"So," I said brightly, when it was obvious neither of us were about to fall asleep, and the silence was too much, and I was desperate for an ice-breaker. "Looks like I should have faked my own death a long time ago."

Yes, it was a pretty stupid thing to say.

Daphne thought so too, if the way she turned over, grabbed a pillow and began beating me soundly with it was anything to go by. And it wasn't the playful, affectionate beating; I could tell the difference. I curled up on my side and tried to protect myself as best I could.

When she'd run out of steam, she pressed the pillow to the side of my head and leaned her weight on it.

"Tell me you didn't mean that," came a muffled demand.

"I didn't mean that," I complied.

There was one further shove of rebuke, then the pillow was removed.

"Not even in jest, Niles," Daphne said sternly.

"I'm sorry. Forgot to engage brain before speaking," I apologised.

I looked round cautiously, and saw that Daphne was no longer poised to pummel me, so I rolled on to my back. I offered an arm as olive branch, and was quite ridiculously pleased when Venus softened that frown, smiled, and tucked herself into my half-embrace.

"It's been quite a day," I tried again, rather less provocatively.

"You could say that," she agreed. "You could also say that it's been a complete sod of a day." There was a pause, before her familial loyalties kicked in. "Except for watching Michael."

"Yeah, that was good," I nodded agreeably. "And I quite enjoyed the kissing part, too."

Daphne snorted and then said, "Maggie will be pleased to hear that."

"You know very well which kissing part I meant," I objected, and risked digging at her sides. I struck gold and hit the ticklish spot I'd first discovered back in 1997, on that heavenly afternoon when I'd agreed ... oh all right, when I'd invited myself along ... to go ice-skating with Daphne and Frederick, and accumulated fourteen bruises, ice-burn across my jaw, blisters and goodness only knows what else from the public-hire skates, and several delicious memories of using my flailing lack of balance to grasp at the nearest support, which, rather consistently, just happened to be attached to Daphne ...

She squeaked and rolled over me, successfully distracting me from the ticklish spot.

"What?" she asked me after a few moments, and I realised I'd probably been enjoying the view too long.

"I just can't quite believe I've got my arms around you," I replied honestly.

"You haven't," she teased. "This is all a dream, and we'll wake up in the morning and go back to you sneaking sniffs of my hair and me pretending not to notice."

Oops.

"You knew I did that?" I asked.

Daphne arched her eyebrows with no small suggestion of chagrin. "Somewhere buried so deep that it took seeing Maggie throw herself at you to shake it out of me."

"Oh." I reached up with my hand and tucked her straying hair behind her ears. "Well, if this is a dream, I might be able to steal another kiss ..."

"Or I might suddenly turn into a tuxedo-wearing baboon and start to croon my way through a rendition of 'The Way We Were'."

Is it any wonder I managed to fall passionately in love with this woman?

"I like my dream better," I said, and tightened my clasp to pull her down to me.

My mind had just halteringly processed the statement, 'Oh my god it's really going to happen!' when our embrace was interrupted again. No envious pinecone had cut-in on *this* occasion, merely a young woman from Yorkshire, who gasped an "Oh!" from nearby, just as I was working up to the same thing myself.

Daphne and I separated hurriedly, and I wasted a few seconds wondering whether I should check that my body remained suitably hidden beneath the bedclothes, or growl menacingly at Maggie and throw pillows at her until she went away. By the time I'd decided that neither option was particularly becoming, the intruder spoke again.

"Bollocks," Maggie observed, less than congratulatory. "I owe Michael five dollars."

Daphne managed to snort a laugh. "He's known me a little bit longer than you have, Mags."

"Looks like," Maggie nodded through the semi-darkness. "Fine. Well, carry on. But next time, Daph, we are *definitely* taking separate motor homes."

And with that, she slipped back into the rear cabin and swished the door closed, spoiling the dramatic effect by getting the concertina-door stuck half way and wrestling with it until it met her demands.

When we were alone again, Daphne and I looked at each other.

"I'm not really good with an audience," she finally remarked, and her expression was so tentative, it seemed she expected me to take offence. I was going to have to spend time showing her that being romanced by Niles Crane would be a little different to the groping, under-deodorised Cro-Magnon men she was used to.

"Me neither," I agreed, and smiled at the relief which washed over Daphne's face. "But - I'd still like to hold you. If that's okay with you?"

"I reckon that'd be okay," she agreed, and we curled up together and got comfortable. "Everything else besides," she finally yawned, "after a day like this one, I think it would be safest if I kept a track of your whereabouts for a little while."