Based on the movie: What Women Want, a Remington Steele fanfic… Laura/Remington Steele. I recommend you watch the film for enjoyment but also to realise that what I'm writing isn't completely crazy since someone actually made a film with a similar plot line.
No particular season setting, just mid-way I suppose.
I own nothing.
Laura groaned as she caught the hour hand reach 1 out of the corner of her eye; 1 AM that was. She and Mr Steele had been up all afternoon and night, turning into morning, trying to work out the motives of the high-flying fashionista, Madame Darcy, the main suspect in their current case.
After exhausting money trails and paper leads they'd been flicking through surveillance pictures of the woman for the past hour. The only thing that seemed to stand out was her striking sense of fashion; the outfits, hairstyles, lipsticks – they changed in every shot.
Remington Steele ran a hand over his weary face, "As we established a while ago Laura, I really can't decipher this woman's intentions, maybe it'd be best if we," he pouted at Laura, laying on the suspense for some suggestive follow-up, "went to bed? Not together of course." He laughed but the question was always there and it was always real.
"No, no, if you're tired of this honest detective work Mr. Steele, maybe it's best that you get some rest and resume your advisory role," Laura mocked, also hoping he'd take her up on the offer so that she too could get some sleep without letting on that she'd given up.
"You know," Mr Steele pondered as he collected his jacket, clearly intent on leaving, "I have no way to relate to this ridiculous woman. Maybe if I hopped into so pantyhose and found a tempting blue nail varnish that matched my eyes, I'd have her figured out in a wink," he raised his eyebrows, showing off his sparkly blue eyes to his weary admirer.
Laura scoffed at the thought, trying to stop the image from appearing in her mind with her own quick remark, "You should try it Mr Steele. Maybe you'll find a new identity, one that doesn't irritate me so much."
"Goodnight, Miss Holt!"
And with that he was gone and Laura was left to her own peace and quiet, which was lonely now she thought about it.
Fred drove Remington Steele back to his apartment. It was a night unlike usual, warm but humid, threatening a storm.
"Actually Fred, rather than taking me straight back, would you mind dropping me off at the corner store?" Mr Steele asked as he caught the shop-front lights bounce off puddles formed in the road approaching his stop, "I'll walk the rest, don't worry."
Fred nodded and promptly stopped outside the store, as requested. "Thanks Fred, have a good night," Steele said as he tapped the car-roof and headed towards the store.
He was only joking when he'd suggested to Laura that he adorn pantyhose and flattering nail colours, but maybe it would help the case, or at least surprise Laura when he told her about keeping his word tomorrow.
Only briefly browsing the aisles, Steele purchased the first feminine items he saw, smiling kindly at the cashier as he imagined a good husband running night errands for his wife would. Not long after leaving the store, Steele reached his apartment and entered, outfit in hand. He'd bought some pantyhose and nail polish, as promised, but also some lipstick and mousse for volumizing hair.
"This is ridiculous," he uttered as he climbed into the undergarments with his, now smudged, painted nails. "These AM hours should be for love and drinking only," he thought as he realised he'd reached that sobering point of the night which caused delirium out of boredom.
Finally complete with his look, he glared at his image in the mirror; it was a sight, he really should have got some sleep instead of trying to channel a mysterious Madame. No thought of this fashionista's motives sprung to Steele's mind, only the realisation that he had to blow-dry out the hair product he'd diligently applied.
Humming tunes he didn't remember the name of and blow-drying his hair, Steele noticed the now near-sweltering heat in the room, no doubt due to his dancing, his hair-drying and initial embarrassment after seeing his outfit. All whilst still blow-drying, Steele pulled open the balcony doors to let some air in, forgetting the looming storm which was now violently thrashing his window-panes. As fate would have it, lightning struck the pool of water at Steele's feet as he stood on the balcony, dryer in hand. An electric current rushed through his body leaving him blacked-out on the carpeted floor he fell back onto.
The next morning was unfamiliar. Remington Steele and woken up with women their womanly items around him many a time, but he could not recall a time he'd woken up as a woman. Well, he hadn't transformed into the fairer sex but he was certainly adorning some of their favoured items. Realising his state and recalling the evening before, Mr Steele hurried out of the items, viscously scrubbing at the poorly painted nails until he deemed them acceptable to leave the apartment with.
He took a taxi to work; the time was already past what he would have hoped and he didn't want questions as to why he was late.
"Good morning Mildred, good morning Laura!" said Steele, ensuring the last part was loud enough for Laura to know he'd arrived.
"Morning boss," chirped Mildred, briefly looking up to give a smile, "And don't you think that Laura won't notice you're late."
Steele snapped his head back to Mildred as he walked to his office, unsure he correctly heard her final, chiding comments.
As soon as he'd entered his office, Laura had too.
"Good morning Mr. Steele, any luck deciphering our duplicitous Madame Darcy?"
"Unfortunately not, did you have an–" Steele's words were cut off by what he heard from Laura soon after he began speaking.
"No I'm sure you didn't, because you wouldn't would you Mr Steele. I am the only real detective around here anyway, aren't I?" were the words he unquestionably heard in Laura's voice, and yet her mouth hadn't moved, and her face began to look puzzled as if she wondered why he'd stopped talking.
"Not like you to say so little Mr Steele," Laura said, clearly baffled by the man in front of her, who appeared to look…perplexed? "I assume what you were going to ask was whether I'd had any luck. And to answer that, yes, the case was solved and put to bed this morning."
"And if you care to get understand how then Mildred is filing it now, but I'm sure you'd rather follow me around like a lost puppy instead?"
Steele squinted at the petite detective, "Would you," he paused, considering whether testing these uncertain waters was a good idea, "like me to stay he and avoid following you round like a lost puppy today?" He gauged Laura's increasingly alarmed reaction, "Unless, of course, you'd want that?"
"What in the hell is happening here?!" Laura's mind screamed, while she outwardly replied, "You do what you want today Steele. We don't have any cases to work on yet."
That was a relief, Remington Steele didn't know if he could stand an entire day attempting to work through the grisly backhanded comments from Laura's mind. It was clear that what he was experiencing, how impossible it may seem, was the ability to hear people's thoughts, noticeably women's thoughts, unless his male taxi driver this morning thought nothing at all. Despite his initial sense of relief, he was intrigued as to how a day spent with Laura and her innermost thoughts might be. What was even more intriguing was how a day spent with Laura and her innermost thoughts might be when not working, but relaxing in each other's company.
"Laura?" Steele began as Laura started to leave, "Since there's no sleuthing to attend to, what would you say to having lunch with me? Possibly preceded by a stroll through the park, and maybe followed by a drive around San Francisco's greatest sights, at which we could share a dinner and end the evening with," he paused to consider her interest in his offer, "whatever you want."
"There are a lot of things I want from you, Mr Steele," Laura's sultry tone echoed. Steele smiled knowing he could look forward to hearing more private thoughts Laura had about him. "That sounds lovely, let me just check in with Mildred so I can give her the day off," was Laura's actual, conscious reply.
As she left his office he heard her parting thoughts. "He can be so romantic sometimes… shame it's because he's so used to being a womanizer…but at least his affections are directed towards me…for now I suppose…I don't even know his real name…"
A/N: In true Remington-Steele-style I have chosen to largely ignore Fred and the fact that his working hours probably don't include 1am.
I haven't written in years and years (and those writings were of an illiterate 12-year-old) so I hope you enjoy my spontaneous ramblings, written at 3 am after watching the film that inspired me to write this (What Women Want) and having watched the first episode of Remington Steele earlier today. I have no idea if anyone on this planet cares about that ancient detective show anymore but I adore it and wanted to share this with the few people who might do too. Let me know if you enjoy this by leaving a comment, favourite, etc. And I will try to continue this but as I hinted, inspiration strikes rarely.