Fred panned the surrounding Tennesee mountains, Daphne being the center focus of the shot, yammering on about the history of the local area. He was trying so hard to focus, he really was, but he couldn't help mentally veering off, drifting away to more pleasant memories. Like the one in the hotel bathroom. A personal favorite recollection of his…well, most of it.

Daphne's lips were as hungry as his own, her soft whimpers and harsh pants encouraging him faster. How she looked at him in those final seconds before release, as if he was precious to her. His heart ache afterward when she spurned his attempt to vocalize his love. The hurt in his chest growing when she insisted that they should remain only friends. Then, to prove a platonic point, she had gently pushed him away and went back to cleaning herself at the sink, as if the past ten minutes had been nothing more then a simple handshake.

That specific incident had been two months ago. Fred hadn't known then, but it was the start of an intensely erotic and confusing cycle. One that left him craving more, and at the same time wishing he could just walk away. It was becoming emotionally exhausting.

Without fail, the sequence would begin in the same manner, initiated by either him or Daphne. The slightest touches of the hand or back, ones that could possibly be called accidental. Then later, growing to a soft caress of an arm, or a flirtatious quip when no one else was around. The tension building over a period of days, growing tighter and tighter until one them eventually snapped.

They would both end up grinding against each other, tearing clothes off, lips ravenous. When the cycle was at it's peak, they didn't care about where they were, only of the quickest way to get skin to skin.

Fred grinned to himself, remembering the various places they'd desperately grabbed at one another in the past few weeks…

Daphne seizing him by the lapel of his coat, pulling him in for a deep kiss under the stars in a deserted national park. He remembers being mindful of the sticks and pebbles on the ground beneath her back…

Him pressing her roughly up against a brick wall in the alleyway of a seedy bar, hidden by the shadows of a blown out lamplight. Her cries drowned out by the band playing inside, his grunts muffled with his face buried in her neck...

Daphne straddling him across the bench seat of the van, both trying not to giggle in between pants and moans because of the lack of space. He had a good knot on his head for days when he'd rocked against the driver's side door mid-coitus...

Him rasping on about how beautiful she is while he worked against her body. His words of affection being cut short when her mouth silenced him as he took Daphne quickly on top of her own desk at the office...

Those were Fred's favorite parts, but soon after came the worst end of the cycle. The one that left him with a deep hurt everytime. He would try to give voice to his feelings, to empty his whole heart, but as predictable as the four seasons, she would cover his mouth or shush him. The spectacular finale was when she would utter her guilt-ladden request, "Are we still friends?"

Always friends.

Only friends.

And like the helpless lovesick man he was, unable to tell Daphne no, he gave in each time. Nodding his head, agreeing to be nothing else. They weren't lovers, they weren't boyfriend and girlfriend, they weren't soul mates. Per Daphne's insistence, they were still just good friends.

Yet, when she held him tight during those passionate moments, kissing him soundly, clinging to him tight as pleasure rocked through her body…he could easily pretend that they were more.

Daphne's annoyed tone cut through Fred's memories, bringing him back. "Fred, are you even listening to me?"

He shook the thoughts from his head, "I am now, Daph. Sorry."

"I said it's getting chilly up here. Let's cut for the night," she whined, rubbing her arms through the purple jacket.

"Yeah, it is a little nippy," Fred agreed, feeling the prickles of cold air blow through his white coat.

"Let's go to that old restaurant in town, warm up a bit," she said, hooking her arm comfortably with his and walking towards the van.

XXXXXX

Fred came out of the bathroom, rubbing his wet hands on the sides of his jeans. It never ceased to amaze him how many restaurants were perpetually out of paper tow -

He froze mid-thought as he glanced across the dining area at their table, noticing an unfamiliar mustached man sitting in his seat.

His seat. Next to Daphne. Chatting her up. Worst yet, she actually seemed to be enjoying the company. His hands instinctively balled into fists at his side.

Fred eyed the stranger's hand as he reached into the breast pocket of his finely tailored suit and handed Daphne a pen and a business card. She scribbled on a napkin, handing it to the unknown guy with a smile. A smile she usually reserved only for him. The offending individual winked in her direction, saying something that made Daphne laugh out loud, her green eyes shining bright.

A jealous fire burned through him then. He knew he had no right to be possessive, no actual "claim" to her. Likewise, she had not voiced any monogamous loyalty to him, but this did not damper his rapidly growing ire. He just thought, that maybe…maybe, she wouldn't want anyone else.

When the man finally walked away, Fred let out a deep breath that he hadn't even known he'd been holding. He took his seat then, not even trying to disguise the bitterness in his voice.

"Well?" He asked, crossing his arms.

Daphne took a sip of her long island iced tea, looking slightly guilty. "Well, what?"

"Who was that?"

She stirred her drink absently, "His name is Ross Harwood. He recognized me from the show and offered to give a tour of his moonshine distillery."

Fred piqued a blonde eyebrow, "When? We're already booked and we still have the old downtown to cover."

A deep blush crept up her cheeks at his words and she looked away from him, "It would be…a private tour. Just me."

Despite hearing her say it with his own ears, he couldn't quite comprehend her meaning. "Like a date?"

She intentionally didn't answer his question, and silently picked at a tomato in her salad.

XXXXXX

"A date, Daphne? Really?"

She stood next to the cheap hotel mirror, smoothing on fresh lipstick, "It's not that big of a deal, Fred."

At least, it shouldn't be.

Dinner had remained quiet and strained, the tension increasing once they were back in the privacy of their shared hotel room.

Fred's hair was messy, due to him continually running his hands through it, "I know we've never said anything…about…what's between us. But, I thought it was special. An unspoken thing."

Daphne closed her lips on a tissue to rid of excess lipstick, trying to hide her face from him. She didn't want Fred to see that it had been special for her too. Their passionate moments had meant a lot to her, actually. Couldn't he understand that that in itself was the problem?

She bit back how she really felt, trying to cover it up with a haughty attitude. "We agreed that we aren't together, Freddie. I don't see the problem. I can date anyone I want, and so can you."

"I don't want anyone else," he growled, gritting his teeth.

Daphe tried to ignore the flutter in her heart caused by the sincerity of his words. When she wasn't able to bear the pressure of his stare any longer, she turned to the mirror again to freshen up her mascara, "Don't you have to finish those edits from the cave tour we went on? Joran's been pestering me about it all week."

Fred's gaze narrowed and his jaw tensed. "Sure, I'll get right on it boss," he said, words dripping with venom, "Anything else I can do for you, Miss Blake?"

She refused to give in to his goading and continued putting on her make-up with a straight face and a well-practiced hand. When she heard Fred leave the room, slamming the door behind him, she had to blink back the tears for fear of it smudging.