Prompt: Wallpaper; ABC FanFic Challenge
Word Count: 900
Pairing: Meredith/Derek
Spoilers: The one who didn't die in the finale? Mentioned here.
"It's beige."
Derek frowns. "It's not beige."
"It is so beige!" Meredith rolls her eyes. "It's freakin' beige, Derek."
"It's 'fawn'."
"You're an idiot." She grabs the paint chip from his hand and turns it over. "Look. This one's called 'tan'."
"So?"
"So, they look the same." Meredith looks from one paint sample to the other.
Derek furrows his brow. "But if they were the same, they'd have the same names."
"Please." Meredith snorts. "Paint namers have the easiest jobs in the world."
"Actually, I'm pretty sure the easiest job in the world is…"
"Yeah?" she taunts. "Well?"
"Shut up!" he whines, turning back to the wall. "You're mean."
"And you're pouting."
"I am not. I'm—"
"Pouting. Or sulking." She grins. "Take your pick."
"I pick tan!"
"No, Derek," Meredith says patiently. "You're barracking for fawn."
"I can want both."
"You can't have both." Meredith laughs. "We only have one living room."
Derek opens his mouth but she cuts him off. "And don't even suggest having them different colors. I may not be as picky as Addison but I'd like my living room to be only one color."
"Well, then, fawn."
"Derek." Meredith sighs. "We're not having our living room painted after a woodland creature."
"You should have told me that before you told me to pick fawn."
"I did not tell you to pick fawn!"
"What?"
"I told you that you wanted fawn."
"Whatever."
"I'm not naming my living room after a deer, Derek."
"They're hardly going to know about it," he tells her, trying half-heartedly not to laugh.
"We'll know about it!" She slaps him. "Stop laughing! I can hardly be Dr. Grey-Shepherd, neurosurgeon extraordinaire, with a living room named after a glorified rabbit!" she snaps.
"First of all, Mer," Derek tells her, brushing the hair out of her eyes and kissing her until she stops frowning, "nobody will know the name of the paint. I doubt the paint people even know the name of the paint."
"They have to," she points out, "or how will they make it?"
"And second," he ignores her, "your objections should be based on the color itself and not the name on a piece of cardboard." He pauses. "Third, fawns are nothing like rabbits."
"Whatever." She sighs. "Just pick one."
"Well, beige."
"There's not actually one called beige, Derek."
"Then tan."
"You wanted fawn!"
"You said they're the same thing!"
"Well, they can't be the exact same, or they wouldn't waste a paint chip, would they?" she huffs back.
"So, tan is beige," he revises.
"Beige is beige," she corrects him.
"Yeah, but tan is also beige. They're synonyms."
"They're different colors." Seriously, this is a complete joke. Meredith rolls her eyes. "I should get Izzie in here. She'd tell me what to do."
"Yeah," he agrees. "She'd get you to have pink, or rose—"
"It's not going to be named after her!" Meredith interjects.
"I promise you, Izzie will not care. She'll have painters and carpenters and people delivering couches and arm chairs. She'll get an interior decorator to 'analyze the space' and she'll get them to put up a swatch and then she'll keep you here for hours making you stare at a wall."
Meredith freezes. "Crap."
"But," he continues with a grin, "I'd be happy to call her for you. If you want. Seeing as I'm so unhelpful and all."
She smacks him and the smirk drops off his face. "What was that for?!"
"Don't. You. Even." She glares at him and pokes his arm. "Don't you even tell her anything. Tell her it's handled. Tell her the paint's been chosen."
"And when she wants to know the color scheme so she doesn't clash with the décor at the housewarming party?"
Meredith stares at him. "What?"
"Housewarming party."
"I heard you."
"Izzie's going to throw a housewarming party," he says, "and she'll demand the color scheme."
"Tell her it's a surprise. And that our house is warm enough already."
"She'll never buy it."
Meredith heaves a sigh. "I know."
They sit on the stairs and stare at the living room wall. The window reveals sun slipping into the horizon.
Derek kisses her neck. "This is romantic."
"You're so sappy."
He shrugs. "Still true." He leans in and ducks to kiss her.
"Derek!" Meredith pulls back from his embrace.
He stops nipping at her throat and gazes at her balefully. "What?"
"Stop kissing me." She studiously frowns at the wall. "I'm concentrating."
"Then stop," he suggests.
She rolls her eyes. "Nothing's going to happen if we don't decide."
"Sex will happen. And it's not like it's surgery, or anything. Paint'll still be there when we're done. And all this aesthetic appreciation reminds me that you're so beautiful," he tells her huskily, mouth on that spot behind her ear.
"God, Derek," she breathes.
"Shall we christen the stairs?"
The next morning Cristina flops onto the bench next to Meredith. "So you and McDreamy?"
"Yeah?"
"Decorating?"
"Yeah."
Cristina's grinning expectantly. "How goes your futile attempt at domesticity?"
"We were thinking wallpaper for a while but… patterns. Lots of patterns. So then we went back to paint." Meredith glances at Cristina. "Don't look at me like that!"
"It's you. You and McDreamy. Decorating." Cristina smirks. "Blood will be shed."
"Actually," Meredith tells her, "it's going pretty well."
"How so?"
Meredith shrugs. "He wants one color, I say no, and then we have sex."
"Huh." Cristina pauses. "Good deal."
