While it was far from the intricate steps and lifts performed earlier in the evening, there still was some skill involved in the way Fred lifted up on her toes and pressed closer to better participate in that kiss. She wasn't content to remain an audience member. Especially not in this.

When Wesley broke the kiss, she still lingered close by. Fred couldn't be bothered to filter her thoughts.

"...why do people always say break? To break a kiss, I mean. Because I don't feel broken right now. Do you feel..."

She finally caught up with herself, and her ramble. Fred effectively ended it with a smile.

"A guy that knows a guy? And the front of a line?" There was a definite gleam in her eyes as she considered things. "I hope people behind me don't come away thinking I'm rude, because they might be waiting for a while."

"You actually want to be so optimistic as to go and make plans? Didn't you listen to the story I told you earlier?" It was one of the rare moments when Fred's words and her expression didn't quite match. Because even in the muted evening light, it was clear she was feeling a bit optimistic herself.

Privately she was also pleased to see Wesley remembered her favored perch on the roof. It would be all too easy to dismiss it, especially after the last time they were up here together. And then there was still the long-lingering notion that after five years of making herself as small and invisible as she possibly could? Sometimes people noticed anyway.

By the time they reached her spot Fred had already begun the transition from recital attendee to a much less formal star gazer. Releasing Wesley's hand, she tugged one foot after the other free of her heels. A calculated glance at the sky followed, determining the best place to settle that particular night when it came to the view.

"What would you like to do?"

"I kept waiting for you to throw your hands up in the air and declare yourself done with the entire ordeal. Especially after Disneyland."

There was an intended playfulness to her words as Fred settled back onto the rooftop, stretching out her legs in front of her. Free of the heels she flexed and pointed her toes. Of course, underneath the teasing words there was a thread of truth.

She'd disappointed him more times than not, and what was to keep that next failed date from being the one that made him throw his hands up in the air and say that he was done?

Of that thought Fred took a sip of her own champagne, then found a smile.

"Sooner or later I'm bound to run out of ideas. I've already taken you to the hot springs."

As Wesley effectively eliminated the space between them, Fred became aware of how the fabric of his tuxedo jacket brushed against her shoulder. The cut of her dress left it exposed -- to both the way his warmth seeped through and the sheer unexpectedness of the heavy, more masculine fabric against her skin. She flexed her toes again, forcing herself to focus on his words.

He wasn't inclined to give up.

Fred tilted her face towards his, still somehow unprepared for how close that brought them.

"...I'm glad."

It wasn't so much an acknowledgment of anything they were, or weren't. She didn't think either of them were ready for that. More it was an acknowledgment of him. Her gaze strayed to Wesley's open collar and the silk tie that sat unraveled there. Her fingers lifted, hesitated for a moment and then reached to claim it. Fred tugged it free, and allowed it to collect it a loose pile in her lap.

"It's not a clip on."

There was quiet amusement in her voice as she looked back out on the horizon, trying to direct her attention once more to the business at hand.

"And you're right, we don't want to give you an attack at the barn." Not the smoothest of transitions, but it would do. "There's a movie theater somewhere in the castle, I haven't ever been to it though. And a theater in town. There's also mini golf? Or bowling."

"...no. No. It's not that." His comment redirected her attention towards the pile of black fabric, and again Fred rearranged it. Her hands seemed to appreciate the activity. "It's just not what I'm used to."

Fred leaned back slightly.

"And you're right. You're really not helping." In return for stealing his tie, Fred finally gave Wesley a smile. "Is it so surprising we had trouble with this part before?" Again, Fred considered their options. "I don't know what kind of movies they show here. They could be horrible. I'd have to say I'm leaning towards mini golf, or bowling. I have to warn you though, I was practically conceived at the lanes, according to my folks. It's how they met. And I don't see myself going easy on you."

"Do you really think I'm the sort to take advantage of you?"

If he could keep his features so straight and even, then at least Fred could do her best to match them. But instead of taking a sip of her own champagne, set the glass aside and once again collecting the slender bit of black silk.

She dropped it in Wesley's lap, tilting her neck just slightly to allow Wesley better access.

"...go on then."

Never say she didn't take him as a man of his word.

Fred held herself deliberately still as Wesley went about his assigned task. His focus elsewhere, she was allowed a far more leisurely examination of his features than she might have otherwise. He'd clearly shaved before the ballet, but already a whisper of growth was visible just beneath his skin. The shadow was subtle in the dim light, and her fingers itched with an excuse to trace themselves down the line of his jaw.

Wesley's own hands were still occupied with the tie, not Fred minded. Through his stops and starts she was aware of the juxtaposition of the feel of the cool, silky fabric against the strong, calloused feel of his fingertips.

She'd always liked that word. Juxtaposition.

She liked ---

It occurred to her then that he was done.

Fred reached up with one hand to tentatively explore his handiwork. She took a breath, and found it wasn't too tight.

"Well? What is just what my outfit needed?"

"...we did."

Her voice was pitched low, with hardly a reason for more with Wesley so close. Something in the tone also notably affected from the touch of his mouth to her shoulder. Fred smiled. "If only because you're convinced I'm going to take advantage of you otherwise."

Clearly inspired by the ease between them, Fred reached up with the hand not caught between them to guide Wesley's face even closer to initiate a kiss of her own. Her fingers drifted to briefly rest against the skin left exposed by his open collar as she lingered in the embrace long enough to find Wesley beneath the initial layer of champagne. Her smile was slightly tilted as she pulled away.

"Just a bit of encouragement, to make sure you have the conversation. With the guy that knows a guy? I don't want to get lost in that line."

Then, embracing the contentment that'd settled over her, Fred let her head drop to rest on Wesley's shoulder.

Fred fell quiet at Wesley's quip about her position at the front of the line, her gaze settled on the shadowed treeline that cut across the distant horizon. Despite conversations and resolutions to the contrary, it was impossible not to let words like 'permanent' cut through. And because of what waited for both of them on the other side of this. More the sheer notion of -- the waiting.

This place gave and took people at a whim. Patricia was a raw, recent reminder of that. It was hard to get past the notion that Wesley wasn't not far behind her. Not after what happened before.

Fred released a sigh into the fabric of his tuxedo, collecting the feel of it into her cache of memories from the night. She consciously took that moment to put the rest of her thoughts away.

"Slay me, really? Those are awfully big fighting words. Are you so sure you can live up to them?"