Disclaimer: These characters are not mine, though my heart would love to claim them. I receive no compensation for using their likenesses.

Locus Amoenus

1.

"Bloody American feast," Niles muttered to himself as he clattered the roasting pan back into the oven. He tipped the oven door closed and swore when it fell back open. "Make a full Thanksgiving feast, Niles. No, we don't need a new oven, Niles. Of course you can cook everything in one oven and have it ready by dinner. Just manage your time, Niles."

He closed the oven door successfully, turned around, and groaned when he saw CC standing on the other side of the island with her eyebrows raised.

"I suddenly understand why the holidays are a time of increased suicide," she remarked.

"A natural result of people seeing your face?" Niles guessed.

CC glared at him. "I thought you could use one of these," she held up two bottles of beer, "but if you're going to have that attitude…"

"No, no," Niles said, mollified by her kindness and the idea of alcohol. "If I don't, you'll just drink it all and ruin Thanksgiving dinner."

CC popped off the top of both beers and handed him one. "You even managed to turn a kind gesture on my behalf into an insult used against me. Here's to the holiday spirit."

"Here's to a terrible Thanksgiving," Niles toasted, clinking his beer against the neck of her bottle. Niles made an appreciative sound after his first sip and looked down at the bottle. "Hm. My favorite."

CC resisted the urge to tell him that she knew it was his favorite as he turned back to the stove and stirred his caramelizing onions. "So why the hate for Thanksgiving?"

He turned from the stove and sat down at the kitchen table where she had just sat down as well. "Contrary to most American's beliefs, we Brits don't celebrate Thanksgiving, you know."

"Contrary to most Americans, I actually had a real education. I know that," she replied, rolling her eyes. "But you've been here long enough. Holiday spirit hasn't infected you?"

Niles put on a faux-thoughtful face. "No, it hasn't. Perhaps when I got immunized to you, it also made me immune to holidays centered around a feast which I have to spend all day preparing and get no time to enjoy."

CC pouted. "Poor Niles." She tipped her bottle back and took a generous sip. Niles watched her throat work, her soft pearls contrasting beautifully with the brash beer. He resisted the urge to tell her how beautiful she looked with her hair in soft waves and a black sweater hugging her curves.

"Look at it this way," she suggested, leaning back against the kitchen chair, "the Fines will be here this year. So even if you screw a dish up, they aren't likely to notice since they'll just swallow the food whole."

Niles laughed, pointing the mouth of his bottle towards her. "Great point."

"And no matter what you do, you won't impress me," CC reminded him.

"Another great point. Pressure's off," Niles said, loosening his tie. CC gave him a genuine smile, hoping it would mask her thoughts which were currently swirling around the idea of grabbing his tie and pulling him towards her. Niles's next question snapped her out of her reverie. "Why are you here this year? No ritual sacrifice with your family?"

CC winced. "The one who's usually sacrificed is me." She spotted the look of confusion on Niles's face and continued quickly, "But no. My father's in France with his latest cliché of a girlfriend. My sister's there too, but I doubt they're spending time together, and my brother's stuck at Northwestern with midterms or something."

"What about your mother?" CC shrugged and Niles didn't press. "Well, we're glad to have you." At CC's cocked eyebrow, Niles amended, "We're glad to have your dog here."

CC nodded. "That sounds more right."

Later that day, a ravenous CC sat at the long table near the end. She tapped the tips of her fingers against her knee, wanting more than anything to dig into the plate of food before her. So, naturally, Nanny Fine proposed every person at the table go around and say what they were thankful for this holiday. She zoned out as Sylvia listed her fifth favorite bakery and didn't return to the conversation until she heard her name.

"Ok, that's everyone. Let's dig in!" Maxwell announced.

"You forgot CC," Grace pointed out, her voice raised to be heard above the din. Sylvia paused with a laden fork poised near her mouth.

CC looked around at everyone staring at her. Her eyes settled on Niles's face, which looked like it was fighting back laughter. "I'm thankful that you all almost forgot I was here so I didn't even have to make something up. Cheers!"

The hungry Fines and oblivious Sheffields (except perhaps Grace, who fleetingly gave CC a sympathetic look) began eating straightaway. CC spotted Niles slipping into the kitchen with a full plate and looked around for a few moments. It was not likely that she'd be missed. Grabbing another slice of turkey and one more roll, CC quietly left the table with her plate and walked into the kitchen.

"Mind if I join you?" CC asked, setting her plate down in the same spot from earlier.

With a full mouth, Niles pushed the seat out in response. She settled down and began eating. "You didn't want to eat with a crowd?"

"Please. Yetta was explaining in painful detail about her latest hemorrhoid," CC said. "The conversation devolved from there, if you can believe it."

"Then I, for one, am thankful for a hemorrhoid-free Thanksgiving," Niles said.

CC nodded and swallowed a particularly large bite. "I lied earlier. I am actually thankful for this delicious food."

"Step up from Alpo, huh?"

CC looked at him. "The second time you've ruined something nice I was about to say."

"You're right, you're right," Niles allowed. "Ok. Go on complimenting my fabulous cooking."

CC eyed him appraisingly. "All right. Just because I'm in the holiday spirit. This is a wonderful meal."

"That's it?" Niles said, deflating like a balloon.

"Do you do things for the gratification of a job well done or for praise, Niles?"

"Praise, obviously," Niles replied dismissively.

"Then I regret to inform you that you chose the absolute worst employer, then," CC pointed out.

"I didn't exactly choose him, but it's another good point nonetheless," Niles agreed. "Now let's get back to this 'praise' we were discussing."

"With all this discussion, now it's cold. So I have nothing good left to say," CC told him, dramatically pushing her food around her plate with the fork.

Niles slumped his shoulders and looked so dejected that CC laughed and reached out, resting her hand on top of his. Niles stopped himself in time from automatically turning his hand around and locking his fingers with hers, but only just.

"I'm kidding, you big baby butler," CC said. "I've had a lot of Thanksgiving meals, but this is the best I've ever had." She added a quick squeeze to his hand and then brought it back right away. Both immediately missed the warmth.

"The best you've ever had, you say?" Niles asked in a teasing tone before eating some mashed potatoes.

"Oh, the absolute best," CC said. "It'll keep me satisfied for hours."

"You bet, baby," Niles replied, his voice dropping low and mingling just enough truth in it to make CC wonder, not for the first time, exactly what they were playing at.

CC cleared her throat and took a sip of her water. "You'll have quite a clean-up on your hands." She'd intended to change the subject, of course, but Niles broke into laughter and CC couldn't resist doing the same.

The rest of the meal passed in easy conversation, and by the time their plates were empty, Max and Fran walked into the kitchen hand-in-hand. If they were surprised to find Niles and CC eating together, neither said anything.

"Niles, we were thinking of having dessert in the living room. It's a bit cozier in there," Maxwell told him.

"Of course, sir," Niles said, standing up and following the couple out of the room. CC's heart dropped a little at the sir, at the automatic supplicating way in which Niles uttered it. It had always been difficult, even from the first time she met Niles, for CC to reconcile the quick-witted, articulate man she talked to with the servant of Maxwell Sheffield. Something didn't add up for her, and she often felt annoyed when Niles reacted in ways that screamed butler! to her.

She followed everyone into the living room, settling herself on the corner of the piano bench which had been relocated next to the overstuffed armchair. She watched Niles hand a plate of pie to Fran, who asked for a bigger piece. Niles didn't remind her that she'd just loudly announced, several times, that she couldn't possibly eat another bite. He passed out a plate to each person in the room, remembering without asking which pie was their favorite. It occurred to her the silly hypocrisy of her situation: she cringed in irritation at the type of servitude required to remember what Fran's father's favorite pie was, even though he wasn't a regular visitor to the Sheffield home, and yet it made her nearly giddy that he remembered what her favorite foods were.

Niles reached her last, offering a plate of homemade apple pie with a dollop of whipped cream, and she wondered if he had intentionally brushed his fingers against hers.

She had just pushed her fork through the flaky crust when the doorbell rang. Niles set down his own untouched plate and walked to the door. CC looked up in interest and her heart dropped to a thud at her feet when she saw the person on the other side of the threshold.

The considerable sound around her dissolved into a whir of noise in her ears as she experienced a sort of tunnel vision focused on the front door of the mansion. She saw Niles turn back to face her, saw his lips form the words "Miss Babcock?" with his face forming the question mark. She set down the plate of pie and it would strike her, moments later, how she did not remember and would likely never remember where she had set the pie down. On the floor? Did she reach for the coffee table? Did someone reach out and take it from her?

"CC, hello," the man said when CC reached the front door. CC saw how Niles still stood close to the door and didn't step back and aside like a good butler should.

"Hello," CC returned, or thought she did. It was quite possible that her mouth had turned to gravel and her voice had turned to vapor.

Fran, who had noticed this time that Niles and CC had disappeared from the group, craned her neck around and spoke, her voice finally piercing the bubble of disbelief that had protected CC from all that had just happened, was happening, and, CC knew without a doubt, would happen. "Who's your friend over there?"

"Oh, pardon me for not introducing myself," the man said again, his confident yet friendly voice revealing years of money, comfort, and education of the sort that did not solely occur in school. He extended his hand and walked over to Maxwell, who had stood up, this mysterious man recognizing another man whose aura exuded years of money, comfort, and education.

"I'm Andrew Wilcox," he said with a smile, shaking Maxwell's hand, "CC's husband."