Disclaimer: All characters belong to Fran Drescher et. al, owners of The Nanny. I'm just a twisted individual out to have a little fun with the characters of my fave show.
by
Aimee
(aimeed@earthlink.net)
"B? Are you in here?" Fran knocked briefly, then when he told her to come in, burst into the room, only to stop dead and start to giggle. "What on earth are you wearing? Are you takin' ballet lessons again, or have you finally spent waaaaayy too much time around musical theater people?"
Brighton glared at her, and the feather in his bulky cap wiggled with indignation. He put his hands on his hips. He was wearing puffy pants, a baggy shirt, and some kind of rough-woven tunic. "This is my Renaissance Faire costume, Fran. Me and the guys are going this weekend. Freddy says this outfit really helps you get chicks."
Fran eyed it. "Yeah, I can see a certain appeal . . . you look like a parody of Braveheart."
Maggie appeared in the doorway. "He sure is a joke compared to Mel Gibson."
"Hey," said Brighton. "We can't all be married to underpants models. Do you think Michael's having fun in romantic Venice with all those supermodels while you, you neglectful spouse, are here in California sponging off of Dad?"
"Shut up, Puff Daddy. Did you get pants that big to hide how small you are?" Maggie snickered.
"No need." Brighton struck a pose. "I'm a Sheffield. I almost had to get them bigger."
Maggie heard footsteps and poked her head out the door. "Hey, C.C.!" she called. "You have got to see this!"
"No!" whimpered Brighton. "She speaks poignards, and every word stabs!"
"Shakespeare?" Fran asked.
"Niles. Of course, at the time they were more concerned about his poignard stabbing her. Whatever a poignard is." Brighton shrugged.
"It's a kind of blade," C.C. supplied, appearing in the door with her eyes on a sheaf of paperwork in her hand. "Of course, Niles' is more of a broadsword." Her eyes widened slightly as she took in Brighton's costume. "Well, well, well, if it isn't Shakespeare in heat."
"Did you call me?" Niles appeared right behind her, still knotting his tie.
"Actually I was talking about the boy. Check it out." C.C. draped her arm around her husband's waist and nodded. Immediately they both broke into giggles.
"Laugh all you like, you old married people, but when I get some fabulous chick in a low cut dress hanging all over me, you'll be laughing at yourselves."
"I always laugh at Niles; it's just inherent in being near him," C.C. commented. "Ow!" Her eyes widened slightly. "Niles!"
Niles smiled at her and departed before she could return the goose.
"Look at this." Brighton was handing a colorful brochure to Fran. "Doesn't it look like a blast? Hey, I've gotta change. Could you two, umm, get lost?"
Fran and C.C. turned, but outside Brighton's closed door, Fran stopped C.C.. "Hey, you feel like giving our boys the shock of their lives?"
C.C. smiled. "Don't actually need any help in that department."
Fran rolled her eyes. "This Renn Faire thing does look like a blast. Think for a minute. The outfit you just saw on Brighton, on Niles."
C.C. started to giggle. "Oh, I could insult him for years about the puffy pants alone!"
"Or maybe, this?" Fran suggested slyly, pointing to a photo on the cover of the brochure. "Hoo ha!"
C.C.'s eyes took on a speculative gleam as she eyed the photo of a man in very, very tight pants wielding a massive sword.
"And if you need any more reasons, imagine yourself in this." Fran laid one red-tipped nail on a photo of a woman in a colorful gown with a very low-cut neckline. "Imagine the look on Niles' face, seeing you walking around all day in that, other men admiring you. Imagine what it'll be like when he finally gets you home after a full day of -- "
"Muscular men in tight pants playing with their swords?" C.C. smiled a slow, naughty smile. "I'll call a costume shop, you tell the men that they're taking tomorrow off."
That afternoon, C.C. was called away to finish some business, leaving Fran to pick up the costumes alone. The costumer had assured Fran that the gowns were typical of a Renaissance Faire, but Fran's purchases, in C.C.'s opinion, left much to be desired as they lay piled on Fran's bed.
"It gets better," Fran insisted. "Now strip."
C.C. gazed at her warily, but dropped her ivory silk skirt and lavender sweater set on the bed and stood before Fran.
"Now take off your bra," Fran told her.
"No!"
"You have to, or it won't fit right."
C.C. removed her bra and folded her arms over her chest. Fran handed her a voluminous white garment.
"Am I supposed to get dressed under a tent?"
"No, silly. The lady at the costume shop said this is the first thing that goes on."
Fran helped C.C. slide the costume over her head. It hung on her loosely, concealing everything. It was a simple floor-length shift with long, puffy sleeves, gathered with white ribbons at the throat and wrists.
Fran handed her a sky blue skirt. It, too, was voluminous, but the waist fit snugly enough. C.C. turned to glance in the full-length mirror and gasped. She looked like two puff pastries stacked on top of each other. All the assiduous exercising she did was thoroughly wasted in this nightmare of a gown. She started to wiggle out of the skirt.
"No! Just put the rest of it on and see then. It gets better, really." Fran handed her a vest.
"It's way too small," C.C. frowned. "It'll never fit."
"Yes, it will. Now turn away from the mirror, I want you to be surprised." Fran helped C.C. slide the light brown vest on and began to lace it up the front. "Now, do you want to be a good girl or a bad girl?"
"If I wanted to be a bad girl, this is not the ensemble I'd choose."
"It will be in a sec. Bad girl it is. You see, if you lace the laces going up, you're advertising that you're a lady of virtue. If you lace the laces down, you're advertising that you're no lady at all. Since this outfit is primarily for Niles' benefit, I'd go with no lady at all."
C.C. wheezed, "I can hardly breathe!"
"Be patient." Fran gave the laces a last jerk and tied them deftly into a bow. She fluffed the bows at C.C.'s neckline, waist, and wrists, and fluffed out her skirts. She reached under the blue overskirt to tug at the ankle-length white shift. Slowly, C.C.'s neckline lowered until it more or less didn't exist.
Fran then fiddled with C.C.'s top until C.C. blushed and shoved her hands away. "There!" Fran said in satisfaction. "Now you can look."
C.C. turned around, and once again gasped in shock, but this time, it was pleasure. Fran had been right about the outfit all along. The tight top changed everything. It nipped her waist in until it was as small as it had been when C.C. was sixteen, and the enormous skirts belled out from C.C.'s tiny torso. Just above her ribcage, her top was lifted and pushed together above the vest thingy and covered only by the white garment, which the vest thingy had pulled down so far that another inch would have gotten her arrested in most states. It was obvious that the outfit had been made for a woman with an hourglass figure like C.C.'s.
"Wow," she said softly. She'd never looked or felt so sexy in her life.
As Fran began to wiggle into her own costume, she lectured C.C. on its components. Fran's big tent dress was black, and the garment was called a "chemise." Fran then donned a red skirt and asked C.C. to help tie it in back. She then pulled on a tight red vest, which she said was called a "bodice," and C.C. began to help her lace it up the front. Fran's black and red ensemble gave her a piratical air as she swaggered around and swayed her hips to make her skirts swing. Fran's thick, curly hair and Cadillac Red lips added to the effect.
They stood together in awe at the mirror. Suddenly a wicked smile flashed across C.C.'s features and a low, devilish laugh bubbled out of her. Fran nudged her and joined C.C.'s contralto laughter with her own distinctive notes.
"Maxwell is just gonna die when he sees you in that at the fair tomorrow," C.C. told her.
"And Niles is gonna live up to all the times you ever called him "Easy-off," Fran promised.
They fell on the bed side by side, giggling like schoolgirls and planning their attack.
"Do I look as stupid as I feel?" Niles asked sourly as he helped Max adjust his feathered cap the next morning in the front hall mirror.
"No," Max replied. "Stupider." At Niles' glare, Max scowled. "Well, look at us, man! We look like bloody munchkins!"
"Well, I just hope they look as ridiculous as we do, because if they don't, my gorgon wife will never let us forget it."
"Oh, C.C. will think you're a stud no matter what you wear. She'll just never admit it."
Niles felt somewhat comforted. He crossed to the staircase and shouted up the stairs, "What's taking so long? Come on, women, I want to party like it's 1499!"
Fran and C.C. appeared at the top of the stairs, covered in full-length cloaks of a light cotton. Fran's was black, and trimmed in pointed black lace, and C.C.'s was dark blue and trimmed in cream lace in a fleur-de-lis pattern. The cloaks weren't precisely Elizabethan, but if the men saw their costumes now, they'd never be permitted out in public.
At the sight of Niles and Max, C.C. placed her hand over her mouth and began to giggle. She made a great show of suppressing her laughter as she glided down the steps to her husband's side.
"I like this," she murmured, drawing a gloved finger down Niles' chest, where the rough shirt was open almost halfway down. "On the other hand, I really think these pants are going to be my favorite. So much ammunition." Despite herself and the silly pants, C.C. knew they had to get out of the house before she dragged Niles upstairs.
"You should know all about the ammo that's in there," he told her with bravado.
In the limo, C.C. and Fran kept themselves carefully concealed under the cloaks, despite the fact that both Niles and Max made very persuasive arguments for removing them.
"They must look as ridiculous as we feel," Max told Niles. Niles nodded sagely. C.C. and Fran just smiled.
It took about an hour of driving along the California coastline from their Beverly Hills home until they reached the Renaissance Faire. Once there, they found themselves in the midst of a full-sized fifteenth century English village. It was charming, with thatch-roofed cottages and stores. To their left, a large field with pony rides and elephant rides was set up. In every other direction, pathways lined with shops extended as far as they could see.
"Fran, do you believe this? This is a whole new way to shop!" C.C. gasped, drifting over to a potter's to examine some goblets and plates.
"Hey, wait just a sec!" Fran told her. "It's time for the unveiling."
"That's right!" C.C. exclaimed. She and Fran gave each other a conspirational grin and dropped their cloaks.
Max gave a strangled cry and threw Fran's back on again, his eyes popping out of his head. Niles just surveyed his wife from her neck to her waist and all the way back up again. He put his arms around her. "I like this. It's a good look for you." He kissed her. C.C. preened shamelessly, giving a sulking Fran a triumphant look. "But," he continued, "I agree with Max. You two are showing entirely too much flesh. How about you cover up again, and I promise to get my hands in places they shouldn't be as often as possible to show you how beautiful I think you are?" This rambling, unusually tactful speech was accompanied by his chivalrously helping C.C. on with her cloak. Insults were no way to get the woman to do as he wanted and cover herself
But she stopped his efforts to conceal her by blocking the cloak with her hand and replied, "Oh, I don't think so, darling." C.C. took her cloak from Niles' hands before he could react, whipped Fran's off as well, and stuffed them in a trashcan. At Max and Niles' astonished looks, she replied, "What? They were cheap. Anybody want to ride an elephant?" Giving Niles a saucy look, she added, "One I haven't already been on before?"
She and Fran joined hands and ran down the hill to the elephant rides.
Max and Niles looked at each other in resignation. "I guess I can live with this," Niles sighed. "But who knew I was married to Pamela Andersen Tudor?"
They caught up with the girls just as Fran was climbing onto an elephant to take a turn around the field. Fran waved as she was led away.
The salesman of elephant rides didn't even notice the two protective, hovering husbands. "Fair maiden," he was saying to C.C., "what need hast thou for riding an elephant when thou couldst have a stallion?"
"But I've already ridden a stallion before," she protested, laughing.
"Not the two-legged variety, I fancy, milady."
C.C. blushed and giggled. "But the elephant reminds me of my husband," she replied with a smile. She turned to glance at Niles. "I do so miss him. I fear he's left me, and a possessive ogre has replaced him."
"I will slay this ogre at your command, lady," C.C.'s new friend assured her. He attempted to take her hand. C.C., knowing Niles was behind her, allowed this flirtation.
Niles put his hand over his rival's. "Trifle with my wife, scoundrel, and I will trifle with thy ballocks." C.C. was released, grinning, and when Fran returned and climbed off the elephant, it was Niles who chivalrously helped C.C. to climb on. "Lady," he whispered. "Enjoy thy ride, but molest not this defenseless four-legged creature of God, if thou canst help thyself."
"I will molest thee with a rock across thy head, dear husband!" she replied as she was led away.
"Oooh, I love this!" Fran said later as they stood watching a sword fight.
"Yes," Max said sourly. "Watching every man here watching your chest is definitely fun for the whole family."
Niles was little more sanguine than Max. "This would a lot more entertaining if we didn't have to guard their virtue," he said dryly. "What am I saying? Virtue, C.C.? Not bloody likely."
C.C. elbowed him and replied, "Hey, I'm having a blast. It's a big fair with lots of big men in tight pants playing with their swords."
Niles groaned. There was no possible response that wouldn't get him in big trouble, and despite his jealousy, he did want C.C. to enjoy herself. She obviously loved the fair. She and Fran ran from show to ride to game to exhibit like children, enjoying the adventure, loving the admiration of other men but always flaunting themselves before Niles and Maxwell in particular, wanting to see that look of warm admiration in their husbands' eyes.
"You know what we haven't done yet?" Fran asked.
"Shop!" C.C. replied. "I saw the most adorable little shop selling pottery dishes when we came in."
"I want one of those gypsy dancer costumes."
"And the jewelry!"
"Oh, the jewelry!"
"And the sculpture."
Fran nodded. "I think MasterCard and Mistress Visa are going to come in very, very handy!" she replied.
"Well, I want to see the jousting," Niles remarked. He elbowed Max. "Why don't we meet you in an hour for lunch at the inn, then if you're not finished shopping, there's always the rest of the afternoon."
Max was looking at him strangely, but said nothing until Fran and C.C. had kissed them good bye and dashed of in search of the potter C.C. wanted to visit. "So, what are you up to, old man?" he asked. "A way to get our ladies fair to show a little less of their bosoms fair?"
Niles grinned. "Oh, lighten up. I think it's cute. But they do need to be taught a lesson, and we're just the knights-errant to do the job. Come on."
Half an hour later, Max examined his profile in a full-length mirror. "Much better," he said. "Do I look dashing and romantic?"
"Sir, I could fall for you myself."
Max glared, but he had to admit, Niles' naughty plan for paying back their mischievous wives was a brilliant, if simple one: give them a taste of their own medicine. Max was now dressed in the bold costume of a nobleman, black and red to match Fran's. His black velvet pants fit him like a glove, and he sent a silent thank you to the gods of the Stairmaster. High leather boots matched his black leather doublet, which was slashed and filled in with scarlet silk. A cape of black lined with red silk hung jauntily over one shoulder, and a black cap with one smartly curling red feather was set at an angle on his thick, curly black hair.
"Mrs. Sheffield will plotz," Niles assured him.
"So will C.C.," Max replied. The butler's wife was in for quite the surprise. Her husband had trashed the puffy pants in favor of tan-colored breeches just as tight as Max's. So that he, too, matched his lady, he wore a blue slashed doublet trimmed in tan velvet. But he had gone for a more rakish look, unbuttoning his doublet and the shirt underneath so that a few inches of his chest, tanned and lightly covered in blond chest hair, could be seen.
While they paid for their purchases, Niles experimented by casting a few sly, devilish looks at the salesgirl, which she returned with interest. He was reassured that his plan would work. Winking at her, he asked, "Now, fair lady, where would a gentleman get his hands on a really big sword with which to impress a very demanding lady?"
Swinging their little purses and already burdened with packages of every description, C.C. and Fran dropped onto benches in the inn yard and began to fan themselves with silk fans purchased at a costumer's.
"Where are they?" Fran complained. "They're ten minutes late!"
"Well, so were we!" C.C. pointed out. "Just look for the aging perverts in goofy pants."
Fran cast her eyes around the inn yard. Suddenly, she made a small, incoherent squeak. "Oh, my god! Oh, my god, oh my god, ohmygod! Oh, my god!""
"What?" C.C. asked. She followed Fran's gaze, and her blue eyes nearly bugged out of her head. She'd barely glanced at the two noblemen under a tree until Fran realized who they were.
Max reclined against the tree being fanned by a giggling young woman. Niles stood beside him, his booted foot on a bench, flirting and laughing with a serving wench who was bringing him a tankard of ale. Niles toasted the two young women, then quirking an eyebrow flirtatiously, downed at least half the ale in one gulp, resting one hand deliberately on his thigh as he did so.
"Are they looking?" Max asked.
"And coming over here," Niles replied. Max leapt to his feet and bowed low before the ladies. "Good day to you, dear ladies." He kissed Fran's hand with an elaborate flourish.
Niles was less subtle. He seized C.C. by the waist. "I see the shopping was to your liking, lass, but I vow, you are to my liking!" He dipped her low and kissed her deeply, to a thunderous roar of appreciation from those near by. When C.C. stood, she had to lean dizzily against him.
"How dost thou, wench?" he murmured.
"Weak," she answered in a sultry voice. "Weak with hunger, my lord."
"How likest thou these garments?"
"I like them well. You look the very rouge you are, the very rouge I do love above all others." C.C. fanned herself rapidly, flirting at him with her eyes as she did so.
Fran's response was less subtle. "Hoo-ha!" she exclaimed.
After a lunch of lemonade and enormous barbecued turkey legs, as they all ambled together toward the jousting field, C.C. drew Niles' sword and began to play with it. She ran her fingers up and down the blade and pointed it at him. "Your virtue or your life!" she demanded.
Niles took the sword from her hand and drew it, carefully tipped for safety but no less visually impressive, from the hollow of her throat down to her waist. "Nay, lady, think not to threaten me. I am a noble and you, by your dress, are but a peasant wench. I am thy better, and thou wilt submit to me!"
"In thy dreams, thou posturing madman!" she answered, laughing, and began to run.
Niles sheathed his sword and began to chase her. He caught up with her just outside the jousting field and wrapped his arms around her waist. "Tonight," he whispered in her ear, "I'll show you just how well I like your pretty costume -- and your pretty body! And you will acknowledge me your rightful lord and master!" C.C. giggled as he brushed a feather-light kiss over her ear.
Max and Fran watched them caper and he slipped his arm around her waist. "I'm glad to see them happy," he said. "Neither of them has had enough happiness in their lives until now. And I would fain have my dearest friends as happy as I am with my lady wife." He hugged her.
Fran's brown eyes glowed like jewels under the warmth of his love. "But thou art not authentic, my lord," she said coyly. "I thought big swords were only carried by men who don't already have a big sword."
"What shall I do with thee, Fran?" he sighed in mock frustration. "Shall I love thee like a lady, or tumble thee in the hay like a sexy peasant wench?"
Fran giggled. "What dost thou mean, 'or?'"
As the sun set over the ocean, the four exhausted revelers tumbled into the back of the limousine. Max and Niles removed their doublets, breathing a sigh of relief. Those costumes might be sexy, but they were also very hot.
C.C. and Fran loosened their laces and relaxed in the arms of their gentlemen husbands. Niles toyed with C.C.'s hair and whispered, "Did you have fun, wench?" But only a soft, sleepy sigh answered him
Fran snuggled up to Max, asking, "Can we come back again before the season is over?"
"Of course, now that you're not the only one with a costume that shows off your best assets. I rather liked all the female attention. It made having a lovely lady to go home with all the more appealing."
"So now you know how C.C. and I felt when we were flirting. It's good to know we're still sexy, but we'd only really want to show it off for you two."
Max kissed Fran and settled back into the plush seat. "Is the night quite over?"
Fran laughed mischievously. "Oh, my lord, it's only just begun."
Max pushed down on her pouf enough that he could smile over the top of her head at his butler. "Too bad yours is already asleep, old man," he commented smugly.
"Let her rest up, sir. When we get home, she's got a long night ahead of her. I promised to show her how much I love this pretty costume and everything in it, and I intend to." Niles smiled to himself. These naughty wenches kept life interesting in any century.
"I'm so glad we live in this century, though," he murmured to his sleeping wife. "In any other one, you'd have been burnt at the stake -- and I'd never have known the love of the witch of my dreams."
"Huzzah!" Maxwell approved, his arms tightening around Fran.
The End
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