A/N: Ok. This is my first fic. It's Gelphie (because they are just about THE CUTEST THING ON THE PLANET), so if you don't like, don't read. It's kinda prose-y, less plot than I intended, but I'll add that... later. Oh yea, and it switches POVs, beginning with Galinda, switching to Elphaba, and alternating from there. Feedback is appreciated and will encourage more writing. :)

Disclaimer: If I owned Wicked, you would know. Why? Because Galinda and Elphie would've kissed after "Popular."

The Things You Do To Me

It's the way your glasses are always perched so precariously on your sloped nose, resting right where cartilage becomes bone. It's the way you lounge jack-knifed on your dully colored bedspread, book in one hand, while the other rests idly on the flat plane of your stomach; the way your eyes drink in the words on the page while your mouth remains a straight line. You occasionally frown, the dark threads of your eyebrows knitting together, your lips pursed, and -- though it is rare -- when you smirk, you drape your eyelids over those deep brown irises, and the left corner of your mouth -- the one facing me -- turns upward. It's the way you turn the pages with the thumb of the hand that holds the book, not bothering to lift the other up a few inches, but leave it where it is, slightly above your diaphragm, riding out your slow breaths like an inner tube on a lake, gently rocking with the waves.

It's the way that when you finish reading, you snap the book shut, startling me, jolting me from my daydreams about you, immediately drawing my attention. I gaze at you, waiting for you to say something, but you only smile, a question behind your eyes: what exactly are you staring at, my sweet?

Not that I mind you staring at me. Not that I don't try to jut my lower lip out a little farther than usual, a flirtatious pout, or swing my hips a little more when you're watching. Not that I don't actually practice flipping my hair in the mirror when you're out at the Oz Dust. Not that I don't stare straight at your small frame when your back is turned. It's the way your dresses, though they are all different styles and colors, hug you, accentuating all the right curves. It's the way your eyes literally light up when you're excited, or the way they cloud over when you're tired, or darken when you're upset. It's the way your lips, lifted in a coy, coquettish half-smile, are able to captivate me and make me lose my train of thought. It's the way you skip around our dorm room, as if you're five years old and have found a pretty rock on the beach.

It's the way your golden curls, pure sunshine, fall in ringlets down your back, and when you brush them, you take your time, looking as if you're grooming yourself just for the fun of it. You sit on that bright comforter of yours, legs tucked neatly underneath your petite frame, torso slightly turned, so that your right shoulder -- bare porcelain in the dim lights of our room -- faces me, and I can observe freely the back of your neck, the cut of your jaw, the bones beneath the dress above the skin that I so desperately wish to lay my hands on. But then you are finished, and you lay your brush down beside you, and snap your head around to look at me, catching me gazing longingly at you. But instead of inquiring, you merely smile, a sudden awareness in your face: you want it too?

I want you to kiss me. I want to feel your soft, jade lips touched tenderly to my own. I want to hold your long, elegant hands, and toy with your bony fingers.

I want to kiss you. I want those supple, pale pink lips pressed against mine. I want to hold you in the night, protecting you from the world and it's horrors.

What is this feeling, so sudden and new? I felt the moment I laid eyes on you...

My pulse is rushing...

My head is reeling...

My face is flushing...

What is this feeling?

...So should I continue? Reviewers get cookies. :) lol.