Elphaba stretched her neck and flipped another page to the patter of rain on the windowsill. The chill from the wind seeped through the glass to assault her even huddled under her sweater. The rain hadn't stopped for over twenty-eight chapters now. Much as she loved to read, she'd been eager to leave hours ago.

A crash of thunder reverberated the air, rattling the glass in sympathy. Lightning flashed on the downpour as it whipped itself into a wilder frenzy.

She would never be leaving this library. She might as well find some paperback for a pillow because at this rate, she'd be trapped here until dawn at the earliest. It had to be close to midnight. Would Galinda even notice her absence? A half-daydream of her roommate sick with worry wormed through her thoughts even as she dismissed it. Galinda might be her friend now, but she was definitely not her keeper.

Another crash of thunder, and the yellow florescent lights kicked off. Perfect. The red exit signs mocked her. No lights meant no heat, and she was freezing already. She eyed the disaster outside…no signs of stopping.

Well, if she had to, she might as well get it over with.

Sweater draped around her, she cursed the tall, thick boots sitting innocently in her dorm room. At least leg burns were easy to hide. With a sharp breath, she flung herself to the storm. The book she sacrificed to protect what little she could, but even with that, she felt the stinging rain caustic on her skin.

She darted from cover to cover and fought back the throbbing pain. The last few yards to the dorm were the worst. No trees, no overhang, just wet, rainy death slashing her from the sky. She tackled it at a full sprint and banged hard into the main door.

Her key. Damn it, she should have taken it out already. She dug through her wet pockets, muttering ever more imaginative curses. Her fingers felt thick and sore as she stabbed the metal at the door. Finally, she made it in, and from the all-encompassing darkness, she knew the lights were out here as well.

With a weary grunt, she groped her way toward the stairs. She clawed at her buttons as she hauled herself toward her room. Just a few more steps, and she could trade this soggy mess for some warm, dry towels. Her hand found the wall and counted doorknobs until she reached her own. She hurled herself through the door and threw off the soaked frock. Neck twisted, she wrung out her hair and rummaged for a towel. Why couldn't she find anything in this clutter?

Maybe she could locate one of Galinda's candles.

"Hey, wake up." She crossed to the frilly pink bed on the other side of the room. "Seriously, Glin, I need your help." She shook the lump buried in lacy, fluffy blankets. It wobbled away, and she flopped down beside her roommate. "We need some candles."

A long arm snaked out of the blankets to wrap around her waist. "Mm," a low voice rumbled before warm, soft lips fell to her own. Eyes wide, she whacked at the restraining arm. "Hmm, what's wrong?" A large hand skimmed over her shift. "You feel so, mm," the lips skated over hers, "more so than-"

"Get off me, you cretin! Where's Galinda?"

"Huh?"

Now that sounded familiar. "Fiyero? What in Oz are you doing in her bed?"

He shot straight up, nearly smacking her in the face, and Elphaba fled to her side of the room. "Me? What about you?"

"Where's Galinda?"

"Where's your dress?" he countered. "And the lights? What the hell is going on?"

"Storm knocked them out."

The blanket rustled as he slid off the bed. "Your dress, too?"

She narrowed her eyes, not that he could see. "No, not my dress, jackass. I was trying to get dry."

"Oh." He heard the question in her silence. "Oh, Galinda told me I could sleep here. Avaric's driving me crazy. I haven't slept in ages."

"Where is she?"

The shuffle of cloth told her he must be looking for his shirt. "No idea. Think she's stuck out in all this?"

"I hope not. It's pretty nasty out there." She grabbed her blanket and pulled it around her. "Okay, get out."

"What?! You just said it's terrible."

"And?"

"And I'm not going to get drenched for no reason."

"Well you can't stay here. I need to take care of my, um, dress, before it, um, wrinkles." Even as she argued, she could feel the little pinpricks of water searing into what threatened to become blisters.

"Oh, come on. At least let me stay until it calms down. I'll help you hang up your dress."

"You'll keep your hands off my dress!"

"Yes, ma'am." A fuzzy cloth shoved itself into her hands, and she started. Was he that close? "Towel?"

"Where'd you get that?"

She could picture his shrug as he cleared his throat. "I might have spent some time here in the dark."

"Oh, Oz. So not a mental image I needed!"

He mumbled an apology. "Want another towel?"

"No," she snapped. Then a reluctant, "Yes."

Another fluffy towel made its way to her hands, and she wrapped it securely around her damp hair. "So can I stay? Just till the worst is over?"

"Fine. But you'd better behave."

"Yes, ma'am." She blotted the rest of her skin and wrung out her hair again. "Need anything else?"

"I'm fine." The towel scraped against the beginnings of a nasty burn along her collar, and she hissed a curse.

"Sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Leave me alone!"

A warm hand caught hers, and she startled back, nearly dropping the cool jar pressed between them. "Sure you don't need this?"

"I…what?"

"How bad are they?" She was too stunned to answer. "The burns. You must have been soaked."

"You know about the burns? How?" Mortification sped a flush of heat to her cheeks. "Galinda told you?"

He sighed. "I still don't see what the big deal is. It's nothing to be embarrassed about."

It sounded like an old argument, and she dreaded her next question. "How long have you known?"

"Elphie, I-"

"How long?"

Another heavy sigh. "Look, does this matter? Shouldn't we treat them before it gets worse?"

"Yes, it matters! All the times I told you, made excuses, and you knew?"

He took the cream back, and the click of the jar said he'd opened it. "Where do you need it?"

She snatched the jar out of his hands. "I can do it myself, thank you." He took a step back, and she crossed her arms. "Can you at least turn around?"

"Why? Afraid I'll spy on you?" She felt the gust of air from his gesture. The dark swallowed them still without even a shred of moonlight to dispel it, but still she shifted her weight to the other foot.

"Humor me."

"If I must." She felt him turn, and she dropped the blanket. Her shift, though mostly dry, had damp edges, and she shifted it away from her tender skin.

"I need," she managed a half-mortified whisper. "Could you try to find me a nightgown?"

The silence suffocated her until he came back with a hoarse, "Sure."

She slattered on the cream where she could reach: over ears and hairline, collarbone and neck. Her arms needed so many dots, she must resemble a leper. The splashes on her legs had left long, narrow marks, though below the ankles had avoided the worst of it. That, she knew, would be on her back from where she'd huddled for cover along the way.

"Here." He must have held the gown at arms-length to judge from his voice. She took the cotton material and prayed he had grabbed hers rather than Galinda's.

"Thanks," she murmured, and he echoed the tone with her welcome. At least mortal embarrassment taught them both some better manners. The pain in her back taunted her, so much sharper now that the others didn't draw attention. "You're not…"

Fiyero scoffed. "I'd like to think I can be a gentleman when it's called for."

She bit back a retort in favor of a cautious, "Good, then." With eyes closed, she steeled herself, and discarded her shift to the ground.

No reaction from the other half of the room, and she let out a tenuous breath. Her back to him, she treated the couple dots on her hip and waist before contorting toward those on her back. Shoulder rolling, she stretched and angled, but the middle of her back refused to be met.

She gathered the gown around her as best she could. "Fiyero?"

"Huh."

At least he was back on Galinda's side. She swallowed, and before her nerves could fail her, she asked, "Could you get my back?"

"Wha-I-um, course." She would never live this down. She hung her head as his steps reached behind her. "Um, where's the-"

"Here." She shoved the jar behind her, roughly connecting with his hands. "Not too much. It has to last the week."

"Ouch," he sympathized. "That's rough."

"Yes, well, at least it shouldn't scar."

The hand that fell on her back was gentle as a kitten's fur, but still she winced forward. "Sorry."

She sighed. "It's fine. Um, a little higher."

"Here?"

"Half-inch to the right. Bout the size of your thumbnail."

He followed her instructions, soothing the skin with gentle circles. "It's hard to tell. The skin's so smooth. I mean-"

"No blisters yet. Maybe not at all."

"Yeah." His fingertips danced over her shoulder blade. "Where next?" She guided him to the next spot, surprised when the other hand came up to the nape of her neck. "Hold still," he chastised, but she hadn't so much as breathed since his hand first touched her skin.

"Sorry," she exhaled.

His hand lifted for more cream, and she felt her eyes flutter closed. His breath cooled the ridge of cream smoothed at the base of her neck and shoulder. When had he gotten so close?

The dark made everything feel more intimate, as if the world had compacted to just the two of them, cocooned in darkness.

Between the warmth of his hands and the cool of the cream, she felt slightly feverish. He smoothed cream on the tops of her shoulders, which she'd already reached without him, but she didn't say anything. His hands skated over the backs of her arms, the curve of her spine, her lower back. She swallowed a groan as his fingertips trailed over her sides and ribs.

When it was clear he'd covered every inch of her back, he cleared his throat. "Guess you're all set then."

"Yeah. Thanks."

"Anytime." He set his hands on her shoulder for a brief, soft squeeze. "Anytime."

She swallowed hard and pulled her gown over her shoulders. "How's the rain?" They both glanced toward the window where the downpour raged on.

"I can go, if you want. It doesn't seem that bad." She could imagine his lips quirked in a wry grin. "No tornados, at least."

"Shut up." She aimed a punch to his shoulder and got his chest instead. "You can stay."

"Sure?" She shoved him in answer, and he wrapped a hand around her wrist before it connected. "Thanks."

It lasted too long, but she broke the moment to pull away. "It'd be poor payment to kick you out in the storm, after all."

"True."

"And Galinda will be expecting you here, I guess." He made a noncommittal noise in his throat, and she retreated to her bed, only to trip on the damp blanket abandoned on the floor.

"Whoa, hey there." He caught her with an arm around her waist, and she gasped. "Careful."

"How did you-" The blood drained from her face. "Can you…see?"

He set her back on her feet and took a large step back. "That's crazy. It's darker than a grave in here."

"Fiyero Tiggular," she warned, finger forward in a point aimed for his chest. "You'd better not be lying to me."

He dodged her. "What makes you think that?"

"You!" She flailed out to find him, and harrumphed at the empty air she found. He swallowed a chuckle, and she used the sound to latch on to his shirtsleeve. "Gentleman, my ass. How can you see?"

"My father would do most of our training at night, hunting and whatnot. My eyes have always adjusted to it well." He ducked her whack. "But I can't see see, you know? Just enough to see that if I could see see there are some great sights to be seeing, if you see them."

"What?"

"Just shapes and silhouettes. Some great-looking shapes. Soft, smooth, nice-smelling shapes that make you really wish you could be seeing them. That's all."

She wrapped her arms around herself. "…Right."

"Let's just go to bed," then his voice jumped up an octave as he darted away from her shove, "separately, of course."

"I guess the rain doesn't seem to be letting up anytime soon." She retreated to her bed and felt for a dry blanket. "I should throw you out after that stunt you pulled."

"Lucky for me you're as generous and good-hearted as you are brilliant."

She rolled her eyes, unseen in the blinding darkness. "You don't have to kiss up. I already said you could stay."

"If I'd have known kissing was any kind of option…" he trailed off at her scoff. "But seriously. Thank you for letting me stay. Goodnight."

"Night." She crawled into bed, and scuttled back off. Stupid! She must have abandoned her soggy hair towel right in the middle of her bed instead of on the floor. She thought about changing all the sheets, in the dark, all with the hopes that the mattress itself was dry, and sighed.

This was a bad idea. She shouldn't.

She crossed the room and shook the blob of frilly blankets again. "Fiyero?"

"Still me."

"My bed is wet. My towel aim is terrible."

"Oh." He scooted over automatically, and with a willful idiocy, she crawled into the warm blankets. She just wanted the day to be over. "Nice and dry over here."

"And warm," she murmured before she caught herself. "You're like a furnace."

"And you're freezing. Oz, woman." His hands folded over one of hers to rub it gently.

"You try being caught in a downpour. You'd be cold, too."

"Well, you're so thin. Probably freeze to death one night in a Vinkun winter." He reached across to trade hands.

"Do they have a winter?"

"A common misconception." He inched toward her. "It may not snow, but it's equally cold."

She edged more on the corner of the pillow. "Do you miss it?"

"Sometimes." His hand twitched over hers. "But Shiz has its own advantages."

"Mm." It must be hard for him – his life split between opposite ends of Oz. She'd never had that problem. Munchkinland was more prison than home for her.

"Still cold?" He leaned over to pinch her nose playfully. "Guess so."

"Shut up." She squirmed away from his hand, but he caught her waist.

"Hey, just trying to help you get warm." His nose found her hair. "Can't have you freeze to death."

Her breath caught. Was he…flirting with her?

The cream must have absorbed straight through her skin to make her hallucinate. She should move away from him, go get in her own bed. She should not turn to bury her nose in the crease of his neck and shoulder. And when he followed a sharp intake of breath with a half-formed kiss to her hairline, she should definitely not let her fingers brush feather-light on the hard, forbidden flesh of his chest.

The fingers on her waist tightened, and he let out his breath with an unsteady rush of air. His scent surrounded her face buried against his neck, drowning her logic in soap and sun and warmth. She shifted toward him just an inch, enough to make her blood race wildly in her veins. His hand trailed up to her jaw, and he tucked his face down so his lips drifted to the corner of her mouth.

They should stop. They hadn't done anything unforgiveable yet. She forced herself to whisper the thought aloud, "We shouldn't."

He nodded, the motion sliding his nose against her cheek. At least he didn't deny it. His eyelashes fluttered against her brow-bone in light, delicate sweeps. She controlled a shiver. He swallowed hard and whispered, "Any warmer?"

Oh, she was warm, alright.

"Yea, I'm…" She gulped in a breath, ready to retreat before she made a complete fool of herself when his lips fell on hers. They were soft and gentle and perfect. He pulled back, her lips following him like lonely pilgrims.

"Sorry," he breathed. "Forget I-"

But her lips had reached his again, and damage done, she was going to make this worth the ensuing fallout. He deepened the kiss and pulled her flush against him. His lips moved over hers hungrily, and she responded with equal fervor. She was a horrible person. A horrible, wicked, stupid person currently attached to the most incredible kisser the whole of Oz had to offer.

He caught her hip, and her leg tangled with his. She twisted a hand in his shirt, hauling him tighter against her. He pulled her thigh higher, hand slipping up her cotton gown. She nipped at his lower lip, and he bit out a groan. They were getting out of control. More so than she could have imagined, when his lips fell to attack her neck right where her collar had exposed the skin to the rain. She hissed and lurched away.

Startled, he jerked back and cracked his head on the bedpost. For a shocked moment, both of them lay there, wide-eyed and breathing hard. "Ow," he raised a hand to his head, before a half-breathed laugh snuck past. She stared at the darkness where he'd been, but the nerves and utter ridiculousness of the situation brought her to laughter, too. Chuckling like children, they lay there for a while, regaining their senses. "Am I that hard to knock some sense into?"

That brought a fresh peal of laughter from them both. Breathless, she leaned into the pillow, calm despite the overwhelming dread she felt. When the hiccups subsided, he trailed a finger over her palm. "You okay?"

"Yeah. You barely touched the burn." She felt his nod, though she knew he'd meant more than just that. "You?"

"Fine. You know I've got a thick skull."

She drew a deep breath, which he mimicked beside her. "We have to tell Galinda."

"Yeah." His fingers intertwined with hers. "I know."

She curled in on herself and put on her most reassuring tone, "She'll forgive you. Don't worry. After enough groveling and jewelry." Can't split up the perfect couple. Elphaba, on the other hand…

"No," he whispered, "she won't. Because I'm not going to apologize."

"Fiyero," she warned, but he pushed on.

"You're the one I want." He let out his breath like Atlas dropping the planet. "Oz, that feels good to finally say out loud." His lips came to her forehead in a soft kiss. "I understand if you don't want me, can't hurt Galinda or whatever. But I can't keep pretending you're not the one I'm thinking of."

"But-"

He stopped her with a soft kiss. "Can…can we not have this argument now? You're going to defend her and say I should be in love with her, and you won't understand that I'm just not. I've heard everything you're going to say a million times in my head, which is why I've never…done anything about this." He pulled her against his side and set their twined hands on his chest. "Let me have this one, okay? Just for a few minutes."

She sighed. "A few minutes," she acquiesced and buried her face back into his neck. "That's all."

"Thanks," he murmured, and he nuzzled the side of her face. "You're amazing."

His thumb stroked over her finger idly, and she let hers return the favor. The dark and the warmth and their newfound quiet spread a false peace through her, and she decided not to worry about the consequences until the storm passed. Lulled by the raindrops, she hoped it would be a long, dark night.

AN: Thanks to Holly Bush for the story idea. I had way too much fun writing it, hence the length. I thought about adding another 'stuck in the dark' chapter, with an Elpharic pairing. Or Fiyeraba again, if that's what you guys would prefer. Let me know what you guys think, and as always, thanks for reading.