A Lazy Afternoon
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters
Chapter 2
Fiyero stood outside Elphaba and Glinda's room, soaking wet, bearing the forgotten items. He was amazed that he had snuck up to the second floor without being noticed. The girls rooms' were labeled, and he found the correct room with no trouble at all. Number 22. Gently, he rapped on the door. After nearly a minute, the door opened a cracka dn Elphaba's dark, expressive eyes appeared in the void.
"What do you want?"
Her voice sounded rough and shaky.
"I have your book and satchel. You left without them."
"Give them here." She stuck her good hand out.
"They're soaked."
"So are you."
"The sky opened up as I headed back here."
"How did you get up here?"
Fiyero grinned, wiping his face with his hand. "It wasn't as hard as you might think."
Slowly, Elphaba opened the door for him, stepping far out of the way to avoid stray droplets as he entered. He placed the satchel down on the floor.
"Do you have a towel that I might wipe this off with?"
Elphie grabbed one out of the closet, and tossed it at him. Carefully, he dried the satchel.
"This didn't get too wet, cause I put it in the bag, but you'll probably want to lay it out to dry."
"There is fine."
He lay the book on the floor at the base of her bed. Finished, he held up the towel, wondering where she wanted him to put it.
"Dry yourself off."
He did as he was told, and she plopped down on her bed and watched him.
"Not doing much good."
"No, I'm pretty drenched."
He tucked the towel around his shoulders and sighed.
"You can sit in that chair if you'd like. You can't hurt it," Elphie grinned, pointing to a plain, wooden chair in the corner of the room.
"Must I sit in it over there?" Fiyero smiled, as he went to fetch the chair.
"Of course not," she laughed. "But you may not put it so close that you touch my bed."
Fiyero obeyed, keeping his wet clothing from her sheets. They sat in silence for a little while.
"How is your hand?"
"Fine."
"Really?"
"It'll be fine."
"That's different."
"Perhaps."
"May I see it?"
"No."
"Please?"
"No."
"Please, Elphie?" he locked eyes with her.
Slowly she raised the wounded hand. A small, red welt had formed where the raindrop landed. Fiyero reached out to pull it closer and she yanked it out of his reach.
"You're wet."
"My hands are dry."
"I said you could see it, not touch it."
Fiyero nodded, and slowly she showed him again. He leaned in to look at it carefully.
"How do you treat it?"
"Mister Nature boy doesn't know a number of ways to treat a burn?"
"No, I do, I was just wondering how you treat it."
"Sorry. I cleaned it with a little oil."
"No herbs to cool it or disinfect it?"
Elphaba shrugged. "I don't have much now. It's small."
Fiyero looked at it again. "It's a nasty burn. Keep it clean."
"Yes, sir."
"Elphie…I'm not trying to be patronizing. I…I just…" he sat back in his chair, frustrated.
Elphaba lay back on her bed, rubbing her temples.
"Are you okay?"
"The air's gotten really humid. It gives me a headache. This building is drafty."
"Do you need anything?"
"Could you grab a few of my scarves from the hook over there? Sometimes it helps to cover up, and breathe through that."
Fiyero bounded over to the scarves and grabbed a handful.
"Thank you."
Slowly Elphaba wrapped them around her neck, up to her nose. Fiyero wished there was more he could do for her.
"If you don't mind, I think I'm just going to rest for a while."
She reached for her blanket. He helped her cover herself with it, and she curled in on herself.
"Is that your only blanket?"
"Yeah."
"Do you want me to fetch on of mine?"
"I'll be fine, Yero."
"Okay."
He crossed to the door, and paused. For a few minutes. She looked so fragile huddled up like that. He'd never seen her show weakness.
"I'm not going to break."
"I know," he answered softly.
"Then why are you still here?"
It wasn't nasty, just inquisitive.
"I don't know."
He stood and watched her a while longer.
"If you're going to stay, sit down."
"Are you sure?"
She nodded, and he returned to the chair.
"I don't want to talk though."
"Okay."
Elphaba snuggled into the blanket once again. Gradually her breathing evened out, and Fiyero reasoned that she was asleep. He stood up ever so carefully so as not to wake her. Gently he placed his hand on her blanketed shoulder, squeezing lightly before tiptoeing out of the room. He silently shut the door, and paused, leaning against the wall. Why was he suddenly so concerned about her? He couldn't place it, exactly, nor could he shake the feeling.
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