E-MAIL: medealives@hotmail.com
RATING: PG-13
PAIRING: Willow/Angel
SUMMARY: Willow and Angel do a little painting...Sillyfic.
ARCHIVE: If you want it, be my guest.
DISCLAIMER: Joss and Mutant Enemy are the true owners, I'm just goofing off. Note: does NOT take place in the Masters & Minions universe.
SPOILER WARNING: This does make a few references to tidbits I've seen about S6 in various Spoilers.
FEEDBACK: No need -- this is just a little treat for a very special lady.
DEDICATION: To Nat, for all her work on the Forbidden Love Awards. Folks, unlike Joss, this woman makes NO MONEY for her dedicated efforts, so at the very least, give her your heartiest applause. Yay Nat!
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Thanks for coming, Willow. I wasn't sure what to make of this, and everyone else was stumped."
Willow smiled sympathetically at the perplexed vampire as he ushered her through the Hyperion's lobby and up the grand staircase.
"So, you think this has to do with some kind of portal, like the one Wesley opened to Pylea?" the redheaded witch pressed him for details.
"I don't know what else could explain it. This is something so bizarre that it can't be of this world."
Angel escorted Willow down the hallway, past a row of doors which each led to empty rooms. Well, at least, they *usually* did. However, a strange, disturbing, supernatural force had set up shop in one of the rooms at the end of the hall.
Although Willow's eyes widened in surprise when Angel opened the door to the eerily possessed room, she maintained her composure. Living on the Hellmouth had exposed her to far stranger sights.
The creature inside *looked* human enough.
It appeared to be a thirtysomething-ish man...writing the same phrase, over and over again, all over the walls.
With nothing more than a tiny bottle of red nail polish.
Well, poltergeists amused themselves however they saw fit.
Willow blinked. How had he managed to write "All work and no play makes Joss a dull boy" two-hundred times with just that one bottle of nail polish?
She looked at Angel. He flashed her an awkward, sheepish grin. Willow had to suppress a giggle -- how could a menacing vampire look like such an adorable doofus when he smiled like that?
Suddenly, the odd man with the nail polish spun around and looked maniacally at them.
"If you were desperately fighting to stop an Apocalypse, you'd take time out to sing and dance, wouldn't you?"
"Uhh..." Willow blanked.
"I...don't sing..." Angel stammered.
"But how am I going to pull this one off?" the man rambled on as if he hadn't heard them. "I mean, the name Sunnydale doesn't exactly roll off your tongue. Why couldn't I have set the series in Gary, Indiana?" Suddenly, he began singing slightly off-key, "Gary, Indiana...Gary, Indiana...Gary, Indiana...let me say it once again..." He paused and frowned. "No, it just doesn't work with Sunnydale..."
Lost in his own, bizarre world, the man went back to writing "All work and no play makes Joss a dull boy" on the wall.
Willow had an epiphany. Certainly nothing as intense or sexualized as Angel's epiphany from several months ago, but still meaningful nonetheless.
"Angel, I think I know what this is. I remember coming across a description of an entity like this in one of Giles's volumes on demonology."
Relieved, Angel guided her back out to the hallway where they could speak without the risk of being overheard. "Please tell me this won't call for some kind of flashy, destructive, Ghostbusters-style extermination. Contrary to what a lot of people think, I'm *not* made out of money, and I'm still paying off the damages to Lorne's karaoke bar."
"No, I don't think it will cost much. Well, except for a few cans of paint. But that should do it," Willow assured him with her usual, optimistic smile.
"Paint? Willow, what kind of demon is this?"
"It's a Convenient Plot Device. Actually, they're as common as roaches, once you know how to recognize them. This'll just take a second for me to clear it out."
Stepping back into the room Willow lifted her hands, pointing the fingertips at the curious apparition, and began to chant. Crackling blue forks of energy shot out from her fingers and opened a trans-dimensional portal...
...sending a nasty shock straight through the keyboard and into the typist's hands. BLEEDING HELL, YOU LITTLE WITCH, THAT BLOODY HURT!!!
"Medea, I know you're out there. Will you cut it out, already? Go write something dark and violent," Willow sternly dismissed the pathetic, troublesome demon.
The Convenient Plot Device vanished; only the phrases written in red nail polish remained.
"Come on, Angel. We need to get to the hardware store and buy some paint before it comes back," Willow urged.
*****
Witch and vampire returned shortly after the asterisks, toting several cans of red paint. When they entered the haunted room, Angel did a double-take. Somehow, any items such as paintings, mirrors, or light fixtures had been removed from the walls, and dingy, off-white canvas had been draped over all the furniture and the floor.
Willow, however, strolled in without so much as batting an eyelash and set down her cans of paint.
"Uh...Willow?" Angel asked, warily glancing around the room. "Does anything look a little strange to you?"
"You mean the inadequately explained scene changes?" Willow observed casually. "Those are just residual effects of the Convenient Plot Device. As soon as we finish painting the room, the demon will be fully exorcised and everything will go back to normal."
After prying the lid off of a can of paint, Willow emptied its contents into a pan and coated a roller with the deep red hue. She began applying the paint to the walls in long, slow, powerful strokes...again and again...
...when she reminded herself that this wasn't a sex scene and there certainly wasn't anything erotic about painting. Oh no! Wait, she hadn't thought that!
But, it was too late. Picking up on her careless train of thought, the lingering powers of the Convenient Plot Device left her standing completely naked, paint roller in hand.
Omigosh!
With a dreadful, sinking feeling, she took a peek at Angel.
Yup. One buck-nekkid, extremely attractive vampire. Check.
"Angel, I'm sooooo sorry!" Willow moaned (but not in a sexy way), blushing furiously. "I can't believe I did that. I should have been more caref-- is that a birthmark on your...? Oh, GOD! I'm sorry, I didn't see that! Okay, looking away now..."
The handsome vampire (isn't he always?) chuckled and approached Willow:
a)
with the grace of a panther;
b)
with a devilish gleam in his eyes;
c)
with a paint roller in his hand
Placing his hands on her shoulders, Angel leaned in and whispered against her ear, "Willow, why fight it anymore? Don't you think it's time we did *everything* in our power to exorcise this demon?"
A tremor ran through Willow as she glanced at him uncertainly over her shoulder. "Angel? Are you sure?"
He brought his mouth down to hers and kissed her. Pulling back slightly, he offered her a tender smile and admitted, "I think it's the only way."
Needing no further convincing (I mean, come on -- would you? Let's see a show of hands, folks...), Willow turned and let Angel pull her into an intimate embrace. Their lips met and parted, and their tongues joined together in a primal dance.
Willow wasn't sure, but she thought it might be the Hokey Pokey.
==================================
INSERT GRATUITOUS SEX SCENE HERE. NO, THIS IS NOT A COP-OUT. REALLY -- EROTICA IS SO MUCH BETTER WHEN YOU LEAVE A LITTLE TO THE IMAGINATION. SO, GET OFF YER LAZY ARSE AND START IMAGINING ALREADY!
=================================
"Wow," Willow sighed contentedly as she spooned against Angel's firm, manly chest.
"That was amazing," Angel agreed, pulling Willow closer to him.
She smiled blissfully, enjoying the chance to cuddle with him for a few more minutes. Then, since the author's husband was calling her to the dinner table, Willow sat up, reached for an ice-cream cone, and handed it to Angel.
He wrinkled his brow in confusion. "Willow, isn't it more customary to share a cigarette after sex?"
"It's not for us. It's for Nat," the redhead explained patiently.
"Nat? You mean, the one who put all that time and energy into organizing the Forbidden Love Awards, without even getting paid? The one I was thinking about the entire time I was with Darla before I had my epiphany? The one whose name I almost cried out when I--?"
"Yup, that's the one," Willow interjected hastily. "Go on, feed her some ice cream. It's the only reward she gets for all of her hard work."
A still-very-naked Angel stood self-consciously on the other side of the computer screen, holding the ice-cream cone and waiting. Nothing happened. He turned to Willow.
"It's not working. What am I doing wrong?"
"Well, it might not be you," Willow deduced. "Maybe Nat doesn't want to lean forward and lick the computer screen; she might think it would look really stupid."
Ya
think?!?
THE END
Many, many thanks to Nat for everything she contributes to the Willow-Angel ship!
To
all Comers (Tis -- *no* cheeky remarks about 'Comers'): the challenge is
to give Nat what she wants. Willow and Angel painting a room; a more light-hearted,
joking Angel; and ice cream. Oh, and if you must...sex!