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Daphne hadn't expected to end up here tonight.
Not after the candlelit dinner filled with easy laughter. Not after leaning against his shoulder as they did the washing up. And not even after their graceful gliding and spinning as they danced on the Persian rug.
Because they had been there a hundred times before. Together. Close.
Close with the man who'd once blushed if she so much as touched his arm.
But now here she was: flushed, breathless in his library, strewn indelicately across his mahogany desk - Dr Niles Crane braced over her, hands grasping and lips clinging to hers like his life depended on it.
And a rose coloured letter lying half-forgotten on the floor behind them.
-
Earlier, sitting together in the living room, the evening had started to wind down.
The tidying completed, Dr Crane passed a glass of wine to Daphne and joined her on the seat next to the fireplace. The evening grew later as the pair fell into each other, laughing as they shared jokes and stories. But as their glasses emptied, Daphne was surprised at herself; she couldn't remember the last time she had been so happy, and for some unspoken reason, she didn't want the evening to end.
It seemed that she wasn't the only one who felt this way, and the already tipsy Dr Crane stood abruptly. "One more, for the road?" He'd said with his charming little smile.
How could she resist? "Just a small one, then"
"Of course. Something white, not too heavy," he chatted, unable to hide the spring in his step as he left for the kitchen. The moment alone provided Daphne an opportunity to explore.
She knew The Montana well enough, but still loved finding new things; trinkets and special pieces that Dr Crane had chosen to adorn it. Wandering through the hallways and side-rooms, she found herself surrounded by leather spines and polished shelves - her favourite room.
The library held the scent of old books and polished wood. Daphne closed her eyes, letting herself be soothed by the peace. The soft music drifting in from the living room grew quieter as the low, amber-hued lighting welcomed her in.
Slowly searching the shelves, she pored over his ornaments and framed artworks, running her fingers over them as she read the painted quotes on love and life from his favourite authors - Austen, Forster. She found herself reading the Burroughs quote aloud:
"There is no intensity of love or feeling that does not involve the risk of crippling hurt. It is a duty to take this risk, to love and feel without defence or reserve."
She was surrounded by him - enveloped by all the things Dr Crane found most important in life, and the warm feeling of contentment bloomed deep in her chest. Smiling to herself, she trailed her fingers along the edge of his desk.
Then she saw it. Amidst the letters and books on the desk, an out-of-place pop of colour amongst the dull whites and yellows.
An envelope.
Rose coloured and half hidden behind papers and pencils on his neatly organised desk.
She tilted her head, reaching a single finger to one corner and pulling it out just enough to read the front.
Immediate intrigue caused Daphne to snatch up the sealed envelope.
It was her name. 'Daphne', written in that precise, looping script he always used when making place cards or thank-you notes.
Her heart was pounding as she ran her trembling fingers across the word. Turning it over in her hands, her fingertips had barely slid under the flap when she snatched them back away, the envelope hastily hidden behind her back as Dr Crane stepped into the room.
Without his blazer, and with his sleeves now rolled up, he looked... well, like him: no pretence, no obligation, no walls. Just him, and it made her heart flutter. The letter still in hand, a fleeting hope passed through her mind, tightening in her chest as she watched him, before she swallowed it down and let it go.
He smiled at her as the two empty wine glasses, delicately cradled in one hand, clinked together. Arching his brow, he made his way to her with the bottle tucked under his arm.
"There you are. You know, if you're still hungry, I have just made up a small tray of - "
Straightening up near his desk, Daphne made a decision. Holding the envelope between two fingers, she raised it higher to show him.
"I think this is for me."
He froze.
The bottle thunked to the floor, thankfully unbroken, as the glasses tilted dangerously before he caught them.
"Daphne," he rasped. His voice was thin with panic as he almost threw the glasses onto the closest surface, "Pl... please don't open that."
Worry filled her chest, and her body tensed after seeing his reaction. Daphne took a step back, biting her lip; what could he have possibly written to cause that kind of reaction?
"Why not? It's got my name on it."
"Please give it to me." With an arm outstretched, he leaned low, almost like he was ready to fall to his knees as he begged for the envelope. In a flash, Daphne was now in charge in a way that didn't happen very often.
It felt good. Suddenly feeling giddy with wine and mischief, all her sweetness was replaced with pure devilry.
"Why? Is it an invitation to a party? A secret soirée of some sort."
"No, Daphne, please listen to me. You don't want to read that."
"Oh, I most certainly do. Maybe it's a thank-you card?"
"- It's not -"
"- No... You wouldn't be this worked up... it must be something bad. Oh dear, maybe I upset you -"
"- You haven't -"
"- Like a letter of complaint -"
"- It's not. Please, put it down -"
"- Or it's something good, but now you're embarrassed about it -"
"- Daphne, stop. Trust me -"
"- Something sweet, but perhaps a little indiscreet - "
"- Don't - "
"- Like a love letter."
A blush ran up his newly paled cheeks. Dr Crane almost stopped breathing as he looked to the floor, all but confirming her almost absurd guess.
"Oh my God," she gasped, astonished at his reaction. Instinct took over her, and she danced a few steps back as he approached. "Is it a love letter? You... You wrote me a love letter?"
He lunged for it, gently but with enough force to startle her into retreating further, sliding along the shelves of books behind her. The excitement pulsing like electricity in her veins, her breath coming quick as she tried to understand what was happening.
"Please, give it to me."
"Not a chance!" she giggled, holding it high above her head. The possibilities, and perhaps the wine, made her sparkle with delight with an almost effervescent energy.
He reached again. She dodged easily. Laughing harder as she leaned against the bookcase ladder.
"Is it scandalous?" The envelope was tightly held to her chest. "Dr Crane, do you pine for me in a sonnet?" she teased in a mock swoon.
"Daphne, please -" He reached again, and again she slid away, twirling until she landed squarely on the edge of the desk. Dizzy with glee, her fingers toyed with the envelope.
"Do you compare me to a summer's day? No - knowing you, I'm sure it's much more original."
"Daphne... "
"I'm just flattered, truly. Do you list all the things you like about me? Perhaps alphabetically... 'Astounding legs, brilliant laugh, captivating hips -' "
"Please stop," he pleaded, flushing deeper.
"Oh, Dr Crane, it can't be that bad. Would you let me read it if I promise that nothing will change between us? No falling out, or embarrassment or anything like that. It's just a little confidence boost from one friend to another. I'll even wait until I get home. Please?"
Standing in silence, his jaw tensed with every breath. He shook his head. "Daphne... You don't understand. Everything will change."
"But it doesn't have to." She tried to reassure him, but his worry became more palpable. "We're friends! I already think you're wonderful, and nothing in here will upset me or make me never speak to you again. You have nothing to worry about."
His seriousness was slowly triggering something in her.
"Unless, of course, you're worried I'll be swept off my feet and fall hopelessly in love with you," her words danced through the air and stopped dead at his feet as he took a step back.
His head hanging low, she watched the small tremble of his hands. The laughter long gone as she felt the tension growing thick around them. Her eyes dropped to the letter again, and her heart started to pound. What could be so important? Why keep it hidden?
Her fingers slipped beneath the flap.
"Daphne, no!"
He was on her before she could blink.
She gasped, the letter flying from her hands as she fell backwards onto the desk, the flat of her back hitting firmly against the polished surface. Dizzy from the jolt, it took her a moment to realise she was being held. The bright blue of his eyes drew her in as he hovered above, his hands wrapped gently but solidly around her wrists, pinning them beside her head.
"Oh my... " she breathed.
Dr Crane's chest rose and fell above hers, eyes wide and panicked, but darkening, burning with something that wasn't wholly innocent.
And suddenly, she saw him. Really saw him.
Not simply the man she teased over coffee or rolled her eyes at across his brother's living room.
But as someone who had always made her feel cherished. Suddenly, there was no more wondering why she always searched for an excuse to be near him.
Near to this man who was now, inexplicably, standing between her legs, holding down her arms and pressing her onto his desk. Seemingly, he had also run out of ways to pretend he didn't want her.
They stared at each other, the air between them charged and wild.
She felt it first; her pulse fluttering, then his. The want curling beneath her ribs. Eagerly, she watched as his lips parted, her head tilting as she willed him to speak those words, to admit what she had hoped for.
Words died on his tongue as his gaze moved to her hands, palms up and trembling against the wood. She felt his thumbs stray, daring to smooth softly over her skin as she watched his jaw tense. The years of discipline suddenly fragile, reaching the point where the slightest gesture would shatter his resolve. Her words pierced the quiet.
"Is this how all your dates end?"
His entire body stilled.
A soft, strangled noise caught in his throat; something between a whimper and a laugh, and his grip on her wrists tightened just a fraction.
Her eyes flicked up to meet his, only inches away from hers, and the feelings she saw there, fear, hope, desire - made her stomach twist in the most exquisite way.
"Not... usually," he managed.
She saw the battle inside as he risked glances at her lips, then away again just as quickly. Her senses were overwhelmed by him, his cologne, the heavy contact of his warm body on hers.
In a move that brought a shiver to his skin, she slid a leg to curl around his thigh.
Empowered by his reaction, she leaned toward him, whispering in his ear, "Shame."
In that instant, he broke.
Their mouths met with a force that surprised them both; wine and heat and years of pretending falling apart in a single, stunning collision. His hands moved to her waist, then her hips, pulling her closer.
Instinctively, she arched into him as her fingers threaded through his hair. Her legs wrapped around his hips, tight and unthinking, drawing closer as he groaned into her mouth.
He kissed like a man starved, but careful, still asking for permission even as he devoured her. She kissed back like she desperately wanted to make him believe in her.
She felt drunk on him - on the evening. On the weight of a secret that was finally unravelling.
But she had to know. Brushing his cheek with trembling fingers, she held him still.
"Read it to me."
-
"I... " He began through his ragged breath, voice breaking. "It's too much - too soon."
Daphne felt his fear. Her pulse was still racing.
"And this isn't?" she said gently, glancing down at their bodies pressed together.
He looked as though he might weep, or faint, or both. Then, slowly, he stepped back, holding her hand to help her sit up, each movement delicate and precise.
Standing, he found himself pacing as he scooped up the letter, eventually settling into a nearby chair; he curled in on himself, closing his eyes and steadying his breathing like he was finding the courage to jump into the unknown.
Still dizzy from his kisses, she stayed on the desk, watching.
"Wh... when I wrote it," he said, not looking at her. "It wasn't meant to be read. Ever."
She sat in silence, watching his shaking hands open the letter and unfold the page. A twinge of guilt almost made her call to him, to stop him before he started. But it didn't matter. The letter existed, the words had been thought of and written. Saying them aloud didn't change the feelings that now pushed their way through her chest.
"Alright." He murmured, looking no higher than her ankles. "But please, Daphne, remember; this was not meant for anyone but myself."
She tried to sound assured, but she felt as nervous as he looked. Their eyes met. "I understand."
He began.
"Dear Daphne,
I don't expect you to ever see this, and... and perhaps that's why I can finally write it. You mean a, uh... a great deal to my family and me, and - I only hope you know how appreciated you are -"
The words sounded stunted as he said them. Almost like he wasn't reading it at all...
"- Dr Crane."
He looked up, eyes pleading to her as she caught him in the lie. He wasn't ready to be honest yet.
"Daphne, I'm sorry. I don't... I can't lose you -"
"- Niles." His breath caught as she uttered his name. Even through her own feelings of uncertainty, she gave him a reassuring smile. "Trust me."
Teeth catching his lower lip, he looked to her. In that moment, he took a deep breath... and plunged in headfirst.
Daphne listened, her heart thudding softly, to his gentle voice. Steady and exquisite.
"My Beloved Daphne,
My hand may now tremble as it writes of the truth within my heart, but I cannot deny it any longer - for in your presence, I am undone.
To say you are the light of my life is not enough. No, you are the hope-filled dawn breaking through my storm-wracked night; the sunbeam that pierces through my darkest hours.
Your smile is the flame that banishes the chill from my soul, leaving me bare and honest beneath its glow. In the warmth of your eyes, I glimpse my better self: braver, stronger, and infinitely more alive.
This confession is not a plea for reciprocation; rather, it is the unveiling of my truth, laid bare to you. Should fate decide you are to walk another path, just know that each beat of my heart will always carry your name in its secret rhythm.You see, my darling, that within the delicate curve of your hand, you hold my heart. Though you may never see it, it has already been surrendered wholly to you.
I am hopelessly, irrevocably... yours.
Yours in silent ardour and boundless hope,
Your ever adoring Niles."
The silence that followed was disturbed only by the paper folding, then the crinkle as it slid into his trouser pocket.
He wiped his eyes before clearing his throat, steadying his breathing.
In the silence, harsh dread settled in his chest.
-
The pattern on the rug held his gaze as he braced himself for the rejection. He only hoped she didn't feel betrayed, hurt by him and his deception.
Niles closed his eyes when he heard movement. Her feet met the floor as she slid off the desk. A moment later and his hand was taken into hers, the soft touch bringing goosebumps to his skin.
Still wrestling with his breathing, he startled as he looked up to her.
"Thank you for trusting me, love."
She moved to kneel beside his chair, smiling at his bashfulness, and she leaned up, tenderly kissing him on the cheek. A sob escaped him as he reached out, shattering the disbelief that she actually still accepted him. He fell to the floor and into her embrace, holding her tightly to him and burying his face into her neck.
"Oh, Daphne, thank you." He wasn't sure what for, exactly. For staying? For understanding? For not instantly rejecting him the moment he was honest?
"It was beautiful." She spoke as she ran her fingers over his neck. "Though... for all your panicking, I expected something far more scandalous."
She pulled back and saw him flush as he opened his mouth to retort, before quickly closing it.
"When did you write that?"
A non-committal shrug. He knew, but that wasn't for tonight.
Toying with his collar, she tilted her head. "Have your feelings changed?"
Looking into her eyes, he knew this was it. His one last chance to deny it all, to retreat to safety, to go back to how things were. But he was braver now. Open, raw. And he shook his head. "Not a bit."
Her lips curved. "Good."
She kissed him again, softer this time. More sure in their feelings. Because now there was no rush, they had all the time in the world.