Give Me Wings - Ch. 1

Hey all, this is my first fic for y'all in the Nanny fandom. Been a fan for years and years but I've always been too shy to do much more than lurk. I'd like to thank EspoirDio, Negschainsaw, Kate811, Lilliewildelangtry, and aFineMess5 for being so lovely and welcoming me to the fandom on tumblr once I finally got my butt around to speaking up c:

5:30 AM — Sheffield mansion, 1993

Swatting at his alarm clock in irritation, Niles rolled over, reluctant to leave the warmth of his bed. Surely Maxwell could start his day two hours later, he grumbled to himself, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. Scrubbing at his eyes, he made his way into his adjoining bathroom to wash his hair.

As he went through his morning bathroom routine he took a while to study himself in the mirror — it'd nearly cost him a timely breakfast quite often. He liked to look at himself. But he was a butler, he was forty-eight years old, and he couldn't find it in him to care so much, anymore. The face that stared back impassively at him was weather-worn and lined, but his eyes still held a mischievous twinkle that showed through to the young man at heart.

He pulled a few faces at himself in the mirror, grinned roguishly and set about the first of his twice-daily preening sessions. Perhaps to others it'd be as irritating of a task as spending time doing makeup, but for Niles it was relaxing — it was time dedicated to himself, running his hands over each of his feathers with the utmost care, so that they folded neatly against each other and looked crisp and clean — not that anyone was going to see them aside from himself. And yet somehow to him it didn't matter; every morning he awoke with plenty of time to make sure he got it done.

Pulling the last few feathers through his hands, he left the sink in search of his outfit for the day. As he slipped into his pants and searched for his belt, his thoughts wandered to the day ahead — he smiled to himself for it promised to be, as was quickly becoming the norm, full of surprises and excitement.

The advent of one Francine Fine's arrival at the Sheffield household brought a breath of fresh air to the family that was still reeling from the loss of their beloved Sara. It had been months since he had seen a smile grace any of the children's faces, months since Maxwell had done anything productive, months since CC had lifted her nose from stacks and stacks of paperwork. The entirety of running the household had fallen to him, yet no one had thought to ask him how he was faring, if he was alright, if he needed any help. It was expected of him as the butler to be able to handle his job and handle it well — without complaint, and without a problem. The appearance of Fran on the doorstep had wrought a turnabout in the family that Niles had been hoping to see for ages.

After Sara's death, Niles had found solace in one thing — pissing off CC Babcock, Maxwell's stately, graceful, and downright vicious business partner and associate. It was hard to reach her, though, with the walls that she reinforced tenfold after her friend's passing. If CC had been cold and calculating before Sara left them, she had quite literally frozen over afterwards. All of her interactions were more insincere and antagonistic than Niles could ever remember them being — though, he mused to himself with a small smile, she didn't really have to stoop any lower to reach that point. No one will melt the ice queen now, he thought. Not that he wouldn't stop trying — it gave him something to do, and Lord knows he needed a hobby apart from Windexing the office windows.

The creaking of the bedroom door behind him snapped Niles out of his thoughts and he whirled around, his hands coming up to his chest in an attempt to hide the rest of his shirtless upper body. He held his breath in hopes that maybe it was just… the wind, or something, the house being old, anything… but his hopes be damned. Six-year-old Grace Sheffield poked her head around the door frame, her eyes widening with curiosity as they took in the sight of Niles, standing nervously in the middle of his room. Gracie gasped as she realized what she was seeing, and she slipped inside of the bedroom completely, shutting the door behind her.

"You shouldn't be in here, Miss Grace," Niles stated, his gaze uncomfortable and fixed on the floor. He could feel her young gaze fixed on him, could feel the questions that she was asking without even having to say anything to him. He looked up at her, raising his eyebrow when she didn't answer him. "It isn't polite to stare, Miss Grace," he added on, his look of discomfort transitioning to one more stern and meaningful.

Grace nodded, and her big brown eyes fixed on Niles' inquisitively. "I wanted to know if you would bake cookies with me later," she said matter-of-factly, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

Niles nodded, waiting for the inevitable…

"But you have wings!" She exclaimed, stepping over to him and running a hand over the edge of his right hand flight feather. Niles didn't move. "You're an angel, Niles!"

Surprisingly, he noted, her voice was not filled with contempt or disgust, but rather the excitement that he had missed from her voice (all of the children's voices, really) for so long. He crouched down so that he was at her head level, a small smile playing about his lips.

"I am, but you mustn't tell anyone, Miss Grace," Niles whispered, taking on a tone of mock secrecy — though in reality, he was being dead serious.

"Why not?" She questioned him, and he could envision her running off to tell Brighton and Maggie, who would let it slip to Fran, who would tell CC — he shuddered. The outside world was not a good place for 'angels' like him, as it were, which was the truth of the matter; they were perhaps one of the smallest minority groups, and by the general public's eye, they were freaks of nature — impure, unclean, and regarded as mutts. Kicked down on, spit on, and degraded, he knew only too well what would happen were the rest of the family to find out (especially Fran: a Fine woman, he had learned rather quickly, could only keep something to herself for a very, very short amount of time before she burst and deigned it necessary to inform everyone of her thoughts).

"It's not safe for me," was all he imparted to little Grace, "and you mustn't say a word."

She nodded solemnly, and he knew that he could trust her — for she took everything she heard to heart, and she treated things with the utmost seriousness. Unlike the other girls her age, the young Miss Grace was not prone to gossip, but rather to burying her nose in a book — a book about psychotherapy, if he had to chance a guess, and to applying what she read to miniature therapy sessions with her dolls.

"Can you spread them out?" Gracie questioned, and he smiled fondly, turning his back to her as he obliged. They were clipped, the flight feathers shorn off nearly all the way, though when fully grown out they must take up the width of Niles' bedroom. He looked over his shoulder at the little girl, who was standing with a huge grin on her face. She reached a hand out to him again and ran her fingers over the large feathers that made up his wings. The feathers began between his shoulder blades as normal feathers, a dark reddish-orange hue that covered his entire back, down to his waist. His marginal coverts were the same red-orange while his primary and secondary covert feathers were red-orange black. The primary flight feathers were halved in black and white down the shaft — the secondaries were a solid black, and the feathers were bigger than her both of her hands put together, Gracie noted in awe. A splash of vibrant blue was visible at Niles' alula, the feathers of which were barred thinly with black and white and contrasted heavily with the ruddy red-orange of his mantle. The feathers were soft to the touch, softer than any of the blankets Gracie had on her bed and she smiled as Niles folded his wings back under his arms and wrapped them flat around his torso, pulling on an undershirt.

"Let me finish dressing and we will go downstairs to prepare breakfast together," Niles told her, shifting the subject from him as he slipped into and buttoned up a shirt. "Will you pick out a tie for me?"

Gracie nodded. "I will if we can make cookies, too, Niles." And at his nod she peered into his closet, handing a tie over her shoulder to him.

With his vest and jacket following suit, Niles made sure to double check with his young charge that he looked presentable, and with her approval he took her hand, making their way downstairs to begin another day.