This is me needing to get something out of my system. The love of my life asked me to run lines with her... she got the part! So I guess I didn't fail so much, even though I was spazzing out. Needless to say, I am not William Shakespeare, or Edward de Vere, or any other supposed author of Shakespeare's work.

"Fiyero, this is really not what I had in mind when you asked me to help you study." She frowned, nibbling on the eraser of her pencil, pushing the small paperback book as far away from her as she could.

He gave her his best kicked-puppy face. "But Elphie-Fae, you always promised to help me with my schoolwork. You've been my goddess, my savior, my messiah more than once. How is this any different? It's for class."

She glared at him- the puppy look was lethal on it's own, did he really need to throw in the nickname? She sunk down into her chair in the back of the library... away from everyone else. She wasn't sure if that made things worse or better. "You aren't even in a theatre class. Why do you need me to help you run lines?"

"It's for my class on Great Ozian Literature," he said, pushing the book back at her, finding her page.

"Ozian Literature? Shakespeare is from the other world, not Oz! Why in the world would you study Shakespeare in Ozian Literature?"

He shrugged, smoothing a bit of his blonde hair out of his face. "Because it's good and the Wizard didn't bring enough books from the other world to have an Other World Lit class?" He let his hand brush against her arm, as he said, "C'mon, won't you help me?"

"You really want me to run lines from Romeo and Juliet with you?"

"Please? I really don't want to look like an idiot and my dad will kill me if I fail... again." That was what finally got her. When Fiyero had first come to Shiz he had reveled in blowing off classes and could care less if his father got mad at him. But he wanted to learn- and he wanted her to help. "But if you're performing this, isn't there a girl you're supposed to read with in your class?"

"She got some sort of flu... that big one everyone's been freaking out about lately. So she should be back in a few days, but..."

Elphaba crossed her arms and tried to melt into her chair and disappear. "OK, and what about Galinda, your girlfriend..."

He arched his eyebrow. "Umm, she has many strengths and weaknesses. Somehow I doubt her ability to follow the.. the way they talk? Old English?"

"Iambic pentameter, and Shakespeare isn't that old. It's technically still modern English."

He smiled just a little, knowing she was on the verge of giving in. "And your thoughts on Galinda understanding it?"

"Point taken, where did you want to start?"

He flashed his best smile, opening up his book, taking in a deep breath,

"If I profane with my unworthiest hand
This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this:
My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand
To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss."

Oz, the way he was looking at her. For a moment she considered telling him to say forget inheriting the Vinkan throne, he had a career in the theatre... but then she realized it was her turn to talk, so she stuttered out,

"Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much,
Which mannerly devotion shows in this;
For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch,
And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss."

He took her hand in his, giving her a smile as they both realized she had no career in the theatre awaiting her. But he kept on, as much adoration in his voice as a man in love. If she'd been one for silly romance, her stomach would've been in knots with butterflies... as it was, she did feel a little... fluttery.

"Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?" He brushed the forefinger of one hand over her cheek, and she considered telling him to stop, he didn't need the practice and she was sure to do him more harm than good. But she didn't.

She managed, "Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer," stuttering somewhat less but remembering what came next in the show.

"O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do;
They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair."

She felt her voice raise in pitch and saw him gently laugh, "Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake."

He gently cupped his hand under her chin, making her hold still:

"Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take.
Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged." Her eyes went wide, but he kissed her. Elphaba vaguely wondered if there was such thing as a stage kiss... If so, Fiyero didn't know what it was.

When she remembered to breathe, she choked out, "Umm," and he nudged her copy of the text, reminding her that the words were in front of her. "Then have my lips the sin that they have took."

"Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged!
Give me my sin again." And he kissed her again, as the text indicated... and of course, that was where they were when the librarian, having been alerted about the couple kissing in the back of the library. Elphaba turned red, a but of a feat considering her skintone, but Fiyero easily explained it, leading his mortified friend out of the library, and thanking her for helping him.

Once alone, Elphaba remembered Juliet's next line. You kiss by the book. Indeed, he did.