A/N: With apologies and thanks to Lisacheerio85, whose "Educating Susanna" inspired the scenario, and KathyB, whose chapter with the bathtub scene in "The Visit" made me want to write one, too.
Chapter 1
Steam hung heavy in the air of the small private bathroom in the chalet where most of the Sheffield extended family was enjoying a holiday in the mountains. Niles knew about the enjoyment because he had seen them all heading out to ski, or back in for the hot cocoa he kept warming on the stove. And he knew about the steam because it billowed out to greet him when he finally managed to finagle the lock open.
Closing the door behind him, he demanded, "Babcock, what the hell do you think you're doing?" Niles's question cut sharply through her doze and caused her to wrench her body as she jolted awake.
Unable to hold in the whimper of pain at the unexpected movement, CC hissed, "Damn it, Niles, why are you in here?" With her good arm, she tried to gather enough bubbles to preserve her dignity, but gave it up as a lost cause. She draped a washcloth over her breasts and decided Niles would just have to cope.
"I've been knocking on your door for," he paused, his eyes drawn against his will to what the bubbles and washcloth didn't cover. Forcing himself to look her in the eye, he continued, "ten minutes, and finally had to jimmy the lock. I've already asked you not to use the latch. What are you playing at?" He sounded querulous, and her senses were still dulled enough not to discern the real distress that hid beneath his frustration.
Craving nothing so much as the languor a hot bath could induce, CC had made up her mind half an hour ago that doctor's orders be damned, she was going to soak in the tub if it drenched the plaster on her arm. She had been more careful than her original plan might've suggested, though, and in fact her cast was not much worse for the wear. The steam from the water had only dampened it slightly, and its awkward angle made it impossible to submerge, anyway.
"Every muscle I have aches, and I haven't had a shower in three days," she said stubbornly.
"That explains the stench, then," he said, relenting a bit.
CC scowled at him. "Why don't you make yourself useful and help me take off this neck brace? I want to wash my hair."
"You're kidding, right? The doctor said you mustn't remove the brace until we go back for your follow-up appointment." He crossed his arms and took a step back.
"Frankly, I don't give a damn what that quack said. Now get over here." Using her good hand, she gestured to a spot on the tile floor beside tub.
He moved a couple of steps closer to her. "I will not risk delaying your recovery, Miss Babcock. God only knows how much longer I'll have to care for you if we take off that brace." He shuddered for effect.
A change in tactics seemed to be in order. If commanding didn't work, perhaps wheedling would. "Please, Niles. Have I ever asked you nicely for anything in my life?" She widened her eyes.
He glanced at her expression, taken aback by the difference in her demeanor. A Babcock who asked rather than demanded? Who said please? He took a step closer to the bathtub. "What makes you think I'd be willing to help you wash your hair?" A note of curiosity clung to the rhetorical question.
"Two hundred fifty bucks?" She grinned up at him.
He smirked back at her. Trust the old battleaxe to remind him of one of the most pleasant evenings they'd ever spent together. "Well in that case, how could I refuse?" He bowed jauntily, then stepped up right beside the tub.
She released a sigh of relief.
"Can you turn around a bit? The cast is blocking my access to the brace," he said, considering the problem critically.
"Like…?" she indicated with her uninjured hand.
He cocked his head to the side. "No, more this way," he motioned, gesturing for her to lean her back against the edge of the tub where he stood.
She groaned as she tried to shift her weight, her casted arm a constant obstacle, and the pain in her chest growing with each attempt. "Damn it, I can't—"
"Shh, be still. Let me help you." Niles paused to pull the sweater over his head, and CC couldn't keep from gulping when the button-up he was wearing underneath came untucked and rode up a bit, exposing a couple of inches of skin above the waistband of his trousers. How was he so tan there, this far from summer? She closed her eyes and gave her head a shake to try to remove the image, and gasped from the agony induced by the slight movement.
"Now what happened?" He asked, as he unbuttoned first his right cuff, then his left.
"I… nothing. Could you hurry it up, Beulah?" She tried to keep her eyes off his forearms as he rolled up his sleeves.
"I'm ready, oh patient one. I'm going to just…" He trailed off as he showed her what he planned to do.
"Fine, do it already," she bit out.
Niles knelt on the tile and slid one arm behind her and under the water, grasping her hip with slippery fingers, and did the same with his other hand. Then he lifted her so that she could position herself with her back to him. When her washcloth slipped down into the water, his eyes slipped down to her breasts, and it took the entirety of his self-control to prevent his hands from following his gaze.
"Fix it," she said lazily, and though she couldn't see him, she had heard the hitch in his breath. Ever since the embarrassing episode with Nanny Fine's cookies a couple weeks prior, nearly every moment they spent alone had been charged with… something. CC hadn't figured out what, exactly, just yet, but she did know that she didn't mind if he was looking.
He reached for the cloth, his forearm grazing her breast in the process. They both shivered, and then CC flinched as pain shot through her collarbone.
"Sorry," he breathed into her ear as he spread the dripping fabric back over her chest, just covering both her rosy areolas. He let his hand linger on her skin a few moments longer than he could possibly justify.
She brought her right hand up to hold the cloth in place and murmured knowingly, "No, you're not," her voice deeper even than usual.
He cleared his throat and changed the subject. "I see you neglected to use the plastic the doctor sent home with you."
"I couldn't reach the whole cast, and I knew you would try to prevent me from taking a bath at all if I asked you to help," she huffed.
He rolled his eyes. "And miss a chance to scrub your hairy back for you? Never."
"Just get the plastic," she ordered, glad he couldn't see her smile.
"Yes, yes, I'm going," he said, and suppressed a groan when he stood, then tossed her thick towel on the floor to save his knees when he returned. Successfully wrangling the plastic around the cast, he said, "Okay, let's get this brace off now."
Her hair was already pinned up—had been, as far as he knew, since her accident, because he hadn't helped her do anything else with it. He felt a twinge of remorse for making her sleep on the pins for so long.
Removing the brace was a painless procedure, and he tossed it towards the door to keep it from getting splashed.
Once it was gone, CC breathed a sigh of relief. "My god, what an improvement already."
"Shall I…" he began, and took one of the pins from her hair.
"Please," she said, and he carefully removed the others, till her hair was a tangled mess. Then he said, "Okay, what first?"
She waved her hand flippantly. "You're the servant; you figure it out."
He made a face behind her back. "I suppose we might as well begin with your hair," he said, then took the bottle of shampoo from CC's toiletry bag.
"You have to wet it first," she said snidely.
"I do have some idea how to wash hair," he responded dryly, and unhooked the detachable showerhead. Intentionally adjusting the temperature to the lower end of the scale, he couldn't resist shooting a stream of cool water at her chest just to see the effect of it.
She shrieked and backhanded him, hard, when the chilly water hit her skin. Then she released a pained moan and hunched over, hiding her bare chest. Around clenched teeth, she managed to growl, "Damn you."
Repentant, Niles said, "Oh, Miss Babcock, I am sorry. Here, let me make it warmer." This time he tested the water on his own arm before soaking her hair. He even held his hand over her forehead to keep most of the water from streaming down into her face.
"Sometimes I really hate you, do you know that?" She was exasperated, if not surprised. But damn it, smacking him had hurt her a lot more than it had him. Well. She could make him pay for that.
"The feeling is entirely mutual, I…" he trailed off. "I assure you. Ah, would you like me to reposition the washcloth?" It was currently floating in the water.
"That won't be necessary," she said, and if she could have shot him a look of pure wickedness, she would have. "Nothing you haven't seen before, right?"
His only audible response was a curse as he fumbled with the showerhead, spraying himself in the process. Her throaty laughter at his trouble did nothing to improve his mood.