Fiyero stretched, his back nicely limber after yesterday's session. Elphaba leaned over his shoulder to check his work, and the memory of her hands running over his skin pressed to the front of his mind. He was still in a bit of disbelief about the entire thing.
Her bare back underneath his hands had occupied the vast majority of his dreams, though it was challenged by her command to take off his shirt and lie on the bed. He wasted no time complying. After all, it just would have been rude not to return the favor. Her hands came to rest on his shoulders now, and his eyes closed as he indulged in the memory. He took a deep breath and sighed.
Without warning he scooped her into his lap. "Would you stop hovering? You make it impossible to concentrate."
"What are you doing? Let me go!" She wriggled furiously to break his hold, but he shook his head.
"Uh, uh. I can't handle you breathing over my shoulder another second. This way you have a front row seat to anything I screw up."
"Fiyero," she stilled, and her voice was softer than he would have liked. He had expected the angry glaring pep talk. It made him slightly less likely to maul her. "Stop being so hard on yourself. You're not going to screw up."
With a wry laugh he said, "Yeah, not if you watch me like a hawk I won't. Come on."
She rolled her eyes, but miraculously stayed put as he passed her book to her. He had to have some fantastic luck to have gotten away with so much over the last few days. Maybe he had better karma than he'd imagined. She looked up and elbowed him in the ribs, "Stop daydreaming and work." Ok, maybe not.
This paper had quite possibly been sent to test his resolve for studying to the core as it was unarguably the dullest subject known to man. He reread a paragraph for the tenth time trying to concentrate on early climatization patterns through development of agricultural technologies in the harvest of extinct produce used to sustain their early ancestors that were long dead and past caring about such things.
"That sentence needs an active verb. And there is no such thing as a jujubean." Elphaba pointed out before returning to her book, and he crossed out the offending sentence.
He sighed. "How much longer do I have to do this? I mean, what relevance does this have to anything useful to anyone ever in the past, present or future?"
She smiled, but didn't even look up as she pointed back to the book. "Work. Sooner you're done, sooner we can go."
"But…"
"Work." He rested his forehead on her shoulder in defeat.
"Fine. But I'm going to hit you up for one of those backrubs some amazing guy taught you how to do."
She laughed. "Only if you promise not to pull another stunt like last night. I don't want another bruise on my hip, thank you very much."
"Hey, you're the one who jumped off of me. I even tried to help you catch your balance."
Her jaw dropped with an outraged scoff, and he smirked at the light in her eyes his teasing had brought. She crossed her arms. "Ugh! I jumped off you, if you remember, because you decided to attack me. And it is not helping to pull my shirt off. Jerk."
"I did not! I was trying to catch you!" She pulled away as if to stand up, and he grabbed her and held tight. "Ok, ok, I'm sorry." He flashed his puppy dog eyes and most charming smile, "At least I didn't see anything…much."
She glared and was about to retort when the librarian walked in. Fiyero released her, and Elphaba hopped up before they could get another lecture about misuse of library furniture. "You two again. Haven't I warned you to be quiet in the library? Get out."
"But we were just…" he started with charm smile at full force. He really needed to finish this paper.
"Out now!" she hissed, her eyes tiny slits of repressed rage. She never did like him very much. He suspected she still carried a grudge from that whole fire alarm prank that managed to soak all the books on the third floor. Though she had neither proof nor confession, somehow she'd always known he was involved, and he was a little bitter that Avaric, the true mastermind, was left unsuspected.
He sighed, gathered his books, and nodded goodbye to Elphaba. With a half-smile of regret, she passed him the pen that had rolled across the table. He gave her hand a small squeeze and retreated toward the stairs under the librarian's beady-eyed stare.
"Both of you." He spun around to catch Elphaba's jaw drop. "Don't bother coming back until you've learned how to respect the library, and no, Mr. Tiggular, that doesn't mean right now. I don't plan to see either of you for at least a week, am I understood?"
Fiyero had to work fast to reach Elphaba and cover her mouth before the undoubtedly biting, indignant reply ruined the chance at any return. "Yes ma'am. We've learned our lesson," he said loudly, reveling in the wince that crossed the matron's face. "We'll just go mull it over a bit more, alright?"
He drug Elphaba out and endured a long tirade about the unrighteousness of the entire situation. "Can you believe the nerve of her?" Elphaba fumed before mocking the woman in a frighteningly accurate imitation. "Don't bother coming back until you've learned how to respect the library. Honestly! Who respects the library more than I do?"
"No one!" he chorused. She gave him a look, and he realized that his enthusiasm could easily be mistaken for mockery. Adopting a more sincere tone, he said as he opened the door to his room, "I'm really sorry I got you kicked out of the library."
She shrugged. "It's alright."
"No, it's not." He took her hands. "I know how much the library means to you. If there's anything I can do to make it up to you..."
"Anything?" she asked with that wicked light in her eyes, and he shuddered.
"Anything that doesn't involve tights or nail polish, yeah."
She laughed and squeezed his hands before releasing them. "Don't worry about it. Besides, you have a report to be working on."
He groaned. "Come on. Don't I get a pass for getting kicked out of the library? That's an omen; I'm sure of it." A patented stern look later, and he was back to working on the stupid paper at his cramped desk. So much for it not possibly getting worse. "You know, I was a lot more productive when you were on my lap."
She raised her eyebrows. "Oh really? Which part? The banishment or the endless run-ons?" He pouted until she rolled her eyes and climbed into his lap. "Oz, the things I do for you."
He kissed her cheek with an overdone smack. "And that's what makes you so goodly."
"You bite your tongue." She shook her head as he did an imitation of her best friend's hair toss. "She's always after me to do that. I just look ridiculous when I try."
"Oh, it's not you. I can promise you that."
She smiled, doing her own hilarious imitation which sent hair flying everywhere. He blinked as it assaulted his eyes and blew a few wayward strands out of his mouth. She shook her hair ruefully and held a long strand if front of her face critically. "I don't know. I can't really get used to my hair down like this. It just gets into everything. I don't see how girls manage."
It hit him so strongly he almost dropped her. She was so beautiful. He watched her fuss with her unruly hair and noticed how glossy and delicate it was, and when she caught his eyes with a naïve smile on her face, he couldn't help but dwell on how enchanting she could be when she stopped trying to intimidate. It made him a little sad that the whole world didn't get to see her like this, but at the same time, he felt so privileged that he couldn't help the tender look that possessed his features.
She stared at him oddly. "Are you alright? You look a little loopy."
He chuckled. "Just thinking about your hair. It's really pretty."
"You think?" With any other girl, he would have assumed she was fishing for a compliment and obliged, but Elphaba seemed sincerely interested in his opinion. She viewed the hair again with an objective, neutral expression. "I guess. It's shiny. It's not blonde."
"Which is another very good trait."
"I thought blonde was all the rage," she said simply before poking him in the ribs. "Besides, you're all over the blondes."
"Are you saying you want me all over you?" he tossed back, only half-teasing.
She blushed. "Of course not." She hopped up to stride away. "I was just pointing out that even you prefer blonde hair."
He shrugged. "Not really."
"Riiight," she taunted. "You despise it so much that you date every girl that has it." He stuck his tongue out at her, and she laughed. "See, so you must prefer it."
"Not really." The firmness in his voice took her off guard, and for a moment she just blinked at him.
"Okay. Whatever." She turned back to stare at the mirror for a second. "I can't believe we're discussing hair. Maybe Galinda's evil campaign to popularize me is working better than I thought."
"Perish the thought," he said.
She spun her hair up with a pencil stabbed through it to hold it in place. "There!" her benign rebellion complete. "Nicely unpopular again."
He shook his head as she approached and retook her seat beside him. He caught a rogue strand of hair. "You know, that doesn't really help you look less hot." She tilted her head, and he laughed. "Now you just have that sexy secretary look."
She sighed and threw her hands up in the air, "Can I do nothing wrong?"
He rolled his eyes and quipped, "Nope," as he snatched the pencil from her hair.
It rained over her shoulders with a glorious whoosh, and she punched his shoulder. "Hey! What was that for?"
"Needed my pencil," he shrugged and placed an innocent look on his face before returning to his dull paper.
It was quiet for a bit until Fiyero tossed down his pencil and rubbed his eyes. Elphaba caught his frustration and distracted him with, "So up or down? Galinda is dressing me for that stupid party you're making me go to." He smirked at the dig, "I was instructed to ask every guy I know, and, well, that's pretty much Boq and you."
"What did Boq say?"
"He said curly, but he was mooning at Galinda, so I'm not entirely sure he understood the question."
He stared at her a moment and mused which he would prefer to see on her. "Hmmm. That's a tough call. See, with up," he combed her hair back and held it away from her face, "there's the advantage of long, graceful lines and very enticing access to the neck." He brushed his finger down the side of her neck to her shoulder conjuring images of his lips tracing their way to her collarbone, all exposed by an elegant gown. He cleared his throat. "Or with down," he released the waterfall again, dragging his fingers through it, "there's the plus of being able to run your fingers through her hair. Either way, I think you're going to find, is perfectly acceptable to most guys."
Her face was flushed, but she forced a nonchalant expression. "But you didn't answer my question." He raised his eyebrows, and she smirked, "I asked which you preferred."
"Oh, did you?" He leaned forward. She nodded and matched his lean. His eyes darted to her lips as she bit them lightly, and then back to catch her eyes flicking their return from his own mouth+. "You really want to know?" She nodded again.
"Galinda's orders," her head still nodded as she leaned forward again.
He tucked her hair behind her ear and ran his hand through the silky strands to her shoulder. A half-smile spread as he said, "Down is better for dancing, and I plan on torturing you with quite a bit of it." She smiled as the tension eased a bit. "Besides, I can always move it out of my way." He gathered it at the nape of her neck and leaned over to brush his lips a hair away from her neck to her ear to whisper, "Does that answer your question?"
She swallowed. "So, down?"
