Disclaimer: Wicked belongs to all those smart people—you know, that Schwartz guy and the Winnie lady, and all those other geniuses.

This was originally a perspective exercise, but I decided I may as well post it. I think I'm becoming addicted to first-person.

Anyway, I know I should be working on my other stories….but c'mon. It's fall! Fall puts me in a cozy, curl-up-in-the-corner-with-some-hot-chocolate mood. And what else can I do when I'm curled up in the corner with hot chocolate but write fluff? Cozy me plus hot chocolate equals lots of fluff for you. Cheesy, predictable fluff, but fluff all the same.

Let me know if you guys like it, because I'm thinking about continuing it as a series of vaguely related one-shots.

Enjoy! Be sure to brush your teeth afterwards.

"Elphaba Thropp, I have had it with you. Come out of that bathroom this instant!"

Locked inside my tile-and-porcelain safe-haven, I let my forehead make a second trip to the bathroom mirror, then a third and a fourth. Thwack…thwack. The last thing I want to do is go out into that room, but even I know that there's no arguing with Galinda when she's "had it with you". Maybe one last try…."Galinda—"

"NOW!"

…..Maybe not. I unlock the door and trudge back onto the battle scene to find the victorious one-woman army standing with one hand on her hip, the other gripping a lethal metal torture device. No way am I letting that thing near me.

"Umm, Galinda? Usually, when one party surrenders, the other lays down its weapons." Not exactly true, but so what? I'm not above taking advantage of my roommate's ignorance. It's not my fault she has pillow fluff for brains.

"Nice try," says Galinda, wagging said torture device—I think it's a curling iron—at me in place of a finger. "Either you go to that party as the Autumn Fairy, or you go naked."

Now you understand why I was hiding in the bathroom.

"That's not a bad idea." The heads of both victor and victim (that's me) swivel simultaneously to the man in the doorway. It's Fiyero. I flush as his casual remark sinks in.

Galinda pipes up right away. "Oh, Fiyero, thank goodness. Will you please talk some sense into Elphie?" How dare she enlist my own boyfriend against me?

"You want me to talk sense into Elphie?" Fiyero laughs a little. "That calls for heavy-duty mental equipment—more than I've got, anyway." Darn right, it does. He kisses my forehead; he knows how much I love that. "Are you being difficult, dear?" No doubt he hopes the kiss will exempt him from the consequences of teasing me.

I answer with a customary eye roll. "Of course—blame it all on me. Put quite simply, Yero, the inmate has taken over the asylum, and yes, I suppose she would find me a bit of an inconvenience." Rather a clever analogy, isn't it?

Fiyero looks to Galinda, I assume for clarification. He's giving her his "I have no idea what she just said" look. As much as I love him, his attic isn't furnished very well. "Translation, please," he says--I was right.

Galinda huffs. "Elphie refuses to go to the party as the Autumn Fairy."

The Autumn Fairy. I ask you…

"Come again?" Apparently, Fiyero asks you, too.

"The Autumn Fairy! See, look, it's perfect. The leaves start out green—" she gestures towards me,"—and turn gold." She indicates the gold dress laid out on her bed. "She'd look so pretty, if she would just cooperate for once in her miserable, stubborn, pink- and sparkle-less existence." Yup. Pink- and sparkle-less--that's me.

The princess is getting herself pretty worked up by now, but Fiyero remains calm as ever. "I see." He lifts the dress from the bed and looks it over, and then holds it against me and tilts his head to one side. I try not to be distracted by his fingers on my collarbone. "Fae?"

I know what he's asking, and I don't have to think about the answer. "No, no, and no, Fiyero, and before you make that face, let me think—no."

"That face" is this ridiculous and ridiculously adorable pout that only he can pull off. It's not even much of a pout, really—just this look that he gets in his eyes that for some reason makes it impossible to say no to him.

He's doing it now. "C'mon…it could be so much--"

"Worse?" I have one last chance to speak my mind before he wins, and I go for it. "I get it. As long as it could be worse, it's ok, right? It's ok to be the freaking Autumn Fairy, because after all, I could be a naked vegetable!"

He presses the fabric into my hands, holding onto my fingers a little longer than he needs to, so that I know he's not trying to upset me. "Just try it on, ok? I want to see."

I take it from him with a snort. "I may as well lock you up along with Galinda. You're both crazy." I shoot him a secret half-smile over my shoulder, so that he knows I'm not really upset.

I step out of my everyday frock and into yards of overlapped, gathered, and richly embroidered material. It's too rich for me. I feel like a little girl playing at being a lady, in heels that are too big and jewels that could never belong to her. No amount of finery can make me pretty.

But as I gather my courage and look in the mirror, I'm shocked. It's a relatively simple cut, despite the fancy fabric, and the soft, gold-tinted fawn color actually looks—well, it looks good. I rub the sleeves between my fingers, grateful that they're long, then put a hand to my face and trace it down my neck and chest to where the fabric starts. The fairly low neckline exposes cleavage that I didn't realize I had. Now it's all I can see. Not a little girl…I'm a woman.

Suddenly shy, I duck my head as I exit the bathroom. What will Fiyero think? Does he know that the green girl has breasts that outsize Galinda's? Or will this be a revelation to him as well? I pull up on the neckline and fiddle with the sleeves behind my back, anxious for the verdict.

Galinda's reaction comes in the form of an ear-splitting squeal. This particular squeal, I have learned, translates roughly to "Oh my Oz, I love it so much that I don't know what to say, therefore I'm just going to SCREEEEAAAAM!". I know—lovely.

"Ah…" I wince and press a hand to my temple. She knows that that gives me a migraine. "Galinda, HOW many times do I have to tell you that I—"

Two warm hands and a pair of lips cut me off before I can finish. Fiyero pulls away much too soon, though Galinda's foot-tapping suggests that our audience feels quite differently. "You're wearing that," he says matter-of-factly, and for once I feel no need to argue. Either he already knew I had breasts or he likes them, or both, and that's good enough for me.

Galinda clears her throat, reminding me she's here, and I aim a disgruntled glare at the incorrigible blonde. "You're lucky he's here to distract me." She really, really is.

She brushes off my threat of sorts with a flick of her wrist. "Oh, eat some fiber." A pause, then, "Laxatives work well too….hmm." I do not need fiber or laxatives. Thank you, Galinda. She whips out her curling iron again. "But now we have to do your haaiirrr!!!"

I will admit that I actually cowered behind Fiyero. I don't even know how many times I've seen her burn herself with that blasted piece of metal. And that's not even considering the fact that it makes her look like a poodle.

I am not fond of poodles. "Nuh-uh. That…thing—"I jab a finger at the iron,"—is where I draw the line."

Fiercely determined blue eyes squint back at me. I'm always surprised at how quickly Galinda can shift from about-to-pee excited mode into now-I-mean-business. "That's what you think," she tells me. "There will be no line-drawing today, Miss I-want-to-look-like-a-vegetable-when-I-could-be-the-goddess-of-fall." Nice. She advances, weapon held at the ready. "There will be only spirals. Drawn by me."

Suffice it to say that utter chaos broke out after that. Fiyero and I emerge from the dorm building ten or so minutes later, disheveled and red in the face but elated with our success.

I'm still huffing and puffing, but Fiyero regains his composure. "Well." He keeps a straight face, but I can tell he's working at it. The little muscle in his jaw is twitching like it does when he's trying not to smile. "That was an ordeal."

I run my shoulder into his chest, knocking a puff of laughter out of him. "I hope you realize I saved your butt back there."

He's right, but I can't resist sarcasm. "All hail the conquering hero."

He elbows me lightly in the ribs as we start down the quiet path to Shiz's ballroom. "Don't be so grateful. I may have a stroke."

I elbow him back, though I really want to laugh; it's part of our game. He responds in kind, and I decide to up the ante. I give him a solid shove and hold in a cackle as he staggers a little.

"Oh, I don't think so…" He surprises me by scooping me into his arms and carrying me to one side of the road. My protestations are weak; I love being held this way.

"Apologize, Elphie," he says.

"What? No!"

He shrugs, and I wonder how he can while carrying me. It's like he doesn't even notice the weight. "Ok." His arms slip out from under me, and I drop like a rock. The funny thing is, I'm not worried—he's there, so I know I'll be caught. That's what he does to me.

And I'm right—a pile of leaves breaks my fall. I land right on my gold-clad derriere, sending a fountain of leaves into the air. The ones I disturb rain back down on me. Good-natured laughter trickles down from over my head.

"Why, Miss Elphaba, I believe you just evolved into the Bottom Fairy."

I spit a leaf from my mouth. "Charming. I'm blown away by your maturity."

Fiyero drops down beside me, still chuckling. His laughter gives way to a sigh, which melts into silence. I break it. "You know, that was really, really lame."

"Yeah, I know."

Grinning for no reason that I can name, I drop my head onto his shoulder. I listen to the silence for a few moments, enjoying the contrast between the crisp autumn air and Fiyero's warm body. I tingle from head to toe when he wraps his arms around me. I think about things a different way when he's with me. The now is all that matters, and the future seems so easy. I'll be with Fiyero. Forever.

Fiyero's the first to speak. "We probably should think about getting up now. Not that I'd mind being an hour or two late, but…"

"Yes, I suppose so." I don't want to go. I snuggle in closer, turning my face into his shirt. That's when I notice. "Hang on…"

"What?"

"Where's your costume?" He's wearing the same kind of button-up and trousers as he always does.

"Oh, umm…" His cheeks turn red, and I get it.

"You're not planning on wearing one, are you?"

"Well, no." He runs a hand through his hair—he's nervous. "I had bad experiences with costumes when I was a kid. Everything I put on made me look like a drag queen." I snicker at that; it's hard to imagine. "So I figured—why even try? I prefer to remain a male as long as I'm in public, thanks."

I raise my eyebrows delicately. "Only when you're in public?"

His mouth twitches. "I'm going to pretend you didn't just say that. Anyway, so I thought I'd go as Prince Charming. No transformation required." Yes, he has a big head. If I didn't know he was kidding, I'd give it a good smack. He crushes up a handful of leaves and sprinkles them in my hair. "And you shall be my leafian princess."

Slightly better than Autumn Fairy, I'll give him that. But it's time he got his dose of nature. I grind my own pile into his forehead, laughing gleefully at his sour-lemon expression as he spits pieces from his mouth. But he's a good sport; he laughs right along with me.

"You know what?" I say suddenly." How about we just stay here?"

"Now that can't be a good idea..."

I wasn't expecting that. "Why not?"

"'Cause then I might do this." He tackles me back into the red-and-gold mound, and I can tell he's being gentler than he wants to be. I wonder, sometimes, what it is he really wants with me. He reaches for handful after handful of leaves to bury me in, and I shriek and fight back, groping blindly for whatever I can reach. My fingers find his thick, honey-colored hair, and I grip the back of his head and pull it towards me.

His face appears within inches of mine. "Ah, ok, ok…. You win." His warm, heavy breaths wash over my mouth, and I wish he'd hurry up and kiss me. He grins. "Now who'd have ever thought we'd end up in this position?"

I play innocent. "Mmm, not me. I'm the helpless victim here."

He slips a hand beneath my head. "Right."