paradisalost | ...it's Thanksgiving

Who:Fred, Harmony and anyone else that decides to come by.
What: Thanksgiving in the Tower
When:All Day Thanksgiving
Where:The Tower
Rating:PG 13

((OOC : This log is open to anyone and everyone that wants to stop by. I will be setting up some initial section, but feel free to add any others as needed. There's lots of places in the tower for people to break away))

Sometime just after two in the morning, a thought pulled Fred into wakefulness. It was Thanksgiving. Somehow in all the activity that came after the expedition, she'd almost let it slip away from her again.

It wasn't like they hadn't tried before, on more than one occasion. They would go out to the store, buy there ingredients and debate over just what they were getting themselves into. But somehow whenever it game down to the actual cooking of things, and getting themselves into the hotel's industrial kitchen? Something always happened. A demon attack or -- it might've been a run of the mill rogue vampire. And Wolfram & Hart?

Was Wolfram & Hart. They'd worked.

For days now she hadn't been able to shake the images of those bodies, clustered together in the auditorium. The natural comparisons to themselves. But suddenly in that moment? She didn't want anything of it.

Had't she said on more than one occasion that nothing was inevitable? Well there inability to have Thanksgiving was going to be made evitable. It just was.

Decision made, Fred scrabled from her bed and went to recruit some help.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Only when it comes to your pies." Somehow that came out sounding faintly suggestive, but hopefully Fred won't hold it against him.

"Can I do anything? Fetch anything? I'm still mindful of what little sleep you've had, you know."

Edited 2011-11-25 03:25 (UTC)

"And look. I can do more than just apple."

There's a wide, feminine grin as she nods to the pumpkin and pecan pies that sit cooling on the counter. Clearly she wasn't offended.

"And that's when after we eat is for. I can sleep then."

There was a confidence in her reply that leveraged more than one Thanksgiving at home in Texas, and the naps that inevitably followed.

"I'm still partial to apple, though," he murmured, stepping closer now that he's divested of his liquid offerings.

"Alright, as long as you do sleep. For at least eight hours. I insist." He smiles down at her and then shifts even closer. "Excuse me, you have some...let me take care of it." He leans in to claim her mouth with a kiss. There isn't really any flour, but he doubts she'll protest at his subterfuge.

The bottles of wine joined the pies on the counter, and when Fred turned back it was to find Wesley noticeably closer than before. Not that she was objecting.

"Eight hours." That was a bit longer than the nap she'd been considering. "And just how are you planning on enforcing that ultimatum?"

Before Fred could argue the matter further, Wesley effectively silenced her mouth with his own. Flour. Her mouth tilted into a smile, altering the texture of the kiss. He smelled fresh and clean, unaltered by all the scents that had long overtaken the kitchen. He'd also managed to find the rare moment when she was alone. She and Harmony had decided to take turns changing out of the pajamas for dinner.

When Wes finally pulled back, he gave her an unapologetic sort of smile. "I had a sneaking suspicion that would be my only window of opportunity considering your open invitation to the hungry masses." His hands remained loosely encircling her waist. "As for making sure that you get a decent amount of sleep, I could insist on staying over and keeping watch. But I will settle for a promise."

"You're one of those hungry masses." She knew full well how he stocked his own kitchen. In the sense that he didn't. "At least I think you are. I wouldn't go protesting too loudly."

Not that she couldn't protest herself, or deny any real need for sleep. But she'd lectured Wesley more than once through his own recovery, and especially on the eve of the expedition. Words ultimately he'd listened to.

Fred supposed she owed him a nap.

"Fine." Even if she couldn't sound entirely convinced. "I promise."

"Oh, I most definitely am. But I also like being the only person in the room with you." He leaned in for a briefer kiss and then reluctantly released her. There would be other times, of course. But sometimes there was no time like the present. "Good. It would pay for you to be well-rested of a morning so we can start up those walks again."

Her mouth compressed into a half smile -- one that was more about capturing something and keeping it close and sharing -- before finally fading into something softer. She didn't move to protest the air that slipped between them.

Wesley's unspoken point? They weren't alone.

Still, Fred's smile flickered then transformed itself into something far wider at the mention of a walk. It took her a moment to remember the last one they'd actually taken. Was it really the day Charles arrived?

She suspected that it was. After that day, things just kept -- doing what things did. Happening.

"Where are we walking to?"

"Anywhere we want to. Perhaps not even make a decision beforehand." She wasn't the only one who could be spontaneous on occasion. "I miss them, though. The walks. Just...they helped a lot. Before."

She would know what he meant by that.

"A rambling walk..." Fred seemed to enjoy the thought in a similar fashion she was soon planning on enjoying dinner. "I miss them too, now that you mention it."

"And I think that can definitely be arranged. Though we'd have to bundle up a bit more than we have before. There has to be at least one or two corners of this place we haven't covered yet."

A glance was her only acknowledgment to Wesley's confession of how they'd helped. It didn't feel like it needed more.

He smiled and nodded, leaning back against a counter. "Bundling up is good. It's actually nice that they have seasons here. Perhaps we'll even have snow again."

"There's always been snow, every year since I've gotten here. I couldn't get enough of it that first Christmas." Her smiled drifted back, remembering.

"Texas likes to think everything is bigger there, but they haven't exactly cornered the market on snowbanks."

"I can imagine." He wasn't exactly familiar with snow himself. In fact he'd wager that he'd seen more in Paradisa than in his previous life. "Aren't there mountains in Texas, though? I would expect some of them are of a high enough altitude to get a few snow drifts during the winter."

"No, some of them definitely do. It's just not anywhere ever went with my folks." Not that she ever begrudged them that. It wasn't for a lack of want. Heck, they'd had a change jar dedicated to their future trip to Hawaii for just about as long as Fred could remember. But the reality of work and bills was never far away.

"Demon dimensions aside, I'm not exactly well traveled."

"Really? Where have you traveled to?" He's curious now, and surprised, actually, that they haven't discussed it before.

Fred tilts her head.

"Well now, let me see. Texas. California." She ticks them off with one hand. "And all the bits in between when you are driving. There was also that school trip in the eighth grade to Washington D.C."

"You've never been out of the country?" It surprises him, even though in some ways it shouldn't.

...it's Thanksgiving

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