Penny Lane
When Kate came back, she had a stepladder and a toolbox.
“You didn’t need to get the whole box, you know.” Brooke said, picking a piece of lint off her shirt.
Kate flushed. “I - uhm - didn’t really think about it. I could bring it back-?”
“Oh, be quiet.” Brooke said, leaning forward to snatch the box up. “You need to get over that.”
“...’That’?” Kate asked, making air quotes as she did.
“Your insecurities. They’re annoying.”
Kate blinked.
“You expect me to just… get over them?”
“No. I don’t. You need to get over them, though. Which is why I said that, instead of demanding you do so right away.”
Kate wondered if Brooke analyzed every word before it left her mouth, or if she just took the literal meaning of everything automatically.
(She also wondered if Brooke had prepared by dressing up in an outfit she didn’t care about - because, if so, she looked absolutely wonderful in apparently garbage clothes.)
“...You’re weird, Brooke.”
Brooke snorted.
“Dropping some real bombshells, Beverly. Next you’ll say I’m a brunette.”
Kate grinned.
“You’re really pretty.”
Brooke, for a second, didn’t respond.
She blinked.
Twice.
“...Pardon?”
Kate giggled, trying not to flush red.
“I said that you’re really pretty.”
Brooke blinked. Again.
“...So I didn’t mishear you.”
“Guess not.” Kate offered, grinning from ear to ear.
“...That’s. I. Uhm.”
Kate hadn’t ever realized how adorable Brooke would be if she were rendered speechless.
“We’ve gotta unscrew the outlet covers, right?” Kate said, still grinning.
“That’s. Uh - yes. Yes, that’s… what we have to do. Yes. Let’s get to that.”
Brooke glanced down, and popped open the toolbox - before taking out a screwdriver. Her movements grew a little less robotic as she did - and she tossed it up and caught it, once. It almost seemed to reboot her - and her eyes seemed to light up again as her movements grew slick and easy.
“Well, I have no idea where your outlets are,” Brooke said, voice easy and smooth once again. She seemed very determined to firmly ignore what had just happened - which was fine with Kate, honestly. “So why don’t you take the screwdriver and take them out, while I lay some painters tape along the trim. Once we do that, we should be able to just lay down a drop cloth and… get to work.”
Kate tried not to think about how Brooke might react to a surprise kiss on the cheek.
Or just a plain kiss.
“...Beverly.”
Kate startled.
“Huh? Sorry - what?”
“You unscrew your outlet covers.” Brooke said, sounding very tired at this point. She offered Kate the screwdriver handle-first. “I’ll lay the drop cloth and some painters tape. Then we can get to work.”
“Oh. Okay. Yeah, I can do that.” Kate muttered, taking the screwdriver and trying really hard not to think anything sinful.
(She didn’t quite succeed.)
Oh me, oh life.
“Alright, that should be good.” Brooke said, as Kate set the outlet covers on the desk they had just moved. “Help me lay some painters tape. Just press it along the trim - we’ll go back over it with a putty knife later, make sure it’s well-stuck. And then we… should be ready to paint.”
“Alrighty then!” Kate chirped, taking a roll of painters tape from the bag. “This was easy enough!”
“It shouldn’t’ve been this easy.” Brooke said, flatly. Trying to muster up some proper anger over how much Kate had been repressing herself.
She failed.
It was hard to care much.
“It should’ve taken quite a bit. But you’ve kept this place practically empty.”
Kate, worryingly, looked quite proud at this statement.
“Well, cool! At this rate, we’ll be done in no time!”
Brooke rolled her eyes.
“Mm-hm. Get to laying, Bev.”
Kate gave her a two-finger salute, and a grin.
(Her headache was getting worse by the second. She should ask if Kate had some ibuprofen.)
(...Who cared.)
Once all the tape was laid and the dropcloth set, Kate smiled proudly, hands on her hips.
Brooke stared at her.
(There was something utterly sickening, in a fascinating sort of way, about the way people looked when proud.)
“Alright - let’s get painting!”
Brooke let out a slow, quiet breath, and wondered when exactly she had become friends with this fool.
“Let’s,” she said, voice dead. “I got two brushes. I have some of my own, but they aren’t made for painting walls.”
“You… have brushes?”
Kate gave her an interested glance. Brooke wondered what stage of corpse decay this girl would have to get to before she stopped repeating/asking about things she’d just said.
“Yes. I’m an art major.”
Kate blinked.
“Really?”
Before Brooke could manage a very flat yes really, Kate was plowing on with a smile.
“That’s awesome!”
“Not particularly.” Brooke said, dipping her paintbrush into the five-gallon bucket she’d gotten. They only had two gallons, but mixing them together in a larger bucket would make sure to even out any tiny differences in shade. “Now, Beverly, I would like to actually get some painting done today. So - hold the brush like a pencil and start painting along the top. We’ll do a basic outline, and then get to work with the rollers.”
Kate gave her a two-finger salute - and giggled.
Brooke didn’t smile.
A pointed look at the bucket later, Kate was actually starting to paint.
“Wait-”
Brooke paused, brush inches away from the wall.
“What about the music?” Kate asked, as she drew a slow, careful stroke along the top of the wall.
Brooke blanched.
“...Let’s forego music, actually. Unless you want to choose some.”
Kate blinked.
“You’d let me pick the music?”
“Obviously.”
“But - you, like, called it!”
“Mm.”
Kate stared at her for a moment.
“...You’re weird, Brooke.”
“So you’ve said.”
Kate smiled. “Okay, though! I can choose some music.”
Brooke was already beginning to regret this.
“Seriously? The Beatles?”
“What’s wrong with The Beatles?” Kate said, flipping her brush and tapping her foot to ‘Penny Lane’.
“Nothing, if you’re thirty and living in the past.”
Kate grinned. “I’m getting there.”
Brooke rolled her eyes.
“In the pouring rain,” Kate hummed - and offered her yet another wide smile. “Very strange.”
“Why did I ever decide to do this.” Brooke muttered, trying to ignore how ridiculous it felt in this lighthearted music - and in the face of Kate’s blinding smile.
“Because I’m the best?” Kate offered, with another stroke of her brush.
“You’re a dill, is what you are.”
Kate raised her eyebrows, smiling slightly. “Dill?”
“Dill, noun, 1A: A naive or foolish person.”
Kate gasped, laying a hand on her heart.
“My feelings! I’ve been hit!”
“You’re impossible.” Brooke muttered.
"Impossibly wonderful when it comes to my taste in music?"
“I’m surrounded by idiots.” Brooke rubbed her temple, tilting her head down so Kate couldn’t see her smile.
“Hey! I’m not an idiot!”
Brooke glanced up, and raised an eyebrow.
“You have paint in your hair.”
Kate startled, arm whipping to her side - so her brush wasn’t dripping paint onto her anymore.
“...Be quiet.”
Brooke snickered.