Sorry for the wait, you guys! My computer crashed and I lost all my work. :( I'll try to have another chapter up before I go out of town on Tuesday, since I'll be gone for a few weeks and might not be able to post anything.

Also, my apologies to Fae Tiggular-I know Fiyero's supposed to have blue eyes, but I have a bit of a thing for green eyes. You can pretend they're blue. :)

Anyway, here it is! It's pretty short, but like I said, I'll try to have another up in the next two days.

Elphaba woke early, feeling decidedly unrested. She'd tossed and turned all night, slipping in and out of dream after dream about Fiyero's lips, and trying desperately after each one to force her subconscious mind back to reality. Reality was that those lips were off-limits. Never going to happen.

Giving up any hope of sleep, Elphaba rolled out of bed, pulled on the ugliest black dress she owned, and stomped off to the library. Might as well be productive.

Why was she doing this to herself? Yesterday she'd felt perfectly fine, and then she'd let him hold her, and she'd held him, and now the ache of it all was unbearable.

The library was empty at this hour; even the librarian looked bleary-eyed and grumpy. 'Good. That makes two of us.'

Elphaba made her way to her usual secluded corner and settled into a lush scarlet armchair. She opened her history book, but couldn't make sense of it—couldn't get him out of her head: his broad shoulders, his gentle hands…those beautiful, beautiful lips…

"Elphaba."

Elphaba woke with a start. Her neck hurt; that was the first thing she noticed. There was a warm pressure on her shoulder—a hand. She maneuvered her stiff neck enough to look into a pair of deep green eyes.

"Hey. I thought I'd find you here." He was smiling softly, and her eyes were drawn to his mouth. Her face was on fire; she looked down at his torso. No good—memories flooded back from the night before: her head resting on his chest, her fingers gripping his shoulders and tracing the supple muscles of his back…Oz. Now she was sweating.

She moved her gaze to the hand on her shoulder—the same hand that had stroked her hair and pressed her close to him. She was going to scream.

"I was hoping you could help me with something."

She squeezed her eyes shut and cleared her throat. Her voice didn't seem to be working.

"Elphie? Are you alright?"

A mute nod was all she could manage. He turned away to grab a second armchair and place it next to her own. She hurriedly rubbed her burning cheeks, straightened her hair, and tried to pull herself together.

"What time is it?" she croaked as he sat down.

"About 12:30. How long have you been here?"

"Since 8." She yawned and rubbed her neck; no wonder it ached. "I couldn't sleep."

"Bad dreams?"

She flushed. "You might say that."

"And your first instinct was to come to the library. Perfectly normal." He was using his teasing voice now, and for some reason it made her blush harder.

"Well, I wanted to start researching my paper, but then I fell asleep, and—"

"And you've been sleeping in that awful chair for four hours. You must be awfully stiff."

"I'm fine."

"Elphie. You're rubbing your neck as we speak. Here." Before she knew what was happening, he was standing behind her, and his warm, gentle fingers probed the tender skin on the sides of her neck. She sucked in a breath.

"Is that where it hurts?"

"Yes." Her voice came out as a squeak; truthfully, she hadn't noticed the pain nearly so much as the tingle that erupted everywhere his fingers met her skin. She tensed instinctively.

"Elphie, relax." His voice dropped to a murmur. "I know what I'm doing."

'Do you? Do you have any idea what you do to me?'

As ignorant as he seemed to be of his effect on her, he certainly did know what he was doing. He stroked and kneaded her tired muscles into submission, and within moments the pain disappeared. Her eyes drifted shut and she melted into his hands as they moved to her shoulders and back to her neck, seeming now to do less massaging than caressing. His touch turned feather light and traveled from her neck along her jaw, across her cheekbones, into her hair. Another moment and she was going to scream, going to explode, it just wasn't fair, he couldn't touch her like this and then—

Suddenly he cleared his throat and pulled his hands away. "There. Does that feel any better?"

'No, it doesn't!' she wanted to scream. 'How are you so calm? How can you just stand there and make me want you so badly it hurts without doing anything at all?'

She nodded.

He sat beside her and looked at her with concern. "Fae? What's the matter? You seem really out of sorts this morning." He reached out and took her hands in his, and stroked his thumbs lightly over her wrists.

"You're doing it again," she blurted.

His forehead wrinkled. "Doing what?"

"Touching me."

"Does it bother you?" He leaned closer. "Because last night you didn't seem to mind."

His breath on her face addled her already panicked brain, and she couldn't take it any more. "I have to go."

"What?"

"I just have to go."

She snapped her book shut and bolted, ignoring Fiyero's calls behind her. She barely noticed the tears that streamed hot down her cheeks as she raced across campus. She had to get away from him.