A/N: For the prompt by eleusis_walks: 'on Wednesdays we wear pink'.

Opiates of Pink

Fred realises she has some very stereotypical, conceptual representations of the word 'pink'. Whenever someone mentions it to her, her mind instantly conjures up a vast amount of objects commonly related to the colour in question: candy floss, marzipan roses, Barbie. Less tangible stuff too; like the smell of certain types of perfume, maybe, or the taste of sugary cakes and sweets. If she thinks about it for a bit longer than that, she might, randomly, start thinking of albino dolphins or gram-negative bacteria. People usually ask her to stop at this point, though.

On this evening, however, it occurs to her that all her mental symbols have been lacking one very, important addition. As Harmony struts around on the dance floor, an obvious but understated feel of rhythm to her every step, Fred knows that the next time she thinks about the word 'pink', that dress will be at the front of her imagination. It's just so unashamedly pink. Bubbly so, with sparkling palliates strewn across the skirt, catching the lights of the bar every time she does another twirl or throws out her hips. Even her shoes are pink – her nails, her lips, her everything. It's really... thorough.

Sipping her drink, Fred winces slightly at the bitter taste. She hasn't ordered it – Harmony has been very particular about this. "Either I buy or you... get us something that'll be really cute but also, um, kind of useless. Please don't take it the wrong way, Fred," – and she'd smiled very disarmingly at that – "but in this, I'm totally the brainy one." So Harmony has basically been buying all the drinks. This, presently, amounts to about... two for Fred and ten for herself. She sure can hold her liquor, that girl. Oh, and. Vampire metabolism. Obviously.

The music changes to something more vivacious. Fred sighs, setting her glass back on the table with a clink that goes wholly unnoticed amidst the general noise of the bar. It's not a seedy place at all; perhaps she's a bit prejudiced, but she'd expected something else when she'd agreed to let Harmony take her out on a girl's night in town. Just... L.A. certainly has the capacity for seedy and suspicious, doesn't it? Yes it does and that's experience talking, here. And while it doesn't always end up being connected to anything demonic, with Harmony it's only natural to be a least... cautiously expectant, right? She's even held off telling the others about it. She doubts they would cheer her on, the way Harmony did when she accepted her offer earlier today.

"It's Wednesday, Harmony." Fred had spoken with the calm, only slightly hesitant tone of justified-relief-masked-as-regret. "I have work tomorrow. You have work tomorrow."

To which Harmony had replied, very overbearingly, "I know that! I have it all on my time table at home, all my work hours and my free time – especially my free time." And she'd smiled, brightly. "Tonight is coloured pink for 'fun'. So don't play the obvious card with me."

Trying not to let that last part of the sentence spin around in her mind too much, Fred remembers injecting some weak sort of protest, quickly counter-acted by Harmony and Harmony's wit. The latter is, in fact, one of the most persuasively paralysing weapons in the history of everything; at the end of their conversation, Fred had been simultaneously bribed ("I'll buy pretty drinks for you!"), scolded ("You need to start having fun before your ears begin dripping with science or something"), begged ("Please say yes! Just this once!") and guilt-tripped ("You promised me we could go. I know you did, it's just a long time ago because you always say no!") into accepting. At the end of that, Fred had had samples to test and abstracts to write and she'd just... agreed.

Straightening in her chair, dangerously close to a slouch even this early into the night, she tries to look at least somewhat engaged. Like she has no doubts whatsoever concerning the reasoning behind her current predicament. The fact is, she does have fun in L.A. She knows how to party, she just... with Wolfram and Hart taking up such a large chunk of her life – their lives! – these days, it's not exactly at the front of her mind, is it? They've all been busy, working for the powers of evil. Doing good in a sneaky fashion. It's a great hypothesis, if nothing else, right? So, here she is, doing her best to enjoy the night life in the company of said evil, except in terms of damage control, Harmony is about as evil as a fanged bunny. At least if you don't flat out cut your veins open for her.

Speaking of which. Harmony disentangles herself from a couple of men, currently metaphorically glued to her front and her back, respectively. Leaving them looking slightly thwarted, she heads straight for Fred and their table in the middle of the bar. Harmony likes the spotlight.

Throwing her blond locks over one shoulder, her dress glittering in the polychromatic scales of the disco bulb, she flops down onto the chair right next to Fred. Smiling, she grabs her own, half-empty glass from the table and downs the meagre remains in one go before glancing at Fred with almost critical intensity. Raising both eyebrows in question, Fred manages not to squirm in her seat.

"You," says Harmony, her voice loud across the music. "You are not having fun. Why are you not having fun?" Her face falls noticeably. "Don't you like the place?"

No one else can manage the spacey jump from aggressively dominant to kicked-puppy with such impressive efficiency.

"No, no, I'm... I'm having fun! See?" Fred raises her drink in a festive manner, pretending that it isn't almost full to the brim. Harmony's smile fades even more. Fred, feeling like a horrible person despite being the only non-human-eater in the conversation, hastily adds, "Look, it's not that it's a bad place. It's just..." She sets the glass down again. "It's Wednesday night, Harmony, and this isn't really my type of... thing to do on a Wednesday night. You know?" Harmony's distinctively unhappy face tells her very clearly that no, she doesn't know. Sighing, she's about to expand on that, even knowing that it probably won't make much a difference, when Harmony interrupts her. Forcibly. By grabbing her arm.

"Harmony –" One hand flying up to try and free herself, Fred has a few seconds to scold herself for not telling Angel – or Wes, or Gunn or just, anyone – that she's spending the night with a blood-sucking demon. True, there's a stake in her purse but it's not all that easy to grab it from here and she doesn't really want to stake Harmony at all, but...

Her trail of thought ends there, as she's pulled to her feet and... left there. On her feet. Without anyone's canines boring into her jugular. The hand on her arm is still firmly in place, though. That's a strong grip, incidentally.

"We're having fun," says Harmony, stepping closer to her, her light voice curiously... firm. Final. And just on the wrong side of screechy loud. "Stop talking and do as I say." And with that, she pulls Fred along, her pink nails digging into her arm and making her wince. Ouch. Even if she's not being as forceful as she could be, that's definitely going to leave marks tomorrow. Trotting along, feeling a little bit like a donkey on a leash, Fred thinks for a moment about the stake in her purse. Which is... by the table. Behind them.

Err. Well done, Winifred. That's nicely, borderline panic inducing.

She's brought to a sudden halt before she can lament the loss of her only weapon for very long, however. In the middle of the dance floor, the music running on a mechanic sort of beat as the DJ looks for the next number, Harmony finally releases her arm. Giving Fred a challenging look, she steps back and throws out her hands.

"This is where we have fun!" she says, spinning around once, quickly, before looking back at Fred, suspiciously, as to make sure she hasn't sneaked off during the fragment of a second when she'd had her back turned. "Sitting down is cool for studying, Fred, but a party takes life." She pauses. "Well, um. The... meta-something-or-another kind of life, anyway. You know what I mean."

Fred nods obediently, opting not to make a conflict out of it. She can dance for a bit, supposedly. Except she really, really, seriously hates dancing.

"I don't really –"

She doesn't get any further than that because the DJ finally decides on the next number. Suddenly, the loud speakers are booming with renewed beat, a rocky sort of insistence setting the background as the lights change from red to blue and back. She... doesn't know this song, she thinks, feeling sort of dimly confused as others find they way onto the dance floor, the two men from earlier aiming straight for Harmony. It's obvious that everybody else knows it and when a characteristic, rough female voice starts in on the vocals, Fred recognises the singer, if nothing else. Standing stock still (inappropriately so, considering how she's standing in the middle of the dance floor), she looks around, reassuring herself that this is, indeed, a hip bar, bordering on classy. It is – from the furniture to the decorations, this place isn't by any means low-class.

But to play a completely unrecognisable song, at this time of the night? When the singer in question has enough other songs on her repertoire?

"Come on, lady, don't just stand around!" A man behind her starts rubbing up against her and she takes an instinctual step forward, stopping before bumping right into someone else that she doesn't know. Ugh, this really isn't her thing, is it? She has a feeling she isn't doing well either, like handing in a paper that you just know will only barely manage a high distinction. Except this would probably be somewhere closer to 'failed' and what's with the high school references anyway? Edging away from the crowd, brain registering the lyrics very sporadically ('and my fingers are bejewelled with diamonds and gold'), she hopes that the men are keeping Harmony sufficiently preoccupied not to notice her slipping out.

Though, she should perhaps have remembered that vampire senses are more than just regularly fine-tuned. Even with what she knows of demons and exactly how easy it is, ending up as their dinner, Fred finds it very hard to associate Harmony with all of those super-human hunter skills. It's not just that she doesn't generally look the part; it's that she's the type to bring Fred along to party in a bar, teaching her how to have fun (okay, forcing her might be more accurate), wanting her to enjoy herself. That, and her brain really isn't... um. Well. She's just so incredibly unthreatening.

That is, until she's getting more or less completely in your face. Fred comes to a very sudden halt, Harmony having somewhat magically re-appeared right in front of her, her facial expression less than pleasant.

Fred is usually a pretty easy-going girl. It takes a bit to make her angry. At the present moment, however, she can feel herself losing her patience. She's played nice, hasn't she? Attempted to have fun, even if this is just not her thing at all. She's even gone as far as to let Harmony pick her clothes, which in hindsight was probably overkill. The point is, she's done her part. She's been patient and reasonably open to experience and tried not to be too exhausted. She's getting really frickin' tired of having Harmony push her about like a dress-up doll.

"Listen, I'm heading home," she says, her voice sounding overly loud. "Thanks for everything and I'm sorry if it bothers you, but –"

"Fred..."

"—I really have to go, so. I'll see you tomorrow –"

"Fred!"

"—and... we'll talk some other time –"

"Okay, okay!" Harmony steps closer, the smile on her lips definitely forced. "I get it. Just let me grab my stuff." Her brow furrows. "And your stuff. I can't believe you're almost forgetting all your things, just to avoid having fun." Without waiting for Fred to explain that no, she's actually on her way to getting them and no, there's really no need for her to follow her home or whatever she's planning on, Harmony disappears out of sight. Magically. Vampire swiftness is really nifty, just not when you need to keep them around.

Keeping from fiddling with her hair, feeling restless and kind of drained, Fred tries not to think about how this night has been a waste of her time. The important thing is that she'll get to bed earlier than she thought and be ready for another day at work tomorrow. A work of good, no matter what they've all managed to get themselves stuck in at the moment. Pink days equal days off, huh? No wonder she doesn't associate pink with anything resembling a time table. The way they do good at the moment, she thinks as she moves to the side to avoid getting bumped into by a drunken man, takes dedication. It's not just another day gone, another life saved. That was too easy, wasn't it? Too straightforward. This equation is a lot less simplistic. A design with too many unknown variables.

"Here!" Harmony pauses next to her, handing her coat and purse over. "You didn't want the rest of the drink, right? I left it with some guy." A strained smile. "He was kind of cute. Anyway, are we going or what?" High heels clicking against the floor, she heads straight for the exit without another word. Fred sighs. She can't ask her not to accompany her on her way home now, can she? She's already angered her enough. Harmless or not, that's a demon throwing a hissy fit. There's no need to make it worse.

It's too late for this. Pulling on her coat, she follows, feeling frustrated. Worn. And a little bit stupid. She leaves the bar, the music ringing in her ears as it hits its final bridge -

('if you see me coming down the street, then you know it's time to –')

- and she decides that she's simply been cooped up with science and demons and drama for so long that the song has gone unnoticed. That's all there is to it. Of course.

The streets of L.A. are busy, the noise a pleasant sort of buzz compared to the loud music in the bar. Less insistent, more of an urban constant. She likes the city, with all its lights and life and activity; true, the enormous scope of shadowy walls, stretching upwards and upwards and hindering the visibility of the sky can be scary at times. Makes you feel small, sort of. But it's also a little bit vast and epic and Fred wouldn't be all that fascinated with quantum physics if she couldn't work with the over-turned eight. Even on a lesser, more practical scale.

Walking down the sidewalk, she tries to focus on the starry eternity and all its poetic qualities. Not that she's all that poetic as a person, but. The alternative is thinking about Harmony's current mood, which seems to be inching downwards towards sub-zero at an alarming pace. The blond girl hasn't said a word since they left the bar, her arms crossed over her chest and her lips tightly clamped together. Fred is Fred, however, and she's pretty sure that saying any of the things she wants to say at the moment won't help. That leaves her blank, however, which is also bad. This night really isn't good.

But the stars are pretty. The ones she can see, anyway.

They walk for a long while in silence like this, with Fred's thoughts running from the sky to the vampire skills she doesn't seem to have and Harmony's shoes, clicking angrily against the pavement.

After ten minutes or so, Fred decides that saying something, anything, is better than this awkward stillness. It's only a night-out, after all. It's not a catastrophe.

"You know." Harmony speaks before she does. "I only wanted to help. Like, I didn't want you to feel like a loser, right? But I think you kind of did anyway." She stops, giving Fred a very intense sort of stare, something that should've rightly made her cross-eyed. It doesn't, though. Probably also a special vampire thing. "What does it take to make you have fun like a normal person, huh? Is it just too... ingrained in you, to be intelligent and boring? Is it a nerd thing?"

Fred stares at her. "Wow, that's... really rude." She steps closer, unwilling to start yelling. Looking at Harmony, the two of them just about the same height, she feels an odd combination of tiredness and... disappointment. Like Harmony's anger is rubbing off on her, making her blame herself for... for what? For not having fun? For not dancing and drinking and enjoying a night out when she'd rather be working and doing something constructive? "I'm not boring and I don't need help, Harmony! I – I'm all about fun, alright? At the right times. But we all need to prioritise – or we do, people do, because it's not all fun and giggles. Sometimes, it's only about work, for days and weeks and months at a time and... and that's alright. I'm alright with that." She takes a very deep breath, realising only now that she's looking away from Harmony, eyes scanning their surroundings mindlessly. She wants to say something more – something about responsibility, maybe, or something less pretentious – when Harmony interrupts her.

"When I was alive," she says, softer now, her gaze losing its intensity, "I used to do my homework in the breaks. You know, between classes." Just a fraction of a smile, at least in her voice. "It took me, like, fifteen minutes and my scores always sucked. I had a teacher scold me once because I was pretty much failing everything." She starts walking again, waiting for Fred to fall into step next to her before continuing. "I cried about it. I mean, grades are pretty big stuff when you can't score a 1000 IQ points or whatever you've got when you're really smart." A real smile this time. "But right afterwards, I went out with my girls and we all got hugely drunk and things were awesome again."

Fred can't help but mirror her smile, though her own version is less untarnished. "So, you prioritised differently. It's the same, isn't it?"

"No!" Harmony glances at her, her smile replaced by a look of exasperation. "You're not getting it. My version is better than yours."

"What?"

"Look." Rolling her eyes, Harmony stops again. Fred looks around. The street is almost empty here, though she can't remember how they got here in the first place. Is she really that tired? "You're really smart, aren't you?" Looking back, uncertain if she's supposed to answer that or not, Fred is more than a little surprised to find Harmony standing only a foot or so away, the smell of her perfume (something expensive and sweet, with an edge of spice) suddenly rather dominating. Hand on her purse, she stands her ground.

Harmony continues, her voice more quiet: "How can you not see that having fun is much better than being stressed and unhappy? And you don't even have to have fun all the time, like me, because I get that you're a nerd and you have... nerdish needs and stuff." One step closer and this time, Fred does back away because um, wow. Proximity. "But one night in a whole week! It's like you've just... chosen not to enjoy yourself and it's like..." A brief moment of silence as she looks deeply thoughtful, clearly wringing her brain for an adequate example. "It's like... you have all that brainy knowledge and we all know it's valuable, right? So why can't you see that I have valuable stuff to offer, too? I get why Angel doesn't see it, but you're supposed to be smart."

She really wants to come up with a quick retort, if nothing else, and then, get home. Get herself out of this situation, where she's standing in the middle of an empty street close to midnight with no one around but a demon woman. But all her answers seem wrong, somehow. Yes, she could tell Harmony not to think so hard and strain herself, but while Fred has more than a small touch of cruelty hidden inside of her, she's not a bully or a bitch. And while they aren't fancy words by any means, what Harmony says... what she says isn't bad is it? It's not overly nuanced or well-analysed, but it's not wrong, either.

She could easily tell her that they have more important things to do than enjoy themselves, that they have to save the world again and that it's just not all that simple anymore – not that it ever was, really. But Harmony doesn't care about that, does she? She doesn't care about right or wrong, she cares about making her existence worthwhile. To herself more than to others.

And it strikes Fred, rather viciously, that being around heroes doesn't really teach you that particular aspect of life.

Something hard hits her in the back. Glancing over her shoulder, she realises belatedly that it's the wall of the nearby building, suddenly much closer than before. And Harmony is still very much in her face, the distance between them just about short enough to be inexistent. Again, the smell of her perfume registers, this time along with something sweet and bubbly (shampoo and hair-care products) and the sounds of her jewellery, arm bands and earrings ringing with a bell-like insistency. Also, Fred thinks, there's a definite feel of breasts, pressing against her. Because whereas Fred is... subtle in more ways than one, Harmony is one, big emphasis.

Feeling her cheeks heat up, she raises one hand to Harmony's shoulder, pushing at her forcefully. And getting nowhere. Harmony is much like a rock – not just mentally, but physically, too. As soft and femininely curvy as she looks, there's no way she's going to move unless she feels like it. And right now, apparently, she doesn't.

In the moonlight, that dress really is very, very pink.

"Um." Fred tries to slide out from between Harmony and the wall to no avail. "Excuse me..." She tries again. Same result. Eyebrows knitting together in annoyance, she finally snaps, "Harmony. I have to get home."

"Yeah." Harmony gives her a strange look, somewhat distanced and sad, with a touch of her usual, light-hearted amusement dancing in her blue eyes. "It's been a real downer, this night, huh?"

Fred shrugs. "No, it's... I mean, I know it's not a perfect way to look at it but these days, I'm just not cut out for... this brand of fun." She realises she hasn't let go of Harmony's shoulder and quickly drops her hand, trying not to think about how she must be blushing a perfect pink, the heat in her cheeks a sharp contrast to the coolness of the air. "I'm sure, at some other time..."

She doesn't get any further. Once again, for Lord knows which time tonight, Harmony interrupts her. Except this time, she leans in and Fred gets a glimpse of intensely blue eyes and glistening, pink lip gloss before there's a soft touch of lips against hers, slightly damp but more like flower petals than anything wet, and what in the world...

It takes her at least five seconds to think about pulling away. Because, well, this is her, getting kissed in the moonlight and it would have been romantic, probably, if it weren't for the fact that she's getting kissed by a vampire and does this mean she and Buffy can make a club or something now? Except, there's no way she's going to – to take it any further and this is Harmony and she's a girl and also, a vampire and why isn't she grabbing her stake?

As if cued on by the word 'stake' (though obviously, vampires can't read minds – Harmony can't even read her own at times), Harmony pulls away. For a second, just the briefest, briefest second, Fred feels oddly bereft. Harmony's lips aren't warm – nothing about her is – but they were present and insistent and soft. And girly. This is obviously not a plus. Um.

"I thought I'd leave you with something nice," says Harmony after a moment, licking her lips and giving Fred a... friendly smile. Like she's just handed her a bunch of flowers or a teddy bear. "And you did owe me something. For being so boring, ugh." She doesn't step back, one hand coming up to rest against Fred's chin very lightly. Fred wants to pull away because they've really been doing this, whatever it is, for long enough. But she can't, not quite. Because Harmony isn't done speaking and for the first time, Fred finds herself curious as to what she's going to say.

Curious, about something so devoid of anything but self-centred bubbles and pink exclamation marks. Curious about...

About someone wanting to live her death with the most irresistible need to simply be happy.

Harmony's voice has regained its familiar lightness as she says, "You're paying for the drinks next time, okay?" A wide smile, just a hint of fangs, and she steps away, leaving Fred standing there with her back against the wall, only now aware of the way one strap of her dress has slipped down her shoulder. Looking after her, unable to help herself, Fred watches as she saunters down the sidewalk, the lights from the street lamps reflected in the pink of her dress as she blends in with shadows.

Well, she thinks, her head spinning and her lips tingling.

At least. At least...

A small smile.

At least, she hasn't wasted her evening after all.

No attorneys to plead my case
No opiates to send me into outer space
and my fingers are bejewelled with diamonds and gold
but that ain't gonna help me now

[Pink, 'Trouble']