A/N: oh. my. God. you guys... are amazing. thanks SO much for all your lovely reviews, I honestly wasn't expecting all that! It's been a while since I've made an appearance in the Wicked section, and faithful readers is always great to have, so thank you! Here's chapter two... it's gonna be a short story (not sure how many chapters yet), and alternating POVs, so this one is Fiyero's. Happy reading, and keep up those great reviews!

Chapter Two

He was out of breath. Now that the sun had gone down and the adrenaline had faded, he started to feel the cold, slowly sipping into him. But it didn't matter. It seemed that nothing did. He didn't look away from her. He wouldn't; he wouldn't let her win. Yes, ridiculous, but this was what it had gone down for, a childish war, because she obviously thought she was better than anyone else. Who knew, it could have been a way for her to compensate the color of her skin, for all he knew.

Anyway, there they were, facing each other in the darkening grove. And he was still waiting for her reply, waiting desperately, but he would never admit it to her. What was it about her that intrigued him so? What was it about her that made him follow her so blindly, so unlike him? It went beyond the color of her skin, or her Galindafication, although he had to agree he was taken aback by it when he had seen her earlier in class. But he couldn't bring himself to admit it – no, it would have risked his reputation far more than necessary – so he mocked her instead.

And then that happened, and he couldn't just… leave her there. He saw what she had done while she was furious, who knew what she was capable of, by herself? So he tagged along. He was trying to help. And she? All she seemed to care about was how to be nasty to him. Speaking about ungrateful. And then before he knew it, she started… analyzing him, as if he was the most obvious person in Oz. It scared him. She hardly knew him, why would she uncover all those things about him? His discomfort grew with each observation; he wasn't sure how to react, so he thought he'd just walk away and leave her there.

She grabbed his hand. He hadn't expected her to do that. There was something incredibly desperate to this act. Something within her transformed. Her eyes didn't seem furious anymore. Her expression softened, still unreadable to him. And suddenly, he just had to know. He didn't even realize the question bothered him so until he had uttered it. Why was he the only one she didn't do it to?

A gasp escaped her, violently shaking him off his reverie. "You're bleeding," she whispered urgently, raising her hand to his face. She didn't seem to be aware of her movement, but he was. He stopped his breath instinctively when her finger ended up resting against his cheek. It was cold, but it was hardly felt. His face was on fire. His whole body was. His head was reeling. What was happening? "It must have scratched you."

For a moment, he wasn't sure what she meant, but then a burning sensation on his face reminded him. The cub. "Yeah… or maybe it scratched me, or something," he replied dumbly. He realized what he had said only after he did, but it was too late to take back the ridicule. He was horrified with himself. It was almost as if he was looking at the scene from the side, because this boy was not him. This boy wanted to wrap his arms around this girl who had just offended him and claimed to know the mysteries of his heart. This boy wanted to kiss her and see if her lips really tasted as sweet as they seemed. This boy longed to hold her and never let go.

Slowly, so he wouldn't frighten her, he leaned forward, stealing a glance at her. There was no fear in her eyes, just confusion. Her lips were slightly parted, as if with question. Before he could think better of it, he covered them with his.

It didn't last long, though, for the cub had other ideas. A loud wail tore into the silence. He cowered backwards; so did she. It was comforting to know he wasn't the only one who couldn't figure out the situation. His cheek burned, not so much from the cut but more from the absence of her touch. He stared at her in wonderment. How did she do it? It was impossible he would just… fall for her, just like that… wasn't it?

Yet somehow, he had.

He reached for her chin and tilted her head a bit up so he could meet her eyes. Whatever in Oz he was feeling, the same strange emotion was reflected from her eyes as well. But he didn't want to question it. There was only one thing he wanted to do now.

He kissed her, gently. He felt her tense beneath his touch. Other than that she didn't flinch, but she didn't even give him a sign she would slap him if he pulled away, either. Then before he realized it, her lips parted ever so slightly. She was kissing him back now, too, hesitantly, as if she was half expecting him to run off in a moment.

Like hell he would.

He delved deeper into the kiss, nestling her face between his palms. What started as a sweet, innocent kiss was soon turning into something else, far from innocent. He slipped his hands from her face only to entangle them in her hair, that long raven hair, that fascinated him from what felt like eternity now. She wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing him closer. A wave of heat surged through him as their tongues battled, caressing one another. There was nothing he wanted more than laying her backwards against the soft grass and…

He pulled away from her, panting, as the thought hit him. No. He couldn't. Not with her. Thinking about it alone felt wrong. If it was any other girl he wouldn't have hesitated, but she was not like that.

And remembering she was still there, he dared to look up and meet her eyes. She seemed breathless, her cheeks dark with blush, her lips slightly swollen from their kisses, her eyes sparkling with something he couldn't quite identify. She was watching him now, waiting it seemed, but for what? Did she expect him to make an apology? Of course, the most gentlemanly thing would be to apologize for his impulsive, beastly, inappropriate behavior, but that's not what he wanted to do. Not as long as he couldn't figure out what in Oz had just happened, and more importantly why. But he had initiated it; he was obviously expected to speak first.

"I, uhhh, I don't know what came over me." Which was true, but also incredibly lame as an excuse.

"That's alright. Nothing happened."

He stared at her incredulously. Even though he was hurt by her statement, he was relieved to read the lie in her eyes. Something did happen. And she knew it as well as he did. "I'm not going to apologize, if that's what you were hoping for," he said, feeling quite bold.

"Yes, I thought you wouldn't," she replied, laughing nervously. "Can I ask you something else though?"

To be honest, he feared the questions that may rise in her mind, but he didn't seem a smart enough way to avoid it. "Go ahead."

She hesitated for a moment. "Earlier in class," she started, her voice quiet yet steady. "You said I didn't have to do this," she said, motioning her blouse, the one he recognized to be Galinda's. "I'm not sure why you'd say such a thing. Why you'd bother."

Her honestly caught him off guard. How was he supposed to reply without making a complete fool out of himself? He stalled for a moment, staring at her blankly, looking for the right thing to say. The look she gave him was persistent. She really did want to know. "I can't answer that," he mumbled eventually, defeated. His face burned. He was blushing. Great.

"Because you don't know, or because you don't want to?" she pressed.

He looked away from her. It felt as if she could read right through him, like she had done before. It was frightening. Up until that afternoon she loathed him like no other; it wasn't hard to guess. How come now, she of all people could read him so well?

"Be honest with me," she pleaded after a moment. "Do you think it looks ridiculous? More ridiculous than normally, I mean. Is that what it is all about?"

"No, of course not!" How could she think so little of him? Well not that he hadn't given her enough reason to do so, but could she really think he'd think that after what had just happened? "You look beautiful," he whispered, hardly looking at her. That was the true. But she looked beautiful with her own clothes; she didn't need Galinda's fancy attires to show it off.

A shadow crossed her expression. Her eyes narrowed. "Oh, I see."

Her tone got colder. Somehow he said something he shouldn't have. "What?"

"Look, you don't have to do this."

"Do what?"

"Spend more time with me so you would appear more agreeable to Galinda."

What? "That's not what I was doing!" She raised one eyebrow skeptically. He tried not to think of how endearing this small motion was; there were more urgent matters to take care of now. "Come on, now you're being ridiculous. Do you really think Galinda would have approved us being here, me kissing you?"

"What are you doing then?" she shot back, out of necessity to say the last word, it seemed.

"I… don't know," he confessed, momentarily at loss. Then he looked at her hesitantly, a small smile curling on his lips. "But you're here too." She looked away, with silent admittance it seemed. "I think you're asking the wrong questions," he said, taking her hand before she had a chance to resist. She watched him as he raised her hand to his lips and pressed a small kiss against her palm.

"Why?"

It could mean anything, but he knew just what she meant. This was the question she was meant to ask, instead of every other meaningless inquiry. And he thought he had the answer now. "Because it feels right."

A shiver went through her, and as a sudden chill overtook him, he realized she must be cold. "Here, allow me," he said, moving to sit behind her. Before she could protest, he wrapped his arms around her, cradling her against the cold. It took a moment before she relaxed into his embrace with a murmured 'thank you'.

"You're welcome," he whispered in her ear. He felt so strange. One moment they were yelling at one another, and the next…

"We should probably get going, though."

It took him a moment to realize she was referring to the cub, who was now silent in his cage. It was incredibly selfish of him, but the last thing he wanted was to pull away from her. "I don't think he'd mind if we stay here a little bit longer."

She turned in his arms, and although he thought she'd be furious, there was definitely a smile hidden in her expression. "They'd start searching for him soon," she said softly.

He shifted a bit so he was facing her again. Then he leaned forward to lay a small kiss against her lips. "Not…" – kiss – "…yet…" he murmured, trailing kisses along her jawline and neck. He hated himself for having to use that trick on her, but he was desperate. He pulled away from her with difficulty and glanced at her. He knew that he had her; her eyes were dark, watching him with protest. He grinned mischievously and captured her lips with his once more.

He could sense her defenses dropping as she wrapped her arms around him and kissed him back.