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'Can't you cheer up a little Sam?'
'You don't want to go to this any more than I do,' mumbled Shaw, shrugging off her lab coat and tossing it over a nearby chair. Fred watched, tugging at her top slightly as she finished making herself at least nicely presentable for the party upstairs. Shaw had not done the same, pulling her low ponytail tighter against her head before raising her eyes to meet Fred's expectant own.
'What?'
'Nothing.'
Shaw huffed, standing up ever so slightly straighter in that way she did; Fred thought it was a cute attempt at drawing herself up to her full- still small- height, but was wise enough to keep that observation to herself.
'You ready?'
'Yes,' replied Shaw, curtly: sulking. Fred smiled, taking a step closer, weaving her arm with Shaw's as she began to walk towards the door. Shaw shook the woman off, earning a giggle as she scowled at nothing in particular.
'I'm not really a fan of parties,' began Fred lightly, picking at the cake on the table before her.
Shaw had no sympathy in between grabbing a fistful of cocktail sausages and feeling plenty sorry for herself dragged to this event, coerced by Fred who was now moaning at even attending. Which, now that she thought about it, did seem strange; Fred hadn't wanted to go at 8am this morning and Shaw was more than happy to stay in the lab with her, so why-
'I never know what to do with myself.'
Shaw grunted what might have been a response through a mouth of sausage. Fred was paying no attention to the dubious manners of her associate however, lost in her own attack of the icing on a small cupcake. 'I just end up at the hors d'oeuvres table, trying to look occupied.'
'Eating is occupied,' asserted Shaw with no small amount of venom. Woe betide any soul talking to her this night. Fred envied her general unapproachable nature, praying for a quiet evening in which she would be left alone by the hors d'oeuvres in peace.
'Hey there Wallflowers!' Shaw scowled at the approaching voice as Fred fell under the grip of an exuberant Lorne, life of the party, his arm draped across her shoulders. Shaw dodged the huddle, leaving Lorne to shoot her a look of disapproval.
'Wallflowers?' asked Fred.
'I need you to give me a hand, help light the fuse on this powder keg? Look at the dance floor. The only thing on it is Harmony.' Fred risked a glance over her shoulder as Lorne shouted encouragement to the lone vamp. 'Hey, you keep pushing that envelope, baby!'
'This really isn't out element Lorne,' tried Fred, somewhat placatingly.
'It isn't.' Shaw was much less forgiving. 'We don't want to be here.'
Fred shot her a look but it lacked any real reprimand. She was, after all, right. Lorne looked between the two of them with something akin to panic.
'Oh, no, no, no. Sweetie. You're the young, the beautiful, the- well, here's one problem. You're totally sober!'
'Got one thing right,' muttered Shaw, low enough not to be heard.
'It's Halloween. You should be 3 sheets to the wind already. Now, try and get into the spirit of things, OK?'
Fred furrowed her brows in questioning despair. Lorne nodded. 'Okay then. Have fun sweet cheeks!'
It sounded less of an encouragement, and more of a demand.
'No really: for 8 years straight.'
'8 years huh?'
Fred nodded with zeal. '8 years straight I went out dressed as Raggedy Ann.'
'Lame.'
Fred pouted. 'I was cute.'
Shaw huffed without commitment as the duo weaved their way through the crowd. Fred swayed slightly, and while they weren't precisely linked at the arm they were damn near inseparable, Shaw's personal mission to ensure Fred did not fall over or damage her person in any way, protectively hovering in her own drunken state.
'Watch your step guys, someone peed over there,' called Harmony in brief warning.
'Well that's just...that's just wrong.'
'Gross.'
'Hey!' called Fred, 'you want a piece of me buddy?'
'Fred-' warned Shaw, low in her ear, but was ignored.
'That's right keep walking! You walk alone! You walk alone!' Shaw tugged at Fred's arm, hastily pulling her away from the highly dangerous demon life-form.
'I am not getting into a fight for you,' hissed Shaw. She brought them out of the main crowd and back to the fringes of the party, Fred soon leaning most of her weight against the woman.
'I don't need you to fight for me,' pouted Fred, doubling the look with an attempt to look menacing. Shaw studied the expression, offering no clues to her thoughts that Fred looked less menacing and more...squishable? Hugable? Cute?
Definitely not cute.
How drunk was she?
Too drunk.
'Stop looking at me like that.'
Shaw blinked.
'Like what?'
'You look weird. Makes me feel weird.'
'Looking at you makes you feel weird?' repeated Shaw, unconvinced and confused. Fred nodded.
'Yup.'
'What did I say lovebirds?' The unmistakable sing-song voice of Lorne floated over to their location as he came between the two.
'Lovebirds?' Shaw's question itched with anger, tempered only by the intense inebriation she seemed to be unexplainably feeling considering, as far as she could remember-not that she could remember much being three sheets to the wind- she had drunk next to nothing this evening.
'Hey Lorne,' greeted Fred distractedly, brow furrowed at Shaw.
'Don't let me distract you two,' he waved off with command, 'but can you flirt it out and get a room?'
'Flirt it out?' repeated Shaw with a snarl. Lorne raised his hands as a sign of peace.
'Whoa there. Fredikins, would you mind restraining your hound of hell for me?'
Shaw frowned, irritation bubbling. 'I will make green pea soup out of your entrails if you don't-'
'Sam,' began Fred, hand now gripping Shaw's bicep. Shaw relaxed under her touch but whipped her head around in an apparent fury.
'What?'
'You can't kill him at a party.' Shaw blinked; Fred continued, unaware of Shaw's momentary surprise. 'You should wait until after.'
'Uh, Fred?' questioned Lorne.
Fred, so sure in her drunken logic, ignored him. Shaw nodded curtly, apparently satisfied.
Lorne looked between them. 'Right. Well. I'll leave you to it then!'
Fred turned to look at him, grinning widely as she finally seemed to notice him. 'Lorne! What are you doing here? Did you want us to dance? I don't dance, sorry Lorne I'm not going to dance. Nope.' Fred was shaking her head like a child, miserable at the very thought of setting foot on that dance floor.
'No no you enjoy yourselves just...keep the body count to a minimum? And away from me.'
Fred tugged at the hair tie binding Shaw's locks, pulling it and watching Shaw's deceptively long hair cascade free.
'There.' Fred took a slight step back, surveying her handiwork.
'Give it back,' demanded Shaw, though without menace.
'You look nice.'
'I look nice anyway,' shot back Shaw, hand reaching for the hair tie as Fred kept it out of reach.
'I know that, but you also look nice with your hair down.'
Shaw ignored the compliment, or perhaps didn't hear it, too focussed on regaining possession of her hair tie.
'Fred. Stop.'
'Only if you promise not to put your hair back up.'
'The whole point,' hissed Shaw, 'of the item, is to tie up my hair.'
Fred pouted. If Shaw's anger faltered a moment, she ignored it.
'Sam, stop being childish.'
'You're holding my hair tie out of reach!'
Fred looked down at the shorter woman, utterly sure of her moral superiority in this situation. 'You can have it back when you've shown I can trust you with it.'
'I am not 5 years old,' growled Shaw as she stopped grasping for the band of elastic and took a step back. Fred raised an eyebrow. 'I will end you.'
'No murdering at parties Sam we've been over this.'
Shaw scowled but said nothing, running her hand through her hair and sighing. 'Fine.' She was better than this. She was above this. She didn't need her hair tie anyway. Fred was just being stupid. Stupid and drunk. How drunk were they anyway? How much had they drunk? The party raged on around them but the two paid no attention to it, absorbed in each other.
Shaw frowned to herself. She was always alert, Fred's mind always wandered. Okay so they had a lot of prolonged eye contact- unusual for Shaw, probably unusual for Fred- and Shaw paid an unusual degree of singular attention to the physicist, but that was out of respect only: Fred was her superior after all, and a very good scientist. All of this never detracted from their constant observation of their surroundings. But Shaw couldn't even tell you what happened during the suspiciously ritualistic camel sacrifice; or when it happened, more worryingly.
'Fred.'
'Hm?'
'How much have we been drinking?'
Fred frowned in thought. 'Well I've had...I've had....nothing? Nothing.'
'Nothing.'
Fred nodded. 'I'm a total lightweight. But you know that. I know that. I've had nothing. I can't hold my drink.'
'You can't hold nothing,' pointed out Shaw.
'Yeah.' Fred paused. 'How much have you had?'
'Nothing.'
'Nothing?'
'Nothing.'
'But you're...'
'Not a lightweight.'
'I was going to say drunk. But that too.'
'How are we drunk?'
'I don't know.' Fred scanned the room, eyes resting on Gunn. 'Let's go ask Gunn. He'll know.'
Shaw, at this point in time and through a highly alcoholic haze she would later hasten to add, thought this was one of the wisest things Fred had ever said. And Fred was a very wise woman. A trait Shaw highly admired. So she followed the woman through the crowd of guest to Gunn, stood close to a plant.
'Gunn. Gunn. Gunn,' began Fred, tugging at his arm. 'Is something weird going on?'
Gunn turned to face the two. Shaw looked down.
'I'm going to kill him.'
Gunn followed her line of sight.
'Shaw I'm-Shaw I'm sorry I don't-'
'Fred. I'm going to kill him.'
'But Sam: it's a party and-'
'He peed on my shoes Fred.'
'He did?' Fred looked down. 'Huh. Something weird's going on.'
'Hey is this party great or what?'
The trio turned to look at the newly arrived- and cheerful- Spike.
'Okay. Something's definitely wrong with this picture.'
'I'm going to kill him.'
'Who, Lorne?'
'Spike,' growled Shaw. The two were scouring the Sleep Lab for signs of Lorne's sleep: Shaw trawling the shelves as Fred looked for instructions on how to put it back.
'Technically, it was Lorne's fault,' supplied Fred helpfully, more than happy to encourage Shaw in her murdering. She found it rather adorable when Shaw riled herself up. Not that she would say that to her face. Ever.
'Here.' Fred looked over to Shaw, bent down before one the cabinets as she reached in for the correct canister, standing up and presenting the silver trophy to Fred who took it with a smile.
'Right. The instructions say there should be some kind of gun. Or something.'
'A gun?'
Fred tensed at Shaw's close proximity over her shoulder, wondering if it was the (imaginary) alcohol or her slight adoration- was adoration the right word? It was for now-towards the woman that caused what she knew scientifically was a reaction of attraction.
'A gun.'
'This gun?' Fred glanced over, noticing the sliver gun in Shaw's hand that she had picked up from the table next to Fred. Fred grinned, Shaw raising an eyebrow at her missing the obvious.
'That gun.'
'I'm shooting it,' threw out Shaw possessively. Fred wasn't about to disagree.
'So now that he's...exploded into glitter,' began Shaw, looking dismissively at the remains of the sleep demon-thing, 'can we all go back to normal?'
Fred looked around her, marvelling at the somehow increased exuberance of the party. 'Well I don't feel drunk anymore and have full motor control so I would assume so.' Both women looked across at Spike, once again scowling in anger at the disco lights and appalling song choice, and Fred knew they had both reached the same conclusion: things were back to normal.
Fred turned to look at Shaw, locking eyes with her.
'Can we go now?' asked Shaw, more than a hint of exasperation entering her voice.
Fred smiled lightly. 'You never had to come Shaw- at least not because of me.' Fred toyed with her next words a little, before deciding the evening wouldn't let them go. 'You were kind of hot firing the sleep gun though,' she teased, not without a little affection.
Shaw blinked, brow furrowed ever so slightly. 'I thought you said we were back to normal?'
Fred laughed.
'I am.'
Shaw held her gaze for just a beat, scowling. 'I'm going home.'
Fred nodded. 'See you tomorrow then Sam?'
It came out like a question, a conscious fear that Shaw had no reason to return to Wolfram and Hart each day. She was free, technically speaking, to do as she wished, now a solid, corporeal human.
Shaw nodded curtly, offering no more assurance- refusing to dwell on her own need to give assurance to the woman in front of her- before stalking off and disappearing into the throng of the party. Fred watched her go, tearing her eyes away and searching for the nearest drinks table.
She made her way over, grabbing the nearest open beer and chugging the first quarter of it.