterns.
And that’s how they stayed.
Wrapped in each other, with nowhere else to be, nothing left to question.
Only this.
Only them.