Niles cursed Miss Babcock once again as he changed positions for the tenth time in as many minutes. Parts of him now ached that he never knew could, in fact, ache. When she left the living room after their spat, he'd dozed off. That twenty minute cat nap unfortunately proved to be the only substantial sleep he managed before she unceremoniously woke him up and insisted he stay out of sight and out of mind in her guest room.
Under normal circumstances, the bed would've been perfectly adequate and he might have welcomed the prospect of a quiet sanctuary for himself whilst being trapped within Miss Babcock's turf. The large knot toward the left side of his head and the sprained right ankle, though, presented quite a challenge. No matter which way he shifted, some part of his body lodged a protest against it.
Why couldn't that witch just let him be?
While he knew that, ultimately, a couch was probably not the best sleeping arrangement, at least her low-backed sofa allowed him to doze without disturbing either of his injuries. The inevitable crick in the neck might have been worth it.
He sighed as he wiggled into yet another position he knew wouldn't work for him. His mind wandered through all the events of that evening that led to his fall.
If only he'd sat there longer in the car.
Oh, who was he kidding? In a battle to prove who was more stubborn, they'd still be parked at the curb right now with the snow piling up around them.
But at least he'd still have his physical health.
No, he thought, the moment he might change if he could revise any of his decisions would be to not insist upon changing out of his tuxedo before hauling her across Manhattan. If he hadn't purposely dawdled just to annoy her further, perhaps that patch of sidewalk wouldn't have been so slick yet.
At least that decision left him with a set of comfortable clothes, he supposed.
Better yet, he should've called her a cab and let her be the Taxi and Limousine Commission's problem instead.
He yawned. Truth be told, he could come up with 'what if' scenarios all the way back to the idea of shutting the door in her face when she showed up for her interview with Mr. Sheffield almost sixteen years ago. It wouldn't change his unfortunate circumstances now.
With that glum thought, sleep finally overtook him.
C.C. groaned as her alarm blared at 3:30 AM and burrowed her face further into her pillow for a moment. Only her desire to not be held responsible for a potentially comatose blob o' butler compelled her to drag herself out of bed at such an unholy hour to check on him.
Squinting against the light in the hallway, she put on her robe as she shuffled her way to the guest room door down the hall and knocked on the door. She received no response.
With an impatient huff, she opened the door and peeked inside. The rise and fall of his chest under the covers made her feel better.
"Niles," she whispered.
Nothing.
This time she drew it out. "Niles..."
Still no signs of awareness.
She frowned. A small kernel of panic popped in her chest. What if he had slipped into a coma?
"Niles?" she raised her voice a little louder and stepped further into the room.
Nope.
Maybe if she tried something a little more annoying?
Affecting her best impression of Nanny Fine's impressive nasally whine, she sang out, "Ni-yuuules!"
At that, his brow creased and he almost pouted as he receded deeper into the bed covers.
"Not now, Miss Fine," he whined in his sleep.
Partly relieved, but mostly just just too amused that it worked, she muffled a laugh behind her hand and crossed over to his bedside.
"Hey, Mop 'N Glow, wake up!"
To that, he just grunted.
Entertaining as this was, she wanted to go back to bed at some point, so she leaned down until her lips were mere inches from his ear and took a deep breath.
"NILES!"
She swore he jumped at least six inches above the mattress as he yelped and sat straight up in the bed.
"What do you want, you water-retaining sea cow?" he howled.
"Oh, nothing. I just wanted to make sure you hadn't died in your sleep," she said with a none-too-innocent smile.
"Ugh, if only I were..." He drew a slow, deep breath and buried his face in his hands. "I think I'm going to be ill."
C.C. took a few swift steps backward and frantically looked for a wastebasket. Spying one in the corner, she grabbed it and placed it next to the bed.
"You will clean up after yourself if you do. And heaven help you if you hurl all over my white carpet."
The heat from the loathing glare he sent her contained enough power to keep her fireplace burning for the rest of winter. "You'll have no one else to blame if I do! You're the one who chose to wake me up by roaring in my face. Your bad breath makes me nauseous."
She crossed her arms. "Fine. Next time, I won't wake you up. I'll practice my face painting skills on you...and I'll use something a little more permanent than shoe polish."
"Just go away, Babcock. And turn down the heat."
"How can you possibly be too warm? If anything, it's too cold."
"Figures I';d end up imprisoned by the Heat Miser," he groused. "Can I at least have something for my headache?"
"Anything to make you quit whining."
By the time she returned with a couple pills and a glass of water, he was already half asleep again.
Shortly after ten that morning, the she-beast invaded again. This time, she brought food.
Luckily, he woke up easier than he had earlier that morning, though her method was no less rude.
"God, Niles, put some clothes on!"
After she made it clear her thermostat would remain locked in at boiling lava degrees, he'd stripped out of his t-shirt and kicked off all the blankets save for one sheet.
Just to make her uncomfortable, he let that sheet slide just a bit further down his chest as he sat up. It gave him a grim sort of satisfaction to see how it flustered her as she tried not to look too closely at him while offering him a plateful of sliced apples and bananas.
Still fairly nauseated and somehow even more sore than ever before, he gave fruit she a dubious glance.
"It's what Angelica gives me for breakfast when I'm not feeling well," she said with a shrug.
"You mean when you're hungover."
She sneered at him for a moment before looking away and mumbling, "Po-tay-to, po-tah-to..."
He elected to ignore the food, instead taking a sip from the glass of water already placed on the nightstand. Scooping up the two tablets he found there as well and swiftly washing them down, he slid back down on the mattress.
"When can I go home?"
The incredulous look on her face made Niles' stomach knot with dread.
"You do realize that that there's already ten inches on the ground and it's still coming down, right?"
He gestured to the closed curtains.
She crossed the room and yanked them open.
That...was a terrible, terrible mistake, he realized. White, bright light filled the room, making his skull feel like it was being pierced by a knife.
He threw his sheet over his head and moaned.
Babcock chuckled and redrew the curtains. "At least I got you to cover back up. I have no desire to see your 'Tiny Tim,' Niles."
"I told you it was too warm in here."
"Fine, I'll set you in the chair from my office and wheel you out onto the balcony. That'll cool you off. Especially if I just leave you there."
"I want to go home!"
"By all means, if you think you can make it nine streets over in 40 mile per hour winds with all that snow blowing in your face, be my guest. With that bum ankle, my money's on you turning into a butler-sicle, though."
"Don't tempt me."
"Maybe I will. Tell me, am I in you will?" she laughed.
"Babcock, I wouldn't leave you my dirtiest rags."
"I'm hurt, Niles," she said, pressing her hand to her chest in pretend shock. "Not even a half used bottle of Windex?"
"Get. Out."
She did.
He never would admit it, but the fruit did help.
The rest of the day passed quietly.
She checked in on him a few more times throughout the day, but mostly, he slept. Considering how he growled at her when he was awake, she felt it was for the best. She spent her day working through the files she brought home. Somehow she doubted she'd be able to get much done once he finally got passed the worst of his concussion. She tried to leave glasses of water and more medicine during the spells when he seemed to be sleeping more soundly.
It was nearing nine when she heard his door open. Looking up, she watched as he limped into the living room and settled opposite of her on the sofa. She noted that he seemed much more relaxed than he'd been even before he tried to use her building's sidewalk as a makeshift skating rink.
"Feel better?"
"Much. The headache finally went away."
"Good, because you weren't about to win Miss Congeniality with that sparkling personality you had before it did."
He chuckled at that, and for the first time since the accident, she felt her own tension ease.
"Hungry?"
"Only if the food you serve doesn't involve a processed frozen dinner."
"I can cook, Niles. I don't depend upon your poisons alone for nourishment, you know." She knew he doubted her and it made her want to prove herself to him.
"Oh, yeah? This I've gotta see. Prove it."
"I will. How does breakfast for dinner sound?"