"You and Pete seemed to hit it off," I observed, as I tugged my boots off.

Niles smiled over at me then poured two glasses of brandy. I tugged the recliner handle on the seat to alter the chair's position and then tucked my legs under me. I accepted the glass Niles offered and leaned back comfortably, looking out into the night. Lights shone softly from other vehicles. There was a faint, unobtrusive background hum of music and voices. My companion seemed very relaxed, though perhaps it was more the passive inhalation of marijuana than genuine ease.

"Yes, we had lots in common to talk about," Niles said. I frowned for a moment before realising that he was answering my opening observation. "We even wrote an impromptu ... what did he call it? Umm ... riff! Yes, that's it." The pride in his voice was very sweet. I just knew he'd be boasting about that to his brother, when we got back. "We wrote a riff together on the keyboard he has in the bedroom."

"And there was me wondering if I should come and rescue you!" I teased. At his frown of confusion, I added, "There were a few suggestions flying round when you both left the main room."

Niles blushed. "Well, there was a ... momentary misunderstanding." He took a sip of brandy. "But no big deal."

I very nearly told him that he'd have to expect regular propositions if he continued to wear those jeans so well, but I caught myself in time and administered a mental slap on the wrist. "I'm glad you had a good time," I offered neutrally. "I must admit that when you offered to drive us, I wasn't sure that you'd really enjoy yourself. It's good to see you so relaxed." The lie I'd told Michael earlier was eating away at me. I guess I was overcompensating.

Niles smiled back at me. He opened his mouth to say something, frowned and then closed it again.

"Sorry about Maggie," I apologised, when it became apparent that he'd thought better of whatever he was going to say. "I really do appreciate your helping out, there."

"Oh, that's quite all right. We couldn't just leave her there." He smiled out into the night. "Sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll, eh? Never thought I'd be seeing that stuff at my age!"

"Your age!" I scoffed. "You're in your prime!" I flushed, wondering whether I was capable of saying *anything* that sounded innocent any more, and then added, "Bear in mind that I've got a good ten years on most of the people in that trailer, too!"

"Ah well," Niles sighed. He offered his glass over. "Here's to the old fogeys."

"To us," I agreed, clinked and sipped. Then I chuckled.

"What?"

"I think we might have to ground Maggie after tonight's little performance!"

Niles laughed with me. "I think you're right. And no allowance for a month, either."

I sighed theatrically. "Who'd be a parent?"

"Well ..." When I looked over I saw he was giving serious thought to the question. He drew a deep breath and sat up straighter. Laughing softly at himself, he shook his head. "Sorry. Spoiling the mood. So!" He looked my way and arched his eyebrows questioningly. "What's on the schedule tomorrow?"

"Well, I think we should have a good walk around, see what there is to see. I'll have to get a programme because, having spent best part of a hundred dollars on a weekend ticket, I actually have no idea which bands are on that I might want to watch!"

"Okay."

"Not that I'm holding out much hope for anyone I recognise to be on the bill. Things have moved on since I was going to concerts regularly."

"Oh, isn't Elvis appearing?" Niles frowned.

"No," I sighed, playing along. "Neither is Mozart."

"Well, that would be quite an impressive feat, considering Mozart's *dead*!" scoffed Niles.

I looked over at him curiously for a moment, wondering whether he was really unaware of the downfall of the King, before noting his twitching lips.

"Ooh, you had me there!" I admitted, and I spun the passenger chair round and stretched across to kick him lightly on the shin. Niles yelped and, reflexively, grabbed for my ankle. He set his brandy down on the dashboard and then slipped from the seat, on to his knees, even as I was struggling to pull my leg free. Maybe it was the tainted air we'd been breathing for hours, or maybe it was something else, but we were giggling and snorting like school kids as we larked about.

That is, until we realised that the play fight had left Niles lying on the floor of the Winnebago, hugging my right leg, with his face pressed against my hip as I struggled to keep from slipping off the passenger chair altogether.

I was back on that cliff-edge again.

We froze, looking at each other. I swallowed when I saw the way Niles' fair hair was tousled in play, and the way his eyes had taken on a darkened intent. The way his breath was warming my leg through my jeans.

I wasn't ready. And even if I was, it wasn't right. And in any case, I was in all likelihood misreading an innocent evening's horseplay.

The strange, suspended moment dissipated when I reached for his shoulder and pushed him away. Niles backed off immediately, for which I was grateful. He even tried to diffuse the tension with another teasing comment. "Mozart!" he ridiculed. "You should be down with the kids, like me," he said.

I laughed.

I think I laughed a little bit too loud.