A/N: A very short piece without real plot. The title says it all, really.

Niles doesn't know why he agreed to this. Sitting through a boring movie is bad enough. Having to pay for the experience is even worse. Of course there's a reason why he didn't even think of saying no. The reason is sitting right next to him: Daphne. 'Would you like to see a movie?' She'd asked him. 'Yes.' He'd answered without asking her which one. What did it even matter? As long as she is sitting next to him, the movie doesn't matter. Except it does. Because he can't keep staring at her. Twice she's caught him and with a smile asked him if everything was all right. Of course it wasn't. It never is.

The movie is one of those silly romantic ones. Niles marvels at Daphne's love for them. She's mesmerized by the moving pictures despite knowing that the two lead actors will get each other in the end. It's that kind of movie, after all. Niles is taken with the way she's sitting in the generous armchair; she reminds him of a young girl who doesn't want to let on how much the scenes on the screen actually touch her. She keeps sinking lower in her seat and somehow Niles does, too. It's not good for his back and he's most likely going to regret doing this later. Right now, though, his body just follows some age old pattern; a mind in love, a body no longer in control.

Days like today Niles can't help but wonder how he could have kept his secret for so long. As his eyes register the two characters on the screen kissing, his mind reminds him how close he is to Daphne. All he has to do is reach out his hand and touch her. It could be so easy. He could move his leg and accidentally brush against hers. He swears he can feel the heat emanating from her body. He's so close and still way too far away. The plot unfolding up there on the screen is completely forgotten as Niles feels the lack of touch everywhere on his body. Every fiber screams at him: touch her, just touch her. He doesn't. His leg doesn't move and neither does his hand. Daphne giggles and it's the perfect chance to turn and look at her. Her eyes reflect the romance they're watching; little hearts like stars shimmer there in the deep brown pools. He loves her eyes. Way too soon, she redirects her attention back to the screen. So Niles does the same. What else can he do? He entwines his own fingers to stop them from twitching. He's not going to touch her. Not now, not tonight.

How can she not feel this? He wonders despite himself. His every thought is infused with her. No matter what he thinks about, she always pops up. Simple tasks like figuring out what he's going to have for lunch turn into questions about Daphne; what is she doing at the moment? What is she thinking? He drifts off so many times a day just because of her. He's doing it right now even though she is next to him. So how can she sit there not knowing? Not feeling his misery when it seems so obvious? He could swear it's dripping from his pores just like sweat. He's sweating and bleeding his feelings for her. Yet, she sits there immersed in a fictional account of what they could be. Maybe.

"So what did you think?" The movie is over and Niles hardly notices it. The lights are still off as the credits roll with more cheesy music. She's looking at him and he can tell she loved it. It's written all over her face. He hopes the unshed tears he can see shimmering there are because she feels touched by the movie; not sad.

"It was great." He says.

"You don't really like movies like this, do you?" She smiles softly and she is not angry.

"They're not my favorite genre, no." I'd watch anything with you, though, he thinks and smiles back at her.

"Let's get out of here." Daphne tells him. The lights are still out and as Niles follows her outside, his fingers almost touch her. He feels the warmth and he is so close. She reaches the door and doesn't give him a chance to open it. Out in the light, Niles' eyes have to get used to the brightness first. His fingers still tingle, because he never made it; he didn't touch her and now it's too late.

"Thank you for coming with me, Dr. Crane. Even if it's not your cup of tea." In the end it's her; she takes his hand into hers and squeezes it gently. It's warm and it's soft and it's so full of affection.

"Next time you get to pick the movie." She tells him with a wink and what else can he do but laugh softly and agree with her?

When it comes to Daphne, he shoulders his misery and wears it gladly. As long as he can be close to her. Even if it's never close enough.

THE END