Disclaimer: I still don't own the characters or show.
Fran was not a morning person. Well, not unless there was a sale at Bloomingdale's or Loehmann's involved. But after last night, she was up early — hair done, makeup flawless, outfit snug in all the right places because she had a mission — confront Mr. Sheffield about that dream.
He was already hiding from her. She knew it the second Niles informed her that he had taken his toast and scurried off to his office before she even got downstairs and she was early this time. She wasn't the least bit surprised. When she had walked in on him in the shower, he also tried to avoid her for a week even after she assured him he had nothing to be embarrassed about based on what she saw. And in fact, the same could be said for last night, she thought to herself.
She sauntered down the hall, heels clicking like a countdown. The door to his office was slightly ajar, and through the gap, she could hear him muttering.
"You're a grown man. You can face her. She probably didn't even notice."
Fran knocked once then let herself in anyway. "Oh, I definitely noticed."
Maxwell nearly dropped his tea.
Fran closed the door behind her with a little smirk, her arms crossing over her chest as she leaned against it. "You've been avoiding me all morning."
"I haven't been avoiding you," He said a bit too quickly. "I simply… had a lot of work to catch up on."
She nodded slowly. "Mmm. Let me guess — a very hard workload?"
His ears turned pink. "Miss Fine!"
"So it's just a coincidence you decided to have breakfast in here instead of the dining room with the kids and me like you do every morning," She inquired, taking slow steps toward his desk. "... especially after I walked in on you moaning my name in your sleep?"
Maxwell choked on his tea.
"Don't worry, Mr. Sheffield," Fran replied, perching herself on the corner of his desk, legs crossed, "I didn't take it personally."
He turned a shade of red that did not go with his tie. "Fran, I— It wasn't— That is to say—"
"Oh, relax," She teased, tilting her head. "It's not like I'm gonna go blabbing to the kids that their father was having a very vivid dream involving the nanny."
Maxwell dropped his forehead into his hand with a groan.
Fran softened, reaching out and brushing his shoulder. "Hey, it's okay. Seriously. I know you have absolutely no control over your subconscious…"
Then she pulled the lipstick out of her bra that she stole back from him last night and applied it to her lips slowly, seductively.
She heard him audibly gasp - it was quiet but noticeable. He watched the tube in her fingers and stared as she applied it to her lips.
He was wondering where the lipstick went. He had looked everywhere for it when he woke up, under the pillows, under the bed, under the nightstand. He was sure he had misplaced it but here it was and boy did it look like absolute perfection on her lips…
"Just tell me, was I wearing this?"
Her eyes met his and she noticed he pulled his lower half further under the desk quickly.
"I - uh, I don't really remember…"
"Are you sure?" She asked again teasingly, adding one last flick of her wrist worth of lipstick before popping the cap back down.
This was an incredibly inappropriate conversation and he needed to get the conversation back on track. He was feeling utterly flustered, wildly conflicted, and dangerously close to forgetting every ounce of propriety he'd ever been raised with. His heart raced, his palms were clammy, and somewhere deep down, a traitorous part of him didn't want the conversation to get back on track at all.
He cleared his throat and tried to find his footing. "Miss Fine, this is all just a— a silly misunderstanding. I didn't mean to— That is, I wasn't trying to— I didn't know I was dreaming, obviously. Dreams are a product of stress. Purely psychological. It has absolutely no bearing on—on—reality."
"Mmm," She responded. Since pulling himself further toward the desk, she was now close enough that he could smell her perfume — the same one from the dream.
"So you didn't say, dream about me only wearing this?" She asked, holding up the tube of lipstick before slipping it back into her bra, a little too slowly as his gaze followed.
"Is it warm in here?" He pulled at his tie to loosen it.
She grinned, pleased with herself. "So you do remember!"
"I didn't— I mean, maybe parts of it… vaguely…" He muttered, eyes darting anywhere but her lips, mind swirling with every detail of that dream.
"I don't want this to — You must think I'm —" What must she think of him after last night?
She didn't let him complete the sentence.
"Are you kidding me? I think it's flattering," She said with a smile, waving her hands in that typical Flushing way of brushing off any indication she was offended. "I mean, you're a handsome, successful man. I'm a hot, vivacious woman with legs for days and a wardrobe that could stop traffic on Fifth Avenue. Honestly, I'm surprised it didn't happen sooner."
Maxwell let out a strangled laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "You make it sound so... inevitable."
Fran leaned in just a little closer, enough to make him squirm in his chair as she readjusted his tie. "Oh, Mr. Sheffield, with all that pent-up British repression and me parading around in miniskirts every day? Please. It was only a matter of time before you lost control…"
He opened his mouth to argue but realized he didn't even have a decent defense. She was right — and worse, he didn't really want to argue. Not with her there looking like that. His eyes went back to her lips, admiring the bright red - the same color he imagined all over his body last night. It took everything in him not to lose control right there on his desk, throw her down, and have his way with her.
He gave a half-laugh, his ears still red. "You're taking this awfully well."
"Oh please. Mr. Sheffield, do you have any idea how many dreams I've had about you? If we kept a scoreboard, I'd be winning by at least twenty," She replied like it was nothing.
His eyes widened. "Really?"
He couldn't help but feel incredibly turned on at the thought of her dreaming about him like that. He had almost thought maybe she was the night he spent on the sofa with her, trying to keep her from shopping. "Yes…yes…Mmm I want it…Give it to me..." She had mumbled, clinging to his chest but then, "Does it come in Navy?" followed and his suspicions were instantly shattered, leaving him equal parts relieved and irrationally disappointed as he realized she was talking about clothes. He knew she had a crush on him but the confirmation she let her desires overtake her in her sleep, well, that was a whole different level of knowledge. And twenty!? How many different ways had this scenario played out exactly? It killed him to wonder…
She winked. "And some of them were way steamier than yours."
"Well, I don't know about that…" He muttered under his breath.
"What was that?" She asked, acting like she didn't catch it but she did.
"Oh, nothing…"
"One of mine even involved Häagen-Dazs," She added, trying to really get to him. The conversation was clearly killing him slowly but she also noticed a bit of intrigue as he raised an eyebrow and she couldn't help but laugh.
For a moment the air was thick with something unspoken but electric until she broke the silence.
"You know what?"
"What is that?" He replied.
"You're adorable when you're embarrassed."
He rolled his eyes and then she decided to really send this conversation home. She pulled the lipstick tube back out of her bra and set it on his desk right in front of him. "Thought I'd give this back to you." And with that, she hopped off his desk.
He couldn't help but laugh just a bit though he could still feel his face flush. "I can't return it now that you've used it," He pointed out.
Then differently but eerily close to what she had said in his dream, she replied, "I knew you'd keep it. Crave it."
Maybe she did have access to his mind after all… Who was he kidding? She had officially consumed it.
"Don't forget to dream about me," She added with a wink before she waltzed out the door. And it was at that very moment he knew he would never dream about anything else.
Author's Note: The Häagen-Dazs comment comes from Season 6, Episode 5 - A little something they act out once married that's referenced. Just in case you guys didn't catch that...
