[A/N: Billions and billions of hugs and appreciation to the people who review this. You give me life. KB91, you make me feel like I can actually write? Kate811, you make me feel like you aren't a heap of garbage person. I love you all. Enjoy.]
Chapter 9
Won't somebody come on in and tug at my seams?
Oh, send your armies in of robbers and thieves
To steal the state I'm in, I don't want it anymore
CC leaned back in the theater seat, watching the dress rehearsal unfold. What a terrible week. No, scratch that: what a terrible month. Year. Life. Take your pick.
Her work held a small amount of responsibility for this. Normally, CC loved preparing for a new show. The more hectic it became, the more CC reveled in it. Her micromanagement paid off in the most gratifying way: a flawless opening night. But CC had never liked this script, she hated their "precocious" young leads, and, well, being knocked unconscious onstage very seldom boded well for a show.
Then the rewrites started, later than she usually ever allowed it, but the playwright demanded to be more involved than CC usually allowed, too. The actors had understandably balked at the changes, and CC was forced to put out more fires than she ever preferred to among the creative types.
But her job almost always wreaked havoc on her life. This was not new. But a caterer named Molly was, and CC frowned as she thought of her.
CC had almost enjoyed dinner with the caterer present. Watching Niles squirm and decide between playing nice for Molly and being himself with her had been the most fun she'd had in a while. A ruined blouse was a small price to pay.
But then the caterer had shown up the next day for lunch and had watched CC over Niles's shoulder as she'd kissed the butler. At first, she gave the girl credit—it was a ballsy move that she hadn't reckoned the caterer capable of. But then the kiss went on and CC wanted to throw up and claw out those horrible brown eyes.
The feeling passed, though, and CC Babcock rarely backed down. She recognized Molly's behavior as a demonstration, a performance of her relationship with Niles. All right, if the tiny woman wanted to play games, CC would beat her. So she'd sauntered into the kitchen, ready to pony up. She'd teased Niles, and to her pleasure, he'd responded as he was supposed to do. She even let her suit jacket gape open, revealing her slinky blouse beneath, and felt a thrill of victory as Niles's eyes trailed over her.
But the triumph fleeted and CC saw the caterer put her hand on the butler's neck and knew she couldn't stomach this much longer.
And then…and then…CC sighed. She'd never admit to still being able to feel Niles's thumb on her lips—just as she'd never confess to still feeling Niles's palm against her bare back during their drunken kiss—but it was there and it drove her crazy. These little hints and inklings of something more between them had always been confusing, but pleasantly so: a whisper of a promise of someday, maybe. But they were nearly unbearable when Niles had a girlfriend, she knew now. There was no whisper, just a cold reminder that he was taken.
Then the caterer pulled out her own trump card. She pitted herself against CC, made the butler choose between the two. And if CC had known that Niles had been serious when he'd asked what her thoughts were…
Well, CC still didn't know what she would have said. But still. Here the butler was again, asking for so much in such a simple way. What did he expect from her?
In her defense, CC thought as she shifted in the seat and placed her clipboard in her lap once more, she had never once thought that Niles was being serious. Perhaps he'd been serious about what Molly had requested, but she'd never thought that he would actually go along with it.
But the last week had passed and she realized that he was serious. She hadn't even seen him until Wednesday when he came in with a tea tray. Her head buried in a script, she hadn't even noticed he was there until he left. And for some terrible, likely stupid reason, she thought she might cry.
So she'd stood up, bottled and capped her emotions, and headed off to the theater. The house was his turf, anyway.
But even when Niles made himself busy in the rest of the house, probably cleaning rooms he hadn't cleaned in years, the rest of the house felt awkward. Nanny Fine and Niles evidently were not speaking, and from what CC could gather, Maxwell's reluctance to get involved only incensed the nanny further.
Now it was Friday, a full two weeks since she'd spoken to him, and CC felt the strain of spending almost the entire time at the theater. Despite Niles's regular pranks and Fran's regular interruptions, she realized that the manse was actually something of a reprieve from the chaotic theater. She wondered momentarily if this was how her life would be if she never spoke to Niles again.
"All right, take five," CC called out, ignoring that one of the actors was mid-soliloquy. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, and rubbed her eyes.
"Rehearsals going all right?" Maxwell's voice asked. She looked up and saw her business partner take the seat next to her.
CC shrugged. "They're off-script, finally."
Maxwell nodded. "You've done well here, with all of the changes and whatnot."
"Thank you," CC said, a little mollified. Maxwell rarely acknowledged her successes.
"Ah, look, CC, we don't normally discuss matters like these, but…is there something going on at the house?"
CC raised her eyebrows, quelling the urge to laugh. "What do you mean, Maxwell?"
"Well, Miss Fine isn't speaking to Niles, or myself, apparently, and Niles is nowhere to be found. Actually," Max amended, "I did find him before I left, washing the windows in the upstairs living room."
"Rubber Maid willingly washed windows?"
"Yes. That's when I realized something was amiss."
CC snorted this time; she couldn't help it. "Well, as far as I know, Niles's girlfriend told him to stop spending any time with me, Niles agreed, Nanny Fine didn't, and they had a fight. I'm not sure, but if I had to guess, she's angry with you for not stepping in."
Maxwell paused, taking it all in. "I understand the second half of what you said, but…Molly told Niles to stop spending time with you?"
CC nodded, glancing down at her clipboard.
"But that's…well, that's ridiculous!" Max said, chuckling uncomfortably.
"Ridiculous that she asked or ridiculous that Niles agreed?"
"Both, actually."
"I agree."
"I'm sorry, CC."
"For choosing to put on this terrible play? It's about time."
Maxwell frowned. "For the fifth time, I like this play and I think it'll do well, and that isn't what I was apologizing for."
CC nodded, hoping that the gesture would prevent him from continuing. It didn't.
"I know that you and Niles are…well…I know that he's…"
CC smirked. "That's about as far as I can get, too."
"I know that he's something to you, and you're something to him," Maxwell settled on. "It's unfortunate that it's come to this."
"Thanks, Max." He was right: they very seldom discussed personal matters, mostly because he was British and she, a WASP, and dealing with emotions wasn't either of their strong suits.
"I'm sure it'll all work out," he said heartily.
CC smiled at him, pretending to believe him, and wrangled the actors back on stage again. They settled into a thankful silence as they watched the dress rehearsal continue.
Even if it did work out, what did working out look like? CC didn't know how to figure any of this crap out. Her life would be so much simpler if the butler didn't mean anything to her. Bright side, CC reasoned, was that she might get a chance to make that a reality if he planned on ignoring her for the duration of his relationship with the caterer.
The remainder of rehearsal passed smoothly enough that CC allowed everyone to go home for the day, and she began toying with the idea of returning to her penthouse, ordering takeout, and indulging in a bath when Maxwell asked if she could return to the office and look over the budget projections once more.
After sharing a cab, they arrived at his home and walked through the living room. CC paused as she saw Fran pouting on the couch; Maxwell, hearing the office phone ringing, hurried inside to answer it.
"What's the problem, Nanny Fine?" CC asked.
"Oh, nothing," Fran sniffed. "It's just, Niles and I always watch our soaps together and he didn't watch them with me at all this week and Nina's wedding was today! We've been looking forward to this all winter!"
"I'm sorry," CC said awkwardly. "Was it a nice wedding?"
Fran looked at CC in disbelief. "Miss Babcock, the wedding started today. The only thing that happened was that all the characters drove to it. It's May Sweeps!"
CC pretended as though all of those words meant anything to her. "I see. That's…unfortunate. I can't believe the butler is still mad at you."
Fran rolled her eyes. "Oh, he's so stubborn. To tell the truth, I think he's more mad that I stuck up for you than for disagreeing with his girlfriend."
"You…you stuck up for me?" CC asked.
"Well, he asked for my advice, and I gave it, and I said she had no right blaming you because you didn't do anything wrong."
"Damn right! Well, good for you, Nanny Fine. It isn't your fault that Mr. Clean didn't like what you had to say."
"You're right," Fran said, standing up and stomping her foot. "He shouldn't ask for advice if he doesn't really want it."
"And he shouldn't listen to some stupid caterer when she blames me for the shortcomings in their relationship."
"Oh, ya know, Niles didn't tell me anything about their sex life, actually," Fran said conspiratorially.
CC looked at her confusedly and then snapped her head up when she saw Niles enter the foyer from the hall. "Oh, no, Nanny Fine, I'd better go—I wouldn't want anyone to get in trouble."
Fran turned around and saw Niles. She tsked and left in the direction of the staircase while CC headed for the office.
CC perked up back inside the office. She'd never ganged up on Niles with Nanny Fine before, and it proved to be a real bolster to her mood. For once, the household wasn't against her: Fran defended her, Maxwell (in his own British way) expressed his disapproval, and the butler was the one on the outside. This was…well, this was damn near phenomenal!
With a bounce in her step at the end of the day, CC left the office and smirked when she saw the flaps of Niles's suit jacket whip around the corner of the hallway. A nasal snort told CC that Fran had heard it, too.
"I don't know how he expects this to work," Fran told CC, rolling her eyes. She flipped to another page in her magazine.
"Forget the butler. Let's go out, Nanny Fine," CC suggested.
Fran looked up from the glossy images, her eyes wide. "Out? Like in public?"
"Sure. We could get dinner! Sushi was fun, wasn't it?" CC asked.
"Eh…yeah. Fun. Maybe we could just get drinks," Fran said.
"You don't want to get food?"
"And appetizers. Maybe we could split an entrée. And a dessert. I could go for a cup of soup. And—"
"All right, let's figure that out after we get there," CC suggested.
Five hours, four martinis, three shops, two bars, and one entrée later, CC sat forward on her bar stool and declared, "And you know another thing about Niles?"
Fran brandished a half-eaten onion ring at CC, a cascade of curls covering one eye. "Miss Babs, you said we were gonna forget Niles."
"Did I? I think you're wrong. Anyway, the other thing I hate—" CC continued, reaching for her martini and finding it empty. "When did I drink this?"
Fran narrowed her eyes at the glass and then glanced down at her hand. "When did we order onion rings?"
"We didn't."
Fran cackled and ate it anyway, slurping down some more of her colorful, sweet drink. "Ok, so, what were you sayin' about Niles?"
CC paused and tried to remember what else she was going to say. Having failed, she tried to remember the other things she'd said about him that evening. She scratched her cheek before replying, "I…well, I hate him. I just hate him, Nanny Fine."
"Ya keep saying that," Fran said, shaking her head and finishing her drink. "You sure talk about someone you hate a whoooole lot.
"Because he's infuriating!" CC protested, making what in her mind resembled a logical argument.
"All right, fine, but if he hates you, why did his girlfriend—" CC made a retching sound "—tell him to stop seeing you? Makes. No. Sense."
"Ugh, Nanny Frine, can we stop talking about Niles?" CC asked, rolling her eyes. She signaled to the bartender to refill both of their drinks.
"Then stop bringin' him up!" Fran exclaimed. She crumpled her face again. "Did you call me Frine?"
"Fine!"
"I know, that's my last name."
"No, I meant ok, we'll stop talking about Niles, Fine."
"Speaking of Niles, do you think you'll really never talk to him again?"
CC grinned fetchingly at the bartender as he set two new drinks on their bar table and took the empty ones away. "Talk to who?"
"Niles."
"Ugh, I hate that man."
"I know," Fran groused, rolling her eyes. "But do you think it'll really work? You guys not seeing each other? Eva?"
"I don't know. I haven't talked to him in two weeks," CC said a little sadly.
"Pheh, don't you get sad about him," she told CC bracingly. "You're better than that. Who's he think he is, huh?"
"Cheers," CC said heartily. They missed each other's glass but didn't seem to notice or care.
"It's lucky my drink doesn't have any alcohol in it or I'd be a mesh right now," Fran slurred.
CC stared at the nanny, her gaze steady if her posture swayed slightly. "Your drink has alcohol in it."
"It does?" Fran shrieked, her eyes popping. All at once, she calmed, shrugged, and took another sip through her straw. "Good thing I've only had two, then."
"That," CC said, pointing in the general direction of Fran's drink, "is your fifth."
"Five!" Fran exclaimed. As if suddenly realizing how drunk she was, Fran whimpered and set her forehead against the table. "I wanna go home."
CC pat the top of her head consolingly. "All right, let's go." She stumbled over to the bartender and handed him her credit card, nodding when he asked if she'd like him to call a cab. She signed the receipt in something that slightly resembled her handwriting and went back to their table. Polishing off her martini, she nudged Fran, who gave a loud snore.
"Lightweight," CC muttered to herself as she poked Fran, hard, in the side.
The nanny yelped and sat up so quickly that she nearly toppled over in the other direction. CC grabbed onto her, getting a good amount of her hair, and kept her still.
"Come on. The barman called a taxi," CC told her.
"Ooh, who went shopping?" Fran asked, her eyes half-closed, as she took in the bags around their chairs.
"We did, I think," CC said, glancing down at herself. "Huh. When did I put this on?" The yellow empire-waist sundress suited her, no doubt, but it didn't look like anything CC would ever put on herself willingly.
Fran squinted at her. "Aw, Miss Babcock, you look adorable! You've got great taste."
"I think this is your taste."
"Nah, I'm not into that stuff," Fran said, waving her off. She grabbed as many bags as she could carry and staggered off in the wrong direction. CC scooped up the remaining bags and hooked Fran's elbow, swinging her towards the exit.
They sat side-by-side in the cab of the taxi, CC vacillating between happy drunk and angry drunk. She should've stuck to dark liquors, she told herself as she rested her head against the seat. Vodka made her too unpredictable.
"Ya know what," Fran said, suddenly opening her eyes and sitting forward.
"What?"
"What?"
"You talked first."
Fran looked at CC as though she were crazy and lay back against the seat again, resting her head on CC's shoulder. A few moments later, she shot up again. "Ya know what?"
CC rolled her eyes. "What?"
"You should go talk ta Niles," Fran told her, nodding knowledgably.
"I'm not s'posed to," CC mumbled, closing her eyes again.
"No, no, ya need ta stand up and give him a piece a your mind," Fran encouraged, nodding and leaning back against the seat once more.
"Yeah!" CC said, liquid fire incinerating any vestiges of sadness that she'd never admit to, anyhow.
"Yeah!"
"Yeah!" CC cried heartily. The taxi stopped outside of the Sheffield manse and she tossed a handful of cash through the opening in the partition.
"Ooh, he's cute," Fran said, leaning back into the taxi.
"Oh, no, you don't," CC told her, pushing her out of the way and closing the door behind her, the many shopping bags almost upsetting her balance.
"He was cute!" Fran protested.
"Fanny Nine, you're hung up enough on the guy in there," CC reminded her, pointing towards the front door.
"Niles?" Fran said, breaking up into raucous laughter. "Nah, Babsy, that's you."
"That's me what?" CC asked as the two women staggered towards the front door.
"Heh?" Fran asked as she dug into her tiny purse, rattling her keys as her hand continued missing them. Unearthing them, Fran held up the mess of metal and bright, furry things in confusion.
CC rolled her eyes again, grabbing the keys, locating the correct one, and sliding it into the lock on her third try. She pushed open the door, nudging Fran in ahead of her, and closed the door behind her, proud of herself for remembering to lock it.
"Where are you going?" CC asked as Fran tottered over to the couch and dropped facedown onto it, her calves dangling over the arm. Fran made no response so CC dropped the shopping bags near the small table and peered over the couch. "Nanny? Are you awake?" CC shook her head when Fran responded with a small snore.
In the dim light—of course Niles remembered to turn on a light for Fran, she mused—CC made her way to the staircase, taking each step carefully and purposefully. She reached the top of the stairs, her purse clutched in her hand, and wondered for several minutes which way it was to the guest rooms. She stepped down one hallway and, encountering a fork, turned right. She had a vague feeling that the children's and Nanny Fine's rooms were to the left while the guest rooms and servant's quarters were to the right.
"Guest room…guest room…" she muttered to herself. Why didn't this overdone museum of a house have placards declaring what each room was? She made a mental note to suggest that to Maxwell on Monday. Niles would know what each room held, even if he didn't clean all of them as he should have.
"Horrible servant," CC said, a surge of anger and sadness blooming in her. She chose to focus on the anger.
"Guest room?" CC asked herself as she paused in front of a door. Further down the hall, she could see another hallway leading to the left (to Maxwell's room, she believed) and, at the very end, the back staircase to the kitchen.
CC reached forward, grasping the cold bronze doorknob and turning it. Another dim light met her eyes, but in CC's drunken haze, it felt much brighter than necessary. Why was the light on in the guest room?
"Babcock?" that hateful, beautiful voice asked. Dimly she saw him removing a pair of glasses and setting them atop an open book that he'd left on his bed.
"Why are you in the guest room?" CC demanded with a surprising amount of boldness, given her appearance and state.
Now he stood in front of her, thankfully blocking some of the light from his bedside lamp, and CC blinked, taking him in. Why was the butler so underdressed?
"This is my room," Niles told her.
"You sleep in the guest room?"
"Bloody hell, woman, you smell like a distillery."
CC gave him her haughtiest glare and straightened her posture fully. "And you smell of a variety of beach-blased cleaning products, but I wasn't gonna say anything."
"Beach-blased?"
"Yeah."
"You mean bleach-based?"
"That's what I said, janitor."
"Ok, woman, let's get you to the guest room," Niles said, stepping forward just as CC lunged forward with an exaggerated gasp. She covered his eyes with her right hand, while her left forearm rested against his chest. She settled her fingers against his collarbone. She silently admitted to herself, grudgingly, that his current fragrance did not seem beach-blased.
She leaned forward and, in her inebriated state, assumed she was still at a reasonable distance. In fact, she stood closer to him than she had in weeks.
"Babcock, what are you doing—"
"Sshhh," she shushed dramatically, her head falling forward and her lips landing in the crook of his laugh lines. She spoke again, her lips moving tantalizingly close to the edge of his own, "'S against the rules, Niles. Can't see me."
They stood there for an amount of time, an amount CC found herself unable to calculate as she let her eyes drift shut and thought that this, right here, wasn't too terrible of a place to fall asleep.
Then Niles reached forward, placed both hands on her waist, and gently pushed her away. "The guest room is that way."
CC forced her eyes open and started when she saw that Niles's eyes were no longer covered. "Niles, you aren't s'posed to see me."
He gave a heavy sigh. "It's fine, Miss Babcock. The guest room is down—"
"Speaking of, your nanny is mad at you."
"Oh?" Niles said, and though CC's energy dissipated from her quickly, she could tell Niles was perhaps even more tired than she was.
CC nodded. "Yeah. Yeah. She said I should give you a piece of my mind."
"Well, go on. It can't take that long, I don't imagine there are many pieces left."
CC laughed the way she usually wanted to when he insulted her. It rang out, louder than she realized (she'd had five martinis, after all). When she finished laughing, she leaned against the doorframe and let her eyes slip shut again. This may not be as comfortable as the butler's face, but CC felt she could probably sleep just as well here.
She jumped, startled, when she felt a hard poke in her stomach. "Hey!"
"Go to sleep, Babcock," Niles told her. Was he smiling?
"I'm trying to!" CC objected, walking forward once more.
He reached out and grasped her waist again, this time not letting go. "We've already established that this is my room."
She peered at him inquisitively. "You sleep in the guest room?"
"It's late," Niles told her.
"I know. Why are you still awake?"
"A certain blonde baboon is keeping me up."
"That's not nice, Niles," CC admonished. "You shouldn't be talking to me at all, you know. Your girlfriend wouldn't like it." A look of distaste crossed her face.
Niles sighed again. "Let's not discuss—"
"She's nice, Niles."
"I…y-yes…"
"So nice," CC sighed, looking down and realizing his hands were still on her. So warm. "Like Nanny Fine. Such nice women."
"I suppose…"
"I'm not nice," CC said suddenly, pushing Niles's hands away. "Am I?"
"Not typically, no," Niles replied.
CC looked at him, her face bare. She reflected regretfully that she was now officially sad drunk. "I guess it makes sense why she's your type. Nice 'n all."
"That isn't what I meant," Niles muttered.
"'n makes sense why you'd agree," CC continued, yawning.
"Agree to what?"
CC rolled her eyes and regretted it at once; it sent her head reeling. "Not talking to me 'nmore." CC looked at him, sizing him up. "Ashamed of you, Niles, didn't think you'd let a girl boss you around."
"I let you boss me around for fifteen years," Niles pointed out.
CC chuckled, though to her ears, it sounded more like a giggle. Only CC Babcock didn't giggle. Nice women like Fran and Molly did. "Didn't think you actually listened. I woulda given some better orders if I knew." She winked at him, or at least she thought she did; she might have just blinked purposefully.
"And there's the cue. Let's get you to bed, Babcock."
"Yeah, somethin' like that," CC teased, though Niles didn't seem to understand. He stepped out of his room and, keeping a steadying hand on the small of CC's back, guided her further down the hallway. He opened a door on the left, nudging her in and pulling the covers on the bed back. "Guest room?"
"Yes, Miss Babcock, the guest room," Niles said patiently.
CC's knees hit the edge of the mattress and she dropped willingly onto its soft surface, her eyes drifting shut.
"Not yet, woman," Niles grumbled, tugging her into the correct position and pulling her shoes off. CC sighed happily, her head nuzzling into the pillow.
Then it was dark—were her eyes closed or were all the lights off?—and she didn't know where Niles had went and found, in a hard punch of knowledge right in her gut, that she wished he hadn't left the room, or maybe it went deeper than that and she wished he'd never decided to find a stupid girlfriend in the first place, and dimly, the last thing she could make out right before she succumbed to sleep were the words slipping from her mouth like bits of silk, "I miss you."
