Marth looked at him, surprised at his deprecating tone.

"What's your problem? You said he was a good dancer yourself."

Roy looked away and Marth sighed. Beside him, Elisse yawned. He took her arm and helped her to her feet.

"Come on. Let's go home." With one last look back at Roy he headed for the door.

He woke late, smudging blue face paint on his white pillow, and reached one arm out to quieten the alarm clock. It was his day off; he could snooze a little longer before going downstairs to feed the cat.

He rubbed his eyes, awakening himself to a neat world of Magnolia, cream and white, light wood and clean lines. Yawning, he shifted his duvet a little and exposed one pale leg to the morning air. He loved his room, so clean and tidy. Perfect for starting brand new days in. Slowly he rolled out of bed and staggered downstairs to great a happy cat.

"Yeah, you have an easy life, don't you?" he asked it rhetorically, watching as fluffy little Catty (he wasn't particularly imaginative when it came to names) trundled off into the garden. He went back into the kitchen to get some cereal and sat down to eat it, looking around him aimlessly. The walls in here were Magnolia-coloured too, he realised. And so were the walls in the lounge. And now he thought about it, even the bathroom and utility room had Magnolia walls too. He'd never really minded it of even considered the colour scheme of his house before, but after yesterday's meeting with the handsome artist his views had changed. Ike had painted a stunning sunset on Elisse's belly, why not on a wall? But maybe that would be overdoing it. He didn't need an artistic masterpiece of a wall, just a splash of colour would to liven things up a bit. Maybe some yellow or peach or something. Come to think of it, Roy could help him with something like that. He considered calling him but then remembered Roy would be working today – their days off didn't always co-inside. That meant he could call Elisse or one of his other friends or… Don't forget, you need anything painting, just give me a call. That was what Ike had said. Anything. That included walls, right? It was precisely because he knew he shouldn't really call him that he felt tempted to do so. He'd only met the guy yesterday but so what? If he hired an average painting/decorating service he wouldn't know them at all. And with Ike there would also be the undeniable perk of working alongside someone he found attractive. The more he thought about it the more daring he felt. He found Ike's business card and dialled.

"Hello? Ike Greil speaking."

"Um, it's Marth, from yesterday's party? You painted a beetle on me." He realised that this was the first time he had told Ike his name.

"Oh yeah, cool. You alright?"

"Fine, thanks. I was kind of hoping you could come over and paint some of my walls?"

"And there was me thinking this was a social call." Ike laughed good-humouredly. "When do you want it done?"

"Um…well…" How bad would it sound to say 'I'm free now'?

"It depends on how many walls, what size and type of work you're after."

"I'm not sure." He really hadn't thought this through. "It's just that I looked around this morning and realised all my walls are Magnolia," Marth told him truthfully.

"All?" Ike sounded personally insulted.

"Yes."

"Bloody hell I'll be right there. What's your address?"

Marth suppressed a laugh at Ike's extreme reaction to his statement. "14 Caskarl Lane, off Toal Road." He waited for a response but after a moment Ike hung up. What an eccentric. Marth went upstairs to take a shower and remove the beetle from his cheek – stunning artwork as it was, it would look odd if he kept it on.

True to his word, Ike arrived in just under 20 minutes and Marth let him in with some apprehension into his Magnolia hallway.

"You weren't kidding about the Magnolia, were you?"

Marth shook his head.

"This is terrible!" Ike exclaimed, striding briskly into the kitchen, then the lounge. "What bleached mind had been at work here? This place has come out of some box!"

Marth followed him as he raced upstairs, running from room to room in dismay.

"Is every brick the same? No! Then why is every wall? Builders did not sweat to build an empty house!" He spun around. "Which bedroom's yours? I cannot even tell!"

Marth led Ike to his room. It was as blank as any other room, but Ike took longer here, walking from wall to wall, pacing restlessly in search of something unknown. Eventually he stopped and turned to Marth.

"Did you buy the house in this state?"

Marth thought for a moment. "The bathroom used to be a sort of dark turquoise," he acknowledged. "The rest was Magnolia."

Ike seemed to have gone past shock. "You painted something Magnolia," he stated slowly, his voice deadpan. Marth nodded, equally slowly. After a long moment Ike resumed talking in a low voice, as if to himself.

"Not only did you buy a Magnolia house and leave it undecorated, but the one room not Magnolia you painted Magnolia."

"Yes."

They stared at each other for a long moment, but Ike's gaze was so passionate Marth had to look away, suddenly ashamed. Ike sighed.

"I'm an artist, not an interior decorator. I couldn't paint a wall a solid colour, not even if that colour was electric blue."

"So what would you do?" Marth asked tentatively. Ike jabbed a finger at his head.

"Too many pictures and ideas in here. Abstract, colour, landscape, portrait, lines – this way, that way… argh! I can't stand this any longer!" he cried, racing past Marth, downstairs and out the front door. Marth wondered if that was it, but moments later he came bolting back up the stairs wielding a medium-sized tub of red paint. And before Marth could say anything or ask what he was going to do Ike threw the paint at one of the walls with force, the paint splattering out on impact to form a haphazard shape on the wall. Some of the paint dribble down to the floor whilst some rebounded, partially catching both Ike and Marth.

"Are you mad?" Marth exclaimed.

"Are you mad? All your walls are Magnolia!"

"You could have asked me first!"

Ike sighed. "Do you really object?"

Marth looked at the wall, now at least half covered with a gigantic splash of red paint. There had never been anything on that wall before, nor anything in front of it. Marth had thought someday he would cover it in photos and postcards from all the countries he'd visited. But of course he hadn't travelled, he'd stayed put. And the wall had remained blank. It was as if the red splash was making a statement – This is what I think of blank walls. He stared at it for a while.

"Inspiring, isn't it?"

Marth turned slowly back to Ike. "At least put some newspaper down first."

The morning passed in a blur. Ike busied himself adding to the red splash, mixing in some yellow and doing a little effective blending to make the splash look more like a contrived work of modern art. Meanwhile, Marth took out a notepad and tried to plan designs for the other rooms.

At lunch they both took a break for some sandwiched, and sat side by side on Marth's bed, admiring the modified splash of paint on the opposite wall. Ike, as preoccupied and topless as ever, moved his eyes restlessly over the new cosmic abstraction of the wall opposite whilst eating his sandwiched so quickly it was surprising he didn't choke. Marth looked at him in his baggy dungarees, the top half hanging down to expose his chest, smeared and splattered with paint. Despite the thought being a little childish and irrelevant Marth couldn't help thinking that he had a fit man in his bedroom, sitting on his bed only inches away. He felt ridiculously modest in comparison in his long sleeved polo-necked top and jeans.

"I'm not going to get every room in this house done today," Ike commented, standing up and pacing restlessly.

"I suppose I could come back first thing tomorrow and work until the evening… shouldn't take much longer than that, depending."

"How much will it cost?" Marth asked worriedly, suddenly realising that he ought to have considered it much earlier. Ike looked up thoughtfully.

"About £50 in paint costs…"

Marth sighed.

"…and around £1000 in lost time."

Oh damn. "I don't think I can affor–"

"But," Ike continued, "For you…one night."

"What?"

"That's the cost. One night – you come round my house and we chill."

"Er…" Was this guy asking for a one night stand?

"Or £1050." Ike shrugged.

What a choice.

What an offer. Please review!