"I love you," Fiyero said one night, as they huddled together for warmth. He was still getting used to being cold; as a man of straw, he hadn't felt any discomfort, or, well, much of anything. Not that he was complaining, finding warmth in the exhilarating sensation of pressing his body to Elphaba's. "With all my heart."
"With all your heart?"
"Of course."
"You know that frightens me," she sighed, frowning.
"Why?"
"Hearts will never be practical until they can be made unbreakable."
"Then don't break mine," Fiyero suggested, softly, smiling.
"If it's the only thing I do," she promised.