A/N: Hey guys, it's me again. Was watching some old Frasier re-runs the other night which really reminded me how much I loved the show. BEST SITCOM EVER as far as I'm concerned. I can only hope that I can write as well as those guys can some day.

Anyways, this story recounts one of my favourite episodes "Daphne hates Sherry" before taking on a mind of its own towards the end. It contains some frisky business towards the end (this chapter is fine) but if that kind of stuff bothers you, don't bother reading chapter two.

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I wish I owned Frasier (or more specifically Niles and Eddie) but unfortunately, I don't. A travesty, in my opinion.

Daphne is a goddess. Notice I use a metaphor here, not a simile. That's because Daphne isn't like a goddess, she is one.

I've loved Daphne from the moment I first laid eyes on her. I know that sounds corny and, as a doctor, I shouldn't really believe in such romantic ideals, but it's true. I think about her all the time. From the moment I first wake up in the morning to the moment my eyes slip closed in sleep at night. I even dream about her. Sometimes, these dreams are innocent. Sometimes, they're not.

I thought I was having one of these not-so-innocent dreams the time she knocked on my door one sweltering summer's day. She explained that she and Sherry, dad's latest squeeze, had had an argument but I barely heard anything. All I could really focus on was her: the perspiration on her decollete, the way her tight white t-shirt clung to the stunning form of her. She was a devil in the most pleasing of shapes sent to tempt me. I actually passed out when she told me she wanted to spend the night.

I passed out again at the sight of her unbuttoning my shirt in an effort to cool me down. Pathetic, I know, but try to imagine it from my perspective. She was close. So close. The only time she had been closer was that time at the Snow Ball when we'd kissed. Now, her face was right there. Close enough for me to kiss it again. And her fingers were skimming across my chest light as a butterfly's wings as she undid my buttons. It was hardly surprising that I lost consciousness.

When I finally came to, Daphne was daubing my forehead with a damp cloth. It helped. But not much. I couldn't help but feel hot and bothered with Daphne around, and the weather really wasn't helping.

"Are you feeling any better?" she asked, that beautiful accent of hers causing my heart to skip a beat.

"Yes." I said, slowly rising into a sitting position. "I don't know what happened, my knees never buckled like that before." I paused for a moment as I sought a suitable explanation. "The wine and the heat must have made me dizzy."

She seemed to buy it. "Yes, it is rather steamy in here."

"I apologise for the lack of air conditioning. It seems in order to live in an exclusive landmark building, one must have to sweat through the odd heat wave like a tortured character in a Tennessee..." I trailed off as I turned to look at Daphne who had move off the fainting couch to stand in front of the fan. This would have been fine but she wasn't just standing there. She was airing herself, rather provocatively, letting the wind from the fan cool her flat stomach. My mouth dropped open and it was all I could do to finish. "Williams... play."

Again, Daphne didn't seem to notice my slip. She simply bent forward and pulled down the collar of her shirt so that the wind from the fan now blew down her front. I wasn't sure what was better. The view of her white brassiere if I were to move in front of her or my present view of her bent over rear.

"I can't imagine what you must be thinking," she said. "Me barging in, asking to stay the night..." She trailed off as she continued using the fan to cool herself.

"Well, gee, I'm just thinking so many things." Daphne taking that tight white t-shirt off. Daphne letting me take that tight white t-shirt off. Daphne turning around and letting me see her. Daphne turning around and letting me kiss her. I took a long sip of my wine. It didn't cool me down.

"Sherry just makes me so mad." Daphne's voice grew louder as she turned around and let the wind from the fan blow up her back. I got to my feet, ready to calm her, but she continued. "She's been giving my number out to strange men so they'd call and ask me out."

"How dare she?" I said, making it clear I was on her side. "Why would she do such a thing?"

"Because she says I'm too rigid."

"Nonsense!"

"And that I'm too picky."

"Poppycock!"

"And that I'd be much happier if I just went out and had sex with someone."

I felt myself freeze as those words left her mouth, something deliciously hot washing over me in a wave. My lips pressed together before opening slightly as I wracked my brain for an apt response. She hadn't just said what I thought she said, had she?

I stayed quiet for a moment and took a seat on the fainting couch next to Daphne who had already sat down. Images of her on my bed, in my arms, her delectable scent wrapped around me, flashed through my mind unbidden. I had to know more.

"Just to play devil's advocate," I began.

"Don't tell me you agree with her!"

"No, no. It's much too hot for hell to have frozen over."

"I mean, it's like caveman thinking! 'All Daphne needs is a quick roll in the hay!'"

"Yes, well..."

"'A little slap and tickle would solve all her problems!'"

"Yeah, um..."

"The worst part it is... I think she might be right."

I leant forward at that. She definitely didn't just say that.

But on she went. "Maybe part of why I got so mad at her is because she hit a nerve."

I found myself agreeing with her. Anything to keep the conversation going in it's current direction. "It's very possible."

She lay back on the couch as she continued thinking aloud, and I had to run my hand across my knee to keep from reaching out and touching her. "I mean, I have been keeping myself on the shelf lately. I'm feeling a little like the good China."

My next words were out before I could stop them. "Someone should be eating off you everyday." Hell, I didn't mean it like that. Okay, maybe I did. But I never meant to say it. She simply looked at me, open mouth pressing closed without response. I diverted my gaze. "Music?" I said to break the tension.

She let it slide. "Lovely."

I moved quickly to my feet and headed toward the stereo, cursing my stupidity all the while. What's wrong with me? I wondered. I'm a psychiatrist. I'm smart enough to not make things awkward like that. I've ruined it now.

Or so I thought. I had just started adjusting the settings on the stereo when Daphne started talking again. She'd seemed almost hesitant. "You know, I hope this doesn't sound terribly forward, but I'm so hot. I'd really love to get out of these sweaty clothes."

I froze for the second time in as many minutes as my brain struggled to separate what Daphne had said from what it wanted to hear. For once, the sentences were exactly the same. The CD disc tray popped out (rather imitating something else) just as I realised this. I hastily pushed it back in.

"Would it be alright if I took a cool bath?"

I looked up and saw that Daphne at gotten to her feet and was looking at me expectantly. I fought to keep my response steady. "Yes, of course. It's upstairs, third door on your left."

Daphne smiled and dashed up to the first-floor balcony. "Thank-you," she said.

"There are fresh towels in the linen closet – use the Indian cotton, it will be more gentle on your skin."

She smiled down at me and I couldn't help but draw a comparison between this and the scene in Romeo and Juliet where Juliet stares down at her lover from atop the balcony. Daphne was my Juliet, only infinitely more beautiful and perfect. She had to know this. She had to –

"Oh, doctor Crane, you're always thinking of me."

"You have no idea..." I said to myself as I watched her disappear further up the stairs.

A.N: Hehehe! Poor Niles. Daphne has NO idea just how much she torments him. How he lasted 7 long years of this is beyond me...