AN:No excuses, I should have updated this a long time ago. Thanks to those of you who PMed, especially Holly Bush for the motivation. Thanks for reading and not giving up on this story.

This was ridiculous. Fiyero slipped into the class and scanned the front rows for Elphaba. Like it or not, she was going to talk to him. He dropped into the seat beside her, oblivious to her surprised glare.

"What're you doing here?" she hissed, eyes on the professor. "You're not even in this class."

"You're avoiding me."

She shot him a look. "Get out."

"We need to talk."

"This is a class!" Students nearby turned to look at her, and she lowered her voice back to a whisper, "Go away. We'll talk later."

He crossed his arms. "No, we won't. You think I can't tell you're going to be stubborn?"

"What do you want?"

He uncrossed his arms to take her hand, heedless of her wince. "Come back to lessons."

She rolled her eyes and pointedly stared at the professor, copying a line of notes.

"Why are you so mad at me?"

She leaned her head back as if praying for deliverance. "I'm not. Now, I need to pay attention, so…"

"Elphaba, come on. Talk to me."

His sincerity pushed through to her, or it might have been the edge of desperation. She drew a heavy breath. "I really don't want to talk about this here."

"Then let's go."

"I can't. Oz, why are you so dense? I know you skip class, but I actually care about my education."

He fought the urge to grab her hand again. "I'm not leaving you alone until you talk to me."

"I'll talk to you later."

"You've been avoiding me for days."

"I've just been busy." But her wandering eyes shouted liar.

"Avoiding."

"No, I've-"

"Avoiding." She opened her mouth, and he pre-empted her. "Avoiding. Don't lie to me."

"Ugh, why are you so insufferable?" There was steel in her whisper as her cheeks darkened. "Fine. I've been avoiding you. Happy?"

He swallowed back a retort in favor of a soft, "Why?" which earned him a pointed look.

"Fiyero, you know why."

His eyes dropped, and he forced a blank face so his realization wouldn't show. She didn't want him. He'd pushed her too fast and pushed her away. Disappointment welled in him, but he set it aside. Priorities. "Still. All…that aside. We need to get back to training."

Her pencil had become fascinating, for both of them. "I don't know. I don't think that would be a good idea." The soft sadness in her voice tore at his heart.

"Elphaba-"

"I don't think we should-"

"Listen." He grabbed her wrist, shocking her enough to draw her eyes. "Trust me, I get it. I'm sorry, and I promise I will do my best to keep my hands to myself." He let go to prove his point, but compensated by leaning forward. "But you shouldn't let that get in the way of your progress. You wouldn't quit any other classes just because you dislike the teacher."

Her eyes flicked to the professor dully lecturing the class. "You're not a teacher."

"Tutor then. Come on, you know I've helped."

For a moment he thought she'd deny it to be spiteful, but then her eyes dropped to the desk. "And if I don't need your help?"

"You do."

She scowled. "Fine, if I don't want your help? Oz, why do you care anyway?"

"Elphaba." He wanted to tell her she knew why, but that was the source of the whole disagreement. "I just…do."

Her silence was deafening, but he waited her out. "I'll think about it."

"Okay. I'll be at the courts tomorrow morning. Same time."

She nodded. "Okay, fine. Get out." He did, before she changed her mind.

Fiyero fired another shot at the hoop, eyes glazed even as the net swung. He chased the ball down and returned to the line.

She wasn't coming.

He knew that, and yet, he couldn't fight the hope and swallowing disappointment when each basket fell unwitnessed. The next one bounced off the rim and spun off toward the weeds.

"You've got to break your wrist." He whirled at the voice. "And relax, but think, but clear your head."

A broad smile broke out as Elphaba sauntered closer. "You came."

Her smirk faltered, and her left hand crossed to her right elbow. "So it would seem."

He restrained the strong urge to crush her to him and redirected his energy into swiping back his hair. "So…"

She pressed her lips in a tense smile, and he subconsciously moved the ball between them.

"What did you want to start with?"

"You're the coach. You tell me."

The banter fell short, though, when neither of them could meet the other's eyes. "Already run today?"

"Five miles this morning." Her chin bucked up, and he fought a swell of pride. She'd kept up the workouts. She hadn't totally given up on him.

"Good." He hadn't meant for the warmth in his voice to be so obvious, but it melted some ice from her rigid posture. "Time?"

"Thirty-one."

"Really?" He lifted his eyebrow. A new best for her, if he wasn't mistaken.

She shifted her weight with uneasy tension. "I had some motivation."

Pissed at him, no doubt. He'd have to remember that if she needed it. He arranged a teasing grin. "Oh? Liam chasing you?" She shot him a look, but at least her eyes finally met his.

"We should do weights. I haven't been able to since…without a spotter."

"Yeah, okay." The image of her lying on the bench below him sprung to mind, and he swallowed. "Want to go biking first? It's a nice day, get some fresh air."

"Fresh air's overrated."

"Clearly you haven't been in the weight room. It doesn't smell like books, that's for sure."

She rolled her eyes. "You know, I do leave the library every now and then."

He sent her a sideways smile. "For a little fresh air?"

She shoved his shoulder, and just like that the spell between them fractured. He propped the ball against his hip. "Think you can show me the rowing machine?"

"Sure. What do you need it for?"

"It's one of the optionals. That, gymnastics, football or wrestling."

He swallowed the retort on the tip of his tongue at the idea of teaching her to wrestle. "Don't most girls pick gymnastics?"

"Shall I wear pink ribbons, too, or just my dolls?"

He kept his thoughts to himself. "Rowing, it is. But to warn you, it's murder on the lower back."

"I'll stretch."

They head to the athletic building and returned his ball to the front desk. "Weight room free?"

"Down the hall." The clerk shot Elphaba a look. "She your only spotter?"

"I'm hers."

"Oh," he dropped his eyes back to his log, "workout gym's open till six. It's got all the aerobic machines."

Elphaba bristled, but Fiyero intervened before she could lash back, "Thanks. Can we get a key?"

"No key for the gym if you've got a student ID."

Fiyero held out his hand. "But the weight room does."

The clerk huffed an aggrieved sigh. "Bring it back when you're done," clearly implying that it would be soon.

"Thanks." He hooked an arm around Elphaba's elbow and pulled her after him before she could lash into the beefy chauvinist. "Come on. Save it for the weights."

The room was dim, even with the lights all on, and the familiar scent of sweat and testosterone wafted from the dingy carpet. He peeked at Elphaba's face for her reaction. "What?"

"Everything you pictured?"

"Sure." She swung her shoulders out and stretched her arms like he'd taught her. "A cave for those cavemen. I see why they need a lock; it's so alluring."

"Hey, I happen to enjoy coming here." She tossed him a smirk over her shoulder as she moved on to her back and legs. "Are you calling me a caveman?"

"Maybe?"

He flashed a grin and reached to haul her over his shoulder in true caveman style before he caught himself. Joke or not, he had to be more careful. "What muscle groups are we working on? Or did you just want the rowing machine? Because that actually is in the workout gym."

She narrowed her eyes. "Weights are fine."

He bit his tongue and gathered a few free weights. "Arms first?" He demonstrated a bicep curl. "Try a few."

"These aren't so hard." She swung the weight up and back with ease, but he shook his head.

"Too much momentum. Go slower so you work the muscle instead." She improved her pace, and he nodded. "Better. Three sets of ten, each side." He headed back to the weight tree with her eyes following him each step. "Might as well get in a workout in myself."

He forced himself not to choose heavier weights for her benefit. He had to focus on spotting her in case she needed him. Sets flew by, and he moved them on to triceps.

She lay back on the bench, and he checked her neck support. "Palms up," he instructed, passing the weight. Remember slow."

She struggled through a couple reps. "Okay, this is a little harder."

"Most people don't spend enough time on their triceps. Eight more." She dipped the weight again a little faster than he liked. "Elbows in, El. Focus on your elbows each time up."

She lifted it with far better form. "Like that?"

"Yeah. Seven." He counted her down, and took the weight. "My turn." They traded places while he instructed, "Keep your hand," he eyed her arm "...hands six inches from the weight in case so I don't bash my head in and lose the little brains I've got. They call these Skull Crushers."

"Well, thanks for telling me that after I did them."

"Sure thing." He lowered weight with a huff. "Watch my elbows."

She made a face. "Of course you would make it look easy. Another set?"

He sat up. "Nah. We'll get to arms again with pull-ups anyway." He led her to the barbell. "Lay down and lift this." He watched as she did so, trying to estimate what weight for her to lift.

"What's this?"

"Bench press – chest mostly." He ignored her sharp look to load the weights, set her wrists and lift it into position for her.

"Okay, deep breath and push straight up." She struggled a little, but managed. "Now down and back up all in one motion. Good. How you feeling?"

"Fine," she managed through clenched teeth.

"Keep breathing." Her arms wavered, and he slipped a cautious hand under the bar. "Couple more….and up." He guided the bar to its rack, and she sat up to stretch.

"Oz, that hurts."

"Well, you probably don't have much muscle development on your chest yet." Another dirty look, and he rolled his eyes. "I said muscle." He racked the weights and moved on.

"Oh, you're not doing that one?"

"I need a spotter." She waved toward herself. "Who could actually lift the bar if it started choking me."

"Fair enough."

He guided her through back extensions next, pleased with how she picked it up, and then a few shoulder presses to see where she'd need work. He led her to the pull up bar, part of the final for sure. She eyed it hesitantly as he stood behind her. "Ready?"

"Um…."

He took a step toward her, tentative hands finding her waist to lift her up. "Palms toward you - grab the bar."

She hung there, anxiety stamped all over her face. "I don't think I can do one of these."

"You can. Breathe at the bottom. Focus on the bar. I'll help if you need me." She pulled hard, muscles on her arms taut in the struggle to lift herself. Her lower lip sucked into her mouth, arms shaking. She'd made it halfway up, but he could tell she wouldn't make a full set. He looped an arm around her thighs, and she jerked, startled enough her grip faltered.

"What're you doing?"

"Helping. Pull yourself up."

"Look, it's not like you can help me at the final like this. Don't I have to learn it myself?"

"This is how. Now pull yourself up."

"But-"

"Elphaba," he barked, and shocked, she blinked down at him. "Pull. Yourself. Up."

She nodded and pulled hard. He supported her weight until she reached the top.

"Good, now slow on the way down, and don't rest at the bottom; push through and up." Another nod, and she started the descent. With each set, he released more of her weight until by the fourth one, he only had an arm set for psychological help. "Shoulders back. You'll pull a muscle." She straightened. "Good. Keep going."

"No count?"

"Not yet. Next time we do these."

"We're doing them again?"

He let out a sigh. "No, not tonight. Last three."

"Three?" She complained, but she hauled herself up.

"Two now. Come on." She reached the bar again, and he let go for the final rep. "Okay, on your own, one rep." He knew she'd done several without him, but he needed her to get past the mental block herself. Sure enough, she struggled to finish.

"I can't."

"You can. Push, El. Come on, you can do anything."

"You're overly," she grunted out, pausing to hiss a strangled breath, "optimistic. I…"

"Lift." He willed her up, frustrated that he couldn't help. "Come on, a little farther."

Her weary arms shook, but with a final quivering pull, she reached at least a half-chin up.

"Yes. That's my girl." He let out a quick breath and returned his arms to her waist. "Let go. I got you."

She pried her fingers from the bar with a heavy sigh, dropping her arms to his shoulders as he lowered her to the ground. Exhausted, she let her forehead fall against his clavicle. His breath caught in his throat. Against every atom of his being, he released her and stepped back.

"You did great."

She blinked at his guarded tone, and a flush tinted her already reddened face. "Thanks," she let out in a whoosh of air, moving sweaty strands of hair back from her face. "What's next? The rack?"

"That's all for today." He used pouring her water as an excuse to avoid her eyes. "Unless you still want to use the rower."

She groaned. "My arms are killing me."

He flashed a commiserating smile. "Wait till morning." The key rested by the weights, and he collected it on his way to the door.

"That's it? No leg exercises?"

"Don't want to over-train." And he didn't want to risk mauling her and scaring her away for good. "We can do those tomorrow if you want, plus the rower."

She made a face, and he laughed.

"Or the day after. You won't be sore forever."

She rotated her stiff arms with a grimace. "I disagree."

"It's just a pull up," his tease was too gentle, and he was careful not to knock against like he would have before.

"Hey, I didn't see you doing any," she tossed back. Then as if she realized her words, she stopped and gazed pointedly at the bar, hand on hip. "Aren't you supposed to show me proper form?"

He narrowed his eyes at her. "You really want me to?" She swiveled her head with fake sass. "For the record, I tried to leave."

He jumped up to grab the bar and channeled his tension into fast, controlled dips. Exercise felt good for his frustrated system, and he couldn't help overdoing it. "This good enough?" He set a hand on his shirt, but stopped himself from removing it. "Can you see the muscles okay?"

"Arrogant."

"You asked." He tossed out a cheeky grin, evening out with his other arm.

"Doesn't mean you're not arrogant."

"Doesn't mean you're not impressed." He dropped to the ground, far cockier now than he should be.

"Come on, coach." She led him toward the door with a swing in her hips. "Time to get you out of these fumes before you get really delusional."