Author's Note: I'm writing this, to return a favour. My good friend and fellow writer wrote a story and dedicated it to me, and since I had an idea, I thought I'd do the same. So for formalities: I hereby dedicate this piece of fanfiction to Katie.

It's just a drabble really. The pairing is Fiyeraba.

Fiyero glanced once again at the piece of paper that he held in his straw filled hands. It was blank, as it had been for quite some time. It seemed to be calling to him, pleading with him, to write something on it. He picked up the small chunk of charcoal that lay next to him, not caring that some of it smudged onto his white glove hand.

How do I love thee? Shall I count the ways…

There, that was a good start. Fiyero smiled- or at least smiled as much as a man with a painted face could smile.

I love you for each piece of straw that is in my body.

I love you for each drop of water that "melted" you.

"She'll certainly like that!" Fiyero said to himself.

I love you for the attempt you made to save my life, even though you made me into a scarecrow. I love you even more than I would ever love that farm girl, no matter what she may say.

Oh, Elphaba was sure to love that! Fiyero scratched his head, shifting his brains, trying to think of the next line. Finally, he began to write.

I love you for each of the emeralds in the Emerald city, where the wizard lives.

I love you more the Wizard loves young girls.

I love you for each of Glinda's curls!

Wow, that rhymed, so I'll quit while I'm ahead!

With that done, Fiyero put down the charcoal. "Elphaba! I have something to give you!" He hollered. Fiyero looked down from the hayloft where he was currently sitting. The barn that he and Elphaba were hiding out in, gave him the perfect supply of fresh straw. He saw Elphaba, green as ever, hurrying towards the loft. She climbed the ladder and looked at him. "What is it?"

He thrust the paper at her, turning away and blushing (about as much as a scarecrow could blush).

Elphaba read the paper, snorting with laughter every so often. "What is it?" Fiyero asked, truly puzzled.

Elphaba snorted again, before putting the paper down on the straw. "That was… interesting. Thank…you."

"I tried my hardest!" Fiyero protested, noticing Elphaba's obvious lack of enjoyment towards his poem.

"Young girls?" Elphaba looked at Fiyero sternly. "Glinda's curls?"

"It rhymed!" Fiyero exclaimed.

"Get stuffed!" Elphaba said playfully.

"I already am."

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