This begins a fanfic series that Dafni Laurel and Bart will write. Each fic will be a stand-alone and reading the previous one will not be considered a necessity. However, the series will be more enjoyable if read in order and with knowledge of the previous fics.

Friends, Schmends

by

Dafni Laurel and Bart
(DafniLaurel@yahoo.com)

Fran stood in the foyer looking at herself in the mirror. She used the tip of her finger to wipe away a small trace of errant lipstick before smiling to check her teeth.

All clean.

She winked at herself confidently and thought briefly about her ultimate destination this morning: the office and the man who was in it.

She'd let him rest on his declaration; sleep on it for a few nights. So, he wanted to be friends, did he? After that kiss, after the thing on the trip home, after all that had happened before he still was convinced they would never be more than that.

So...he wanted to be just friends, did he?

If it weren't so heart-wrenching it would be laughable. Was the man trying to kill her slowly?

Friends.

She snorted through her nose loudly.

Who was he trying to kid?

If what she'd experienced the other night on the front doorsteps had been any indicator, then they'd passed friendship miles back on the road.

But the problem...oh yes, the problem.

While she wanted to keep the pedal to the metal, Mr. Sheffield wanted to stick it in reverse and keep it there.

She could hear his handy dandy excuses marching dutifully through her brain now.

'But Miss Fine, what about the children?'

'But Miss Fine, I'm just not ready.'

'But Miss Fine, what if it doesn't work out between us?'

But. But. But.

In the last three days, she had thought seriously about showing her own butt. Yeah, yeah, she'd told him that she understood, told him that she was satisfied with his meager offer of continued comfort and companionship. Three days. Three long, emotionally torturous days she had let this eat at her, she had suffered in silence, hiding her distress from everyone.

What was she going to do? Would he ever be ready? Ever change his mind? Would she die an old woman, in love with a man who couldn't bring himself to admit that he loved her back?

At that thought, she gritted her teeth and steeled her resolve even further. The last three days since their conversation had, as far as Mr. Sheffield suspected, been pleasant and in trying to work her way into some kind of direction; some kind of plan, she'd suffered in silence and let sleeping dogs lie.

But not anymore.

All her life seemed to have been dictated to her. This time she intended to have a say so in what the rest of her life held.

And she had every intention of holding Maxwell Sheffield.

She could almost hear her mother's advice. "Grab your man before someone else does."

This time, for the first time, she needed to close the deal. This deal meant something to her. Everything.

But, first, she was going to give Mr. Sheffield exactly what he wanted. He was a man, and she'd learned a few things in her life's experience. All men liked to think that they were winning the war.

She smiled the age old, secret smile of every woman who had mastered the precarious art of male manipulation.

Oh, she'd be his 'friend' alright.

Not only would she be his friend.

She'd be the best damn friend he ever had.

She reached to straighten the waist of her tight black leather skirt, jerking it harder than necessary. Taking a deep breath, she cocked her chin upward and headed toward his office.

She and Mr. Sheffield were about to get... 'friendly.

The manipulative smile was solidly in place.

This was one worth fighting for. She wasn't about to go down without her best swings.

*******************************************************************************

Sitting in his office, one hand pushing his hair back in frustration, Max re-read the same bits of dialogue on the page before him for about the twelfth time. Ever since his 'friends' talk with Miss Fine, he'd been having trouble concentrating at work-at dinner with his family, while reading the newspaper, hell, even while tying his shoe.

Maybe his worst vision of ruining the wonderful companionship they'd enjoyed over the past several years had already come to fruition. Those fears, which he had never been willing to face, now seemed to constantly gnaw at his psyche, refusing to be pushed aside.

Perhaps they'd gone too far. Was it the kisses exchanged three days ago on the stoop? Was it 'the thing?' Was it before that even? A sick churning in his stomach punctuated the thought that they could've ruined things long ago, and he was just now realizing it.

Their kiss was friendly enough, so maybe things weren't past the point of no return. But Max knew quite well that it was more than 'friendly enough.' Even in his stodgy resolve for platonic relations, he wasn't immune to the way that kiss had felt-those kisses.

Oh, god.

He shut his eyes for a moment, remembering her soft, pliant lips melding into his, and just as quickly as the image had popped into his head uninvited, he forced it out.

There had been more than one, and they were well beyond the bounds of friendship.

But he was sure the incident was nothing they couldn't get past. They'd kissed before and had gone on being friends, resumed their daily lives.

Yes, he was certain they could remain friends. They had to. For him, there was no other viable option. And it was really the only logical solution to the troublesome conundrum of his feelings.

Sure, he was attracted to her, why shouldn't he be? Miss Fine was one of the most beautiful women he'd ever known. He'd grown quite fond of her. There was nothing unnatural about that. She was wonderful with the children, got along splendidly with Niles, and she offered him her support unconditionally.

And, while he knew she was certainly attracted to him, he just couldn't risk a romance with her that could well end in heartbreak and ruin the warm, easy rapport that had so naturally developed between them.

Surely he could live with just 'friendship' between them, and was convinced that it would satisfy his quite natural attraction to her, without producing the high stakes of a physical entanglement.

Heaving a sigh, he turned the page of the script he was reading, not having a clue as to what the scene before him was about. His level of frustration ratcheted up several notches further. Even if he threw caution to the wind, ignoring the possibility of a poor outcome-which he'd been sorely tempted to do on several occasions-Max knew there was just too much at stake. Not only did he fear hurting Miss Fine, he was afraid for himself, and the children. His world had been shattered when Sara died, and many of the pieces were too small to even find as he'd pieced it back together in the years since then.

To put himself, and his children, in the position of being that vulnerable again was simply reckless and irresponsible. And if there was one thing Max prided himself on, it was his rejection of reckless behavior.

Besides, what was better than being friends? Friends were loyal, supported one another, and were there for each other no matter what.

That's what he and Miss Fine already were; staying friends and nothing more, they could always be there for each other-forever even. Friends to the end.

What better way to show someone how much you really care for them than by maintaining the kind of relationship that will allow you to stay close, without the risk of a painful ending? Yes, it was the perfect plan.

*******************************************************************************

Max's mental planning was interrupted when he heard the familiar knock at his door. He looked up to find her standing in the doorway, beautiful as always in her short black skirt and yellow silk blouse.

He loved her in yellow. It was a vibrant color, and she made it come alive. The color suited her; her dark hair and eyes were even more arresting with the color as a backdrop for them.

He didn't know why she even bothered to knock. As he knew she would, she didn't wait for him to invite her in but instead, just strode on into the room, made her way around his desk and saucily hopped upon the edge of it, resuming a comfortable and familiar pose as she crossed her legs.

Oh, if she ever left him, how he would miss her there.

Now where had that thought come from?

She wasn't going anywhere.

Dismissing his silly pondering, he patiently pulled his glasses from his nose and laid them aside. For some reason, he didn't want to address; he'd never liked for her to see him with the glasses on.

She smiled down at him and every sane thought flew from his head.

Beautiful. Just beautiful. It was all he could think.

Fran's smile increased as she looked down at her prey. Yep, she'd caught him unawares alright. Good. She wanted him off balance and unprepared when she threw this at him. He'd be more honest and impulsive if he didn't have time to think about all the reasons he shouldn't agree to her plans. She took a deep breath and began.

"Mr. Sheffield...Ya know, I was thinking about what we talked about the other night." She paused to see if her reminder registered. His blank face told her clearly that it hadn't. She'd have to prod him a bit more.

"You know...the 'friends' thing..."

Max stared right through her, the blank look still on his face.

Talked about? The other night?

Oh. No.

His brain did its usual whirl whenever she tossed something his way. The woman was always throwing him off kilter and keeping him out of sorts. And now, just when he'd gotten things settled between them, just when he'd figured things out and come up with a perfect plan, she was going to try and reinvent the wheel again. She was going to try and change the agreement, push him in ways he wasn't willing to go. He just knew it. Things had been so amicable between them the last few days since their conversation. They'd sealed the agreement, or so he believed, and she had never been so pleasant. She seemed to be accepting the idea. He hated that she was going to try and change things.

He braced himself for the inevitable fight he felt coming, fortifying his internal defenses automatically. Whatever she was about to argue, he already had a counter for it.

She bent toward him, reaching out her hand to do her usual self-imposed duty of dusting and straightening the lapels of his jacket.

Refusing to look directly at her, he murmured, "Mmmmmmhummmmm?" and tried to ignore where she was obviously going by reaching for a paper in front of him. He didn't care what the bloody hell it had on it but it as long as it offered a distraction from those piercing brown eyes. He made a show of finding the paper extremely fascinating and gave it a good portion of his attention.

Fran knew his tactic well and she had to hide the smirk from her face as she watched him trying to deflect his attention from her. Damn, the man was literally scared to death that she was going to jump his bones or something. She let her eyes study him in the tailored camel colored jacket and matching patterned vest beneath it. He was so handsome. So dashing. Her every dream of how a man should be on the outside with a heart of gold on the inside.

She looked to his hands holding the paper now in front of him. They were long, well manicured, strong hands. She suddenly had a vision of them on her skin, caressing it, rubbing small circles on it as he let his fingertips explore.

With a concerted effort, she disciplined herself to fight down the urge she felt for him and hoped like hell it didn't show in her eyes or face. It would do no good for her cause to broadcast her desire for him now.

She'd come in here to be his friend. Yes. His friend. That was her story-at least as far as Mr. Sheffield was concerned-and she had every intention of sticking to it.

With that thought firmly in place, she brought her hands from his lapel and inter-linked her fingers at her knees.

"Well, could you look at me when I'm talking to you!" It came out a little sharper than she'd intended.

His eyes immediately came up to meet hers and he leaned back in his desk chair resignedly as he waited for her to speak.

"Well, you know, in light of our agreement, I thought it might be a good idea if we tried things out."

Again, she'd lost him and he had to run to try and catch up. "Try things out, Miss Fine?"

She nodded innocently. "Yeah, you know, the 'being friends' thing?"

He drew his brow into a crease. "The 'being friends' thing?"

She stood up and faced him, now into her idea. "Yeah, well, I mean, we never really do anything together that friends would do."

Max forced a short chuckle from his throat and felt a wave of relief cross him. Maybe she didn't want to push things.

"Well, Miss Fine, I'm not exactly into the same things that you and Val are you know."

Fran put her hands on her hips in mock impatience. "I know that Mr. Sheffield, but I was thinking that we could do...you know...other things."

She caught the immediate widening of his eyes and hastened to reassure him of her 'friendly' intent. "You know...take in a movie occasionally...walk in Central Park...chat over a cappuccino..." She let her voice trail off and watched to gauge his reaction.

Max relaxed a bit. "We watch movies here Miss Fine and we talk all the time."

She nodded. She couldn't let him by with that.

"Oh, I know we do Mr. Sheffield, but I was thinking that if we're going to work on being good friends and have the kind of relationship that is most beneficial to the kids that we should...get to know each other as people, as individuals, a little better than we can here at home."

She frowned as she sensed he was about to argue again. Damn, he wasn't going for it that easily. "Miss Fine, I feel like I know you pretty well."

She smiled broader as she had already anticipated that one. "Oh, I know that you know my habits and routines. But that's as your nanny."

His frown told her that he wasn't completely convinced. Time for the ace.

Placing a slightly hurt look on her face, she shrugged and made her way back around to the front of his desk. "I just thought that maybe you'd want to get to know me...Fran...the person a bit better...after all it was your idea...but I understand if you're too busy to be a real friend..."

She turned and started toward the door hoping like mad that he was buying it.

3...2...1...

She heard him rise from his chair.

Sold!

"Miss Fine, come back!" His voice was pleading, gentle.

She turned slowly to face him once more and was pleased at the slight distress on his face at the hurt he seemed to detect in her. He paced his way around to the front of the desk and leaned back on it, continuing to look at her thoughtfully.

"Miss Fine, I do very much want to be your friend. I meant what I said..." He placed a hand over his heart. "...Sincerely."

She brought her face up to his and smiled again at him.

"You do?"

He smiled back gently. "I do."

Inside, she was high-fiving herself. It wasn't in a synagogue in front of a rabbi, but the admission was a start.

He placed an arm toward her in gesture. "You come up with us something to do and we'll do it together." Having said that, he started to walk around the edge of the desk to resume his work.

She didn't intend on giving him any time to back out of it.

"I'm going shopping tomorrow afternoon at the mall. I'd love for you to go with me."

Max stopped in his tracks. The mall? Shopping? With her?

He cut his eyes back to her and he opened his mouth, not knowing exactly what to say.

"Well...uh...Miss Fine...that is rather sudden and I do have a lot of work yet to be finished..."

He paused in his response when he noticed her lower lip jutting out slightly and the crestfallen expression that came across her face.

Oh, what would it hurt? For a few hours? It was just shopping.

He blew a breath through his mouth and smiled again. "Oh...alright. Just a few hours?"

She nodded excitedly at him as she bounced over to hug him quickly. "Oh, Mr. Sheffield! We are going to have a great time! You wait and see!"

She practically bounced out of his office.

As the door shut, Max sat back down in his chair and wondered, not for the first time, what the hell he'd gotten himself into when he'd let Fran Fine into his life.

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