Choler: Mean Girls/Wicked
Fandom: Mean Girls/Wicked (bookverse)
Summary: Every girl has something to prove.
Disclaimer: I am in no way connected with the owners of either of the aforementioned media.
Notes: And once again I prove that when I can't think of a title for a fic, I just slap it with the first remotely relevent word that comes to mind. Please bear with me, I've only seen Mean Girls once, so any OOC behavior on Gretchen's part is entirely my fault. Pairing supplied by the Brain Hurting Fanfic Pairer.
The first time Glinda turned a thimble into a buttercup, Elphaba was mildly impressed. After seeing the act repeated half a dozen times for different audiences and hearing Milla, Pfannee, and Shenshen squealing in admiration every few hours, it was simply irritating.
Glinda might have dropped some of her superficiality along with a syllable from her name, but Elphaba still couldn't resist comparing their personalities every now and then. And as much as she had come to like her roommate, it was slightly annoying to think that she was capable of things Elphaba was not. Not that she was at all interested in sorcery, Elphaba reminded herself, but if Glinda could do it, why couldn't she? Besides, sorcery was nothing but chanting and magic wands, right up Glinda's alley. Science was about logic and actual intelligence.
So she pulled out one of Glinda's textbooks one evening when she had the room to herself and turned to the very back. That morning, Glinda had performed her thimble trick twice more. Elphaba was determined to teach herself something impressive enough to prove that sorcery was nothing terribly special, in the hope that maybe such a drastic tactic would cause Glinda to be less liberal with her demonstrations.
After two hours of failed spells, Elphaba was still following the instructions aloud, growing more frustrated with each attempt. After finishing yet another incantation with a growl in her voice, she waited a few moments and then impatiently jumped to her feet to search for a different book. At first she assumed the floor was tilting under her because she had moved too quickly, maybe given herself a headache from concentrating too hard. But when she sank down again and everything kept shifting, it was clear that wasn't the case. Elphaba had just enough time to utter a few particularly vile curses before the room disappeared altogether.
The floor on which she found herself was by no means her own, nor was it at all familiar. At least she could boast to Glinda that the spell had worked, if she ever saw Glinda again. After tentatively making sure her limbs were intact, Elphaba picked herself up to see if there was anything recognizable about the place.
At first glance, it seemed like one of the more raucous gatherings hosted by the Three Queens fraternities. The room was crowded with boys, who seemed intent on downing the contents of as many brightly colored cups as possible, and girls, who tittered and milled about in their undergarments with no apparent shame. There was something strange about the way they were all dressed, and not one of them had commented on her own appearance, so Elphaba deduced it must be a costume party. She was sure the fraternities had things like these.
But not one of the guests looked familiar. She made her way through the crowd, brushing past a boy who looked a little like Avaric and several girls in ridiculous headpieces. If this was a fraternity, there were no pennants on the walls or emblems on the boys' clothes. Elphaba was beginning to feel nauseated when something caught her eye. "Sweet, it's the Wicked Witch of the West!" one of the boys yelled as she pushed past, but she hardly heard him. Across the room was Glinda's friend Shenshen—not the first person Elphaba would normally have sought out during a crisis, but she wasn't about to prioritize now.
"Shenshen," she called over the pounding music. The girl looked up. Like Shenshen, she had meticulously styled curls and devious eyes. And she was clearly drunk out of her mind. Elphaba tried again, louder "Shenshen!"
"Who?" the other girl giggled
"Aren't you Shenshen?" Elphaba asked lamely.
"Oh my God," the brown-haired girl was laughing as if Elphaba had made the wittiest remark she had ever heard. "Gretchen. My name's Gretchen." She stopped laughing and looked at Elphaba with rapt curiosity.
"I need to know—" began Elphaba.
"Oh my God," Gretchen exclaimed again, "your costume is so amazing. You look just like her. What school are you from?"
"Shiz," Elphaba answered briskly. "And I want to—"
"Ohhhh. What's your name?"
"Elphie. And I—"
"Oh, that's cute. Like an elf, right?"
"Can we go someplace and talk, please?" Elphaba demanded, elbowing someone out of the way.
Gretchen haphazardly led her into a bedroom and proceeded to evict its occupants with surprising authority. "This is Elphie," she announced, one hip thrust out, chin lifted. "We have to talk." That much done, she threw herself on the bed without mussing her hair or spilling a drop of her drink. Elphaba fleetingly imagined the real Shenshen was just as immune to indignity. "Okay, so?" Gretchen demanded.
"I don't know where I am," Elphaba said bluntly, perching beside her. "And I don't know where anyone is."
Gretchen flapped a manicured hand. "Yeah, I don't either—Karen's off somewhere, and I think Regina's still downstairs. Did you see what she's wearing? I almost wore the same thing, but she found out and I had to return it even though it fit me better." She smiled and leaned in a little closer. "Don't tell her I told you that, okay?"
"Right…ah, do you even know where Shiz is?"
"Nope," Gretchen answered cheerfully.
Elphaba hugged her legs to her chest. "Shit. Munchkinland?"
But Gretchen was studying Elphaba's bare feet. "That's crazy," she announced, sounding impressed. "What'd you use to make yourself green?"
"Accident of birth," Elphaba muttered distractedly.
"Is it stage makeup?" Gretchen persisted. "That stays on, like, forever. How much of yourself did you paint?"
"It's real," Elphaba snapped.
Gretchen tittered. "Real, huh? I bet I can get it to come off." She popped a finger in her mouth, then dabbed it on Elphaba's arm. When nothing happened, she blinked in confusion.
Impatient, Elphaba shook her off. "Yes, I told you, I'm pickling in the gangrene of amorality. Now do you know of anyone who mi—what the hell?" Gretchen was trying again, this time with her tongue.
"Can't even taste anything," she said, laughing. "Weird." She slid one hand through Elphaba's hair. "And this isn't a wig? You went all out."
This conversation was not going to progress. If the spell had truly succeeded, she would be back in Crage Hall within the hour. Therefore, there was nothing to worry about except being trampled by the revelers outside. Feeling incongruously sensible and considerably relieved, Elphaba nodded at Gretchen's cup. "Mind if I try some?"
The first sip was bitter and heady. The night couldn't get any odder, Elphaba decided, and took another drink. Gretchen was still idly combing her fingers through her hair, which was a strange, but not unpleasant, feeling. When one finger traced down to the nape of her neck and hesitated there, Elphaba looked up.
Gretchen was studying her neckline with almost comical intensity. "Oh my God, you did your whole body?" she breathed. And without waiting for an answer, she began clumsily unfastening Elphaba's dress.
In rapid succession, Elphaba flinched, yelped, and spilled the rest of the drink in her lap. Gretchen, undeterred, seemed amused. "It's kind of hot, y'know," she declared, and Elphaba had to agree. In spite of the liquid soaking through her skirt, the room was beginning to seem very warm.
"Gretchen," she began thinly, and then they kissed.
Elphaba had never been kissed before. Not like this, anyway, nothing beyond a few pecks from the occasional Quadling boy who was too daft to know better. It wasn't bad, if rather unexpected. And Gretchen, although essentially a stranger and a drunken one at that, was incredibly pretty and wearing very little. And she certainly seemed to know what she was doing. Elphaba wondered how in the world she was going to prove all this to Glinda, but with Gretchen's mouth hot against her own she decided it wasn't all that important.
And because she was curious and inexperienced and would never see this girl again anyway, she tried sliding her tongue into Gretchen's mouth the way she had heard it was supposed to be done. But Gretchen's own tongue was in the way because she was evidently doing the same thing and Elphaba was too dazed to determine whether the sensation was everything she had heard her hallmates claim it was. Completely out of her element, she could think of nothing to do but close her hands around soft brown hair and press in as close as she could. When Gretchen's lips moved to her neck, she let her head fall back and tried to think of what Glinda would do.
She must have done something right, or else the other girl was too intoxicated to care, because Gretchen was abruptly shifting towards her lap. Hastily sitting up, Elphaba yanked the damp skirt up to her waist so the she wouldn't have to touch it. Belatedly, she realized the implications of the gesture, and then promptly forgot them again as Gretchen's fingernails began lightly tracing patterns on her thighs.
The heat pulsing under her skin broke into quivers and she was suddenly too lightheaded to do anything but fall back, skirts at her waist and Gretchen kissing her again. Elphaba swore then that if she believed in any sort of god she would be sending up dutiful prayers of thanks by the dozen. She realized too late that, once again, good intentions had done her no good. Fate decided to retaliate by throwing her unspiritual sentiments back in her face, and when she reached out her arms there was nothing left to hold.
And, of course, she was back in her room, sprawled on the floor with her dress damp and rumpled. Glinda was still absent, for which Elphaba was initially grateful. After summoning enough strength to stumble into a chair, she realized it might have been more opportune if her roommate had actually seen her appear out of thin air, since now there was no way at all to prove what she had accomplished.
When Glinda returned, she cast a questioning glance at her slightly disorientated roommate but asked no questions. Elphaba never attempted to explain anything. She was left with nothing but the ability to smile secretly to herself every now and then, and the inability to ever look at Shenshen quite the same way.