(Niles POV)
Never before had Niles been so humiliated. How could he have been so stupid? In an effort to remain casual around the woman he loved, he'd walked into the kitchen where she was preparing dinner.
"Can I be of assistance?" He'd asked as nonchalantly as possible.
Her sweet smile warmed his heart. "No, no. I'm handling things just fine, Dr. Crane. But you're welcome to keep me company."
"So, how's Dad's therapy going?" He asked, placing his hands on the counter behind him. He could barely hear her response as he attempted to push himself onto the counter, intending on sitting on it. But to his horror, he failed to notice the oven vent above his head. There was a loud bang followed by a burst of pain as his head hit the vent. He fell off the counter and in doing so fell foreword, hitting his forehead on the refrigerator. And finally he landed flat on the floor.
Daphne gasped and grabbed some ice from the freezer, placing it in a towel. And then shed dropped to her knees and sat beside him, cradling him in her arms. In the most loving manner possible, she stroked his forehead and gently laid the ice-filled towel against his head. He could feel the knot beginning to form, but he could barely feel the pain as he looked into her beautiful eyes. It was as though he'd died and gone to heaven.
"Do you think you can get up?" She asked as she stroked his cheek.
The touch of her fingers made him weak and he stared into her beautiful brown eyes. "No, no… I'm thinking that I should stay here for a few minutes." He replied.
In response, she smiled. "All right..."
"Niles, what are you doing?"
Frasier's voice startled him and he looked up to find his older brother glaring at him from above.
"Your brother hit his head on the oven vent and went crashing to the floor!" Daphne said. When Niles groaned in pain (genuine pain), she pulled him closer and stroked his cheek. "Will you be all right?"
"He and his ego will be just fine!" Frasier snapped. "Dear God, Niles! You are shameless!"
Dizzily, he rose from the floor and stood, yanked out of the kitchen by Frasier's firm grasp. But not before Daphne handed him a towel filled with ice and smiled. "Here, Dr. Crane. Put this on your head."
He followed Frasier into the living room and sat down at the table, ready for a discussion about who knows what. And it hardly mattered anyway because he had no intention of listening. His injuries had been cared for by an angel and the thought made him feel like he could fly. He hoped that in time he'd be able to return the favor.