And now, a break from all that angst! Here's a fluffy little fic, written in response to a friend's tongue-in-cheek challenge to pen a Music Man fanfic incorporating gratuitous nudity. It seems my muse has a mischievous streak!

XXX

One chilly February evening, when the branches of the trees were encased in ice and the landscape was a barren, frozen wasteland, Marian Paroo Hill was later than usual getting home from the library. And for a woman who was as prone to working late as she was, that was really saying something.

But it wasn't just any night she was late; it was the three-month anniversary of her and Harold's wedding. Though Marian was acutely aware of this fact, she had purposely delayed coming home. The reason for this was because earlier that morning, she and Harold had gotten into a fight.

As usual, Marian was in the kitchen cooking breakfast while Harold engaged in his normal routine of getting ready for the day. Usually, this involved him popping into the kitchen at various intervals.

"Marian, have you seen my blue bowtie?"

"Marian, where are the scores for the spring concert that we were looking at yesterday?"

"Marian, have you seen my other glove? No, the black one."

Shortly after they were married, Marian discovered that as focused as Harold was on his grand plans, he sometimes lost track of the more mundane details. Before, this had never presented much of a problem; his nomadic lifestyle had kept his material possessions to a minimum, which ensured he always knew where everything was. But purchasing a house had brought a considerable increase to the amount of goods Harold now owned – and gave him more space to lose them in.

Normally, Marian bore his interruptions with patience and good humor – and, being a well-organized librarian, she often anticipated Harold's questions and had the item in question waiting for him the moment he wondered as to its location. But this particular morning, when Harold asked her where his brown gingham suit was, she couldn't answer him.

Harold gaped at her when she told him the news. "But... how could you not know? You always know!"

Normally, Marian would have laughed and rolled her eyes, but she had awakened with a sore throat that morning, and wasn't in the mood to deal with his constant interruptions. "Harold Hill! Do you really expect me to keep track of each and every item that you own?"

Harold's usual reaction would have been to fire back a teasing retort, but he had the beginnings of a cold as well (her sleep the night before had often been disturbed by his constant sniffling), and was likewise in a rather foul mood. "What else is a wife for?" he muttered grumpily.

At that, Marian had lost her temper. Whirling around, she told him in no uncertain terms that being his wife did not equal being his maid, and that he'd better start learning to manage his own affairs, because she was through picking up after him.

Throughout this heated diatribe, Harold gazed at her with narrowed eyes. When she finally finished speaking, he said coolly, "I've 'managed my affairs' just fine for most of my adult life, you know."

Irked by the sinister significance in his voice, Marian challenged, "Well, perhaps you can go on managing them by yourself, then!"

"Fine," he replied in a curt voice. Without another word, he turned and left the kitchen.

Marian's eyes widened, and she longed to run after Harold and make amends, but her pride wouldn't allow her to be the first to concede. "If you have lost that gingham monstrosity, I'm glad," she called after him. "That's the ugliest suit I've ever seen!"

In response, the front door slammed shut.

Once he had gone, Marian stared numbly ahead, nervously pondering the significance of her husband's words. When the eggs she was cooking began to burn, the acrid odor brought her back to her senses, and she let out a small laugh and shook her head. She and Harold had had their first foolish little spat. Her mother had warned this would occur in the course of married life, and she had refused to believe it – surely, she and Harold were above such petty squabbling! Though it disconcerted Marian to realize they weren't any more immune to foolishness than other couples, she supposed there was no use in getting worked up over what had happened. They'd iron things out soon.

XXX

When Marian came home for lunch, Harold still hadn't returned. Though this disquieted her a little, she wasn't too worried – after all, he was probably busy at the emporium. So she ate a quick meal and returned to the library. But even though she refused to harbor negative thoughts about Harold's whereabouts, Marian found herself inventing yet another task she absolutely had to complete as the evening wore on. At ten o'clock, the librarian could find no further pretext to occupy her, so she grudgingly closed things up for the night.

As Marian rounded the corner to East Pine, she noticed the charming Victorian was ominously dark. When she opened the front door, she felt the stillness of an empty home. An awful dread settled in the pit of her stomach as every anxious thought she had been fighting against all afternoon finally broke free and ran amok in her mind: Harold had left her, Harold was never coming back, Harold had found solace in more welcoming arms –

Marian was on the verge of hysterical tears when she heard a sniffle in the darkness. Shortly after, it was followed by a sneeze. Wiping her eyes, she rushed into the parlor and turned on the nearest lamp.

Harold blinked and sat up from the sofa. "Marian, is that you?" he asked hoarsely. "What time is it?"

At the reproach in his tone, her elated relief transformed into irritation. "You could have left a light on for me," she said in a pointed voice.

"Well, happy anniversary to you, too," he replied sullenly.

Though her rational side was urging her to ignore this remark – after all, they were both tired and out of sorts – Marian couldn't let Harold's sarcasm pass without retort. "If you were so eager to celebrate our anniversary, why didn't you come home for lunch?" she snapped.

He scowled. "Why did you come home so late?"

Unable to find a response, Marian turned and went upstairs. So much for ironing things out!

XXX

As Marian took refuge in the sanctity of a hot, soothing bath, there was a soft knock at the washroom door. Before she could respond, the door swung open.

Marian goggled at Harold as he entered the room – even though they had been married for three months, he had never taken such liberties. In fact, that was precisely why she had decided to retreat to the washroom in the first place. The only thing that prevented her from ordering him to leave was the uncharacteristically meek look on his face. So even though she raised an eyebrow at him, she waited to hear what he had to say.

"I found my gingham suit," he informed her.

As flustered as she was by Harold's bold intrusion, Marian managed to maintain a semblance of composure. "And this was such pressing news that you had to burst in here and tell me immediately?" she asked coolly.

"It wasn't the suit I was really looking for – it was what I had left in the coat pocket." Reaching into his robe, he pulled out a small packet and handed it to her. "Your anniversary gift."

Usually on such occasions, Harold gave her a book, but this parcel was far too small and light to contain such an item. Marian couldn't resist her curiosity; she opened the packet immediately.

When the librarian saw her husband's gift, she gasped. He had given her that exquisite silver and amethyst eyeglass chain she had been secretly eyeing for months. Every time she passed the jewelry shop, she gazed wistfully through the windows at it. While not extravagantly expensive, the price was still a little too steep for her conscience; her sense of frugality would never have allowed her to purchase such a frivolity. Certainly, she had never indicated to Harold that she wanted this item. Stunned, Marian gazed at her husband. "How did you know?"

He smiled sheepishly. "I try to keep track of you at least as well as you keep track of my things. I figure it's the least I can do to repay you for your patient tolerance of my shortcomings." As Harold regarded her with fond, penitent eyes, his smile faded into the look of smoldering seriousness that always made her heart beat faster. "May I join you, Madam Librarian?"

Though her consternation returned at his brazen request, Marian couldn't refuse him. Especially not when he removed his robe and stood before her in all his naked glory. A faint blush colored her cheeks – a blush that deepened as Harold climbed into the tub with her. Embarrassed, Marian turned away from her husband on the pretext of placing her eyeglass chain in the soap dish for temporary safekeeping, but when he wrapped his arms around her, she leaned back into his embrace.

"Darling, we're being awfully foolish," he said in his low, velvety voice.

"Yes, we are," she agreed with a rueful smile.

"And on our anniversary, too," he sighed, caressing her arms in a way that made her exhale heavily as well.

Since the night he had told her about the scar on his side, Marian had often enjoyed the luxury of lying thus entwined with Harold. But even though she was no longer shy about her husband seeing her unclothed, something about these particular circumstances sparked the old, familiar reticence within her. It seemed too wicked, what they were doing.

And yet, Marian couldn't bring herself to put an end to the situation. Especially not when Harold started nuzzling her neck. And when that nuzzling turned into soft kisses, she found herself melting even more into his embrace, even as she apprehensively wondered just how far he was planning to take things.

Indeed, it wasn't long before Harold put two fingers under her chin and turned her face to his. "Marian… " he breathed, the longing evident in his eyes.

"Harold!" she gasped, scandalized. Before now, their ardor had been limited solely to the bedroom. And in her innocence, Marian had never even considered other places. But as she gazed warily at her husband's mischievous expression, it suddenly became clear to her that he had been waiting for just such an opportunity.

As if he could read her thoughts, Harold grinned and tightened his embrace. "I did tell you I intended to make love to you in every room of this house… "

In the searing kiss that followed, Marian soon forgot her objections. But for several weeks after the evening of their three-month anniversary, she couldn't look at the bathtub or even enter their washroom without blushing furiously crimson.