Oh, I don't know. I'm stuck in a rut with this story, and now I have a job to add onto my heavy college workload. So yeah, sorry.

The day was similar to the day before; dense and hot with looming storm clouds hovering ominously over the mountains in the distance. Elphaba had relegated her heavy hoodie to the back seat and had her legs kicked up on the dashboard of the car; her bony knees drawn to her chest.

"What's that?" she murmured quietly, gesturing vaguely at what appeared to be a tiny village of black cloth erected in the middle of one grassy plane. She looked at Fiyero questioningly, and was startled to see a massive grin on his face.

"I can't believe it!" he cried, swerving the car and accelerating towards the area.

"What? What is it?"

"It's a Vinkun Flea Market! I haven't seen one of these since I was a kid! I thought they'd died out." His enthusiasm was infectious, and Elphaba felt a thrill of excitement as they approached what turned out to be a small cluster of black tents.

People with light olive skin so similar to Fiyero's own milled around in old fashioned peasant garb, many of them possessing inky black hair and wide brown eyes. Various stands had been set up, including a table laden with fascinating jewellery and draped with silk scarves. Another stand held some kind of fruity delicacy, the enticing smell of which wafted close to Elphaba and made her head spin. Clothes, toys, books and trinkets were displayed in every tent, and Fiyero soon dashed off to have a nose around.

Everything about the little market seemed heightened, from the vivid colours splashed around to the driving rhythm of the drums played by a little boy in the central square. To Elphaba, this was a whole new entity, and she was entirely captivated.

Fiyero sorted through a display of scarves, noting with satisfaction that they were certainly made of only the finest Vinkun silk, probably sourced from the silkworms kept by the Scrow tribe. As the most sought-after textile in Oz, this particular brand of silk was extremely expensive. At the bottom of the pile lay a black silk shawl. When he picked it up, it ran through his fingers as smoothly as water, and it had a pretty pattern of bright red poppies emblazoned on the background. The fringing along the edges was green.

"How much is this?" he asked the older man who sat behind the table, eyeing the Prince warily. Fiyero couldn't tell if the man knew who he was, but he was evidently a nomad, so it was unlikely.

"Forty," the man replied simply, holding his hand out to receive the coins.

"You're so lucky she's worth it…" he muttered in disgust, depositing the correct amount of money into the callused palm.

"Wow, nice! Is it a present for Galinda when we find her?" Elphaba smiled as he approached, allowing her eyes to skim over the silk garment. Fiyero stuttered to a halt. He hadn't thought about Galinda.

"Um…no, actually," he admitted reluctantly, holding the shawl out to the girl. "It's for you. I thought…I thought it'd look really pretty on you." He smiled cautiously as she took the gift and ran it between her hands, obviously getting a feel for it.

"Thank you," she murmured, offering a small, appreciative grin in return. No-one had ever given her a gift before, not even Galinda…mainly because Elphaba had threatened to drop all of her hair utensils into the Suicide Canal if she tried. A present from Fiyero, of all people, was most unexpected.

And something so pretty, too! Elphaba hadn't reckoned on the Prince being able to choose something that she wouldn't clash hopelessly with. Apparently, however, he had selected an item that would suit her beautifully. Glad of her simple black tank top, the girl draped the shawl around her thin shoulders and gave Fiyero another shy smile.

The young man could tell that she didn't know what to say to him. With a jolt at his own stupidity, he realised she would probably be more comfortable when their almost-relationship was back in a more recognisable zone.

"Come on, Thropp. We don't have all day," Fiyero sighed heavily, glad to see the tension in her shoulders release at the sound of her surname.

"You might not have all day, Tiggular, but I sure as hell don't care. I want to keep looking around here for a while," Elphaba retorted, at ease once again. He sent scathing glare in her direction, and they both knew they were back on familiar territory.

"What more could you possibly want?" he cried, flailing his arms. "I just bought you the prettiest thing in this market!"

"Oh, I don't know. This necklace is very pretty. So is this dress-"

"I thought you didn't like showing too much skin?"

"I don't, but that doesn't mean that I'm not allowed to like the dress."

"Actually, I think you would look…That is, your skin is-"

"Don't even say what I know you're thinking. My skin is horrible," Elphaba was immediately on the defensive; skin had always been a touchy subject.

"What? I wasn't going to-"

"Yes you were! Don't even try to lie about it!" she bawled childishly, stomping off in the direction of the car. Fiyero watched her go, utterly perplexed.

It started to rain. An awkward silence reigned inside the car, with Elphaba staring resolutely out of one window and Fiyero keeping his gaze transfixed on the road ahead, his blood boiling. Suddenly, the girl spoke in a cutting voice.

"I can't believe I had actually started to think that you were a half decent person. I suppose it just goes to show that I should always trust my instincts about people. They've always been right before. I mean, my father- that is, my mother- my brother and sister, they…Never mind. Just don't talk anymore," she commanded, shrinking further into the corner. Fiyero ears pricked up at the vague mention of her family, but understood not to push it when she was in this mood.

They drove for another couple of hours in silence 'til they reached the next motel and checked in. Keeping silent was difficult for both of them, but sheer stubbornness won out. Until, at least, Fiyero lost his patience with Elphaba's constant injured sighs. Taking a bite of a chicken sandwich, he couldn't refrain from speaking any longer.

"You were wrong, you know," Fiyero began hotly, the pang of her unwarranted yelling still fresh. "I wasn't going to say that your skin was terrible or that you'd look ridiculous in that dress.". Elphaba raised her eyes from the book she had been reading and fixed her dispassionate gaze on the speaker.

"Oh really?" she mused, turning the page with less enthusiasm as normal. Fiyero reached across and took the thing from her hands, paying no notice to her cry of protest.

"Yes, really. What I was going to say was that I think you should wear dresses more often, because you obviously have some kind of figure under those baggy clothes that would look great in something more feminine. Oh, and for the record? Your skin isn't horrible. It's actually sort of pretty, once you get used to it. I quite like it, and I know Galinda does too." He threw that bit in for good measure, knowing that mentioning the blonde would appease Elphaba, even if only slightly. Sadly, the young prince didn't know the green girl as well as he thought.

"As lovely as the sentiment is, you've had plenty of time to rehearse that in your head. So yeah, goodnight!" she said stiffly, scrambling under the covers and turning her back on him.

"Oh come on. A guy goes all deep and soppy to apologise to you and you turn your back on him? No wonder you've never had a boyfriend! No guy can stay around you for too long without getting his head bitten off. You're a total witch!" he spat nastily, hurt at her distrust of his sincerity. Elphaba did not reply. She discreetly bit back the tears and pulled the duvet over her head to hide her from the hateful boy's view.

A little while later, as Fiyero busied himself with arranging his pillows in the correct order, a small voice reached his ears.

"Am I really that despicable?" Elphaba murmured, apparently to herself. Suddenly, Fiyero felt guilt-ridden and shamefaced. He sat up in bed and turned the lamp on, casting remorseful eyes upon the girl in the bed opposite.

"No. You're not," he replied emphatically. The Thropp girl started and turned over, her expression surprised.

"I thought you were asleep!" she said carefully, shielding her eyes from the bright light.

"I was too angry to sleep."

"Oh. Right. Goodnight again, then."

"Wait, Elphaba. I really owe you an apology," Fiyero admitted, hanging his head. He hated apologising; it made him feel weak. His conscience insisted that this one was necessary, even if it did wound his pride. "I had no right to say those things to you. It was cruel and completely uncalled for. I don't know if it's possible for you to hate me any more than you did before, but I totally understand if you do."

"I don't hate you, Fiyero," Elphaba sighed, distractedly picking up the silk shawl from where it hung over the end of her bed. She draped it around her shoulders once more and wound her fingers through the fringing: it blended with her skin tone.

"You have every right to hate me, though. I was a real-"

"Pig? Asshole? Rat? Well, I can't deny it. But no…I don't hate you. I guess you're not that bad. I deserved that for going off at you for nothing again. I think I actually sort of like you. You're kind of cool."

Not that Elphaba could admit it to herself, but there were other words at the forefront of her mind about what she felt for Fiyero. Her astute intellect was struggling to process the foreign emotions, and, frightened, she didn't know what to say to him when he smiled broadly at her. The intense relief exhibited in his crystalline eyes was disarming, and for only about the second or third time she could see why so many girls fell at his feet.

Fiyero beckoned her over and tossed the covers back, inviting her to cuddle up with him again. Elphaba bit her lip, the sensible part of her brain telling her to stop being so utterly preposterous. Her normal self had an eye roll ready and a scathing remark hovered precariously on the tip of her tongue: the part that still thought she hated him.

The other much smaller, yet more dominant part of her made her want to accept his invitation. A flood of excitement and dread saturated her chest and her tummy began to squirm in an extremely pleasant manner.

"Incorrigible," she muttered with a feigned grimace, hopping over the short gap and leaping contentedly into his outstretched arms.

"Ha. You love me for it," Fiyero replied smugly.

"I'm surprised you know what the word means," mocked Elphaba good naturedly, granting an uncharacteristically flirtatious glance through her eyelashes. The Prince laughed and wrapped his arms companionably around her waist, glad that they seemed to be able to come back from such a big argument with relative ease.

Lapsing into silence, their eyes found each other. Elphaba's breath began to come in deep, nervous shudders as Fiyero's penetrating gaze searched her face. Timidly, she moved a fraction closer to him, allowing her hands to settle lightly on his broad shoulders. His own were in the curve of her waist, his thumbs gently caressing her sides. Their lips were slightly parted as they regarded one another nervously.

"I really, really want to kiss you right now," Fiyero admitted softly, Elphaba's grip tightening as he pulled her closer. She swallowed audibly.

"What's stopping you?" was the breathless reply, a faint quaver in her voice.

"Fear. I don't want you to punch me," chuckled the young man, making himself look over her head at the window. Elphaba decided to bite the bullet. She slid her arms around his neck and sat up on her knees, flush against him.

"Forget the fear," she whispered, catching his gaze again.

"I-"

"Just shut up and kiss me, Yero." Elphaba commanded.

So he did.

Don't go thinking this is over. It's nowhere near over yet.