A/N: Hi, guys! I was getting ideas again, so I'm back with another chapter. I think this one's a bit longer than the first two, so I'm hoping you'll enjoy that. Have some fluffy tension (and more descriptions of Elphie, because honestly, why not?)

"All right, your turn. Fiyero?"

"Truth," Fiyero said lazily.

Galinda lowered her lashes with an anticipatory smirk. Avaric rolled his eyes. "Coward."

"Not necessarily," said Boq, who Fiyero wasn't sure had been invited.

"Biq's right. It could be something juicy," said Galinda with a devilish grin.

"Boq," Boq muttered.

"Yes, quite," Galinda said absently. "All right, Fiyero…what have you dreamed of doing with me?"

Fiyero laughed. "I don't want to give Avaric ideas," he said. He slid his hand around her waist, pulled her to him, and kissed her, parting his lips slightly and teasing with his fingers. He thought he heard Boq make an annoyed noise but decided to ignore it.

"That's your sample," he said teasingly. "I'll tell you the rest later."

Galinda giggled, her cheeks going even rosier beneath the blush she already wore. "I can hardly wait," she said, fluttering her eyelashes coquettishly.

Avaric smirked. "Nice one there, Fifi. Well? Is it my turn?"

"Yes," Boq grumbled.

"Sweet," said Avaric. "Truth or dare, munchkin?"

"Er…" Boq's eyes darted between Galinda and Avaric. "Dare. Um...yeah, dare."

Avaric grinned wickedly. "Excellent," he said. "I dare you to…smell Galinda's hair."

Galinda giggled and swung her head to the side, letting her perfectly groomed golden locks hang down. "You're lucky, I just washed it with my new shampoo this morning."

Boq's ears went blotchy scarlet. "I—but—fine," he said.

Galinda daintily extended one perfumed curl. Boq averted his eyes, gave it a quick sniff, and then pulled away as if he'd been struck.

"It's called Strawberry Summer," Galinda trilled. "Do you like it?"

"It's very nice," Boq mumbled. He looked as if he'd developed a rash.

Avaric snorted. "Okay then, Munchkin, Galinda's up. Ask away."

"Truth or dare?" Boq asked, still refusing to look at her.

Galinda smiled sweetly. "Truth."

"Uh...how much did that strawberry stuff cost?"

Fiyero and Avaric groaned.

"That's weak," said Avaric. "Ask her something interesting. Why did we let him play?"

"Shh," said Galinda, although she couldn't hide a small smile. "More than I should really tell you. Well…"

She pulled out her feathery white quill, adjusted its shape, and scratched down a number. Avaric and Boq stared at it, wide eyed.

Fiyero laughed. "I've spent that much on a bottle of—well, I guess it's my turn. Avaric, I'm going with dare."

"Perfect," said Avaric, his eyes gleaming. "We're meeting back up at the Ozdust tonight—I dare you to dance with the artichoke."

Fiyero's stomach flipped.

"Avaric," Galinda said chidingly. "She's my friend now, remember?"

"She's still weird," said Avaric. "But freak or friend, Fifi here has to dance with her. And it's gotta be a slow song."

"Avaric!" Galinda exclaimed.

Fiyero stayed quiet. He wasn't sure why the prospect scared him.



Avaric was giving him a thumbs-up from across the crowd. Fiyero's stomach lurched.

"What?" She looked irritated that Galinda had dragged her along, but Fiyero couldn't help thinking it—she also looked good. Really good. And it wasn't Galinda's kind of good either. It was hers, her own style shining through Galinda's handiwork. She was wearing a black dress with an elegant closure in the front and a low waist that displayed her faint curves; the bodice glittered under the lights and the long skirt brushed the floor.

Fiyero swallowed and tried to paste on a charming grin. "May I have this dance?" he asked, bowing and extending his hand.

She stepped back and stared at him. "Are you mocking me?"

He straightened up, perplexed. "Um...no. I'm asking you to dance with me."

"And here I thought you had at least one remaining brain cell," she muttered. "You heard what the next song is, didn't you? I think you've got the wrong girl."

"Galinda's okay with it," Fiyero said. He glanced across the floor at her. It wasn't entirely the truth, but she had agreed to let him do this.

Elphaba narrowed her eyes. "What is this about, anyway? You know I don't dance."

"Well, you do now. Come on, please?" Fiyero didn't realize he'd taken her hand until goosebumps shot up his arm and she stared pointedly at their joined hands. He quickly dropped hers.

"Fine," she sighed, "but for one song. And you had better not be lying about Galinda."

"Don't worry," Fiyero said as he pulled her onto the floor, "I'll teach you."

"I hope so," she muttered.

Fiyero grinned. Keeping a respectful distance between them, he set one hand on her waist and took her free hand in his own. She looked as though she didn't know what to do with the other hand; he laughed and guided it to his shoulder.

"Okay," he said under his breath, "when I step forward, you step back. When I step back, you step forward. When I step to the side, you go the same way. Got it?"

"Sure," she said tersely, her eyes fixed on their feet. Fiyero glanced at their hands again; he couldn't help but enjoy the sight of her brilliant emerald skin against his own.

When the music started, Fiyero began a simple waltz; as a prince, he'd been taught this so young that he could do it in his sleep. He could feel Elphaba's uncertainty in the way her grip on his hand and shoulder grew tighter, but he tried to reassure her by whispering instructions under his breath.

"Back—front—side. There, that's it."

They began to fall into a rhythm, and she allowed herself a small smile.

"Want to try a spin?" Fiyero asked.

The smile was replaced by panic. "No!"

"Great!" he said with a smirk, raising his arm.

"But I said—"

The turn was smooth until the last step; she tripped and landed with her hands against his chest. Fiyero tried not to laugh at the indignation in her expression. Without really thinking about it, instead of resuming their earlier position, he slid both hands around her waist, holding her close.

"What are you doing?" she hissed, suddenly looking flustered.

He smiled. With her this close, he could see the eyeliner that was, no doubt, Galinda's idea. He could see the way the lights overhead danced across her, turning her skin into a shade-dappled forest. He could see every silver fleck that glittered in her eyes like stars.

"I like it better this way," he whispered, his throat suddenly dry.

"Me too." The words were barely there, as if she was afraid to make them real, and yet she slowly slid her hands up and placed them on the sides of his neck. Fiyero could feel them shaking. He couldn't decide if they were cold or warm; every nerve stood on end wherever she touched.

The dance became a simple swaying back and forth; careful steps and slow turns carried them in their own circle while the rest of the world disappeared.

But what about Galinda? This isn't right. I can't—I should—

But he could hardly remember what Galinda looked like. All his eyes wanted was to fix on the girl in front of him, to trace and savor every detail under the glow of the dim, swirling lights. He could feel himself drawing closer to her; he tried to stop, but he couldn't convince himself that he really wanted to. And she was trembling, but she wasn't drawing away; she slid her hands higher, letting her fingertips brush his jaw, her eyes darting between his eyes and his lips. She ran her teeth along her own; it was probably a nervous habit, but Fiyero was aching to capture them right then, to feel them—

And then the song stopped.

The other pairs slowly broke apart and drifted off the floor. The spell was broken; she pulled away as if he had shocked her.

"Thanks," she said hurriedly, not meeting his eyes, and all but ran back to her seat.

Fiyero still felt dazed. "My pleasure."