Here's a quick one, done from another request. Hope you enjoy, and thanks again for all the lovely reviews!
When remodeling a new house, colors were very important to me. I loved the entire process of picking new colors - they had to go well together, and look okay on every wall of a room. I could spend hours, even days picking out colors just for one house. Even after I'd decided on colors, I still wasn't done. I ordered the ones I picked out, and then I tried them on the walls and decided which one looked the best out of each, and then I would order more to be put onto the walls.
Carlisle usually kept me company. He wasn't much help, as he had no sense of color whatsoever, but he would sit in the room I was working on and watch, read a book or newspaper, or work on some of the paperwork he had brought home.
"Okay, what about this one?"
He looked up from the newspaper he had spread on the floor in front of him. It was almost adorable, to see him sitting cross-legged in the middle of one of the old white sheets I had put down so as not to get paint on the tiled floor of the new kitchen I was finishing up. Only Carlisle and I were in the house at that moment - the rest of the family wouldn't be joining us until later in the week, by which time the entire house would be done.
"It looks . . . blue."
"Compared to the other one?" I stepped aside to show him the other swatch of blue I had painted on the wall so he could compare.
"It's . . . bluer?"
I sighed, exasperated at him. I didn't mind though - we went through this every time. It was almost ritualistic.
"Which one do you like better?"
He seemed to want to humor me, for he got to his feet and moved closer for inspection. He studied each one in turn for several minutes and I rolled my eyes at his antics.
"The one on the left." He finally decided and I nodded, setting that aside for now as I grabbed the two reds I had picked out. With a new paintbrush, I took each one and made a small swatch of the color on the wall, just above the blue. Carlisle remained standing beside me, watching me work. I knew he liked to watch how I worked, enjoying working out the methods to my madness. Watching me work was just as much fun for him as remodeling was for me.
"Okay now pick a red one." I stepped back again. Again, he studied each one.
"I can't tell with your painting technique." He said at last and I frowned.
"What about my painting technique?" I knew he was teasing, so I decided to play along.
"Here, let me try again." I picked up my brush and paint, and pretended to turn toward the wall. At the last minute, I whirled on him and painted a line of red across his mouth. "Better?"
"Still a bit off." He muttered, trying hard not to let the paint get in his mouth. "Let me show you how it's done." He picked up the blue paint and the brush, and before I could react, he painted a line of blue across my mouth to match his red one.
"You need some yellow." I mused, already reaching for the other cans of paint. I popped it open, and without even bothering with a brush, I dipped my fingers in it and ran the paint all along the side of his face, down his neck, and onto his shirt.
"You know, green does look rather good with blue." He replied, before splattering the green paint all across my front - and the wall behind me.
He was asking for it now.
It was a good thing there were white sheets spread out across the ground, protecting my tiled floors as we flung paint at each other. My hand found its way into the purple, and I made handprints all down his front. He grabbed pink and twisted the color into fistfuls of my hair.
I grabbed the orange and ran. Paint splattered across my back and I shrieked, whirling and blindly flinging paint behind me. The orange splattered into Carlisle's hair as he tried to duck - in the same movement, he grabbed me around the waist, his other hand coming up to run down my front, spreading white across my clothes. I dumped the rest of the orange into his hair.
"Do you realize how childish this is?" I asked, grabbing one of the other cans and popping the lid off. He grabbed it as well and we wrestled over it - having paint all over our hands made it difficult.
"You started it!" He accused with a laugh as the paint can went flying and we were both covered in magenta colored paint. We grabbed other cans and continued to fling it at each other.
When the paint ran out, I didn't stop there. I flung myself on him and tackled him, where I pressed myself against my husband and smeared the paint on my front onto his, a smirk across my paint covered face.
"I like this version of remodeling better." He mused, glancing around now. I followed his gaze - evidence of our fight covered the walls now, as shades of all sorts of the various colors were now splattered across the wall, like a Pollock painting. I had half a mind to leave it like that. "You look good covered in paint. You should wear it more often."
"Your mouth is red." I mused, tracing the edges of the red paint that rimmed his mouth.
"And yours is blue." He gave a smirk and pulled me closer. He chuckled, golden eyes filled with something I couldn't quite place.
"What's so funny?"
He gave a mischievous smirk of his own.
"Want to make purple?"