Set in the 3^rd Season

:o) Dedicated to my addiction – "Alf" :o)

The Fan-Fic Challenge points:
1) This fanfiction must be set before anyone got married.
2) It has to be a CC/N or a F/M story. It doesn't have to have both.
3) Include a rainbow!
4) A silly accident. Nothing fatal!
5) Mention Smurfs
6) An outside activity like hiking, a baseball game or a picnic.
7) A green shirt
8) Mention Yetta
9) Binoculars
10) Brighton playing a prank.
*Thanks Katja for the challenge fanfic ideas!

Vices

by

IvanaBgood
(IvanaBgood@aol.com)

Maxwell pushed his glasses back upon his face and leaned into his chair as he looked around his office. He watched Niles overtly shaking his duster right over C.C.’s plate of cookies. A few moments later, he watched C.C. scowl at Niles. His butler’s sniggers soon turned into apprehension as he observed C.C. tap her finger on her lit cigarette. His blue eyes enlarged as the ashes prepared to fall away. Quick as a wink he grabbed the saucer sitting next to her and used it to catch the fallen embers before it could burn the expensive Oriental rug.

Maxwell sighed. Usually his butler’s and his partner’s antics never ceased to amuse him, but that afternoon something was missing.

"Hello everyone!" Fran sashayed in, her heels clicked on the wooden floor before softening atop the costly decorative rug.

The millionaire’s eyes crinkled with warmth at the sight of his children’s nanny. Now his day snapped into place.

"Hello Miss Fine!" He greeted cheerfully. "Where have you been hiding yourself all day? I’ve missed you."

Her face gentled into a happy glow. "You missed me?"

Immediately Maxwell concentrated on tidying up his desk, his voice stuttered as he tried to remedy the situation. "I-I, well, I… of course. We all did! Didn’t we?" He turned his attention away from her legs and fastened it towards the bickering couple.

C.C. looked up after kicking the fallen cookies on the floor and trying to hockey puck it towards Niles’ shin while the butler expertly used his duster to block it.

"What?" They both asked together.

Fran grimaced. "Never mind." She handed Maxwell the morning mail. "I meant to give this to you earlier, but I was detained at the police station."

Maxwell’s eyebrows rose in surprise. "What in heaven’s name were you doing there? You didn’t shanghai another baby or throw another party while I was away, did you?"

Her eyes rolled. "No… and you know, that reminds me. Sparkle Plenty hasn’t called me in weeks. That’s the last time I make friends with a hooker."

"She probably said the same thing about you!" C.C. threw her head back as she laughed.

Fran made a face at her and continued. "I was there because of my old boyfriend, Jeff, remember the one that’s a detective?"

"The one who arrested you?" Maxwell scowled at her use of the ‘B’ word.

"Yeah, that’s the one. Anyway, he put Niles’ letter in the same envelope with the invitation for the policeman’s ball that he addressed to me." Fran hopped onto the desk. "For a second there I thought I was getting hauled into prison because of those bounced checks that I then used your Mastercard to pay for, which you don’t know about, moving on…"

Niles walked closer. "What letter?"

Fran pulled out the folded paper from her purse. "This one. It says you have twenty unpaid speeding tickets. Actually I’m surprised that Mr. Sheffield doesn’t know about it since you were driving his Porsche when you got pulled over."

"What?!" Maxwell stood up behind his desk as Niles snatched the letter from Fran’s fingers.

"I’ll take care of it, sir," the dapper butler nervously replied as he stuffed the letter into his inside blazer pocket.

"See that you do," Maxwell retorted sternly then he turned his attention towards Fran while Niles walked out of the room, followed straight away by C.C. "You used my Mastercard to pay for your bills?"

Fran nodded meekly and then remarked as he was about to scold her, "And you missed me." She tenderly straightened his tie and smiled at him.

A silly smile lit his face at her closeness and attention that he quickly forgot his ire.

~~~~

Niles sat nervously before the judge and waited for her ruling. Maxwell and Fran sat behind him to lend their support. At first Niles was surprised when he saw C.C. walk in and wearing a Yankees baseball cap. Then he noticed she was holding a pennant that said, ‘Fry him!’

The papers rustled as the judge peered at the pages. "Mr. Niles-"

Fran and C.C. leaned forward and eagerly waited to hear his last name.

"Yes, your honor?" Niles interrupted and dashed their hopes.

"This is your first offense and I’m feeling agreeable today so I’ll make your sentence light. You are to pay for the twenty parking tickets and you are assigned community service. I want you to give back to our fair city and help the youngsters. There is a program that I want you to sign up for. I know of this little league team that is in desperate need of a coach."

"Little league, your Honor?"

"Yes, baseball. You do know the sport, do you not?" She peered over her glasses at him, noting his British accent.

"Vaguely."

"Then you’ll have to read up on the subject. And you do have experience with children?"

Niles glanced around to look at his supporters before answering. He watched as Maxwell accidentally pinched his thumb in between his chair’s brace and sucked on it to lessen the pain. Fran gave Niles a double thumbs up as she tried to pop her bubblegum quietly and C.C. was waving her pennant wildly, hoping to catch the judge’s attention.

"Only at work, your Honor," he sighed.

"Good! Case adjourned."

~~~~

"No, no, no!" Brighton blew out an air of exasperation. "There are three bases and that is home plate."

"This is a plate?" Niles gave the sort of triangle shaped object the once-over.

C.C. laughed as she tapped out a cigarette out of her pack. "This will be rich! What is your team going to be called Niles, ‘The New York Lackeys’?"

Niles threw her a scowl and then gave his attention back to the teenager.

"After the player at bat hits the ball he runs to first base. Then if he can, he runs to second, then third and if he reaches home he scores a point," Brighton explained.

"But what about the wickets?"

"There are no wickets. This is baseball not cricket!" Brighton then picked up a wooden bat. "This is how a player hold the bat as he waits for a pitch." He then gripped the bat in his hands, stood sideways and held the bat up to where it almost rested on his shoulder.

Just as C.C. reached for her lighter, Maxwell walked into the livingroom.

"C.C., I thought I told you no more smoking in this house."

His business partner grumbled and put everything back in her jacket pocket.

"Why the devil have you started smoking again?" he asked.

Fran walked down the stairs at that moment, "Because of the weight she put on, Mr. Sheffield. That’s very rude of you to ask. Women are very sensitive about their figures you know."

"I haven’t gained that much," C.C. scowled as she buttoned her jacket together and folded her arms in front of her abdomen.

"Of course you haven’t Miss Babcock," Fran answered soothingly. Behind C.C.’s back she mouths to everyone else, "So much!"

"Brighton, this is very generous of you to give up your spare time to help Niles learn the rules of the game. I’m proud of you." Maxwell said as he stood away from his butler who now had the wooden bat in his hands and was giving it a few experimental swings.

"Hey, what can I say, I’m a giver." The cute blond teenager shrugged his shoulders and smiled.

"I’m sure Jerry Lewis and his kids would disagree after your pledge of five hundred dollars and instead they received Monopoly money!" Fran placed a hand on her hip and waved a complaint letter with her other hand.

"But I threw in three red hotels and Boardwalk," Brighton smiled innocently.

His father gaped at him. "You will send Jerry Lewis and the Muscular Dystrophy Association real money and you will do so right now!"

"But Dad, I don’t have five hundred dollars!" He took out his wallet from his back pocket and opened it. A flash of twenties was noticeable.

"Then you will march up to your room and break open your piggy bank!"

"Oh, all right," the boy trudged up to his room in defeat.

"You know," Niles felt the need to defend Brighton’s actions, "it’s all that Pamela Anderson’s fault for sitting there behind a phone and urging us to reach down deep and give."

"I know I felt a strong need to render her aid and attention," Maxwell admitted.

The two men leered at one another.

Fran rolled her eyes and then shook her head. "All I know is that when I was Brighton's age and broke my piggy bank open to buy something, all that I found inside were bottle caps, a few pennies, lint and lifesavers. Then my ma came in and ate the lifesavers." Fran paused. "And the lint. It was stuck to the candy."

"That’s terrible, Miss Fine."

"Aww, it wasn’t too bad. Once you bite into the candy, you barely notice the lint. And you know, I did make money from the bottle caps."

"How so?"

"I glued paper clips to the caps and sold them to Val as haute couture earrings."

Maxwell smiled faintly in bewilderment.

Then Fran turned towards the blond who rose from her seat, "Miss Babcock, why don’t you just join a fitness club to lose the weight."

C.C. scowled, "I hate those places. They’re like meat markets."

"And you’re the chicken bone that nobody wants?" Niles asked guilelessly.

"Watch it, I know how to use this!" C.C. retorted threateningly and reached for the baseball bat that he had leaned against the back of the couch.

"I have the perfect solution!" Fran grinned. "Niles jogs every morning. Why don’t you join him?"

The butler gave the nanny a strong look of annoyance.

"…or maybe not." Fran stepped closer to Maxwell.

"That is an excellent idea, Miss Fine!" Maxwell said jovially. "They can help one another. C.C. happens to know a lot about baseball."

"Maxwell, I have no interest in helping that hobgoblin with anything!"

"C.C., we have an important charity ball coming up soon and I know that you want to look your best for that."

"Yes, but…"

"No, buts. Niles can put you on an exercise regiment and in turn you will be his assistant coach."

Niles and C.C. glared at one another and scowled.

~~~~

As C.C. alternately lurched, staggered, and shambled her way down the last block of her seventh morning’s venture into the world of jogging, she had a sudden grim image of countless scenes in movies where the hero fought his way across a vast, hot, trackless plain. Only in this case, she was the parched, exhausted victim. The scene was a not-too-busy, bursting-with-spring city block and the villain of the piece was the man who stood waiting impatiently for her a half-block away. He was clad in immaculate white shorts and a green shirt that really flattered his physique. His fists were on his hips and a glare distorted his repulsively handsome face. At least it was repulsive to C.C. She knew him for years and didn’t think she could hate his guts even more, but the past week proved her wrong.

C.C. always considered the sarcastic and impudent, butler as Enemy #1, but more so that morning. He chose the exact moment that C.C.’s left foot landed on a large, wobbly pebble, almost throwing her flat on her face, to shout his brand of encouragement at her.

"Come on, Babcock, shake a wing! I haven’t got all day!"

Under her breath C.C. muttered what she would do to him once she caught up and at the same time she fought an insane urge to pick up the rock that had nearly tripped her and aim it at her tormentor’s head. Only the realization that a nearby policeman was ticketing an illegally parked car stayed her hand.

Thinking about it couldn’t land her in jail, however, and the thought was so satisfying that she actually smiled as she put on a final burst of speed. Something approaching a running walk instead of a lurching stagger and finally drew up beside Niles.

Between pants C.C. managed to gasp out, "Mission accomplished, Mussolini. Now you can go devote yourself to those too young and dumb to realize they’re in the hands of a fascist dictator."

"At least they know enough to dress the part. It’s a beautiful day and the season is temperate. Why on earth are you wearing that oversized monstrosity?"

C.C. scowled at him as she lifted her sweat soaked blond hair off her neck. "I didn’t want to perspire on my designer T-shirts. And besides I don’t have to explain my sweatshirt to you," she snarled.

"Very well," he drawled with a shrug of one shoulder. Then he glanced at his watch and frowned. "Now get into the car. You’re going to make me late. You know very well that Mr. Sheffield likes to have his poached egg and toast ready promptly at eight."

C.C. drew her five-foot-seven inch frame up into a stance of martyred dignity, wondering all the while why she let Niles induce her to behave like some childish teenager instead of the early forties professional woman she was.

"Don’t put yourself out," she pronounced haughtily, some part of her wanting to wince at her own display of idiotic game playing. "I’ll walk."

Niles snorted impatiently. "And collapse before you get halfway there." He took her arm in a gentle grip and pulled her towards and inside the convertible waiting at the curb. When she turned her attention away from him, he managed to give her backside an appraising look as he shut the door behind her.

C.C. later turned a tight-lipped grimace on her nemesis who sat in his seat without benefit of catching his breath from the forty-five minute jog they just did. "I don’t need your help."

Niles muttered something under his breath as he gunned the engine into life and screeched away from the curb, throwing C.C. back in her seat with the force of his takeoff. "I cannot believe you let your health get away from you like this."

C.C. bit her lip to keep from growling a reply as she clutched her hair against the force of the wind. He was right and she knew it, but she didn’t appreciate his lack of tact, his tone of voice and certainly not his driving skills. The last thought was a result of his barely missing a garbage can that had rolled out into the street. The resulting swerve had thrown her into his shoulder and she felt even more annoyance when he absently shoved her back, as if she were a sack of potatoes. A few minutes later, Niles pulled up to the curb in front of her building, applying the brakes with such force that C.C. had to fling out a hand to save herself from going through the windshield.

She took time to bestow one last scorching glare on him before she climbed out of the car.

"I’ll be here at six tomorrow morning," he informed her in a warning tone as she limped with what dignity she could muster around the back of the car. "Try to be ready this time?"

His sarcasm almost provoked her into making an obscene gesture at him, but he had already turned away, had the car in gear, and was roaring down the street in Maxwell’s Porsche before she could complete the act.

For the first time in years, C.C. gave in slightly to a feeling of self-pity. Niles was a barbarian who obviously couldn’t conceive of people who didn’t appreciate waking with the dawn, dragging their bodies out of warm beds, dressing in ridiculous get-ups – she ignored the fact that she wore exactly what she had on almost every weekend when she stayed in – and setting off to punish themselves unmercifully in the name of healthful exercise. Without even having time for a cup of coffee to make the waking up process bearable!

C.C. tried to stifle the niggling prick of conscience that told her that she had no one to blame, but herself for her predicament. She knew that she shouldn’t have taken up smoking again and now she had a certain cellulite problem to deal with as well. But with all the jogging in the morning and then the late afternoon practices with Niles to teach him the sport of baseball, she knew her problem would be vanquished eventually.

~~~~

An hour and a half later, a freshly showered and more relaxed C.C. leaned back into the green leather couch and automatically reached into her pocket for a cigarette. She realized painfully that those days when she could relax with a smoothing smoke and a slice of coffeecake were over. With a sigh, she withdrew her hand from the empty pocket and hoped that Niles would come into the room so she could get her mind off the nicotine urge that was driving her wild with longing and make fun of him.

For once fate was on her side as Maxwell walked in and was closely followed by his butler.

"Maxwell," C.C. intoned evilly, "did you know that you have a disgusting, slimy hairball of a servant attached to your ass?"

Maxwell barely heard her as he walked towards his filing cabinet. "Hello C.C."

"I believe it fell upon the couch, sir. Would you like me to delouse it for you?" Niles held an aerosol can threateningly at C.C.

"I want the house spotless Niles, you know that," his employer answered vaguely and did a ‘whatever’ type wave over his shoulder.

Niles grin of triumphant was interrupted by the smoke he saw rising from his feather duster.

C.C.’s lighter made a tiny, but sharp sound as she snapped the cover down. She smiled as she walked out of the room, leaving Niles to play boyscout. She patted her other pocket and congratulated herself for not leaving her lighter at home and in the trash with her last pack of cigarettes.

She then walked out of the mansion and hailed a cab. In a few short hours, she managed to visit some shops, a salon, a sports store and then finally made her way to the baseball park where she was scheduled to meet Niles for the very first practice of their team. She was determined that he would pay for his insults this past week.

C.C. was gone all day so Niles had no warning when she showed up for practice looking sparklingly attractive with her new hairdo and wearing a pair of becoming blue shorts and a matching baseball jersey.

Some fathers who were dropping off their sons whistled low in appreciation. Niles commented abstractedly at the attention. "This is Miss Babcock, she will be assisting me. Today she is disguised as a woman."

Niles swung his head back to give her a more thorough inspection, his eyes opened wider and he felt the heat rise in his body temperature. The two adversaries studied one another for a long moment. Niles had an assessing gleam in his eyes that was enough of a reward for C.C.

She stepped away from him and shook hands with the parents. "Call me C.C."

She then pointed out the benches that were provided for spectators and where a number of parents were already ensconced. She also noticed that Maxwell’s son arrived with Niles.

"He’s on the team. Mr. Sheffield wants to keep him busy so he’ll get into less trouble," Niles explained.

The group of thirteen-year-old boys holding gloves and bats looked at her with distrust.

C.C., who always believed her maternal instinct skipped a gene, looked back at them with equal distrust. But her job was to sell and the words flowed easily out of her mouth.

"I like to win, what about you boys, do you like to win?"

"Yeah!" they chorused.

"Together we can crush the opposition!" C.C. raised her hand and tightened it into a fist.

The kids whooped.

Niles interrupted, "It’s not all about winning. It’s also about the joy of competition, the camaraderie of your fellow teammates, and playing outside in the fresh air."

"Yeah, yeah, blah, blah."

Niles gave C.C. poignant look. She sighed.

"Okay, what Coach Niles says is true. We’re out here for all that stuff too, but it’s fun to win and we are going to teach you skills so that you don’t fall flat on your faces and embarrass your parents. You got that?"

The boys looked at one another and then back at their coaches. They liked the way this woman talked to them as if they weren’t little kids. She said it like it was. They all nodded.

"Good! Okay, Coach Niles will assign you your positions. This is our first practice so it’s not definite. We want to see where your skills are right now. So line up!" She saw a few stragglers walking onto the field and hollered, "Hustle up or you’re water boys!"

She watched in satisfaction as everyone fell into place. ‘This might not be such a waste of time after all!’

~~~~

All the baseball practices that C.C. had with Niles the past week paid off. Niles quickly got the hang of throwing the ball into the air and pitching it to himself so that he was able to whack the ball to the boys for them to field and throw back to him. Then he had the boys sit inside the dugout and called them out individually so he could pitch to them.

C.C. stood nearby, clipboard in hand, and made notes beside each boy’s name. She found herself inexplicably nervous when she saw Brighton approach the plate.

"Let’s see what you can do," Niles said matter-of-factly as he wound up to pitch. He gave a small quick prayer that he wasn’t going to bean his employer’s son on the head.

C.C. almost shut her eyes when the first pitch came, but although she clenched her fingers around the pen with such intensity that they rapidly became numb, she kept her eyes open as Brighton swung the bat and missed.

C.C. felt disappointment for the boy then she saw the look of determination come over his face. She held her breath as Niles wound up for the next pitch and then heard the crack of the bat on the ball and saw the small white object go sailing out over the field. She wanted to yell out with excitement and something akin to pride, but managed to keep it all intact. Unfortunately the same couldn’t be said for her pen. It snapped in half in her hand.

A low, masculine chuckle sounded from behind her before an attractive voice said, "Your boy looks as if he’s going to be a winner. And here, I have a replacement for you." The stranger handed her a pen from his back pocket.

C.C. tipped her head up to look at whomever had spoken and found herself gazing into two bright, clear blue eyes set in an attractively rugged face. While it wasn’t particularly handsome, it was cheerfully appealing.

"Thanks," she beamed at the man who had had the good sense to appreciate her enthusiasm. "I’m not his mother, but I work with his father. Do you have a boy out there?"

The man nodded. "My nephew," he said with easy friendliness. "His father died last year and I’m trying to fill in. He’s the blond boy waiting his turn at bat."

C.C. turned to look at the boy, who was sturdy and serious as he nervously swung his bat back and forth. Then she became aware that the man who had been standing behind her took a few closer steps towards the field.

"I can see better from here," he said tensely as he nervously watched his nephew being put through the paces.

When the boy hit a respectable shot she grinned with his uncle and made a notation next to the boy’s name on the clipboard.

During the rest of the practice, the man was surprised to learn how much C.C. knew about baseball.

"My father loves the sport," she told him. "I went to many Yankee games with him when he was home from business trips. My brother Noel was suppose to go as well, but he preferred to watch ballet with our mother."

Finally, as the tryouts came to a close and C.C. and her companion exchanged looks of mingled relief, he suddenly smiled and held out his hand. "I’m Bill Carson, I’m a mechanic," he introduced himself with a touch of sheepishness at having waited so long to tell her his name. "Billy was named for me," he added with a hint of pride.

C.C. took his hand and shook it, giving him an answering smile. "C.C. Babcock.. I’ll be helping Niles with the team."

"Nice to meet you, C.C. I’ll tell you what, allow my nephew to play more than he sits on the bench and I have a car battery I could bribe you with."

His teasing smile was easy going and C.C. decided that she like it enormously.

"Would you like to take the boys out for something to eat when they’re finished here?"

C.C. enjoyed his look of appreciation and grinned back. "That sounds wonderful to me," she told him with complete naturalness.

"Good," he returned with satisfaction before turning his gaze to the dugout. "It looks as if they’re about finished. Let’s go see if the boys can stomach a hamburger and a Coke on top of all those butterflies that must be floating around in their middles."

"CC!"

Her head whipped around towards the familiar voice that called out to her and her face broke out into an enthusiastic grin. "Noel! What are you doing here?!"

"I’ve come to visit my favorite sister, of course!" They hugged.

"Did D.D. get tired of you?" She smirked as she pulled away.

"Almost immediately," he remarked with feigned hurt.

They both laughed.

"So I arrive in New York to find that you’re coaching a Little League Baseball team?" his eyebrow arched in amusement.

"It’s part of a deal I made with Maxwell," C.C. explained. "You have great timing! The practice just now finished and we’re going to get something to eat. Why don’t you join us?"

"I would love to."

"Oh, and Noel this is Bill. Bill this is my brother Noel."

They shook hands.

"Nice to meet you. You’re the ballet lover."

C.C. chuckled at Noel’s puzzled expression. They followed her until she excused herself so she could meet up with Niles. She didn’t notice Niles’ look of annoyance until she almost ran into him.

"Nice of you to join us," he remarked.

Her smile vanished and she showed him all the work she had accomplished. Niles noticed her neatly written observations about the areas in which each child needed to work on and what they excelled at. Each player’s batting and fielding percentages were carefully printed next to their names. He looked at her apologetically. "Thank you."

C.C. nodded, a retort quickly died in her throat as he smiled quickly at her. She was never so grateful in her life for the control she’d learned over the years. His dark blond hair was tousled by all the activity and endearingly long at the neck, as though he needed it cut. His eyes were the deepest ocean blue C.C. had ever seen.

‘Why am I all of a sudden noticing his eyes?!’

"Your chicken scratches will come in handy," he added with a wry grin.

‘Another poultry joke, just like clockwork,’ was her inward reply. It was a relief that his words had broken the spell she’d been under. It was nice to feel the twinge of irritation they invoked. Lovely, self-protective, healing irritation.

Outwardly, however, C.C. gave Niles a look of unconcern. "It was easy to do and I had great company while I did it."

She wanted to crow with a sense of satisfaction when she saw that her words had not only disconcerted Niles, but they had made him somewhat irritable.

"Oh, really?" he asked, unable to conceal the crossness he was feeling. "Who?" That’s when he noticed her companion and flashed the man who walked up to her with a quick look of equal displeasure.

Niles felt an overpowering need to stake his claim when Bill and Billy Carson strolled up. Bill came up to C.C. and looked down at her with an expression only a man who was interested in a woman as a woman would bear and asked casually, "Are we ready to go eat? Billy and I are starved."

"I know I’m hungry," Brighton piped up as he walked over and heard that bit of conversation. "How about it, Niles? Sorry…Coach Niles?" He watched curiously when he noticed that Niles wasn’t listening.

C.C. saw Niles’ eyes slowly run down her body and take in the way she was dressed and how attractive she looked. Then he turned his gaze to Bill, whereupon his mouth tightened and a jealous anger sprang into his eyes.

"Hey, you’re pretty good with that glove Billy!" Brighton nodded at his teammate.

"Thanks Brighton! Looks like you know your way around a bat," Billy nodded back.

This helped diffuse the situation although the kids didn’t realize that.

"Hi, I’m Bill Carson. I’m Billy’s uncle. I’d like to thank you for taking the time to volunteer and coach his team." Bill stuck his hand out, confusion in his face at the look the blond man was throwing at him.

Niles was able to get his emotions under control and shook his hand. "It’s a pleasure. Billy is a fine lad."

Bill thought he must have imagined the glare. "Would you and Brighton like to join us for a bite to eat? I’ve already asked the ravishing half of this coaching team and she has deigned to dine with us."

Before Niles could answer, he saw the special smile that C.C. threw Bill’s way. Had C.C. been looking at Niles to see his reaction, it would have made her heart race in puzzlement and hope. He looked stunned and then shaken at the sight. Her grin lit up her face into something approaching awe-inspiring beauty. Finally, he dragged his eyes away by an act of sheer will.

"Niles - so you were roped into this fiasco as well?"

Niles turned towards the voice and recognized C.C.’s brother. "Hello, this is a surprise."

Noel nodded and noticed the tension in the air between his sister and Maxwell’s butler. He recognized the signs and grinned to himself. ‘This visit may turn out enjoyable after all.’

~~~~

At the crowded restaurant, C.C. found herself led to a small table and joined by the boys, while her brother, Niles and Bill were led to the table across the aisle from them. C.C. determinedly kept her eyes off Niles, although he had seated himself where that made it a difficult task to accomplish. She managed to banter with the boys and told them what they needed to work on. She was in the middle of listening to overlapping descriptions of their prowess at the sport and therefore did not hear Niles’ question to Noel.

"She’s got her own little fan club, hasn’t she?" he remarked in amazement.

"It’s a surprise to me as well. C.C. was never one to spend time with children even when she was one!" Noel chuckled, his eyes displaying fond affection as he slanted a look at C.C.

Bill Carson chimed in then, making Niles slice his eyes to him with cool challenge. "Well, I only met her today, but I can attest to her effect on the male sex no matter how old they are," he said with a grin. "She’s got me floored all right, and I’m not going to waste a minute dilly dallying around. Excuse me."

Bill got to his feet, came around behind C.C. and bent to her ear. Niles’ eyes grew colder as he saw C.C. smile and nod in agreement to something. Then Bill was back, and Noel sent a wicked grin at him.

"Well?" he inquired humorously. "Were you successful?"

Bill looked like a cat who had just dined on canary. "Yep," he said expansively. "She’s going out to dinner with me in three days time." He shook his head in wondering satisfaction. "I can’t believe my luck. How do you suppose she’s stayed single?"

Niles, of course, had a ready remark, but contained it. Noel, however, was more forthcoming.

"Oh, she’s had her chances, never doubt it." Noel shrugged and shook his head. "But she’s headstrong and knows what she wants and what she wanted was to be successful in her own right. She excelled in her business classes, received her degree and has made her own millions without depending on our parents’ fortunes."

"She’s rich?" Bill interrupted, sounding surprised and somewhat daunted by the knowledge.

"Yes, she and her partner Maxwell Sheffield have been successful over the years with enough plays to keep their names well known.

"Wait a minute… Maxwell Sheffield… he’s a Broadway producer! My sister loves the theater and has mentioned him numerous times. That means that she is… C.C. Babcock! I thought that name sounded familiar."

"Probably heard it being yelled out at some dark street corner," Niles mumbled.

"It will take a special man to catch her," Noel remarked.

"Because she keeps escaping from the pound." Niles mumbled again.

Bill gave him a curious look and opened his mouth to say something when the waitress arrived with their food. Noel sat back, enjoying his plan coming to fruitation. He watched as Niles kept glancing across at his sister and tried not to throw dirty looks at Bill.

Finally, the moment came when everyone was finished with their meal and they all headed out to their cars to go home. Bill called after her.

"I’ll pick you up at seven thirty, C.C., all right?"

C.C. gave him a brilliant smile, since Niles was standing within hearing distance. "That sounds fine. What shall I wear?"

"Something slinky," Bill laughed, giving her a light-hearted leer. "I’m in the mood to dance."

C.C. returned his laugh, imparting just a hint of seduction into it. "Me too."

And as she turned away, she had the empty satisfaction of seeing Niles’ grim look of annoyance directed first at Bill and then at her.

~~~~

The next day, Fran stood in front of the hallway mirror, eyeing her make-up when she spotted the handsomely suited figure walking behind her.

"Mr. Sheffield, where are you going? We were suppose to drop off Gracie to her ballet class remember and then stop to get ice cream?"

Maxwell barely looked up from the paperwork he was holding. "I’m sorry Miss Fine, you’ll have to go on without me. I’m needed at the theater. You know how it is." He spared her a quick smile and was soon out the door.

Fran looked after him despondently. "Yeah, I know how it is. That’s the fourth time you’ve canceled out on me this week because of work." She pouted and decided that she and a quart of chocolate chip ice cream needed to have a meeting of their own. Just as she entered the kitchen, a knock interrupted her heart-to-heart with the frozen dessert. She quickly opened the back door.

Her grandmother shuffled in, "Frannie!"

"Yetta! How are you, sweetie? Wait a minute, how did you get here?"

"I brought her," a Scottish brogue piped up from below.

Fran’s brown eyes widened in surprise, but she quickly tried to hide her astonishment at the sight of the diminutive man in a blue costume smiling up at her.

"That’s Elliot Connolly," Yetta said in between coughs, a cigarette lodged firmly between her fingers. "I told him that you’d be interested in him. He just finished doing a show for us at the home. He does a great Elvis."

"I’m an entertainer." Elliot remarked smugly as he smoothed his short snowy white beard with his minuscule hand. His eyes traveled up Fran’s legs and…

Fran quickly pushed her skirt down and moved away from ogling range.

"Right now, I’m on my way to this kid’s birthday party," he continued, "or I’d take you out for a drink. However, I’m a true professional and the birthday boy is waiting for Papa Smurf to start the show." He reached for and kissed the back of Fran’s hand. Then he placed a red stocking cap on his baldhead, turned around, walked a few paces and yelled back that he’d call her.

Fran yelled back, "Uh… I don’t have a phone and my carrier pigeon is sick with the flu!" She then turned to her grandmother, "Yetta!"

Elderly eyes peered back at her through thick lenses, "What? You told me that you’re attracted to men who have an accent, in show business, and who have gorgeous thick hair."

"I meant on the head, Yetta!"

Her grandmother shrugged. "Picky, just like your mother. Although, her standards dropped when she met your father."

Fran walked over to the counter to pour them cups of coffee while Yetta sat at the table.

"Ya know, your last name coulda been Grant if your Ma wasn’t so stubborn."

"How’s that?"

"Well, I told her that working behind a candy counter was a dead-end job. TV news, that’s where you go to catch successful men! Lou was a bit portly, but no more so than your father. Then that cap tossing girl… oy… what was her name again…?" Yetta snaps her fingers, "Mary Richards! She gets the job instead of my Sylvia."

Fran brings over two cups and pats her grandmother’s hand. "You’re talking about The Mary Tyler Moore Show, Yetta. You really need to stop watching so much TV at the home."

"Gotta do something in between the ‘Who’s Got the Most Phlegm’ contest on Tuesdays and the Canes vs. Walkers race on Thursdays," she coughed loudly and reached for her steaming mug as the kitchen door swung open.

"I knew I smelled something delicious!" C.C.’s face beamed.

"Oh, hi Miss Babcock. It’s a fresh pot of coffee, help yourself."

"Not that!… This!" And C.C. stepped into the cloud of cigarette smoke that drifted away from Yetta. Her eyes closed in contented ecstasy.

Fran took the butt from her grandmother and stubbed it out.

"Noooo!" C.C. collapsed against the kitchen counter.

"Miss Babcock, you quit. No smoking for you."

"I wasn’t going to take a drag. I just wanted to inhale all the smoky goodness."

Yetta leaned into her granddaughter, "Isn’t she the bimbo who keeps trying to steal your husband away from you?"

"No Yetta, she works with Mr. Sheffield."

"You call your husband mister?" Then Yetta winked at her. "Oh, I get it - playing boss and secretary. Your grandpa and I use to do the same thing. He loved it when I gave him dictation."

Fran sighed and gave up.

~~~~

Two days later, Maxwell was walking past the staircase and looked up at the sound of swishing taffeta. His eyes widened in appreciation as Fran glided down in a black gown with a metallic brocaded halter-top. His thoughts were on how kissable her slim arms looked in the sleeveless dress.

"Oh, Miss Fine, don’t you look lovely!"

Her lips parted into a big smile. "Thanks! You like?"

"It’s very nice."

"Just nice?" Her tone turned to disappointment.

"Did I say nice? I meant spectacular." He smiled at her appreciatively.

"Oh, good! This is the sixth gown I’ve tried on all day and I was hoping this one was it."

"You bought six designer gowns?!" He sighed, "Where’s my Mastercard?"

"I didn’t actually buy them, silly!" She sauntered pass him, enticingly flashing him a tanned leg through the high slit of her gown.

"Hmm…?" Maxwell smiled, enjoying the view. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you know how it is when you go to buy a car? That’s what I’m doing, taking this out for a spin, to see how it handles the curves."

As Fran twisted around to view her backside in the mirror, she failed to notice Maxwell’s reaction. His eyes followed her every step.

"I think that it handles them beautifully," he assured her as his eyes traveled past the back of her legs, up past her slim hips and onto the smoothness of her bare back. Without realizing it, he walked closer.

"Thanks, Mr. Sheffield. You don’t know how much your opinion means to me." His face softened in response. "I hope that Jeff feels the same way." Fran missed the look on his face as it changed from admiration to scowling concentration.

"Jeff? Is he on his way over now?"

"Yes, the Policeman’s Ball is tonight."

Maxwell tried to keep his tone light, but it was a losing battle. "I didn’t realize."

"That’s okay, Mr. Sheffield. I know how busy you’ve been."

"I didn’t have to be," he commented crossly to himself, realizing how many days he let slip by when he could have spent time alone with Fran.

Fran patted his arm. "I worry about you, Mr. Sheffield. I think you work too much. You need to learn to hand out certain responsibilities to all those employees you have on the payroll. Take me for example. The other day when you canceled out on me, I asked Ma to take Gracie to her ballet class. And Niles has been watching Brighton for me now that he coaches his baseball team. And Maggie, well she’s old enough to…" Fran finally realized what she was saying and who she was saying it to. "… know that she better come to me and ask for permission before she goes out with that flashy singer from that grungy rock band."

Maxwell’s eyes crinkled in amusement. "I knew hiring a door-to-door cosmetics girl wasn’t a mistake…." He then frowned when the last of her remarks penetrated. "What rock singer? Near my little girl?!"

"You put that furrow away on that forehead, mister. It’s taken care of. Trust me."

Grudgingly, Maxwell let it go when Fran looked up at him and flashed him such an attractive smile. He returned it two-fold.

"You hired me to take care of your children and your wish is my command." She folded one arm over the other like a genie and gave her head a quick nod.

They shared a light-hearted chuckle and Fran leaned into him.

He breathed in her exotic perfume and confessed, "In that case, I wish that I hadn’t worked so much this past week, Miss Fine." Maxwell replied huskily.

The doorbell rang. Fran fought down the wave of heated sensuality that swept over her at his words and tone and forced herself to reply practically. "Me too, but since I don’t live in a bottle and you’re not Major Nelson, I better go answer that door. It’s probably Jeff."

Maxwell felt his chest tighten as he watched her walk away from him and towards another man.

Fran felt torn. On the one hand, she was annoyed with Mr. Sheffield’s timing, but she would have rather spent the rest of the evening with him. She pulled open the door and Jeff’s reaction when he saw her was extremely gratifying to her ego. It had been a long time since Mr. Sheffield had looked at her with such hungry admiration. ‘I may shop too much and spend way too much money, but sometimes it’s worth it!’

"Hi Jeff!"

"Hi! Wow, Fran - is that all for me?!"

"If you’re good! Come on in," she invited with a warm smile. "Would you like a drink before we go?"

"I wish I could," he replied in disappointment.

"So Jeff, taking time from playing cops and robbers tonight, eh?" Maxwell walked over, his hands clenched inside his pockets.

"It’s Steadwell, right?"

"Maxwell."

The two men exchanged dark looks.

Then the detective turned his attention back to his date. "Like I was saying Fran, I’m sorry to have to do this to you, but on my way over I received a call on the radio. A couple of new leads have just turned up on this case that I’ve been working on."

"Oh, Jeff!"

"I know, I’m sorry."

"Well, then you better toddle off and rid our mean streets then," Maxwell remarked smugly.

Jeff ignored him. "I’m really sorry about this Fran." He smiled sadly and left.

Fran closed the door after him and sighed. Then she flashed the man behind her a look of annoyance. "You were so rude to him!"

"I was not. You’re just not use to how real men talk to one another. We don’t need to get in touch with our feminine side."

"Please don’t start adjusting things or loosening your pants," Fran held her hand up, "at least not until I get my camera!"

Maxwell chuckled with her. Then, "Niles won’t be home for dinner and neither will the children. We could go out and get something to eat? It would be a shame to waste that dress."

He crooked his arm gallantly towards her and Fran happily hooked her arm inside.

~~~~

Earlier that day, Niles answered the door to find C.C.’s brother standing there.

"Niles, what are you doing here? Don’t you care at all what could happen to my sister?"

The butler stepped back and let him pass. "Whatever are you talking about?"

"My sister is going out on a date with that Bill person."

Niles grimaced and shrugged. "He seems nice enough."

"What if he’s a psychotic maniac? Did you see how crazy he went at the baseball game yesterday after his nephew hit the ball?"

Niles threw him a look, "What? He can’t be. He seems like a decent sort. And if you noticed, all the parents act that way when their child does well. One mother clangs cymbals."

"Niles, believe me, I’ve studied criminal behavior. When some psycho ends up killing his girlfriend, what’s the first thing his neighbors and friends say to the reporters? ‘I wouldn’t suspect him of all people,’ ‘He was a normal, hard working man,’" Noel remarked mockingly.

The butler took a few steps away then turned back, "No… he can’t be… besides, I know that they are on their date. Miss Babcock left work early today."

"I know, I just saw them leave. He was not acting gentlemanly."

Niles’ eyebrows met in a frown, "What was he doing?"

"I’ll tell you in the car because you need to drive us to the restaurant. I took a cab over here." He stepped behind Niles and began pushing him towards the door. "Come on, we need to hurry."

"I am not going to interrupt their date." He replied, firmly planting his feet.

Noel tried one last time, "Niles, isn’t it better to be safe than sorry?"

Many scenarios began to fill the butler’s mind. All of them ending with C.C. hurt by this clown who Niles had always disliked from the get-go. But then she could take care of herself. The last thing she would want would be for him to crash in like a scene from ‘Die Hard’, with his white tank top torn and bloodied from all the life threatening actions he had to endure. He imagined his chest heaving from the physical exertion of flying threw the big picture window, dodging bullets, and finally knocking Bill down to get to C.C. who launched herself into his arms, grateful and very horny.

"Yippie-kye-yay," Niles said with a macho sneer on his face, doing his best Bruce Willis imitation.

"What are you talking about?" Noel looked at him in puzzlement.

Niles shook his head in embarrassment, an image of C.C. in his mind, looking at him the way Miss Fine’s mother stares at a slice of cake. "One moment."

Noel watched him dash into the library then heard murmurs in the room. One voice sounded like Sheffield’s. Then Niles came out.

"Right then, let’s go." He had keys in his hand.

Moments later, the car’s tires screeched as they pulled out and with a quick flick of his wrist, Niles aimed a small black box over his shoulder, pushed a red button and closed the door to the garage. Noel hurriedly put his seatbelt on right after Niles did.

"For once C.C. didn’t exaggerate! You are a maniac behind the wheel!"

"I can assure you that I am in complete control," the butler threw a quick smile of assurance at his nervous passenger.

Noel watched Niles quickly pass three cars and then somehow fit into a space between two other vehicles in the next lane. "I think I misspoke earlier when I said that we needed to hurry. Please take your time," his voice shook a little.

"Now tell me," Niles drove back into the prior lane that was now moving faster than the one he was in, "what ungentlemanly act did Bill do?"

"When CC entered the room," Noel grimaced and squeezed his eyes shut as their car accelerated again and was now ahead of the pack of traffic, "he failed to stand up."

"That’s it?!" Niles gave him an incredulous stare

"Watch the road! Watch the road!" Noel practically screamed as a large panel truck drove away from the curb and pulled out in front of them.

Niles’ fingers expertly grip-slid around the steering wheel and smoothly veered the Porsche quickly around the Wonder Bread delivery truck. He accelerated again and then groaned when he saw flashing lights in his rear view mirror. He slowed down the car and pulled up to the curb.

Two police officers stepped out of their squad car. One stood by the passenger side of their car while the one who drove walked up to Niles.

Niles tried to grin winningly at the female cop. "Is there a problem, officer?"

"License and registration please."

Niles quickly handed both over.

The policewoman pushed her cap up. "Did you see that sign back there?"

Niles nodded.

"Then you know that the speed limit is 45 M.P.H. You were going well over that. Can you tell me why?"

The butler thought fast and with a smile he hoped would beguile her, "Um… I’m dyslexic?"

The policewoman laughed and handed over his identification and paperwork, "Just be careful from now on."

"Yes ma’am!" Niles turned the ignition back on and cautiously joined the speed of traffic.

Noel watched it all happen with amusement and admiration.

Back to Fan Fiction

Back to The Really Unofficial Nanny Home Page