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A Look Ahead at the 2024 Olympic Games

As the Paris Summer Olympics are set to begin this week, all eyes are on US superstar teams. As always, the American teams have high hopes for their performance at the 2024 summer games.

Events to watch: There is mounting pressure for the US Women’s soccer team to bring home a medal after a disappointing World Cup. Will they be able to make a run for gold under new head coach Morrible? USWNT darling Glinda Upland is back from an ACL tear (and a very public breakup with men’s soccer star Fiyero Tigelaar), and fans have high hopes that her veteran leadership will bring the team to their fifth Olympic win.

Emerging stars: Track and Field newcomer Elphaba Thropp hopes to make a statement in her Olympic debut. Having medaled in the most recent World’s competition in Prague just four months ago, Thropp is eager to show she isn’t a one-hit-wonder. Running the 200, 400, and 400m hurdles, Thropp has her work cut out for her but plenty of opportunity to shine in the first weeks of the competition. Thropp’s younger sister, Nessarose, is set to compete in the Paralympics the following month in hopes of defending her 2021 bronze medal in archery.

_________

July 2024

Elphaba cracks her neck and stretches in her seat as the plane taxis to its gate. She might be sitting in business class, but a transatlantic flight is still a transatlantic flight, she thinks, massaging the knot in her shoulder.

“Keep ending up on podiums and you’ll be flying private in no time,” Dillamond says.

Elphaba rolls her eyes but feels a slight thrill at the prospect of standing up on a podium again. “Don’t jinx it,” she chastises her coach. “Still a lot of work to be done.”

“Right you are,” he says, turning his phone on again. “We’ve got a car picking us up at the terminal and then you’re off to the village,” he says, consulting the schedule. “If you’re feeling up for it, a light training in the evening, but I’d rather you deal with jetlag first and we can start training tomorrow if need be.”

“I’ll be good to go tonight,” Elphaba assures him, already eager to stretch her legs and get some hours in on the track.

They make their way through customs with relative ease, the airport abuzz with athletes and coaches and trainers and medical staff and more identical bags than the airlines know what to do with.

Elphaba is suddenly glad for the individual nature of track and field as she doesn’t have to wait for an entire team’s worth of luggage to be unloaded. She’s starting to get the idea that the Olympics are special though - of course track is a solitary sport, but walking through the airport and seeing everyone’s clothes splashed with their nation’s colors, she can’t help but feel a pinprick of pride at getting to represent her country alongside all the other US track and field athletes.

They’re still trying to beat each other, beat everyone, but Elphaba can appreciate the camaraderie and national pride that the Olympics brings out.

Lost in this thought, in the novelty of her first Olympics, Elphaba careens directly into a smaller woman struggling with her ungodly large duffle bag.

“Shit - watch it!” the figure snaps as Elphaba shoots out a hand to keep her steady, arm curling accidentally around this woman’s waist for a split second. The woman’s hand settles on Elphaba’s bicep.

“I’m so sorry,” Elphaba mumbles, retracting her arm and reaching to grab the bag she had toppled, placing it on the woman’s luggage cart with ease.

The woman, blonde and wearing the same Nike gear as every other US athlete, sighs, “No, I’m sorry. Shouldn’t have snapped at you - long travel day.”

She finally looks up at Elphaba, taking her in, mouth slightly ajar. Elphaba braces for what she knows is coming: some snide comment about her verdigris, her green-hued skin. It’s always the first thing people notice.

The blonde considers her a moment longer, “You’re… Elphaba Thropp, right?”

Elphaba is shocked. Not only did this stranger not mention her skin color, but she knew Elphaba’s name. And she was astonishingly gorgeous.

“Yes?” Elphaba responds hesitantly.

“I thought so! I watched the trials in Eugene. Holy shit, you’re fast!” She’s speaking a mile a minute and, despite her speed, Elphaba can barely keep up.

A voice calls from within the throng of people, “Upland! Let’s move it!”

The blonde in front of Elphaba cuts herself off, “That’s me! Gotta run. Elphaba, wonderful meeting you. I’m sure we’ll run into each other again in the village. Good luck.”

“Uh - yeah, yeah, you too,” is all Elphaba can muster, too caught off guard by the entire interaction, as the blonde woman - Upland, Elphaba tells herself - slips off into the crowd.

She slides back in step with her coach, who gives her a quizzical look, “What was that all about?” Dillamond asks.

“Beats me,” Elphaba answers. “I don’t even know who that was. Upland something?”

Dillamond gives her another pointed look. “Are you joking?” he asks her genuinely. “That was Glinda Upland.”

Elphaba’s blank stare says everything he needs to know.

“Jesus, Elphaba, you really need to be better about using social media,” he reprimands. “Glinda Upland? She’s only the face of women’s soccer in the US - maybe even the world.” Elphaba makes a vague noise as they both duck into the idling car that Dillamond had scheduled. Her coach continues, “I never claimed to be socially aware nor media savvy but anyone with a cell phone has heard of Glinda Upland.”

“You know I don’t do that kind of stuff - social media stuff,” Elphaba says. “It’s all just a distraction.”

“It’s not,” Dillamond argues. “I know I’m not your manager but since you don’t have one, I’m the next closest thing. Use your Instagram. It’s a great way to connect yourself to other athletes or brands. This stuff matters these days.”

“Why can’t I just be fast and call it a day?” Elphaba whines, already knowing the answer.

“That’s not how it works anymore,” Dillamond says with a laugh. “Start posting while you’re here. I’m sure something will come of it.”

Elphaba hums noncommittally and lets the conversation drop off, happy enough to watch the streets of Paris slip by from the back of the car. This is the part of being a professional athlete that frustrates her the most - she runs because it’s the most important thing in the world to her. Nothing in her life requires the same physical, mental, and psychological training that running track does. It’s one of the few places she’s ever found peace.

But now, being an athlete means being an influencer to some degree. And, despite the public nature of sport, Elphaba just wants to be able to run her races and then fade into the background again. She’s not interested in brand deals and the drama that seems to follow young athletes these days. But she understands Dillamond’s point.

Would she like to fly private to all her competitions? Obviously, yes. Would she love to be able to be an athlete full-time instead of having to work in the off-season while in class to make ends meet? Absolutely. Elphaba understands the importance of social media in the life of an up-and-coming athlete but she can’t say she’s thrilled by the prospect of putting herself out there even more.

“That Upland girl knew me, even without a social media presence,” Elphaba argues.

“And you didn’t know her - one of the biggest names in women’s sports.”

Elphaba sighs, “Okay, point taken. I’ll post something the moment I step foot in the Olympic Village.”

To illustrate her willingness, Elphaba takes out her phone and opens Instagram. Her feed is fairly bare and is comprised exclusively of photos from meets or photoshoots. The most recent post was after she had qualified and Nike did a photo shoot with all the sprinters. The photos are cool, objectively - lots of blue and red lighting, which looks great on everyone else and only slightly weird on the green girl. And Elphaba had gained a lot of new followers when she made the Olympic team. Perhaps there was something to be said about this after all, though she would never give her coach the satisfaction of admitting it.

_________

When the car pulls up to the Olympic Village, the full reality of the next month sets in for Elphaba.

Every single athlete dreams of making it to the Olympics and to finally be here is something uniquely special, Elphaba thinks. Having narrowly missed out on qualifying in 2020, Elphaba feels a particular urgency to prove herself as a newly minted Olympian.

“You’re lucky,” Dillamond says to her as they haul their bags towards the Team USA house. “Last time everyone had roommates. And cardboard beds.”

Elphaba laughs, “Glad to hear they’ve splurged on the accommodations this year.”

They grab their keys and make plans to meet at the practice facility later that evening before parting ways: Elphaba to her designated dorm and Dillamond to the coaches’ housing. Elphaba’s room is… small. There’s a twin-sized bed (not cardboard, she notes, but not much better), a desk, and a small bathroom. It’s not much but she doesn’t anticipate spending much time here anyway.

After a quick shower and set of stretches, Elphaba finds herself exhausted but too excited to nap. Instead, she opts for a wander around the Village. As she walks, getting acquainted with where the training facilities, the gym, and the cafeteria are, she finds herself hoping to run into a familiar face - anyone she might know from the Track and Field circuit - or from the soccer team her brain supplies before she can stop herself.

Before she can interrogate that thought, she hears her name called from somewhere behind her.

“Elphaba! Elphaba, wait up!” someone calls after her.

She turns just in time to absorb the blow from a small body slamming into hers, arms wrapping around her waist.

“Boq!” she cries as she untangles herself from the shorter man. “I’m so glad to have run into you!” she says with genuine delight. Of all the track and field athletes on the professional circuit, Boq is one of the few that Elphaba sincerely enjoys spending time with. It’s not that she’s not cordial with the other runners, but Boq somehow needled his way into an actual friendship. It helps that, as a jumper, there’s no way for the two of them to compare sports despite being in the same discipline. They’re not able to compete, even subtly.

They hadn’t seen each other except in passing at Trials the month before, and it felt nice to catch up with an old friend.

They strolled the Village together, discussing the upcoming opening ceremonies and events they wanted to catch after Track and Field closed. It was easy, they knew each other well enough to know that talking about their own events would do nothing but cause further anxiety.

Eventually, Boq looked down at his watch. “Oh hey! Women’s soccer is about to kick off! We probably have time to catch the first half before training.” And without waiting for a confirmation, he drags Elphaba into the Team USA house. There are huge screens set up and dozens of other athletes sitting on chairs and couches, some even on the floor, as the game got underway.

Elphaba turns to whisper to Boq, “Why are they playing? The games haven’t even begun.”

“It’s soccer,” Boq retorts, as though that answers the question. He rolls his eyes when Elphaba stares blankly at him, “Soccer begins before the opening ceremonies because they have so many games to play over such a short period of time, they need the extra couple days of rest.”

“That’s wild,” Elphaba says, “I ran into them in the airport just this morning. No rest for the weary, I suppose.”

Boq’s eyes light up. “You saw them?! Oh my gosh, tell me everything,” he practically begs.

“Are you… fangirling right now?”

“Obviously,” Boq says, “they’re America’s team! I’ve been following them for years!”

Elphaba hums, turning her attention back to the game. “I had no idea.”

“Clearly,” Boq snarks. “But really, tell me everything. Who did you see?”

Eyes glued to the screen, Elphaba tries to keep the flush from rising in her cheeks. “Um, her. I spoke with Upland briefly,” she says, gesturing towards the game where Glinda is looming larger than life as she sets up for a throw-in.

“Are you kidding me?” Boq asks, incredulous. “You spoke to Glinda Upland?”

“Yeah? I ran into her. Literally. I tripped over her.”

Boq is clearly growing annoyed at having to pull every last detail out of Elphaba, “Okay, and? What did she say?”

Elphaba huffs, “Nothing, I apologized. That was it.”

“Lame,” Boq says, deflated.

“Well, she recognized me, which was weird.”

“That’s not that weird,” Boq says. “I’m pretty sure you’re the only green person here, you’d be hard to miss."

If anyone else had said it, Elphaba would have bristled at the mention of her skin. But this was Boq, and they’ve known each other for so long - since college - and she knew he meant it plainly and without malice.

“Fair,” she says, “I just didn’t expect her to know me. Or to have watched me at Trials.”

Boq turns from the game to look at Elphaba, mouth open, “Holy shit. Glinda Upland watched your races at the Olympic Trials?”

Elphaba feels her cheeks flush and hopes Boq doesn’t notice in the dim light. “I mean,” she starts, “She probably watched yours too. They were all on at the same time.”

“Yeah, but she wouldn’t have recognized me at the airport!”

“Well, have you considered being a weird color? That, apparently, makes you quite recognizable,” Elphaba deadpans.

Boq just mumbles something about meeting America’s sweetheart at the airport and goes back to watching the game. Elphaba gets it, there isn’t a lot of fame to be had in the long-jumping world. Jumpers are exceptional athletes who train just as hard as the rest of them but often fail to find the same recognition as sprinters or gymnasts or soccer stars.

Elphaba has watched soccer before. She knows the rules (mostly) and can follow the game but she’s just never really enjoyed it. This is different. There’s a grace and undeniable athleticism to the way both teams are playing that Elphaba finds intriguing. And the atmosphere in the team house is electric - everyone cheering and whooping or groaning at missed opportunities.

At some point, Elphaba remembers her promise to Dillamond and grabs her phone. Opening Instagram, she finds a notification from several hours ago:

@GUpland4 started following you

Elphaba hits “Follow Back” before she can talk herself out of it - she’s just doing what her coach asked, connecting with other athletes. Shaking her head, she takes a short video of Boq and the other athletes gathered around the game and posts it to her story with the caption: “Everyone’s cheering on the @uswnt here in Paris. @jumper_boq”

As the first half of the game winds down, with the US up 2-0, some people in the lounge begin peeling off for dinner or training or whatever other obligations they may have. Elphaba begins to get up but is stopped when the camera cuts to a sideline interview with a certain blonde striker.

The announcer speaks into his own microphone before holding it out to Glinda, “I’m here with Glinda Upland, captain of the US team and scorer of the go-ahead goal. Glinda, how do you feel the game is going so far?”

Upland is flushed and sweaty, having just jumped off the field after 45 minutes of gameplay, but still cracks a gracious smile. “Nice to see you, Crope,” she addresses the interviewer. “So far, I’m happy with our performance. Have we missed some chances? Definitely - and we’ll be talking about that in the locker room, believe me,” Glinda laughs. “But for the opening game of the Olympics? I’m happy with what we’re seeing and it certainly feels good to be two goals up going into the half.”

Elphaba is immediately smitten.

“We’re looking forward to regrouping and showing up again for the final 45,” she smiles and ends the interview herself, running after the rest of her team through the tunnel.

“Alright, that was straight from the source, Glinda Upland herself. Tibbet, back to you in the studio.”

Boq turns to Elphaba and with a smirk, says, “Do you see it now?”

Elphaba clears her throat, “Uh - yeah. I think I do.” She can feel the dark green blush creep back up her cheeks.

“You know she swings both ways, right?” Boq says, grinning madly.

Elphaba slaps the back of his head, pointedly ignoring him. “I’m getting ready for practice. Let’s grab dinner tonight?”

“As long as I can tease you about your newfound and massive crush on Glinda Upland.”

“Okay cool, I’ll just eat with the sprinters, then. Goodnight, Boq!” She laughs as she heads back to her room to change.

_________

Elphaba didn’t get to watch the rest of Glinda’s match - the US Women’s match, she corrects herself - nor does the brief interaction with the soccer player distract her at practice. If there’s one thing Elphaba is good at, it’s shutting off the outside noise and focusing on the sprint.

The training is a light one, just shaking off the jetlag and settling into the routine of the Olympics. Dillamond has one other sprinter who qualified this year - Avaric was running the 100m and couldn’t be more obsessed with himself. Most of the 100m runners were, though - Elphaba noticed a certain narcissism that came with wanting to be the fastest person alive. She understood the desire but didn’t share it, which is why she focuses only on the 200 and 400m sprints - enough ego to make it a fun competition but not enough to make it abhorrent, she thought.

But since they shared a coach, Elphaba and Avaric were often found training together - much to the green girl’s dismay.

All of their training has been done - over the last four, eight, fifteen years. It’s everything they’ve worked for. The next several days before qualifying rounds aren’t even fine-tuning; it’s just muscle memory at this point. Just keeping everything well-oiled.

Today, interns from Nike were in the gym, filming behind-the-scenes interviews with some of the more notable sprinters, Avaric among them. Elphaba, sweaty from the workout, clad in only a sports bra and running tights, tries to sneak out to the ice bath before the cameras are trained on her.

“Miss. Thropp!”

Dammit, thinks Elphaba.

She turns, plastering on her the most genuine smile she can muster and wiping her brow with the towel slung over her shoulder.

“Just a couple questions for you before you head out - if that’s alright?” the intern asks. Turns out that when Nike sponsors all the Olympic runners, you do, in fact, have to do all their interviews.

“Sure,” Elphaba says with feigned excitement. “Fire away.”

It starts with the standard stuff: “How are you feeling going into your first Olympics?” Good, ready, eager to start. “Are you looking forward to watching your sister at the Paralympics? Of course. It’s fun to be in Paris with her, supporting each other. “What are you most excited about for these games?” Just to be around other athletes, other people at the very top of their sport, whatever it may be. It’s a really inspiring atmosphere.

Then some slightly harder-hitting questions. The interviewer asks, “So, you’re one of the only women running the 200 who is not running the 100 even though that was one of your races in college. Why the switch?”

Elphaba sighs, “In all honesty, there isn’t much room for another personality in the 100 meters. At the collegiate level it was fine, but once I turned pro, the mindset around the 100 became…” she thinks on how to phrase this in a way that won’t get her in trouble. “It just became more about the athlete and the attitude than the race. I don’t have time for that noise - I just want to run and run fast and that’s easier to do without the ego involved in the 100.”

The interviewer is taken aback by the candor, “Wow, okay. Well, any other sports you’re excited to watch during these games?”

Elphaba is grateful to steer the conversation somewhere with a bit more levity. “Absolutely! In fact, I was just watching some of the opening soccer matches. Those women are incredible!” She gives a genuine smile for the first time since the interview started. “I actually ran into Glinda Upland in the airport this morning and I definitely understand the hype. She’s a superb athlete and seemed a really lovely person, too. Looking forward to catching a match in person when our events are finished.”

The woman takes the mic back and turns to the camera, “You heard it here folks, Women’s soccer is the event to watch in these games. Thanks for chatting with us, Elphaba. See you on the track.”

Elphaba gives a cursory nod and heads into the recovery room.

_________

On the massage table, Elphaba manages to fish her phone out from her training bag while her trainer stretches her this way and that. Unlocking her phone, she finds it flooded with… a shit ton of notifications.

“What the fuck?” she whispers, mostly to herself.

The trainer thought Elphaba was responding to a particular stretch and halted his movements. “Did that hurt?” he asked with concern.

Elphaba waved him off, “No, no sorry just,” she wiggled her phone from where she lay on the table and the trainer seemed to get the message.

Returning to her phone, she tries to understand where these notifications came from - I only posted one tiny video, she reasons to herself, where could these hundreds of likes and new follower notifications be coming from? She scrolls to the bottom of the new notifications.

@uswnt reposted your story.

Well, Elphaba thinks, that explains it.

They had, in fact, reposted Elphaba’s short video with the caption, “Thanks for the support @e_thropp - we’ll be watching you run in a couple days! #GoUSA”

Thus, the followers flood in—apparently, the US Women’s team has a host of devoted fans who now equally adore the green sprinter.

And there was one unread message from an hour ago.

@GUpland4: thanks for tuning in xx

Elphaba’s fingers hesitated over the keyboard. Am I supposed to respond? she asks herself, generally still unsure of the social media code of conduct. Can’t hurt, she decides.

@e_thropp: Anytime. Congrats on the win.

Elphaba never started running, never turned pro for the fame it brought. It was just something she loved and was unusually good at. She has the work ethic, the discipline, the mindset to be a great athlete and Coach Dillamond molded her into one. So even though Elphaba exists within a certain world of celebrity, she never thought of herself as one (or acted like one). So now that there was an actual celebrity - someone who (Elphaba is quickly learning) is universally adored - stopping Elphaba at the airport and sliding into her DMs, the green girl admits she feels a bit of a thrill.

Elphaba expects the conversation to end there and is surprised when, as she steels herself for her post-training ice bath, her phone buzzes again.

@GUpland4: felt nice to make a statement

@GUpland4: when’s ur first race?

Elphaba balks. What on earth is going on? she wonders. Is Glinda Upland really, genuinely, actually interested in my qualifiers?

@e_thropp: I’m sure. I think I’ve got qualifiers for 400 hurdles and 200 dash on Sunday.

And then Elphaba, in the spirit of the Olympics, this one-in-a-lifetime event, does something she never thought she would do. She shoots her shot.

@e_thropp: Will I see you and your winning team at the Opening Ceremonies tomorrow?

@GUpland4: tragically, they’ve got us headed to marseille tmrw for our next match

@e_thropp: You’re not even in Paris?

@GUpland4: no, seems there’s another olympic event occupying the stade de frace for the next couple weeks

@e_thropp: Oh, you mean me?

@e_thropp: Us*

@e_thropp: Track & Field*, I mean.

@GUpland4: yeah, you, elphaba

@GUpland4: they sent soccer packing so you could run around for a while

Elphaba rolls her eyes but finds herself enjoying the back-and-forth banter more than she expected.

@e_thropp: Well, I thoroughly appreciate the sacrifice you’ve made.

@e_thropp: When will you get to play in Paris?

@GUpland4: if we make it to the semis - that’ll be the first match at the stade

@e_thropp: So I should buy my ticket now?

@GUpland4: don’t get ahead of yourself, thropp

@e_thropp: I’m not getting ahead of myself.

@e_thropp: I’m merely anticipating the inevitable.

@GUpland4: so will you let me try on ur impending gold medal then?

@GUpland4: i’ve only ever gotten to wear bronze before

@e_thropp: Alright, now you’ve jumped the gun.

@e_thropp: Pun intended.

“Thropp! Out of the ice - you’re gonna get hypothermia before the games even begin!” The trainer’s voice startles Elphaba from her texting and she looks up to see that nearly half an hour has passed. Normally, ice baths are the worst part of training but Elphaba didn’t even realize how long she had been soaking.

At some point, Boq had wandered into the recovery room (which also went unnoticed by the green woman). “Oh dang,” he says too loudly. “Is Elphaba Thropp distracted?”

Elphaba glares at him from across the room, toweling off the frigid water. “Shut it, Biq. Come find me when you’re done.” To his credit, Boq merely rolls his eyes at Elphaba as she steps into the locker room, gym bag in tow.

Elphaba doesn’t hang around long in the locker room, doesn’t like to. For someone who spent the better part of her life trying to hide and cover up her skin, the transition to professional sprinter wasn’t easy. Elphaba had to come to terms with putting much of her verdant skin on display whenever she ran.

For a long time, in high school and much of college, Elphaba was one of the runners who wore tights and a compression shirt instead of the standard spandex shorts and glorified sports bra. It wasn’t the most comfortable way to run, but Elphaba felt she was more easily able to blend in, felt she was less likely to be noticed for her skin color.

It wasn’t until she was beginning to really be scouted - midway through her collegiate career - that Elphaba made the choice to switch to the lighter, more breathable, more aerodynamic outfits that all the other sprinters were wearing. It took her a long time to even feign comfort. Ironically, the thing that made Elphaba so good at running is also the thing that eventually made her comfortable in her own skin: her uncanny ability to shut off every part of her brain except the part that said, run.

When she listened to that part of her brain, everything else fell away. Elphaba wasn’t green, she wasn’t a disappointment, she wasn’t a freak. She was a collection of muscles and bone and sinew moving in perfect harmony. Once she was able to come to that conclusion and find that mode of thinking, any self-deprecation she felt about her verdigris dissipated. It helped that, by that time, she had been on the circuit long enough that most everyone had already encountered the brooding green runner and their looks of shock became less and less frequent.

Elphaba throws on her sweats and a cropped t-shirt - everything splashed with American flags and “Team USA” - before tossing her gym bag over her shoulder.

On her way out the door, she stops at one of the large, full-length mirrors and snaps a quick photo, muttering under her breath about giving the people what they want. Without thinking too hard about it, she adds the photo to her story, making sure to cross-post it to her even-less-frequently-used Twitter page with the caption, “First Olympic training session in the books. Feeling good.”

Elphaba pockets her phone, slips her headphones on, and heads back through the Village as the sun sets on her first day as an Olympian.

_________

Elphaba slides in across from Boq, setting her plate down with a thud.

“What is going on with you, Fae?” Boq asks her, resorting to an old nickname.

Elphaba unlocks her phone and slides it across the table, text conversation with Glinda open.

“Is she… flirting with me?”

Boq skims over the thread, mouth falling further open with each message he reads.

“Elphaba.” He breathes. “I say this with all the love in the world but what the fuck?”

Elphaba drops her head onto the table and lets out an exaggerated groan.

“You’re flirting with her! You didn’t even know who Glinda Upland was 6 hours ago and now you guys are like basically making out in your DMs.”

“Boq!” Elphaba chastizes from her face-down position on the table.

“How did this happen?” he asks, voice tinged with wonder.

Elphaba lifts her head slightly, “I have no idea. Genuinely. She just sent me a message and I responded!”

Boq considers this for a moment before turning a serious eye to his friend, “You’re not going to let this distract you, right? I mean, Glinda Upland flirting with you is insane and incredible but this is the Olympics,” he stresses.

“I would never lose sight of that, Boq. Running is the distraction,” Elphaba says sincerely. “We’ve all worked our entire lives to get here and as fun as it is to banter with Glinda Upland, I’m not going to let her get in the way of this. I promise.”

“Okay, good. Because this,” he says, pointing to Elphaba’s phone, “is utterly incredible and I want every single update the second it happens.”

“There’s nothing else to say - this is the extent of our interactions. Except for the time when I ran over her in the airport and said fewer than 5 words.”

As if on cue, Elphaba’s phone buzzes in Boq’s hand and he stares at the green girl with wide eyes. “Oh my god. It’s her. Open it right now.”

Elphaba rolls her eyes but blushes a deep emerald and holds out her hand for the phone.

@GUpland4 responded to your story: and looking good xx

Elphaba’s blush gets darker and she places the phone face down on the table, much to Boq’s dismay.

He looks at his friend incredulously. “You literally just promised to give me any and all updates. Don’t deprive me now.”

“I promised no such thing. You were the one who said that.”

Boq narrows his eyes and grabs his own phone from his pocket, tapping furiously at the screen for a brief moment.

“Oh my god. She responded to your thirst trap, didn’t she?” Boq says triumphantly, as though having solved a case.

“The hell is a thirst trap?”

Boq turns his phone around and Elphaba is greeted by the photo she had just posted of herself in the locker room. “This is a thirst trap,” her friend explains, turning the phone back and looking closer at the photo. “I must admit, you do look good.”

“Are you flirting with me now?” Elphaba laughs.

Boq waves her away, “Wrong Thropp sister, sorry.”

They stand up, clear their plates and start towards the exit. Bursting out of the cafeteria and into the warm night air, Elphaba looks over at Boq. “Okay, speaking of, when are you going to ask my sister out? You’ve been into her for years. Though I’m beginning to suspect Nessarose is the only one on earth who doesn’t know.” Elphaba is happy to turn the tables on her friend, ignoring the pull of feeling in her gut at Glinda’s latest message.

Boq flushes now. “After the games, I promise. I don’t want to distract either of us.” Elphaba hums, understanding the sentiment. Boq continues, “Neither of us need whatever nonsense you and Captain Upland have going on right now.”

Elphaba says nothing, choosing to ignore Boq’s pointed comment, however humorous it may have been. Her phone buzzes again and she pulls it from her pocket, Boq’s face lighting up.

“Don’t get too excited,” Elphaba says. “It’s Dillamond.” The sprinter reads over the short message in silence. “He says I’ve got a uniform fitting at nine and then training at eleven. What time do we need to be at the Opening Ceremonies?”

“Uh… I think 4:30?” Boq says with a shrug.

“How do you not know? I thought you’ve done this before.”

“Sorry I don’t remember the daily schedule from Tokyo.” His tone is joking but Elphaba immediately regrets asking, cringing internally at herself. Boq had qualified for the Tokyo Olympics but nerves got the best of him at the games and he woefully underperformed, not even landing among the top 10 long jumpers.

Elphaba knows he’s done the work since then, not just the physical work - Boq has always been an incredible jumper -  but the mental work. So much of the games is about drowning out the noise and the other competitors and simply focusing on the event before you. It took Boq that 2020 defeat to learn how to manage the mental side of the sport.

“Fair enough,” Elphaba says, glossing over the mention of his time in Tokyo. “Come find me before you head there? I don’t want to be left suck with Avaric all night.”

Boq snorts. “I’ll find you, don’t worry.”

Elphaba peels off at her assigned dorm building. “I’ll catch you tomorrow, then. Goodnight, Boq.”

“Night, Fae.”

_________

Upland and Tigelaar on the outs: what we know about the soccer power-couple breakup

Glinda Upland and her longtime boyfriend, Fiyero Tigelaar, announced their mutual breakup on social media this Friday. They didn’t cite a reason for the split but emphasized that there was no bad blood lingering between them.

Tigelaar, 28, plays professionally with the Tottenham Hotspurs and for the French National Team. The midfielder was born in London but claims French citizenship through his parents, allowing him to play for Le Bleu. Tigelaar led France to their World Cup victory in 2018 and to their second-place finish in 2022 in Dubai.

Upland, 26, has been the de facto star of the US women’s team since her debut in 2018. With 55 goals in 89 caps, Upland helped the US win a bronze medal in the 2021 Olympics but during her second year playing club soccer with Arsenal, Upland tore her ACL and sat out the 2023 World Cup.

The two were first spotted together in London after Upland moved from playing for Seattle in the NWSL to Arsenal in 2021. Their relationship was very public and they were often discussed as a “power-couple” within the international soccer world.

Engagement rumors flew after Glinda was spotted sporting a ring at the USWNT camp prior to three Olympic send-off games. Not only did the couple dispel the rumors, but they also announced their breakup in the wake of the speculation.

_________

It was late and Elphaba found herself googling Glinda Upland. She blamed it on the jet lag but it more likely had something to do with her growing fascination with the soccer player. The green woman clicks on the next piece about Upland.

Boq was right, Glinda did swing both ways, if this 2022 Autostraddle article was to be believed.

Unlike Glinda, Elphaba never came out publicly. She didn’t think she had the star power or following to warrant some big announcement. For Elphaba, she always reasoned that, if you knew, you knew. She wasn’t announcing it nor was it a secret. Being gay was just something she was, much like being a runner or being green.

Glinda, who was living much more significantly in the public eye, did come out, after having been with her boyfriend for a little while. At least, that’s what the article Elphaba is reading would suggest. Glinda made a brief statement on social media a couple years ago when she and Fiyero were spotted marching at Pride in London. 

Elphaba closed out of the article and reopened Instagram, now looking over Glinda’s profile. Whatever shame she may have felt about cyberstalking the footballer was overshadowed by curiosity. Her profile was exactly what one would expect from a famous athlete: nearly 10 million followers, tons of brand and ad work, shots of practices and game days. Elphaba flicked up to watch her story. Glinda’s story mirrors what Elphaba learned about her in their very brief interaction at the airport: full of energy, slightly chaotic, endlessly charming.

Photos and videos of the team in the locker room after their win showed a jovial atmosphere, players dancing and singing, generally just celebrating their victory. The next video was a close-up of Glinda herself in what must have been her hotel room, Elphaba thinks, speaking directly to the camera.

“Just wanted to say a quick thank you to all who came out today. It was such an incredible atmosphere and it felt amazing to see so many USA fans in the stands. Thank you for showing up before the games even begin, thank you for showing up to a place that isn’t Paris, thank you for being SO loud. It was an honor to play for you. And to everyone watching from home, we appreciate all the support. See you in a couple days - off to Marseille to play more football!”

The next photo was a screenshot of the video Elphaba had posted earlier with the caption, “Extra special thanks to my new pal @e_thropp for watching from the Team USA house - I suppose can forgive you for running me over in the airport #LFG”

Elphaba responded.

@e_thropp: Oh, so this is where all my new followers came from?

@e_thropp: I didn’t realize you had an army at your disposal.

Glinda’s reply is immediate.

@GUpland4: ur welcome

@GUpland4: i’m a benevolent ruler and use my powers for good - enjoy all ur new fans

Elphaba feels a lazy smile cross her face and wonders how absolutely insane she must look to the outside observer. Luckily, there was no one around to watch her blush at a text message from a relative stranger in the middle of the night.

@e_thropp: So, when’s your next match?

@GUpland4: that sounds like a perfectly google-able question

@e_thropp: Where’s the fun in that?

@e_thropp: I’ve got America’s sweetheart in my DMs, might as well get my info directly from the source.

@GUpland4: america’s sweetheart? is that what they’re calling me now?

@e_thropp: That’s exactly what my friend called you this morning, so I can only assume it’s true.

@e_thropp: Though it seems he has a fat crush on you as well - so not sure he can be trusted.

@GUpland4: “as well”????

Elphaba nearly drops her phone, not realizing her syntactical blunder until Glinda pointed it out. “Shit,” she whispers to herself into the empty room. “Coming on way too strong.”

@e_thropp: … I plead the fifth.

@GUpland4: how interesting…

@GUpland4: we’re playing germany on sunday afternoon, if u must know

They chat for a bit longer, Elphaba not eager to put the phone down despite the lateness. But eventually, the need for rest overwhelms the desire to keep doing whatever it is they’re doing and Elphaba signs off for the night.

@GUpland4: goodnight, elphaba xx

@e_thropp: Night, Glinda.

Elphaba puts her phone down and sighs loudly. “You are well and truly fucked,” she says to herself matter-of-factly before settling into bed and attempting to get some rest.

_________

“Boq,” Elphaba calls from inside the dressing room. “Boq, this is insanely ugly.”

It’s Avaric who answers her, “The Opening Ceremony fits get uglier every year. Just be glad there isn’t a hat.”

“What on earth do you know about being ugly, Avaric?” Elphaba huffs as she tries to adjust the blazer around her broad shoulders.

Avaric laughs from his neighboring dressing room, “You flatter me.”

“Like you don’t consistently top the Buzzfeed articles about hottest Olympians,” Elphaba rolls her eyes. She might not like Avaric all the time but he is objectively handsome.

Boq emerges from his fitting room somewhere down the hall to join the conversation. “You know, Elphaba, isn’t there always someone else making those lists? A certain blonde soccer player, perhaps?” he drawls, voice thick with humor.

Avaric pokes his head out from behind the curtain, “No fucking way,” he says incredulously. “You and Upland? Seriously?”

Elphaba gives Boq a long and pointed glare, enough to make him raise both hands in mock surrender.

“There is no ‘me and Upland,’” Elphaba clarifies.

“But you want there to be,” Avaric supplies.

“Wouldn’t everyone? I mean, look at her!” Elphaba snaps.

“Yeah, but I don’t think Glinda Upland is sliding into anyone else’s DMs, Fae,” Boq says, his surrender only momentary, it seems.

Elphaba swivels on Boq again, finger pointed in his face, “Say another word. I dare you.”

Avaric, for his part, just stands with his mouth agape, looking between the other two athletes. “No fucking way,” he repeats.

“Would one of you boys please be useful and help me tie this tie?” Elphaba says, hands flailing at her neck.

Boq steps forward and deftly fixes her tie, finishing the notably ugly outfit all the Americans have to wear during the Opening Ceremonies. Blue jeans, a button-up with a tie, and a rowing blazer give the illusion of some preppy English private school - not the nation’s most elite athletes.

“Luckily, we only have to wear this for an hour,” Boq placates.

_________

The one hour that Boq promised quickly turned into several more, with both rain and technological issues delaying the start of the Opening Ceremonies.

If Elphaba were to look at the bright side, she would think that this Opening Ceremonies idea was actually kind of neat - each nation on their own boat, parading down the Seine. Paris was gorgeous, lit up and buzzing with energy.

But if she were to take the more pessimistic viewpoint, Elphaba would say that they’ve been sitting on a boat in the pouring rain for over an hour while wearing some very hideous outfits.

Both are true.

But despite the rain, the atmosphere is still festive. Athletes are giving interviews and waving flags in the wet air of the Seine, basking in the celebratory mood. While everyone is happy to be here, most people seem excited for this part to be over and for the actual sport to begin tomorrow.

Elphaba takes a photo of Boq, Avaric, and a few of the other track athletes smiling from under their rain ponchos and posts it to her Instagram. They lean over the side of the boat, waving their small American flags at the thin crowd sticking out the weather to watch the parade. A group of swimmers stands next to them, and Elphaba had spoken to a table tennis pair earlier in the evening - it’s a nice reminder that there are hundreds of events happening in the next month and each one is vitally important to those athletes. Elphaba finally feels utterly glad to be here.

Her phone buzzes so constantly that she has Boq turn most of the notifications off. Her newfound followers are liking and responding to her posts in a way that she’s never seen before. She’s grateful but overwhelmed.

When a notification does come through, she knows it must be someone she follows back, all others having been muted. Nessarose responds to several of her posts, sending a few heart-eyed emojis at the photo of Boq. Friends and a few fellow athletes who aren’t at the games like her stories.

And naturally, Glinda responds to the same image of Boq and co.

@GUpland4: how’s opening ceremonies?

@e_thropp: Damp.

@e_thropp: But fun. Bummer you guys can’t be here.

@GUpland4: let’s fix that

The next message contains a phone number and the instructions: “Facetime me.”

“Holy shit. Boq. Boq, Boq, Boq. Glinda wants me to Facetime her. Right now,” Elphaba panics, hitting her friend on the shoulder with the back of her hand.

Boq, drunk on the energy of the parade, yells, “Do it! She just wants to be in on the action!”

So Elphaba calls Glinda Upland.

She picks up on the first ring and Elphaba is so struck by the sight of her, blonde hair pulled back into a bun, the long sweep of her neck on display, that she fails to immediately notice the several women in the background behind Glinda, peering over her shoulder to get a better look at the screen.

Once the image comes into focus, the women - teammates, Elphaba assumes - break into raucous cheers: “She’s real!” “Upland isn’t fucking with us!” “That’s the sprinter!” “And she’s hot!”

Elphaba clears her throat, suddenly self-conscious. “Hi,” she says quietly.

Glinda blushes lightly at her teammate’s antics and Elphaba blushes deeply at the whole situation. “Hi,” Glinda echoes, staring at the green girl through the camera. “Turn me around, show us the sights,” she says, finding her voice.

The sprinter spins the phone around and pans across the scene. Over the phone, Elphaba can hear the soccer team oohing and aahing; some people clearly jealous at having to miss the opening event.

The swimmers standing next to Elphaba and Boq catch sight of Glinda as Elphaba holds her phone aloft. One of them leans in, “Holy shit it’s Glinda Upland!” he says, motioning for his teammates to come look. Elphaba hears Glinda laugh, loud and clear, over the phone even though she can’t see her. Soon Elphaba becomes little more than a pedestal holding Glinda and the rest of the USWNT up as Glinda chats with the other athletes that pass by, wishing them luck with their events, laughing at how utterly ridiculous the whole situation is.

Elphaba manages to wrest her phone back and finally turns it around to herself again. She pulls a stuttering Boq into the frame and introduces him to Glinda and a few of the other footballers who remain on the call. The whole thing only manages to get more ridiculous when a TV crew spots the runners chatting with Glinda and ropes Elphaba and Glinda into a very strange, long-distance, joint interview.

Before Elphaba even understands what’s happening, the little green light on the camera blinks at her as she holds her phone up next to her face, Glinda smiling brightly and genuinely from the screen.

“We’re here at the Opening Ceremonies with Team USA sprinter Elphaba Thropp, who is here with the captain of the women’s soccer team, Glinda Upland. Glinda, you and your team just won your opening group-stage match yesterday against Zambia - how does that feel?” the interviewer asks, extending the mic out to Elphaba’s phone.

“It feels wonderful, thank you for asking,” Glinda answers graciously, voice tinny from the speakers. “It’s definitely a good start but we’re playing Germany in two days so no rest for the wicked!”

“And obviously you’re joining us here via video chat,” the interviewer explains needlessly.

“Yes, we’ve just arrived in Marseille, where we’ll be playing the next match. The whole team is disappointed not to be at the Opening Ceremonies with the rest of the athletes but thanks to my new pal here, we’re able to tag along virtually for a bit,” Glinda says and Elphaba, who has yet to say a word during this interview, quirks a lopsided smile.

Finally, the interviewer turns to the sprinter, “Yes of course! Elphaba, this is your first Olympic Games. What are you most looking forward to about the next month?”

Elphaba clears her throat, “It already feels very special. I raced this year at World’s but it’s clear that the Olympics is a totally different beast,” she huffs out a short laugh.

On the phone, Glinda chirps, “Turn me!” which Elphaba hears but isn’t picked up on the mic. Elphaba angles her phone slightly so Glinda is no longer being broadcast but can look at the green girl while she speaks. The whole set-up is laughable but they’re making it work.

Elphaba continues, “I’m mostly looking forward to running on the biggest stage there is - this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for me and I can’t wait to get on the track.” She cracks a genuine smile this time and Glinda mirrors it from the phone screen.

“Now, Elphaba, Track and Field events end in the second week of the games and then your friends here will potentially be playing out the semi-final and final matches of soccer in the same stadium. Will you be in attendance?”

Elphaba glances at Glinda who merely raises a pixilated eyebrow at her. “I’ve already been scolded once for making presumptions about how far the US team will go so I won’t make that same mistake again,” Elphaba laughs, the interviewer chuckles alongside her. “But if they do end up in the Stade de France, I think I know someone who might be able to get me a ticket,” she says smugly.

“Glinda, will you be able to watch any track events this year?”

Elphaba tilts the screen back, “Unfortunately, not in person this time around. But you better believe I’ll be glued to my phone as the results come in!” Glinda says, as several members of her team can be heard ridiculing her in the background.

“Alright then, thanks for speaking with us, you two.” Blessedly, the interview seems to be wrapping up, Elphaba thinks. “Elphaba, enjoy your first Olympic Games. Glinda, good luck to you and the rest of the US women over there in the South of France. What a fun way to chat with you all! Back to the studio.”

The camera blinks off and the cameraman gives a thumbs-up, ushering the interviewer away.

Elphaba lets out a long-suffering sigh and looks back down at the Glinda on her phone. “This has been the most chaotic 15 minutes of my entire life,” Elphaba says matter-of-factly, causing Glinda to break into peals of laughter.

“That was the weirdest interview I’ve ever done,” she manages between gasps and laughs. The two finally get a grip, Glinda wiping a tear from the corner of her eye from laughing too hard while Elphaba pinches the bridge of her nose, equal parts embarrassed and entertained. Boq edges his way back into the frame.

“Okay,” Glinda finally drawls. “I’ll let you guys go back to your parade. Thanks for showing us the sights. Nice to meet you, Boq.”

“Oh-uh, yeah! You too!” Boq manages.

Elphaba takes the phone back. “Bye, Glinda,” she says, mouth curling up into a soft smirk.

Glinda bites her lip. “Maybe you could call me again later?” She’s the picture of total coolness and composure except for the bright flush creeping up her cheeks.

Elphaba feels her own chest flush and looks silently down at her phone for what feels like a very long moment before saying, “Yeah, maybe so.”

Glinda smiles widely and brilliantly as the room behind her erupts into cheers and jeers alike. “Night,” she whispers as the blush blooms deeper across her face.

Elphaba ends the call. There is a beat of silence as she makes eye contact with Boq.

“Clearly there is no ‘you and Upland,’” the long jumper antagonizes, parroting Avaric’s earlier comment.

Elphaba glares at him but says nothing.

_________

@rightsidestrongside: am I the only one who just watched this interview?? lmao

@gaylinaupland: The Olympics haven’t even begun and Glinda is already giving us chaotic bisexual energy

@uswntfanatic: okay but who is that green woman facetiming Glinda???

@runclubdaze: @uswntfanatic that’s Elphaba Thropp, she’s a us sprinter and a friend of Uplands, I guess?

@arsenal_army: check out this nike interview with thropp from earlier - she’s clearly smitten. call it the #GlindaEffect

@sprintnation: not Thropp throwing shade at the 100m runners AND falling in love with Glinda Upland in the same interview?? she truly is one of us.

@woso99: I’ve never watched a single track meet but Elphaba Thropp is hot enough to make me an instant fan

@soccer_not_football: my google search history would suggest that I’m suddenly obsessed with Elphaba Thropp (I am)

_________

“You’re trending on Twitter,” Boq says as he sits down across from Elphaba at breakfast.

“Good morning to you, too.”

“Good morning. You’re trending on Twitter,” he repeats.

Elphaba sighs, “Do I want to know why?”

“Probably not,” Boq says plainly but tells her anyway. “Glinda’s army of supporters are all in love with you and lesbian sports Twitter is very powerful.”

Elphaba sets down her fork slowly. “That’s… not a sentence I ever thought I would hear you say.”

“That’s not a sentence I ever expected myself to say but I also didn’t expect you to go viral on the first day of the Olympics.” Boq begins eating and asks, mouth full, “So what’s the next move?”

Elphaba rolls her eyes. “Chew your damn food. Practice at 10 and then a stadium walk-through at 2 but I think you’re doing that with us, no?”

Boq finishes his bite, “No, I mean with Glinda. What’s your next move there?”

“Fuck if I know, Boq,” Elphaba says honestly and without animosity, smile threatening to crack open. “I’m just going to keep playing it by ear, I suppose.”

“Ooh, keep playing what by ear? Your thing with Glinda Upland?” Avaric had overheard as he passed by.

Elphaba throws her hands up, exasperated. “Come on, Thropp,” Avaric says, “Everyone’s talking about it now.” Boq raises an eyebrow and points up at Avaric with a face that says, told ya.

“How?!” Elphaba asks. “There’s nothing to talk about!”

“That’s not what Twitter is saying,” Avaric teases as he walks off.

Elphaba groans loudly and the two fall into a natural lull, finishing their breakfast and heading back out to the dorms.

Boq breaks the silence, “I’m not sure what Dillamond’s stance is but Nikidik doesn’t want us actually going to other events until ours are over.”

“Yeah, us too,” Elphaba confirms.

Boq continues, “Makes sense. But I think there’s rugby and swimming being broadcast at the house this afternoon if you wanted to watch a bit.”

“For sure,” Elphaba says. “But I’ll catch you at the walk-through of the Stade, right?”

Her friend nods, “Enjoy your very first Olympic practice!”

_________

After a long session of warm-ups, Elphaba finally feels like she can breathe when she hits the track for the first time. There’s an element of total freedom that comes with running, especially the shorter-distance sprints. And while Elphaba is notably no longer interested in running the 100 meters, the 200 is just as intense and all-consuming for her. The 200 is Elphaba’s event to lose this year, that seems to be the consensus, at least. She came in a close second during the World’s earlier in the year, missing gold by a fraction of a second to a Jamaican sprinter who was since injured and not eligible for the Olympics. Everything points toward Elphaba to take the gold medal - except Elphaba herself.

For now, she settled into the rhythm she knows so well: the pushing and pulling of muscles, the ache and strain of her lungs. Everything was in perfect harmony to create 22 seconds of raw speed. Give or take.

The 400 and hurdles are events that feel a bit out of left field for Elphaba. These require less brute force and more stamina training. Elphaba is good in these events, good enough to qualify for the Olympics, but no one is talking about her as a shoo-in for a podium place.

Not that Elphaba needs to be a sure bet; she just needs to be on the track and hopes her performance in the qualifying rounds will speak for itself.

For now, she trains. Spikes gripping the surface of the track, the sound of her breath as she moves, the sweat dripping into her eyes - it’s all part of the allure of running for Elphaba. It’s all a chance to fade away and let her body move in the way she’s been training for her entire life.

Coach Dillamond was yelling from the side and taking videos as she worked on making sure her jump out of the blocks was perfect.

“Good! Pull, pull, pull. Keep your shin parallel to the ground, good. Again!”

She goes again.

“Come here, watch,” Dillamond beckons her over to rewatch the video he just took. “I need a better push from the front foot. Your reaction time looks great so far but get a bit more pop out of the block next time.” Elphaba nods, wiping her brow with the hem of her shirt. “Good. Again.”

She goes again. And again. And again.

Finally, Dillamond calls it a day. “Good work, you two,” he says to Avaric and Elphaba as they walk to the training room. “No big changes; we’re just keeping things tight. You both have qualifiers tomorrow and you both look ready. Be back here at 2 for the walk-through and then take the afternoon to prepare mentally. Understand?” The two runners nod in tandem. “Good. See you soon.”

And then they’re left alone for treatment and ice baths.

_________

The walk-through of the stadium is pretty incredible, Elphaba thinks. It’s midafternoon and the sun is bearing down on thousands upon thousands of empty seats. The whole place is silent. She can only imagine how different it will look tomorrow, filled to the rafters, half a dozen different events happening concurrently, everyone’s Olympic dreams on stunning display.

They tour the grounds, the training center, the call room, the practice field. They show the athletes the giant bell they’ll get to ring if they win a gold medal and everyone pretends not to care even though the air thrums with anticipation.

With the walkabout complete, coaches say a final inspirational word to the athletes competing tomorrow before turning them loose back to the Village.

Elphaba heads towards the shuttle with everyone else but Dillamond yells after her.

“Elphaba,” he calls. “A moment.”

She follows her coach as they wind their way into the first level of stadium seats, mind buzzing with confusion as to what he could be pulling her aside for. Her practice was good. Her form was great. She was ready for tomorrow. So what the hell is this about, she wonders as they take a seat in the folding chairs.

“Let me first say,” Dillamond begins, looking at his runner, “that this has nothing to do with your sprinting. I’m not speaking to you as a coach but perhaps something more like a mentor.”

Elphaba lets out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding but doesn’t speak.

“I noticed you took my advice about social media somewhat seriously.” Elphaba nods and Dillamond continues, “and I’m sure you noticed - or were at least informed of - some chatter around your name?” It’s not a direct question but somehow, it feels like one.

Elphaba clears her throat, “Yeah, Boq told me this morning. Something was trending? I don’t even really know what that means, though.”

“Me neither,” Dillamond admits. “But I did look into it a bit. Seems that ‘interview’ you did with Miss Glinda was well received.” Elphaba huffs out a laugh and Dillamond smiles sadly at her. “A lot of people are talking about you now. Most of it is positive. Some of it is not.”

The realization of what Dillamond is saying washes over Elphaba slowly.

Her coach continues, voice low and filled with an emotion Elphaba can’t name. “Those of us who know you, who have known you a while, forget that the color of your skin is uncommon. We see you as Elphaba Thropp, the brooding, unflappable teammate, the quiet yet powerful presence in this sport.” He exhales slowly, “Those who are just now being introduced to you as a person and as an athlete are seeing Elphaba Thropp, the green girl, and they are hiding behind the curtain of the internet to say some hurtful things.”

Proud, stoic Elphaba responds as though there aren’t tears threatening to spill: “Nothing I haven’t heard before, I’m sure,” she says with a wet laugh.

“Perhaps,” Dillamond says. “But regardless, you shouldn’t have to hear it again. If you haven’t already, I would recommend not looking into these comments. Not now. Now, I would recommend focusing on yourself and on your races tomorrow. Call your new friend if you need a distraction, perhaps.” He smiles knowingly. “I’m sorry we’re having this conversation and I’m sorry there are still these people in the world. Your team and the US team support you a hundred percent, you know this.”

Elphaba looks up towards the sky, tongue running over her teeth, blinking rapidly, trying to keep the tears at bay. She’s heard this a thousand times, she just thought the world of her sport would be a safe haven enough against this type of thing. It’s hard to hear again.

“I know, I do. Thank you for telling me,” Elphaba says, “I promise I won’t let this distract me tomorrow.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about, Elphaba,” he sighs, standing and squeezing her shoulder. “I just wanted you to hear it from me, not them.”

“Thank you,” she repeats for lack of anything else to say.

“The press will likely pry - they’re shameless in that way. My advice to you: don’t entertain questions that aren’t directly about your running. You can’t be distracted if you don’t let them distract you.”

Elphaba responds on autopilot, “Sure. Makes sense.”

Dillamond nods. “Would you like a moment alone here? I can ask the shuttle to swing back around for you later.”

“I might actually. That - that would work.”

“Heard. You know where to find me.” And with that, Dillamond left Elphaba to her thoughts in the empty Stade de France.

_________

The Facetime call only rings a few times before a slightly rumpled version of Glinda Upland comes into focus on Elphaba’s screen. She’s outside, a headband of pink pre-wrap holding wisps of blonde hair back, her crested t-shirt rolled up at the sleeves, toned arms on display, wide grin threatening to split her face in two.

“Hi there,” Glinda says, slightly breathlessly. “Great timing. Just finished up practice and we’ve got a free hour or so before our next meeting. And I was just thinking about you. Kismet.”

Glinda squints at something in the distance, free hand shielding her eyes from the sun. Suddenly, she shouts - loudly, “No, no, I’m good. I’ll catch up with you guys later… I’m sure… yes!” She returns her gaze to her Elphaba. “Sorry, all yours now. Hi.”

“Hi,” Elphaba says, heart clenching slightly at her words. “I didn’t mean to intrude, sorry.”

Glinda waves her concern off, “Nonsense, they’re leaving, I have time. Check this out.” Glinda flips the camera and shows off perhaps one of the prettiest fields Elphaba has ever seen. It’s not a stadium; it looks like a practice field but the opposite view looks out directly over what must be the Mediterranean.

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah,” Glinda chuckles, turning the camera back around, “Never played anywhere like it.”

“My turn,” Elphaba says, showing Glinda the empty stadium, with its perfect track and pristine grass.

Glinda lets out a long, low whistle. “That is a pretty sight.”

“Indeed it is,” Elphaba confirms, voice rich and rumbling.

“Are you there alone?”

“Yep,” Elphaba says, popping the p with forced composure and flipping the camera around. “I was held back after practice.”

Glinda raises an eyebrow, “Ooh, someone in trouble?” She says in jest.

“Not yet, just had to chat with Coach,” she says, too nonchalant, pushing her sunglasses further up her nose. “Thought I’d soak up the last quiet moment before things got hectic tomorrow.”

“Smart girl,” Glinda says with a smirk. “You ready for tomorrow? It’s the 200 qualifiers, right?”

“Yeah, 200. And hurdles. I feel good - my body feels good, my head feels like it’s on right. I’m not making any predictions but I’m definitely ready. What about you guys? This must be - what? The quarterfinals?”

Glinda blinks at her, disbelieving. “No. Do you know how soccer works?”

“I know you can’t use your hands.”

“She’s an expert!” Glinda cheers, laughing. “Um, no. We have three group-stage matches and if we do well enough, then we can go onto the quarterfinals, after which it’s a win-or-go-home situation.”

Elphaba hums, “I see. That’s a lot of games.”

“It certainly feels like it. Especially in the group stages! It’s a match every three days - it’s exhausting. And Germany is a very physical team, so we’re all preparing for a hard-fought game tomorrow on pretty minimal rest.” Elphaba smiles lightly at Glinda’s tendency to ramble, she finds it endearing.

“What time do you play?” The sprinter asks.

“I believe kickoff is at 2. Why? You gonna try to watch some of it?” Glinda asks coyly.

Elphaba rolls her eyes, which she realizes Glinda can’t see under the sunglasses, “Perhaps. I’ve grown rather fond of soccer since I learned about what the group stage is.” Glinda gives her a look filled with faux annoyance, but Elphaba blows past it, “If all goes according to schedule tomorrow and nothing gets too delayed, I think I should be finishing up my events early afternoon so I’ll catch what I can of yours.”

Glinda somehow manages to smile even wider, “That’s good of you. So… what did your coach have to chat about?”

The question hangs in the air for a moment. Glinda speaks again, “Come on, take your sunnies off. I want to see your face.”

Elphaba pushes her glasses up onto her head, revealing dark eyes still red-rimmed from her conversation with Dillamond. Glinda immediately softens, genuine affection seeping into her voice. “Elphie,” she breathes quietly. “What’s up? What happened?”

The green girl scrunches her nose and looks somewhere off-camera. “They - uh… They–“ her voice is thick with emotion still. “Shit, sorry,” she clears her throat. “We don’t have to do this - I shouldn’t have brought it up. I’ll let you get back to your practice.”

Glinda’s voice is steady on the other side of the camera. “Elphaba. No. That’s not what this is,” she says, gesturing between the two of them.

“Uh. What exactly is this?” Elphaba asks haltingly.

Glinda thinks for a beat. “Honestly? I don’t actually know what it is.” The words might have been hurtful if said by anyone else, but Glinda’s sincerity somehow serves to comfort Elphaba. “But I do know that I want to keep flirting with you and I can’t do that if you’re sad. So spill. What’s going on?”

“Anyone ever tell you you’re very demanding?”

“All the time. Stop deflecting.”

Elphaba takes a slightly shaky breath, unsure of where to start. “How much are you on social media during comps like this?”

If Glinda is confused by the segue, she doesn’t show it. “Very little, actually. I just post enough to maintain engagement, but I don’t look at anything or see what people are saying about me and the team,” she says. “And obviously if I have a vested interest in a very cute runner, I will slide into her DMs.”

Elphaba laughs, thankful that Glinda is trying to bring levity to the conversation. “Right. Makes sense. Apparently, that weird interview we did got a bit of traction - probably because it was insane.” Elphaba thinks for a moment, trying to pick the right words. “People who follow sprinting know who I am at this point. But for people who just watch the Olympics, people who aren’t in the track world, that was the first time most of them had seen me.” Elphaba leans back slightly and gestures to herself, “Seen this.”

Elphaba goes on, Glinda listening carefully, expression filled with a tenderness that Elphaba doesn’t see because she can’t bring herself to look the blonde in the eyes for fear of breaking down again.

She explains what Coach Dillamond had said about her name trending, about people hiding behind usernames to spew the hateful things she thought she had left behind in her early career, about the press capitalizing on it.

“It just sucks,” Elphaba concludes with an empty laugh. “I thought I was done with that part of my life, but I guess the Olympics has a wider reach than I gave it credit for.”

Glinda takes a steadying breath. “It does suck,” she says honestly, not trying to sugarcoat anything. “It really sucks and I’m sorry you’re having to deal with this again. We should all just be able to focus on our sport and not have to deal with the noise.”

Elphaba finally looks at her again; they’re hundreds of miles away and virtual strangers, but she finds a strange sense of closeness to the blonde. “Thank you, I appreciate you listening to all that.”

“Of course,” Glinda says sincerely. “I know it’s not even remotely the same but I did feel some of that strangeness when I decided to come out.”

“It’s definitely the same,” Elphaba argues.

“Not at all,” Glinda says simply and without malice. “I got to control when and where and how I revealed that information. If I never wanted people to have those conversations about me, I could have stayed in the closet, could have stayed with Fiyero until I retired. I had a choice. You don’t get that choice when it comes to being perceived.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Elphaba concedes.

“But I do understand the feeling of the press and the internet as a whole talking about these intimate details of your life as though you’re not there, as though you’re not a part of it. And I’m especially sorry it’s happening to you in this moment.”

“Yeah. Thank you for understanding,” Elphaba says quietly. “And I’m sorry to dump all that on you, I’m not even sure why I called.”

“Well, I’m glad you did,” Glinda says. “I like this.”

“Me too,” the runner admits.

They chat for a while longer. Elphaba explains that she never really had to come out - she wasn’t a celebrity in that way. Glinda talks about Fiyero and some of the racism he experienced as a Black man on the predominantly white French National team. They both discuss that even though sports act as a refuge for athletes, there are still so many ways in which the sport doesn’t always love you back.

They move on to lighter things eventually, the conversation flowing easily. Eventually, Glinda checks the time.

“Ah shoot.”

“You’re late,” Elphaba supplies.

“Almost. Listen, I hate to do this because I’m actually really enjoying spending time with you, but I need to get back to the hotel for our video session.” Glinda makes a face that’s somehow both an apology and a grimace, and Elphaba can’t help but laugh.

“All good,” the sprinter assuages. “I have actually kept a shuttle waiting for like 25 minutes, so we should probably both get going.”

“I don’t know how much time I’ll have between pre-game and actual game tomorrow, but I’ll try to catch your races,” Glinda promises.

“You just focus on your thing, we can chat later.”

“Fine,” Glinda says somewhat petulantly. “But text me regardless, I want to know how it went!”

Elphaba gives a mock salute, “Aye aye, Captain. Good luck, and thanks for this,” she says about the conversation as a whole.

“Anytime,” Glinda says (and Elphaba has a feeling she means it). “Run fast tomorrow.”

She hangs up and Elphaba takes one last deep breath into the silence of the empty stadium.

Chapter Text

July 2024

Studs click against the concrete floor as Glinda jogs down the tunnel to catch up with the rest of her team, stars heavy on her chest. She’s been on this team since she was 19; she basically grew into an adult here, but this is the first time she’s worn the armband, the first time she’s been asked to lead the team. The weight of it isn’t insignificant.

She bursts into the locker room and all chatter stops, all eyes look to her, late from a quick sideline interview.

“Is this really how we’re going to play this game?” She asks, tone serious.

“Upland, be so fucking for real right now,” Pfannee groans at her. “We’re up by two goals, we’re chill.”

“You’re right - those were good goals and I’m happy to be up going into the second half. But we all know it should be way more than 2-0.” Glinda doesn’t like this, doesn’t like having to be the one leading these conversations. “If you think we get some kind of freebie and can take this game easy because we’re playing Zambia, you have got another thing coming. They have the two most expensive club players in the world - remember that.”

She takes a swig from a water bottle in her locker, taking off her sweaty jersey and tossing it into the bin.

“That’s a good soccer team out there. Are they better than us? No. But remember that this is a tournament decided by goal differential. Let’s go out there and bang a few more in - give us a solid leg up against Germany and Australia. Got it?”

There’s a general murmur of assent among the team. Glinda takes what she can get.

“Thank you. Milla, that was an absolute fucking dime you sent me and I will love you forever for it. Back line, you guys haven’t really been tested much yet but all the good runs have started from you. Keep that up. Subs, if we do end up with a wider lead, I assume Morrible will start putting fresh legs in so be ready to jump when she does.”

She plops down into the chair in front of her locker. “Everyone drink some water, stretch your hammies, but don’t celebrate until we hear that final whistle.”

The room buzzes back to life after the captain’s pep talk, a low rumble of voices as teammates begin redressing, replacing sweaty and grass-stained kits with fresh ones. Glinda gives herself one moment to close her eyes and sink into the chair. She knows how to lead on the pitch, how to control the tempo of the game, how to balance her team - that part comes naturally to her. It’s this part that she has to work on, being harsh and critical and honest with her teammates.

Her one self-indulgent moment of rest over, Glinda gets up and throws on a new jersey - identical to the first one, just clean - and begins a series of stretches targeting her right knee.

It has been nearly two years since Glinda tore her ACL during a training camp at Arsenal. More than a year of surgery and rehab later, she’s back to full fitness, but the athletic trainers do nothing except stress the importance of keeping her knee in perfect condition if she wants to play like herself. The scar is ugly and slices down the front of her kneecap, a stark and constant reminder of her journey to return to soccer. 

I wonder if runners deal with ACL tears as much as we do, Glinda muses to herself. She sharply cuts off her own train of thought, stop thinking about her and focus on the game, she chastises herself with a shake of the head.

She would be lying if she said she hadn’t had a very minor crush on one Elphaba Thropp since she saw her at the Olympic Trials last month. There was something very striking about her - not just her skin color. Glinda found herself intrigued by the way she held herself, the way she moved, and, obviously, the way she ran, qualifying for the games with what looked like relative ease.

Running into her this morning was just a bonus. Knowing that the soccer team would be playing in Nice and Marseille for the first two weeks, Glinda didn’t expect to meet any of the other athletes until later. But then the very tall and very solid Elphaba Thropp had nearly knocked her over in the airport and Glinda herself had a fangirl moment. The sprinter only endeared herself to Glinda that much more when it was clear that 1) she had no idea who the soccer player was and 2) Elphaba had never before been recognized in public and absolutely did not know how to handle it.

Glinda had to admit, what started off as a very minor crush was made somewhat more major after their brief interaction. There was just something about her that Glinda was drawn to. Certainly helps that she’s insanely hot, Glinda thinks.

An assistant coach bangs on the door, “Five minutes, let’s go!”

The team huddles together in the middle of the room, hands piled atop one another in the center of their circle. Glinda looks around at her teammates. “Let’s go score some goals,” is all she says. Then she points her chin at Sarima, not the only rookie on the team, but one of a few players making her Olympic debut today (and the only other one to have scored a goal so far).

Sarmia gets the hint and takes Glinda’s permission to lead the chant, “USA on three. One, two, three –”

“USA!” the team yells together before jogging back out onto the pitch.

_________

The second half is good. Not great, but good. They managed to put one more ball in the back of the net and then focused on keeping the defense shored up so Zambia couldn’t score.

Glinda got subbed out in the 75th minute to give some playing time to one of the newer girls on the squad, leaving the captain’s armband for Milla. Glinda watches the rest of the game from the sidelines, making mental notes about what they need to do differently going into their next match against Germany.

When everyone is changed and back in their hotel rooms for the evening, Glinda fishes out her phone and posts a few celebratory photos and videos - some that she took in the locker room after the win and some pre-made graphics that had already been posted by the official USWNT account. Just enough to give the people some kind of engagement.

It really had been a fun game - the crowd was fired up and mostly US fans, which always made for an exciting environment to play in.

Glinda sits against the headboard of her hotel room bed and makes a quick video thanking the fans for their attendance and thanking those watching from the States.

She finishes the video, “See you in a couple days - off to Marseille to play more football!” before posting it quickly to her story.

Before she closes out of the app, she sees that the sprinter she’s had such a hard time getting off her mind has not only followed her back but has posted a video from inside the Team USA house. There had to be 20 or more people sitting around and watching their game earlier. To say it felt surreal that all of these elite, Olympic-level athletes were tuning in to watch her team play would be an understatement.

Glinda decides to be a bit reckless.

She opens up a new thread and sends a message to Elphaba Thropp, anxiety spiking a touch as she hems and haws over how best to appear calm, cool, and collected.

@GUpland4: thanks for tuning in xx

Then she decides to go fully insane and reposts Elphaba’s video, adding her own caption: “Extra special thanks to my new pal @e_thropp for watching from the Team USA house - I suppose can forgive you for running me over in the airport #LFG”

It doesn’t scream ‘calm, cool, and collected,’ Glinda thinks, but posts it anyway. Mostly, she just wants a reason to chat with the sprinter again, as crazy as that may sound.

Glinda’s online success was mostly accidental. Soccer was the first and most important thing to Glinda. She got her first cap with the national team when she was 19 but had played consistently with the u-19 and u-17 national teams. She had spent a year in college before entering the NWSL draft the same year she was called up to the national team. Soccer was basically all she knew. It was nearly impossible to have a normal high school experience when she kept getting called up to the youth camps and international tournaments.

Not that she’s complaining; Glinda lives to play soccer and getting to do so from a very early age made her into the athlete she is now, but she does sometimes regret that most (if not all) of her friends are teammates first.

The Seattle Reign drafted her third overall in the 2018 NWSL draft. She liked Seattle, didn’t mind the rain as much as other people and the team was really good for a while—making it to the semi-finals for the two years that Glinda played with them. But the pull of playing in Europe was strong—the clubs seemed to be more integrated, and the level of soccer just looked better.

No one was too surprised when Glinda asked for a trade to Arsenal in the midst of the canceled 2020 NWSL season. And she’s fairly sure that her social media following came mostly from being associated with Fiyero, France’s golden boy. But most of her following remained after their breakup and she had learned how to be popular online over the course of their relationship.

Her phone chirps where she had left it to charge on the bedside table and her breath catches for a split second when she sees the notification.

@e_thropp: Anytime. Congrats on the win.

Of course she texts with perfect grammar, Glinda thinks, smiling to herself. Elphaba didn’t really seem like she was opening herself up to a conversation, but Glinda wasn’t about to back down so soon.

@GUpland4: felt nice to make a statement

@GUpland4: when’s ur first race?

She was genuinely curious. Track was a sport Glinda liked watching - hence how she had seen the green women at Trials - but she couldn’t remember which events Elphaba had qualified for.

@e_thropp: I’m sure. I think I’ve got qualifiers for 400 hurdles and 200 dash on Sunday.

And then Elphaba does something that Glinda absolutely did not expect: she asks if the USWNT will be at the opening ceremonies. And Glinda tries not to read into it, but it almost seems like Elphaba wants to see her again. Glinda breaks the news that soccer won’t be in the capital city for a week and change, and she’s more disappointed than ever now.

@e_thropp: You’re not even in Paris?

@GUpland4: no, seems there’s another olympic event occupying the stade de frace for the next couple weeks

@e_thropp: Oh, you mean me?

@e_thropp: Us*

@e_thropp: Track & Field*, I mean.

Glinda has to chuckle at Elphaba’s fumbling - there’s something entirely too charming about it, about her. She can’t help but lightly tease the runner.

@GUpland4: yeah, you, elphaba

@GUpland4: they sent soccer packing so you could run around for a while

As the conversation continues, Glinda finds herself struck by Elphaba’s quick wit and sense of humor, evident even through text. They chat about winning (or not winning) gold medals and Elphaba expresses interest in coming to see a match should the WNT make it to Paris.

When Glinda jokes about wanting to try on Elphaba’s impending gold medal, the sprinter cuts her off:

@e_thropp: Alright, now you’ve jumped the gun.

@e_thropp: Pun intended.

@GUpland4: good one, thropp, very clever

@GUpland4: i’m off to team dinner, i’ll hit you up later xx

@e_thropp: See you, Upland.

_________

“Milla, thank god. I need your help,” Glinda says, sliding into a chair next to her midfielder.

Milla startles, “What? What’s wrong?”

Glinda waves off her concern, “Nothing like that, sorry. Do you remember the girl I was talking to at the airport this morning?”

Her friend thinks hard, “Describe her.”

“Insanely tall, insanely hot, physically ran into me and it felt like I was hit by a truck. Swear to god. She must have been zero percent body fat.”

“That’s not helpful, I didn’t touch her so I can’t speak to her muscle mass. Keep describing her visually if you want me to remember,” Milla says.

“Ugh! Long, dark hair, face like an axe and, I repeat, insanely tall, insanely hot.”

Milla looks increasingly lost. “Was she… green?”

“Yes!” Glinda cheers, victorious. “Okay, so you did see her?”

“Yeah, you probably should have led with the green thing, though. What about her?” Milla asks.

Glinda slides her phone to her friend. “I’m flirting with her but I can’t tell if she’s flirting back.”

Milla takes a moment to read over the conversation. “Upland, she’s very obviously flirting back. I know you and Fiyero broke up a while ago but have you really been out of the game so long that you can’t tell?”

“I’m simply getting another opinion.”

“Okay well, my professional opinion is that this is insane. Who even is she?” Milla asks.

“Milla, keep up. Hot, tall, airport, chiseled body.”

Sarima takes this moment to join the conversation, “Who are we talking about? The green girl Upland was hitting on at the airport?”

Glinda and Milla respond identically but Glinda with much more enthusiasm: “Yes!”

“What about her?” Sarima asks.

“Upland slid into her DMs,” Milla explains in far fewer words than Glinda would have.

“Lemme see,” Sarima holds out her hand and gestures for Milla to pass her the phone.

Sarima peruses the messages and, still holding Glinda’s phone hostage, leans back in her chair, scanning the room. “Hey!” She shouts. “Pfannee! Shen! Get over here! Upland’s about to tell us about a girl she’s cyberflirting with and I only want to hear the story once.”

Glinda gives the rookie a saccharine smile. “You’re doing suicides tomorrow, Sarima. Just know that.”

The younger player just shrugs as half of the team gathers around Glinda’s phone. “Worth it.”

As everyone gets a chance to read through Elphaba and Glinda’s messages, Sarima turns back to the team captain. “Please just tell this story so we can all move on with our lives, G.”

“As you wish,” Glinda clears her throat theatrically. “So. Unlike you boring lot, I actually watch sports that are not soccer.”

Someone pipes up from the next table over, “I watch baseball!”

Another person yells, “That’s notoriously one of the most boring sports!”

Glinda waits until the attention is back on her. As much as the raucous group could occasionally annoy her, most of the time it did feel like a giant, dysfunctional sisterhood.

“Anyway,” Glinda continues. “Last month, I was watching the Trials for Track and Field. It’s one of the biggest draws in the Olympics, and the US has a great pool of athletes - I’m just trying to stay relevant,” she defends.

“So there’s this 200-meter sprinter and she’s fully, one hundred percent, emerald green. Different, right?” She doesn’t wait for confirmation. “So obviously I’m watching this green woman sprint and she is outlandishly fast. Like, I know they’re all fast, but she made it look easy. So naturally, I’m intrigued. I look her up and her online presence is super minimal, but turns out not only is she green but she’s insanely hot.”

Milla interrupts here, “That’s the fifth time Upland has called her ‘insanely hot’ in the last three minutes if anyone is counting.”

Glinda blows past her, “Then, this morning, she runs into me at the airport. Literally. She bumped directly into me, and let me just say, solid muscle. So I try to flirt with her at the airport, but this is clearly the first time she’s ever been recognized so it was a deer-in-the-headlights situation and I was working with limited time so I didn’t get very far.”

“So that’s why you slid into her DMs?” Sarima supplies.

“Exactly! See, someone has been paying attention.”

Milla puts a comforting hand over Glinda’s. “I say this with the utmost love and respect for you, but I really hope you will be significantly more chill when you talk to her in person.”

Glinda rolls her eyes. “I will be! I promise! I’m getting it all out now with you because, for one, Sarima made me do a dramatic retelling –“

“I didn’t ask for it to be dramatic - I asked for it to be short,” Sarima says, but her clarification falls on deaf ears.

“– and two, this is supposed to be a safe space for general insanity,” Glinda concludes.

“This is a safe space except for the fact that we reserve the right to make fun of you until the end of time,” Milla acquiesces.

“I… will take what I can get,” Glinda resigns.

Shenshen, who was still holding Glinda’s phone, speaks up from across the table, “Oh dip. She just posted a locker room pic, G.”

Glinda holds her hand out and her phone is passed along the table to her, “Alright everyone!” Glinda calls. “That’s show and tell over - now scatter!”

Pfannee whines. “You literally called us here to talk about your crush.”

“No,” Glinda clarifies, “Sarima called you all over and for that, she’s running laps tomorrow. Thank you all for your input on my hot sprinter. This discussion is now closed.” 

_________

In the privacy of the hotel elevator, Glinda does look at the aforementioned locker room picture that Elphaba had posted. She tries to justify the sudden dryness in her mouth but finds it hard to have thoughts that aren’t about the green girl.

The photo, snapped in front of a mirror in one of the many Olympic locker rooms, shows Elphaba in a navy blue t-shirt, with the letters “USA” emblazoned in red across the chest - the hem cropped with scissors and curling up at the bottom. A pair of grey sweats slung low across her hips leaves a thin swath of green skin exposed at her waist. She has a gym bag across her shoulder and headphones hanging around her neck - it shouldn’t be attractive but it is, undeniably.

The caption, which Glinda doesn’t even read for an embarrassingly long time, too busy looking at the runner herself, says, “First Olympic training in the books. Feeling good.”

So Glinda slides back in.

@GUpland4: and looking good xx

Simple, yet effective, she thinks to herself.

_________

The Thropp Dynasty Continues

With eldest sister Elphaba’s Track and Field qualification to this summer’s games, the Thropp family continues their Olympic legacy that began in the late 90s.

Frexspar Thropp won a gold medal in 1998 in Nagado for slalom skiing, followed by a silver in Salt Lake City in the same event in 2002, three years after the birth of his first child.

The child in question, Elphaba Thropp, came under much speculation for the peculiar color of her skin. When asked in interviews at the 2002 games about his daughter’s verdigris, the Thropp patriarch was visibly frustrated. He stated several times that he wasn’t sure why he had to “answer for his child” at the Olympics.

We’re still unsure why exactly Elphaba is the color she is but the bad luck didn’t stop there for the Thropp family. A year after his silver medal showing, Frexspar had another daughter. Only this time, there were complications at birth resulting in the death of his wife, Melena, and the below-the-waist paralyzing of his youngest daughter, Nessarose.

Despite the tragedies, both daughters followed in their father’s shadow, albeit to represent the United States in the Summer Olympics. In the 2020/2021 Tokyo Paralympic Games, Nessarose Thropp took home a bronze medal in para-archery during her Olympic debut at only 19 years old. She will try to defend her medal here in Paris during the Paralympics.

Her older sister, Elphaba, failed to qualify for the Tokyo Olympics but qualified for three different short-distance sprints in Paris. Thropp is a favorite for the 200-meter dash and a strong contender for the 400-meter and 400-meter hurdles.

_________

“What the hell kind of article is this?” Glinda asks herself as she lays awake late into the night, kept up by post-game jitters or time changes. But despite her protestations, every article Glinda can find on the sprinter is mostly about her skin color and/or her Olympic-inclined family members. There’s almost nothing about Elphaba herself.

Scrolling through her very limited social media footprint, Glinda finds even less. Nothing to suggest any interests outside of running, any friends outside of a few photos with an even-less-well-known long jumper. The two Instagram stories she’s posted since her arrival in Paris are the only indication that she uses her social media at all.

Glinda scrolls as far back as she can and there isn’t even a mention of her being gay. Have I totally misread? Glinda wonders for the first time with a hint of uncertainty.

There’s no way, Glinda thinks. She’s been flirting with me right back.

Glinda’s not proud of it but she does Google “elphaba thropp + gay” which yields absolutely nothing. Frustrated and more than a little worried she’s barking up the wrong tree, she Googles “glinda upland + gay” just to see if anything comes up. Dozens of articles, interviews, tweets, pull quotes of her both when she first came out a few years ago and since then.

Just when her anxiety threatens to get the best of her, her phone buzzes with a notification: @e_thropp responded to your story.

@e_thropp: Oh, so this is where all my new followers came from?

@e_thropp: I didn’t realize you had an army at your disposal.

Glinda breathes a sigh of relief, unsure when she began caring so much, and resumes her flirting.

@GUpland4: ur welcome

@GUpland4: i’m a benevolent ruler and use my powers for good - enjoy all ur new fans

Elphaba inquires about their next soccer match, and Glinda pokes fun at her for asking easily Google-able questions (even though the blonde has spent the last half hour Googling easily-askable questions). And then, perhaps because of the late hour or perhaps because she’s let her guard down slightly, Elphaba, who has seemed so careful with her words thus far, sends a message that Glinda can only imagine is a slip-up.

Glinda assumes she’s speaking about her long jumper friend when Elphaba writes:

@e_thropp: That’s exactly what my friend called you this morning, so I can only assume it’s true.

@e_thropp: Though it seems he has a fat crush on you as well - so not sure he can be trusted.

Something snags at Glinda’s chest when she reads it; “seems he has a fat crush on you as well.” As well. As well. She grins widely in the solitude of her empty hotel room, nearly giddy.

@GUpland4: “as well”????

There’s a brief pause in the conversation, the text bubble appearing and disappearing a few times as Elphaba clearly decides how to respond to Glinda calling out her error.

@e_thropp: … I plead the fifth.

@GUpland4: how interesting…

Glinda decides to take pity on the green woman and changes the subject.

@GUpland4: we’re playing germany on sunday afternoon, if u must know

@e_thropp: I see. I have a couple races that morning but maybe I can catch the end.

@e_thropp: How are you feeling about this one?

@GUpland4: feeling okay. germany is a pretty physical team so i just hope it doesn’t get chippy out there.

@e_thropp: Chippy?

@GUpland4: ya, i don’t want anyone getting recklessly hurt, don’t want any fights to break out. that kinda thing

@e_thropp: I didn’t realize that sort of thing happened in soccer.

@GUpland4: it can get surprisingly catty out there

@GUpland4: i guess ur events are only a few seconds long so not a lot of time to start shit with your opponents

@e_thropp: Definitely not. It’s a very solitary sport.

@e_thropp: And I’m not one for starting shit in general.

@GUpland4: elphaba thropp, ever the pacifist

@GUpland4: how boring!

@e_thropp: It’s not boring! It’s self-preservation.

Glinda feels sleep pulling heavy at her bones, the exhaustion of a combination travel and match day catching up with her.

@GUpland4: but ya know what isn’t self-preservation?

@GUpland4: staying up this late on a school night

@GUpland4: i’m sure we both have lots of running around to do tmrw

@e_thropp: I suppose you’re right.

@GUpland4: goodnight, elphaba xx

@e_thropp: Night, Glinda.

Glinda sets her alarm for the next morning and puts her phone away, marvling at how strangely natural it all seemed.

_________

The bus ride from Nice to Marseille was a quiet one, and everyone was struck by the pastoral beauty of the French countryside as they drove. The normally rowdy team was subdued today - some people took the opportunity for a short nap, some watched video from the last game, but mostly people put headphones in and checked out for a couple hours.

As they pull into their newest hotel, Coach Morrible stands up at the front of the bus.

“Alright, girls,” she announces. “Light practice today. I’ll give you an hour to get settled here but then meet back at the bus at 1. After that, we’ll do team dinner and project the Opening Ceremonies for whomever wants to watch.” The team nods and begins to gather their things as the bus grinds to a halt. “One hour!” Morrible yells as they disembark. “Don’t be late!”

Their training field is undoubtedly the most beautiful Glinda has ever played on - situated right above the harbor, it gave a spectacular view of the sea and the shoreline.

Today’s practice is easy enough, lots of 3v3 and 5v5 rounds - short, high-intensity drills. Those who played all or most of the 90 minutes against Zambia are given slightly more recovery time and it’s while they’re sitting around in the ice baths that someone finally asks.

“So,” Pfannee drawls. “How’s things going with greenie?”

Glinda blinks in surprise. “First of all, don’t fucking call her that, and secondly, going very well, thanks for asking,” she says, voice dripping with exaggerated sweetness that’s doing nothing to disguise her anger.

“What do you mean? She’s green - what else should I call her?” Pfannee asks.

“Maybe her name?” Glinda suggests, dumbfounded. “Maybe literally anything else?”

“Jeez,” Pfannee mutters. “Didn’t know you cared that much.”

Glinda turns so she’s facing the defender fully. “Even if I wasn’t actively interested in her, that would still be a shitty thing to call someone. Grow up.”

Glinda and Pfannee had risen to the National Team around the same time but as a forward, Glinda was scoring goals and making headlines in a way Pfannee wasn’t able to. Most can get over the relative inequality in celebrity status between forwards and defenders, but Pfannee took it personally and tended to see Glinda as a rival despite being teammates. It put a rift in their friendship that only grew when Glinda came out, Pfannee making her distaste for the now-captain clear.

Pfannee rolls her eyes and sloshes out of the ice bath, leaving Glinda and a few others behind to finish their recovery.

“I’d forgotten how insufferable she’s become,” Glinda muses as she watches Pfannee stalk into the training room.

“There’s an asshole on every team,” Sarmia says sagely.

Milla pretends to smack the younger girl. “You’ve been on one team for less than one year - the hell do you know?” she jokes.

“I know Pfannee’s an asshole,” Sarima responds.

“She really is,” Glinda confirms, hauling herself out of the ice, frigid water dripping down her legs and into the grass. “Come on, gals, we have an Opening Ceremonies to miss.”

_________

“I’m actually less bummed to be missing this now that I’m watching it unfold,” Milla says.

“Are the Opening Ceremony outfits always this ugly?” Sarima asks the girls who had done this before.

Glinda laughs, scrolling through her phone, not really paying attention to the ceremony, “They’re always ugly but never this ugly.”

Milla catches Sarima’s eye and gives her an over-the-top wink, “Huh. Your girl still looks cute, G.”

Glinda’s head snaps up to the TV comically fast, scanning for Elphaba but not seeing her, only to realize that Milla had been messing with her.

“That was… unkind,” Glinda sighs. “But, you know what? I bet she does.”

Half the team sits around, only partially watching the parade of boats go by on the screen, mostly discussing which nations had the best or worst outfits. Because it’s a US-based broadcast, they cut to interviews with American athletes fairly often, and Glinda is only slightly embarrassed to admit that she looks for a certain green-skinned runner in the background each time.

Eventually, she too stops paying attention, chatting with teammates and perusing social media instead. She notices a new story from Elphaba and is disappointed to find it’s just a photo of a few of the other runners - not Elphaba herself - on the US boat.

Glinda responds anyway.

@GUpland4: how’s opening ceremonies?

Elphaba’s reply is quick.

@e_thropp: Damp.

@e_thropp: But fun. Bummer you guys can’t be here.

Glinda looks up and catches Milla’s eye. “Should I do something insane right now?” Glinda asks.

“Um. No? What are you talking about?”

“Wrong answer,” Glinda responds, already typing. She looks up again, “I’m trying to get Elphaba to Facetime us so we can experience the vibes.”

“You’re trying to get her to Facetime you so you can experience her face,” Milla corrects.

Glinda waves her off, “Same thing.” Her phone buzzes on the table.

“Oh shit,” Milla says, coming around the table to peer over Glinda’s shoulder. “That was fast.”

“She’s fast, that’s kind of her whole shtick.” Glinda turns to the teammates who had gathered behind her and says sternly, “Behave yourselves,” before answering the call.

Of course, this is a group incapable of behaving themselves, so the moment Elphaba’s face comes into focus, half the team erupts into cheers. “She’s real!” “Upland isn’t fucking with us!” “That’s the sprinter!” “And she’s hot!”

Glinda feels her face growing warm from embarrassment but doesn’t move to stop them - too struck by the woman on her screen. Her long hair is down and strands are stuck to her forehead from the rain. Her features are sharp: high cheekbones, strong jaw, pointed chin. She’s strikingly beautiful, Glinda thinks.

“Hi,” Elphaba says.

Glinda looks at her a moment longer. “Hi,” she says finally. “Turn me around, show me the sights.”

Elphaba turns the phone around and the girls regroup behind her to look out over the Seine and it’s only a matter of time before they’re recognized by a group of swimmers and then, seemingly passed around to half a dozen different athletes, most of whom she knows from Tokyo. Just when Glinda starts to feel guilty for making Elphaba call her just to lose track of her, Elphaba appears back in front of the camera.

“There you are!” Glinda says eagerly. “I thought I’d lost you.”

Elphaba blushes a deeper green. “Can’t get rid of me that easily, Upland,” she says, eyes scanning the crowd. “Hold on, my friend wanted to say hi.” Eventually, Elphaba pulls a small man into the frame with her, her long arm slung across his shoulders in a way that suggests a deep familiarity. “Glinda, this is Boq, we went to school together.”

“Nice to meet you, Boq,” Glinda smiles. “What’s your event?”

“You too. Um, I jump. Long jump. I do the long jump,” he stutters.

Elphaba is once again focused on something in the distance. “Oh no,” she says. “They’re coming over here.” Boq slips out of the video quickly and Glinda is left wondering what exactly is going on. The sprinter seems engaged in a conversation with someone off-screen but Glinda can only hear Elphaba’s side of the conversation.

“Yeah… no, it’s the women’s soccer team… on video chat, correct… Upland is here, let me ask her.” Elphaba’s gaze flicks back down to the phone. “Uh, Glinda, they’re asking if we want to do an interview. Right now. With you on the phone.”

Glinda laughs and Elphaba smiles lazily at her, head quirked slightly to the side, “Yeah, let’s do it, Thropp.”

It’s not long before Glinda is being held up on Elphaba’s phone and staring into the dark Paris sky. Elphaba is holding the phone at a weird angle - Glinda can’t see the interviewer, she can barely see the camera, and she definitely can’t see the green girl, but she can hear both of them, which she supposes will have to be enough.

Glinda answers some generic questions about their game against Zambia yesterday and the one against Germany tomorrow. She laughs when the interviewer asks about how exactly she ended up on this FaceTime call and Glinda gives some canned response about being sad to miss out when the answer should really be, “I have a not-insignificant crush on this woman and wanted an excuse to give her my number.”

Finally, Elphaba is asked a question and Glinda is tired of not being able to see what’s going on. “Turn me!” she says, hoping the mic isn’t near the phone speakers.

There’s a hitch in Elphaba’s voice as she tilts the phone towards her, and - now that Glinda can see her - she notices a very slight twist to the corner of her mouth, as though trying hard not to smile. Glinda doesn’t have the same self-control, and she beams up at Elphaba as the green girl answers a question about whether or not she’s going to come to a USWNT game.

“Glinda, will you be able to watch any track events this year?”

Suddenly, Glinda is looking towards the camera again as Elphaba pivots her back. She regrets having to say that she won’t have the time to attend Elphaba’s events but adds, “you better believe I’ll be glued to my phone as the results come in!” Someone on her team yells out, “Sap!” while Sarima makes a whipping noise in the background and Glinda prays that this is almost over.

After a last round of pleasantries, the interview wraps up and Elphaba brings the phone in closer to her face. Her brow is furrowed and her eyes are serious. She runs a hand across her jaw and looks lost deep in thought.

The runner sighs. “This has been,” she said, voice deep and rich, “the most chaotic 15 minutes of my entire life.” A wide smile breaks out across her face and Glinda can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. Eventually, Boq makes a return appearance and Glinda remembers that they’re actually still at the Olympic Opening Ceremonies.

Glinda gracefully bows out, letting the runner soak in her first Olympics but not before shooting her shot.

“Maybe you could call me again later?” She asks Elphaba, hoping she’s coming off much more casual than she feels. She can practically feel the intake of breath from the girls around her who are still listening in.

Elphaba makes her wait and wonder for a moment before throwing a slow smile at her and drawling, “Yeah, maybe so.”

The team behind Glinda goes absolutely ballistic: “Oh dip!” “Thropp’s got game!”

Glinda blushes up to the tips of her ears as she pretends to be immune to the shouting of her teammates. “Night,” she signs off, letting Elphaba end the call.

The blonde lets her head fall dramatically onto the table as her friends tease her mercilessly. I am so royally fucked, Glinda thinks.

_________

Glinda manages to get through an entire practice the following day with only a few mocking comments from teammates. She finds herself checking her phone more frequently than she normally would - a small ripple of disappointment each time when Elphaba hasn’t reached out. But it’s not enough to distract her from practice, just enough to give her a tiny flicker of hope whenever she opens her notifications.

It isn’t until later in the afternoon that Glinda hears from the green girl, right as the team practice was wrapping up. Glinda briefly debates returning to the hotel with the rest of her team and calling Elphaba back later but decides against it. It’s a beautiful day, and sitting in the sun talking to Elphaba doesn’t sound like a bad way to kill time.

When the call connects, she’s instantly glad she chose to take it. It’s immediately apparent that something’s amiss - Glinda might not know Elphaba well but she knows what someone caught in crisis looks like. She doesn’t pry.

The conversation starts off slow, just catching up. Glinda shows Elphaba the view from the training field above the harbor and Elphaba shows her the perfectly empty Stade de France and Glinda lets herself believe - for just one moment - that she will be playing on that field in due time. They talk about their events and Glinda learns that Elphaba knows very little (if anything) about tournament soccer.

Eventually, they reach a lull and Glinda rips off the bandaid: “Come on, take your sunnies off. I want to see your face.”

It takes everything she has not to rush to this sad, emptier version of the woman she is coming to know. Elphaba’s eyes are wet with unshed tears; she looks up and away, trying to maintain composure. Glinda aches for her.

“Elphie,” she says, a nickname she didn’t even know she had slipping from Glinda’s lips. “What’s up? What happened?” she asks as gently as she can.

The sprinter tries to backpedal, tries to get out of the conversation but Glinda won’t let her. “That’s not what this is,” Glinda says, but she really means, you called me for a reason; let me be what you need.

Elphaba’s voice breaks in time with Glinda’s heart as she tells Glinda what her coach had just told her: that their Facetime interview had gone viral, that Elphaba’s name and face were all over the internet suddenly. Elphaba’s voice seems small when she says, “That was the first time most of them had seen me… Seen this.” She gestures to herself - her green skin, her cut form, her sharp face, everything that Glinda is so captivated by - as though it’s a bad thing, a fault.

Glinda lets Elphaba continue, “Dillamond said the press is going to hound me about it and I’m just so tired already. I know I’m new to the circuit but I’m not new to being green. People are been staring and pointing and asking since the moment I was born.” She sighs heavily, sadness replaced with frustration. “I guess I just thought more people would have known by now.” 

Glinda understands and she doesn’t. She tells Elphaba how hard it was for her, thrusting her personal life into the public eye when she came out. How exhausting it was to have strangers wade through bits and pieces of her life as though they knew her. She knows it’s not the same at all but wants to bring some comfort to Elphaba, that she isn’t the first and won’t be the last to deal with internet shitheads who think they know all.

“You know,” the sprinter says. “I never did that.”

“Did what?” Glinda asks.

“I never came out, so I can’t speak to what it’s like. Especially as someone with such celebrity.”

Glinda’s breath catches. She opens and closes her mouth a couple of times, trying to decide how to phrase her next question.

“Elphaba, dear, perhaps I’ve misread the situation,” Glinda finally says, “but I did think you liked women.”

The sprinter looks at her blankly for a moment before cackling loudly into the empty stadium, throwing her head back so far her sunglasses fall off behind her. All the while, Glinda blinks nervously.

When Elphaba composes herself she looks at Glinda through the screen, “My god, I’m so sorry. I phrased that all wrong - I’m laughing at myself, I promise.” She sits upright and sobers slightly, “No, I definitely like women. One woman in particular, at the moment.” Her smile curls into a smirk. “I meant that I never had to come out publicly because there wasn’t a ‘public’ that was interested in what I was doing.”

She continues, “The people who knew me knew I was gay, so I never felt like I had to declare anything or put it online or do interviews about it. I’ve never had that kind of celebrity status.”

Glinda exhales, heart rate only now beginning to slow, “Okay, thank god. Had me worried there for a second.”

“Nothing to worry about, Upland. I promise.”

Glinda smiles slowly and nearly says something embarrassing like, I can’t wait to see you in person or You are so astonishingly pretty or I have an insane crush on you - but is thankfully cut off by a text.

Milla: team meeting in 15 - stop falling in love and get your ass back to the hotel.

“Ah shoot,” Glinda says aloud.

“You’re late,” Elphaba guesses.

“Almost.” And with that, Glinda promises to call Elphaba back when she can but lets her know that the game schedule might make it difficult. She makes Elphaba promise to keep her updated about qualifying results.

“Good luck,” Elphaba says. “And thanks for this.”

Glinda assumes she means the conversation, the moment of vulnerability. “Anytime,” she promises. “Run fast tomorrow.”

_________

Elphaba does run fast.

Glinda is able to watch the first round of 200m races - Elphaba appearing in the second of four groups - on her phone while the team bus idles in the parking lot of the arena.

Milla, Sarmia, Shenshen, and even Pfannee are all gathered around, watching over her shoulder. The suspense is intentional - 20-odd seconds isn’t a lot of time to watch a sport so they take their time announcing each runner as she comes out of the tunnel. Their names flash up on a screen, superimposed upon their nation’s flag, before the runner steps out into the light of the stadium to thunderous applause.

Glinda doesn’t know which lane Elphaba is running in so she waits impatiently along with everyone else until she hears the broadcaster announce, first in French and then in English, “Dans la voie cinq, des États-Unis… In lane five, from the United States… Elphaba Thropp!”

And then, Elphaba emerges from behind the partition and onto the track.

“Holy shit.”

It’s not even Glinda who says it - it’s Milla. But Glinda can’t trust her words so she just nods tightly. Holy shit is right, Glinda thinks.

Clad in the same spandex shorts and a sports bra that all the other athletes are wearing, Elphaba rounds the corner with miles of emerald skin on display, every muscle in her body boldly defined.

There is one brief moment - less than a moment, even - in which the crowd is stunned silent by the green runner before resuming their applause. A collective half-gasp. It was almost imperceptible, but Glinda heard it and she’s sure Elphaba did as well, though she doesn’t show it.

Elphaba simply waves once, expression stoic, and makes her way to the starting blocks while the last runners are announced.

The camera does one final pan over the runners and Glinda swears she has never been so struck by someone’s beauty before. She wishes the shot would linger on the green girl even longer, wants to memorize her face, fierce and determined and focused.

“Damn,” Milla says. “Zero percent body fat is right, she’s ripped.”

“Watch it,” Glinda barks without any real bite, mostly because Milla’s right; Elphaba is all solid, well-defined muscle.

She watches Elphaba shake her long legs out and adjust the bib with her name on it.

“On your marks,” an automated voice rings out over the stadium, sending the crowd into a hush and the runners into their blocks.

The phone screen is small but the soccer players lean together to watch as the sprinters carefully place their hands behind the line, feet planted, heads down, kneeling. The air is heavy with tension.

“Set.”

In unison, the nine athletes raise into a crouch, not a flicker of movement among them. The silence is broken by a gunshot and Glinda only has eyes on Elphaba as the camera watches them explode out of the blocks and follows them around the track. It’s impossible to see who’s ahead as the runners round the curve of the track. It’s not until the straightaway that Glinda can see Elphaba barely edging out a lead, limbs moving comically fast as she schools her breathing, and then it’s over and Glinda doesn’t even realize she’s yelling.

“Oh my god! She won! What the fuck that was so fast!”

The other girls are hooting and cheering and clapping Glinda on the shoulder.

The broadcast cuts to a closeup of Elphaba, breathing hard and glancing up at the scoreboard with her name on the top. She smiles into the lens and gives a half-fist pump before bounding back off the track, camera trying in vain to follow her as she heads into the call room.

Glinda feels giddy - she knows that the top three of each heat move on to the semi final but to outright win the qualifier is a feat in and of itself.

“Text your girl, Upland. Then we’ve got our own winning to do,” Milla smiles as she grabs her bag and heads off the bus.

Glinda: you’re incredible

Glinda: i’d say good luck with the hurdles but i don’t actually think you’ll need it

Glinda: let me know how it goes xx

Glinda turns her phone off and tosses it into her bag, following the rest of her team into the stadium for warmups.

_________

“Alright, girls,” Glinda says. She’s in captain mode - focused, her voice serious, taking responsibility for her team. “Let’s go out there and play a hell of a football game. Communicate with each other, make your passes, hit your marks. We have to be perfect. Let’s fucking go.”

She looks around at the group of women in front of her, the people she plays alongside every day, the people she’s grown up with. She feels a swell of pride in her chest, not only getting to represent her country but getting to do so alongside these women.

“USA on three. One, two, three –“

“USA!”

_________

The game starts off poorly, at least by Glinda’s standards. She watches in horror from the attacking third of the field as a sloppy pass from Pfannee gets intercepted by the German striker, who absolutely hammers the ball into the back of the net within the opening 10 minutes.

But this is what Glinda was made for - coming up big in these high-pressure moments. “Pull it together,” she yells at her team while the Germans celebrate their early lead. “Let this be a wake-up call. We have got to do better starting immediately.”

And pull it together they do. Glinda can feel the energy shift, can feel that conceding that early goal didn’t frustrate the team but rather galvanized them. Suddenly, there are no more sloppy passes, no more wasted opportunities.

Glinda and Sarima work well together up top. And there’s something undeniably fun about playing with the rookie; she’s crafty and fast and somehow knows exactly where Glinda needs her to be. It only takes a few minutes in this new groove to answer. Glinda gets a ball up the right side from Milla - she takes her time with it, waiting to see how many US jerseys she can get in the box before making a cross. But suddenly there’s Sarima, shaking off her defender and cutting inside, so Glinda slides the ball to her and the keeper missteps and then Sarima slots it into the goal.

This is what Glinda loves about soccer, nothing is set in stone. You can be losing one second and winning the next, all that matters is seeing and taking every single opportunity.

She gives Sarima an ecstatic hug but then quickly shuts down any further celebration - the game is tied and they need to score again.

The tempo is frustrating, with Germany wanting to move slowly and maintain possession in the midfield while the US tries to dispossess and make fast breaks. It’s an exhausting way to play a game but as the first half winds down, Glinda finally gets her chance. There’s a high and wide cross from somewhere deep in midfield and Glinda is determined to get on the end of it, even if it means going toe-to-toe with the German goalkeeper who stands a full head taller than the forward.

Neither of them gets the ball. Glinda collides with the keeper hard and the ball rattles around in the penalty box. Glinda manages to scramble off the ground before the goalie and somehow nudges the ball just past her. It’s an exceptionally ugly goal but it’s a goal nonetheless.

Glinda pushes Sarima in front of the camera for the sideline interview this time and heads down into the tunnel with the rest of her team.

Having the lead breathes fresh life into the US - their halftime is jovial and Glinda doesn’t have to yell at anyone in the locker room. Even if it’s just a one-point lead, the momentum had shifted after their first goal and everyone felt in sync, ready to finish out the game.

Glinda gathers the team again before returning to the pitch. She never anticipated that being captain would include so much speech-making. “Let’s go out there and go that again. We all felt that shift after they scored on us - they lit a fire under our ass that should have been there from kickoff. We shouldn’t have to be at a disadvantage in order to perform well. Let’s pick up exactly where we left off, girls. Love you all dearly, go kick some ass.”

They do kick ass. Whatever locker room conversation the German team had did not help them. They looked significantly more disjointed and the US takes full advantage.

Glinda knocks in another goal midway through the second half, this one much prettier than the first. A beautiful left-footed curve just out of reach of the keeper in the upper corner of the net - a goal worth celebrating.

Shenshen gets her first goal of the tournament in the waning moments of the game, Germany already defeated and lacking the motivation to counterattack. They close out the match with four unanswered goals, setting them at the top of the group.

There’s dancing and singing and general tomfoolery on the bus back to the hotel. There’s truly nothing like it, Glinda thinks, winning an Olympic match with this team. Knowing they have a free pass to the quarterfinal is a significant weight lifted off them. They still have to play Australia in the group stage but regardless of the outcome, they know they’re through to the quarters.

At some point, Milla sidles up to Glinda, “You and your girl coming up big today. Must feel nice.”

Glinda rolls her eyes good-naturedly but pokes fun at her right back. “Milla, will you be making an appearance in our shared hotel room tonight or are you still pretending you’re not sleeping with our keeper?”

Milla slings her arm over Glinda’s shoulder. “For the last time, she’s good with her hands. And no, I will not - consider yourself roommate-free for the next few weeks.”

“What a blessing,” Glinda deadpans.

“You miss me, admit it.”

“Milla, I see you for like 15 hours every day. And I have a very hot, very virtual date tonight and I’m sick of you lot listening in all the time,” Glinda says as she heads for the elevator and an empty double room.

“Yeah, yeah,” Milla nods dismissively. “Tell her I said congrats.”

_________

Glinda turns on her phone to a slew of notifications: her parents, ecstatic about her goal, sending texts about the game and how proud they are; teammates tagging her in posts and stories; and a surprising number of texts from Elphaba, sent over the course of a few hours.

Elphaba: Thanks for watching, you definitely saw the better of the two races today.

Elphaba: I came in 4th for the hurdles… but that qualifies me for the repechage so now I’m running that one again tomorrow.

Elphaba: Just finishing up in the gym now, should be back and able to watch the second half of your game soon.

Elphaba: HOLY SHIT, GLINDA UPLAND

Elphaba: Two goals in one game? She’s unstoppable.

Elphaba: Wow, that was so fun to watch. I think I love soccer. You’re amazing.

A not-insignificant part of Glinda knows she’s in too deep, knows she shouldn’t be feeling this way for someone she’s just met. But a small part of her lets herself feel it all in sharp focus. The series of texts Elphaba sent while she was on the pitch shouldn’t tug at her so. But they do, and she lets them.

Glinda: u still around?

Glinda: call me if u get the chance - i want to hear ur voice xx

Elphaba: I’m around. Give me 10 min.

Nine minutes later, Glinda’s phone rings.

Elphaba is on the other end, dark hair swept up into a messy bun, glasses perched on her nose, smiling lazily up at the camera.

“Hi,” Glinda says. “I didn’t know you wore glasses.”

“I wear contacts - but I have no plans to leave my room for the rest of the evening, so I’ve dressed down. Hope that’s alright.”

“More than alright, the glasses are cute,” Glinda says, watching Elphaba flush a darker green at the compliment. “So… good day?” Glinda asks.

Elphaba huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, Upland. Good day all around. Tell me about your game?”

“Damn,” she says, breaking into a slow grin. “It was awesome. There was a moment when it just suddenly clicked and everyone was moving and thinking in sync. It was special. Does that make any sense?” Glinda asks, brow furrowed.

“Absolutely it does,” Elphaba confirms. “It was fun as hell to watch, too.”

“Speaking of fun as hell, you had my whole team rooting for you this morning,” Glinda confides. “You’re something else.”

Elphaba blushes again and laughs, deep and rumbling, “I’m just glad you guys saw the 200 and not the hurdles. That was not my prettiest moment,” she says with a half grimace.

“Well, you’re talking to the winner of the ugliest Olympic goal contest. It doesn’t have to be pretty; just has to work,” Glinda smirks. “What exactly is a repechage, though?”

Elphaba raises an eyebrow at the footballer. “That’s a perfectly Google-able question, Upland.”

Glinda blinks at her, “You’re insufferable, do you know that?”

“And yet here you are, asking me to call you,” Elphaba teases.

“Wow! She runs one Olympic race and thinks she’s hot stuff,” Glinda teases with an exaggerated eye-roll.

“Hey, I’ve run two Olympic races, thank you very much. I’m a seasoned professional,” Elphaba laughs and Glinda physically feels herself swooning. “Repechage is a new thing they’re doing this year, luckily. It’s basically a trial heat for anyone who lost in the first round to make it back into the semis. It’s a second chance to compete. Otherwise, I’d be out.”

“Luckily, indeed. Especially for those of us who want to watch you race again,” Glinda says.

“When are you playing in Paris?” Elphaba asks, changing the subject. “I want to see the magic in person.”

Glinda smiles warmly, struck by Elphaba’s genuine interest. “We’re already through to the quarterfinals - if we win that game, we’ll play the semis in Paris.”

Elphaba considers this for a moment. “That still seems a long time from now,” she says, voice laced with disappointment.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you wanted us to come to Paris sooner,” Glinda jokes, hoping the mockery will disguise any other feelings she may have.

“Oh I definitely do,” Elphaba admits, immune to Glinda’s taunting. “You think I can find a jersey somewhere in Paris?”

“A soccer jersey?”

“Yeah, yours specifically,” Elphaba says nonchalantly.

Glinda feels something tighten pleasantly in her chest. “You’re going to wear my jersey around?”

“Absolutely,” Elphaba grins. “If you have a letterman jacket, I’ll wear that too.”

“As long as you carry my books,” Glinda jokes back. “I’d give you a game-worn jersey but that would be very sweaty and also way too small for you.”

Elphaba laughs and falls back into her bed, the hand not holding her phone folds behind her head, biceps flexing unintentionally. She is so stupid attractive, Glinda thinks.

“Come on,” the green girl chuckles. “I can’t be that much taller than you.”

Glinda gives her an incredulous look through the phone, “I’m 5’7” and you’re what? 5’10”, 5’11”?”

“I’m 6 foot.”

“Hot damn,” Glinda says aloud, brain not able to catch up to her mouth fast enough. She shakes her head, trying to stop imagining the very tall, very good-looking runner. “Anyway. I don’t think my sweaty size-small is going to cut it for your incredibly broad-shouldered self.”

Glinda watches Elphaba’s brow furrow for half a second - a flicker of doubt crosses her face. “Are you… making fun of me?” she says in a tone that’s only partially still their playful banter.

“No, Elphaba,” Glinda assures, “I’m hitting on you.”

Elphaba blushes a deep emerald green. “Ah. Okay. Good. That’s good,” she mutters, flustered. “Because I - I have definitely been hitting on you, too.”

Glinda laughs genuinely and deeply at Elphaba’s supposed confession, “Yeah, Thropp, I know. I’m not here to be subtle, I’m here to flirt with you - get that into your head.”

“Loud and clear, Upland,” Elphaba smiles, gaze lingering on the blonde. “So… about that jersey?”

Glinda rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “So demanding!” She teases. “I’ll find something for you, I promise.”

They talk for a while longer, both still feeling the excitement from their respective wins, too amped up to go to sleep, finding comfort in one another. Occasionally, they lapse into short silences, content to just look at the other person on the screen. They talk about Glinda’s practice schedule tomorrow, about Elphaba’s upcoming 400m qualifier and hurdles repechage. They pointedly steer clear of any conversation about Elphaba in the press, instead looking for a bit of levity. 

Finally, Glinda yawns mid-sentence and declares it time for bed, promising to watch Elphaba’s races tomorrow after practice.

Elphaba smiles sleepily and signs off, “Goodnight, Upland. I’ll chat with you later, yeah?”

“For sure,” Glinda confirms. “Goodnight. Run fast tomorrow.”

Glinda hangs up the phone, her smile lingering. She pulls up a new text thread to the team’s equipment manager.

Glinda: hey greyling, i need a favor

Grayce: Hit me

Glinda: any chance u could get me a size large jersey?

Glinda: with my name and number?

Glinda: please? 

Grayce: That could be arranged.

Grayce: Upland, #4, size large. I’ll have it for you tomorrow.

Glinda: ur the best, i owe u!

Glinda is about to go to bed when a thought occurs to her and she grabs her phone again, sending Elphaba a message even though they have only just hung up.

Glinda: if u get a jersey, what will i get in return??

Elphaba: You’ll get a broad-shouldered green girl to wear your number around.

_________

The next morning before practice, Glinda folds a size large jersey into a package addressed to the Olympic Village post office with a handwritten note that reads:

E,

Run fast out there.

xx,

G.

Chapter Text

July 2024

A voice rings out over the practice field: “Women’s 400-meter hurdles to the call room, please. Women's 400-meter hurdles to the call room.”

Dillamond claps Elphaba on the shoulder, “Alright, that’s you. Remember what we discussed; don’t think too hard, just run,” her coach says. “You’ve been given a second chance - don’t waste it.”

Elphaba nods, serious. She wasn’t necessarily embarrassed by her hurdles qualifier, but she knows she can do better - has done better. The games having a repechage round this year saved her from a very early exit - she only has to do well in this round and then the quarterfinal later today.

“I’ll be watching this one from back here,” Dillamond says. “Come find me when you’re done and we can prep for the 400. Good luck, kid.”

“Be back soon,” Elphaba promises, tossing a water bottle and her headphones into her gym bag and heading for the call room.

The call room is the worst part of the race, Elphaba finds. All the runners are herded together to put their numbers and bibs on but what really happens is they all end up sitting around and waiting together in the same room for the race to begin. Tensions and anxieties always run incredibly high in the call room. It takes everything Elphaba has to shut out all that noise and focus on herself.

She pins the bib to her top and slaps her lane number stickers to her thighs. Then she’s head down, eyes closed, focusing on her breathing until they’re called to line up. Elphaba thinks about nothing except running, except counting her steps and her breaths between the hurdles. She can already hear the rhythm: one, two, three, clear; one, two, three, clear.

“Women’s 400 hurdle repechage, please line up,” the call room attendant says loudly. They take their places in the tunnel and wait for their names and nations to be announced.

There is a brief moment before her name is called where she worries about the crowd’s reaction - she felt the sting of their pause, their collective gasp the first time she took the track. She would be lying if she said she didn’t notice it.

Elphaba is running in lane two this time. The runner before her, a British girl Elphaba vaguely knows, is greeted with thunderous applause when her name is announced. The call room attendant holds Elphaba at the threshold of the tunnel until the cheering dies down.

“Dans la voie deux, des États-Unis… In lane two, from the United States, Elphaba Thropp.” The attendant lowers her hand and Elphaba turns the corner and emerges into the light of the stadium to another split second of silence. She can almost hear parents explaining to their children in a hushed whisper that, “Yes, I guess some people can be green.”

She pushes these thoughts to the side, gives one terse wave, and takes her place in lane two.

From there, muscle memory takes over: the sound of the gun, the push from the blocks. Eight strides to the first hurdle, then Elphaba calls upon her rhythm: one, two, three, clear the next hurdle; one, two, three, clear the one after that. Over and over, for 400 meters, until the only thing left is the finish line.

She crosses neck-and-neck with the Brit in lane one, but it doesn’t matter who won - she just had to be in the top three. They give each other a polite clap on the back as the runners catch their breath. Elphaba lets out a sigh of relief; she’s into the semifinals for two of her three events now. She just has to qualify for the 400 now.

_________

“I’m here with Elphaba Thropp, short-distance sprinter from the US. Elphaba, you just set a PR in the 400 and qualified for the next round. You’re now in either the quarter- or semi-finals for all three of your events, how does it feel?”

Elphaba always wonders why they don’t give the athletes even a moment to breathe before starting with the interviews. She’s sweaty and out of breath and trying to steady her voice.

“It feels good,” she huffs. “I should have known that qualifying for three events would mean a lot of running but I’m happy to be through to the semi’s and hopefully, I’ll get to run for a medal soon.”

“A lot of people are talking about you right now,” the interviewer says, and Elphaba steels herself for whatever the next part of her sentence is. “They’re wondering why you’re here at the Olympics.”

“Uh. Well, I qualified for the Olympics just like everyone else,” Elphaba answers, confusion written clearly on her face. She’s suddenly even more glad that this interview isn’t being broadcast on the screens in the stadium.

The interviewer rephrases the question, “No, I suppose they’re wondering why you’re at the Olympics instead of the Paralympics, given your physical abnormality.”

Elphaba swears she feels time slow to a crawl. She knows people have been talking about her but she never thought people would suggest she wasn’t fit to be an Olympian. She remembers her conversation with Dillamond, how he warned her not to entertain questions that weren’t about her running but she finds she can’t help herself as she opens her mouth to answer.

“I have nothing but the utmost respect for our Paralympic athletes - my sister medaled at the Tokyo Paralympics, in fact.” Elphaba is surprised by her own calmness as she continues, “Paralympians are just as much athletes as Olympians. But I would like to remind you that I qualified for the Olympics.  Not only did I qualify, but I’ve won three of my four opening races. I might be green, but I’m faster than almost everyone here.” Her anger finally bubbles to the fore, “Don’t fucking interview me again if this is how you plan to talk about athletes; it’s disrespectful.” She pushes the mic out of her face, setting her jaw as she walks purposefully back into the call room.

She shoulders past Dillamond and into the practice field, ignoring him as he calls her name, hands tightened into fists at her side. When her coach finally catches up to her, he grabs her shoulder and spins her around, eyes steely. “You have 30 minutes to get whatever this is out of your system before your next race. I suggest you calm down and put whatever you’re feeling aside until after you compete.”

Elphaba nods, knowing he’s right. “Can I have five minutes to lose my cool?” She asks.

Dillamond softens. “Yeah. Take five. I’m sorry, Elphaba.”

Elphaba looks at him, eyes intense. “I’ll be good in a second. I just need to make a couple phone calls,” she promises.

Dillamond nods and gestures for her to go ahead.

Elphaba rifles around in her bag for her phone and quickly puts it to her ear.

“Nessa,” she breathes, relief evident in her voice when her sister picks up the phone. “I don’t have very long to talk, I’m between races.”

“What’s going on, Fabala?”

“I know we’ve had this conversation before but I want to reiterate that you are just as much an athlete as I.” Elphaba’s voice is low and serious. “Actually, you’re the one with an Olympic medal, so perhaps you’ve got something I don’t.”

Her sister is sympathetic to Elphaba’s ranting. “What’s all this about?” she asks, concern lacing her voice.

“I just did an interview that got kind of weird. They tried to insinuate that being a Paralympian is somehow lesser, and I just want you to know that I don’t agree with that; you’re everything I am and then some.”

Nessarose cuts her sister off, “Elphaba, I know. We have both spent our entire lives trying to prove ourselves. You’re not just green, I’m not just paralyzed. We know better than they do. You don’t have to go nuclear in an interview for me to believe you.”

Elphaba sighs, her mind finally slowing down. “I know I don’t. But you matter to me, I don’t want anyone thinking less of you, even indirectly.”

“I love you,” Nessa says. “Now, forget about this and just run.”

“I will, I promise. Love you,” Elphaba says and hangs up.

She takes a deep breath and dials another number - phone ringing for several long seconds.

“Elphie?” Glinda answers.

“Hi. I just went insane in an interview and I’m calling you because I have like half an hour before my next race and somehow you make my brain normal,” Ephaba says quickly, sentences running together.

“Yeah, I know,” Glinda says.

“What do you mean ‘you know?’”

“Elphaba,” Glinda says carefully. “Babe, that interview was on live TV.”

“Oh fuck.”

Glinda gives a half-laugh. “I mean, I knew you were a little intense but I didn’t realize what an absolute firecracker you are.”

Elphaba asks the question she’s been wanting to ask since Glinda first started hitting her up: “Does it bother you?”

“What? The firecracker thing or the green thing?” Glinda asks plainly.

“Both. Either. I don’t know.”

“I wouldn’t be actively pursuing you if I thought the green thing was an issue. I’m attracted to you, I hope I’ve made that perfectly clear. Green and all.” Glinda’s honesty and directness are refreshing. “And I have come to enjoy your company too. I like that you care, I like that you’re intense and passionate.”

Glinda chuckles lightly but continues, “Did I expect you to go flying off the handle in a sideline interview? No, not really. Did the interviewer deserve that? Absolutely. You stood up for yourself and for your sister - there’s nothing more attractive than that.”

Elphaba is quiet for a moment, free hand pushing dark hair back from her face. She says very seriously and very quietly, as though the thought is just occurring to her for the first time, “I think I have a bit of a crush on you.”

Now Glinda lets out a full and genuine laugh; it’s rich and rolling and pulls at something in Elphaba’s chest. “Get with the program, Elphaba. I’ve been into you since you ran me over in the airport.” 

“You mean it?” Elphaba asks, still serious.

“When we’re both in Paris and this is all over and we’ve hopefully got a few medals between us, I really would like to take you out. On a date,” Glinda says, voice sure and steady. “Does that sound okay?”

Elphaba takes a steadying breath. “That sounds very okay.” They’re quiet a moment, listening to each other breathing on the other end of the phone before the sprinter breaks the calm. “I have to do the fucking hurdles again. In like 20 minutes.”

“I know, I have your schedule pulled up.”

“Sap,” Elphaba goads. “Could you say the thing?”

“Run fast, Elphie,” Glinda says, smile evident even in her voice.

“I will. Talk soon.”

Dillamond looks over when Elphaba tosses her phone back into her bag. “You good?” He asks.

“Very good. I’m going to go win this race.”

_________

@positivelyemerald: Endless props to @e_thropp for calling that interviewer out - she crossed a line with that question

@heart_thropp: nothing more baller than dropping an f-bomb in an interview and then immediately crushing your next race

@espnw: Sprinter Elphaba Tropp advocates for Paralympic athletes in curse-filled post-race interview.

@attackingthird: Glinda Upland pens statement defending Olympic sprinter Elphaba Thropp. Read more…

@gaylinaupland: ignoring the fact that Upland is 100% correct in this take - wtf is going on between these two???

@uswntfanatic: @gaylindaupland it’s called sportsmanship, look it up

@gaylindupland: @uswntfanatic it’s called being gay idiots in love, look it up

@sprintnation: I agree with what @e_thropp said but did she have to be so aggressive about it?

@woso99: @sprintnation yeah, she did. interviewer was so far out of line, thropp’s response was warranted.

_________

Glinda Upland speaks out in support of sprinter Elphaba Thropp

“As athletes, we love our sports more than anything. We give up having normal lives for the chance to play our sports. What they don’t tell you is that the sport doesn’t always love you back, not entirely.

“The Olympics are supposed to be a moment of unity - a coming together of the entire world to witness what people can do when they love their sport. It hurts to watch my friend tirelessly work and endlessly love her sport, only to have viewers and interviewers persecute her online and in the stadium. Ultimately, we are all human. We see what people say about us online, we carry that with us regardless of how good we are at separating the personal and the professional elements of our lives.

“Sports are a refuge from the rest of the world. We shouldn’t be harassing one of Track and Field’s rising stars because what? Her skin color is different from what we’re used to? How dare we make one of the best runners in the country (perhaps even the world) feel as though she is anything less than extraordinary. As athletes and as people who love sports, I urge all of us to take a moment to remember why we watch sports. Elphaba, like each and every athlete here, has given everything to represent her nation, her sport, at these games. It’s our job to make sure that wasn’t in vain.”

_________

When Elphaba woke up the next morning, it was to a package propped up against her door and what seemed like a thousand notifications. It took her several groggy minutes to unravel exactly why she had gone viral this time. She reads Glinda’s statement with a clenched jaw, tears threatening to spill over.

Elphaba: You didn’t have to do that.

Glinda: i know

Elphaba: I can fight my own battles, you know.

Glinda: i know

Glinda: but you shouldn’t have to

Glinda: not all of them, not by yourself

Glinda types for a while, text bubble appearing and disappearing on Elphaba’s phone. Finally, it disappears for good and Elphaba wonders for a moment if the conversation is over until a Facetime request flashes across her screen. Elphaba answers and Glinda is talking before the picture even comes into focus.

“I hope I didn’t overstep,” she says nervously. “I know you can fight your own battles. I mean, I watched you cut down a news anchor on live TV yesterday. I’m not trying to infantilize you or insert myself where I’m not wanted,” Elphaba tries to cut in, to say anything, but Glinda keeps rambling. “I just - I really like you and I think it’s utterly stupid that your Olympics are being overshadowed by a few people being assholes. For better or worse, people listen to what I have to say and I couldn’t live with myself if I simply didn’t say anything.”

Elphaba takes a deep breath. “May I speak?” She asks.

“Almost. I want to say that I know I should have run this by you, I just - it all happened so quickly. You called me and were upset and then everyone was talking about the interview and I just couldn’t keep my mouth shut. I’m sorry.”

Elphaba waits for her to continue but Glinda seems to have said her piece. Elphaba points to herself, eyebrow cocked, as if to ask, my turn? Glinda nods.

Elphaba’s stoic face melts into a smile, “I’m not mad at you, Glinda.” She watches the footballer visibly relax. “I couldn’t be mad at you, not for this.” Elphaba props her phone up on the small desk and takes another deep breath. “My whole life, I’ve been asked to ignore what people say about me, to rise above it. I guess I just got tired of being the bigger person. What you said was–“ she looks for the right words but can’t find them. “I’ve never had someone in my corner in this way, it’s new. I don’t even know how to begin to thank you,” Elphaba says honestly. 

“You don’t need to,” Glinda assures her. “Truly. I just want all of this to blow over and I want you to be able to run your races and then I want you to come to our games.”

Elphaba smiles, “That sounds nice, Upland.”

“Oh, hey! Speaking of Upland,” Glinda says brightly, “did you get the package I sent you?”

Elphaba leaves her phone propped up on the desk and opens the package that was sitting against her door, grinning deeply at the jersey she pulls out. “Oh this is very cool. How did you get it here so quickly?”

Glinda shrugs, “I know a girl. Try it on!”

“Right now?”

“Yes, right now! Strip!” Glinda demands.

Elphaba rolls her eyes but shucks off her t-shirt, tossing it onto her unmade bed, pointedly ignoring the sharp intake of breath from the other side of the phone. Glinda does not ignore her shirtless form. “Elphaba Thropp, are you… flexing right now?”

“Uh. No? This is just how I look.” The green girl quickly pulls the jersey over her head before Glinda can see the dark flush creeping up her chest.

“Damn,” Glinda drawls. “I thought you looked good without a shirt but you actually look better in my kit.”

Elphaba can’t help the blush any longer, “Are you always flirting?”

“With you? Yes.”

Elphaba looks at the fit of the jersey in the small mirror. “I love it,” she declares. “Never taking it off. I’ll race in it.” Glinda grins so widely and genuinely, Elphaba thinks offhandedly that she would do whatever it takes to make her smile like that.

“You ready for your match today?” the green girl asks, settling back down in front of the camera.

“So ready,” Glinda responds. “Actually, I’m probably not going to play the whole game but I’m not mad about it.”

“What? Why not?” Elphaba asks with genuine disappointment.

Glinda waves her off, “We’re already through to the quarters - this game matters, but it’s not do or die today. If some of the usual starters can be well rested going into the elimination games, we normally get subbed out early.”

“Wow,” Elphaba mocks, shaking her head sarcastically. “Here I am, wearing your jersey, and you won’t even play a full game. The audacity.”

“Bite me,” Glinda snarks back playfully, ignoring Elphaba’s perfectly arched eyebrow. “What time are your races?”

“I have another very fun three-race-day but the first one isn’t until noon.”

“Dammit,” Glinda curses. “My match starts at noon, I won’t be able to watch.”

“Ugh! If only we weren’t both such accomplished athletes!” Elphaba snarks.

“Anyone ever tell you how incredibly annoying you are?”

“Put it in your next press release, Upland. You’re stuck with me now.” Glinda beams at her from the phone and Elphaba can’t help but be utterly struck by her.

Glinda sighs, slightly lopsided smile gracing her face and Elphaba feels a pleasant twist in her gut.

_________

“So you’ve skipped sleeping together and gone straight to wearing each other’s clothes?” Boq asks. “Isn’t that like lesbian second base or something?”

Elphaba hasn’t even had time to sit down across from him. “Why do you know so much about lesbians all of a sudden?”

“Why do you have Glinda Upland’s jersey?” Boq fires back.

“Because we’ve skipped sleeping together and gone straight to wearing each other’s clothes,” Elphaba snarks. “You ready for today?”

Boq nods, jeers forgotten. “Mostly I’m just excited. I did so poorly in Tokyo that just being in the finals is huge. I feel like I’m in a really great place mentally, too.”

Elphaba feels a deep warmth for her friend, knowing how hard he’s had to work to get here. “I’m really proud of you, you know?” she says genuinely.

Boq waves her off, “No need to get sappy, Fae.”

“No, I mean it,” Elphaba insists. “I’m happy for you.”

“And I’m happy for you, too,” he says.

“Me? I haven’t done anything yet.”

Boq’s mouth hangs open. “You’re literally the talk of the town. Or the Village, I guess.” Elphaba shoots him a quizzical look. “That interview plus Glinda’s op-ed? You both just said what every one of us here is thinking.” Boq gestures broadly across the cafeteria but Elphaba understands he means the Olympics at large. “Even if you don’t win a single medal, you’ll still have made a statement here.”

“But I do still really want to win a medal,” Elphaba smirks. “I’ll do my best to hang out on the sidelines and watch your event in between mine.”

“What events do you have today?”

Elphaba sighs, “All three semis. Back to back to back.”

Boq gives a low whistle. “Damn. You’re busy.”

“And I’m not jealous of the decathletes at all. Three events is enough for me.”

“I’m good with one,” Boq laughs. “So, you think the missus can get us tickets to the WNT games after we finish?”

Elphaba furrows her brow. “The missus?”

“I mean, you’re wearing her name - how much more serious can it get?”

“I genuinely loathe you, Boq,” Elphaba says, grinning. “And yes, she probably can but you’re only invited if you’re going to be normal about it.”

Boq goes to respond but someone taps Elphaba’s shoulder before he can get a word out. “Hey, sorry to interrupt,” this stranger says. “I just wanted to say how much we all appreciate what you and Upland said earlier - and I’m sorry people are saying that shit about you.”

Elphaba is dumbstruck. “Yeah. No - I mean. Thank you.”

The woman smiles at her, “Thank you and good luck today - both of you.” She looks to Boq as well. “We’ll all be watching your events.” She gestures over to a group of women seated together a few tables away.

“That means a lot, thanks,” Elphaba replies and the woman returns to her table.

Boq stares at Elphaba for a moment. “Please tell me you know who that was,” he begs. Elphaba grimaces out an apologetic face. “My god, Fae! That’s the rugby team! America’s second-most sweethearts!”

“Ohhh,” Elphaba realizes. “We watched their bronze medal match, right?”

“You might be simultaneously the most popular and the most oblivious person at the Olympics.” 

_________

The green woman takes to social media again, posting a couple stories.

A slightly unflattering photo of Boq in an ice bath she had taken in the training room yesterday with the caption: “Make sure you catch my best friend in the whole world @jumper_boq compete for a medal today at 1:30!”

A short time-lapse video of her doing a set of squats in the weight room - which was very well received, if the hearts and fire emojis were any indication. (Glinda even responded with a very concise, “oh damn,” making Elphaba blush several shades deeper).

On her way into the training facility, a photographer snaps a photo of her: headphones on, bag over her shoulder, Glinda’s jersey clearly visible underneath. When she sees the photographer, she plasters on a wide grin, throwing up a sloppy two-finger salute. In the back of her mind, she wonders how long until that image shows up on the internet.

The answer is: only about 20 minutes.

People are tagging her and commenting and liking the photo faster than she can keep up with. Elphaba decides to add fuel to the fire and posts the image to her page with the caption, “Formal petition to the US to change the colors of the flag to something that goes better with green #LFG”

@an_ok_time: is she wearing Glinda Upland’s JERSEY

@rightsidestrongside: soft launch of the century

@gaylindaupland: the power couple america didn’t know it needed

@soccer_not_football: gays stay winning

@heart_thropp: the only flag I stand for is the one @e_thropp redesigns for america

Elphaba turns off her notifications again as comments and speculations come flying in - she knows she brought it upon herself but she didn’t fully realize how insane it was to be popular-by-association-to-Glinda-Upland.

It isn’t until Glinda herself comments on Elphaba’s post that things really get out of hand.

@GUpland4: green + red = the hottest christmas tree i’ve ever seen

Instead of responding publicly, Elphaba sends Glinda a text.

Elphaba: You’re going to get me in trouble with those kinds of comments.

Glinda: ur gonna get me in trouble with those kinds of pictures!

Glinda: now i have to spend the day staring at my phone instead of playing football

Elphaba: Is it “football” or “soccer?”

Glinda: i can say both bc i’m american but i live in england now

Glinda: free pass

Glinda: but don’t try to change the subject, i’m mad at you

Elphaba: What on earth did I do??

Glinda: u can’t be the most attractive person wearing my jersey!

Glinda: that’s supposed to be my job

Elphaba: And you do an excellent job of it, if I do say so myself.

Glinda: are u… flirting with me?

Elphaba: Yes, how am I doing?

Glinda: b+

Glinda: i’d give you an a, but i’m pretty sure you’re flirting with me when you should be getting ready for an olympic race

Elphaba: I plead the fifth yet again.

Glinda: run fast, babe xx

Elphaba: Score goals, G.

Elphaba turns her phone off and begins her series of pre-race stretches, using that time to get into the right headspace. Her three races today are all semi-finals; she just needs to be in the top three of her heat to advance to the final. She doesn’t let herself think about the finals, though, doesn’t let herself think about what it would mean to her to win. Instead, she closes her eyes, puts her head down, and focuses on the next race.

By the time she finishes her stretching and warm-ups, she’s replaced the now-famous Upland jersey with her own running top, her athletic shorts replaced by spandex, trainers replaced by spikes.

In the call room, Elphaba is lined up next to an Italian sprinter infamous for being a poor sport. She’s showing her true colors as she walks past Elphaba and sneers quietly enough that few others hear, “Damn, green girl thinks she’s all that ‘cause she’s fucking Glinda Upland.”

Elphaba merely sets her jaw and stares unfocused beyond the runner. This is some people’s strategy, she reminds herself. She’s just trying to get under your skin, don’t let her. Elphaba kept her breathing even and deliberate, determined not to let the other runner’s slimy tactics get to her. Best thing you can do is go out there and kick her ass, Elphaba thinks.

“Women’s 200-meter dash, please line up.”

The nine runners’ names are called too slowly, the wait at the blocks feels interminable, Elphaba is eager to hear the gun, she just wants to do what she was born to do - run fast.

“Take your marks.”

From here on out, it’s muscle memory. Elphaba aligns her fingers with the white lines on the track, cocks her feet into the blocks, feels every muscle poised and ready.

“Set.”

She’s up in the blocks.

The gunshot rings out and everything is silent for the next 21 and a half seconds. All she is is a collection of muscles and sinew and tissue moving together as hard as she possibly can. It’s the only time Elphaha’s brain is truly quiet, truly at peace. At the end of the straightaway, the green runner looks around her, no one even close to catching her, and she throws on the brakes before she even crosses the line.

She’s quickly ushered into another sideline interview - though with a different anchor than yesterday. This man, clean-shaven and enthusiastic, introduces himself, “Elphaba - Tibbett from NBC, we were hoping we could have a quick word with you?”

Elphaba is still bent at the waist, hands on her knees as she catches her breath. She straightens. “Yeah, of course,” she breathes raggedly.

“Great,” the interviewer says. “Congrats on the decisive win. Was that a personal record for you?”

“Um,” Elphaba looks around for the scoreboard with her time, “Not going to lie, Tibbett, I have no idea what my time was.”

Tibbett smiles at her, “Not to worry, our team in the studio tells me it’s a season best for you. How do you feel knowing you’ll be running for an Olympic medal in two days?”

Elphaba laughs, “It feels pretty damn good. I felt great during that race and would love to be able to repeat it. Just knowing I have a chance to be on a podium is such an honor.”

“Earlier, you were representing your friends on the US Women’s soccer team.” Elphaba nods, not sure the interviewer had actually asked a question. “We know they’re already through to the quarterfinals and are playing Australia right now.” He still hasn’t asked a question but Elphaba feels prompted to say something.

“That’s right,” she says. “I’m looking forward to hopefully seeing them play in Paris for their semi-final match, but I’ve been warned about counting my chickens, so to speak.”

“Well, luckily for your friends on the US team, we got word that Glinda Upland just scored against Australia, putting the US ahead by a goal.”

Elphaba has no idea what this interview is about, but she’s so happy to have won her race and thrilled to hear about Glinda’s success on the pitch. She smiles deeply and authentically for the first time since the interview began. “Atta girl!” she hollers, briefly forgetting her audience, too excited for Glinda. “I mean—that’s great news!” She tries to redirect.

Tibbett smiles warmly at her. “Alright, I know you have another race to prepare for so we won’t keep you. Thanks for chatting with us, Elphaba.”

“Of course,” she says, already heading for the exit but not before flashing a bright smile and four upheld fingers to the camera. “Let’s go, number four!” she shouts on her way out of the booth, excitement palpable.

_________

The 400 is no different. Something about the last few days has lit a fire in Elphaba and she feels it - she’s running better, she’s more focused, more determined than ever. It’s proof to her that running is so much more about being mentally ready than people give it credit for.

So she kills the 400 - first in her heat again - and knows she’ll be running in the final.

Elphaba takes second place in the hurdles semi-final later that afternoon. It’s a fully exhausting day, physically and mentally. But she stays out on the track, hovering on the sidelines as Boq makes his last of three jumps. Boq is the last to jump, he’s in fourth place currently. All he needs is a few extra inches to edge out the current bronze medalist. Elphaba watches with bated breath as he makes his final run. She doesn’t know much about the long jump but his form looks great. She watches him take off, a spray of sand as he lands on his heels in the pit.

There are several long moments of conferring as the judges mark his landing spot, and then Elphaba is leaping up from the bench and rushing towards her friend.

Boq just yells nonsense as he jumps into Elphaba’s arms, ecstatic, an Olympic silver medal secured.

“You did it!” Elphaba screams over the roar of the crowd before finally putting Boq back down. “You fucking did it! I knew you could!”

His medal ceremony is a haze of emotion for Elphaba, pride welling up for her pseudo-brother. She takes photos of Boq with his silver medal and sends them to her sister. Elphaba knows she has to leave the track and head for the recovery room soon so she wraps Boq in another long hug, “I am so unbelievably proud of you,” she says honestly.

He beams up at her taller figure. “After you win your races, we are going to get so drunk on champagne.”

“It’s a deal,” she laughs, rich and full. “I love you, Boq. Now go ask my sister on a date!” Elphaba cackles as she walks away from her still-celebrating friend.

Once in the ice bath, Elphaba posts a photo she took of Boq receiving his medal. “Couldn’t be happier for you,” she writes.

Nessa comments immediately, “Congratualtions, @jumper_boq. So well deserved!” Elphaba rolls her eyes, praying that the two of them figure it out eventually. It feels like they’ve been dancing around their feeling for each other for a long time, basically since Elphaba introduced the two of them after she and Boq had become friends in college.

Elphaba checks the score of Glinda’s match before shooting her a quick text.

Elphaba: Hi. I heard you simply cannot stop scoring goals.

Glinda responds several minutes later as Elphaba is finishing up her soak.

Glinda: if it isn’t elphaba thropp, winner of three semi-final races.

Elphaba: I only won two of them. 

Glinda: buzzkill

Glinda: when are the finals?

Elphaba: 400 tomorrow morning, 200 and hurdles the day after.

Elphaba: And then I’m going to take a very long nap.

Glinda: well deserved.

Glinda: and tell ur friend boq the wnt says congrats on the medal

The message of congratulations is accompanied by a selfie from the team bus, Glinda in the foreground and the rest of the team waving and cheering behind her.

Glinda: we were all watching

Elphaba replies without thinking.

Elphaba: You’re so pretty

Elphaba: Oh shit. Sorry. Um…

Elphaba: I forgot I’m supposed to be playing it cool. Oops?

Luckily, Glinda takes it in stride.

Glinda: i think we moved past ‘playing it cool’ when u wrapped ur arms around my waist rom-com style in the airport

Elphaba: Ugh, don’t remind me, Upland. Not my finest moment.

Glinda: i mean… kinda worked out though.

Elphaba: I suppose it did.

The green woman is sporting a lazy smile as she walks back home through the Village.

Glinda: hey i have to run to team dinner

Glinda: will u be free if i call later tonight?

Elphaba: Absolutely. Congrats on the win, Upland.

Elphaba: Excited to see you soon-ish.

_________

Elphaba’s 400-meter final is nail-biting.

She knows she didn’t win - she had watched a Nigerian runner she barely knows eek out ahead during the final straightaway. Elphaba crossed the line absolutely neck-and-neck with the British girl she had raced next to in the hurdles repechage. While the Nigerian runner celebrates her obvious victory, the rest of the stadium sits with bated breath, staring up at the scoreboard that simply reads, “Photo Finish - under review.”

Elphaba is fairly certain she got a medal - it was the three of them at the front of the pack - now it seems they’re debating who gets silver and who gets bronze.

The wait is agonizing and seems exceptionally long. Elphaba goes to congratulate the Nigerian who has just done a victory lap, flag clenched tightly in her hands. She gives her a hug and pats her on the back, genuinely happy for her competitor.

The scoreboard flashes back to life. Elphaba scans the results for her name.

3.) E. Thropp

Suddenly, people are clapping her on the shoulder, wrapping her in hugs, shouting congratulations in her ear. She finds Dillamond and Boq in the stands, a few rows back from the front, and scrambles through the crowd to them.

Her coach holds her by the shoulders and says, voice filled with pride, “I knew you had it in you, Elphaba. Congratulations.”

Elphaba feels a swell of emotion at the genuine kindness Dillamond shows her. “It was all you, all you, Dillamond. Thank you for everything.” She hugs him hard, only letting go when Boq throws his arms around her shoulders.

He’s still wearing his silver medal from yesterday, and Elphaba has a feeling he won’t be taking it off anytime soon. But now she understands.

She’s called back down from the stands and, as it turns out, there’s more bureaucracy than she would have expected to winning an Olympic medal. The three medalists take a photo together next to the scoreboard with their times listed, flags draped across their shoulders. Then it’s back to the locker room to change into their podium outfits. 

The medal ceremony itself is brief. The flags of all three nations are displayed. Elphaba dips her head and a bronze medal is placed around her neck, heavier than she would have expected. She feels the weight of the last week, the intensity of it. She feels a certain type of smug pride at getting to stand here for a country that hardly knows her and sometimes hates her and receives a medal for it.

They don’t have time to play the anthems of all three countries so she bows her head out of respect for her competitor and listens to the Nigerian national anthem for the first time. They pose for a few more pictures and then it’s over - she’s an Olympic medalist.

Elphaba is pulled aside for another interview.

“Elphaba,” he starts. “We spoke to you yesterday and you expressed how excited you were to compete for a medal. How does it feel to have one now?”

She can’t help the grin that breaks out across her face. “It feels utterly surreal. I never thought I would get to this place and it was incredibly special to be standing on that podium.” She fiddles with the medal as she speaks, fingers brushing over the Olympic rings.

“You still have two more races to run, is that correct?”

“Yes. Two more. And honestly, now that I’ve had a taste of this,” she gestures to the medal around her neck, “I’m really eager to go at it again.” The interviewer laughs. “The 200 is my race, I love running it, I feel it’s my best shot at these games. My sister is going to be in attendance tomorrow so it’s going to be special. I’m ready.”

“Elphaba, we won’t keep you any longer. Congratulations on this incredible achievement and good luck tomorrow.” She smiles warmly at the camera. “Crope, back to you in the studio - thanks for joining us.”

_________

@Milla_12 mentioned you in a story

“Who?” Elphaba says aloud to herself, checking her phone as she steps out of the shower, towel wrapped around her waist.

She opens the notification and it’s a slightly blurry video of Glinda in a hotel room, pacing back and forth, teammates lounging on the bed and floor behind her. In the video, Elphaba can barely make out that they’re watching the results from her race come in. When the broadcast cuts to a close-up of Elphaba and announces her as the bronze medalist, the entire room erupts into cheers. Glinda stands in front of the TV, fists pumping in the air, yelling one long syllable until the video cuts off.

The caption reads, “@GUpland4 going absolutely feral for @e_thropp’s bronze medal win”

Elphaba rolls her eyes affectionately at the video but likes it anyway.

She slips on a t-shirt and pulls up a Facetime call to her sister, who answers immediately.

“My goodness, Fabala. That was way too stressful - don’t ever do that again!” Nessarose chirps when the call connects.

Elphaba laughs. “Are you in Paris already?” She asks.

“No, my flights got all messed up, I have a layover in London right now so I won’t get to Paris until late tonight.”

The Paralympics don’t start until a couple weeks after the end of the Olympics but the Thropp sisters appealed to the US athletic body to allow Nessrose to arrive early to watch Elphaba’s finals and to allow Elphaba to stay in the Village until Nessa’s events are finished.

“Sorry,” Elphaba says, wrinkling her nose at the flight situation. “But don’t stress about it; my events don’t start until 11 tomorrow so you have plenty of time. Boq will make sure you guys get to the stadium, then we’ll hang out when I finish.”

Elphaba’s phone buzzes where it sits propped on her desk.

“Oh shoot,” she says, knowing Nessa doesn’t like it when she curses. “I’m getting another call.”

Nessarose smiles knowingly, “Glinda Upland, perhaps?”

“Okay, how do you know about that?” Elphaba asks, eyes narrowed.

“Boq is keeping me up to date. Also, it’s all over the internet.”

“Whatever,” Elphaba mumbles. “I have to take this - call me if there’s an issue, but otherwise, I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”

Nessa nods. “Congrats again, Fabala. Good luck tomorrow. Love you.”

“Love you, too. Bye, Nessa.”

By the time she hangs up with Nessa, Glinda’s call had gone to voicemail but she returns it quickly, Glinda picking up on the second ring.

“Hi, sorry I was on the other line with my sister,” she explains.

“And here I was thinking you’d won your medal and forgotten about me,” Glinda smirks. “Congrats on that, by the way.”

Elphaba feels herself flush; something about the praise feels different coming from Glinda. “Thank you,” she says quietly, the corner of her mouth quirking up into a slow smile.

“That was a very stressful few moments.”

Elphaba laughs. “You’re telling me! It was awful and then it was incredible.”

Glinda looks into the camera, smoldering, “That tracks, you’re pretty damn incredible.” Elphaba melts. “I’m really happy for you,” Glinda says.

“Thank you,” Elphaba says again in a near whisper, reverential. “I know we don’t actually, really know each other, but that means a lot. Genuinely.”

“We will,” Glinda says simply. “Know each other, that is.”

“Biblically, you mean?”

Glinda shakes her head at the green woman, “I cannot believe I’m attracted to such a total nerd.”

“Whoa!” Elphaba laughs. “Who said I was nerdy?”

“You just made a bible sex joke?!”

“Aha! But you understood it,” Elphaba counters. “That makes two of us.”

Glinda glares playfully from the other side of the phone and Elphaba can’t help but think, for the hundredth time, how it couldn’t possibly be this easy. Glinda was right, it was rom-com-level stuff: bumping into someone at the airport and then developing feelings for them? It’s as though it was scripted.

“Whatever,” the blonde says, breaking Elphaba from her musings. “You excited to run tomorrow?”

Elphaba refocuses. “I am, actually. I don’t think the medal was a confidence booster, so to speak, but I do feel like a weight has been lifted off of me.” Glinda furrows her brow so Elphaba explains further. “I just mean that I already won a medal - there’s no way I’m going home empty-handed. Even if it’s just one, just bronze, it still means I didn’t disappoint myself.”

“Was disappointment an option?” Glinda asks, curious.

“Yeah, I felt like a disappointment when I didn’t qualify last time, for sure.” Elphaba thinks for a moment. “I mean, I’m 25 already. Sprinters don’t have long professional lifespans, this could be my only Olympics.”

“I hope it’s not,” Glinda says sincerely.

“Me too,” says Elphaba. “But enough about that. Are you ready for your match tomorrow?”

Glinda nods. “I think so. Unlike you, this is where the pressure really sets in for us. It’s win or go home.”

Elphaba sighs knowingly. “That’s intense. No repechage for soccer, I guess.”

“No, Elphie,” Glinda laughs, “no repechage for soccer. But if we win tomorrow, we’ll be coming to Paris.” There’s a glint in her eye that makes Elphaba’s chest ache.

“I’m looking forward to it,” Elphaba says, grin verging on cocky.

The conversation continues slowly. Elphaba pulls her hair into a long braid, and Glinda brings her phone into the bathroom and removes her makeup while they chat. It’s easy and nearly domestic despite the fact that they haven’t actually spent any time together.

“Don’t look,” Glinda says abruptly.

“What?”

“Don’t look, I need to change my shirt.”

“I’m obviously going to look,” Elphaba says plainly. “And you already made me take my shirt off the other day; fair’s fair.”

Glinda scoffs, “Yeah, but you’re all hot and muscley.”

“Aren’t you a professional athlete?” Elphaba remarks. “I’d imagine you’re also hot and muscley.”

Glinda huffs and turns around, back to the camera as she changes. Hot, muscley, and… tattooed? Elphaba’s mind sputters. It’s only visible for a few moments as the blonde changes her shirt but her entire back is covered in a larger-than-life patchwork of line-drawn flowers and vines and leaves trailing up her back and across the strong lines of her shoulders. They would probably be visible if she were wearing a tank top, but under a normal t-shirt, all the ink was hidden.

“Holy shit,” Elphaba whispers.

Glinda, shirt replaced, turns back around, “What?”

“I didn’t know you had tattoos.”

“Oh, yeah,” Glinda says nonchalantly. “I hardly see it, they’re all on my back. You don’t have any?” She asks.

“No, I figured the green was enough to look at.”

Glinda hums, “We’ll have to get the rings when I get to Paris, then.”

“There’s a tattoo shop in the Village?”

“Of course, everyone’s gotta get the Olympic rings tattoo, Elphie,” Glinda says as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Where’s yours?” The green girl asks.

“I didn’t get it in Tokyo, so now’s the time. You should get one too, Olympic medalist that you are,” she says with a smirk.

Elphaba returns the half-smile, “Maybe so.”

“I’ll even hold your hand if you need,” Glinda ridicules.

“How good of you,” Elphaba mocks before signing off for the night, citing two Olympic final races tomorrow. “Goodnight, Glinda. Good luck tomorrow. Score a couple goals for me, yeah?”

“Get some rest, Thropp,” Glinda instructs with a soft smile. “And run fast tomorrow.”

_________

There’s truly nothing like it, Elphaba thinks as she stands in the center of the podium, head bowed, eyes misting over, gold medal around her neck.

She had done her victory lap, jumping into the stands to hug Boq and her coach. She’d knelt in front of her sister, pulling her into a fierce hug as Nessarose cried joyfully for her. Someone had handed her an American flag that she pulled tight around her shoulders. She’s never been one to show off but it’s hard not to skip her way around the track, soaking up the cheers and applause and utter elation.

The anthem wraps up, and Elphaba gives another round of warm congratulations to the women on either side of her before being ushered into another interview.

“Elphaba, you’ve just won a gold medal in the 200-meter dash, how does it feel?”

“Absolutely unreal,” she says, grinning deeply. “I’m rarely at a loss for words but this feels like one of those times.”

The interviewer laughs, “I think this is the most we’ve seen you smile at these Olympics.”

“This is probably the most I’ve ever smiled in my whole life,” Elphaba chuckles. “I really, truly cannot believe it. I feel lucky to represent my country, to have my friends and family in the stands, to wear this medal. The whole thing is such a distinct honor.”

“You still have one more race to run.”

Elphaba nods, “Yes, 400 hurdles. I’m feeling good. I’d love to grab a silver medal - take home the whole range - but I’m not betting on anything.”

“You may have noticed the rain started coming down a bit more heavily out there - will that affect how you run this next race?”

The sprinter laughs, “Actually, I did not notice the rain at all. I guess I was a bit preoccupied. Um - how will it affect the run? Hopefully, it won’t. We practice in all kinds of conditions, and I know the grounds crew will try to keep the track as dry as possible.”

“Alright everyone, that was Elphaba Thropp, the US’s newest gold medalist here at the Olympics. She’s got one more race to run so stay tuned here. Thank you, Elphaba and good luck.”

“Appreciate it,” she says, still beaming.

At the practice field, she finds Coach Dillamond again, who embraces her tightly. “Great work, Elphaba,” he says to her, holding the medal from where it rests against her chest. “Now, find a safe place for this and start getting warm for the hurdles.”

“No rest for the wicked,” she cackles.

_________

After a few hours of rain delays, Elphaba is back in the call room for the last time in these games, pinning on her bib and slapping her lane number onto her thighs. Lucky number 4, she thinks to herself.

She had gotten about a thousand messages after her gold medal race but only responded to one.

Glinda: you’re absolutely incredible, elphaba thropp

Glinda: go crush it one last time

Elphaba: Bring it home, G. See you in Paris soon.

When Elphaba is announced this time, there is no split second of silence, no murmurs in the crowd, just the loudest, most thunderous cheer she’s heard yet. That is incredibly cool, she thinks, waving and jogging to her blocks.

“Runners to your marks.”

The rain is still coming down lightly, the track shines under the lights of the stadium. No one is getting a PR today, she thinks, not in these conditions.

She does everything right: lines her hands up exactly where they always are, lifts into her blocks exactly as she always does. Her start is maybe a touch slower than normal, but not enough to cause any type of issues; she knows she can make it up in the final 40 meters.

Eight strides, then jump, three strides, then jump, three strides, then jump, three strides, then something happens.

Elphaba won’t know what happens until she watches the video later but the next thing she knows, there’s a noise to her right, and suddenly she’s skidding along the wet surface, pieces of the rubber track embedding themselves into her exposed leg and palm where she tried to catch herself.

The race finishes 200 meters away from where Elphaba lies on the ground, bleeding.

There’s one horrible, collective gasp heard throughout the stadium. Medics are running towards her and the runner in lane five, who has also fallen. She waves them off, and they hover over her as she shakily pulls herself upright, trickles of rain-thinned blood running down the outside of her thigh, bits of rubber sticking to her skin.

“I’m fine,” she tells them. “I’m fine, it’s just a scrape.”

Elphaba makes her way slowly to the bench, Dillamond forgoes the stairs onto the field and jumps down from the stands to meet her. She grimaces as he pours a bottle of water over her skinned leg, trying to dislodge any remaining turf.

“What the fuck happened?” she grits out.

Dillamond shakes his head, dismayed. “Runner in five slipped, knocked into you on her way down.”

“Fuck!” Elphaba cries between clenched teeth.

“Fuck, indeed,” Dillamond agrees. “You’re not hurt?”

Elphaba puts weight onto her hurt leg and shakes her head. “I don’t think so, just the road rash.”

“Let’s go get you checked out regardless. Can you walk?”

She nods but leans heavily on her coach all the way to the locker room. The crowd stands, faces contorted with worry, applauding her walk off the track. She catches Nessa’s eye on her way into the tunnel and gives her a quick nod. “I’m good,” Elphaba mouths to her in reassurance.

In the locker room, the team medic makes sure she’s not actually injured. No broken bones, no pulled muscles, no torn ligaments. She’s fine, aside from the scrape to her thigh and hand.

Aside from the fact that she didn’t win. Didn’t even finish.

Her phone is blowing up. She calls Nessarose from the med tent.

“I’m okay,” Elphaba says again. “I’ll meet you guys back at the Village in a bit, I just need to get bandaged up.”

“If you’re sure,” Nessa says cautiously.

“I’m positive - go watch the last half of the soccer game for me, okay?”

Elphaba hangs up the phone and looks across the room, catching the eye of the runner in lane five. Elphaba knows of her from being on the circuit - she’s from Jamaica and normally quite fast. Elphaba holds up a hand to the trainer who is about to bandage her leg. “One second,” she mutters.

She hops gingerly off the table and makes her way over to the Jamaican runner (Elphaba can’t recall her first name but her bib reads, “Nor”), who is teary-eyed and apologizing before Elphaba can even get to her. The green woman sits down on the table next to her and wraps an arm around her shoulder, bringing the crying runner into a loose embrace.

“These things happen,” Elphaba says in a low voice, trying her best to comfort the other runner. “It’s totally okay. Don’t apologize, please.” Nor nods into Elphaba’s shoulder but does say sorry one more time. Elphaba laughs, “I mean it, it’s no one’s fault. It sucks but it happens - don’t worry about this.” Elphaba gives a last reassuring squeeze to her shoulder and returns to her own med table to finish wrapping her scrape.

_________

Elphaba Thropp speaks out after crash dashes Olympic three-peat hopes

A photograph of US sprinter Thropp consoling Jamaican runner Nor has gone viral, showing the true meaning of sportsmanship and the Olympics. Thropp was running the 400-meter hurdles, her last race of these games, when Nor slipped from a neighboring lane and crashed into the American, prematurely ending her hopes for a third medal in Paris.

Thropp has already won bronze in the 400-meter dash and took home the gold medal in the 200-meter. She had joked in an earlier interview that she would love to win silver in the hurdles and “bring home the full range.”

When asked what she had said to the Jamaican runner who ended her race, Thropp responded, “I didn’t know that photo was being taken. It was a private, personal conversation between two athletes - that’s all I’m going to say. There’s no bad blood between us, though.”

We asked Thropp if there was any lingering disappointment from her time in Paris. “How could you possibly be disappointed with two Olympic medals? This is the highlight of my career. So what if I didn’t get a third? I’m mostly just glad Nor and I are both okay after a hard spill like that.”

Despite the early exit from the race, it seems Thropp is still pleased with her Olympic debut.

_________

Between the interviews and the visit to the medical tent, it takes Elphaba longer than normal to leave the Stade. The sun has long set, and evening is settling into the city by the time she makes it back to the Village, limping slightly, leg wrapped in gauze.

She knows she’s missed the end of Glinda’s game at this point, and she keeps checking her phone for a message from the striker. Elphaba grabs dinner with Boq and her sister, wanting to celebrate the gold medal but finding it hard to look past how poorly her hurdles went. It takes a somewhat stern talking-to from Nessarose for Elphaba to turn her attitude around.

“I know how awful it is to end on this note, but honestly, Fabala. You won an Olympic gold medal this morning. In every event, there are dozens of people who don’t win gold medals. And only one who does,” Nessa reasons with her sister. “So yeah, maybe this time you were one of the dozens who didn’t win. But you were the only gold medal winner of the 200.”

Elphaba shrugs, “I guess that’s one way of looking at it, you’re right.” She looks towards Boq, who still has his medal around his neck. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be a downer; it was just a weird way to end.”

“I get it,” Boq says. “But now we’re done, and soon we’ll celebrate properly.”

“Oh hey,” Elphaba says, changing the subject. “Did you guys get to watch the soccer game?”

Nessa just smiles knowingly at her sister and Boq answers the question: “Yes! It was utterly insane! They went into extra time, and that rookie, Sarima, scored in the 107th minute!”

“It was pretty fun to watch,” Nessa admits.

“107th minute? I didn’t know soccer could be that long,” Elphaba muses.

“Have you texted your girl?” Boq asks.

“She’s not my girl, and no, I haven’t yet.”

“Text her, Fabala! What are you waiting for?” her sister asks, incredulous.

Elphaba pulls her phone from her pocket with a teasing eye roll. “Oh. She’s already texted me.”

Glinda: so… u doing anything on saturday?

Elphaba huffs out a short laugh.

Elphaba: Why? Is there something going on?

Glinda sends over an attachment with three tickets to their semifinal game.

Glinda: figured u could bring ur sister and ur jumper friend

Glinda: seats are wheelchair accessible, btw. but not very close to the pitch

Elphaba: You’re kind of the best, Glinda Upland. I hope you know that.

Glinda: i mean, i’m no gold medal winner

Elphaba: Not yet, anyway.

Elphaba puts her phone down, grateful Glinda didn’t bring up her fall during the hurdles, and looks across the table. “We’ve got tickets to their match this weekend.”

Boq is practically vibrating in his seat. “Honestly, I’m more excited for this than I was for my own medal.”

_________

“It’s even more fun to be a spectator!” Elphaba yells to Boq over the noise of the crowd at the Stade de France.

It’s mid-afternoon and the field that was so wet the last time Elphaba was here is now gleaming in the warm sunlight. Elphaba, Nessarose, and Boq arrived early and watched the USWNT warm-up. Elphaba’s pinprick of anxiety at the thought of actually seeing Glinda in person is quickly evaporated when the captain spots the trio and waves enthusiastically from the pitch. They’re too far away to communicate but Elphaba waves back and lets out a loud wolf whistle that sends the small figure on the field doubled over into a fit of laughter.

Before kickoff, Elphaba grabs a couple beers for her and Boq and now they’re sitting in the sunshine, enjoying the atmosphere without the pressure of having to perform. It’s nice, Elphaba muses to herself.

The game is slow.

They’re playing Germany again and Elphaba really did think it was going to be another high-scoring game. But instead, there are lots of blocked shots and missed chances - it’s agonizing. The sprinter watches Glinda try to direct traffic on the field, try to rally her team but nothing seems to work until the game again goes into extra time.

Glinda scores. Of course she does, Elphaba thinks as the crowd goes absolutely nuts around her. She and Boq jump to their feet and watch as Glinda is tackled by her teammates on the sidelines. Elphaba takes a video of the scene: the jumbotron replaying the goal, the crowd cheering Glinda’s name, and posts it to her story with the caption, “@GUpland4 is inevitable.”

When the game ends moments later, the cheering does not. Germany sits in defeat on the grass as the US team celebrates. Some of the team heads back into the locker room but most stay and take photos with fans, signing autographs. Elphaba watches Glinda make her way over to their section but they’re still seated too far away to really see one another. Glinda is talking with one of the security guards on the field, pointing and gesturing to where Elphaba, Boq, and Nessa are sitting.

Eventually, the security guard makes his way up through the stands to them.

“You Elphaba Thropp?” he asks, voice gruff.

Elphaba looks sideways at her compatriots. “Um yeah. That’s me,” she answers hesitantly.

“Come with me. You two have to stay here,” he points to Boq and Nessa. “I’m already breaking too many rules.”

Elphaba follows him down among the throngs of fans still in the stands. He leads her down a staircase and under a stanchion and then Elphaba is on the field and Glinda Upland is throwing her small frame at the runner.

Elphaba laughs deeply and wraps her arms tightly around the blonde. “Hi,” she chuckles, sound muffled by Glinda’s hair.

Glinda peels herself off the taller woman and holds her at arm’s length, thumb brushing a slow and unconscious arc over Elphaba’s bicep. “Hi,” she replies. “We’re wearing the same shirt, how embarrassing,” Glinda says, noting the number 4 jersey Elphaba is also sporting. Elphaba cackles.

Glinda is wearing a dopey grin, and Elphaba can only imagine that hers looks the same. The striker is flushed, still breathing heavily, blonde curls held back from her face by a piece of pink pre-wrap. She’s so utterly gorgeous, Elphaba thinks.

Glinda gestures back to the crowd that’s still waiting for her, “I have some autographs to sign and such but if you hang out here for a second, I want to chat with you.”

Elphaba squeezes her shoulder, slightly in awe that they’re actually here together after all this time. “Of course, Upland. Take your time.”

The soccer star does her rounds, taking selfies, talking to fans, signing posters and shirts and balls. She’s truly a celebrity here. Elphaba sits on an empty sideline bench as she watches Glinda move gracefully through the throngs of admirers. Once the crowds thin slightly, Glinda excuses herself and comes to sit next to the sprinter, tucking one leg underneath her so she can face Elphaba fully.

Glinda gingerly runs a finger along the edge of the white bandage sticking out from below the hem of Elphaba’s shorts. “I know we haven’t talked about it yet but I certainly hope that wasn’t as bad as it looked on TV.”

“It’s not too gnarly, just a bit of a scrape,” Elphaba reassures her.

“If you say so,” Glinda aqueises. “You definitely had my heart in my throat for a while there. I was glad to see you walk off.” Elphaba hums in agreement but doesn’t say anything. Glinda continues, “I’m glad you’re alright. And I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too,” Elphaba says softly. “This was really incredible to see in person,” she gestures to the stadium at large.

It becomes immediately clear to Elphaba that Glinda is a very tactile person as she tucks a strand of Elphaba’s hair behind her ear, fingers lingering for just a split second at her jaw. It also becomes immediately clear to Elphaba that she is utterly and totally helpless to the hammering of her heart as Glinda gazes at her.

“I’m so insanely proud of you, Elphaba,” Glinda says, voice uncharacteristically serious. “I mean it. Two medals in your first Olympics is nothing to shake your head at.”

Elphaba feels her face flush and she fights to keep her hands off the other woman. “I can’t tell you how much it means to hear you say that.”

“And now I’m going to say something kind of shitty,” Glinda looks away from Elphaba and scrunches up her face. She takes a deep breath and says slowly, “I need to focus on this next match. I mean, it’s the gold medal match.” Elphaba can hear the mixed emotion in her voice. “I’m not like, breaking off whatever this is. I just need to focus on football and only football for the next three days.”

“Hey,” Elphaba says, losing the battle to keep her hands to herself and placing her uninjured palm on top of Glinda’s, thumb swiping deliberately over her knuckles. “I understand. No distractions.”

“No, no. You’re not a distraction. You’re someone I think I really like and I want to be able to give that the time and energy it deserves but I can’t do that and play for this team and captain this team all at the same time.”

“Glinda, I really do understand,” Elphaba assures her.

“I’m sorry,” Glinda says quietly, looking down at their joined hands.

“I’m not,” Elphaba squeezes her hand. “Do what you have to do and I’ll be here when you win.”

Glinda laughs wetly. “You’re awfully cocky for someone dressed mostly in gauze.”

Elphaba pushes her shoulder playfully. “Can I still come to the match?”

“Of course. I’d love that. All three of you again?”

Elphaba shakes her head, “Nessa has to start training so just me and Boq if you can swing it.”

“Consider it done,” Glinda announces. “I’ll send you those when I get them but after that, you probably won’t hear from me for a couple of days.”

“I totally understand, G.”

Glinda stares unabashedly at the runner. “You’re a good one, Elphaba Thropp. I’ve gotta get back,” she gestures towards the locker room, starting to stand, “but I’ll see you in a couple days, yeah?”

“Absolutely,” Elphaba confirms, still grinning widely.

Glinda takes one quick glance around at the nearly empty stadium, leans down, and leaves a barely lingering kiss at the corner of Elphaba’s mouth before bounding off into the tunnel.

_________

@soccerhero31: i was just at the semis and you should have SEEN the way Upland lit up when she spotted Elphaba in the stands

@gaylindaupland: Not them wearing matching Upland jerseys, it’s all too much for my gay heart

@uswntfanatic: Guys they’re literally just friends this is all speculation

@soccerhero31: @uswntfanatic idk… someone said they saw them kiss

@rightsidestrongside: @soccerhero31 OMG What the fuck?? Are you serious?????

@woso99: can’t believe we’re watching this modern-day love story play out before our eyes #blessings

@soccer_not_football: honestly nothing cuter than them hyping each other up on insta

@gaylindupland: @soccer_not_football they’re each others’ biggest fans *heart eyes emoji*

_________

The next few days drag for Elphaba.

She and Boq and occasionally Nessa get to spend the rest of the games going to the remaining events. They watch water polo and rock climbing and beach volleyball. People stop Elphaba constantly, asking for photos and autographs. It’s pretty surreal and she always makes sure to loop Boq and her sister into the photos when she can, trying to take the weight of the celebrity off herself a bit.

Objectively, it’s pretty fun. But Elphaba is counting down the moments until Glinda’s match, until she can see the captain again.

She hears from Glinda once, a brief text with a link to the two tickets.

Glinda: as promised

Glinda: excited to see you there xx

Elphaba: Thank you, G. Good luck tomorrow. Kick ass.

Glinda “likes” the message but doesn’t respond further and Elphaba tries not to let it eat at her; she understands the need to put away distractions. But it feels like a lifetime before she and Boq are back in the Stade de France.

They don’t get there early this time. Elphaba, cognizant of not being a distraction, makes sure they arrive just a few moments before the national anthems play, plastic pints of cheap lager in their hands. Glinda must have called in a favor or two because their seats are in the first row, right at the corner flag. Elphaba has ditched her custom-made jersey in favor of a black “USA” t-shirt with the sleeves cut off and a navy blue baseball cap with the US soccer crest embroidered.

(When she had met Boq outside the Team House, he had given her a once over and quipped, “You know, they don’t actually hand out medals for people who dress the gayest,” and Elphaba had playfully slapped the back of his head.)

The game gets underway and it’s very quickly clear that the US has the upper hand. There are several good chances in the opening moments of the match that sail just wide or the Brazilian keeper gets a lucky hand on.

But it only takes about 20 minutes for an absolutely perfectly placed ball to find its way into the back of the net, courtesy of none other than Glinda Upland.

In the few weeks that Elphaba has known her, she’s seen a lot of different emotions cross Glinda’s face but nothing even comes close to the raw, animalistic intensity she sees after Glinda slots this ball home.

The striker doesn’t even watch the ball roll into the goal but keeps running, fists clenched at her sides, mouth open in an ecstatic, guttural scream, the rest of her team trailing behind her, until she’s standing directly in front of Elphaba.

Every US fan in the stadium is on their feet, screaming right back at Glinda. Elphaba leans down, halfway over the barricade and pumps her fists at the woman. Part of Elphaba is feeling utter and total joy at watching Glinda score this goal and another part of her is feeling a slight relief that Glinda came to celebrate here, with her.

Glinda stops in front of the green woman, still yelling, and gives Elphaba the most solid, stinging, perfect high-five of all time before turning around and being engulfed by her teammates.

An hour and a half later, gold confetti streams into the air as the final whistle blows and both teams collapse onto the pitch, Brazil in agony and the US in ecstasy.

There are several minutes of revelry and chaos on the field as the team celebrates their gold medal. Elphaba and Boq cheer loudly alongside the thousands of fans in the stadium as the players disperse to find their friends and family among the crowd. Elphaba watches Glinda leap into her teammate’s arms and hug her coach enthusiastically before looking around the arena, eyes landing on the corner she had found Elphaba in earlier.

And suddenly Glinda’s running - somehow still running - towards them. She approaches the short concrete wall that separates the seats from the field and isn’t slowing down. She throws herself at Elphaba, who leans over the wall to embrace the striker, but Glinda has different plans. With one hand fisting into the collar of the green girl’s shirt, the other grasps roughly at the back of her neck as Glinda pulls Elphaba into a fierce kiss.

Chapter Text

July 2024

Normally, Glinda is very disciplined in her warm-ups.

Normally, she’s head down, focused on the drill, on the stretch, on the game ahead.

Normally, the jumbotron isn’t broadcasting the gold medal race of a girl she’s rapidly developing feelings for.

They’re supposed to be warming up; this is their first win-or-go-home game and it starts in 45 minutes. Both teams are out on the pitch and Glinda has been in the same stretch for three minutes, eyes glued to the giant stadium screen where the 200-meter finalists are being announced.

Coach Morrible seems to notice the pause in her team, “Girls, what is this?! Let’s move!”

Milla catches Glinda’s eye and takes the bullet for her friend. “Coach, come on, it’s barely 20 seconds,” she says, gesturing up at the runners lining up behind their lane numbers.

Morrible grumbles but throws up her hands and lets the team waste another minute. “Only because it’s the Olympics,” she spits.

Glinda mouths a quick “thank you” to her midfielder and turns back to the screen, easing into another stretch. The broadcast plays without sound, but the entire team is silent and staring up at it. They all want to support the American sprinter and, by extension, their own teammate.

Glinda watches, glued to the screen as Elphaba walks out onto the track with a single, terse wave. She watches the green girl breathe slowly and admires how totally calm and loose she appears to be, as though nerves can’t even get to her at this point. She watches as the camera stays close to Elphaba, the only American in the final. She watches as Elphaba shakes out her legs and positions herself in the blocks. She watches as all nine runners leap out onto the track, thankful that Elphaba is so easy to spot among the fray.

Glinda doesn’t even notice that she’s suddenly gotten up from the ground at some point, gut coiled in anticipation, teammates standing next to her, necks craned as everyone watches the jumbotron.

Milla’s hand is on Glinda’s shoulder as the runners round the curve of the track, and suddenly Elphaba is a half step ahead, she’s a step ahead, she’s crossing the finish line and Glinda is jumping and pumping her hands into the air.

Glinda’s yelling louder than she anticipated but she can’t help it, “EL-PHA-BA!!!!” she screams, each syllable punctuated by a sharp punch of her fist into the empty air.

Milla and Sarima whoop behind her, almost equally excited. Glinda somehow manages to jump into both of their arms at the same time, elation bubbling over. A gold medal, Glinda thinks with reverence. There’s no one more deserving. She’s filled with an odd sense of pride and genuine joy for Elphaba. She had been happy when Fiyero had won the World Cup with France but somehow, her emotions around Elphaba’s achievement seem to dwarf the excitement she had felt for her ex.

“Upland!” Morrible squawks. “You can send one text message to your friend but then I suggest you refocus immediately.”

Glinda nods and quickly turns her phone back on from where it was tucked away in her bag.

Glinda: you’re absolutely incredible, elphaba thropp

Glinda: go crush it one last time

And then Glinda is back, shoving away the excitement for Elphaba in favor of focusing on the match at hand.

In the locker room, Glinda gives another one of her now-famous rallies. “Okay girls, this is it. Everything before this was child’s play. There is zero room for error.” She looks around at all of her starters, people like Milla and Pfannee who she’s played next to her whole life, and people like Sarima, who is quickly finding a place on this team under Glinda’s wing.

“We need to go out on that pitch and play like we know we can. Score early, score often, keep the defense tight. This is everything we’ve worked on for years but this time, there’s an Olympic medal down the line.” She places her hand in the center of the circle. “USA on three! One, two, three –“

“USA!”

“Let’s fucking go!” Milla shouts before storming out of the locker room.

_________

It’s not that Glinda’s pep talk did nothing, but after a scoreless first and second half, the whole team is feeling the frustration of Japan’s central defense and high line.

They’re huddled together on the bench in between full time and the half-hour of overtime, Morrible talking strategy as they rehydrate and regroup. Coach looks to Glinda, “Upland, any words of advice?”

Glinda laughs humorlessly. “Uh. Not really. We just have to keep playing until we win. It’s that simple. Most of us are about to play 120 minutes of soccer - lean on your strength training and just get through it.”

Sarima nudges Glinda and says in a low whisper, “That wasn’t hugely inspiring, Cap.”

Glinda rolls her eyes but finds herself smiling despite the exhaustion, “Sarima, just score a goal, please.”

Somehow, that works. Sarima gets on the end of a free kick and scores deep into extra time, putting the US ahead by a goal in the waning moments of the game. Glinda shoves Sarima in the chest harder than would be considered playful but the rookie laughs it off, frenzied to be winning finally, “Fuck yes, Sarima! That’s what I’m talking about, kid!” Glinda yells.

The game ends a few minutes later, Sarima’s goal the only number on the board. The atmosphere in the locker room is jovial but tired. Glinda makes one final speech for the day:

“That was a lesson in toughing it out, guys,” she says, laughter evident in her voice. “Sarima, dearest, if you don’t win Rookie of the Year, I’m personally going to crack some skulls in the NWSL front office.” Glinda beams down at the young forward from where she’s standing on a chair delivering her soliloquy. “We’re facing Germany again in three days and you better believe they’ve been watching tape. The vulnerabilities that we were able to exploit in the group stage have no doubt been shorn up. The next few days are going to be a lot of video, a lot of strategy, and a lot of practice.”

“Let’s get to it, then, cap!” Shenshen hollers and Glinda hops down off her chair, gathering her team for one last huddle.

“Alright, Sarima on three! One, two, three–“

“Sarima!” the whole team cheers as the rookie flushes bright red but laughs loudly alongside her team.

_________

Heartwarming video shows true spirit of Olympics as USWNT cheers on American Sprinter

In a short video posted to the NBC Olympics Instagram page, US Soccer star Glinda Upland and teammates are seen cheering on American sprinter Elphaba Thropp as she wins gold in the 200 meters. The US National team was in the middle of warm-ups for their semifinal game against Japan when the scoreboard began broadcasting the women’s 200-meter finals. The soccer team stopped to watch and celebrated the American’s win, showing again just how uniting the Olympic games can be.

Upland and Thropp have taken to social media several times during these games to show support for one other. Thropp was even spotted last week wearing Upland’s soccer jersey on her way into the locker room before race day, voicing her support for the US captain in a post-race interview.

Upland took to Instagram, congratulating the sprinter on her bronze medal win in the 400 meters on Tuesday.

“This sort of support and sportsmanship is what the Olympics is truly about,” says NBC Sports analyst Tibbett. “It’s exciting to see athletes watching and rooting for each other across sport lines.”

Thropp won bronze and gold medals at these games. Upland and the USWNT are playing against Germany on Saturday for a place in the finals.

_________

The bus ride back to the hotel is fairly quiet; everyone just ready to take a shower and fall into bed at this point. Glinda, though exhausted, is still giddy. Giddy about their quarterfinal win, about Elphaba’s gold medal, about finally heading to Paris. She pulls out her phone and ignores all messages except the one Elphaba had sent her several hours earlier, after her 200-meter win.

Elphaba: Bring it home, G. See you in Paris.

Glinda feels a rush of unexpected affection at the nickname, astonished by how quickly and easily Elphaba seems to slot herself into Glinda’s life. And now that they were on their way to Paris, Glinda would have the opportunity to see the green girl again in person, hopefully for slightly longer than their split-second airport encounter.

All Glinda has to do is call in a few favors, make sure the tickets are in a wheelchair zone, and then she’s sending Elphaba three tickets to the semifinal match in Paris that weekend.

Elphaba: You’re kind of the best, Glinda Upland. I hope you know that.

Glinda: i mean, i’m no gold medal winner

Elphaba: Not yet, anyway.

Glinda can’t help but laugh at Elphaba’s confidence in her, in her team. It’s sweet and her unyielding support means the world to the striker.

The team hauls their gear off the bus as Morrible calls, “Meet in the lobby tomorrow morning at 9 - our flight leaves at 11.” Everyone shuffles to their rooms, Glinda secretly glad that Milla’s off galavanting with their backup keeper, grateful for the peace and quiet of an empty room.

She’s freshly showered and in her sweats, about to call Elphaba to ask about her last race, when there’s an insistent knocking on the door. She opens it and Milla, face intense, brushes past her into the room.

“What’s going on?” Glinda asks.

“Dude,” Milla starts. “Have you talked to Thropp?”

“Yeah, I just sent her tickets for the semis. Why?”

“Did you see what happened?” Milla asks, her voice too gentle. Glinda shakes her head slowly, concern growing in her gut.

Milla holds out her phone for Glinda to watch a replay of Elphaba’s 400-meter hurdles. Her heart hammers in her chest, the expression on Milla’s face tells Glinda everything she needs to know: the race didn’t go well. 

Glinda watches on the small screen in horror as the runner next to Elphaba loses her footing on the slick track surface and careens into Elphaba, sending her sprawling across the track.

The camera cuts to the runners who finish, who medal, before quickly jumping back to Elphaba, who is still on the ground. Glinda watches her push herself up slowly, blood running down her leg. Empirically, she knows Elphaba’s okay. She texted her not even an hour ago. But it’s hard to watch as the camera follows the sprinter as she limps to the sidelines and then into the medical tent.

“Holy shit,” Glinda whispers. “She didn’t say anything about it.”

“She probably didn’t want to worry you, Glin,” Missa guesses.

Glinda exhales deeply. “Shit,” she says again. “I’m going to kick you out now, I have to call her.” Milla takes her leave and Glinda has her phone out, calling Elphaba before she knows it.

When the call connects, Elphaba is on the other end looking drained. Her hair is put up messily, glasses perched on the bridge of her nose, and even still, she’s undeniably gorgeous, Glinda notes.

“Elphie,” Glinda all but gasps, voice filled with concern, “Babe…”

Elphaba’s face screws up into a grimace, pressing two fingers to her temple. “Does that mean you just saw the hurdles?”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Glinda asks carefully.

Elphaba sighs. “I don’t know,” she says honestly. “I think I was hoping you wouldn’t see it? It’s sort of an embarrassing way to go out.”

Glinda feels a tug of emotion. “Elphaba–” she starts but the green girl interrupts her.

“Hey. I would love to talk about literally anything else. Sorry, I’m just - it’s still too fresh,” Elphaba says, almost sheepishly.

“Of course,” Glinda nods. “But you’re okay, right? Not injured?”

“I’m a little banged up but it’s minor - you don’t need to worry,” Elphaba reassures her with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Good,” Glinda says decisively. “Now show me your gold medal, Thropp,” she changes the subject and suddenly Elphaba’s eyes do brighten. She scrambles up to grab the medal from where it sat on the dresser and Glinda tries not to gasp as she catches a glimpse of the bandage wrapped around her upper leg. Elphaba is back and slowly lowering herself into the chair, gold medal in hand.

“Check this out,” the green woman says, holding the medal up to the camera.

Glinda lets out a low whistle, feeling a spark of jealousy, wanting her own medal. “Ooh, she’s pretty. Put it on,” she demands. Elphaba does and Glinda swoons at the lazy smile Elphaba wears as she admires her own trophy.

“Not half bad,” Elphaba smirks.

Glinda hums. “Green goes good with gold.”

Elphaba’s smile cranks even brighter at Glinda’s comment. “Maybe so,” she concedes. “So, tell me about your game, I didn’t get to watch any of it.”

Glinda lets out an animated groan, “Oh god, Elphie I am so fucking tired.”

“Why? What happened?!” Elphaba snorts.

“It was so long! No one is supposed to run that much!” Elphaba raises an eyebrow in challenge. “Okay come on, you ran for 22 seconds, I ran for two hours.”

Elphaba feigns offense, “Hey now, I ran for 21.83 seconds! Put some respect on this medal, Upland.”

Glinda clicks her tongue at the sprinter, “Yeah whatever, you got a gold medal today and I got to sweat my ass off and barely eke out a win.”

“Boq told me that your rookie kid scored the only goal?”

Glinda smiles fondly, “Sarima. Ugh, she’s the best. She’s like 19 years old and already making a such name for herself - it’s cool to see.”

“I recognize that look,” Elphaba says knowingly. “That’s an older sister look if I ever saw one. Let me guess: you took her under your wing and now she looks up to you and the two of you make some kind of unstoppable goal-scoring pair?”

Glinda narrows her eyes slightly. “That was… dead on. Yes, that’s exactly what happened. How did you do that?”

Elphaba just points to herself and says sagely, “Eldest sister. I know how these things go.”

“Well, I’m an only child so I did have to adopt Sarima but I’d say it’s working out.”

“Really?” Elphaba asks, “No siblings?”

“Nope,” Glinda confirms. “Just me and my parents.”

“They in Paris?”

Glinda smiles sadly, “No. Uh - my dad, he’s not well. Couldn’t make the trip.”

Elphaba’s gaze turns gentle. “Sorry to hear that, Glinda. Where are they from?”

“California. Bay Area. I grew up just outside San Fransisco,” Glinda answers and she’s reminded just how much she and Elphaba don’t actually know about each other.

Elphaba must be thinking the same thing. “Hmm,” she says. “That explains the poppies.” Glinda gives her a befuddled look. “Your tattoo? They’re California poppies, right?”

“Yeah. How did you…?” Glinda asks, confused.

Elphaba just laughs, “I’m from Los Angeles, I’m familiar with the state flower.”

“How did I not know you were from LA?” Glinda wonders aloud.

“There’s a lot we don’t know about each other yet,” Elphaba says softly. Yet, Glinda thinks, hopeful. “And I live on the East Coast now - Boston.”

“What’s in Boston?” 

“My apartment,” Elphaba says dryly. “And also Harvard.”

Glinda balks. “Tell me you don’t have two Olympic medals and a degree from Harvard University.”

Elphaba blushes a darker green and tries to laugh it off, “No degree - I’m still working on it.”

“You’re in grad school?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Elphaba smiles, almost shy.

Glinda just shakes her head disbelievingly, “You’re something else, you know that? What are you studying?”

“Political Science with an emphasis on global development and political theory.”

Glinda’s mouth hangs open in awe. “You’re the coolest person I know.”

Ephaba merely laughs, eyes lit up behind her glasses. “So yeah, Boston for another year or so.”

“And then what?” Glinda asks, genuinely curious.

Elphaba sputters, eyebrows arching. “No clue. Studying politics makes me very disinclined to be in politics. Maybe I’ll teach. Maybe I’ll compete until I run my body into the ground. It’s anyone’s guess at this point.” She says it with a smile, though. 

Glinda is still awestruck by the green woman. She knew Elphaba was smart, interesting, thoughtful - on top of being an elite athlete - but she didn’t anticipate her being an Olympian while simultaneously finishing some ungodly difficult advanced degree.

“Damn,” Glinda drawls. “You’re amazing.” She again has to stop herself from saying what she’s actually thinking: I really want to kiss you, I don’t know what this is but I want it to be something very badly, maybe after you finish your degree you could move to London.

Elphaba blushes again but shrugs off Glinda’s compliment. “What about you? Grew up in the Bay and then what?”

Suddenly, Glinda feels much less accomplished. “Um. A year in college and then I went directly into the NWSL - Seattle.”

“And then London a few years later?” Elphaba asks though it’s not really a question.

“Oh, someone’s done some Googling, it seems,” Glinda prods.

Elphaba has the good sense to at least pretend to look guilty. “Like you didn’t look me up, too.”

“Elphaba, dear, before the Olympics, there was basically nothing to look up.”

“So you did look!” Elphaba cries.

Glinda flushes, caught. “Bite me, Thropp,” Glinda glares at her through the phone.

Elphaba moves on. “So when will you guys be in Paris?”

“We’ll fly in tomorrow midday and then it’s just training until the game. I know I’ll be around before but I probably won’t be able to see you until after the semi,” Glinda says somewhat apologetically.

“I’m just excited to watch some football, Upland.”

Glinda gives a fake grimace. “Yeah, it sounds weird when you say it. Stick to ’soccer,’ please.”

“Thanks for those tickets, by the way,” Elphaba says, letting Glinda’s joke glance off her. “How did you know to have them wheelchair accessible?”

Glinda shrugged, “You mentioned your sister was a Paralmypian and then I saw you hugging someone in a wheelchair after your race - I put two and two together.”

“Very perceptive. But I appreciate you doing that, she’s stoked too. Boq is maybe the most excited of all of us, though, I think he’s deeply in love with you,” Elphaba jokes.

“Yeah, well, send him my apologies - he’s not the one I’m interested in,” Glinda says with a smirk.

_________

Glinda can’t help but feel a certain thrill as she steps onto the pitch at the Stade de France for the first time. It’s a beautiful afternoon, the sun is high and warm and fans are already beginning to file into the stadium as the team starts warming up.

The striker generally knows where Elphaba’s seats are, and she keeps stealing glances in that direction, hoping to catch sight of the woman. It shouldn’t be hard, Glinda thinks, she’s insanely tall and also green.

It’s Milla who spots the trio first, “Glin, I’ve got eyes on your girl!” She calls as they’re doing high-knees and heel flicks across midfield.

Glinda follows Milla’s pointed finger and sure enough, the sprinter and her friends are lounging in the sun, drinking beers and peering out over the field, presumably looking for Glinda.

The blonde waves exaggeratedly, hoping to catch their attention. Elphaba jumps up when she sees Glinda, throwing up a lazy salute before putting two fingers in her mouth and letting out a sharp wolf whistle that Glinda can hear from all the way down on the field. The first thing Elphaba does when she sees her in person is continue to flirt shamelessly - it’s so absurd that Glinda can’t help but double over laughing.

“My god, Upland,” Sarima says as she jogs past. “You’re so fucking whipped.”

Glinda gestures to where the green woman still stands, “Come on. Look at her! Who wouldn’t be?”

“Yes, Glin, she’s very pretty. Let’s keep it moving,” Milla says placatingly and without malice.

“You gonna invite her to our party?” Sarima asks. The USWNT is known for its raucous and celebratory parties after winning tournaments, Sarima already excited to experience her first one.

“First we gotta win, rook,” Glinda reminds her. “Two games, in fact.” The thought is somewhat sobering to Glinda; she knows they’re favored to win the tournament but they still have two very difficult games ahead of them. She worries briefly that she’s let her focus wander, not that she thinks Elphaba is a distraction but she finds herself wanting to give more of herself to the runner than she should when she has an Olympic medal on the line.

Glinda missed out on the World Cup the year before, still too fresh off her ACL tear. And in the Tokyo Olympics, the bronze medal, while a significant achievement, felt more like a consolation prize than a genuine victory. This Olympics was her real shot at a gold medal, she needed to buckle down and take it seriously. As much as she’s enjoyed flirting with and getting to know and perhaps even falling for Elphaba, she has to remind herself that now is not the time to lose focus.

She puts her head down and gives her everything to the next 90 minutes.

_________

Glinda’s face is set and stern, a far cry from her usual gracious, genuine interview persona.

“Glinda, both teams are scoreless at the end of the first half. You played Germany and beat them by three goals last week. What changed?”

Her answers are clipped. “They clearly learned from their mistakes, and we intend to learn from the mistakes we made during the first half.”

“How do you reconcile with five unconverted free kicks in the attacking third?”

“A couple of those were mine. I took the blame, and now we just have to move on and convert next time.” Glinda didn’t like the negative skew the interview was taking, nor did she enjoy the poor gameplay from herself and her team.

“Thank you, and good luck in the second half.”

Glinda doesn’t respond, just nods once and takes off down the tunnel.

In the locker room, the atmosphere isn’t much better. The team looks to Glinda to say something when she gets in.

“Honestly,” she starts. “I don’t have much to say. I’ve made some mistakes out there, I haven’t finished well. I’m not the person to look to for advice today. If someone else has a leg to stand on, the floor is yours.”

Shenshen stands, taking over captain duties while Glinda changes and tries not to sulk.

“This isn’t an ideal situation, but we’ve come back from way worse,” Shenshen says plainly and without any of the punch that Glinda normally provides. “Rely on your back line to keep things tight, we just need our playmakers to find the net.”

Shenshen is, apparently, finished and Milla sidles up to Glinda.

“Hey, can I ask what the fuck is going on with you right now?”

Glinda laughs humorlessly, “We should be up by at least two goals and I couldn’t convert. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I’m letting the team down.”

“The only way you’ve let the team down,” Milla argues, “is by letting Shen make that uninspired speech. You’re playing football, it’s not going to be perfect every time. Get your head on straight, finish your chances, score a goal, and then go have an actual, face-to-face conversation with a very good-looking girl who’s been waiting to see you. It’s that simple.”

Glinda shakes her head as though the physical act of doing so will help get her back on track. “You’re right, sorry. This doesn’t have anything to do with her, though,” Glinda swears to her teammate.

“I know,” Milla says kindly. “But wouldn’t it be more fun to see her after a win than a loss?”

Glinda nods slowly. “Compelling argument.”

“Now go out there and make sure we win, Cap.”

Glinda takes a deep breath, steadying herself. “Milla, you’re the only person on earth who can talk me off the ledge. I adore you.”

“All in a day’s work,” the midfielder kids.

Glinda hops back up, “Okay, gals. Sorry for the meltdown; I’m back. Shen is right, it’s not like we’re having to come back from a deficit - we just need one goal. We know how to put the ball in the net. All we need to do now is trust one another and make the plays we know how to make. This is a team built on complete and total resilience, and if we can’t turn the tide in our favor, no one can.” Glinda takes a sweeping look at the team. “Let’s go prove that we’re the best team in the world.”

_________

After another scoreless 45 minutes, the sideline referee holds up a blinking sign: 7. Seven minutes of added time before they have to go into overtime again. Glinda feels the pressure mounting, needing a goal now. She makes eye contact with Milla from halfway across the pitch during a pause in gameplay who nods at her and shouts, too loudly, “Let’s fucking go, Upland!” It’s a command and Glinda heeds it.

5 minutes later, Glinda gets on the end of a long free kick and chips the ball into the top corner of the goal. It’s not much but it doesn’t have to be much. They’re ahead by one with 2 minutes remaining. The stadium goes nuts. It’s the loudest Glinda has ever heard an arena, and she runs hard at her teammates, slightly too aggressive but much too pumped up to reign herself in. Glinda lets herself slam into Milla, who’s screaming something unintelligible at her, before the rest of the team dogpiles atop them.

It’s chaos. It’s joy. It’s everything.

The game ends and the cheering doesn’t stop for a long time. Glinda does the rounds, shaking hands and clapping backs of the twice-defeated German team, sweeping her teammates into adoring hugs. After a time, Glinda comes back down to earth, catching her breath finally and remembers the woman waiting for her.

One hand shielding her eyes against the sun, Glinda tries once again to make out Elphaba in the crowd.

She jogs her way to a security guard at the bottom of the stands.

“Excuse me,” she says, putting on her most charming smile. “I have a friend waiting on me in the stands, could she come onto the pitch briefly?”

The security guard looks askance, “I really shouldn’t let that happen.”

Glinda smiles sweetly again, “I totally understand - but she’s an athlete herself. Just ran Track and Field events here a few days ago. Look,” Glinda points to where Elphaba’s standing. “She’s right there. You can even go get her if you want. I just need to talk to her for a moment.”

He gives Glinda another sideways glance. “What’s her name?”

“Elphaba Thropp.”

The security guard’s eyes widen, “Oh, Elphaba Thropp? I’m really not supposed to do this but I’ll make an exception as long as you don’t tell anyone.”

Glinda thanks him and watches as he weaves his way up to where Elphaba and her friends are sitting. She’s not sure why, but watching Elphaba walk towards her, Glinda feels a sudden rush of anxiety. What if it’s not the same in person, what if Elphaba isn’t attracted to her, what if I ruin it with the conversation we’re about to have, Glinda wonders, mind racing.

It isn’t until the taller woman has her arms wrapped around Glinda that the anxious thoughts finally subside. Glinda cracks a joke about Elphaba wearing her jersey and Elphaba throws her head back and laughs loud and full. Regretfully, Glinda pulls away to go sign autographs and take photos but makes Elphaba promise to hang tight on the field.

She’s signing a poster for a young girl in the stands when she asks, “Is that Elphaba Thropp?”

Glinda laughs, “Yeah, do you know her?”

“We watched some of her races; she’s so cool,” the girl says with reverence.

“She is pretty dang cool, you’re right,” Glinda says, throwing a glance over her shoulder at the runner who is already gazing at her from a ways away.

“Are you guys friends?” the girl asks as Glinda moves on to sign something else.

She cocks her head for a moment, thinking, “Yeah. I think we are.” Glinda takes a few more photos and signs a few more things (including someone’s forehead) before she excuses herself and makes her way over to where Elphaba is waiting for her.

“Hi,” Elphaba says as she sits down next to her. Glinda is completely captivated and doing everything in her power not to lean into the green woman’s space.

“Hi,” Glinda breathes, trying to adjust to having Elphaba in front of her and not across a phone screen. “Thank you for coming.”

Elphaba tries to hold back a smile. “Nowhere else I’d rather be,” she says. “I mean, I knew you were good at soccer but holy shit, Upland. You’re something else,” Elphaba chuckles out, only half joking.

“That was not my best work if we’re being honest. I’m just glad it’s over.”

“One left,” Elphaba says, and the sentiment hangs heavily in the air.

Glinda doesn’t respond but she does fail to keep her hands to herself. There’s a jolt of electricity that runs between them as Glinda traces a finger around the seam of the bandage on Elphaba’s leg. She is struck by the contrast of their skin tones and the stunning expanse of emerald under her hand.

“I know we haven’t talked about it yet but I certainly hope that wasn’t as bad as it looked on TV,” she says gently.

Elphaba assures her that she’s alright, still clearly not wanting to talk about her stumble in the hurdles. So Glinda doesn’t press, just tells her how happy she is that Elphaba’s okay.

Glinda looks up from where she had been watching her own fingers trace mindless patterns against Elphaba’s leg. Blue eyes meet dark ones and Glinda reaches out. Before she even knows what she’s doing, Glinda is tucking a strand of black hair behind Elphaba’s ear, fingers skating over the shell of her ear, lingering at the base of her sharp jaw. It’s intimate and endlessly affectionate and Glinda can’t help herself.

“I’m so insanely proud of you, Elphaba,” Glinda says, serious and intense. She means it, too. Competing in the Olympics is not for the faint of heart and not only has Elphaba competed and won, she did so with grace and compassion in a way that people took notice of.

So Glinda tells her this before she gives Elphaba the bad news. She tells the sprinter that she needs to give this gold medal match one hundred percent of her focus, she can’t be distracted right now. She worries she’s being too harsh, worries she’s ruining her chance with Elphaba. But one look at Elphaba’s eyes, filled with understanding and respect - Elphaba’s steady hand coming to rest on top of Glinda’s fidgeting one - and Glinda knows it will be alright, that she’ll find Elphaba again after the final.

“I’m sorry,” Glinda says genuinely.

“I’m not,” Elphaba replies, “Do what you have to do and I’ll be here when you win.” Glinda’s chest tightens with affection for the runner and Glinda promises her tickets to the final, mentally calculating how many favors she’ll owe the marketing guy after this request.

“You’re a good one, Elphaba Thropp,” Glinda tells her, voice filled with an emotion she doesn’t yet understand. Glinda stands and motions to the locker room, “I’ve gotta get back but I’ll see you in a couple days, yeah?”

“Absolutely,” Elphaba says with a sureness that calms Glinda easily.

Glinda takes a steadying breath, looks around to make sure there aren’t cameras trained on them, and places a quick and feather-light kiss to the corner of Elphaba’s mouth.

_________

No one is really sure how it started or if she has always been like this but where some people might have goal celebrations, Glinda Upland taps into an incredibly animalistic, almost feral, intensity that she doesn’t show in any other moments. It’s a known fact among her teammates: when Glinda scores, she goes ever so slightly insane.

Which is how she finds herself standing by the corner flag, hands clenched into fists at her side, screaming with a fervor she didn’t know she had. She’s not sure why she gravitated this way, maybe she knew she would find Elphaba, celebrate with her, but either way, Glinda stands screaming in front of the sprinter. She can practically hear the thundering footsteps of her teammates as they approach to drown her in congratulations, her first-ever goal scored in a gold medal match.

As the animalistic delirium wears off, Glinda, who only has eyes for Elphaba in this moment, reaches up into the stands and gives her the most resoundingly satisfying high five of her entire life.

Then she turns around and lets the wave of her teammates envelope her.

_________

Glinda genuinely wonders if this is the best feeling in the world: an Olympic gold medal.

She is conscious of how much of her life has been consumed by soccer: all the classes missed, all the social events she had to leave early, all the friendships and relationships that suffered because soccer came first. None of it mattered when the whistle blew and golden confetti streamed down onto the pitch. It was a type of euphoria that cannot be named but was shared by each and every member of her team.

After the initial celebration, she gathered the team in the center of the field to say a few words before letting them go find their family and friends in the stadium.

“I just want to say,” Glinda yells over the roar of the crowd, “how unbelievably proud I am of all of you, of each of you.” She chokes back a sudden crest of emotion. “I genuinely love you all with everything I have. This is a special team. Don’t ever forget this feeling right now.”

“Go celebrate with your families,” Glinda concludes. “We’re gonna get absolutely trashed tonight so stay hydrated.” The team loses it, cheering, laughing, clapping Glinda on the back. She hugs her players, jumps into Milla’s arms, congratulates Morrible.

And then she’s peeling off from the group, jogging back over towards the corner flag, towards Elphaba. Her parents aren’t in the stands and she needs to celebrate with someone, wants to celebrate with her.

So Glinda takes off towards the sprinter, ecstasy overcoming exhaustion, until she’s just a few steps away. And honestly, she didn’t know she was going to kiss her, she didn’t plan on it. But suddenly Glinda is in Elphaba’s arms and is pulling her inelegantly into a bruising kiss.

Elphaba wastes no time kissing her back, all lips and teeth and hands grasping at Glinda’s jaw. They spend several long seconds entirely wrapped up in one another before Elphaba pulls back, seemingly remembering that, not only are they in public, but they are likely being broadcast live around the world.

Glinda doesn’t care. She pulls Elphaba back into her for a short, significantly more chaste kiss. Even still, something electric hums inside her. When Glinda pulls far enough away to look Elphaba in the eye, the green girl is grinning wildly.

“I bet you look really good in gold,” Elphaba drawls, eyes sparkling.

Glinda laughs at the entire situation, Elphaba still somehow flirting with her. “You’re coming to the after-party,” Glinda tells her. It’s not a question.

“Text me the address,” Elphaba replies, face still just inches from the striker, though the proximity is halfway out of necessity if they’re to hear each other over the clamor of the crowd. “Congrats, G. You’re incredible,” she says, voice filled with awe.

Glinda kisses her again, she can’t help it. It’s quick and casual and makes it seem like they’ve done this before.

“Go celebrate with your team,” Elphaba says, shoving Glinda lightly back towards the field. “And take this.” Elphaba takes the American flag off from where it had rested on her shoulders and pulls it tight around Glinda. She’s not sure where Elphaba got the flag but a small part of her hopes it’s the same one she had worn when she won the 200.

Glinda finally takes a step back, pausing to look up to Elphaba’s long jumper friend, “Thanks for coming, Boq,” she says to him and watches as he sputters out a response, eyes wide with surprise that Glinda would both recognize and talk to him.

The blonde just laughs before turning back to Elphaba, giving her hand a last quick squeeze. “I’ll see you tonight,” Glinda promises, jogging back to the pitch, Elphaba’s flag draped across her shoulders.

_________

@an_okay_time: HOLY SHIT look at that kiss god is real

@gaylindupland: Someone needs to tell Glinda Upland and Elphaba Thropp to keep it pg13 those girls were MAKING out

@gaylindaupland: just to be clear i am not complaining

@rightsidestrongside: hard launch of the century

@positivelyemerald: could they be any more in love?????? look how they look at each other.

@espn: Glinda Upland celebrates with a fan after scoring game-winning goal in gold medal match.

@an_okay_time: @espn are you fucking serious?

@heart_thropp: has anyone gone viral as many times in one Olympic games as @e_thropp ? she’s everywhere

_________

The medal ceremony takes a while and all anyone wants to do is go back to the locker room and start uncorking bottles of champagne.

Instead, the entire team is still out on the pitch, stepping onto the large podium hand in hand. No one has left the stadium and the crowd cheers with renewed vigor as the athletes each bow to have gold medals placed around their necks.

Glinda remembers the Toyko Olympics, watching from the lowest pedestal as the Canadian team was awarded their medals. Even at the time she knew that a bronze medal was a huge achievement - but in a tournament-style sport, being in third place wasn’t simply being the third-most winner: it meant you had lost. And a medal for losing didn’t feel nearly as good as a medal for winning, it turns out.

Glinda turns to Milla who says what they’re all thinking: “This is insanely fucking cool.” Her voice is full of excitement and admiration as she examines the medal hanging from her neck.

Someone says a few words and finally, they’re done. Their Olympics are over. They won. Glinda leads her team back into the locker room which has been covered in plastic sheeting to avoid ruining everything with champagne. Ski goggles and bottles of cheap champagne are passed around.

Before anyone can open a bottle, Glinda hops up on a chair for the last time.

“I promise I’m not going to make a speech!” She yells when the players start groaning good-naturedly. “I know we’re in France and the drinking age is lower but if anyone posts a video of Sarima getting shit-faced, we’ll all be in massive trouble with the US Soccer Federation,” she warns, pointing a strict finger at her players. “We will let the teenager drink but we will not post about it, understood?”

There’s a general murmur of assent and Glinda nods. “Okay now someone hand me a bottle because we just won the mother fuckin’ Olympics,” she sings.

She shakes the bottle vigorously, champagne spraying out over the room, over her teammates. It’s such a wasteful tradition but, my god is it fun, Glinda thinks. Everyone’s covered in sticky, sweet wine and then someone is cracking open beers and hooking up their phone to the speaker and suddenly is a party. The stress and the pressure of the last three weeks melting away under the weight of their gold medals.

Glinda slings her arm over Sarmia’s shoulder and clinks her beer can against the rookie’s. “I’m so proud of you,” she says over the loud music.

Sarima leans her head on Glinda’s shoulder, ski goggles hanging from her neck. “You’re the best, Upland. I’m lucky to be on this team with you.”

“It’s not luck, kid. You worked your ass off to be here. We’re gonna have a lot of fun up top together, I can feel it.” Glinda feels a surge of affection for the younger player. “Don’t drink too much, we have an entire other party to get to after this.”

Sarima stands and gives Glinda a pointed look, “You invite your hot sprinter?” She asks. “We all wanna meet her.”

Glinda rolls her eyes, “Yes, I invited my hot sprinter. She said she’d come.”

Milla takes this moment to poke her head into their conversation, “Oh, I bet she will.”

“If you weren’t my dearest friend in the entire world, I would smack you so hard right now.”

Milla laughs loudly, “Come on, girls, pack it up. There are drinks to be drunk, women to be kissed, dances to be done, and medals to be worn.”

_________

Apparently, the Team USA house doubles as an event space.

There’s a maze of rooms with a bar, a DJ, a whole dance floor. And it’s packed, the games are nearly over and most athletes are finished with their events, merely waiting for the closing ceremonies. So they’re all partying with the newly minded Olympic Champions, beer is flowing and the music is resonating throughout the building. It’s the most like a house party that Glinda’s been to in a long time. It’s fun.

She and her team dance together for a while, all still wearing their gold medals, clutching plastic cups of beer and tequila. The whole time, Glinda keeps one eye on the door for Elphaba.

Eventually, the blonde takes her leave of the dance floor, leaning against the bar, nursing a now-warm Budweiser. She’s chatting with a few other athletes, some guy who she thinks trains with Elphaba and is wearing his own medal - silver in the 100-meter relay (Glinda knows this because he hasn’t shut up about it). She listens to him talk for a while, not that interested in the conversation when from the other room, she hears a loud commotion, and then someone starts chanting.

“El-pha-ba, El-pha-ba, El-pha-ba.” The chant increases in both volume and speed the longer it goes on and suddenly the woman in question bursts into the room, flanked by Boq and most of the soccer team, still yelling her name. Elphaba is flushed a deep green, evident even in the dim light, and is holding a bottle of tequila up in the air like an offering, grin painted on her face as she finds Glinda’s eyes from across the room.

Milla emerges from the throng, “Glinda! We found your sprinter!”

Glinda just shakes her head and makes her way towards Elphaba who can’t help but laugh.

“What on earth are you wearing?” The runner asks. The ski goggles are still perched on top of her head, though Glinda thinks the champagne showers are probably over for now. She’s still in her game-worn shorts (if the grass stains are any indication) though the jersey had been lost at some point, replaced by a sports bra dotted with tiny American flags. Gold medal still resting against her chest.

“Elphie,” Glinda drawls, voice low, slipping easily into the green woman’s space, placing a hand on her hip, “are you really complaining?”

“Not one bit,” Elphaba says, her voice rumbling into the space between them. “How drunk are you?”

Glinda laughs and takes half a step back, the tension becoming too much for the situation. “Lightly tipsy. Though talking to your handsome but boring teammate over there did wonders to sober me up.”

Elphaba glances over Glinda’s shoulder. “Oof, you got stuck talking to Avaric? Sorry.”

“Don’t be, you’re here now and much more entertaining,” Glinda smirks, finally taking off the goggles. “But how drunk are you?”

“Not at all.”

“Tragic. Let’s change that,” Glinda quips, taking the bottle from Elphaba and walking back towards the bar. She motions to the bartender for two shot glasses and pours Elphaba’s gifted tequila.

Elphaba lifts her glass and knocks it against Glinda’s. “To winning gold medals,” she toasts.

“To being Olympic Champions,” Glinda replies, clinking the shot glass against the bartop before downing it with a grimace. “Fuck, I am getting too old for that,” Glinda says, shaking her head at the burn of the alcohol.

Elphaba just laughs and Glinda uses the corner of the bar to pop the cap off a bottle of beer before handing it to the green woman. “Catch up, babe,” Glinda demands, pulling Elphaba by her free hand to the dance floor.

Despite her long-limb-edness and general sense of social unease, Elphaba is actually not a bad dancer. She spends most of her time dancing with the blonde striker but occasionally when a teammate cuts in, Elphaba has no issue floating around the room, dancing with Boq or another one of the track athletes that she knows. But she always returns quickly to Glinda, free hand coming to hold her bare waist or rest against the curve of her shoulder.

Eventually though, Elphaba taps out, leaning against the wall and watching Glinda dance and sing and shout and generally just celebrate. Glinda catches glances of the runner as she continues to dance with her friends. She watches Elphaba finish her beer only to have it immediately replaced by Milla who has made it her official duty to carry around three bottles in each hand and ensure no one goes without. Milla says something that makes Elphaba throw her head back with laughter and Glinda sidles over to them.

The blonde tucks herself into Elphaba’s space, slotting their bodies together and leaning her head back onto the taller woman’s shoulder. It’s an act that suggests significantly more intimacy, more familiarity, than the two women actually have but Elphaba leans into it, circling an arm around Glinda’s waist nonchalantly.

“Milla here is just telling me that you called a team meeting to talk about how you slid into my DM’s,” Elphaba explains, gazing down at Glinda, eyebrow cocked.

“Absolutely not true,” Glinda defends without any real conviction. “And Milla, you’re cut off. Stop beer fairy-ing and go anywhere else.”

Milla merely smirks at Elphaba, giving her a quick fist bump as she leaves the room.

“Remind me not to have you two in a room together ever again,” Glinda half-jokes.

Elphaba laughs again, “You love her.”

“Deeply,” Glinda admits with a sigh. “Come on, come with me,” she says suddenly, dragging Elphaba along behind her through the house.

Glinda pulls the sprinter into an empty bathroom, pushing her against the door as it closes with a heavy thud, locking behind them. Despite Elphaba’s height advantage, she lets Glinda pin her. And then Elphaba is kissing her again, this time without the eyes of the world on them.

Glinda has to stretch up onto her toes to reach the taller woman, grasping at her sharp jaw, hands threaded into thick, dark hair. 

It’s entirely different than the kiss earlier. This is heat and passion and Elphaba’s hands go instinctually to Glinda’s waist, pulling the blonde into her. Glinda gasps against her lips and Elphaba takes the opportunity to slip her tongue into Glinda’s mouth, both women moaning deeply into each other.

“Fuck,” Glinda mutters as she pulls back slightly. Elphaba’s mouth goes immediately to her neck, leaving heavy kisses along the corner of her jaw and the length of her throat. Glinda’s hands untangle themselves from Elphaba’s hair and skim down her sides - desperate to touch her, she grabs the green woman’s hips, thumbs pressing into the skin above the waistband of her shorts.

Elphaba detaches herself from Glinda’s neck and searches her eyes. Under Elphaba’s hard gaze, Glinda has never felt so exposed before.

“Are you sober?” Elphaba asks her.

Glinda huffs out a laugh and pushes her hands further up beneath Elphaba’s shirt, feeling the defined muscles in her stomach jump at the contact. “Sober enough to know I want this, want you,” Glinda practically purrs.

It’s a sufficient enough answer for the sprinter. “Good,” she says quietly, tugging on the medal still slung around Glinda’s neck until their lips are connected once again, sound muffled by Glinda’s lips.

They kiss like people starved of each other.

Glinda sinks her teeth lightly into Elphaba’s bottom lip and Elphaba gasps into her mouth. Glinda swears she’ll spend the rest of her life trying over and over to elicit that sound from the green woman again. Elphaba pulls away only long enough to flip their position - using her height to pin Glinda against the door, hips holding her in place as she takes up again at Glinda’s neck, teeth grazing a fluttering pulse point.

Glinda should be embarrassed at the moans that Elphaba is pulling from her but she finds she can’t quite muster any thoughts that aren’t of the way the green woman is sucking a dark mark into the skin where shoulder meets neck. Elphaba’s hands roam over the exposed expanse of Glinda’s toned stomach, thumbs edging teasingly just below the elastic of her bra.

It’s too much and never enough. Glinda wants Elphaba everywhere.

“Elphie, please,” Glinda whines. Without wasting a moment, Elphaba simply grabs the back of Glinda’s thighs and hoists her up onto the counter. Elphaba takes half a step back, eyes running up and down, taking in the figure before her. She reaches out slowly, a sudden shift from the frenetic pace, and very gently takes the medal off from around Glinda’s neck, folds the ribbon, and places it softly down on the counter several feet away.

“Gotta keep that safe,” she whispers, stepping back in between Glinda’s knees.

Glinda’s hands grab at the soft muscle of Elphaba’s ass, pulling her in closer, and Elphaba hisses into her mouth.

Without a second thought, Glinda pulls Elphaba’s shirt up and over her head, tossing it behind her, palming the green woman through her bra.

Elphaba tugs gently at Glinda’s earlobe with her teeth. “You really want me to fuck you here in this bathroom instead of, I don’t know, a bed?” The sprinter asks, smile lacing her voice even as her face is hidden in the crook of Glinda’s neck.

“Obviously we’re going to do both, Elphaba,” Glinda says plainly, taking matters into her own hands and pulling off her bra, bringing Elphaba’s hands to her chest. “Now touch me, please.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Elphaba drawls, mouth already closing around a nipple, sucking and lavishing with her tongue while green fingers pinch at the other.

Glinda’s head falls back against the mirror with a soft thunk and a loud groan.

“You’re so pretty,” Elphaba mumbles, mouth still preoccupied. Her hands skate up Glinda’s thighs, below the hem of her shorts, and the blonde shivers involuntarily. Elphaba moves to Glinda’s other nipple but not before sucking a dark mark into the skin under her breast. “Tell me what you need, my sweet,” Elphaba says softly between kisses and Glinda melts at the unexpected term of endearment.

Glinda threads her fingers into Elphaba’s black hair, bringing her back up to Glinda’s face. “I have wanted this for so long, please just touch me, baby.” Elphaba makes a sound that Glinda can feel in her chest more than hear. She leans in and kisses the blonde much more tenderly than the situation calls for, and Glinda stutters at the change of pace.

Elphaba pulls back slightly, keeping her forehead pressed to Glinda's, and brings her first two fingers slowly to her own mouth, never breaking eye contact. Glinda can feel the heat pooling low and tight in her stomach as Elphaba undoes the drawstring of Glinda’s shorts with her other hand and draws her fingers out of her mouth.

Glinda gasps softly and pulls Elphaba back into her, kissing her hard.

Elphaba’s hand works its way into Glinda’s loose soccer shorts and doesn’t even bother to tease her, simply slipping into Glinda’s warmth. They both groan at the contact, Glinda briefly breaking the kiss to gasp into Elphaba’s mouth as deft fingers gather wetness, teasing Glinda’s entrance.

“Fuck, Elphaba. Yes, baby,” Glinda incants as Elphaba sinks two fingers into the blonde.

The angle isn’t ideal but neither cares. Glinda throws her head back, Elphaba’s name falling off her lips. The green woman licks her way up the column of Glinda’s pale throat, nipping and kissing, her free hand brushing lightly over sensitive nipples as Glinda’s hips twitch forward on their own accord.

“God, you feel so good,” Elphaba praises as she curls her fingers precisely, mouth resting against the shell of Glinda’s ear. Glinda lifts her hips slightly and Elphaba takes the cue, thumb swiping over her clit as Glinda curses breathily.

Elphaba returns to sucking on her nipple, scraping lightly with her teeth, while her fingers bury into the blonde woman.

“Harder,” Glinda demands, panting, clutching at Elphaba’s strong arms, her neck, her back, anything she can hold. The runner obliges, thrusting harder and faster into her as Glinda feels herself inching closer to her orgasm.

“Fuck, Elphie. I –“

“I know, baby,” Elphaba says with unending tenderness. “Come for me. Please.”

The juxtaposition between the deep curl of her fingers and the gentle tone of her voice is enough to send Glinda over the edge. Her body pulls taut, mouth open and soundless, eyes screwed tight. Elphaba holds her, fingers still moving inside her, working her through her orgasm. She’s whispering but Glinda can barely hear it over the roar of blood in her ears, “So good, I got you. You’re so fucking pretty.”

Glinda comes back to herself and grabs Elphaba’s wrist, slowing her finally.

Elphaba carefully removes her fingers, and Glinda sighs at the emptiness, chest still flushed and heaving. Elphaba licks her fingers clean and Glinda is nearly embarrassed by how easily that turns her on again. But Elphaba just rests her hands on either side of Glinda, leaning against her, placing a surprisingly chaste kiss to her shoulder before burying her face into blonde curls.

Glinda brings her hands to Elphaba’s back, painting idle patterns with her fingertips while they both catch their breath.

“Is there anything you’re not good at?” Glinda asks when her breathing evens out finally.

She feels Elphaba huff out a laugh. “Uh… Math?” Elphaba says, screwing her face up against Glinda’s neck.

Glinda smacks her playfully. “You’re impossible.”

Elphaba pulls back, a faux affronted look on her face. “Wow,” she says, hand coming dramatically to her heart. “All that and not even a thank you? You wound me, Upland.”

Glinda hops down from the counter, trying to conceal the shake of her legs. “Actually, looks like you wounded me,” she says, examining the various spots blooming across her chest and neck in the mirror. “My god, woman. You don’t need to mark your territory so aggressively.”

Elphaba has the good sense to look sheepish, hand running across the back of her neck. “I may have gotten a little carried away.”

Glinda turns to face her and reaches out to run her fingertips across her defined abs. “Would you like to get carried away again somewhere else? Somewhere with a bed, maybe?”

Elphaba laughs, “Hey, I offered a bed well before we began.”

“What can I say,” Glinda smirks, putting her American flag bra back on. “I’m not known for my patience.”

“Clearly.”

“Here, put this on,” Glinda tosses Elphaba’s shirt to her as she puts her medal back around her neck. “Time to face the music.”

Elphaba balks, shirt only halfway on, “What do you mean?”

Glinda laughs and steps back into her space. “Elphaba, we just disappeared into a bathroom for 20 minutes. Anyone who doesn’t think we’re fucking is delusional,” Glinda says. “Also, I don’t even think I showed up here wearing a shirt so all this,” she gestures to the hickeys on her chest, “is about to be on full display.”

Elphaba nods seriously. “So is there a back way out or…?”

Glinda pulls her into a soft kiss. “Nope. Front door. Let the people see your handiwork.”

_________

They walk out of the Team House to cheers and jeers alike, Glinda’s teammates catcalling and whistling at them as they make their way through the throngs of people. Elphaba blushes dark green but Glinda just laughs, waving to her friends on the way out.

Stepping into the warm night air, they stroll through the quiet Village.

“So that’s what a walk of shame feels like,” Elphaba says.

Glinda pretends to take offense, “Excuse me, are you ashamed?”

Even though Elphaba knows it’s a joke, she stops Glinda and pulls her into a tender kiss in the middle of the empty sidewalk. “Absolutely not.”

They continue their walk, knuckles brushing against each other with each stride but otherwise not touching. Glinda had said the team hotel was near and she leads Elphaba out of the Village and onto the streets of Paris.

(“I’m not fucking you in one of those Olympic Village cardboard beds, though, Elphie.” Glinda said as they finished re-dressing.

Elphaba just looked at her, “Well what else would you propose, another bathroom?”

“We’re staying in a hotel like three blocks from here - they didn’t have space in the Village for us,” Glinda explained, fixing her hair in the mirror.

“You haven’t been staying in the Village?”

“No,” Glinda repeated. “And you’re awfully focused on the logistics of our lodging instead of the fact that I have an entire queen bed that isn’t made of cardboard. Let’s go there, please.”)

At some point on their short walk, Elphaba inverts her hand and intertwines her fingers with Glinda’s. It’s easy and uncomplicated, and Glinda doesn’t say anything, so Elphaba holds her hand until they reach Glinda’s room.

Elphaba whistles, looking around at the hotel room, “Damn, they’re really pulling out all the stops for America’s sweethearts, huh?”

“Yeah, turns out when you’re banished to the South of France the first few weeks, they make up for it in accommodations,” Glinda jokes, setting her phone and keys down on the nightstand. She turns to Elphaba, “I need to shower since I’m covered in champagne, you coming?”

Elphaba smirks, “Not yet but the night is still young.”

Glinda blinks several times and shakes her head. “I can’t believe I’m attracted to you. Get in the shower, Elphaba.”

They undress each other slowly while the shower gets hot, steam slowly filling the room. If Elphaba had any reservations about her green skin when they’d first started talking, they had all but evaporated now as she lets Glinda peel her shirt off again, the rest of her clothes following shortly.

Glinda can’t help but stare in awe at the woman before her, gaze running up and down her naked form, hands following close behind. Elphaba steps into the shower, holding her hand out for Glinda to follow. Elphaba pours a tiny hotel bottle of soap into her hands, helping Glinda rinse away the sticky champagne residue of her locker room celebrations. They poke fun at each other lightly, trading kisses in between.

Glinda is again struck by how much this doesn’t feel like a hookup - not that she wanted it to be but there’s something undeniably genuine about the way they’ve come to care for each other.

They take their time, hands wandering over newly exposed expanses of skin, Glinda cognizant of the scrape still healing on Elphaba’s leg. She feels Elphaba’s fingertips trace the lines of the intricate tattoo she can’t see. There’s an earnestness to Elphaba’s touch that Glinda didn’t expect, a softness to her that the blonde finds endearing. She leans up to kiss the taller woman and soon they’ve lost track of time, tongue and teeth and lips finding each other.

Gently, Glinda nudges Elphaba back and out of the spray of water, hands becoming bolder, touches becoming more intentional. Elphaba’s back hits the far wall and Glinda goes about evening the score, pressing open-mouthed kisses into damp skin, thumbs brushing teasingly over her nipples.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” Glinda whispers before sucking a dark green mark into her neck. Elphaba moans but whether from the compliment or the caress, Glinda can’t say so she continues both. Kissing along the jut of her collarbone, the low swell of her breast, the hard plane of her stomach, Glinda murmurs into her skin like a mantra: “You’re stunning,” “I’ve wanted you for ages,” “You’re so fucking hot.” Elphaba’s breath grows shallower with each admission as Glinda kisses her way down the green woman’s strong body.

Eventually, Glinda kneels on the hard tile of the shower but she finds she doesn’t care, wanting only to put her mouth on Elphaba. She looks up at the taller woman who meets her gaze, eyes dark with desire, one hand bracing against the wall, the other tangled loosely in blonde curls.

“I want to taste you,” Glinda whispers reverently and without pretense, pressing a soft kiss to the inside of Elphaba’s thigh. The green girl just nods and almost imperceptibly tightens her grip in Glinda’s hair - not pushing or guiding, just grounding.

Glinda smiles into her skin, leaving one last teasing kiss before dipping her head and dragging her tongue slowly through Elphaba’s gathering wetness. She hears Elphaba moan loudly above her, head falling back against the shower wall as Glinda continues her ministrations. I could stay here forever, Glinda thinks idly, tongue running tight circles around Elphaba’s clit, hand coming to grab at her ass.

“Up,” Glinda commands after a while, voice muffled, and tugs at Elphaba’s uninjured leg. The other woman gets the hint and throws her leg over Glinda’s shoulder, giving the blonde a better angle. “Good girl,” Glinda praises, glancing up to see the dark flush rise in Elphaba’s chest as she continues to lavish her, hips canting on their own accord.

At some point, Glinda’s tongue is joined by deft fingers, curling into the green woman while she sucks teasing kisses to her clit. It’s not long before Glinda feels Elphaba tighten around her fingers and she redoubles her efforts with her tongue until every perfect muscle in Elphaba’s lithe body flexes and she falls apart, Glinda’s name choked out into the humid air.

Glinda pulls herself up from the shower floor, pinning the green woman against the wall, doing half the work to keep her upright as Elphaba finds her legs and her breath again.

Eventually, green fingers gently lift Glinda’s chin as Elphaba connects their lips, bodies still pressed together. Elphaba moans softly at the taste of herself on Glinda’s mouth and the blonde can’t help but smirk.

Without speaking, they finish rinsing, turn the shower off, and help each other out, hands rarely leaving each other.

Elphaba is drying her long hair with a fresh towel when Glinda backs her into the bathroom counter again, sly grin slowly crossing her face. Elphaba puts the towel down and lets herself be trapped in place by Glinda’s hips, green hands going to rest at Glinda’s shoulders, playing with the ends of her damp hair.

“I know I’ve got a fairly small sample size,” Elphaba starts, eyes bright with suppressed laughter, “but do you really only have sex in bathrooms?”

Glinda ignores the question and kisses the sprinter soundly, tongue licking at Elphaba’s bottom lip but pulling back playfully when Elphaba chases her mouth. The green woman pouts and Glinda just laughs, loud and clear - she tugs at the towel wrapped around Glinda until it pools onto the ground.

“Why don’t you take me to bed, then?” Glinda smirks, pressing even closer to Elphaba.

“Gladly,” Elphaba smiles and picks the smaller woman up without pretense, Glinda’s legs immediately wrapping around her waist and her hands settling appreciatively on Elphaba’s toned arms.

“Show off,” Glinda mutters, taking advantage of their position and leaving open-mouthed kisses against Elphaba’s long neck as she’s carried into the bedroom.

“Don’t pretend you don’t like it,” the green woman chastizes, but Glinda can hear the hitch in her voice as her teeth drag over a sensitive spot.

Elphaba sets her down gently on the bed, coming to lay languidly between Glinda’s legs. “I like it very much,” Glinda says, still running her hands across broad shoulders and muscular biceps. “I like you very much,” she whispers.

Chapter Text

July 2024

She’s not even sure how it happened.

Logically, Elphaba knew that this would lead here - she knew that all their flirting, all their phone calls and texting, would eventually land them in the same physical proximity. What she didn’t expect was a dimly lit public bathroom fuck followed by a much more intimate, tender moment in a private shower (followed by a less tender but no less intimate fuck).

What Elphaba didn’t expect was for Glinda to still be in front of her, wanting her, letting Elphaba pull her towel off, replacing fabric with a strong hand curled around her waist, and carrying Glinda into bed.

“Show off,” the blonde mocks as Elphaba lifts her by the thighs, carrying her into the other room. Elphaba doesn’t miss how quickly Glinda’s hands find purchase in the defined muscles of her arms though.

Elphaba opens her mouth to quip back at her but finds her breath stuttering when Glinda’s teeth nip against a particularly sensitive spot on her neck. “Don’t pretend you don’t like it,” Elphaba manages to breathe out, laying Glinda out on the bed.

The blonde woman hums, “I like it very much.” Elphaba slots herself in between her strong legs, propped up with one arm, Glinda still running her hands appreciatively over Elphaba’s shoulders. “I like you very much,” she admits.

Elphaba brings her free hand up to cup Glinda’s jaw, thumb brushing lightly over her cheek. “I like you, too,” Elphaba says softly, trying to convey everything she doesn’t know how to verbalize with the weight of her gaze.

“Come here, baby,” Glinda whispers, and Elphaba, who normally bristles at being called a pet name, absolutely melts when it falls so naturally out of Glinda’s mouth. She lets Glinda pull her in again, lips finding each other easily.

It’s only a matter of time before the kisses become more heated, more frantic, hands roaming with more purpose. Soon, Elphaba’s face is buried in between Glinda’s legs, urging her towards her second orgasm of the evening. Soon, Glinda’s back is arching off the mattress, body pulled bow-taut as she calls Elphaba’s name out in breathless gasps.

Elphaba swipes a thumb under her lip as she crawls back up the bed toward Glinda, settling against her as though the space had been carved out expressly for her. She rests a hand against Glinda’s bare sternum, watching the rise and fall of her chest as she catches her breath. Elphaba thinks she could be content to lay like this forever, gazing at the profile of this beautiful woman, flushed and smiling lazily at her.

“This was maybe the coolest day of my entire life,” Glinda says after a time, only partially joking, head turning to look at Elphaba.

Elphaba traces the elegant lines of Glinda’s body with deference, following the dips and planes of her form with gentle fingertips. “How so?” she asks softly.

Glinda chuckles tiredly but genuinely. “I mean, I score a gold-medal-winning goal and I get to go down on the hottest woman I’ve ever seen?” Elphaba laughs at her, smacking her lightly on the shoulder. “That kinda sounds like a pretty good day to me,” Glinda concludes.

“Doesn’t sound half bad, Upland.”

Glinda screws up her face, “Don’t call me ‘Upland’ when we’re naked.”

Elphaba laughs again, “Isn’t that your name?”

“Yeah, but that’s what everyone calls me, what all the fans call me,” Glinda explains.

“Hmm. Have you considered that I might be your biggest fan?” Elphaba jests. “Especially after your performance in the shower.”

Glinda sighs dramatically, “You’re a fucking menace, Elphaba.”

“I have it on good authority that you actually quite like me.”

“Not anymore,” Glinda announces. “You’re too smug.”

Elphaba just rolls her eyes, hooks her arm over Glinda’s waist, and with one strong tug, pulls the blonde woman into her arms. “Fine by me,” Elphaba says, grinning. “I like you enough for the both of us.”

As the night falls into the forward edge of morning, Elphaba watches Glinda fight a losing battle against her exhaustion.

“Didn’t you play an entire soccer match earlier today?” Elphaba asks as Glinda struggles to keep her eyes open.

“Hmm,” the blonde hums. “Yes, and I won.”

Elphaba smiles and kisses the side of her head, “That you did, my sweet. But don’t you think you should get a bit of sleep?”

Glinda shakes her head, eyes fluttering shut despite her protests. “No,” she mumbles, “wanna stay here with you.”

Elphaba huffs out a quiet laugh and reaches over the blonde to turn the dim light off. “I’ll be here,” she promises. “Go to sleep.”

Glinda doesn’t need to be told another time, turning and burying her face against Elphaba’s shoulder. “G’night, Elphie,” Glinda says, exhaustion slurring her speech. “‘m glad you’re here.”

Elphaba presses another lingering kiss to her temple, “Me too, G.”

_________

Elphaba wakes slowly and notices two things simultaneously. The first is that she doesn’t entirely know where she is but she knows she has a headache. The second is that there’s a warmth and a weight slung across her chest.

It takes a few more moments of blinking against the harsh morning light to remember everything that happened last night: the party, the tequila, the bathroom all come into focus as Elphaba wakes more fully. She remembers more: the shared shower, Glinda’s fingers buried inside her, her head between Glinda’s thighs, falling asleep to the steady whisper of her breath.

Which explains the weight on her. Glinda still sleeps soundly, her arm flung across Elphaba, face pressed into her shoulder. In the clear light of morning, Elphaba is struck anew by how beautiful she is. She aches to touch the woman but doesn’t want to wake her so she just lays, content to feel the steady rise and fall of her breathing as the sun rises higher.

By the time Elphaba extracts herself from Glinda’s sleep-heavy grip, it’s nearing 10 am and she’s desperate for a coffee, still battling a light hangover.

She spends a few moments gathering her clothes that had been strewn around the room the night before. Elphaba grabs Glinda’s keys and a US Soccer hat that she’d never seen Glinda wear before quietly slipping out the door.

Elphaba isn’t gone long. Just enough time to stop by her place in the Village to change her shirt and contacts and then she guesses at Glinda’s coffee order in a cafe across from her hotel.

When she gets off the elevator at the hotel, a coffee in each hand, she hears a hushed conversation down the hall. Elphaba turns the corner to see Glinda standing with her back to her in the threshold of an open door across from Glinda’s own room. She’s wearing sweats and a tank top and gesturing animatedly to whoever is in the doorway - Elphaba thinks it’s Milla.

As she gets closer, Elphaba can begin to make out the conversation.

“– just fucking left, I don’t know what happened,” Elphaba can barely hear Glinda say. “No note, no text, no nothing. I mean, the sex was insanely good and then I’m pretty sure she spent the night but now I’m just confused.”

Elphaba’s heart jumps to her throat as she realizes what Glinda’s saying. The blonde shifts slightly and suddenly Elphaba catches Milla’s eye over Glinda’s shoulder and Elphaba can see the breath of relief that Milla exhales.

Glinda’s still talking as her friend tries to interrupt.

“I don’t understand –“

“Glin–“

“– I mean, I really like her. This isn’t some passing thing –“

“Glinda.”

“I know, it’s insane–“

“No, Glin listen–“

“I really do want to be with her. I might like, genuinely be falling for her.”

Elphaba’s breath catches.

“Glinda, shut the fuck up,” Milla finally says sternly. Glinda does. “She didn’t go anywhere.” Milla presses two fingers to her brow and then gestures to where Elphaba is standing silently in the middle of the hall.

Glinda swivels around, eyes wide.

Elphaba mouths a silent “thank you” to Milla as she closes the door and then it’s just the two of them in the hallway.

“Hi,” Elphaba says dumbly.

“How much of that did you hear?” Glinda asks nervously.

“Uh - I tuned in about when you told her the sex was insanely good,” Elphaba admits.

Glinda opens her mouth to say something but nothing comes out, she just stands, staring at the green woman, mouth agape. “It was,” is all Glinda manages.

“I know. Listen,” Elphaba says, stepping forward, “we don’t have to talk about this right now.”

Glinda just nods. “Where did you go?” she asks, voice uncharacteristically small.

Elphaba holds up the two coffee cups and nods her head towards Glinda’s room. She stacks the cups on top of each other and fishes the borrowed keys from her pocket, letting them back in.

“I took your keys and your hat,” Elphaba says with a gentle smile when the door closes behind them. “Did you think I spent the night just to rob you?”

“I wasn’t thinking anything,” Glinda admits.

“Clearly,” Elphaba says without malice. She hands Glinda her coffee, leaning down to kiss her chastely, “I don’t know what you drink so I had to guess. Oat milk latte?”

“Ohh, so close. Oat milk flat white.”

“How European of you,” Elphaba mocks. She leans against the desk and gestures for Glinda to come closer, taking her hand. “I should have left a note,” Elphaba says, her voice turning serious. “I didn’t think I’d be gone long and you were dead asleep. But that was lame of me, I should have known how it would look to wake up alone.”

Glinda brings their joined hands to her lips and presses a kiss to Elphaba’s knuckles. “Sorry,” she says sheepishly. “I lightly panicked.”

“We’re good,” Elphaba assures her, smiling. “I just needed coffee very badly. If I’m hungover, I can only imagine how you feel.”

“I’ve certainly felt better,” Glinda admits, holding up her coffee cup. “Thank you for this though. Sorry you had to hear all that,” she waves her hand in the direction of the hallway.

Elphaba kisses her again, softly, surely. “We can talk about the rest of your freak-out later but for now, we’re going to sit on your fancy Parisian balcony and drink your not-flat-white until my headache subsides. Okay?”

They do.

The rest of the morning and well into the afternoon is spent lounging in the sun, coffees long since finished. Glinda throws her legs across Elphaba’s lap and the green woman draws lazy patterns against the fabric of her pants, happy to simply be in her presence.

They talk about all kinds of things: Elphaba starting a new semester when she returns to Boston, Glinda’s break before the club season resumes, the end of the games later in the week.

Glinda sighs, “I’m not looking forward to the Closing Ceremonies,” she says honestly.

“Why not?” Elphaba asks.

“Well, for one, it’s insanely boring. Think Opening Ceremonies but worse. And two, they’re making me carry the flag!” Glinda exclaims.

“Hold up,” Elphaba stops her. “You’re the flag bearer for the Closing Ceremonies?”

“One of them,” Glinda says, groaning.

“And you’re upset about that?”

Glinda thinks for a moment, “Not upset, necessarily. I just don’t really want that attention.”

Elphaba balks at her. “You’re going to be the most talked-about athlete there - whether or not you’re holding the flag.”

Glinda shakes her head, “I don’t know, Thropp. You might be giving me a run for my money at these games.”

“Yeah, people are talking about me because you decided to make out with me on national television. I’m only interesting by proximity to you.”

“Not true,” Glinda asserts, waving her hand. “And I didn’t decide to make out with you, it just happened.”

“What could that possibly mean?” Elphaba deadpans.

“I was just so excited and then you were there looking insanely hot. It couldn’t be helped,” Glinda explains matter-of-factly.

Elphaba hums, “I’m sure.” She stands abruptly, Glinda’s legs falling from where they had been folded across the green girl’s lap.

“Hey!” Glinda squawks, indignant.

Elphaba holds out and hand and pulls Glinda to her feet, wrapping long arms around the blonde’s shoulders as she stands. “Come on, it’s nap time.” Elphaba walks Glinda slowly backward until the back of her knees hit the edge of the bed. She makes quick work of taking off the blonde’s shirt and then her own, pulling Glinda into bed with her.

“You’re very demanding,” Glinda says plainly.

Elphaba shakes her head, placing a kiss to Glinda’s shoulder. “Nope. I’m tired and a big proponent of a midafternoon nap,” she says, pulling Glinda’s back flush with her bare chest, arm going to circle her waist.

_________

Elphaba wakes an hour later on her back, Glinda’s lithe body pressing her into the mattress, her mouth working against Elphaba’s neck.

“Mmm, what’re you doing?” Elphaba asks, sleep still heavy in her voice.

Glinda moves lower and takes a nipple into her mouth. “Got bored,” she explains, tongue swirling across Elphaba’s chest. “Want me to stop?” she asks, cloyingly.

Elphaba’s hand goes involuntarily to Glinda’s hair. “No, please don’t,” she whispers, nearly begging.

Glinda hums against her skin and Elphaba feels the sound resonate deep in her chest.

Glinda takes her time. The night before had been frenetic - delirious and wild, losing oneself to the other. This was nearly lazy, movements slowed by sleep and the warmth from the open windows. Elphaba let herself fall open, pliant underneath Glinda’s mouth and hands.

“Good girl,” Glinda sighs, lips and tongue tracing the well-defined ab muscles, and Elphaba preens, melting further into her touch. Glinda leaves a darkening mark just below Elphaba’s sharp hip, drawing unholy sounds from the green woman, before dipping her head once more and parting her with a deft tongue.

It’s slow and soft and when Glinda presses into her, Elphaba finds herself thinking about the many ways she wants Glinda Upland. Glinda dips her tongue into Elphaba and feels her shutter at the sensation. Glinda moans deeply and Elphaba swears it vibrates through her every cell. 

“Fuck, Glinda.” Elphaba breathes, hips canting on their own accord.

Glinda takes her time, licking and sucking and swiping until Elphaba is rendered putty beneath her, breath stuttering and shaky. All it takes is one last expert flash of her tongue and Glinda has the green woman coming undone completely, back arching off the bed, hands fisted in the sheets, obscene moans falling from her lips.

Elphaba watches with something akin to reverence as the other woman makes a show of wiping her chin across her forearm and placing a too-gentle kiss to the inside of Elphaba’s thigh.

“You look so hot when you come,” Glinda says, voice low and dangerous, eyes sparkling and Elphaba is nearly embarrassed by how deeply she blushes.

They spend the rest of the day wrapped up in each other, never more than a few inches away. Elphaba feels a sense of urgency to memorize the blonde, wants to be sure she’s properly using the limited time they have together. They haven’t talked about what happens when the games end. Elphaba knows Glinda has to return to London and she has to go back to school herself. She knows there’s a five-hour time difference between Boston and London, she knows that a relationship wasn’t something they had discussed, much less a long-distance relationship.

She also knows she wants something with Glinda.

_________

The next morning, after another shared shower, this time in Elphaba’s small, Olympic Village room, Glinda makes good on her promise to take Elphaba out.

Which is how they find themselves zipping through the streets of Paris on a two-seater moped, Elphaba, citing a rebellious streak spent riding a motorcycle, drives, and Glinda clings tightly to her waist, pointing out directions as they get further and further from the city center.

After a time, Glinda motions to Elphaba to pull over on a quiet side street in a neighborhood Elphaba had never been to before.

“How do you know about this place?” Elphaba asks as she holds the door open to a small coffee shop.

Glinda hums, “I’m known to wander,” she says, as though that explained how she ended up in a tiny cafe in Paris.

Glinda buys Elphaba a coffee in broken French and they sit needlessly close to one another at a small bistro table on the cobblestone sidewalk. They’re far enough away from the Olympics chaos that no one is stopping them for photos or autographs. It’s just them and for the first time, it actually feels like a real date.

Elphaba holds Glinda’s hand below the table and plays idly with her fingers. Now that she’s not playing soccer, Glinda wears a few small rings, one of which is what sparked engagement rumors around the French boyfriend, Elphaba remembers.

She knows they’re not actually in a relationship but she asks anyway.

“So what happened with you and that French guy?” Elphaba wonders.

“Fiyero? Nothing major, he’s a big name in football, I’m a big name in football. It made sense at the time but it didn’t last,” Glinda explains without fanfare. “Why do you ask?”

“No real reason,” Elphaba says. “It’s just that when I looked you up, his name was everywhere. You guys were engaged?”

“Is this jealousy, I’m sensing?” Glinda teases.

Elphaba clicks her tongue, “Not jealous, just curious.”

Glinda lets it slide. “Not engaged. My grandma passed a few years ago and I finally got around to wearing some of her jewelry. This,” she gestures to her ring finger, “was my favorite but it only fits on this finger. But when the press saw a ring, they assumed we were engaged.”

“But you weren’t?” Elphaba clarifies.

“No, Elphaba. We were already basically broken up so we resolved the rumors and then publicly broke up. Really not all that exciting,” Glinda says. “Sorry to disappoint.”

Elphaba hums. “Why did you break up?”

“Do you want the honest answer or the canned answer I give to the press?”

“Definitely the lie,” Elphaba deadpans.

Glinda laughs lightly. “Well, we’ve just been saying that it didn’t work out. That we’re still friends but the relationship ran its course. Which is true,” she says. “But the more honest answer is that, it took me a while, but I realized I probably liked women more than I was willing to admit.”

Elphaba arches an eyebrow at the blonde. She continues, “He was great about it. Actually, I think you’d probably like him a lot. But I told him I was most likely a lot closer to being gay than bi and he took it well, told me I could stay with him as long as I needed - until I was ready to be myself more fully.”

“I think I probably would like him, you’re right,” Elphaba smiles, glad that Glinda had someone like that in her corner.

“Yeah,” Glinda muses, “he’s a good one. So we kept up the act for a little while but then I bucked up and we broke up. Still dear friends though.”

“I’m happy to hear that,” Elphaba says, genuinely.

“So you have nothing to be concerned about, I’m all yours,” she says. Elphaba knows she’s at least partially joking but she can’t help the swoop of her heart at Glinda’s words. “What about you?” Glinda interrupts her musing.

“What about me?”

“Anyone I need to be concerned about?”

Elphaba laughed mirthlessly, “That would be a no.”

“Come on,” Glinda goads. “There’s no way you’re this pretty and haven’t broken a few hearts.”

Elphaba gives the blonde a loaded look and sips at her americano without answering immediately. Glinda lets the silence permeate until Elphaba responds.

“I mean… there were people,” she starts. “But nothing significant. Nothing lasting.”

“Why not?”

Elphaba sighs. “I think people have always been intrigued by me. I’m green, I’m fast.”

“You’re hot,” Glinda interrupts unhelpfully.

Elphaba ignores the intrusion. “But it doesn't get far because eventually, people have to deal with the reality of what it means to date a green person and they’re all a lot less intrigued by that.”

Glinda cocks her head in a way that makes Elphaba’s heart melt. “And what is the reality of dating a green person?” She asks.

“It’s a lot of stares and whispers.”

Glinda hums, considering her answer. “Does that bother you?”

“Not so much anymore,” Elphaba says. “I’m mostly used to it. The comments from the announcers and interviewers were new and that definitely got to me but that comes with the territory - I’m constantly learning to get over it.”

Glinda reaches out and pushes another strand of hair out of Elphaba’s face. It wasn’t even in the way but Elphaba is coming to understand that Glinda doesn’t need an excuse to touch her.

“If it doesn't bother you, it won’t bother me,” Glinda says, matter-of-factly. “And I’m also someone that a lot of people stare and whisper at - different reason but it still happens. Does that bother you?”

“Not at all.”

Glinda smiles brightly, perking up. “Great! That settles that.”

“That settles what?” Elphaba asks.

“Well, if I’m not bothered by ‘the reality of dating a green person,’” she says with air quotes around Elphaba’s phrase, “then we should probably just date.”

Elphaba blinks back her surprise, unsure of how exactly Glinda made that leap in logic.

“But - we don’t even live on the same continent?” Elphaba argues.

Glinda leans in and places a very soft kiss onto Elphaba’s lips. “Elphie, that’s fine. We can figure it out as we go. I’m not asking you to move in and get married,” she chuckles lightly. “But I really like you. I want to see where this goes. And maybe it doesn’t go anywhere - maybe it’s just a really fun fling we had at the Olympics but, if you want to, I want to try. I want to give this a chance.”

There’s a vulnerability and earnestness to her voice that takes Elphaba by surprise. She’d heard what Glinda had confessed to Milla when she didn’t realize Elphaba was listening, “I might genuinely be falling for her.” And here she was, telling Elphaba she wanted to try.

There was only one answer in Elphaba’s mind. “Then let’s try,” she tells Glinda, kissing her back.

Glinda pulls back, eyes glinting with a type of mischief Elphaba is just beginning to know. “What are you doing after this?”

“My god, woman,” Elphaba laughs. “You’re insatiable!”

Glinda smacks her playfully on the shoulder. “That’s not what I meant. After the Olympics, what are you doing?”

Elphaba grabs her hand and kisses the knuckle. “I got permission to stay in the Village until the Paralympics are over. So I’m just going to kick it in Paris for two weeks, then watch Nessa’s events. I have to be back in Boston by early September,” she shrugs.

Glinda’s smile turns even brighter. “Come with me.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t thought that far. But you have two weeks between Closing Ceremonies and your sister's events, right?” Elphaba nods. “Spend it with me.”

“Okay,” Elphaba nods again, grin growing wider by the second. “Name a time and place, I’ll be there,” she promises.

They finish their drinks slowly, brainstorming places they could spend the next couple weeks together:

“Oh! We could go to California - I owe my parents a visit,” Glinda suggests.

“California is very far from here,” Elphaba reasons. “Also we’ve been going out for 15 minutes, you’re really going to introduce me to your parents?”

“They’d love you but fair point,” Glinda concedes. “What if you came back to London with me?”

“That’s not a vacation for you, then.”

Glinda huffs. “You could be helpful and come up with something too, you know?”

“I want to go somewhere out of the way,” Elphaba says. “Just sit in the sun and turn my phone off and simply spend time with you, no distractions, no obligations, and, preferably, no clothes.”

Glinda looks at the green woman, a smile slowly creeping across her face. “I know just the place,” she says, pulling out her phone. “I have to make a call though.”

Elphaba knits her eyebrows together in confusion as Glinda pulls up a Facetime call.

Elphaba can’t see the screen but can hear a man's voice, tinny over the speaker.

“Olympic gold medal winner Glinda Upland,” he says, laughing. “To what do I owe the pleasure, my dear?”

Glinda smiles back, “I have a favor to ask.”

“You want to get back together? I knew it!” The man - the ex-boyfriend, Elphaba assumes - jokes, laughter evident in his voice. “Though I did think you had your sights set on a certain short-distance runner.”

Glinda laughs brightly and Elphaba blushes despite being off-camera. “You’re the only man I’ll ever love, Yero,” she announces dramatically. “But yes,” Glinda says, subtly angling the camera so Elphaba’s stark profile is visible, just for a split second.

“Oh damn. Only you would find romance in the Olympic Village, Glin,” he says with a smile. “What did you need from me?”

“Do your parents still have that place outside Avignon?”

Elphaba is putting the pieces together slowly.

Fiyero laughs over the phone speakers, “Let me guess, you and your very fast beloved are looking for a place to crash after the games?”

“Perhaps,” Glinda says.

“No one is going to be there until Autumn - you know where the spare key is. Stay as long as you’d like.”

Glinda smiles but looks only at Elphaba when she does. “You’re the best, Yero. Let's get dinner when I’m back in London, okay?”

“What would the press say to that?” He goads.

“That I have excellent taste in men for a lesbian,” Glinda deadpans. “Really though, thank you.”

“Of course, Glinda,” Elphaba overhears him say over the phone. “I’m happy for you. Both of you,” he says slightly louder, presumably so Elphaba can hear.

Glinda thanks him again and hangs up.

“That’s sorted,” she says easily.

Elphaba blinks at her. “I’m beginning to understand what you meant when you said you weren’t known for your patience.”

“Elphaba, dear, I simply believe in getting things done. We have two weeks at a summer cottage on the Rhone. Are you complaining?”

“Definitely not.”

“Good,” Glinda declares, kissing her warmly. “Now let’s go get tattoos.”

_________

They meet up with Boq, Milla, and Sarima back in the Village.

“Nice to see you two made it out of the bedroom,” Milla snarks when they arrive hand in hand.

“Bite me,” Glinda says sweetly.

“Looks like somebody already did,” Sarima says.

“I guess I walked right into that one,” Glinda sighs. “Sarima, are you even old enough to get a tattoo?”

“If I’m old enough to win the medal, I’m old enough to get the tattoo,” the younger woman counters.

Elphaba finds that she really loves getting to spend time around Glinda and her teammates. She likes seeing the other woman in her element, among her friends. They have a chemistry that extends off the field and Elphaba is just happy she gets to tag along for it. She folded Boq into the fray as well and delights in watching him internally struggle with keeping his cool around the soccer players.

Boq pipes up, face concerningly pale. “Alright, let’s do this. I need to go first or I’ll talk myself out of it,” he says, already rolling up his sleeve.

The four women just laugh kindly at him but take turns distracting the long jumper as he gets the Olympic rings across his bicep. Elphaba posts a photo of Boq grimacing and captions it: “Hope the medal was worth it @jumper_boq.”

Sarima gets hers on the inside of her right ankle. “That’s the foot that scores all my goals,” she laughs. Milla picks a spot on her ribcage. Glinda makes the other women choose a placement on her already full back that intertwines the leaves of the flowers with the rings.

Elphaba gets hers on her thigh, just above where the scrape from her hurdles fall is finally beginning to heal. “Maybe it’s a metaphor,” she muses as she hops up on the table, stencil placed.

Milla posts a selfie with the rest of the group as Elphaba gets her tattoo with the caption “whole lotta medals in this room.” In the photo, Sarima and Boq are showing off their new Olympic rings for the camera, and in the background, Elphaba lays out, leg extended as the tattoo artist works. Glinda sits beside her, ignorant of the photo being taken, holding Elphaba’s hand tightly and gazing adoringly at the green woman.

Unbeknownst to Elphaba, the internet makes this image go viral as well, sharing and retweeting and zooming in on the two women in the background.

_________

@positivelyemerald: I’m hyperventilating at the way they’re looking at each other

@gaylindaupland: they are IN LOVE no question about it

@an_okay_time: i’m sensing a proposal in like 3-4 business weeks.

@rightsidestrongside: this is objectively the strangest group of people to become friends over the olympics but I’m living for it

_________

Glinda carries the flag during the Closing Ceremonies parade. Elphaba walks with the track athletes and lets the other woman have this moment with her team. She thows her arm over Boq’s shoulder and the two of them make fun of how bad everyone looks in the nascar themed outfits. It’s easy and they feel a sense of accomplishment at having finished out the games - medals won, goals achieved.

After the ceremony, the two change and grab Nessa to meet up with Glinda and co. again. They end up at the French version of a dive bar just outside the village. Elphaba uses her height advantage to signal for a round of beers amid the crowd, ignoring Boq’s protestation that “beer tastes terrible.”

“Shut up and drink it,” Elphaba says as she returns to their booth, carrying three pints at a time, handing them out to the group huddled around the small table.

“Nessa, you want anything,” Elphaba asks as she heads back to the bar for the rest of the drinks.

“I’d drink a beer,” she says.

Elphaba smiles and can hear Boq ribbing her sister who seldom drinks. “Nessarose Thropp? Having a beer? We love to see it,” he jokes.

“I’m feeling celebratory,” she says, looking around the table at Boq and the soccer players. “All of you are such inspirations - I can only hope to take home a medal of my own.”

Elphaba returns with the last of the beers and Glinda raises hers to the center of the table, “To Nessarose - may she defend her Olympic title!” The others cheer and clink their glasses together and Elphaba just smiles sincerely at the blonde woman next to her.

Nessa slowly nurses her single pint while the rest of the athletes, games now over, indulge in a couple more rounds, laughing louder and more easily as the night progresses. 

Milla continues to poke fun at Glinda and Elphaba, teasing them openly about the unconventional nature of their meeting. Glinda takes the teasing in stride, throwing barbs right back about Milla’s not-so-secret relationship with their goalkeeper. Elphaba blushes deeply but laughs even deeper, throwing her arm across the back of Glinda’s seat.

“Alright,” Milla says, finally changing the topic. “And what’s going on with these two?” She asks, gesturing between Boq and Nessarose with her half-empty beer. “You’ve been caught gazing at each other almost as much as the lesbian lovers over here.”

Elphaba cuts her off, laughing as Boq stutters without answering, “Leave them be, they’ve got a crush on each other but they’re just now figuring that out.”

“Fabala!” Nessa cries, indignant that her sister spilled her open secret but clearly not that upset if the poorly-suppressed grin is any indication.

Glinda whips her head back around to Elphaba. “Fabala?” She asks.

The green woman shrugs her shoulders, “Childhood nickname. Can’t escape it.”

“I’m learning so much about the Thropp sisters right now,” Glinda contemplates, chin propped up in her hand.

Boq pipes up, “She went by ‘Fae’ in college which makes even less sense.”

Glinda leans into the green woman’s space. “You really are a mystery,” she murmurs.

“Hardly,” Elphaba replies. Glinda hums and, forgetting her company or emboldened by the drinks, pulls the green woman into a kiss that starts chastely enough but ends with Milla wolf whistling and Sarima offering to point them in the direction of the nearest bathroom.

“Come on,” Elphaba laughs, pulling away from the blonde, hardly embarrassed, “my kid sister is here.”

“I’m in my mid-twenties and you’re the one who started making out, Fabala,” Nessa argues.

Elphaba can’t help the warmth that spreads through her throughout the evening. Getting to unwind with her sister, her closest friend, Glinda, and her teammates. It feels easier than it should, it feels special and warm and genuine.

Boq and Nessa bow out first, Nessa cites an early day of training as the Paralympics are set to begin in a couple of weeks. Boq goes with her back to the Village and the women who remain heckle them on their way out.

Eventually, Glinda turns to Elphaba and says quietly, “You’re coming back home with me?”

Elphaba smiles, “Is that a question or a demand?”

Glinda pretends to think. “It’s a question but I’ll be very disappointed if the answer is no.”

Elphaba leans in and leaves a too-quick kiss to her cheek. “Lead the way, then.”

Glinda bids her friends farewell. “Goodnight, girls. Don’t stay out too late,” Glinda says, dramatically kissing Milla’s cheek on her way out.

Milla waves her off, “We’ll be right behind you, I just have to teach Sarima how to take shots first.”

“That’s not going to end well,” Glinda throws over her shoulder. 

And then Elphaba and Glinda are again roaming the darkening streets of Paris on the way back to the team hotel, clasped hands swinging between them. Glinda unlocks her hotel room and lets Elphaba slowly back her against the wall, green hands tangling in blonde hair.

“Is this insane?” She whispers against Elphaba’s lips. Elphaba knows she’s talking about them, about this.

Elphaba kisses her soundly. “Yes,” she confirms, pulling Glinda’s shirt up and over her head, mouth following the expanse of newly exposed skin. “But that’s fine by me.” She sinks to her knees.

_________

They’re in Avignon by the next afternoon.

Glinda rents a car at the train station and drives Elphaba the half hour to Fiyero’s family house. It is gorgeous, Elphaba admits. The house is quaint and sits on a plot of land that abuts a small river. The kitchen is large and there’s a pool in the back and a clawfoot tub in the bathroom. It’s exactly what Elphaba was imagining when she said she wanted to go somewhere out of the way and just spend time with Glinda. It’s perfect.

They spend the rest of the day wandering through the small town, picking up groceries and a bottle of wine that Glinda uncorks while Elphaba makes dinner.

“You don’t cook?” Elphaba asks the other woman.

“No, I do. I just spent so long cooking for a man that now it’s my turn to be cooked for,” she explains, pouring wine into a low glass and handing it off to Elphaba.

Elphaba takes the glass and Glinda hops up onto the counter. “Oh,” the green girl laughs, “so now I have to pay the price for your compulsory heterosexuality, I see how it is.”

Glinda tuts and Elphaba abandons the cutting board, stepping between Glinda’s legs, hands finding her hips easily. “You know I don’t actually mean that, right? I’d gladly make you dinner forever if that’s what you wanted.” She kisses Glinda softly and returns to the task at hand. It isn’t until later that Elphaba realizes she was only partially joking.

They sleep with the windows thrown open, a warm breeze blowing over their naked and intertwined bodies. Elphaba wakes in the middle of the night to find Glinda curled around her taller body, holding Elphaba to her chest.

Elphaba feels an emotion lodged in her throat, something she isn’t prepared to name. All she knows is that somewhere in all of this, Glinda carved out a space for herself in Elphaba’s life and the green woman worries what will happen to that space when they eventually have to part. She swallows these feelings and pulls Glinda’s hand to her mouth, kissing the center of her palm before falling back into a warm sleep.

_________

The next morning finds Elphaba padding barefoot into the kitchen, Glinda already awake and boiling water in the kettle, wearing an oversized US Track and Field t-shirt. Elphaba feels a not-unpleasant tightness in her chest at the sight.

“I couldn’t find any coffee so we’ll have to make do with tea,” Glinda explains.

Elphaba sighs in response, settling her chin on Glinda’s shoulder, arms going easily around her waist. “Good morning,” she says in a low voice still threaded with sleep.

Glinda leans instinctively back into the taller woman as Elphaba places a lingering kiss at Glinda’s jaw. “Good morning, indeed,” she hums and Elphaba feels the sound vibrate in her chest. Glinda turns in her arms, trapped between the dark-haired woman and the kitchen counter, and kisses her softly.

They stay like this: trading quiet kisses in one another’s arms until the kettle starts to steam.

“This is all very domestic,” Elphaba reflects, mug in hand, sitting out on the back patio steps, Glinda’s shoulder brushing hers as she sits beside her.

Glinda is quiet a moment, leaning against the other woman and looking out over the yard, morning mist hanging low in the air. “Is that such a bad thing?” She asks earnestly. “I figured we deserved a bit of peace and quiet after all that,” she gestures broadly and Elphaba assumes she means the Olympics, the publicity that suddenly surrounded their names, the pressure of it all.

“I agree,” Elphaba nods. “Just hope you don’t get tired of me, two weeks is a long time, Upland,” she jokes.

Glinda kisses her shoulder. “I could never. Two weeks isn’t long enough, I feel like we’re just barely getting to know each other.”

Elphaba hums. “What would you like to know about me?”

“Everything!” Glinda replies excitedly. “Like - I don’t even know your favorite color!”

“Black. What’s yours?”

Glinda rolls her eyes, “Why does that not surprise me? Mine’s pink but you make a compelling argument for green.”

Elphaba scoffs. “Okay, what’s your favorite book?”

“Ohh good one. The Wizard of Oz, I think.”

“Did not expect that,” Elphaba blinks.

“My mom read it to me as a kid and I remember loving it. So it’s more a nostalgia thing, I suppose,” Glinda explains. “What about you?”

Elphaba hems and haws for a moment. “That’s a tough one.”

“You’re gonna say something insane like War and Peace or Great Expectations.”

“No, but I do love Dickens. I was going to say Beloved by Toni Morrison. I read it in undergrad and, man, it really stuck with me,” Elphaba says.

“Next question: where did you go to undergrad?”

“Also Harvard. They recruited me because, apparently, I’m fairly quick.”

Glinda laughs, “I think two Olympic medals would be considered more than ‘fairly quick,’ dear.”

“Whatever. You spend a year in college, right?” Glinda nods.

“Yeah, UCLA. My year there was good but at the time, college programs weren’t great and we were all trying to get to the pros as fast as possible. Also - LA is not for me.”

“Wow, now you’re speaking ill of my hometown?” Elphaba feigns offense.

Glinda holds up her free hand in surrender. “I never spoke ill - it’s just not for me. Too big, too noisy.”

Ephaba furrows her brow. “Don’t you live in London? That’s not big and noisy?”

“London is different,” Glinda argues. “It’s beautiful and easily accessible. LA is just like a bunch of smaller cities tossed into the desert. And the subway there is awful.”

“I’ll give you that,” Elphaba concedes. “Will you stay in London, then?”

Glinda nods again. “For a while, at least. I love playing there, I love the club system, I love playing for Arsenal. My contract isn’t up for two more years at least.”

“Arsenal?” Elphaba asks. “Don’t you wear red for Arsenal, too?”

Glinda laughs loudly and Elphaba can’t help the way her breath catches at the sound. “Next time I’m traded, I’ll be sure to go to a team that wears neutral colors. Just for you, babe.”

Elphaba kisses the side of her head. “It really is the least you can do,” she mumbles into blonde hair.

They sip their tea and volley easy questions back and forth. Elphaba starts:

“When’s your birthday?”

“October 21st - yours?”

“March 9th.”

“How much longer until your degree is finished?”

“All goes according to plan, I have two semesters left.”

“Why wouldn’t it go to plan?”

“Well, Glinda, I keep having to pause my studies to go run around. Luckily they have me on an athletic scholarship so they can’t be too upset when I jet off to compete.”

“That makes sense. When’s your next comp?”

“Indoor Worlds is sometime in the spring, I think? When do you play next?”

“Since we won, there will be a victory tour back in the States at some point. So probably three friendlies in October or November.”

“What about club?”

“They’re still playing currently but those of us at the games get a bit of a break. I’ll be back on the pitch with them in like 3 weeks maybe?”

“What’s your middle name?”

“Arduenna - don’t ask. It’s an old family name. You?”

“Don’t have one.”

“Come on, Elphie. I just told you my weird middle name.”

“I’m not lying! I literally don’t have one - you can check my passport.”

“Fine… next question: do you even own shirts with sleeves or are your perfect arms always on display?”

_________

They finish their tea and run out of questions and Elphaba follows Glinda back inside. The rest of the day is spent lazily - Glinda sends Elphaba into town to grab coffee beans insisting that she can’t go another morning relying on tea alone.

When Elphaba hasn’t returned in over an hour, Glinda goes looking for her only to find that she hadn’t even made it to the store.

Glinda stands in the doorway of an ancient and dusty used bookstore. “What’s going on here, Elphie?” Glinda asks and Elphaba’s head whips up.

“Oh shoot. The coffee. I got sidetracked.”

Glinda chuckles, coming to stand next to the green woman among the stacks of books. “I can see that. Find anything good?”

“Yes, but tragically I can’t read French. Their English section is somewhat limited but I did find a beautiful collection of Emily Dickinson's.”

“So get it,” Glinda urges. “We still need coffee, you know?”

They leave the bookshop hand in hand. “Sorry, I didn’t realize how long I had been gone. Kinda lost track of time,” Elphaba apologizes.

“Not a problem, just missed you, is all.”

Elphaba finds Glinda’s directness refreshing. She squeezes Glinda’s hand in hers. “I really like you,” Elphaba says simply as they walk down the street. “I hope you know that.”

Glinda bumps her shoulder into the taller woman’s, grinning. “I like you, too,” she responds. “It’s insane to me that this actually worked out but I’m not going to complain about it.”

“And to think, all I had to do was run into you at the airport,” Elphaba muses playfully.

“Don’t take credit for this,” Glinda huffs. “I did all the hard work.”

“The hard work of sliding into my DMs?” Elphaba laughs. “Sure thing, babe, it was all you.”

Glinda sighs, “You’re a tough nut to crack, Elphaba Thropp. I deserve my credit where it’s due.”

Elphaba holds the door open to the small grocery store, hand coming to rest at the small of Glinda’s back as she crosses the threshold. “Whatever,” Elphaba dismisses. “I was smitten from the very first second I saw you, couldn’t have been that hard.”

“Liar,” Glinda calls her out, wandering through the aisles looking for coffee beans. “You didn’t even know who I was when we met.”

“That doesn’t mean I didn’t think you were hot,” Elphaba says. “Oh hey, over here,” she calls, having located the coffee.

They grab the beans, another bottle of wine, and a loaf of bread and amble down cobblestone streets back toward the house, late afternoon sun filtering gently through the trees.

_________

Their two weeks together pass in a haze of long walks through the countryside, gin and tonics on the back porch, lazy mornings spent losing themselves in the other. It’s domestic and effortless and uncomplicated. They pointedly don’t talk about what happens after this.

On their final afternoon before Elphaba returns to Paris and Glinda back to London, Glinda lounges on the sun-warmed stone next to the pool where Elphaba sits, topless, hair pulled up, drinking from a can of sparkling water.

“This is nice,” the green woman says.

Glinda moves her arm from where she had thrown it over her eyes to block the sun. “What’s nice?” She asks.

“This,” Elphaba gestures, smiling widely. “I’d like to sit in a pool next to a very pretty woman every day.”

“Flattery gets you nowhere, Elphie,” Glinda snarks.

Elphaba laughs heartily. “I don’t know, Upland. Flattery got me here.”

“Don’t kid yourself, hot shot,” Glinda smirks. “You’re here because of your good looks and your good looks alone.”

“And to think I believed you actually liked me,” Elphaba drawls sarcastically, flicking water onto Glinda’s bare stomach.

The blonde startles, “Don’t you dare, Elphaba Thropp,” she warns.

Elphaba makes a show of hauling herself out of the pool, not missing the way Glinda’s eyes rake across her muscular form as she saunters towards the other woman.

“Do not come over here with your soaking wet body right now,” Glinda cautions, voice full of laughter.

Elphaba just sports a wolfish grin and lays down halfway on top of the smaller woman. Glinda shrieks but wraps her arms around strong shoulders regardless. “You wicked thing!” She jokes as Elphaba peppers her face with kisses.

Elphaba pulls her into a deep kiss before rolling off Glinda and onto her back. “There,” she says, “now we’re even.”

Glinda stands and tosses a towel at the green woman, “You’re the worst,” she says.

Elphaba just cackles and dries herself off. When she looks back up, Glinda is removing the last of her drenched clothing and stands naked in the yard. Elphaba swears her heart stops at the sight.

“You’re so beautiful,” she whispers as the afternoon light catches on golden hair.

Glinda steps forward into Elphaba’s space, pressing her body against the green woman’s. “Are you going to keep staring or are you going to do something about it?” Glinda goads, voice sultry as she pushes up onto her toes to kiss the taller woman gently.

Elphaba picks her up and carries her back into the bedroom, bridal style, one set of wet footprints following them through the house.

_________

Elphaba flops heavily down onto the bed beside Glinda. They’re both flushed and out of breath.

Elphaba undoes the leather straps around her hips. “I cannot believe you brought this to the Olympics,” she says, the tremor in her voice betraying her as she removes the offending harness.

Glinda turns her head to look lazily at the green woman through hooded eyes. “I like to be prepared,” she breathes. Glinda rolls over until she’s slotted against Elphaba’s side. “And you didn’t seem to mind all that much,” she drawls, hand ghosting lightly over lean muscle and soft skin.

Elphaba hums and leans into her touch, struck by how easily Glinda can make her feel so totally undone with just a gaze and a touch. Glinda leans over and kisses Elphaba softly.

“Let me take care of you now,” she whispers against her lips, her low voice curling heat into the pit of Elphaba’s stomach. 

The green woman just nods, not trusting her voice, as Glinda’s hands trace her body with something akin to reverence, thumbs pressing into soft muscle, lips following the long sweep of her neck.

She parts Elphaba with teasing fingers and moans. “You’re so wet for me,” Glinda says, voice tinged with awe. “I haven’t even touched you yet.”

Elphaba nods again, mouth parted and breathing shakily. “I liked fucking you,” she admits.

Glinda bites down gently on her collarbone, fingers working against Elphaba’s clit as the green woman writhes beneath her. Glinda hums, “You’re so good for me,” and Elphaba preens and melts further into her, letting Glinda slip two deft fingers inside her.

Glinda watches the woman come unwound under her hands. Elphaba feels the heat in her stomach coil tighter until her body snaps, pulling taught and arched. The world turns briefly white as Glinda brings her down slowly, gently.

Elphaba brings Glinda’s hand to her mouth and licks her fingers clean for her, watching Glinda’s eyes go wide and dark with renewed desire as her tongue swirls around knuckles.

“That’s not fair, Elphie,” Glinda says, voice low and dangerous.

Elphaba draws her fingers out of her mouth, biting the very tip of Glinda’s middle finger. “You know what they say, all’s fair in love and war, my dear.” Glinda kisses her sharply Elphaba wonders distantly if this is closer to love or war.

_________

The train ride back to Paris is quiet. Elphaba has her arm across the back of Glinda’s seat, and the blonde woman rests her head against Elphaba’s shoulder. Elphaba reads from her book and Glinda dozes lightly against her. The green woman yearns to suspend this moment, stretch the hands of the clock until the only thing left is the two of them here, together, now.

They’re a few stops from Paris - where Elphaba will remain and Glinda will hop another train back to London - when Glinda finally lifts her head.

“I know we’ve been avoiding this conversation but we really do have to talk about this,” she says, eyes full of an emotion Elphaba can’t name.

Elphaba nods. “You’re right. I just haven’t known where to start,” she admits.

“Me neither. But let's start simple: do you want to be with me?”

Elphaba blinks back her surprise. “Yes, of course,” she says as though it’s obvious. To her, it is obvious.

“Okay good,” Glinda replies. “That’s what I want to.”

“But what does that look like?” Elphaba asks. “There’s a time difference, we both have demanding schedules. It won’t always get to be this easy.”

“I know that,” Glinda says, pulling Elphaba’s arm tighter around her shoulder. “But I’m willing to try. This matters to me, you matter to me.”

Elphaba smiles sadly and leans down to kiss Glinda softly. “Okay,” she says simply. “Then let’s do the damn thing.”

“So that does that make you?” Glinda asks. “My girlfriend?”

“If that’s what you want, my sweet,” Elphaba replies.

Glinda nods, thinking. “Yeah,” she says finally. “That’s what I want.”

Elphaba hums, “Girlfriend,” she says, feeling the weight of the word in her mouth. “I like that.” The grin Glinda gives her in response could light a city.

_________

Elphaba waits with Glinda for her next train, grabbing them coffees from the cafe in the train station. They hold hands across the table, but it’s clear that they’re both harboring a certain anxiety about the future.

Glinda, always one to say it as it is, speaks first, voice soothing. “We’ll figure it out. It might take a while but people do this all the time.”

“I know, I’m not actually worried about that. This whole thing was just so pleasant, I don’t want to go back to the real world. Especially without you,” she confesses. 

Glinda squeezes her hand as the loudspeaker announces her train. “You won’t be without me, we’ll just be a bit further away. That’s what phones are for.”

Elphaba gets up and grabs Glinda’s bag. “Phone or not,” she says using her free arm to pull Glinda into her as they walk, “I’ll still miss you.”

“Sap,” Glinda mocks, though her voice betrays a thin wire of emotion.

Elphaba leaves Glinda (her girlfriend, she thinks with a small thrill) at the train. Kissing her deeply and pulling her into a fierce hug. “I’ll see you soon,” she promises.

“Be good, Elphie,” Glinda instructs as she boards the train with a soft smile. Elphaba gives an easy wave and walks back into the throng, only glancing back once, Glinda’s gaze still on her.

_________

The next few days are fun - Boq is still in Paris and they go to several Paralympic events together before archery gets underway but each night, Elphaba sits in her Olympic Village dorm room and wishes she could be back in the French countryside with Glinda.

They keep in touch - not as much as they had been during the Olympics but enough. Glinda sends photos of her flat in London; a selfie from the Tube, Glinda scowling in a packed train car with the message:

Glinda: definitely not as nice as avignon

Elphaba keeps Glinda up to date about Nessa’s events and sends her a picture or two from Paris.

One day Elphaba wakes to an Instagram notification: @GUpland4 tagged you in a post which was accompanied by a slew of new followers and mentions. Elphaba opens the notification to a carousel of photos that Glinda had apparently taken throughout the games. Most are pictures from her matches, of teammates; photos from the gold medal-winning game; Glinda carrying the flag at the closing ceremonies; the selfie that Milla had taken of them all getting tattoos. And the last photo is of Elphaba herself, unaware of the camera, sitting on the back porch of the cottage, a glass of wine in hand and a deep grin painted across her face. She looks at ease, relaxed, at home.

The post was captioned, “had an absolutely golden time in paris.”

Half the comments were speculating on the nature of their relationship, this new photo of them clearly not in Paris just adding fuel to the fire.

Elphaba smirks and comments, “Pretty girl” under the photo of Glinda and her gold medal and then ignores the flurry of likes and comments beneath it.

_________

The Thropp sisters take home the full range of hardware

The inimitable Thropp sisters, Elphaba and Nessarose, leave with an impressive display for the family mantle. Following in the footsteps of their father, a winter Olympian, the sisters bring home three medals between them.

Elphaba, the eldest, won bronze in the Women’s 400-meter dash and gold in the 200. She failed to medal in her third event, the 400-meter hurdles, after an accident on the track.

Her younger sister, Nessarose, improved upon her Tokyo bronze medal in Paralympic Archery with a silver medal in Paris.

The question now remains: will either of the Thropp sisters compete in the Los Angeles Olympics and Paralympics in 2028? It is yet to be seen but one would be remiss to count out the LA locals in four years.

_________

When all is said and done, Nessarose leaves the Paralympics with a silver medal and, at Elphaba’s urging, a long discussion with Boq.

Elphaba has to be on the next flight out so she doesn't get to celebrate much with her sister but she makes sure to hug her fiercely and tell her over and over how proud she is.

She makes it back to her apartment late, with several delays and a missed connection causing a headache of a travel day. She takes a quick shower before falling into bed, sending an honest photo to Glinda, hair mussed, glasses on, bags under her eyes.

Elphaba: Long day. Finally made it home.

Elphaba: Miss you.

She knows Glinda won’t see it until the morning but she sends it anyway. Elphaba sighs deeply, she knows they’ll figure it out, they’ll fall into a routine, but she would be lying if she said she wasn’t already looking for an excuse to see the blonde woman again. The rational part of her feels silly for having such deep feelings for someone so quickly but the vast majority of her feels utterly helpless to the way being with Glinda makes her feel. It’s as though Elphaba finally makes sense to herself in this new context.

She falls asleep to the sound of the traffic outside her window, missing the rhythmic whisper of another person's breathing to lull her to sleep.

She wakes to a text from Glinda.

Glinda: ur a sight for sore eyes, thropp

Glinda: miss u, too

_________

September 2024

They make it work, tenuously.

Elphaba Facetimes Glinda one evening, forgetting the time difference, and Glinda answers, her bedroom dark, eyes half closed against the light from her phone.

“What’s wrong, Elphie?” Glinda asks groggily.

“Shit,” Elphaba whispers. “I am so sorry, go back to sleep.”

“You’re good, baby,” Glinda says slowly. “Happy to see your face even if it’s the middle of the night.”

From then on, Elphaba sets her phone so it always displays the time in London underneath the local time, not wanting to make the same mistake again.

But they make it work, they call when they can, text when they can’t. When Elphaba can carve out space between class and practice and when Glinda has any spare time, they do their best with these stolen moments.

During one of these moments, Glinda surprises Elphaba.

“So,” she begins the call. “Any chance you’re interested in a road trip?”

“Is this a riddle?” Elphaba asks.

“Remember that victory tour I was telling you about? We’ll be in the States for three friendlies next month.”

Elphaba grins. “Anywhere on the East Coast, perhaps?”

“The first two are midwest but the last one is in Hartford,” Glinda informs her.

“Hartford? That’s like an hour and a half away - I can probably come to that one!”

“Now she gets it,” Glinda jokes. “I actually already got tickets for you.”

Elphaba laughs, “How presumptuous of you. I’ll be there.”

“I have four days off afterward,” Glinda says with a smirk.

“You buried the lede, Upland!” Elphaba cries, excited. “Come back to Boston with me.”

Glinda tries and fails to school her smile, “Way ahead of you, babe. My return flight is already booked out of Logan.”

“Wow,” Elphaba laughs. “You’re very sure of yourself.”

“Forgive me for wanting to spend a long weekend with my girlfriend, jeez,” the blonde woman throws up her hands in mock frustration.

“I can’t wait,” Elphaba says, giddy.

_________

The next time Glinda calls, it’s already evening in Boston, and Elphaba is just finishing up grading for the class she’s TA-ing this semester.

She glances at her phone, confused about why Glinda’s calling so late.

“G, it’s late - what’s going on?” Elphaba asks, concern lacing her voice.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Glinda sighs, voice low and breathy. Elphaba’s concern is immediately replaced with a warm heat coiling in her stomach. She grips the edge of the table. “I’m thinking about you,” Glinda says, her voice trembling.

“Glinda…” Elphaba is at a loss for words, struck dumb by the fluttering breaths on the other side of the phone.

“What’re you wearing?” Glinda asks. It should be laughable, a line, trite - but Elphaba groans audibly.

She swallows hard. “Um. T-shirt, sweats.”

Glinda hums softly on the other line. “Take the shirt off.” Elphaba does, no questions asked, putting the phone on speaker and falling into the couch. “Where are you?” The blonde asks.

“On the sofa.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” Glinda says again breathily. “Can’t stop thinking of you. I miss your body.”

Elphaba’s mouth is suddenly dry. “G, you’re –”

Glinda cuts her off, “Too much? Should I stop?”

“No!” Elphaba says too quickly. “I want you.”

“Good.” She says, her voice the picture of control and desire. “Are you touching yourself?”

“Do you want me to?” Elphaba asks coyly.

“Yes, now.” Elphaba sucks in a breath, hand going immediately to her chest. “Good,” Glinda repeats, hearing Elphaba’s breath turn sharp. “What are you thinking about?” Glinda demands.

“You - always you,” Elphaba says as she slips a hand beneath the waistband of her sweatpants.

Glinda moans loudly, “I wish it was you, Elphie.”

“How long were you touching yourself before you called me?” Elphaba asks, suddenly bold.

She hears Glinda take a sharp breath. “Not long. I wanted to hear you,” she admits.

Elphaba’s own fingers do a perfunctory job but her mind is elsewhere: she’s thinking about being on her knees, Glinda open and wanting before her. She’s thinking about the way Glinda can unravel her with a single, pointed look. She closes her eyes and imagines it’s Glinda’s hands on her body now.

She says so: “I miss your hands on me.”

Glinda responds in kind. “I wish I could taste you.”

Elphaba can tell just by her voice that the other woman is close. “Fuck, Glinda,” she breathes, hips faltering into nothing. “I’m yours, I’m all yours,” Elphaba whines.

“Mine,” Glinda repeats. “Be a good girl and come for me, Elphie.” In anyone else’s mouth, that would sound out of a bad porno but Glinda makes it genuine and hot and wanton and Elphaba can hear the desperation in her voice. It’s enough to make Elphaba choke out the other woman’s name, voice strangled as she listens to Glinda reach her peak moments later.

“Elphaba,” Glinda whispers, coming back down to earth, the name falling from her lips like honey.

It should be embarrassing how quickly the green woman follows, hips stuttering, breath gasping until she’s boneless and half-naked and alone on her couch.

“I miss you,” Elphaba whispers oh so silently as she returns to herself. This time, it’s not a confession fueled by lust but rather one of affection and adoration.

“Baby,” Glinda mutters, care lacing her voice. “I’m going to see you soon, I promise.”

“Hold out, my sweet.”

Chapter Text

September 2024

Glinda collapses gracelessly onto her couch, gym bag forgotten at the door. It’s been nearly a month since she came home from Paris, and training with Arsenal had restarted in earnest. They eased the Olympians back into the swing of things, letting them warm the bench for the first few weeks back.

“Remind me why you’re here again,” she asks as Milla helps herself to a bottle of water from Glinda’s fridge.

Not only do they play for the same National Team, but Milla was picked up by Arsenal the year after Glinda was traded. The duo owe part of their on-field synchronicity to having played together for years on several different teams. Even more, they live in the same building, Milla just a couple of floors above the forward.

Mostly, Glinda loves getting to spend this much time with her closet friend. Sometimes - like when Milla follows Glinda to her flat instead of just going back to her own - Glinda wishes for a bit more separation.

“Wanted to say hi to your lover,” Milla explains as though it were obvious.

Glinda scoffs, “Fine. You can say hi but then I’m kicking you out.”

“Deal,” Milla grins, flopping down next to Glinda on the couch.

Elphaba picks up almost immediately and Glinda feels an all-too-familiar ache in her chest at the sight of her girlfriend on the other line. She’s wearing her glasses and walking somewhere outside, autumn trees bright behind her.

“Hi,” Elphaba says, voice small over the speaker.

“Hi there,” Glinda responds. “Are you wearing a blazer right now?”

Elphaba laughs deep and rich and Glinda feels herself falling even further. “I am indeed,” the green woman confirms. “Had to teach today and they generally frown upon sleeveless t-shirts.”

“You look good,” Glinda says, delighting in the way Elphaba blushes.

“Thanks. I do own clothes that aren’t athletic wear, believe it or not.”

“What’s up, Harvard?!” Milla calls, leaning into Glinda’s space.

“Milla’s here,” Glinda announces unhelpfully.

Elphaba laughs, “I can see that. Hi Milla.”

“You look exceedingly professional,” Milla says, grabbing the phone from her friend. “You know, you’re probably the only Olympian whose day job is harder than being an Olympian.”

Elphaba waves her off. “How’s life in London?”

Milla responds with a shrug, “The usual. We just got back from training and Glinda is threatening to kick me out because she likes you more than she likes me.”

“I am going to kick you out because I have been with you since 8 am and I would like to speak to my girlfriend now, please,” Glinda clarifies. Milla just laughs and hands the phone back to the blonde.

“Bye, Elphaba. Nice to see you,” Milla calls as she makes her exit.

“Bye, Milla.” The door clicks shut and Elphaba takes a breath. “Hi,” she says again.

“Hi. Where are you?” Glinda asks.

“On campus, just walking back from class. How was practice?”

“It was good. I think I’m probably set to play this weekend which will be nice,” Glinda says. “You have time to talk or are you in the middle of something?”

Elphaba glances down at the camera and Glinda feels only marginally unsteady. I’m never going to get over how pretty she is, Glinda thinks absently.

“All the time in the world,” Elphaba quips. “What’s up?”

“Any chance you’re interested in a road trip?” Glinda asks, trying to be casual about it.

Elphaba blinks at her, “Is this a riddle?”

Glinda explains that the USWNT victory tour was just announced and their last of three games was set to be played in Hartford, Connecticut - a short drive from Boston. It takes a moment for Elphaba to put the pieces together and by that time, Glinda is done drawing out the surprise.

“I actually already got tickets for you,” she admits. And moreover, she doesn’t have to be back in London for another several days after. It’s the perfect storm of time off and international travel.

“I can’t wait,” Elphaba says genuinely. “Hold on,” she furrows her eyebrows suddenly, swiping through her phone. “Okay, we’re good. I have a photoshoot in New York but that isn’t until the following weekend.”

“Photoshoot in New York?” Glinda asks, eyebrow raised in question.

Elphaba, always too humble, hadn’t mentioned anything about a photoshoot.

She looks askance, free hand rubbing at the back of her neck. “Yeah, Nike asked me to come and take some photos.”

“Hey, Elphie?” Glinda says, voice saccharine. “This wouldn’t happen to be a Nike shoot for, I don’t know, a Superbowl ad?”

Elphaba’s lack of response says everything Glinda needs to know. “You were really just not going to tell me about this?”

Elphaba blushes, “I didn’t want to make a big deal of it,” she admits. “Also - hold up. If you know about this that means they also asked you and you also didn’t say anything.”

“Touché.”

Glinda intentionally hadn’t told Elphaba about Nike’s pitch to her - a spot in a visually stunning, black and white Superbowl ad to promote women’s sports. It’s not that she didn’t want Elphaba to know about it - it’s that Glinda wasn’t sure if they had reached out to the sprinter as well and she didn’t want to brag about being in an ad for women's sports to another exceptional and equally worthy female athlete.

It was another one of those fine lines Glinda was learning how to walk in this relationship.

“I can imagine there aren’t a lot of other couples jointly doing a Superbowl ad with Nike,” Elphaba muses, a faint smile pulling at the corner of her mouth.

“Probably not,” Glinda agrees. “But also not sure how many people actually know we’re a couple. We haven’t, like, made it super public.”

“How do you keep forgetting about the time you made out with me during an event that was watched live by 9 million people?” Elphaba says, straight-faced.

“Did you google how many viewers that game had?”

“Yes, it was 9 million. 9 million people know we’re together.”

Glinda rolls her eyes so hard. “You really are inept when it comes to social media. It’s not official until it’s Instagram official.”

Elphaba shoulders her way into her apartment, pulling the bag from where it was slung over her shoulder. “Okay, I’ll be on the lookout for an Instagram post announcing whether or not I’m in a relationship,” Elphaba mocks.

“Oh, you’re definitely in a relationship. I’m not doing this long-distance shit for fun, babe,” Glinda quips back.

“I’d certainly hope so because it is not very fun. I miss you too much.” Glinda laughs. “I mean it!” Elphaba defends herself. “I didn’t expect any of this but here we are and hate that I don’t even get to be with you.”

Glinda’s heart tightens and in the very back of her mind she worries that she’s falling for Elphaba far too quickly.

“It’s very stupid. But I’d take this over not having you at all,” Glinda says.

Elphaba sighs deeply. “When is that Hartford match again?”

“End of November - two months from now.”

“That’s so long,” Elphaba groans with a petulant kind of sadness and Glinda feels the same desperation deep in her bones.

“Quick question,” Glinda says.

“Shoot.”

“Are you wearing your glasses right now because it plays up the hot intellectual vibe you’ve got going?”

Elphaba shoots Glinda a look that is both scathing and playful over the phone. “No. I’m wearing my glasses because I woke up late and lost one of my contacts and couldn’t find the replacement.”

“How are you simultaneously the smartest and most scatterbrained person to ever grace this earth?” Glinda asks, eyes bright.

Elphaba rolls her eyes. “You love it,” she jokes.

Glinda does love it. Glinda may even love her, she thinks distantly.

_________

Glinda sends Elphaba another shirt as soon as Arsenal debuts their new away jersey - this time black with green accents. Much more Elphaba’s color pallet, Glinda thinks.

Elphaba posts a photo the following week: a selfie of her in front of the TV, mug in hand, Glinda’s Arsenal jersey on. The caption reads, “5 a.m. wake-up for a soccer game?? Anything for @GUpland4, I suppose.”

Glinda only sees the post after she gets off the field. Her first game back ended in a 2-2 tie against Tottenham, nothing to write home about but Glinda was happy with her personal performance.

She reposts Elphaba’s photo and adds a few heart-eyed emojis before calling the green woman.

“Hi,” Glinda says when the call connects. “Heard you were up early.”

She hears Elphaba laugh lightly. “Yeah, someone I know was playing a sport so I voluntarily woke up at the crack of dawn on my day off.”

“Well, she must be pretty special if you’re willing to do all that,” Glinda ribs.

“Very special,” Elphaba agrees. “I’m really quite fond of her, actually.” She changes the subject, “How was your game?”

“You tell me,” Glinda says. “Weren’t you watching?”

Elphaba huffs. “Of course I was. Looked good to me, but I also know less than nothing about soccer. I just watch because I think you’re pretty,” she deadpans.

Glinda ignores her, “It was a decent game. I was happy to be back on the pitch - after the craziness of the Olympics, it was nice to just play a normal game.”

“I can imagine,” Elphaba says. “When is your next big tournament?”

Glinda thinks. “I mean, there’s always the League Cup every year. That’s the WSL club championship. But the next big international tourney? Not until the World Cup.”

“When’s the World Cup?”

“2027, so we’ve got some time but if I want to be on that team, I have to keep playing well for the next three years,” Glinda explains.

Glinda knows she still has a number of years left in professional football. She’s turning 27 soon which, in soccer terms, is getting up there. But unless she gets hurt again, she feels as though she has a good shot of making the World Cup squad, provided she keeps playing like she has been.

“That’s a lot of pressure,” Elphaba contemplates.

Glinda repeats the line every female athlete knows, “Pressure is a privilege, they say.”

Glinda can hear a rustling on the other end of the phone and then Elphaba’s cursing, “Ah shit.”

“What is it?” Glinda asks, concerned.

“Nothing, I just lost track of time - I have to be at practice in 15 minutes and I live 10 minutes away.” The noises Glinda can hear are clearly the sounds of Elphaba changing and grabbing her things.

“Sounds like you better get going then,” she says, slightly disappointed that the call has to end so soon.

“I’m so sorry, G. I’ll try to give you a call when I’m done, yeah?”

Glinda sighs. “No need to apologize. Run fast, babe.”

“I will,” Elphaba replies, smile evident in her tone.

“Alright,” Glinda says. “I lo–” Glinda stops herself, shocked by what nearly came out of her mouth and she hopes the other woman is too harried to have heard her. “I’ll talk to you later,” she corrects herself, hanging up the call quickly.

“Shit,” Glinda says aloud to her empty apartment. “I think I love her.”

_________

“We’re here with USWNT and Arsenal forward, Glinda Upland. Glinda, thanks for coming on the show.”

“Thanks for having me! Happy to be here.”

Glinda’s doing a hybrid podcast/video interview from the comfort of her own home. There’s a mic set up and her computer camera is blinking up at her as the host begins the interview on their end.

“We’re happy to have you. Tell us a little about your time at the Olympics, I know you just returned to London a couple of months ago. How’s that transition been?”

Glinda clears her throat, not really used to this whole set-up. “It’s been tough, I won’t lie. The Olympics is such a significant tournament for us - for any athlete, really. It’s the pinnacle of sports and we all work so hard to be there. When it ends, even if you do win, it feels like a vacuum almost. We’ve all spent years working towards this and then suddenly it’s over and you have to go back to everyday life. It’s not an easy transition, for sure. But I’m just so lucky to have had the opportunity to play in the Olympics this year.”

“How did Paris compare with Toyko? It’s been three years, you had a major injury and rehab in between. Talk us through the differences.”

“Great question. I do think the ACL tear and recovery changed me as an athlete. But as it relates to Paris, I’m not sure it was a huge factor. The main difference for me was that we won in Paris and we didn’t win in Tokyo. The bronze medal in 2021 was a huge honor but winning gold is what we really cared about, it’s what kept us up at night. We were hungry for it and we fought tooth and nail this time around. The gold really did make all the difference for me.”

“Congrats on the medal by the way. Can we go back to your ACL tear quickly? You said it changed you as an athlete - how so?”

Glinda really hates talking about her injury. It’s all she thought about for a year and now that her rehab is in the past, she wants to leave the conversations about it in the past but no one seems to let her.

“Yeah, I mean, we see footballers, especially women, tearing their ACL at alarming rates. I was unlucky enough to be among those who did. If anything good came of the injury at all, it made me stop and consider the longevity of my body. I worked with trainers well after I was back to full fitness just to try and find a plan for me to maintain my entire body as well as possible so I can keep playing for as long as possible.”

“Alright, back to some more light-hearted stuff,” the host says. “Other than winning that gold medal, do you have a favorite moment from these most recent games?”

Glinda thinks for a moment, she could talk about when Elphaba fucked her on a bathroom counter in the Team USA house but somehow she doesn’t think that answer would go over well.

She gives the safer answer: “I think it must have been carrying the flag at the Closing Ceremonies. It was such a distinct honor to be asked to be a flag bearer and to have my team alongside, it was very special.”

“It was definitely special to watch,” the interviewer agrees. “Alright and now here’s the question everyone has been dying to know the answer to: what exactly is going on with you and Elphaba Thropp?”

Glinda laughs demurely. “Oh jeez, I knew this was going to come up at some point. What do you want to know?”

“I mean, we saw you guys posting about each other’s events and we definitely all saw you in a passionate embrace after your final match. Tell the people what they want to know!”

Glinda smiles genuinely, “As you say, it shouldn’t come as much of a surprise considering we did, in fact, kiss on national television, but yes, Elphaba and I are dating.” She can feel the stupid grin pulling at the corners of her mouth but Glinda can’t seem to find it in herself to play it cool.

Neither can the interviewer who gasps loudly. “Wow. That’s very exciting. How did that happen, how did you guys meet?”

Glinda laughs, suddenly nervous about telling this story. “Um, Elphaba actually ran into me at the airport in Paris when all the athletes were arriving. Like, she did not see me and physically ran into me,” she smiles at the memory. “And then it just went from there, like a literal, actual rom-com.”

The host stares at Glinda through the computer screen, mouth slightly ajar. “Is that a joke? You met her in the airport at the Olympics?”

“I wish it weren’t such a total cliche but that is one hundred percent what happened,” Glinda confirms.

“Wow,” the host repeats. “That’s really amazing. Now what can you tell us about your new beau?”

Glinda feels herself light up again at the question. “I mean, man, Elphaba really is just the coolest. She’s such an astonishing athlete but beyond that, the way that she carries herself as a person is incredibly inspiring. Did you know she’s getting a master’s degree from Harvard? It just – is there anything she can’t do? She’s thoughtful and insanely smart and we all saw how gracefully she stood up for herself and her beliefs at these games. I am in awe of her every day.”

“You wrote a short statement at the beginning of the Olympics that addressed some of the negative things people had been saying about Elphaba - talk to us about that decision.”

“There was no decision,” Glinda says firmly, remembering the call Elphaba had placed after she went off on that announcer for suggesting she participate in the Paralympics. “I felt I had a responsibility, as someone who has a following and a platform, to speak up. I saw the way they were treating her and I couldn’t sit idly by as someone I cared about was being disrespected within their own sport. It was a no-brainer. And if the situations were reversed, I know she would have done the same.”

“Love to hear that you two were sticking up for and supporting each other throughout these games. What’s next for Glinda Upland?”

Glinda laughs pleasantly, “Nothing too major, I hate to say. Just finishing out the season strong with Arsenal - very happy to be back on the pitch in London again. And then we’ve got a series of friendlies back stateside next month. But the Olympics was a lot, I’m looking forward to laying as low as I can for a while.”

“Well, hopefully, you can get some much-deserved rest. Glinda, thank you so much for coming on our show today, it was a pleasure catching up with you.”

“Thanks for having me, always glad to be here.”

Glinda turns off the camera and the mic and grabs her phone.

Glinda: heads up, i just outed u on a podcast

Glinda: not being released until next week so i can ask them to cut the part where i talk about us 

It takes Elphaba an agonizing two hours to respond to her message, and the entire time Glinda panics about having gone officially public without consulting her girlfriend first.

Finally, she texts back.

Elphaba: Sorry, I was at practice.

Elphaba: Fine by me, I thought we were already A Thing.

Glinda: u sure?

Glinda: i feel like i kinda took the decision-making power from u

Glinda: but she just asked about u point blank and i literally told everything

Glinda: my brain just turned off and i couldn’t shut up about u

Elphaba: I literally don’t care, G.

Elphaba: We’re dating, no?

Glinda: obviously, yeah

Elphaba: I don’t care who knows.

Elphaba: I’m not worried about how people find out.

Elphaba: Also: recall that you kissed me in front of 9 million people.

Glinda: are u ever gonna let me live that down?

Elphaba: Unlikely.

Elphaba: It was a supremely insane (and also baller) move.

Glinda: ur sure ur cool with the podcast coming out?

Elphaba: I appreciate you checking with me but I’m very cool with it.

Glinda breathes a sigh of relief that she didn’t know she had been holding.

Glinda: i like u a lot, elphaba thropp

Elphaba: I’m guessing I’ll get to hear all about it on a podcast next week.

Elphaba: (I like you, too.)

_________

The podcast comes out later that week to an absolute flurry of internet noise. Glinda, like Elphaba, had been at least somewhat under the impression that most people knew they were together. Unlike Elphaba, Glinda also knew that, unless stated outright, it was all just hearsay.

The interview Glinda had done put an end to the hearsay and suddenly she was viral again.

“USWNT star addresses rumors of relationship with Olympic sprinter”

“Glinda Upland and Elphaba Thropp: What We Know”

“Olympic superstar couple officially announces their budding romance”

And Twitter had plenty to say as well.

@positivelyemerald: I’m sorry, did anyone think they weren’t together???

@an_okay_time: I genuinely thought this was old news but happy for them

@woso99: look how fuckin giddy Upland is just talking about her

@arsenal_army: not gonna lie, the way they acted at the Olympics, I thought they’d been together for ages.

@soccer_not_football: I know! Wild that they literally just met that week.

_________

October 2024

“What are you doing for your birthday?” Elphaba asks during one of their frequent Facetime calls. The green woman is just returning home from the library and Glinda has her phone propped up in the bathroom as she gets ready for bed.

“Um, no real plans. I’ll probably go out with some of the girls. We have a home game the day before so couple of days off after.” Glinda says as she pulls her hair up in the mirror. “Why do you ask?”

“Just curious,” Elphaba hums, pulling her coat off and ambling towards her fridge. Glinda watches her pull out a beer and gives her a pointed look. “What? It’s my Friday, let a girl drink her IPA in peace.”

“Gross.”

Elphaba laughs and cracks open the can. “You and Boq both. No one wants to drink a beer with me anymore!”

“How is our dear Boq?” Glinda asks.

“He’s good - we just got dinner last night. Headed to LA next week to see my sister.”

“Is that weird for you?”

“That he’s dating my sister now?” Elphaba asks. “Not really. I was getting tired of them both talking to me about how much they liked the other.” She smiles. “I’m just glad I don’t have to be the middleman anymore.”

“Cute,” Glinda says. “I’m happy for them. I wish we’d gotten to spend more time with them in Paris.”

Elphaba nods, glint in her eye. “I guess you’ll just have to come out to Boston and see us.”

“I’ll be there soon-ish, Elphie,” she reminds the other woman.

Elphaba groans petulantly. “Not soon enough!”

“Don’t be a whiner,” Glinda says, wiping the light makeup off her face. “Tell me about your day.”

Elphaba huffs. “Nothing exciting. I trained with Dillamond this morning. Went to a lecture on the Arab Spring, spent some time in the library working on a paper. Now I’m drinking a beer and talking to a very pretty girl.”

Glinda can feel the flush bloom in her chest but tosses a barb right back at her girlfriend, “Should I go so you can chat with her?” She feigns innocence.

“Oh, she’s a comedian, too,” Elphaba says stone-faced.

“Bite me,” Glinda says. “What are we gonna do when I come visit?”

“Well, what do you miss most about living here?”

“Mexican food,” Glinda says without hesitation.

“Okay then,” Elphaba laughs, low and rumbling in a way that tugs achingly at something in Glinda's chest, “I guess we’ll be getting burritos.”

Glinda takes a deep and stuttering breath. She isn’t sure why she has to say this now, but suddenly it seems imperative, suddenly it seems as though the only thing that matters is telling Elphaba how she feels.

The sprinter seems to sense her pause in the conversation, her hesitation. Elphaba furrows her brow on the other end of the phone, “Glin…?”

She knows it’s too soon, knows she could scare the other woman off. But to ignore it feels impossible.

So she says it.

“Elphaba, I love you.”

The silence that follows is horrible.

Glinda doesn’t regret it, though.

“I don’t need you to say anything,” Glinda reassures the other woman, whose mouth is open as though looking for the right words and finding nothing. “I just need you to know. And I’m sorry it’s so quick, but I can’t help how I feel. We don’t have to talk about it, you don’t have to respond. Just know - I love you.”

Elphaba looks at her from across the camera.

“Glinda…” she says in a tone that isn’t quite pity but somewhere close.

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” the striker says, suddenly too aware of her blunder.

“No, G. I – just – I’m–” Elphaba starts several sentences and finishes none of them. Glinda watches the green woman take a sharp breath, steeling herself. “Glinda, I’m right there with you. I just – I need more time,” she practically pleads.

“I get it,” Glinda whispers. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Elphaba begs, eyes earnest even from through the screen. “Please don’t be. You have no idea how much that means to me. I’m all yours. You just have to give me a bit of time.”

Glinda sighs deeply, emotions threatening to spill over. “Take your time. There’s no right way to feel. I’m sorry if I made you feel rushed.”

“Honey, no,” Elphaba says, voice unendingly calm and steady. “That’s not it. You’re good, we’re good.”

Glinda nods, “We’re good. I know.”

_________

It’s been weird.

Glinda told Elphaba she loves her and Elphaba didn’t say it back and it’s been weird. Glinda has always been one to say how she feels, she doesn’t believe in beating around the bush or playing games with her feelings.

She loves Elphaba so she told her.

But Glinda can’t help but dwell on it.

A week after that conversation, she startles awake, grey sunlight filtering in through the sheer blinds. It takes a moment for Glinda to realize what caused her to jolt up in bed. There’s a rustling coming from her kitchen and suddenly her heart is hammering in her chest, adrenaline going into overdrive. She moves as slowly as possible, slipping out from under the sheets as the sound of dishes clinking reaches her ears.

Glinda pulls open the door, silently thanking whoever is listening for making sure the hinges didn’t creak.

Someone is in my fucking house, is all Glinda can think. Grabbing the nearest object, a long-handled broom, she steels herself and peeks around the corner, heart in her throat.

Most of her kitchen cupboards are flung open and a hooded figure, back to Glinda, is reaching into a cabinet and pulling down… a pair of mugs? Glinda's confusion grows tenfold, grip on the broom handle tightening. She watches from the doorway as green hands close the cabinet.

“Elphaba?” She asks, too loud for the otherwise silent room.

The figure whips around, hood falling off to reveal her girlfriend. The one who lives an entire ocean away, the one who had no plans to be in England, as far as Glinda knew.

Elphaba’s hand goes quickly to her chest. “Jesus, you scared the shit out of me.”

Glinda’s shock is still wearing away as she says, “Why are you in my kitchen?!”

The blonde watches Elphaba’s gaze drag over her and Glinda suddenly remembers that she’s clad in one of Elphaba’s too-large t-shirts and nothing else.

“I was going to make you a coffee,” Elphaba says as though that explains everything. “Are you planning on bludgeoning me to death with a broom?”

Glinda lets the broom lean against the doorframe. “Not anymore but I thought about it.”

“That seems rather drastic.” Neither woman has moved, still standing on opposite sides of the kitchen, letting their respective frights diminish.

“That seems drastic? You broke into my home!” Glinda sputters.

“I wanted to surprise you,” Elphaba defends herself.

Glinda takes a deep breath, composure finally returning. “Mission accomplished.” Finally, the blonde returns to herself and crosses the room in a few measured steps, folding herself into the taller woman. Elphaba pulls her in easily, hands coming to rest at her shoulders. “Hi,” Glinda mutters eventually, sound mostly swallowed by the fabric of Elphaba’s hoodie.

“Hi,” Elphaba responds brightly, leaving a kiss against the side of Glinda’s head.

“How are you in my kitchen right now?” Glinda asks again.

Elphaba rumbles out a low laugh, still holding Glinda tightly against her chest. “I wanted to see you,” she says easily.

“That simple?”

“That simple,” Elphaba confirms, letting Glinda out of her grasp. “Actually, getting here was insanely complicated but that’s a story for later.”

Glinda doesn’t want to be anywhere but in the other woman's arms so she falls back into Elphaba’s chest, hiding a blooming grin against her shoulder. “How long are you here?” She mumbles.

“I have to fly home late on the 22nd.”

“That’s…” Glinda tallies the time, “four days. And you’re here for my birthday?” She feels Elphaba nod. “How’d you swing that one?”

“I owe a couple favors and had to pull an all-nighter to get a paper turned in early,” the green woman admits. “Worth it though,” she says before Glinda can scold her.

Glinda squeezes her shoulder. “Okay. Now you can make me a coffee.”

Elphaba chuckles and pulls away from the smaller woman, gesturing around the kitchen at all the open cabinets. “I tried but I couldn’t actually find your coffee beans.”

Glinda opens one of the few unopened drawers with a flourish, “Believe it or not, I keep the coffee right next to the coffee maker,” she mocks.

Elphaba reaches over her to grab the bag of beans but before the gets there, Glinda tugs on the collar of her sweatshirt, pulling Elphaba into a soft, steady, sure kiss. Elphaba’s hands fall to Glinda’s waist, pulling her close, but the kiss remains chaste.

“I’m so happy to see you,” Glinda whispers when they part.

Elphaba kisses her again quickly. “I’m even happier to be here,” she says, grabbing the coffee and turning from the blonde to grind the beans.

“Elphie,” Glinda says as though the thought it just occurring to her. “How exactly did you break into my flat?”

Elphaba starts the coffee machine and replies, “I did not break in, Milla let me in.”

Glinda stares at Elphaba, slack-jawed. “You enlisted Milla?”

Elphaba blushes, “I wanted it to be a surprise.”

Glinda stomps off in the direction of her bedroom, throwing on a pair of sweats and grabbing her phone.

Glinda: u kept a secret from me????

Glinda: bitch!!

Milla: yeah but I did it for LOVE, Glinda!

Milla: tell Harvard she owes me

Glinda: u annoy me and i adore you deeply

Milla: you’re welcome

“Can’t believe the two of you conspired against me,” Glinda huffs, plopping down on the couch as Elphaba adds cream to one of the coffees and hands it off to Glinda.

“It was for a good cause, babe,” Elphaba laughs, settling in next to her and throwing her long legs across Glinda’s lap. “Also, I’m operating under the assumption that I’m staying with you since I didn’t book a hotel.”

“Obviously,” Glinda says, free hand settling on the green woman’s knee, thumb running lazy arcs against the fabric of her pants. She sips her coffee to hide her smile.

“And I have a ticket to your game tomorrow,” Elphaba adds, a glint in her eye.

“You’re something else, Thropp,” Glinda says, shaking her head in disbelief. “I can’t believe you flew across the Atlantic Ocean and broke into my flat just to hang out with me.”

Elphaba leans forward, placing a feather-light kiss to the corner of Glinda’s mouth. “Anything for you,” she whispers, taking the mug out of Glinda’s hand and setting it on the table before kissing her deeply.

Glinda moans into her mouth and lets the taller woman lay her out on the couch, Elphaba pressing the length of her body against Glinda’s. “I missed you,” Glinda says, breathing the admission into the space between them. 

“I’m right here, baby,” Elphaba hums against her lips, hand finding its way below the hem of Glinda’s shirt. Glinda sits up, pushing Elphaba with her and tugging her sweatshirt off.

They don’t even make it to the bedroom, undressing each other hastily, desperate to feel the heat of skin on skin. It’s only a matter of time before Elphaba is on her knees with Glinda’s legs slotted over her shoulders and her name in Glinda’s mouth.

When Elphaba finally sits back on her heels, wiping her chin on her forearm, Glinda flushed and breathless, the green woman says with a smirk, “I really missed you.”

_________

Their long weekend together passes too quickly.

Elphaba watches the Arsenal match from the sidelines, Glinda kissing her deeply after their win to wild cheering from the fan section.

Elphaba lets Glinda lead her around London the following day. They hold hands and wander around Camden, window shopping and stopping for Thai food for lunch. Elphaba makes her stop in multiple different coffee shops, citing her jetlag as she downs her third iced coffee of the day. Glinda can’t help but wonder if this is what her life would look like if they lived together. She can’t help but want it with every fiber of her being.

They go out with Glinda’s teammates that evening and Elphaba wins a lot of points with the squad when she offers to buy the first round. Glinda is again struck by how easily Elphaba ingratiates herself with this team, much as she had with the US team at the Olympics. But Glinda also understands that Elphaba has a certain magnetism to her - people are drawn to her whether the green girl wants it or not. She takes the attention with humility and grace, shrugging the spotlight back onto Glinda as much as possible.

Elphaba just laughs deeply when the group heckles them as the couple leaves early. Glinda doesn’t make any excuses, instead gesturing at the sprinter saying, “Sorry, gals, she’s just simply too pretty - I’m gonna go home with her now.”

“You’re only getting away with this because it’s your birthday, Upland,” Milla yells as Glinda pulls her girlfriend out of the bar.

Back in Glinda’s flat, the two women are sharply aware of the little time they have left together. Elphaba pulls Glinda into her, holding tight to her smaller frame as they stand together in the middle of the room. Eventually, Elphaba pulls back, looking softly at Glinda, gaze filled with a tenderness that Glinda isn’t yet used to.

Elphaba gives her a half smile. “I love you, G.”

Glinda’s breath catches in her throat, caught by Elphaba's unexpected confession. “Elphie, you don’t have to say that just because I did.”

Elphaba kisses her so softly, so full of affection, that Glinda can barely think straight.

“I’m not,” Elphaba assures her. “I’m sorry it took me this long. I think I was scared.”

“Scared of what?” Glinda asks.

“I was scared of what I felt for you, how quickly you came into my life and made it make sense to me,” Elphaba says, voice low and vulnerable. “I love you. I’ve loved you for some time, I think.”

Glinda surges onto her toes and kisses Elphaba soundly, hands grabbing at her sharp jaw. “I love you, Elphaba Thropp.”

“I love you,” Elphaba says, kissing Glinda back.

“Say it again,” Glinda whispers.

“I love you,” she kisses Glinda again. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” She repeats it like a mantra, placing a soft kiss to Glinda’s lips each time.

“I wish you didn’t have to go,” Glinda says, voice small.

Elphaba’s hand comes to rest at her cheek. “Me too, honey. But I’m here now.”

They collapse into bed sometime later, bodies slotting together as though carved from the same stone. Glinda feels Elphaba’s gentle hands trace the ink splashed across her back. Glinda shifts so she’s lying on her front, allowing Elphaba to continue drawing the lines of her tattoo with her fingers. She follows the dips and curves of Glinda’s back, and the blonde can nearly feel the reverence with which Elphaba touches her.

Slowly, the gentle touch lulls Glinda to sleep. Just before she falls asleep, she feels Elphaba leave a soft kiss to her shoulder and hears her whisper:

“I think I could do this forever.”

(She does.)

_________

December 2024

Elphaba is wearing a beanie pulled low across her brow to ward off the New England chill. Glinda has her phone propped up in her kitchen as she cooks.

“Are you… biking right now?”

“Yes, ma’am. It’s freezing, I regret it,” Elphaba says, breath fogging into the bright afternoon air.

Glinda glares at her. “Wear a helmet. Call me back when you’re home.”

Elphaba glances down to where her phone must be clipped to the handlebars and gives a two fingered wave. "Love ya," she throws out nonchalantly before closing out of the call. Glinda's knees go weak at the casual sweetness of the sentiment. 

She calls back 10 minutes later, beanie off, hair only somewhat wild.

“What are you doing for Christmas?” Glinda asks innocently enough.

“I have to be in Boston,” Elphaba says, cheeks still flushed a deep emerald from the cold. “Training is getting strict again - Indoor is in March and I need to pull it together if I want a shot at a medal.”

Glinda frowns. “You’re going to be training on Christmas?”

“I mean, I’ll probably have a couple of days off but not long enough to come see you, I don’t think.”

Glinda looks at her girlfriend expectantly. “Would you have enough time to come to California?”

Elphaba blinks in surprise. “You’re going to go visit your folks?”

“I think so,” Glinda admits. “My dad was sick but is on the mend now - I haven’t been home in a few years. It’s time.”

Elphaba smiles warmly from the other side of the phone. “That sounds nice.”

Glinda hums. “They moved out to the country, too. It’ll be nice to get away.” She pauses pointedly. “You can come with me if you want. My parents are dying to meet you.”

Elphaba had met Glinda’s parents on Facetime once before when Glinda had been staying with the sprinter in Boston the month before. It was quick - Elphaba just popping into the frame and saying hello while Glinda had called her mom - but enough to give her a healthy dose of nerves.

“I wouldn’t want to intrude on your family Christmas, G,” Elphaba says shyly.

Glinda stops cooking and taps on her phone for a moment. “My mom texted me this morning and said, and I quote, ‘Please let your darling green girlfriend know she’s more than welcome to do Christmas with us.’” Glinda taps back to the video call with Elphaba. “Sorry she called you green - I’ll talk to her about that - but the sentiment remains.”

“She’s not wrong, I am green,” Elphaba says, tone teasing. “Send me the dates you’re going to be there and I’ll see if I can’t wiggle my schedule around.”

“Please do wiggle,” Glinda laughs. “I want to see you.” She watches as Elphaba’s smiles only increases in wattage.

_________

Glinda posts a video to her Instagram. In it, the blonde is sitting in the passenger seat of what looks like a somewhat beat-up truck, and Elphaba is in the driver seat looking at the dashboard as though it were a book written in a lost language.

The green woman looks up when she realizes Glinda is taking a video.

“Do not tell the internet I don’t know how to drive,” Elphaba grits out.

Glinda smirks and turns back to the camera, “Hello everyone,” she addresses a nonexistent audience. “We’re here in the hills of Northern California and I’ve just learned that Elphaba does actually have a flaw. Just one though.” Elphaba’s head falls to the steering wheel, jade blush creeping up her sharp cheeks. “She never learned how to drive! She’s 25 years old!”

“Sorry I live in a city with great public transit!” Elphaba defends herself, forehead still pressed against the wheel.

“Mostly, I’m just shocked that we’ve been dating this long and the car thing has never come up.”

Elphaba picks herself off the steering wheel and leans into Glinda’s space, face nearly eclipsing hers as she gets closer to the camera. “Let the record state that cars are bad for the environment and bikes are way cooler anyway.”

“Why lie about it, then?” Glinda asks tone jokingly accusatory.

“I never lied!” Elphaba maintains. “You just never asked me, ‘Hey, Elphaba, do you have your driver's license?’”

Glinda looks back into the camera. “So I’m going to teach her how to drive - stay tuned.”

The video becomes a timelapse as they move in hyperspeed, Glinda pointing at things on the dash, the pedals, the turn signal, and so on. Elphaba can be seen occasionally rolling her eyes and throwing her hands up in defeat or argument. The car jolts forward several times, Elphaba’s knuckles turning pale where they grip the wheel. At some point, the windshield wipers turn on.

Eventually, the video returns to normal speed, Glinda’s face taking up most of the screen as she gets out of the car. “Turns out,” she says into the phone, “you can be an Olympic medalist and have an advanced degree from Harvard and still be the stupidest person on earth.”

Elphaba can be heard in the background, yelling out an indignant, “Hey!”

“Thank god I’m only with her for her good looks - she’s beyond help,” Glinda says laughing and flipping the camera around to show a sulking Elphaba walking around the front of the car to trade places with Glinda. 

@sprintnation: literally obsessed with their dynamics

@heart_thropp: nothing matters to me except that they both live forever and nothing bad ever happens to them

@gaylindaupland: Glinda Upland teaching Elphaba Thropp to drive was not on my 2024 bingo card

@rightsidestrongside: BEGGING for this to become a series

Elphaba posts a photo on her still-rarely-used Instagram: a selfie she had taken of the two of them, it’s blurry and out of focus, and in it, Elphaba’s eyes are closed mid-laugh as Glinda smushes her face too aggressively into Elphaba’s, leaving a sloppy, stupid kiss to her cheek. Elphaba has a green arm wrapped tightly around her shoulder.

They don’t have a lot of photos together, mostly because they haven’t spent a lot of time in the same place together. But this one quickly becomes one of Glinda’s favorites. It’s silly and stupid and so impossibly them. When Glinda gets home from visiting her parents, she gets it printed and tacks it to her fridge.

Elphaba captions her post: She didn’t teach me how to drive but I still love her.

_________

March 2025

Glinda posts on her story, time-stamped at 4:30 am with the caption: “do NOT date an athlete! u will have to wake up in the middle of the night to watch them run in circles!”

Followed closely by another post, a video of Glinda’s TV, zoomed in on Elphaba as she prepares to run in the qualifying round for the World Indoor Athletic competition. “just kidding, watching @e_thropp compete is the highlight of my life.”

Elphaba comes away from the Indoor comp with two gold medals - the 200 and 400.

Glinda calls her the following day, time difference and travel days making it harder to connect than normal.

“Hi there,” she says when the call connects. “Am I speaking to multiple gold medal-winning runner, Elphaba Thropp?”

Elphaba laughs on the other line, “You’re insane.”

“You’re insane! How are you so fast?”

Her girlfriend laughs again, “The competition is significantly less stiff for Indoor, especially coming off an Olympics cycle.”

“Whatever,” Glinda dismisses. “You’re still something else.”

Elphaba changes the subject, “I’m happy to hear your voice,” she says, low and genuine. “What are you doing at the end of May?”

“Club season ends the second week of May so I’m pretty free after that,” Glinda says. “Why? You wanna hang out or something?”

“Against their better judgment, Harvard is letting me graduate. May 24th. If you can swing it, I’d love to have you here,” Elphaba says, suddenly turning shy. “Nessa is coming in and Boq will be here too.”

Glinda smiles even though she knows Elphaba can’t see it. “Nothing I want more. I’ll buy my tickets right now.”

“I love you so much,” Elphaba says and Glinda can hear her stifling a yawn.

“I love you, too. What time is it where you are?” She asks.

“Honestly no idea. I’m actually in the Frankfurt airport. I have had the travel day from hell.” Glinda faintly hears Elphaba talking to someone else in the background. “Dillamond says hi, by the way.”

“Hi, Dillamond. Frankfurt?” Glinda asks.

Elphaba yawns again, “Honestly, I don’t even know how we ended up here but I think we’re supposed to be boarding soon.”

“Have you considered telling the airline that you’re a famous athlete?” Glinda jokes.

“Something tells me that wouldn’t make the plane go any faster.” Glinda knows she shouldn’t be so attracted to the gravelly rasp of Elphaba’s voice over the phone but she can’t help it. It just brings to mind the late nights and early mornings, Elphaba whispering softly in her ear, voice lazy with sleep.

“Fly safe, babe,” Glinda says. “Text me when you land, okay?”

“Always, Upland. Love you.” Glinda can hear the smile in her voice.

“Love you.”

_________

May 2025

Since the very beginning of their relationship, since their run-in at the Paris airport, they have both become experts in not talking about what comes next. It’s not that Glinda isn’t thinking about the future, it’s just that she doesn't want to imagine a future that doesn’t include Elphaba. But everything about their lives has been incompatible and to address that would be to ask the question, “What on earth are we doing here?”

So, no, they haven’t talked about what happens when Elphaba graduates.

Glinda isn’t even sure Elphaba knows she’s graduating, that’s how much the other woman hasn’t talked about it. Elphaba hasn’t made any indication of what her life will look like when she gets her degree and Glinda hasn’t wanted to pry, letting her girlfriend figure it out in her own time.

But now that the time is upon them, Glinda is planning on sitting Elphaba down to have an honest conversation. She’s not necessarily looking forward to it, but she wants Elphaba to know where she stands.

The footballer arrived in Boston the evening before, Elphaba meeting her at the airport. They were only stopped twice on their way out for photos and Glinda is learning that, as much as she may be able to throw on a hat or sunglasses to avoid being recognized, there’s no evading the occasional photo or autograph request when she’s with Elphaba.

But now she’s sitting in the sun with Boq and Nessarose, as the graduation ceremony drones on. At one point Glinda leans over to Nessa and whispers, “You guys could have done us all a favor and been earlier in the alphabet.”

Nessa tries to stifle a laugh and bites back pointedly, “Didn’t realize you got to complain, Upland.”

When Elphaba finally walks across the stage and receives her diploma, she’s greeted with a hardier cheer than most of her classmates. A look of shock flickering across her face at the applause, somehow forgetting she’s one of Harvard's more decorated Olympians.

Glinda and Boq jump to their feet, screaming louder than most, and Elphaba spots them in the crowd, giving a small wave as she returns to her seat.

They find Elphaba among the throng after the ceremony, Glinda jumping easily into her arms, whispering, “I’m so proud of you, Elphie.”

Elphaba sets her down and kisses her deeply, “I love you,” she says, eyes sparkling. She turns to her sister and Boq, hugging them and thanking them endlessly.

The four of them make plans to treat Elphaba to dinner that evening before parting ways for the remainder of the afternoon.

Back in Elphaba’s apartment, Glinda kisses the sprinter again, much less chastely than before. She pulls back before wandering hands can get carried away. “I mean it, Elphaba, I’m so insanely proud of you.”

Elphaba blushes but Glinda pushes on, “Really. You’re incredible. I’m lucky I get to share a tiny sliver of your life.” She puts her hands against Elphaba’s chest. “I love you. I’m excited to see what you have in store for the world.”

“I have something for you,” Elphaba says suddenly, spinning out of Glinda’s grip and fishing for something in her overflowing bookbag.

“What do you mean? This is your thing, I’m supposed to have something for you,” Glinda argues.

Elphaba comes back holding an envelope already ripped open. She hands it to Glinda wordlessly.

Dear Mrs. Thropp,

Thank you for your interest in Queen Mary University. We’re pleased to offer you an Associate Teaching position in the Political Studies Department…

Glinda stops reading.

“Elphie,” she whispers, looking up at her girlfriend, who flashes a sharp smile at her. “Where is Queen Mary University?”

Elphaba grins wider. “East End.”

“… of what city?” Glinda urges.

“London. It’s in the East End of London, G.”

Glinda exhales slowly, letting out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

“This makes my grand gesture look a whole lot less grand,” Glinda says with a wet laugh, pulling a small box from her bag and handing it to Elphaba.

Elphaba undoes the ribbon slowly, opening the box to reveal a pair of keys. “… is this a metaphor?” She asks, confused.

“I just signed a lease on a new place in Hackney. Those are the keys. I want you to keep one.”

“You’re asking me to move in with you?” Elphaba looks shocked and touched and confused at the same time.

Glinda nods, not trusting her voice.

“Why didn’t you tell me you found a new place?” The green girl asks.

Glinda laughs, eyes brimming. “We’ve both been keeping secrets, it seems.”

Elphaba reaches forward and places a strong hand over Glinda’s, thumb brushing delicately across her knuckles. “I didn’t think I was going to get the job,” she admits shakily. “I didn’t want to get my hopes up for nothing.”

Glinda pulls Elphaba’s hand to her lips and leaves a soft kiss on her palm. “How are you going to train if you move to London?” Glinda asks, suddenly thinking of the practicalities of her request.

“I’ll fly back to Boston every couple of months to work with Dillamond but I’ve already been talking to trainers over there. I have a two-year-long contract at Queen Mary, once that’s up, I’ll probably move back to Boston full-time but only until the Olympics. Then I’m going to retire.”

Glinda lets out a low whistle. “You’ve been thinking about this.”

“I have,” Elphaba admits. “I was planning on having a real conversation with you about it but I wanted to make sure I had all my ducks in a row first.”

“Are you really ready to retire?”

“Not yet,” Elphaba smirks. “It’s just over three years until LA. There’s almost nothing I want more than to stand on a podium in my city. After that, my running career can be over.”

“Almost nothing?” Glinda parrots back.

Elphaba kisses Glinda with a tenderness that nearly makes Glinda cry. “I want you more - I want this more. I love running more than anything but if I can’t have that and you, then I don’t want to run.” Glinda does cry now.

“I would never let you give that up for me. We’ll find a way to have both, to have it all,” Glinda promises as tears slip down her cheeks. Elphaba brushes them away lovingly. “I’m not sad, I promise,” Glinda laughs wetly. “I’m just so in love with you.”

“I love you,” Elphaba says with such sincerity that Glinda feels it in every fiber of her being.

“So you’ll move in with me?” She asks.

Elphaba throws her head back and cackles loudly, “Glin, I was really hoping you’d ask because I already took the job and don’t have a place to live.”

“Perfect,” Glinda grins up at Elphaba and kisses her with everything she has.

_________

September 2025

“How do you have almost nothing?” Glinda asks, looking around the flat. Elphaba’s most significant contribution to their new shared space was the bicycle she was currently reassembling in the living room.

“Well, up until very recently I was a broke student and a relatively unknown athlete,” Elphaba says offhandedly, focused on making sure her bike was okay after having been shipped from Boston. “And now I’m a broke associate professor and a relatively unknown athlete.”

Glinda playfully flicks the back of her head, “Shut it, you’re way more famous than I am.”

“Not true, I’m just green.”

Glinda rolls her eyes as she heads into the kitchen. She’s been living in the new flat for a month now, and it wasn’t difficult to make space for Elphaba and her remarkably few things.

“Why don’t you have any furniture, Glinda?” Elphaba asks, standing and wiping her grease-stained hands on her jeans.

“I already told you,” Glinda shouts, head in the fridge, “I wanted to wait for you so we could pick stuff out together!” Glinda emerges from the kitchen, bottle of champagne in hand. “Now let’s sit on the floor and celebrate our new home.”

Elphaba laughs and takes the glasses from her, “The only time I’ve ever had champagne with you was when you were spraying it out of a bottle - do I need to go find the ski goggles?”

Glinda just glares playfully and makes a show of carefully uncorking the bottle (much nicer than anything she’s ever wasted in locker rooms). They clink their glasses together and order take out and sit cross-legged on the hardwood floor of their sparse home.

Glinda posts a photo: Elphaba standing on the stoop of their new home, holding her single box of things, team USA duffle over her shoulder. The sprinter grins goofily at the camera. “Does it still count as U-hauling if it took over a year?” Glinda captions the post.

For the first time since their two weeks together in Avignon (was that really a year ago, Glinda asks herself), Glinda feels a sense of contentment. There isn’t any urgency. They’re not working with a few stolen days. Elphaba lives here now, with her.

Glinda watches Elphaba animatedly telling a story of her latest airfare nightmare (because somehow she has the worst travel luck of all time), her hands are gesturing wildly and her eyes are full of laughter and Glinda has never been so in love with someone.

She takes Elphaba’s glass from her and sets it on the floor, cutting her off and settling herself into Elphaba’s lap, hands threading through dark hair.

“I guess I’ll finish that story later,” Elphaba mutters, her hands falling to Glinda’s waist as the blonde woman straddles her lap. Their lips find each other easily and Elphaba must be feeling the same sense of complacency, no longer wanting or needing to rush into one another. Elphaba takes her time pulling Glinda’s shirt over her head, mouth going instinctively to the newly exposed skin.

They don’t bother to get up off the floor, not wanting to break the spell as Glinda undresses the green woman languidly, hands flitting over lithe muscle. She gently pushes the green girl into the floor, laying halfway on top of her, slotting a thigh between her legs.

Elphaba groans softly, pulling Glinda closer against her, gently sinking her teeth into Glinda’s lower lip as they kiss, unhurried. Glinda’s fingers skate across sharp hip bones and soft skin, teasing and drawing faint sighs from the other woman.

“Welcome home,” Glinda whispers, finally dipping her fingers where they’re so desperately needed.

The pace never increases to anything past languid, Glinda slowly curling her fingers, thumb lazily circling Elphaba’s clit. The green woman lets herself be fucked achingly and torturously slowly, letting the heat build between them, until her back is arching off the floorboards and Glinda swallows her groan with a kiss.

Glinda removes her hand and brushes a stray strand of hair out of Elphaba’s face, dropping a chaste kiss to her lips.

“I love you,” Elphaba says, still breathless, eyes earnest. Glinda lets her hand continue to roam over Elphaba’s body, always in awe of her.

“This is my favorite thing,” Glinda admits, naked body pressed into her girlfriends, hand wandering across verdant skin.

“What? Sex?” Elphaba asks.

“Well - I do love that,” Glinda chuckles. “But no, I mean this,” she lets her fingers trace the spaces between Elphaba’s ribs. “I think it’s so pretty - my skin on yours. You’re so beautiful. I love the contrast.”

The two women watch as Glinda continues to draw measured patterns across the green skin of Elphaba’s chest and stomach. “You’re the pretty one,” Elphaba says and Glinda can hear the self-deprecation coming.

“Don’t you start,” Glinda warns, voice still playful.

“I mean it,” Elphaba argues, sitting up and bringing Glinda with her. “Look at you,” she gestures at Glinda’s nakedness. “You’re stunning! Truly. I know you can look past the green thing but even then, I don’t hold a candle to all this.”

Glinda blinks in surprise. “What do you mean I can ‘look past the green thing?’”

“I just mean that we’ve been together long enough that it probably doesn’t bother you anymore, right?”

“It never bothered me, Elphaba,” Glinda says with conviction. “And I don’t look past it, either. It’s not something that I’ve just gotten used to over time and now I don’t notice.” Glinda realizes that her tone is verging on aggressive and she softens immediately. “Baby, you’re stunning. And not in spite of the green - I love that you’re green. It’s striking, it suits you.”

Elphaba doesn’t meet her eyes. “You mean that?” She asks, voice uncharacteristically small.

Glinda pulls herself back into Elphaba’s lap, straddling her hips, and tilts her chin until she’s looking up at Glinda. “Elphie, of course I mean it. And I’m sorry I’ve gone this long without saying so; I thought you knew how much I liked you - all of you.”

“I do,” Elphaba sighs, hands falling to Glinda’s hips. “I just - sometimes it takes a while to get used to.”

“What? That someone could love you and your wicked green self?" Glinda asks. “I guess I’ll just have to keep showing you how easy it is,” she laughs and slips her hands back into Elphaba’s raven-dark hair, tugging at her jaw and kissing her soundly.

“I love you,” Elphaba says, quietly and clearly when they pull apart.

Glinda rests her forehead against Elphaba’s, slotting their noses together. “I love you,” she breathes into the space between them.

_________

For the first time, Glinda gets to watch Elphaba compete in person.

She manages to appeal to her coach and get a couple days off from training at the end of September and she flies with Elphaba to Tokyo for the World Athletic Championships.

Elphaba had explained that, outside of the Olympics, this was the most important event for Track and Field athletes. The sprinter qualified for the same three races she ran during the Olympics the year before: 200, 400, and hurdles.

“All I care about is the 200,” Elphaba says after they check into their hotel. “I mean, I know the other races are important but there’s a lot of pressure to defend the Olympic gold.”

“I get it,” Glinda agrees. “You’ve done the work, just run like you always do.”

Elphaba nods, “My only concern is that the Jamaican runner who beat me last year at World’s is back from injury and running well - that was my stiffest competition.”

Glinda grabs her shoulders, “What’s going on? It’s not like you to spin out over this.”

Elphaba looks down, chagrined. “I don’t know. I think I might be nervous that you’re here? Which is crazy because I know you watch all my races but something about having you here physically is making me nervous. Is that crazy?”

Glinda cuts off her rambling with a swift kiss. “It’s not crazy - I can stay and watch from here if that makes you more comfortable?”

Elphaba shakes her head, “No, I want you there. I also just really want to do well - to impress you.”

“Elphaba, you’re the most impressive person I know, even if you don’t medal,” Glinda says lightly. “You don’t need to worry about impressing me, you’ve already got all this locked down,” she gestures to herself.

Glinda’s attempt at humor worked and Elphaba seemed to calm down a bit ahead of her first race.

Once in the arena, Glinda catches Elphaba’s eye as she warms up on the track. Elphaba throws up a wave as she stretches, looking around to make sure no one is watching as she jogs over to where Glinda’s sitting.

Glinda leans down from the stands and kisses her girlfriend quickly. “Are you supposed to be here?”

“Nope,” Elphaba replies, smiling.

She kisses Glinda again. “Run fast, love,” Glinda says before pushing Elphaba back towards the track.

_________

Elphaba qualifies for the finals in all three of her events, blazing through in the 200 and 400, and eking out a tight third-place finish in the hurdles. Enough to get her through.

She finds Glinda after coming out of the ice bath. She’s wearing a sports bra and running shorts and Glinda can’t help the momentary weakness of her knees when her girlfriend turns the corner.

“Hey, hot stuff,” she calls and Elphaba’s smile cranks up a notch as she practically skips up to the footballer.

“Hi.”

“You looked good out there. It’s totally different in person - you’re very fast,” Glinda compliments.

Elphaba’s smile falters, “I’m going to be a total dick right now,” she warns Glinda.

The blonde is already several steps ahead, “You’re going to stay at the team housing tonight?”

“How’d you know?” She narrows her eyes.

Glinda huffs and idly places a hand at Elphaba’s hip. “I know you.”

“It’s nothing personal, I just need to focus and you are so incredibly distracting,” she drawls, voice dropping an octave, reaching for Glinda’s waist.

Glinda swats her hand away, “That’s enough of that. Don’t worry about it - I’ll still be here to watch.”

“You’re a good one, Glinda Upland.”

“Love you too - run fast tomorrow,” she smirks, blowing a kiss over her shoulder.

_________

Glinda watches on the Jumbotron as Elphaba gives a post-race interview.

“Elphaba, congrats on the win,” the interviewer says and Elphaba has to lean in to hear him over the roar of the crowd. “How does it feel to back up your Olympic gold with a win here at World’s?”

Elphaba nods, “It feels really good. I think it just shows that the Olympics wasn’t a fluke, that I deserve to be here winning medals.”

“What’s next for you?”

“No clue,” she laughs. “I have a day job and a girlfriend to get back to - I’m still training just as hard as ever and setting my sights on Nationals next year but real-life calls for the foreseeable future.”

“We’ll let you get back to it - congratulations again. Elphaba Thropp - just won the gold medal in the 200 meters and silver in the 400. Back to you in the studio.”

Elphaba thanks the interviewer and bounds over to where Glinda is cheering wildly, Elphaba hops easily over the barrier and into Glinda’s arms.

“I knew you could do it, Elphie,” Glinda yells at her, getting overly excited. “I love you so fucking much, you brilliant woman!”

Elphaba just laughs and holds her close to her chest.

“Let’s go home,” Elphaba says.

_________

Elphaba gets another tattoo after this gold medal win.

“Run fast” it reads, just above her right knee in Glinda’s looping script, pulled from the note that Glinda had written to Elphaba when she sent her the jersey in the Olympic Village. She didn’t even know Elphaba had kept the note but when she asked, Elphaba blushed and pulled it from her wallet, edges worn from folding and unfolding.

“Why is it upside down?” Glinda asks when she sees the tattoo.

Elphaba rolls her eyes and gets into her crouch in the middle of their living room. She lines her hands up against the hardwood as though preparing for an actual race. Glinda stands next to her, utterly confused. When Elphaba raises into her stance, she points at her bent knee and looks up at Glinda.

“It’s not upside down - I am,” she explains. “It’s the last thing I see before the gun goes off.”

Glinda’s breath catches.

“You’re the last thing I think about before the gun goes off.”

Chapter Text

Hometown Runner, Elphaba Thropp, Set to be US Olympic Flag Bearer

After a publicity-fueled debut Olympics in 2024, short-distance sprinter Elphaba Thropp has been named the flag bearer for the US team next week during the Opening Ceremonies in Los Angeles. Thropp, an LA native, said in a statement that “carrying the flag for my country, in my city, is the highest honor of my career. Los Angeles means the world to me and I can’t wait to represent this city at the Olympics.”

Thropp won gold and bronze medals in Paris. She also won the hearts of millions throughout the games as she spoke out against the mistreatment of athletes by fans and media.

She continued to go viral well after the Olympics ended for her now-well-known relationship with women’s soccer star Glinda Upland.

Thropp and Upland have been together since meeting at the Paris games and are both fan-favorites in Los Angeles. They live and train in London.

The Opening Ceremonies begin next Friday at 5 pm PST.

_________

July 2028

“I’m excited to see Milla.”

“You guys hung out right before we left.” Glinda rolls her eyes lovingly. “I knew you two being friends would be a nightmare.”

“It’s not a nightmare!” Elphaba argues. “You love us!”

“I suppose you’re right,” Glinda sighs dramatically.

Unlike in 2024, all of the soccer games are being played in LA during these Olympics, which Glinda is thankful for. It just means less travel, more time to rest between matches, and bigger crowds at their games. That being said, the US team tends to remain fairly sequestered during their tournament. So now Glinda and Elphaba are in the all-too-familiar position of catching up via Facetime.

Elphaba is already through to the finals in the 200 and 400 - she had dropped the hurdles from her repertoire last year, choosing to focus on the two races she knew were her best shot. Glinda and her team advanced to the finals, beating Canada in penalty kicks earlier in the week to secure their spot in the gold medal match.

The schedule doesn’t favor the Olympic super-star couple this year: both of Elphaba’s medal races are set to fall during the USWNT’s final match - something Elphaba has already whined about at length.

“If you have the time,” Glinda continues, “and only if you feel up for it –”

“I know, Glin,” Elphaba interrupts. “I’m going to haul ass from downtown to the Rose Bowl. I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she promises, her sharp smile blinding even through the screen.

“You’re the best, Elphaba Thropp.”

“Kick some ass, G,” Elphaba says.

Glinda repeats a now-familiar phrase: “Run fast out there, baby.”

“I will,” she grins. "Love you."

_________

“Elphaba, this is a sight we don’t see too often. You’re wearing the pink bib which means you’re the defending champion in the 200 meters from Paris. You’re also wearing the gold medal.”

For the first time in her track career, Elphaba finds herself at a loss for words, a tear slips from the corner of her eye. “I don’t know what to say, honestly.” She wipes at her face. “To be standing here, in front of my hometown crowd…” she fades off as the cheering grows wild at the mention of Elphaba’s Los Angeles roots. “It’s the most awe-inspiring feeling in the world.”

The broadcast cuts off from the Jumbotron but the interview continues on TV.

“Describe how you’re feeling in this moment, Elphaba.” The interviewer asks. 

She takes a deep breath. “Running is everything to me. It gave me everything: my closest friends, my relationship to my sister, my girlfriend, my career, my home.” Elphaba’s emotions rise to the fore again. “I can’t even begin to explain how running saved and changed my life, how running at the Olympics changed my life. I could sit here all day and talk about it but a very incredible woman I met at the last Olympics is currently playing for her own medal and I really need to be there.”

The interviewer laughs and wraps it up, “Congratulations, Elphaba and good luck to Glinda Upland and the rest of her team, we’re following the match up in the studio. It’s electric here at historic Memorial Coliseum for hometown hero, Elphaba Thropp, winner of two Olympic gold medals today.”

“Thank you,” Elphaba says graciously, looking directly into the camera. “Love you, Los Angeles. Let’s go number four!” And then she’s running again, off the media stage and into the locker room, changing as quickly as she can and slipping into a waiting car outside the stadium.

“How long will it take?” She asks the driver.

“There’s some traffic - 35 minutes, probably.”

“Ah, fuck,” Elphaba says aloud. I can still make some of the second half, she thinks. Better than nothing.

Her gold medals clink together as Elphaba hi-tails it through the parking lot and into the Rose Bowl, second half of the game already underway. The sprinter feels slightly bad, having to brush off a few people asking for photos and she rushes through the stadium.

When she finally makes her way to her seat in the front row and glances up at the scoreboard, she breathes a sigh of relief - the US is up by one.

She leans over to the person next to her yelling over the noise of the crowd, “I just got here - who scored?”

“Are you Elphaba Thropp?” The man asks, wide-eyed.

“Yes. Who scored?”

The man stutters, “Upland. Like 4 minutes ago - it was a dope goal.”

Elphaba groans playfully, “Oh, I’m gonna get in so much trouble for missing it.”

They’re playing a Spanish squad that’s been looking good all tournament and did really well in the World Cup last year. Since they started dating, Elphaba has been subjected to more soccer matches than she cares to count but now she’s practically fluent in football-speak, familiar with the teams and the significant players.

So she knows how important it is to get the lead early on against a fast and crafty Spanish side and she’s glad it was Glinda who did - even if she missed the goal.

Elphaba watches the game with bated breath, yelling loudly whenever appropriate - or inappropriate, occasionally (like when she forgot she was sitting very close to the pitch and shouted obscenities at the referee for not calling an obvious foul against her girlfriend, only to have the sideline ref fix her with an icy glare.)

Spain scores in the waning moments of the game and the air leaves the stadium in one collective gasp. They were only a handful of minutes away from defending their 2024 gold medal. The game winds down and the officials announce a 15-minute break before the beginning of extra time.

No one leaves their seats, watching as both teams huddle together at the sidelines, reforming and refocusing for the next half hour of gameplay. Elphaba watches Glinda take charge of her team, drawing plays in the air with her hands, directing different members of her team, her pink headband visible from even this far away.

During the break, the camera finds Elphaba in the stands, broadcasting her image on the larger-than-life screens at either end of the field. The crowd goes wild for the duo of gold medals hanging around her neck. Elphaba blushes but stands and waves graciously, pulling the medals aside to point at the US crest on the jersey she’s sporting. The stands erupt into peals of laughter as Elphaba can very clearly be seen mouthing the unofficial slogan of the women's team: “Let’s fucking go.”

The camera pans away and Elphaba looks back down onto the pitch where Glinda is standing alone, and even from this far, Elphaba can see the grin on her face. Elphaba knows she shouldn’t be distracting her, but Glinda’s already looking her way so Elphaba lets out an ear-splitting wolf-whistle that leaves the forward shaking her head good-naturedly on her way back to the team huddle.

_________

At this point, Glinda shouldn’t be surprised by how many people adore her girlfriend. She’s easy to adore. But she didn’t quite realize how much Elphaba had ingratiated herself into the good graces of Glinda’s team until Milla showed up with custom-made shirts for them.

“What the fuck is this?” Glinda asks during their team dinner the night before the final.

Milla is holding up a t-shirt. On it: a black and white photo of Elphaba at last year’s World’s competition, wearing three medals around her neck with a photoshopped gold crown. The back reads, “Thropp 28” in the style of the US soccer jerseys.

“I made Harvard some merch,” Milla explains giddily.

“She doesn't even go to Harvard anymore, you can find a new nickname.”

“Absolutely not,” Milla says, “she hates it and that’s why I use it.”

Sarima pipes up, “Is that why you still call me ‘rookie?’”

“Correct, rook,” Milla smirks. “Anyway, Elphaba is basically our team mascot, and runners don’t have merch. So I made her some,” she says as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “We’re all gonna wear these to pre-game tomorrow.”

Glinda stares at her friend, mouth agape. “Milla, these are so ugly… Do you have any extras? I want to send one to Boq.”

Milla tosses two of her homemade shirts to Glinda and hands out the rest. Sarima puts hers on immediately, cackling, “She’s going to hate this so much.”

Almost the entire team shows up the next morning wearing their matching “Thropp 28” shirts, much to Milla’s delight. Glinda hadn’t told the sprinter about the custom merch so Elphaba learns about it online when the images of the women’s national team all wearing matching Elphaba Thropp shirts go viral.

@an_okay_time: who on EARTH made these?????

@woso99: PLEASE tell me these shirts are for sale somewhere

@positivelyemerald: the best thing to ever happen in the history of sports is the uswnt adopting @e_thropp

@jumper_boq: @GUpland4 - could you send me one? Please and thank you.

@GUpland4: @jumper_boq it’s already in the mail

@gaylindaupland: "the olympics aren’t for sports, they’re for being a silly goose” - Milla, probably

Milla posts a photo of the team showing off her creation with the caption, “gotta show up for our girl @e_thropp as she goes for gold.”

Elphaba comments, “Each one of you is clinically insane (save me a shirt).”

_________

Glinda doesn’t get to watch Elphaba’s races, they’re already warming up by the time she’s supposed to be running. It sucks because she wants to be there more than anything. Elphaba hasn’t announced her retirement from professional sports but she and Glinda have talked at length about it - these will be her final two races.

Glinda wants to watch her win.

Instead, she’s leading her team in their own gold medal match against a dangerous-looking Spanish team. In the locker room, Glinda stands on a bench for one final time at these games, looking around the room she is struck again by how lucky her life is, getting to play the sport she loves alongside some of her favorite people in the world.

“This is our game to lose, girls,” she starts. “Let’s win it. We’ve been working towards this since the second the whistle blew in Paris - four years and we’re right back where we were. Let’s play with everything we’ve got - leave everything out on that field. I want to come back into this locker room and be proud of the game we’ve played, the tournament we’ve played. I love you all, let’s kick some ass.”

She hops down, cleats clicking against the floor, and gathers her squad in the middle of the room. “USA on three! One, two, three–”

“USA!”

_________

Glinda scores early in the second half on a stunning assist from Sarima. It’s textbook, a perfect cross from the younger girl and all Glinda needed to do was hammer it into the far corner.

She jumps into Sarmia’s arms as the rest of the team mobs them, stadium going wild.

Glinda recovers quickly, shouting at her team, “40 minutes to go, let’s play perfect football!” Before Spain kicks off again from midfield.

They’re nearly perfect. And Glinda will give credit where it is due - there was nothing her back line could have done to stop the shot from the renowned Spanish striker. It was perfectly placed and right on time. That doesn’t make it sting any less. They were 10 minutes away from a gold medal.

Glinda is finishing up her speech before extra time when suddenly the crowd goes absolutely insane. She whips her head up, hoping that maybe Spain’s goal was posthumously called offside or somehow disallowed.

But no, it’s just her girlfriend on the Jumbotron, wearing Glinda’s jersey from the Paris Olympics and two gold medals. Two golds, Glinda thinks to herself, pride radiating off of her. That's my girl. She watches Elphaba pull her medals out of the way to show off the US soccer crest on the breast of her jersey, mouthing a profane, “Let’s fucking go” directly into the camera.

Glinda rolls her eyes and peels away from the huddle briefly, scanning the stands for the green woman. She finds her not far from midfield in the first row. Glinda gives her a face-splitting grin and then watches as Elphaba lifts two fingers to her mouth and lets out a shrill whistle.

Glinda just shakes her head at the sprinter's antics and rejoins the huddle, refocuses on the next 30 minutes of football.

“Please, for the love of god,” Glinda begs, “do not let this go to penalties again. Score early.”

Milla steps in, “In the words of our favorite green sprinter, ‘Let’s fucking go.’”

They break from the huddle and have 30 minutes to score or they’re set for another penalty shootout. But if there’s anything the two American strikers are good at, it’s performing under pressure. Sarima scorches a ball into the back of the net and the entire arena waits an agonizing few minutes as the goal is checked over and over to make sure it was onside.

Sarima jogs over to Glinda, anxiety spiking, “I swear, G, I was on. There’s no way VAR will overturn this. I was onside.”

“I believe you. Looked on to me too, Spain’s desperate and grasping at straws.”

The referee returns to the field and turns her mic pack on, everyone waits with bated breath as the speakers crackle to life.

“After reviewing the play, the call on the field stands. The goal was onside. USA 2, Spain 1.”

Glinda swears Sarima nearly collapses with relief as a wave of cheering crashes over them.

The goal takes the wind out of Spain’s sails, they effectively give up, resorting to bad tackles and dirty tactics to stay in the game.

One of their defenders slide tackles Glinda in the penalty box, spikes up, well after she had gotten rid of the ball. The ref calls pulls a yellow card out immediately, and Milla is elected to take the penalty.

The keeper guesses the wrong way and Milla slots the ball easily into the side netting. They’re up by 2 goals with 5 minutes left.

_________

Glinda is sweaty, pieces of gold confetti stick to her forehead and arms as she’s pulled aside and into an interview.

“Glinda Upland, you just won your second Olympic gold medal as the captain of this women's team. How does that feel?”

“Really fucking good – oops, sorry! They’ll bleep that, right?” Glinda’s going a mile a minute.

The interviewer laughs nervously, “I hope so!”

“Sorry,” she grimaces. “But no, it feels amazing. Everyone was so hung up about our performance at the 2023 World Cup that even winning the Paris Olympics and the 2027 World Cup wasn’t enough. Hopefully, three international gold medals will put an end to that 5-year-old conversation.”

“Are you anticipating playing at the next World Cup?”

“My god, I’m nearly 31 years old. I’m not counting myself out just yet but I’m definitely not as spry as I was in Paris, I’ll tell you that,” Glinda laughs but feels a tilt of anxiety - with Elphaba talking so much about her own step back from sports, Glinda couldn’t help but wonder how and when she would want to go out. “I’m going to keep playing club and hopefully keep getting called up to represent my country for as long as I possibly can, I know that much.”

Glinda looks up, headphones still on, and sees Elphaba pointing emphatically at her, trying to convince the on-field security to let her through.

“Hold on,” Glinda says to the interviewer, “My girlfriend is arguing with a security guard, I have to go save her. I’ll be back in one second.” She leaves the bewildered announcer at the desk by himself as she takes off down the field towards Elphaba who looks like she’s about to be escorted off the pitch.

“She’s fine,” Glinda yells. “She fine, she’s with me. You can let her through.”

Elphaba lights up when she hears Glinda calling and then turns and looks back down at the security guard, “See? I told you.”

Glinda grabs the sprinter and kisses her with everything she has. “Two fucking gold medals?” She says, hands still at Elphaba’s jaw.

Elphaba laughs, loud and clear, “Three, if you count yours.”

Glinda kisses her again. “I love you. I’m so happy. I love you, I love this. We’re going to need a bigger mantel!” Glinda thinks this might be the happiest she’s ever been and so, naturally, she says something insane: “Should we get marri–”

Elphaba cuts her off with a swift kiss. “Do not finish that sentence,” she warns, knowing Glinda’s tendency towards insanity in moments like this. “Go finish your interview.”

_________

Elphaba is arguing with a security guard and is very close to pulling the “do you even know who I am?” card which would be humiliating for all involved.

“C’mon. Please just let me through.”

“I can’t do that.”

“That’s my girlfriend, right there,” Elphaba points. “Glinda Upland. We live together.”

“Do you know how many people claim to be Glinda Upland’s partner?”

Elphaba feels her eyes go wide, “Um, none, I hope? I understand that you’re just doing your job but she literally is my girlfriend - I’m wearing her jersey.”

“You and half the people in this stadium!”

Fair point, Elphaba thinks.

“She’s fine!” Elphaba looks up and Glinda is rushing towards them, saving her from the rest of this interaction. “She’s fine, she’s with me. You can let her through.”

“See?” Elphaba says, stepping past the barricade, “I told you.” The security guard has the decency to look apologetic but by then Elphaba doesn’t care, she’s kissing Glinda deeply, trying to put everything she’s feeling into one kiss.

Glinda’s in one of her more chaotic moods, understandably. Last time she won the Olympics, she kissed Elphaba for the first time on international television. And this time -

“I love you. I’m so happy. I love you, I love this!” She’s going a hundred miles an hour and Elphaba can barely keep up, content to just hold her and laugh and feel every ounce of her joy. “We’re going to need a bigger mantel!” She yells, referring to the shelf in their living room where they have their various trophies and medals lined up. Between all of Elphaba’s World’s and National’s medals, Glinda’s WSL League Cups, and the Golden Boot from the World Cup, they were actually running out of space.

Glinda’s still going, “Should we get marri–”

Elphaba panics and swoops down to kiss the rest of the question out of her mouth. “Do not finish that sentence,” she says, trying to find the right balance of playfulness and warning in her tone. Elphaba points back to the media desk. “Go finish your interview,” she demands.

Glinda looks entirely unfazed and reaches up to kiss Elphaba again before jogging back into her interview. Elphaba watches her put the headphones on again and resume the interview as though she hadn’t just left in the middle and nearly asked Elphaba to get married in between.

“I cannot believe she almost just fucked up my entire thing,” Elphaba says aloud to herself, shaking her head adoringly.

“Harvard!”

Elphaba turns around and Milla is embracing her before she has time to react. “Holy shit, Harvard. We fucking did it!”

Elphaba cackles, Milla’s arms still wrapped around her shoulders. “I’m so happy for you guys,” she says genuinely. “And where the fuck did those shirts come from?”

“I made them!” Milla says, releasing the green woman, pretending to be offended. “Don’t tell me you didn’t like them!”

“I loved them, Milla. No one has ever worn my jersey before, I’m touched,” Elphaba says sarcastically even though she really does mean it.

Milla grabs Elphaba’s face and looks intensely into her eyes. “I just want to say how happy I am that you two found each other. I love Glinda more than anything and no one has ever been good enough for her but you sure as shit come close, Thropp.”

“Is this… a shovel talk? Milla, we’ve been together for four years. Hell, you and I have been friends for years! Where is this coming from?”

Milla smirks, “Nowhere. Just know I love ya.”

“Jesus, the Olympics have made you all insane,” Elphaba shakes her head. “I love you too. Now go spray someone with champagne.”

Sarima walks by and Elphaba pulls the younger player into a deep hug.

“Neither of us is enjoying this, Thropp,” Sarima says after a moment.

“No, but I still have to do it,” Elphaba chuckles. “I’m proud of you guys.”

Sarmia finally wiggles out of her grasp and knocks the pair of gold medals still hanging around Elphaba’s neck. “Not too bad yourself. You’re coming to the after-party, right?”

“If I’m invited.”

The forward rolls her eyes, “We were all wearing shirts with your face on them, of course you’re invited.”

“I’ll be there,” Elphaba promises with a grin. “Get out of here and drink a beer for me.”

Sarima lets out a peal of laughter and skips off towards the locker room. Elphaba doesn’t have to wait much longer for Glinda to finish up her interview. The stadium is emptying out, leaving only a handful of security and grounds crew. Glinda tugs Elphaba onto the field, pulling her to sit on the ground amidst the confetti. It’s a quiet moment among the chaos.

“How were your races?” Glinda asks.

Elphaba just looks pointedly down at her medals. “Pretty good,” she deadpans.

“That’s not what I meant. Obviously, you crushed it. How did you feel?”

Elphaba lets out a sputtering breath. “It was hard - knowing that they were my last,” she admits, voice vulnerable. “But I was right, I don’t think I’ll ever feel anything as special as a gold medal in LA. I wanted to go out on a high note and this was about as high as it gets.”

Glinda beams up at her, gaze so filled with adoration that Elphaba can barely stand it.

“How was your match?” Elphaba asks softly.

“Exceptional. But unlike you, I don’t think I’m ready to call it quits just yet.” Elphaba squeezes her hand. “I don’t know if I have another Olympic cycle in me but I don’t feel finished.”

“So don’t finish.”

Glinda looks around, quiet for a moment. “It’s crazy to think about how far we’ve come, how much has changed since Paris,” she muses. “I mean, we were young and stupid and flirting with each other and now we’re 30 and living together and fully in love. Isn’t that wild?”

Elphaba hums. I could do it now, she thinks to herself. It’s not part of the plan and I don’t have the ring but I could do it now. She doesn’t - doesn’t want to try to eclipse winning an Olympic medal. She stays the course.

“Thank goodness it was you,” is all Elphaba says.

“What?”

“Thank goodness it was you who I bumped into at the airport. Could have been anyone but it was you and my life is forever better because of it.”

“You’re a sap, Elphie.”

She throws her hands up, “Hey, you’re the one who started reminiscing. Now go party with your team.”

“Will you come to the after-party?”

“Only if you promise to do shots with me and then drag me off to some bathroom.”

“Deal.” Glinda’s smile could keep the lights on for days.

_________

“Arriba, abajo, al centro, pa’ dentro!”

They all clink shot glasses and throw the tequila back, grimacing.

“Alright, I’m officially too old to be taking shots,” Glinda says, shaking her head against the burn.

Sarima laughs at her, “Jesus, Upland. You’re 30, not senile.”

Glinda throws her arm across Sarima’s shoulder. “Come find me when you’re 30 and a hangover lasts three days, kid.”

“Okay, Thropp needs like four more beers and then she’ll be as drunk as the rest of us,” Milla announces, cracking open two cans at once.

“Hey! What do you mean? I just took that shot with you?” Elphaba complains.

“Yeah but you’re so tall,” Milla says. “I can imagine it takes a lot of booze to get you fucked up.”

“You’d be surprised,” Glinda butts in, running an appreciative hand down Elphaba’s arm. “Despite all the muscles, she’s a total lightweight.”

Elphaba takes that as a challenge and finishes her beer in one long pull, making eye contact with Glinda the entire time.

“Oh, so we’re getting sloppy tonight, I see how it is,” Milla jokes.

After what feels like an endlessly long time spent dancing and singing and twirling gold medals in the air, Glinda eventually pulls Elphaba out of the fray, finding a somewhat quiet hallway and pushing her against the wall. Hands falling to hips and threading through hair, lips finding each other easily. Elphaba slips her hand under the back of Glinda’s shirt (she’s still wearing the one Milla made with the sprinters visage on it), and scratches lightly at the small of her back. It’s enough to pull a faint moan from the blonde and Elphaba takes the opportunity to lick into Glinda’s mouth.

The small part of Glinda that isn’t fully occupied with the woman in front of her remembers faintly the first time they had done this. She couldn’t have imagined then just how integral Elphaba would become to her life, just how much the other woman would end up meaning to her.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of this,” Glinda murmurs against green lips.

“What, gold medals?” Elphaba chuckles.

Glinda kisses her deeply. “No, you.”

_________

They wake up tangled in each other, naked except Glinda’s still wearing her medal, Elphaba had taken hers off at some point.

Glinda wakes before Elphaba, a rare occurrence, and watches as her girlfriend stirs. She squints her eyes against the brightening room, throwing a forearm across her face.

“Oh god,” Elphaba groans. “My mouth is made of sandpaper.”

“Good morning, lover,” Glinda replies, voice overly sweet.

Elphaba raises her arm just barely to glare at the blonde. “How are you so perky right now?”

“Because I didn’t try to go shot-for-shot with a 23-year-old.”

Elphaba groans again. “Remind me never to do that again. Come take a shower with me and make sure I don’t die,” Elphaba demands, dragging herself out of bed.

A shower and a coffee to wonders for the green woman and she’s halfway to being herself by the time Glinda pulls her out of the team housing to grab a late breakfast with some of the soccer team.

“So,” Milla starts, also looking slightly haggard after the night of drinking. “What are the lesbian lovers doing post-Olympics?”

“So glad you asked,” Glinda smirks. “Much like in Paris, we have two weeks before Nessa’s events start so we’re going to drive up to Santa Barbara. Well. I’m going to drive, Elphaba still refuses to get her license.”

The green woman goes to argue, probably to say something about how cars are terrible and public transit is amazing - but Glinda holds a hand up, having heard the same refrain a hundred times.

“Elphaba has a great aunt or something that has a place up in the hills that she’s letting us stay in,” Glinda explains.

“Can Elphaba speak for herself or are you her designated interpreter?” Sarima jokes.

“I’m too hungover to communicate,” Elphaba groans, sunglasses firmly in place.

“Awe, did Harvard try to keep up with the young guns?”

“Tried and failed,” Elphaba confirms.

Glinda just smiles as her friends continue to ridicule Elphaba for her inability to hold her liquor. She always feels lucky in moments like this - that her friends so easily folded Elphaba into the fray and that Elphaba took to them as quickly as she did.

Eventually, Elphaba takes her glasses off and grows serious. “Hey,” she says, looking around the table at Glinda’s friends who had become her friends. “I haven’t said anything yet but I’m about to and wanted you guys to know first,” she starts as Milla and Sarmia lean in closer. “This was it for me - I’m done running professionally. I’m going to announce my retirement next week.”

There’s a lull at the table as the footballers absorb the news. Milla raises her coffee cup, “To our favorite green girl,” she says, eyes twinkling. “You’ve had a career for the ages. I’m proud to be your friend.”

The rest of them raise a cup in a satirical salute.

“It’s only fair,” Sarima says. “Someone else probably wants to win a medal soon - at this point, you’re just hogging them.”

Glinda leans against Elphaba’s solid form, feeling the thrum of appreciation radiate off of her.

“I love you all,” Elphaba says genuinely. “I’d suggest a retirement party when we’re back in London but I need to recover from this party first.”

_________

August 2028

Elphaba Thropp Announces Retirement

In a heartfelt video posted to her Instagram this morning, Elphaba Thropp announced her retirement from professional athletics.

“I wanted to go out on a high note and there is no higher note than winning two gold medals in my hometown Olympics,” Thropp said in her video. “I never intended to make running my career but I’m so endlessly lucky that I got to be a professional athlete for this long. Running means the world to me and it’s going to be incredibly hard to leave it behind but I can’t imagine a better way to go out.”

Thropp began racing professionally in 2022 but became a household name after the Paris Olympics. Since winning gold and bronze medals in Paris, Thropp has gone on to place in nearly every national and international competition she’s participated in. Most recently, she won gold medals in the 200 and 400-meter races at the Los Angeles Olympics.

“I’ve given so much of my life to Track and Field and it’s given so much right back to me. I made my closest friends in the circuit, I met my girlfriend at the Olympics, and being an athlete strengthened my bond with my sister - there’s no part of my life that running hasn’t touched.

“To Coach Dillamond, and my trainers and teammates - thank you for all the time you’ve dedicated to making me a better athlete and person. To my friends and family - I’ve seen what you’ve sacrificed for me and I can’t thank you enough. And Glinda - thanks for being along for the ride, love.”

While Thropp does not indicate what her plans for the future are, we know that she has been working part-time as a professor of Political Theory at Queen Mary University of London while she trained for the Olympics.

_________

“Did you post it?” Glinda asks, coming outside holding two mugs of coffee.

Elphaba shuts her computer with a soft click. “Thank you,” Elphaba says, taking the proffered cup. She sighs deeply, “I posted it. You’re looking at your newly unemployed girlfriend.”

Glinda leans down to place a gentle kiss to her lips. “I’m proud of you,” she says.

“Com’ere,” Elphaba slides over and pats the empty seat next to her.

Glinda sits down and immediately tucks herself into Elphaba’s space, leaning against her shoulder as they watch the fog burn off the face of the distant sea.

“Big day for you,” Glinda muses.

You have no idea, Elphaba thinks.

“I’m trying not to regret it,” Elphaba admits. “I know it’s the right decision but I’m going to have to learn who I am without this sport.”

Glinda nods which Elphaba can’t see but she feels it against her shoulder. “I’ve always admired how much of yourself exists outside of your sport though - so many athletes, myself included, don’t have other interests, other skills. You’re literally a professor on top of being one of the best sprinters of your generation. That’s cool. And rare.”

Elphaba feels herself flushing at Glinda’s compliments.

“I appreciate you saying that,” Elphaba says, her voice taking on a thin wire of vulnerability. “I know you’re not ready yet, but I’m excited for the trouble you’re going to stir up when you do hang up your cleats. You’ve got a lot to give to the world outside of playing.”

“We’ll see,” Glinda hums, and Elphaba can hear doubt creeping into her voice. She doesn’t press though - she knows Glinda has a lot of playing time left in her. Elphaba just drops a kiss to the side of her head, burying her face into soft blonde hair.

“What are our plans for the day?” Elphaba asks, changing the subject.

“Hopefully nothing. I’m deeply exhausted.”

“I actually have an incredibly packed day of laying around and reading my book,” Elphaba smirks. “I’ll even make you dinner if you’re good.”

“I’m very good,” Glinda drawls.

“Don’t I know it, Upland.”

As promised, Elphaba spends most of the day doing yoga and lounging on the porch reading. Glinda never far away, lying in the sun or trying to convince Elphaba to go skinny dipping in the pool with her (she’s not hard to convince).

Despite the endlessly relaxed atmosphere, Elphaba can’t ignore the thrum of anxiety that buzzes just below her skin all day. She’s hyper-aware of the ring box at the bottom of her duffle bag. She told Boq and Nessa about her plan and they’ve been doing their best to play it cool but Nessa keeps texting just a series of question marks, eagerly awaiting an update. Between that and the many requests for interviews after her retirement announcement, Elphaba opts to turn her phone off entirely.

Glinda notices something’s up that evening.

Elphaba is cooking and Glinda is perched near her on the counter. Elphaba feels the weight of the blonde’s gaze and worries she can read everything on Elphaba’s face.

Turns out, she can.

“Okay, spill,” Glinda demands, “what’s going on with you?”

Elphaba’s eyes go wide but she doesn’t look at Glinda, focusing too hard on the stove. “Nothing’s going on. What do you mean?” She asks, playing clueless.

“You’re being weird.” When Elphaba finally meets her gaze, Glinda is looking at her with such concern that Elphaba's heart kicks against her ribs. “Is this about your retirement?”

Elphaba breathes a sigh of relief. The perfect excuse, she thinks. “Maybe,” she halfway lies. “I’m trying not to think about it though.”

Glinda hums. “Do you want to talk about it now or later?”

Elphaba huffs out a laugh. “Anyone ever tell you you’re very demanding?”

“You. Often,” Glinda says matter-of-factly. She just raises an eyebrow at Elphaba, awaiting an answer.

Elphaba sighs in defeat. “Later. I promise.” She turns back to her cooking but Glinda pulls her away and into her orbit.

“You sure you’re fine?” Glinda asks.

Elphaba nods and places a kiss at the edge of her jaw. “I’m good, my sweet.”

It’s sufficient enough for Glinda who releases the green woman back to her cooking. “I hope you know how much I care about you,” she says suddenly into the warm air of the kitchen.

Elphaba looks up into icy blue eyes radiating an impossible warmth. She places a hand on Glinda’s bare knee as it hangs over the edge of the counter, squeezing lightly, thumb running gently over the top of the scar from Glinda’s ACL surgery. Elphaba doesn’t say anything, doesn’t have to. She knows that Glinda knows what she’s feeling with a single look. It’s unspoken. It’s everything. Glinda lifts her chin with two fingers and she kisses her with a tenderness that makes Elphaba’s knees go weak.

She doesn’t ask.

Elphaba: I couldn’t do it…

Nessa: Fabala! What happened?

Boq: Dammit, Elphaba!

Elphaba: Nothing happened! We just had this really intense moment right before I was going to ask and then I got worried she would think the proposal was reactionary.

Boq: For someone so smart, you’re really fucking stupid

Boq: She’s been waving her left hand in your face for ages, just ask.

Nessa: Boq’s being too harsh. But also he’s right. Stop waiting for the perfect moment.

Elphaba: No, you guys are both right. I just want it to be everything she deserves.

Nessa: She adores you. Whatever you decide will be exactly right.

Elphaba: I’ll do it tomorrow, I promise.

Boq: You better, I have $20 riding on you proposing first and I already owe Milla a lot of money.

_________

Elphaba hardly sleeps, waking before dawn and making a single cup of coffee, knowing her girlfriend won’t be up for a while. She finds herself sitting on the back porch, turning the velvet ring box over in her hand as the sun crests over the hills, turning the coastline below into a cerulean curtain, the light from the kitchen casting a golden rectangle onto the porch.

Elphaba thinks about everything she wants to say to Glinda, thinks about all the ways in which Glinda has left her handprint on Elphaba’s life.

“I don’t even have the language to tell her how much I love her, how am I supposed to do this?” Elphaba wonders aloud quietly into the brightening dawn, trying to keep her voice steady. “Dammit,” she shakes her head, “I should have just proposed after the game, there won’t ever be a moment that perfect again.”

Elphaba’s tendency to talk to herself gets the better of her. “I mean, how do you tell someone how quickly and easily they changed your life?” She gestures out into the morning air, ring box still clutched tight in one hand. “I don’t even know how she did that. It’s like one moment I was fine and the next, she looked at me and the very base elements of who I am slotted into place. Who does that? How do you even begin to propose to someone who gave you everything, who reintroduced you to yourself?”

Elphaba takes a sip of her coffee and considers texting her sister again saying, I can’t do it.

“No,” she says aloud, shaking her head against the thought - the pep talk she’s giving herself is beginning to work. “You can do it, you have to do it. She means everything and then some to you. It’s so easy. Just buck up and ask her to marry you.”

“You know,” a voice pipes up from behind Elphaba. “She’d say ‘yes’ if you asked.”

Elphaba whips her head around to find Glinda leaning nonchalantly against the doorframe, silhouetted by the warm light of the kitchen.

Elphaba’s mouth hangs open, looking for the right words and not finding them. “I – how much of that did you hear?”

Glinda laughs lightly, lovingly. “All of it,” she admits.

Elphaba clamors up from where she had been sitting on the back step, standing sheepishly several feet in front of her girlfriend, hands needlessly hiding the ring box behind her back.

“Glin, I don’t – you –” Elphaba stammers.

Glinda takes a step out onto the porch, cutting Elphaba off, “So, are you going to ask?”

Elphaba looks at her, dumbfounded. “Do you still want me to?”

Glinda smiles widely and gestures to Elphaba, giving her the floor. “You don’t need to do the whole speech again though if you don’t want to, I heard it the first time,” she laughs.

Elphaba is still so startled to have been caught, surprise ruined, that she takes a moment to gather herself, inhaling deeply, a pleading smile playing across her lips as she stands opposite Glinda.

“Glinda,” she starts, voice already shaky and Glinda curls up a corner of her mouth, gesturing subtly to Elphaba, pointing with both hands down at the ground.

Elphaba takes the hint and rolls her eyes lovingly, but gets quickly on a knee, taking the ring out of its box and holding it up to Glinda. She nods approvingly as the sky grows brighter around them.

“Glinda,” Elphaba repeats, grinning warmly. “I’m so sorry I ran into you at the Paris airport. Please let me spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”

Glinda crosses the space that separates them, sinking to her knees in front of Elphaba. She grabs Elphaba’s jaw and kisses her with more tenderness than should be possible. When she pulls back, Elphaba can see the mist threatening to spill over in her eyes. The green woman places her forehead against Glinda’s, slotting their noses together.

“Of course I’ll marry you, Elphaba,” Glinda says softly, still cradling her face gently.

“That’s good,” Elphaba says, voice choked with emotion. “Because I, uh, I really love you.”

Glinda finally pulls away and looks down at the ring Elphaba still holds out.

“Too on the nose?” The green girl laughs, slipping the gold band with an emerald stone onto Glinda’s finger.

“It’s perfect,” she says in a hushed whisper. “You’re perfect.”

“You’re really going to marry me?” Elphaba asks, lifting Glinda’s chin until the blonde woman pulls her gaze from her ring finger and meets Elphaba’s eyes.

“Stay right here,” Glinda demands, rushing back into the house.

_________

Glinda knows it's here somewhere. No one has ever accused her of being overly organized but she swears she had stashed the ring in a side pocket of her duffle before they left for the Olympics.

“Oh thank god,” she mutters, pulling the gold band out from where she had hidden it.

Glinda takes one selfish moment to look at the ring already on her finger next to the one she was about to give to Elphaba. They match, in their own way.

When Glinda gets back outside Elphaba is still posted up on one knee, brow furrowed, eyebrow raised, looking at Glinda with confusion. Glinda just laughs loud and clear into the morning light at the sight of her lover. She comes back and sits on her heels in front of the other woman, producing her ring in return.

“I got this like nine months ago, Elphie,” she says, holding the ring up. “I wanted to marry you ages ago.”

Elphaba lets her slip it onto her finger and Glinda feels silently smug at how perfectly it fits. It’s slightly more understated than the one Elphaba gave her, a thicker gold band, one small pink stone set in the middle, engraved on the inside.

“Green goes good with gold,” Glinda smiles, remembering saying the same thing to Elphaba after she won her first gold medal all those years ago.

Elphaba brings her into a deep kiss. “I love you, Glinda Upland.”

“Let’s get married,” Glinda smiles, pulling Elphaba back to her feet. The taller woman wraps her in a tight embrace.

“You mean it?” Elphaba asks.

“Elphaba, baby, I’m wearing your damn ring,” Glinda laughs, arms wrapped loosely around her waist, head tucked under Elphaba’s chin. “It was always you.”

_________

They stand out on the porch a while longer, not wanting to break the spell. Glinda can’t stop grinning, pressing her face into the fabric of Elphaba’s shirt to hide her giddy smile, feeling the weight of the ring on her hand.

It’s everything she’s wanted.

After a time, after they had kissed and held each other and laughed and cried, Glinda lets Elphaba pull her back inside. The green woman sets about making another pot of coffee.

“Sorry,” she says, indicating to the single cup she had made herself earlier, “I didn’t think you’d be up for a while.”

“I figured as much when I caught you proposing to the empty air,” Glinda smirks.

“I wasn’t proposing,” Elphaba defends herself sheepishly. “I was just talking out loud.”

“I didn’t realize asking me to marry you would require so much psyching yourself up,” Glinda jokes.

Elphaba turns to her, eyes alight with mischief. “Of course you didn’t realize, you’ve never proposed,” Elphaba taunts.

Glinda tuts, taking the mug from the green woman. “I was waiting for you, Elphie.”

“Why were you waiting?” Elphaba asks, gaze turning serious. “You said you kept this for months,” she gestures at the ring she’s wearing. “Why?”

Glinda avoids her gaze, looking instead at their intertwined hands - long, green fingers threaded through her own, medal glinting in the warm light. “I wanted you to be sure,” she says quietly. “I know what I want, always have. I didn’t want this to be something I pressured you into.” Glinda takes a deep breath, wondering how honest she should be. “But I have been thinking about getting married for a while now.”

They had had conversations about marriage before. The difference is that, for Elphaba, the concept was abstract, something she would be open to in the future. But when Glinda said she wanted to get married, she didn’t mean eventually. She wanted it actively, wanted it soon.

Glinda continues, “I knew I wanted you the second I saw you. I fell in love with you almost immediately. I knew I wanted to marry you ages ago.”

“When?” Elphaba interrupts.

“Honestly?” Glinda thinks. “Probably when you moved in with me. That day. When you moved across the world with one bag and a bicycle to be with me. I saw you sitting on that floor and I knew I wanted to be with you forever.”

“Why didn’t you say anything, G?” Elphaba asks, voice heavy.

Glinda brings their interwoven hands to her lips and kisses Elphaba’s newly adorned ring finger. “You’re slower on the uptake. I had to let you figure out what you wanted on your own time.”

“I always wanted you,” Elphaba says sternly.

Glinda shakes her head. “That’s not what I meant. I just mean that I didn’t want you to feel any pressure from me. I knew what I wanted - you - and you’re worth waiting a bit for.”

Elphaba looks away and Glinda can see the emotion in her expression.

“Remember after the World Cup?” Elphaba says suddenly. “When we went back to Avignon?”

Glinda nods. When the World Cup ended, they had decided to spend another week at Fiyero’s place in the French countryside, considering it a post-tournament tradition.

Elphaba smiles and grabs her phone from the other room, scrolling for a while before setting it down in front of a confused Glinda.

Glinda reads the old text exchange Elphaba had pulled up between her and Boq. It was dated nearly a year ago - right after Glinda’s World Cup win.

Elphaba: Dude, I think I’m going to marry her.

Boq: Okay???

Elphaba: What do you mean “okay?”

Boq: That’s old news, everyone knows you’re going to marry her.

Elphaba: ??????

Boq: Jesus Christ, Fae, you guys are made for each other

Boq: When are you going to propose?

Elphaba: I don’t know. What if she’s not ready?

Boq: I’d be willing to bet she’s waiting for you.

Boq: Have you talked about getting married?

Elphaba: Yes, but abstractly. She’s never said, “I want to get married to you.”

Elphaba: And she’s the most forward person on earth, if she wanted to get married, she would have said so already.

Boq: Fair enough.

Boq: Just play it by ear.

Glinda looks back up at Elphaba.

“Honey, did you take Boq’s advice about proposing and ‘play it by ear?’” The emerald blush blooming across Elphaba’s cheeks answers her question. Glinda rolls her eyes. “Only you could think about proposing for a year and still mess it up,” Glinda smirks playfully.

“I didn’t mean to mess it up!” Elphaba swears. “I had a whole speech I was working on but honestly, it wasn’t enough.” She softens. “It would never be enough. You’re everything to me and I’m just supposed to put that feeling into words?”

“You already did,” Glinda smiles.

“What does that mean?” Glinda pulls the ring back off Elphaba’s finger despite her protests. “Hey! Don’t un-propose just because I was bad at it!” The green girl cries.

Glinda holds the ring up to her girlfriend – her fiancee, she thinks giddily – for her to read the inscription that has so far gone unnoticed. “You already put that feeling into words,” Glinda repeats.

Elphaba takes the ring and squints at the small writing.

“I had Milla take the ring and engrave it right before we got here,” Glinda explains.

“Thank goodness it was you,” Elphaba reads. “I – I said that to you after your final.”

“You did,” Glinda nods as Elphaba pieces together the meaning of the engraving. “Something about that struck me, I knew it was going to be something I remembered forever. You already had the words for what this was, you didn’t need some elaborate speech,” Glinda reassures her. "Thank goodness it was you, Elphaba."

“Read yours,” Elphaba points with her chin at Glinda’s ring. Glinda slips the ring off and catches the light on the inside of the thin band.

Kismet is all it says.

“Elphie, what does this…?” Glinda trails off, trying to remember if that means something significant to their relationship but she can’t for the life of her think of anything.

Elphaba just laughs, rich and low and rumbling. “You said it once. Don’t worry, I don’t expect you to remember.”

“I mean, I know what it means but I don’t…”

“Do you remember in Paris, before we met, when I called you from the Stade and you let me ramble on and on about how upset I was that people were talking about me?”

Glinda nods, remembering it well. It was the first time she really had felt something for the green girl beyond just simple attraction.

“Before we even got into that conversation you answered the phone and said something like, ‘I was just thinking about you - it’s kismet.’” Elphaba says. Glinda doesn’t recall the exact language she used but she does remember she had been thinking about the sprinter moments before she called and something about it did feel fated in that moment.

Elphaba continues, “It felt right,” she shrugs. “This whole thing was kismet. You’re the only thing in my life that ever felt as though it was meant to be, as though you were some predestined, unavoidable, perfect thing.”

“Kismet,” Glinda whispers, feeling the word over in her mouth. “I can’t believe you’ve held onto that word for four years.”

“Me neither,” Elphaba laughs. “But it stuck with me. It felt apropos. It felt like us.”

Glinda stands and rounds the counter, kissing Elphaba hard, tired of talking when words would never be enough.

_________

Glinda posts a picture a few days later - after she and Elphaba had called their family and friends to let them know about their engagement.

(Glinda’s parents were the only ones truly surprised, her mom squealing loudly over the phone, already talking about dates for the wedding and Elphaba finally understands where Glinda gets the chaotic element of her personality.

All of their other friends were mostly in the loop - Boq and Nessa had been kept updated, and Milla had engraved the ring just days before but did groan about owing Boq money. Sarima blinked at them, confused, and said, “Not going to lie, I did think you guys were already engaged so this isn’t a huge surprise.”)

It was a simple photo, just of their intertwined hands with the accidentally-color-coordinating rings; Elphaba’s green skin matching Glinda’s emerald gem, the small pink stone reminiscent of Glinda's famous pink headband.

“I’d take these over the Olympics rings any day.”