Title: Stetsons and Stilettos

Author: mcgarrylust (Melissa) CC/N, M/F

Rating: PG

Summary:

Notes: I tweaked two stories to come up with this one, and … the end result is a very strange combination of humor and odd romance. This is my first m/f story, or at least, to be posted, though it truly isn't solely m/f. I hereby pledge my true allegiance to my beloved N/CC pairing, but I also wanted to do something nice for Mims. This is hopefully the best of both worlds. I know it's about a day late, but I'm hoping you won't hold that against me, seeing as it is a Halloween fic of sorts, but really just an excuse to dress up our favorite characters. Mims, you're my fave new Rocky Horror Whore G ;)

Disclaimers: The Nanny doesn't belong to me. I'm borrowing them, and taking them out to play, but I'll return all the characters unscathed, I promise.

1 October 31: Halloween Morning

The sound of her name being called through the house didn't surprise her anymore. Something about the past few years of living with the Sheffields had taught her that when her name was called, it was either because she had done something wrong, someone needed something, or Maggie had lost her diary again. None of them were particularly good reasons to be hollered at, but since she was certain that this time it wasn't her doing, Fran felt safe in seeking out he source of the noise.

"You bellowed," Fran said, smiling, as she made her way into Maxwell Sheffield's office. From what Niles had said, their boss had been in a good mood, though she never took her employer's mood at face value. There was something about their relationship that was horribly volatile, and with a moment's notice, Mr. Sheffield might start chasing her through the house. If she were lucky, it would be for fun and not for punishment, though, on the other hand, that could be fun too, she thought, her mind wandering.

"Ah, Miss Fine, come in!" He smiled broadly, impressed by his Nanny's choice of wardrobe. Today she was sporting a two-piece dress suit, and though the blazer and skirt were a lovely vibrant blue, the knee-high boots she wore made her legs seem to go on forever. It didn't hurt either that she was wearing a wonderfully plunging-neckline.

Fran assumed her regular seat at the corner of his desk and crossed her legs. For a moment she noticed his eyes travel up the length of her legs, to the edge of her skirt; that was how she knew which outfits he liked, because his eyes would travel. "You wanted to see me?"

"Uh, yes," Max said, flustered, the expanse of leg she was showing quite possibly more than he could handle.

Fran nodded, waiting for him to continue on. She liked the effect she had on him, even if it was sometimes viciously confusing when she tried to determine what exactly their relationship was.

"There's a benefit," he began.

Before he could finish, Fran interjected. "Please, PLEASE, say that this is one of those 'which suits do I wear' questions?"

"I was hoping you'd come with me," he said sweetly. 'You catch more flies with honey' his mother had said many times over, though he had never seen her actually practice the theory.

"And what kind of benefit is this?" She looked at him suspiciously. Usually he would announce what it was before he asked her, but this time he was playing it close to the chest. Obviously he was hiding something.

"It's a fundraiser for AIDS," he clarified.

"Mr. Sheffield…"

"I can't help it, Miss Fine – it's 'A Halloween House of Horrors'…" He watched for her reaction, hoping that she wouldn't throw her hands in the air and laugh at him. Or yell at him.

"And what aren't you telling me?" She knew him well enough to know there was another shoe and it was about to drop.

"It's just a small detail," he assured her. "The theme of this house of horrors is…other than scary stuff, that is…country and western through the decades."

"As in, country music?" Fran shifted her skirt down, giving it a gentle tug. "Please tell me you mean…I don't know, like… maybe patriotism through the decades?"

"Yes, as in country music," Max said. She hadn't totally lost it yet, so this could prove promising. "But there is a Wild West influence to it."

"Mr. Sheffield," she whined.

Ah, and here it comes, he thought. "If you haven't noticed, I produce plays which open on Broadway," Max explained, shuffling through papers on his desk. He was sure he had placed the itinerary of the event somewhere on his desk, but once she came up and sat on his desk, his mind wandered and the papers got misplaced. After three years, surely he was used to the affect she had on him, he thought, but he quickly realized that no man would ever be able to be immune to Fran Fine.

"It's a Halloween hoe-down!" Fran whined. "Why do I hafta go anyway?"

"Because, I need an escort, and C.C. insists on going with that new bloke she met at the gym," Max said honestly, before noting the lack of enthusiasm on her part. "Besides, you're my favorite escort." He added sweetly; he could tell her resolve was crumbling.

"Ten generations of Fine women are rollin' in their graves! You meet many Jewish Cowgirls lately?" Pulling out the big guns--the quivering lip-pout which she reserved especially for occasions like this--she hoped that she'd get her reprieve.

Max laughed before noticing the suddenly serious expression on her face, and the way his eyes were instantly drawn to her lips, and her wonderfully expressive eyes. Recovering, he tried to give her his best charming grin. "You've always been a trendsetter, Miss Fine, and I see no reason why this must be the exception."

"Anyone good gonna be there, at least?" As soon as he had smiled at her, she knew that she'd concede defeat. He had that effect on her, and for better or worse she just couldn't deny him anything; he was her biggest vice.

"Lots of country stars, a pretty large group of New York socialites, and of course representation from Broadway," he told her, finding the program for the event. "And it says right here, 'special guest musicians'."

"Like who?"

"They don't say, and I suppose, Miss Fine, that they're trying to make it a surprise. All I know is that it's $500 a plate, and I've ordered you a ticket, so I'd like it if you would see fit to come with me."

"At $500 a plate they'd better be givin' you a doggy bag to take home, and a necklace from Tiffany," Fran mumbled. Every so often it was her job to attend some uppity function with Mr. Sheffield, and although she was becoming quite accustomed to it, there were times when she debated the merit of going with him. She'd never meet anyone while escorting him; everyone always assumed that a man who brought his Nanny along with him wasn't strictly on professional terms.

"The attire is strictly casual-cowboy, so no gowns, and no tuxes. I'm not sure what you'll choose to wear, but please remember the theme," he begged her. There was the Halloween party the year before for which he was still paying a price; he never expected her to show up in a peacock costume. Then again, he had never before heard Milton Bishop-Prince compliment someone on their excellent use of feathers, either.

Niles watched as CC stormed her way into the kitchen, never once noticing him sitting at the table. It wasn't like he was invisible or anything, what with being in the middle of the room with a newspaper spread out before him, but then again, to CC Babcock, he might as well have been invisible.

"Oh, shut up, toilet duck. I'm in no mood today!" She stopped only momentarily before she seemed to regain her original momentum and continued towards the coffee pot, empty cup in hand.

"Sour, aren't we? Did someone forget to take their happy pills?" When she didn't reply, he took that as cause to continue forward, no holds barred. "Come on, Babcock, isn't tonight your favorite holiday," Niles asked, watching as CC carefully poured the cream in her coffee.

"What?" Looking up, she offered him a confused and rather frustrated glare.

"It's Halloween. Tonight your kind is allowed to run rampant. Scaring people is acceptable this evening; I would have thought you'd be out and living it up." Niles grinned as he lifted his cup to his lips. "Then again, I suppose even those poor children deserve some break. You might be too scary for them, even tonight of all nights." Gazing down into his cup, he tried not to smile. He knew that his comments would elicit even the smallest of replies, and he was looking forward to it.

"This coming from the man who thinks a broom is an accessory? I think not, Attila the Dumb."

The distant look in her eyes told him that she was all too distracted. In turn, her distraction made teasing her much less fun. It was only enjoyable if she was a willing participant, he told himself, though a part of him knew that more than anything he wanted to know what had her so down. "What's going on? Someone threaten to drop another house on you? I know it took ages for you to get the grass stains out of your last costume."

"Ha ha," she said, a heavy sigh in her voice.

"Then?"

She shook her head. It must be bad if she was going to tell the maid about it. "Maxwell is taking that horrendous excuse for a nanny to the benefit tonight," she finally said.

"And?" Maybe Niles didn't get it because he wasn't looking for the obvious answer. Other than the fact that she had to work on her favorite witching night; he made a mental note to save that joke for later. "You have a date. From what Miss Fine tells me, you've been raving about this man all week."

"I was raving about him until I found out he had a wife to entertain tonight instead," CC growled. "Now I'm just raving."

Niles debated making a smart-ass comment, but then decided against it. "You could have told Mr. Sheffield before he asked Nanny Fine to go with him. I'm sure he would have loved to have your company." Of course, he much preferred Miss Fine's company, and Niles knew that all too well, but he didn't believe in kicking his favorite foe while she was done. He'd take the time to let her recover from this, and then he'd pull out the big guns then and only then.

"Too little too late now. I can't believe I even bought a matching costume to his." Mentally kicking herself, CC wondered if it was too late to go in search of a new costume for the evening. When there was going to be a Clyde for her Bonnie, so to speak, the costume idea seemed endearing, but now the getup was more of a thorn in her side.

"Well, every horse needs an ass," he said, before realizing it had escaped his lips. He was just so accustomed to being rude to her, that this was a standard knee-jerk reaction. Noting her fallen expression, he sidestepped, though only barely. "What I meant was, every ying has its yang."

"Profound. Great save." Sipping from her cup, CC stopped long enough to look at him, looking so very young in his casual sweater and with the mug of coffee perched in front of him, his hands holding it firmly. Sometimes he looked so very attractive, and then he'd open his mouth and she'd remember what she hated about him, or more precisely, what she hated about being her around him. Nobody else seemed to have the same troubles with him as she did.

"What were you going as?" Niles was hoping to sidestep the car wreck he had just caused. His words had once again been the cause of a very near disaster.

"It's silly," she said, blushing a little how his attention was so intently directed towards her.

"The theme is Honky Tonk, or Wild West or something?" He watched her fingers drag over the cup. God she was hypnotizing, though he never would admit it, he told himself.

"It's a house of horrors, but yes, it's also a theme party. Technically it's Honky Tonk and a little sprinkling of the cowboy roots," she said. This whole evening would be a disaster, she just knew it.

"And you were going as a cowgirl?"

"A barmaid," she finally admitted. "But right now I'm not even sure I'm going."

How their conversation had taken a turn from the usual angry banter they typically shared to the almost civil conversation, she would never know, but there was a degree of enjoyment to it.

Niles waggled his eyebrows. "A la Miss Kitty, or do you have a special trick up your sleeve?"

CC laughed at his playful manner. This Niles she actually quite enjoyed – this was the one who wasn't possessed by a demon, or whatever had caused him to constantly insult her. "I don't know how to even begin to describe it, but I think I'm just going to go home tonight and enjoy some peace and quiet."

Laughing, he tapped his finger on the table in a pointed manner, all in a very deliberate way. "Have you forgotten that this is Halloween? It's practically your birthday, for all the joy it must bring you," he said teasingly. "AND, it's also the day kids go door to door to door to door… in search of candy and other treats. You sure as hell aren't going to get much peace or quiet."

"So instead I should go to a fundraiser by myself, where I can be miserable and pathetic and feel like an outcast?"

"No, you should go to the fundraiser with me, so I can make you feel miserable and pathetic." He grinned wryly at her, hoping she'd accept his offer. So it wasn't such a kind offer as much as a 'what could be worse' kind of scenario, but he was feeling suddenly intrigued by the concept of a barmaid's outfit on the leggy and buxom blonde.

"With you?"

"Beats being at home with your dog and debating what color to paint his toenails," Niles said smugly.

"I'm not so sure about that – though I'll have you know I never once painted that dog's nails; that was Nanny Fine."

"Sure you haven't," Niles agreed, a mischievous nod. "So, I'll pick you up at 7?"

"6:30," CC said, feeling a sudden bravery she hadn't felt before. "And we'll pretend to have a good time, no matter what?"

"Just stay away from the funhouse mirrors," Niles begged teasingly.

Halloween Evening

Fran made her way down the stairs, still astounded that she was going to a function with Mr. Sheffield that would require her to wear tight-fitted blue jeans and a snug sequined jacket over a fitted white tank top. Of course, the pièce-de-résistance was the high-heeled cowboy boots she had bought earlier in the day. Never before had Fran thought that she would be able to find cowboy boots in uptown Manhattan, but she had managed it, and now she was looking very much the sight of the urban cowgirl.

"Oh, Miss Fine… You look like you just walked out of Nashville," Niles said, watching as his friend sashayed down the stairs. He had yet to tell her of his recently made plans with Miss Babcock, but for the time being he decided it was best this way. She'd find out soon enough.

"Have ya ever been to Nashville?"

"I was just a boy. It changed my life forever," he laughed. "Well, Nashville and a pretty little cowgirl named Deanna."

Fran laughed and tried to imagine Niles as a young man, free of worries, visiting Nashville. "Should I be worried about this Deanna girl?"

Smiling, Niles just shook his head. "You're the prettiest cowgirl I've ever seen; Mr. Sheffield won't know what hit him!"

Fran did a faux curtsy and smiled. "Meanwhile, I never thought Mr. Sheffield would want me to wear sequins."

"Well, there's a first time for everything," Niles said, winking at her.

"Not for some things," Fran mumbled, inviting laughter from her friend. Looking in the mirror, she straightened her collar and checked to ensure her make-up was flawless.

"Ahem."

Fran had heard him clear his throat, and he sounded to still be quite a distance away, but it got her attention none the less. Turning around, she looked around the foyer and then up the stairs. "Oh, Mr. Sheffield…" She was stunned.

Maxwell was standing on the bottom step wearing snug fitting jeans, a black button-down long-sleeved shirt, and cowboy boots. He even had a black Stetson hat, which topped off the ensemble.

"You look…" Fran was speechless. She had never seen him look sexier than he did at that moment. As unusual of a sight as a casual Maxwell was, she enjoyed the view, noting that the jeans and shirt nicely complimented his fit body.

"As do you, Miss Fine. I must say, if I had known that you looked that good in … cowboy boots… I would have found a way to do this sooner," he said sweetly, his voice low and sexy. He couldn't take his eyes off how her tank-top had pushed everything in the exactly right place, or how her jeans fit her like a second skin.

"Your boots are nice too," she said with a wink. Maybe tonight wouldn't be so bad after all.

Niles showed up at CC's door at 6:25. He couldn't believe how blatantly he had asked her out, but somehow he was still overjoyed at the prospect. As much as he knew he could never admit it, he felt something for the socialite, and it was at events like this where they would pass the evening together that he realized just how good they could be together.

When he raised his hand to knock, he realized that there had been an opportunity to turn this all into a joke against her, even though that was hardly as fun as spending the night with her wrapped in his arms as they danced. Then again, did country music have slow dances or were there just square dances?

"You're early," CC said, wrapped in a robe. "I know, only a couple of minutes. I've been having one heck of a time squeezing into this dress."

Niles laughed as he entered, looking her over. The white housecoat reminded him of something Fran might wear, not the ever-together CC Babcock. "No worries. We have plenty of time."

CC just smiled and invited him in. "Want to take off your coat?"

"Want to take off yours?" Niles asked flirtatiously. His comment earned him quite the flushed expression from CC. Instead of continuing the charade, he slid his trench coat off and perched it on the arm of the sofa.

Her eyes instantly went to evaluate his costume. The ivory chaps over the extremely well fitting faded blue jeans stunned her, showing off all of his assets, and the matching ivory vest over the denim collared shirt made his shoulders look even broader. His cowboy boots were sturdy looking, providing an air of authenticity to it all.

When she didn't say anything, he blindly groped for some sort of comment. "What do you think?"

She had been too busy appraising his costume to really say much of anything at all. "It's good," she managed, a strangled noise escaping her throat when she realized the top two buttons of his shirt remained undone, and creating an extremely sexy picture of the man before her.

Niles just smiled, realizing that that was as much of a compliment as he'd get from her. "You had better go finish getting ready," he said, watching as she once again appraised his costume.

"I'll be right back," she promised, as she managed to tear her eyes away from him and head towards her bedroom door. She hadn't forgotten that he was a man as much as she had forgotten that he was a very attractive one, and here he was dressed up as a 'barkeep' looking pretty fantastic. Closing the door to her room behind her, she slipped her housecoat off her shoulders and decided that it was time to add the finishing touches to her costume.

Since Lloyd had informed her of his unfortunate predicament (what with being married and all) CC had given very little thought to how the evening would be. She had all but burned the dress, the idea of wearing it without any real planned benefit seemed wasteful to her, but now Niles was escorting her, and she quite enjoyed his playful teasing. When he wasn't being a royal pain in the butt, he was quite the man to be around.

Breathing in as she began to lace the corset, she hoped that this would all be worth it. Niles had flirted with her, yes, and he seemed to be in moderately good spirits, but if this all turned out to be another one of his dirty tricks, she realized that she might have to actually kill him. He was out of reprieves.

Shrugging into the small jacket that gently fit against her corset (though did nothing to conceal her state of undress), CC straightened her skirt, and finally decided that she was done. All that was left was pulling on her favorite pair of stiletto heeled boots.

"Ok, if you laugh," she said as she made her way into the living room, "I might be forced to drive the heel of my boot through your thick skull."

Niles looked up at her threat, the breath catching in his throat as she appeared before him looking like a sinful but delightful temptress, her hair long and flowing down to her shoulders in softly curling tendrils, and her rather ample bust being pushed up in all the right ways by the corset. "Wow," he managed, trying to coherently come up with more words. So far every thought that came to mind had been small single syllable thoughts.

"I was getting bored of the traditional cowboy hats and suede-jacket look."

Niles just grinned inanely; blood had yet to start circulating through his body, but when it did, he promised himself he'd say something reasonably profound. Right now the only thought that was running through his mind was how gravity seemed to be defied, and how he actually knew that she was sporting a garter belt on her thigh. "Wow." His eyes traveled down her legs, and he realized that she was wearing a substantial stiletto heel, on a rather enticing pair of sandal pumps. They may not have been authentic looking, but they made her legs look about a mile long.

"And you've managed yet again to make me regret this," she said quietly, watching as he appraised her ensemble. CC was pleased, to say the least, at the effect she had on him. "Now, come on, before we are late."

Niles just nodded, hoping he could find the strength to get through the night.

Entering the ballroom, Fran cringed. There was a very distinctive banjo being plucked to what she imagined was within an inch of its life. "I feel like I just stepped in to 'Deliverance'," Fran whined.

"Now, now, Miss Fine, remember that this is for a good cause…" Max had to admit that country and western music wasn't exactly his first choice either, but he would never admit it to her. It would see that then she'd have just one more reason they shouldn't be there to hold over him, and the night was still young.

"You'd think they'd find some music that had different instruments…you know, something without banjos?"

"Miss Fine, did you really expect Barbra to pop in and do a few songs?" Sipping a glass of champagne, which he picked up from a tray as it wandered past, he observed the other guests, all of whom seemed to be enjoying the event. For all intents and purposes, the event was a success.

"Ya think it'd kill 'em to play one song?" Sighing, she grabbed a stuffed cheeseball and tossed it in her mouth. It wouldn't be such a trying event were it not for all the couples who were holding each other very tenderly, the entire room resembling a very bad western movie from days of old.

Max laughed. "There ware worse things than country music," he defended, though he why he felt compelled to make the argument was lost on him.

"It's the lyrics – everyone's depressed. Everyone is waitin' for the other shoe to drop."

Max had to agree. In a way she was right – most of country music seemed to be mourning, which was somewhat depressing. "But, think of it this way. This year we can bob for apples together."

Fran just laughed. "With this crowd, I'm afraid to. Any luck, they'll wait til we have the apple in our mouth and spitroast us."

The car ride to the hall had been awkward. Neither knew what to say to one another, so instead Niles would just steal glances as her, wondering if she knew how breathtaking she really was.

That was the thing about CC Babcock. She was understated beauty – she was class and elegance and brilliance, but most people wouldn't describe her as beautiful. And that had nothing to do with her physical attributes, which were at the very least breath-taking, but more to do with the fact that she instilled fear into almost everyone she met. There were very few men who had courted her who hadn't been on the receiving end of her razor sharp tongue – another thought that had intrigued him.

"You've got the cat in the cream grin on your face," CC pointed out, only a few blocks from the ballroom.

Niles just shrugged as indifferently as he could. "I was just thinking. Dangerous activity, I know."

"About?" She was intrigued by him. The butler who asked her out; what a strange thought. Stranger still was that she had said yes, and found herself giddy waiting for the day to hurry along.

"About how you scare the hell out of most men," he said with a teasing smile on his face.

Through narrowed eyes she glared at him. "That's a lovely sentiment. I don't scare the hell out of you though, do I?" A part of her was afraid that he'd say yes, the other part afraid he'd say no. There was a very distinctive boundary she usually kept in place and dallying with the help fell outside those normal parameters.

Laughing, he looked at her, watching the red light out of the corner of his eye. "You don't scare me, no. You do many other things to me, but most of them I quite enjoy," he assured her.

The light changed, saving him from further explanation, or at least from having to look at her.

"You know that you're the only man who can say the things you say and still not feel the full extent of my wrath, right?"

Nodding, he smiled and stole a glance at her. "And you're the only socialite who berates me the way you do. We're quite the pair."

That was the last of the conversation, until they pulled up to the valet station in front of the building. Niles quickly made his way around the car and took CC's arm. "It's a date, after all," he told her, as if to explain why he should be allowed to lead her into the ballroom.

"Just don't expect all the typical date benefits," she warned him, watching as he grinned at her in response.

Their entrance to the ballroom had gone mostly unnoticed, and neither of them could complain about that, instead focusing on each other.

The room, decorated in lassos and plaids and every other cliché country music stereotype, was brimming with people, all in similar getups. Still, Niles thought, nobody looked quite as ravishing as CC did, her costume emphasizing all of her best physical attributes.

"Let's dance," CC said, a wide smile on her face. "And if you're very good, I'll even let you lead."

Maxwell took Fran in his arms and they began to sway. The gentle beginnings of what could only be a love song flooded the room.

Max grinned. "I'm glad you let me drag you here."

"The music isn't as bad as I thought," she confided. "Not that I'm racing out to replace my 'Funny Girl' records."

"Nor should you," he agreed. "But I think you should keep the hat, and the boots. You look stunning dressed like that."

Fran blushed at his compliment. She had chosen her ensemble to impress him and it had worked.

"Do you think that next year they'll do a different theme?" Fran has a mischievous gleam in her eye.

"Dare I ask what you had in mind?" Max looks at her nervously.

"Well, it'd be a blast to do the Rocky Horror Picture Show, don't you think?"

Max cringed at the thought. "Please tell me that you would let me be Brad," he asked, his horror at the alternative very obvious.

"You wouldn't want to go as Frank-N-Furter? You do have great legs," Fran said, encouragingly. When he didn't reply, she smiled seductively and whispered in his ear. "Well, I'd go as Janet."

He wasn't sure how she had that completely debilitating effect on him, but she did. The thought of her doing the Time Warp in a ripped slip and her bra made his heart skip a beat. "But Niles and CC over there – who'd they come as?"

Fran just laughed at the thought of her best friend bringing Miss Babcock to a Rocky Horror party. "Maybe they could be Riff Raff and Magenta? Or Eddie and Columbia?"

Shaking his head, Max just shrugged. "This topic is just too strange for me." Returning his attention to the song at hand, he continued to sway and hold her tightly. "Happy Halloween, Fran."

"Happy Halloween."

Niles and CC had spent the night wrapped tightly in each other's arms, each avoiding the draw to other activities with less contact.

During dinner they had been civil enough to the others at their table, Maxwell and Fran included, but as soon as the table had been cleared, they were up and away from all the others, instead choosing to dance in an isolated corner of the ballroom.

The grasp that had begun as tender and perhaps a little nervous had become more firm, and Niles realized that there was nothing tentative about how he was feeling. There was very clearly a fire between them; not even a mere spark.

CC, for her part, never once objected as he held her close, maybe closer than necessary, or when he would send her head reeling from the firmness of his grasp. This was what she wanted. What she felt for what's-his-face (the man she decided didn't deserve a name, he was so low on the evolutionary ladder), was not even a tenth of this. And yet the feelings she was experiencing were all thanks to a butler who was too nosey to mind his own business, and she loved him for it. Loved? No, too steep of a word, she told herself, too great of a leap from loathe.

Maybe it was lust? Lust was a powerful thing, after all, and the way he filled out those jeans, and the way he looked in chaps… Her mind wandered again, wishing that things were different, or maybe more the same.

"You're wandering on me," Niles pointed out, knowing her all too well. He knew her better than he knew anyone, and he could tell when she was distracted.

"I'm just thinking about how we've not done any of the activities – the fun house mirrors, the bobbing for apples, or the carnival stands they've set up."

"Would you like to?" Niles asked, suddenly feeling bad for monopolizing all of her time, and keeping her on the dance floor. He had so been enjoying how it felt to hold her like that, that he hadn't really thought about the alternatives.

"Not necessarily. I just can't help thinking how much fun I'm having when … I'm here with you," CC said honestly.

"I'm having a great time too," Niles assured her. "Just think: we've spent an entire evening together, and we've not traded one barb."

Shaking her head, CC just smiled at him. "That's how we define our relationship. That should worry you more than anything."

"Well, if you'd rather…" He stopped himself. He was going to ask her if she wanted to redefine their relationship; they could change all the rules. Instead, he thought he'd be best going for the safe route. "If you'd rather go and partake in some activities, you're welcome to, but there's no way I'm going anywhere near you with a rifle, fake or not. I just don't trust you and that indomitable Babcock spirit," he teased.

"As long you realize that the rifle is the least of your concerns."

"True," he agreed, a mischievous smile on his face. "There's still the concern of the funhouse mirrors and what it would do to you in that costume." The thought alone had piqued his interest, never mind the possibility of actually seeing her in all different proportions.

"I'm having a good time." It was a confession, she realized. The moment the words passed her lips she wondered if she should regret them, because for whatever reason, she didn't.

"As am I." Smiling, he realized that the evening had been the single most enjoyable night of his life, and here he was with the woman who drove him crazier than anyone ever had before.

"And if you're really good, there might be a treat or two to go with your treat," she said boldly. Sometimes you just had to seize the moment, she realized, and this was it. This was her turn. For all the years she had spent in neutral, she wanted to enjoy the change of gears.

"Oh, Babcock, when you say things like that," he was going to make a smart-ass comment. Niles fully intended to diffuse the situation, hoping that he wouldn't be pulled into something she wouldn't want to continue, but before his comment could be finished, she had pulled him nearer to her.

Their lips, only a breath apart, suddenly were almost touching, and with a small sweet voice, CC realized she had all the control. "Happy Halloween, Toilet duck."

The end…