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By Rach

DISCLAIMER: Because I'm obviously jolly well English, pip pip, I jolly well don't have any claim to these people, because they're jolly well Joss's. Pip pip.
DISTRIBUTION: The usual haunts!
SUMMARY: Wes decides its time he decorated ...
TIMELINE: This stuff is all pre-Connor, and as Billy doesn't get a mention I'm putting it pre-Billy. But it doesn't really spoil anything anywhere.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Massive, massive thanks, hugs, and chocolate for Regina for prodding me on until I got this finished!
FEEDBACK is something I thrive on!

***
Wesley snapped shut the book he'd been reading as he glanced at his watch. Things were slow. Cordelia hadn't had a vision for weeks, and they hadn't had any walk-in clients either. He'd read every book he owned at least twice, and now he needed a change.

He stood up, and walked out into the lobby where the others were sprawled about. Fred sat cross legged on the floor, reading a book of her own, Gunn sitting in a similar style on the couch, playing with his gameboy. Cordelia sat at her desk, fast asleep, and Angel was nowhere to be seen.

"Can you manage without me for a couple of days or so?"

Gunn looked surprised, as if he hadn't heard anyone speak for weeks. "Sure. Why?"

"I've decided I - if not all of us - need a break. My apartment has always been more of a place to sleep than a home, so I figured I'll redecorate. Of course, you're all more than welcome to help me..."

Cordelia snorted in her sleep, and Gunn shook his head. "Sorry, man, but no can do, I've got to ... uh ..."

"I'll help!" Fred chimed in, standing up and leaving her book on the floor. "I love decorating!"

"What, are you crazy?" Gunn looked amazed. "It's one of the dullest things there is!"

"Depends on the company," Fred smiled. "Alone, boring, sure. But Wes and I have plenty to talk about." She turned back to Wesley. "It'll be a hoot. You wanna start tonight, or is tomorrow good for you?"

Wesley grinned at her. "Well, if you're that keen, we could go out and get some paint tonight and start work first thing in the morning?"

"Sure!"

"You can stay in my guest room while we're working, if you'd like, to save you travelling every day. Gunn? You know how to get in contact with us if you need to?"

"Yeah, yeah. House phone, cell phone, pager. We all know the drill."

"Good! Then Fred, shall we go?" She nodded, grabbing her coat from the stand by the door on the way out.

****
Wesley pulled up outside the store, and they stepped out.

"So, you got any idea on the colours?"

"Not really. I was looking for something homely, warm - something nice to come home to."

"How about yellow?"

"Yellow? Isn't it a bit ... girly?"

"No, not at all! There are so many different shades. Perhaps you could go for one that's close to orange, that would be warm, and not too girly." She grinned. "Glad you brought me along?"

"Definitely! I would probably have gone for blue, otherwise."

"Oh, you mustn't have blue. Blue is a bad colour for walls, it always either looks cold, or makes the room look too dark. Not good if you want something to welcome you home."

Wesley looked impressed. "Are you sure you weren't an interior decorator, not a physicist?"

"I'm sure! Although I did consider something like it - I love colours."

After two hours of shopping, and Wes giving in to pretty much every single one of Fred's demands, they left the shop. They were both laden with bags containing God knows what - Fred had made them all seem so necessary at the time.

"Fred, remind me again what I've just bought?"

"Well, we got some paper to put on your walls, because remember, I've *seen* your walls, and they are so dirty. We need to paper them with backing paper to make them paintable on. So naturally you need a brush for the paste, some paste, an brush to get rid of the bubbles, I wanted to you buy a table but you kinda drew the line there, seeing as I was spending your money, and then-"

"Fred, you know what? Why don't we just get all this stuff in the car, and then we can sort it out when we get back."

"Good idea. Cuz you'll only forget again." She grinned, cheekily.

"I will not ... okay I might. Decorating isn't really my strong point."

****
Forty minutes later, Wesley and Fred sat on the floor in Wes's front room, surrounded by rolls of this and tins of that.

"And this is all just for one room?"

"Yup, but if we work real fast I bet we'd have time to get some more stuff and finish the rest of your place." Wes groaned, and Fred laughed. "Don't worry, I'm just kidding. This will take us long enough." She yawned. "In fact, I'm kinda tired now, after all that shopping. How about I go get some sleep so we're ready for work in the morning?" She stood up, and headed towards the bathroom.

"Yes, I think I'll join you." Fred's head snapped round and Wesley blushed. "I mean, join you in the sense of going to bed, not in the sense of joining you ... in ... bed ..." he trailed off.

"It's okay, Wes, I know what you mean," she laughed, softly.

"Oh good," he sighed, letting out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. "You know where everything is?"

"Yep, I'll be fine. G'nite!" Fred headed into the guest bedroom, and Wesley's face returned to its natural colour. "What was that all about, you gibbering fool?" he muttered.

"Uh, Wes?" Oh hell, she was still there. He turned around, aware of the heat that was rushing back to his cheeks.

"Yes Fred?"

"I ... uh ... I just realised, I didn't bring anything to sleep in ... do you have, umm, a shirt, or something, I could borrow?"

"Of course. Just wait here, I'll go find you something." He ducked into his own room, and opened the window, before searching through his drawers for something that would fit Fred. He didn't know why he was having such trouble - he didn't usually have a problem being around Fred. Granted, the others were usually there as well, but still, it didn't usually bother him. He pulled out a thin blue shirt that he figured would probably reach down to Fred's knees, and took it out to her.

"Here you go. I hope it fits."

"I'm sure it'll be fine. Thanks, Wes. Night!"

"Night!" As soon as Fred was out of site, Wesley headed into the bathroom, quickly cleaned his teeth, and went back into his room. Silently thanking whatever had made him decided to put his bed beside the window, he slipped off his trousers and climbed into bed, self-conscious about undressing while Fred was in the apartment. The cool night air floated through his window, and he was asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.

****
Wesley woke up as something started to beep incessantly next to his ear. "What the bloody hell is that?" he mumbled, before rubbing his eyes, and realising it was his alarm clock. Hitting the snooze button, he groaned, and turned over, pulling his pillow over his head. Suddenly he remembered why his alarm had been set so early, and jumped up. Flicking the off switch, he grabbed the pair of painting jeans he'd left out for himself, and ran for the bathroom before Fred woke up. Once he was dressed, he peeked his head around the door of her room, smiling as he saw she was still fast asleep, and evidently having an enjoyable dream. Closing it as quietly as he could, he padded back towards the kitchen and filled the kettle, making himself a cup of coffee.

He retrieved his mail and the newspaper from the floor behind the front door, and settled down to read a lengthy letter from his cousin. After a while he heard Fred head into the bathroom, and he stood up.

"Fred, would you like some coffee?" he called.

"Yes, please. Oh, and Wes?" She emerged from the bathroom still wearing only his shirt, and he felt the now-familiar tingle of blood rushing to his cheeks.

"Yes?" he squeaked.

"Uh, I hate to ask this, but I didn't bring any clothes I can paint in ... I mean, there's the ones I wore yesterday, but I just got those last week, and -"

"It's fine, I'll find you something." He dashed back into his bedroom and took a deep breath. "Come on Wes. This is no big deal," he muttered, turning towards a big bag in the corner. One day last week Cordelia had sent him home with a bag of clothes she didn't want anymore, that he'd offered to take them over to the shelter. There should be something in there that would fit Fred. Eventually finding a pair of jeans that looked around her size - although he wasn't exactly an expert on the subject - he rummaged in the same drawer as he'd found the shirt the night before.

"Will these -" he yelled, turning around to realise Fred was standing in the doorway "-do."

"Why Wesley, I didn't realise you were into that kind of thing!" Fred laughed, nodding at the heap of Cordelia's clothes that were now scattered over the floor. "I'm sure I have some old stuff you could have ..." she trailed off, giggling.

"Yes, ha ha, very funny. Do you want these or not?" Wes smirked.

"Well, I could decorate in this, but whatever would your neighbours think?"

Suddenly embarrassed again, he thrust them towards her. "They should fit," he mumbled.

Fred looked concerned, taking the clothes from him. "Thanks." She returned minutes later, dressed in what he'd given her, and her hair pulled back in a tight bunch, to find Wes still sitting on his bedroom floor.

"Are you okay?" She bent down so she was level with him.

"What? Oh, you're ready? Okay, shall we get started?" He stood up, and walked out of the room, feeling even worse for being sharp with her. He turned back and smiled. "I'm fine. So, what's first?"

"The paper. You need to find the packet with the instructions for the paste and mix it up like it says. I'll start to measure the paper while you do that."

Working together, they managed to paper the dirtiest wall by lunchtime. Fred ordered Wesley to fetch a bucket of water, and she took the new cloth she'd bought out of its packaging, washing down the other three walls.

"I think these will be okay, they just might need an extra coat of paint. We needn't paper them, it would take too long."

"Oh, thank God. My arm is starting to ache from all the brushing and holding and sticking and brushing."

"Wimp!"

"I am not a wimp!"

"I papered my room in Texas all by myself when I was seventeen."

"Then you've done it before! You should have done it this time!"

"But then how would you learn?" She grinned at him, walking past the bucket and dipping her finger into the paste. "Shall we have a break? I think we've earned it," she grinned again, punctuating her statement by sticking a blob of paste on his nose.

"I think we have - and you know that if this stuff wasn't so bloody disgusting you'd have a fight on your hands right about now, don't you?" He laughed, wiping the goo away.

She laughed back at him. "So, what've you got that a girl can eat?" Opening a few cupboards, she scanned their contents. "Okay, when we're done here, you need to go shopping. For now, we'll have to make do with tea and cookies."

"Yes ma'am!"

While Wesley made the tea, Fred hunted through the shelves, checking packets here and there, and throwing out everything that was out of date. Glancing at the shelves in front of her, she selected the least dust-covered packet of cookies. "You really aren't here all that often, huh?"

"Not really, no. But if we can get this place looking a bit less like a dumping ground and more like a home, I'm hoping that might change. So, what's next?"

"Before or after I teach you the value of an expiration date?"

"Oh before, definitely," he smiled.

"Carpets. Are you wanting new ones, or are you just gonna clean the old ones real good?"

"What would you recommend?"

"Well, the room we're doing at the moment has a deep red carpet -"

"Surprisingly enough, Fred, I had noticed that," he smirked.

Ignoring him, she continued. "- and that has a lot of pluses. It shouldn't be too hard to clean, seeing as its so dark, also, red goes well with the orange walls. I think it would be easier, cheaper, and faster to just stick with the ones you already have. In which case, we're gonna need as many old sheets as you can find. We need to completely cover up the carpet to-"

"Stop the drips getting on it. I'm not *completely* incompetent!"

"Right," Fred blushed. "So, we drink our tea, you get those, and I'll get to splitting the paint. It'll go faster if we work separately."

"While that sounds like a good idea, I can see one tiny flaw."

"What's that?"

"I only have one pair of ladders."

"That's not a flaw, it just means one of us will have to work low down, and one high up."

"Won't there be marks where one section has dried before they other bit has been painted?"

"Nothing that can't be fixed afterwards." Fred drained the last drop from her mug, and stood up. "Ready to get back to work?"

"Definitely!"

"Not too stiff, wimp?" She grinned, and ducked as he tried to swat her with the tea towel in his hand.

"I am *not* a wimp!"

"Oh yeah? Prove it!"

"Fine then, I will." He thought about it for a second as Fred started to prise open the tin of paint. "Uh, Fred? How?"

"How what?"

"How shall I prove it?"

"Oh, right. Well, okay, I bet you ... well, I don't know what I bet, but we can work out winnings later. I bet that you can't finish this wall all by yourself by the end of the day." She gestured to one of the walls they hadn't papered, deliberately choosing the largest one.

"You're on."

Quickly spreading the sheets across the floor, Wesley grabbed a brush and climbed the ladder, getting started straight away. Fred smiled, watching him as he worked. She popped the lid off another tin, this one a brighter shade than the deep orange Wes was painting with. She'd decided it would look good if they used two colours. Very arty. She dipped her brush into the tin, turning to a fresh wall. A split second before the brush connected with the wall, she had a better idea.

"Wesley?"

"Mm-hmm?" He continued concentrating on the wall, until he felt something sticky and cold splash against his back. He turned around to see Fred standing with an evil grin on her face, her brush held in a position ready to splat him again.

"Fred! Yuck! And there's a big blob on my neck that's about to run down my back!" he stepped down the ladder as quickly as he could and stood with his back to her. "Catch it, quick!" She lifted her hand to wipe the blob, sensing his discomfort. The second her skin connected with his own, he spun around, painting thick orange stripe across her middle. He broke out into a grin.

"Didn't think I was going to let you win, did you?"

"Oh, this is just the beginning, believe me!" She dipped her brush back in the tin, and flung some more at Wesley. He responded in the same way with paint from his own tin, managing to get a row of drips right across her cheek.

"War, I believe is the term?" he laughed.

She smirked back. "You believe right, mister!" Within seconds paint was flying across the room, splattering on walls, the windows, and each other. Fred grabbed her tin of paint and scooped as much paint onto the brush as she could manage, slinging the butter-coloured goo at him, giggling away. Wesley turned so most of the gunk from Fred's latest attack splattered down his back, and jumped across the room to where the ladders stood with his own paint tin on the top. Miscalculating his jump, he slammed into them, causing both him and the steps to loose their balance.

"Wesley!" Fred yelled, stepping over Wesley to catch the ladder, dropping her tin of paint in the process. She steadied them, and turned back to Wesley, who was now laid flat on the floor. She surveyed the carnage around them.

"I think we're gonna need some more paint."

Wesley sat up and grabbed her legs, and she fell to the floor beside him with a squeal. "I don't know," he replied, still breathless from the fight. "Perhaps it could be some new kind of art. I'll call it 'the splattered look.'" He grinned. "I think I've lost the bet, though." She laughed. "I think we can waive it this time, seeing as it's mostly my fault we're in this mess." She turned on her side and propped her head up with her hand. She reached her other hand up to his face.

"You have some paint..." she trailed off as she licked her finger and rubbed at his cheek.

He snorted. "And that's different to anywhere *else* on either of us!" He quietened as the movement of her hand across his cheek became slower, and gentler. She sat up and moved closer to him, moving both her hands round the back of his neck. He hesitated, unsure what she wanted, so she made the move for him. She leaned forward, connecting her soft lips with his. It was all the encouragement he needed, and he kissed her back warmly. Not letting go, she moved so that she sat in his lap, and got completely lost in the moment. When the kiss eventually ended, she pulled back and grinned at him.

"You have *no* idea how long I've been wanting to do that."

He laughed. "Well, if it's anywhere near as long as *I've* been wanting to, I think we both deserve another for waiting so long."

Obliging, Fred wriggled herself so that they were both more comfortable, and felt a shiver run up her spine as his hands tangled in her hair.

"So, this is how they decorate in England, then?" Wesley and Fred flew apart as Cordelia's voice rung out, and they spotted Gunn standing behind her with a smirk on his face. Blushing like crazy, Fred glanced back at Wesley, and caught his perplexed expression mirroring her own. Cordelia sighed, and held something up. "Key? The one you gave me? Remember? They open doors -"

"Yes, Cordelia, I'm well aware I gave you a key to my apartment, what I'm wondering is why you felt the need to *use* it right now, and why on earth are you dressed like something from a bad eighties film?"

"I am not!" She cried, indignantly. She looked down at herself. "Okay, maybe I am a little. We were bored out of our minds, so we figured we'd come help you out." She snickered. "Looks like you're doing pretty well by yourselves, though."

"You couldn't knock?"

"We did. Several times. Although now I understand why you didn't hear..."

"Alright! Are you here to help or not?"

Gunn glanced around the room. "Looks like you two need all the help you can get. Don't mind me saying so, but this joint looks worse than it did before."

Fred looked over and Wesley. "Well, we got a little ... uh ... distracted."

"So we see."



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