Super fluffy Ichabbie...seriously super duper fluffy. Enjoy.

Abbie closed her eyes as she took in a deep breath. The corset squeezed her torso firmly. She puffed out the air left in her lungs as she looked at her reflection in her mirror. She studied the beautiful lilac colored dress flowing around her. Holding up her arms, she grimaced as she realized how limited the flexibility of the material was compared to the stretchiness of her typical outfits. God, why did she have to lose that bet to Crane?

Their chess playing sessions had become routine since her return, as did the routine of Abbie winning. After ten months of playing on her own, she'd mastered defeating almost every opening move she could think of. She'd eagerly proved this to Crane repeatedly and much to his frustration.

After a month of "handily outfoxing" him as he would resignedly grumble, her guilt started to kick in and, frankly, winning was getting monotonous. Knowing how much Crane hated to wear modern clothes, she decided to raise the stakes a bit.

They would play a single game of chess. If she won, he would have to spend the entire day in a modern suit of her choice, complete with vest and tie. No cheating or skimping out. If he won, she'd wear whatever he wanted her to wear. Of course, being the colonial gentleman that he was, she wasn't too worried with his choice of outfit. They cordially agreed and sealed their accord with a handshake.

If only she hadn't been so cocky. She couldn't believe his seemingly reckless move had quickly turned into an effective blindside. When he'd won, he proudly smiled at her shocked expression. He didn't boast or brag, he simply said to expect her ensemble by the end of the month. It wasn't until today that she'd woken up to an impressive colonial getup resting on the bench at the foot of her bed, complete with corset and fancy shoes.

To make things even weirder, when she'd come downstairs to eat a late breakfast in her pajamas, she was met by Crane and one of his reenactment female colleagues, an older lady dressed in colonial garb, helping prepare breakfast. Crane introduced her and told Abbie that she was there to help her get dressed. After eating and having a nice conversation with the cheery lady who refused to break character, Abbie reluctantly decided to accept her help with the dress. If she was going to follow through with the bet, she might as well do it right.

After the 'lady in waiting', as she called herself, had thoroughly constricted her ribs with the corset and weighed her down with layers of dress, she'd excused herself but not before urging her to "have fun". Abbie suspiciously followed her with her gaze out the door wondering why she would encourage her to "have fun". She dismissively shook her head and studied her reflection in the mirror.

Though it wasn't the most comfortable item of clothing she'd ever worn, Crane had managed to pick an appropriate size and cut for her, almost as if it were made specifically for her. The shoes were surprisingly comfortable and gave her a bit of a lift. Her natural curls framed her face and gently rested on her shoulders, lending a nice contrast to the lilac of the dress. She fought back a smile as she ran her fingers down the delicate details of the gown. On second thought, it really wasn't all that uncomfortable, it just took some getting used to.

As she posed in the mirror, a sudden flashback of walking down the toy section and scary looking porcelain dolls leering down at her from the shelves filled her mind. She shook off a shiver. Those dolls freaked the hell out of her with their unblinking eyes and ghostly complexions. Then again, those pale dolls were a far cry from what actual human beings looked like. They were an even further cry from looking like the princesses they claimed to be, whereas, in this dress, she felt like she could have definitely passed as genuine royalty.

Although, as she tucked her chin in and glanced down, she realized she had something none of those dolls or princesses did: boobs. They were perfection. She raised her eyebrow impressed with their plump roundness and perkiness. Not bad, Mills, she smirked, congratulating herself.

"Lieutenant?"

Her smile slid off her face as she glanced up at Crane standing in the doorway. She expected him to be smirking his ass off or snickering mercilessly but not staring at her like a teenage boy sneaking his first dirty magazine. His eyes were glued to her ample chest.

She furrowed her brow. In the years that she'd known him, he'd never stared at somebody the way he was currently staring at her. She knew that look – she'd definitely had her share of those looks in her lifetime – Ichabod Crane was getting turned on by Abbie Mills' boobs in a corset. She scoffed disbelievingly, sucking in her lips to hold back a smile. Crane stood paralyzed until Abbie decided to break the trance.

"See something you like?"

His eyes shot up to hers as his features contorted into embarrassment, horrified at his blatant ogling. He blushed furiously and stammered, "I-I-I am not..."

"You're not what?" she questioned, biting her bottom lip to hold back a smile, blinking innocently.

His mouth silently opened and closed as he searched for a logical explanation for his inappropriate gaze. His hands twitched nervously. "I apologize, Lieutenant. I did not intend to…I was merely a-admiring the cut of your dress. It…suits you," he stammered breathlessly.

She smiled at him doubtfully. "Does it?"

He nodded, confirming her question with a throaty noise that suspiciously sounded like a whimper.

Abbie smiled at him knowingly and shook her head. She loved teasing him but knew her limits. Deciding to change the subject, she looked back at her reflection in the mirror, admiring the details of the dress. "So you picked this out then? Didn't spend too much on it did you?"

He took a couple of hesitant steps into her room, as he carefully kept his eyes on her profile. "The costume maker from our war reenactment group owed me a favor after I shared with her, pardoning the pun, the finer points of English hand embroidery. As recompense, I requested this dress to be altered to your measurements. I did not realize that it would be quite so...flattering."

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. So he did have it specially made for her. The butterflies lightly fluttered in her stomach. It was such a sweet gesture but she was still stuck on what he'd just admitted to her. She really couldn't pass this opportunity up. He'd left it practically on a silver platter for her.

She turned toward him and crossed her arms. She tilted her head teasingly. "And how do you know my measurements, Crane?"

His hands immediately started twitching. He stuttered, "I-I-I…your…laundry. Clothing. I mean, washing clothes has its…perks."

She pursed her lips. "Mmhmm," she replied, not believing him for a second.

He smiled as he closed his eyes bashfully. He couldn't even believe his own words. She grinned and rolled her eyes amiably. Who would have thought her in a colonial getup would inspire all this flirting between them? She shook her head again as she tried to get their conversation back on neutral territory. "So this is what the ladies wore back then, hmm? Didn't realize how constricting these things could be." She shrugged her shoulders and adjusted the front of the dress.

"You are breathtaking, Lieutenant."

"Ha, you could say that again." She widened her eyes, avoiding his gaze. "Breath, all gone." She chuckled at her cheesy joke and nervously ran her hands down her slim waist suddenly very aware of the fact that she was wearing a very fancy dress in front of her very masculine partner. She cleared her throat and pulled at the fabric flowing around her. After a moment of what she thought was awkward silence, he complimented her again.

"Truly, Abbie, you are a vision to behold."

She glanced up to see him stare at her intently. She swallowed nervously and nodded, looking down at the dress again, desperate for a distraction from the tension in the air. It was quickly turning into another one of those tense moments that seemed to happen between them more often than not nowadays. She nervously inhaled. What she wouldn't do to escape that moment but instead of prolonging the uneasy air, Crane did what he knew best: he bowed deeply and extended his hand out to her. Her heart skipped a beat.

He could be such an easy target sometimes but then there were those moments when he would say or do something that turned her legs to jelly. This was one of those moments. Here he was, taking a bet meant to exploit his discomfort for the modern and turning it into an opportunity to not only woo her but to encourage her to embrace this well-hidden aspect of her personality. This aspect that included taking pleasure in being pampered and dressing up.

She rarely ever allowed herself to revel in those things because it made her feel self-conscious, vulnerable to criticizing. Though, being with him, those misgivings were less obvious. He never gave her a reason to feel ashamed to be vulnerable, especially now that she was dealing with the aftereffects of her months of isolation. Crane understood her yet he didn't shy away from pushing her outside of her comfort zone when she needed it. Like now for instance.

She smiled reluctantly and placed her hand in his, curtseying playfully. He slowly straightened his back and stepped closer. Rubbing her knuckles lightly, he gazed into her eyes. He tenderly smiled at her, momentarily silencing her self-doubts.

She glanced down and noticed he was dressed up in a sharp looking waistcoat, breeches, and shoes. She regarded him suspiciously. "The bet was for me to get dressed up."

He glanced down at his attire then back at her with a smile. "I am merely rising to the occasion, Lieutenant."

"Rising to the occasion, huh?" she prodded teasingly.

He blushed and gently released her hand. Clearing his throat, he folded his jittery hands behind his back. He looked at her timidly. "Lieutenant, I humbly request your permission to escort you to a convivial event this afternoon."

She frowned. This wasn't part of the plan. It was one thing to dress up and play pretend around the house, another to go out into the real world and expose herself to ridicule. Maybe she'd been too hasty in calling this pampering. It was starting to sound like retribution for something she'd done. She squinted at him unsurely. "An event?"

He smiled gently and quickly explained himself. "The historical society has organized a charity event in which participants are to be dressed in colonial attire whilst partaking in a myriad of activities and merriment. The proceeds of which shall assist in providing local disadvantaged youth with mentoring programs and educational scholarships."

She blinked and sighed in relief. For a second there, she thought he was just going to parade her around town dressed like this, maybe even stop by her old precinct for good measure. Instead, he'd managed to not only pamper her and get her into a dress but to give her an opportunity to support one of her passions; helping out disadvantaged kids. Crane never ceased to surprise her.

Nevertheless, being in public dressed like this made her feel more than uncertain. "So like a costume party?" she asked hesitantly, trying to convince herself more than anything to not wimp out.

"Mmm, yes. I suppose it could be called as such."

"During the day?"

He nodded. "It is expected to draw in quite a crowd."

"No Jenny or Joe? Just the two of us? "

He nodded. She mirrored his gesture before exhaling slowly. She could do this. She needed to do this but first she needed to clear up something. Blinking up at him, she pointed out, "Date wasn't on the table when we made this bet, Crane."

He acquiesced. "Tis merely a show of appreciation for the activities you have so generously shared with me these past years."

Looking up at him, she reassured him, "You don't need to repay me for that."

He bowed his head slightly. "Of course not." He studied her eyes intensely with his piercing gaze before lowering his voice, "However, I admittedly and most selfishly desire more moments with you by my side, Lieutenant."

She rubbed the inside of her cheek with her tongue as she tried to hide her smile. When Ichabod Crane turned on the charm, he really turned on the charm. This man meant business. Maybe she could hasten the inevitable.

She took a step toward him coquettishly. She laid her hands on the lapels of his jacket, pretending to straighten them out. "So you want us to create some memories? With this dress on?" She schooled her features as she looked up at him as seriously as she could manage.

He looked at her blankly as if processing her suggestion had driven him to a paralyzed state. He visibly swallowed and lowered his gaze to her full lips. His pink lips parted as she looked up at him calmly. He looked down at her hands on his chest. She could see his breath quicken. After a moment, he shakily inhaled. He swallowed again before a small smile slowly made its way onto his face. He placed his hands over hers before looking into her eyes once again.

He lowered his head near hers, his lips inches away from hers, and murmured, "You are not talking your way out of this one, Lieutenant."

She squeezed her eyes shut as she smiled. Damn, caught in the act, she thought resignedly. She leaned her forehead against his chest and chuckled. She felt a slight rumble in his chest. Even though he had a knack for seeing right through her and knew she was just trying to avoid stepping out of her comfort zone, he didn't judge or take advantage of her vulnerability. Instead, he managed to make her feel safer than she'd ever felt before.

After their chuckles died down, she turned her cheek and rested it against his chest. He released his hold of her hands and pulled her into a warm embrace. He rested his bearded cheek against the top of her head as they shared in a quiet moment. After a while, they slowly pulled away with smiles on their faces. He took her small hands and raised them to his lips. He gently kissed each one before releasing them.

Content, she took a deep breath and stepped away. They looked at each other steadily as she released her breath. She flashed him a nervous smile. "I guess I better finish getting ready," she said quietly.

He smiled tenderly and nodded. He turned to walk out of her room but not before stopping at the doorway. He turned his head toward her. She looked at him curiously. "What is it?"

"Though this afternoon is reserved for philanthropic affairs, you would not receive any objections on my part if you wanted to place undressed activities on the table for tonight." He flashed her a mischievous smile, swiftly exited the room before his words had time to register.

She stood frozen to the spot, her mouth bobbing open and closed, trying to find the words to describe her surprise at his boldness. He didn't just…did he?She laughed disbelievingly, shaking her head. And there went all her nerves out the window, she thought laughingly. She finished getting ready, a huge, inerasable smile on her face. Leave it to Ichabod Crane to completely blindside her in more ways than one.

Hope you enjoyed the overkill of fluffiness in this one. :)

Your fluff-enjoying writer,

semul