"Fiyero," Elphaba murmured that night, fresh off her quality time with Fiyero's girlfriend. "I can't keep coming back here."

"Yes you can. Now go to sleep."

"Fiyero! I'm serious."

Fiyero sighed. "We'll talk about it tomorrow. It's sleepy time now. Shh."

Elphaba smiled, glad she was facing away from him so he couldn't see the look on her face and interpret it as permissive. He was being ridiculous, she knew that. But he was so funny about his ridiculousness.

It was the middle of the night when, spooning with her, Fiyero's hands began to travel her body. Over her hip, up her stomach, coming dangerously close to her breasts, then back down, over her hip and down her thigh, then back up to her hip, though his hand didn't slide under the material of the shirt. It ached to, but it did not.

"Fiyero," she murmured, unsure if he was awake or not.

He wasn't, really, as his hand pressed into her hip, though certain portions of him were waking. "Mm," he sighed in response.

"Fiyero."

He woke up then, and nuzzled into the back of her neck, then breathed into her ear, "Yes?"

"Are you alright?"

"Mm-hmm," he smiled. "You?"

"Um, you're..." his hands massaged her lightly, comfortingly. "You're touching me," she said finally.

"Sorry," he sighed, though he didn't move.

"Why?" She felt frozen, unsure of his intent. "Why are you touching me?"

He sighed again, realizing he'd have to admit his feelings before he could proceed. And then she'd run, flee back to her loser boyfriend, and never sleep next to him again. He stopped what he was doing, though he wanted to pull his shirt off of her and claim her, move with her, show her how he felt with each caress, stroke and kiss. "I was sleeping," he said. "It's not my fault." His words sounded false, even to him, despite his desperateness for them to be true.

"Oh." Her voice was quiet, betraying only that she wasn't thrilled, but about what, he didn't know. Was she angry at him? Did she think his story was bogus? Or was she upset that he hadn't meant to touch her so intimately?

He had meant to, only he was convinced she didn't want it. Wouldn't she have made it clear by now if she did? Yes, she would have been honest with him. Suddenly, he felt as though she were here under false pretenses, as if he was taking advantage of her and lying about what he wanted from her, though he hadn't meant to at the time. Despite the arousal that was coursing through him, he hadn't anticipated it when he'd begged her to stay with him. "I lied," he blurted out. "I wanted you. I'm sorry, it won't happen again."

Elphaba remained facing away from him, too shocked to move and too afraid to roll over and meet his gaze. "You did?"

"Yes," he groaned, almost dropping away from her onto his back before remembering the bruises covering it. "I wanted you. I want you. I'm only human," he whispered. "It's not my fault you're the glowing embodiment of seduction."

She flew around at that, eyes blazing, even in the dim light. "That's a lie, Fiyero Tiggular. Don't say things like that, don't lie to me."

"I'm not lying," he shot back, unsure as to why they were suddenly angry at each other. "I'm not lying at all, Fae. You're drop-dead gorgeous, the sexiest woman I've ever met, and I love you on top of it. I'm confused, alright? I'm confused, but I'm not a liar." He threw the covers off and shot out of bed, pacing the floor, and she sat up to watch him, hugging the covers to her chest.

His skin rose in goose bumps across his tight shirtless torso, and she shivered, though she attributed it to the chill in the air. "What are you saying?"

"I'm not sure," he exclaimed, before clamping a hand over his mouth. "Shit," he cursed. He paused, listening for movement of any kind in the stillness of night, and couldn't hear anything. "You're my best friend," he said, gently. "You're the person I trust most in the whole world, and I love you, I love you like family. So when I think of you as sexy... I find myself wanting you, often, and I don't know how to put those two things together. I've never had those two things together before. What do you call that?"

She stared at him a moment. "It's supposed to be a relationship," she said, finally. "You're supposed to be with your best friend and your lover when you're in a relationship."

He paused. "Seriously?"

She had to chuckle. "If it's a mature relationship, then yes. At least," she added, "from what I've heard."

"Then that's what I want," he said, walking back to her and sitting next to her, closer than she was comfortable with. "I want a relationship."

"Fiyero, you're being ridiculous," she hissed. "You don't want to be with me, you want to be with Galinda." She paused, and noticed that he was staring so deep into her eyes, it made her forget her train of thought for a moment, which made her uncomfortable.

"I thought I was just upset because he was taking up your time," Fiyero started, deciding to begin at the beginning. "I thought I hated Curse because I was used to being the only guy in your life, which is true, but it's not the whole truth. I really... At first, I thought it was just an adjustment period. But it's not," he said. "Curse... I hated to see him with you, and I hated to see him at all. I thought he wasn't smart enough for you, then I thought that neither am I, I thought he wasn't good enough for you in any way, I thought it all the time. I thought he was a stupid little boy who would never be man enough to make love to you the way you deserved -"

Elphaba's head shot up at that. "You thought about that?"

Fiyero flushed, and leaned away from her a little. "I thought he would be awkward and he would hurt you and he would... I thought it would be bad, and then he'd leave you, and ruin your life. And so I hated him for all those reasons, saying it was loyalty to you, that it was friendship. But that night, at the Philosophy Club -"

"Fiyero, don't do this," Elphaba said, shuffling down the bed. "Let's not do this now. You're tired, you're confused."

He got up and took her wrists in his hands. "Elphaba, I'm a million things, but I know this part," he said. "That night, when I saw you, the first thing I thought was that if anything happened to you my heart would not survive." His voice caught in his throat, and she whimpered, not wanting him to cry, not wanting to cry herself.

"Fiyero, please..."

"I realized that you are my heart, and so... Every time they hit me, all I thought of was you, safe in your bed. That it was me and not you, that was all I cared about. And at the end of the night, when that son of a bitch dwarf asked me if I was proud of myself," he paused. "I was. I was honoured to have saved you, to have taken that beating for you. And I knew, then, that I'd do anything for you, till the day I died." He took her face in his hands. "So, there it is. I want you, I desire you. And I'd go to the ends of the earth for you." He winced, knowing his next words could be his last. "I think it means I'm in love with you."

She looked like he'd struck her. "N-no," she stammered, backing away. "No, you're not. You can't be..."

"Fae..."

She moved to the door, then realized how she was dressed. Trapped, she felt trapped. The feeling of fear replaced itself with anger, as was necessary. "Why are you doing this?" She whirled around to face him. "What's the point of this?"

"I'm not doing anything, I'm just saying how I feel -"

"Well maybe I don't want to know how you feel," Elphaba snapped.

Fiyero felt his insides crash to his knees. Why was she acting like this? It made sense to him, but he still didn't understand it. Of course Elphaba would run from emotion, from sentiment, from something like this that was shaped so much like vulnerability. But he was so used to her running from her own that it shocked him to hear her so adverse to him revealing his feelings, unless... "You love me, too," he realized. Her face widened in shock. Her mouth, her eyes - she appeared caught with her hand in the cookie jar, and he couldn't let her take it out. "You love me, too."

He kissed her, then, and it felt like soaring. His lips pressed to hers firmly, his hands made their way to her face again, and he knew he was right, on both counts: he loved her, and she loved him. Her lips responded, and he captured her mouth again and again until he could take no more and deepened the kiss. Her body pulled to his, they stumbled back toward his bed, and he turned them, then eased her down, climbing on top of her with need and passion and love and tenderness.

His left hand cupped the back of her neck and the right gently prodded her neck as his lips wandered from their assumed sanctuary. Her jaw line, her ear, then down her neck... He was on fire with arousal. Her hands brushed his sides, and she whispered, "I'll hurt you, if I touch you."

"Nothing could hurt me now," he vowed. "I've never felt this good." His hands wandered gently, his fingertips brushing her skin as they slid under her shirt. She gasped, and he paused. "Is this alright?"

She nodded. "It's just new," she whispered, blushing. "Nobody's ever..." She was glad it was him, because she trusted him. She wanted to tell him, and opened her mouth to do so, then froze. Why did she assume they were going to sleep together? It certainly appeared to be going that way, but did she really want to talk to him about it now? Was she even sure she was sure about all this? So, instead, she said nothing, deciding that she would decide when the moment came what was going to happen.

Her hand grazed a rib and he sucked in a breath through his teeth. Though his pause in kissing her was brief, it was enough to flood her with guilt. "You're in pain," she said. "It was my fault the first time, I don't want to hurt you again."

He kissed her, gently, sipping at her lips, prodding at them with his tongue until it met hers. "Don't worry about it," he said, smiling at the feel of her. "It was worth it, then, and it's worth it now."

"Have I thanked you enough?" She knew she'd never feel she had. "I haven't," she answered her own question, between kisses.

He slowed his kisses. "Is that why you're doing this?"

Her eyes met his, her eyebrows pulled toward each other briefly in confusion. "No," she answered, shaking her head.

"I don't want this out of guilt, or gratitude," he said, bracing himself on his elbows to study her. "Fae, I don't want it that way."

"It's not," she promised softly. "I didn't even think of it..."

"Do you promise?"

She kissed him, to answer him, and reached for the waist of his pants, sliding the tips of her fingers just under the band. His body jumped, and his face was a beacon of surprise. They kissed some more, breathless with it, and their hips started to subtly move the way they yearned to; slowly and gently tilting toward each other. Neither noticed, however, as Fiyero's exploratory caresses led him to the hem of her nightshirt, which he started to pull away from her skin.

In response, she slid her hands to his hips and started to push his sleeping shorts down, and he paused. "Fae, are you sure?"

She wasn't sure. Did Fiyero really love her? How could he, when he was so perfect, and beautiful? How could he, when she loved him? That was the biggest sign of all, that he didn't really love her: she loved him, and it would just be too perfect. "I'm sure," she lied, though convincingly. She slid his shorts as far off as she could, and he kicked them off the rest of the way as he pulled her free of his shirt and gazed at her.

She stole his breath away, and kept it awhile. When it finally returned, gasping, he shook his head in an attempt to clear it, and looked into her eyes. "Don't be scared," he said, seeing that she was. "I love you, don't be scared." He trailed his hands over her, kissing every inch he could from her neck to her navel. "You're so beautiful," he murmured against her skin.

Sliding back up to her face, he saw that she didn't believe him. Well, he would just have to show her...

For those of you who prefer to use your imaginations, read no further. For those of you looking for an M-rated oneshot of what happens... It's written, and will be posted once people have had a chance to read this ;)