I wrote this yesterday during my first rehearsal - it was the opening number, for which I sit curled up in the centre of the stage. So... Yeah. I just sat at the side and wrote. I can't keep away from writing. This is a bit weird, but I like it! I hope it's not too OOC... And the use of "he" and "she" is intentional.

Disclaimer: I, sadly, do not own Wicked.

He glared at her with undisguised frustration in his eyes. They were blue, she noticed for the first time. Bright, clever, strong, glittering like pale sapphires. A little devastating in their loveliness, she realised. Surprisingly honest, too - they betrayed his emotions more blatantly than she would ever have guessed.

"Fine, if you don't want my help…" he grumbled, turning on his heel and taking three steps back the way they had come. A little voice in the back of her mind began to panic, and she sprang after him with more enthusiasm than could be considered proper.

"No! I do!" she cried, catching his hand to stop him leaving. She had never held anyone's hand before. His skin was smooth, but she could feel the creases of his palm as he held her hand in just as tight a grip. His skin was warm, too, as well as velvety soft. He obviously took great care of his hands - well, he was a Prince, so it's not like he had to use them very often.

She turned her face up to him and found his eyes utterly bewildered, staring and their clasped hands. Slowly, he slotted his fingers through hers and raised those eyes to meet her gaze. It felt nice, as though their hands had been specially fashioned to slot together so comfortably.

The girl hazarded a glance down at their hands too, and noticed with faint surprise the pleasant contrast of their skin tones - emerald and light tan, almost the colour of a milky coffee. Together, they were earthy looking, and more natural than the trees surrounding them. A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, but she wouldn't let it grow.

He looked away for a moment, then glanced back.

Away, back.

Away, back.

She shuffled forwards one tiny step, tilting her head in fascination as a tiny smile played on his lips. They were nice lips; pinkish and full, and quite alluring at this close range. He tightened his grip around her hand, and leaned forward infinitesimally.

The scent of him met her nose, and she couldn't help but breath it in deeply. The light stubble on his cheeks told her that it wasn't aftershave, but in fact the natural scent that he carried. Sweet, masculine, tempting, utterly intoxicating -

No.

She jerked away quickly and crossed to the little Cub that sat yowling a few feet away. Pulling back the blanket that covered the bars, she saw the tiny Lion huddled in the corner, shivering. Tentatively; to calm her own erratic heartbeat as well as his; she reached a hand into the cage and tenderly stroked his fur. He whined pitifully and used his paws to cover his huge brown eyes.

"His heart is pounding… I didn't mean to frighten him," she muttered sadly. She really did feel terrible. All she had wanted to do was save the poor little thing, but it looked like she had frightened him out of his wits - maybe he would never learn to speak anyway, because of this traumatic experience at a young age.

"Then what did you mean to do?" the Prince asked, suddenly crouching by her side. His voice was low and velvety, and he used a tone that she had never heard from him before. "And why was I the only one you didn't do it to?"

The green girl turned to him once again, and found him at an even closer range than before. His crystal gaze was searching, and she desperately yearned to turn away; return her attention to the pressing matter of the Cub's safety, but his genuine curiosity was wholly disarming. With this one look he cheekily pilfered her authority and confidence in herself and her opinions. It left her weak, and she secretly pondered how enchanting he was.

Terrifying, even.

What a strange feeling it was, looking at him in such a way. She had never been so aware of her body in all her eighteen years of life - especially her heart. A beating heart: so she actually did possess one, then? Apparently so, as it thumped uncomfortably fast in her chest. She had thought that a heart was something that simply sat there, dormant in all activities but for pumping blood around her body: necessary for nothing but remaining alive.

As she saw a little dribble of blood trickle down the boy's cheek, this newly discovered heart stuttered at the idea of him being hurt. Her mind; stoic as ever; told her to stand up, take the Cub away and set the poor creature free to live a life where he could speak. This was her cause, this was what made her who she was!

"You're… You're bleeding," was all she could manage, as this new emotion of hers screamed that such beauty as this should not bleed; that it should never be hurt. His eyes sought hers, and he murmured something that she didn't quite hear.

"He must have scratched you."

The Cub next to her moaned pitifully, but for the first time, she ignored it completely. The Prince said something else, and a rather foolish half smile danced into his eyes. The green girl reached out one slim hand, and wiped away the small amount of blood with one finger. He turned his face towards her hand and gently nudged her palm with his nose, eliciting one huge somersault from that infernal heart of hers. She scolded it internally.

He found her gaze and held it, and she found her body tipping forwards of its own accord, drawing closer to those marvellous lips. Inch by inch they crept closer, until…

"I have to get to safety!"

He was on his feet now, running one hand through his dark hair and looking around with the air of a child caught with his hand in the biscuit jar. Her heart, her stomach - every organ in her body plummeted at the sound of those words, then lifted again when he amended the sentence a little.

"I mean, I have to get the Cub to safety."

"Oh! Yes, I mean, of course," she laughed stiffly, springing to her feet and getting in his way as he tried to walk around her. With a final, dreadfully bemused stare, he left her, clutching the little cage which held the Cub.

The girl called after him, but the prince ran so fast that he was well out of earshot and incapable of hearing her. She kneaded her eyes with her knuckles, cursing the part of herself that has chosen to awaken at the most inconvenient time with the most inconvenient person. Why, of all people, did it have to be him? She was not the girl for him, and she never would be. Why should she care? Stubbornly, the girl told herself that she didn't.

However, those feelings: terribly inconvenient, horribly painful… And yet utterly thrilling. This whole emotional institution wasn't the most agreeable business, but it certainly would be interesting.

I'm terrible at endings. Review, if you like. They make me happy :D