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"You know, Miss Babcock, I don't know why you're so obsessed with truth or dare. It's a silly game for kids!"
C.C. looked up at Nanny Fine and put down the empty wine bottle.
In some ways, she was right. Truth or dare, two truths and a lie, all those games you played in Middle School, were for children, normal children! Everyone had played them -everyone, except for C.C. Babcock.
Under normal circumstances, C.C. would rather have died than tell someone about this - Nanny Fine, out of all people - but these were hardly normal circumstances. Not only was she more than tipsy, C.C. Babcock was bored out of her mind. And it's not like she had anything better to do.
"I never played it as a child."
Fran raised her eyebrow at this and sat down next to C.C.: "Really? Never?
"Whom would I have played with?"
"Your friends."
C.C. snorted. Of course, making fun of her was usually Niles' job. Since he wasn't here, though, drunk C.C. would have to take over.
"You can't be serious," Fran replied with genuine disbelief.
"What, you think I was like you in High School? Pretty, slim waist, those…well, those, and slutty? Oh no, not me. But I suppose that's fine. I'm rich now."
The smug look on C.C.'s face that Fran expected never appeared. One did on Fran's, though: "Pretty?"
"And slutty. Do not forget slutty."
"Hm. Well, those weren't the things that made me popular. Not with the girls at least," the brunette grinned, "I was nice. Maybe you should've tried that."
"I was plenty nice!"
Neither Fran nor C.C. herself believed that. But Fran did sense C.C. only seemed to be getting sadder, so she gave in: "Truth or dare, C.C.?"
Nanny Fine could've sworn to see a little smile on the blonde's face. "Truth," C.C. said.
"If you could spend a whole night with anyone in the world, who would it be?"
Fran stuck to questions like this. Questions she already knew the answer to.
C.C. hesitated for a second. On the inside, she laughed at how pathetic she was.
"Oh, Miss Babcock, don't play games. We all know it's Maxwell. My turn!"
Yes. Maxwell. Maxwell Sheffield, the man C.C. loved. She found herself reaching for another wine bottle, but Nanny Fine stopped her: "Don't you think you've had enough? I don't wanna have to carry you out when somebody finds us."
Reluctantly, C.C. let go of the bottle. Once again, Fran looked at her with an arched eyebrow: "Miss Babcock, are you alright?
"Am I alright?"
"I don't know, that's why I asked."
C.C. let out a bitter chuckle: "It isn't Maxwell."
This seemed to intrigue Fran. She scooted closer to the blonde, and softly nudged her in the ribs with her elbow: "Do tell, Miss Babcock."
C.C. sighed and truly regretted obeying Nanny Fine about the wine before. But there was no point in trying to stop it now, she was much too intoxicated for that.
"Do you remember Charlie's Angels?"
"Well, of course! Oh, I get it! John Forsythe?"
C.C. shook her head: "Cheryl Ladd."
And there it was. Two words. Two simple little words that could easily destroy everything. But who cared now? Not C.C. Babcock.
Honestly, Nanny Fine's reaction was unpredictable, and those few moments it took her to process what was just said felt like an eternity. And then, Nanny Fine began laughing.
That loud, obnoxious laugh that C.C. had always hated more than anything - emphasis on had, of course.
"Miss Babcock," she exclaimed, "I had no idea!"
"I know."
"So, what are you? Bisexual? You know, my cousin Elijah is also bisexual, he's a bit of a mess, but-"
"No," C.C. hissed through gritted teeth.
This one took Fran a little longer. Finally, her eyes widened: "Oh."
"Yeah. Oh," C.C. rolled her eyes.
"But…aren't you in love with Maxwell? I mean-"
"For god's sakes, Nanny Fine. Don't you get anything?"
Fran stayed quiet and waited for C.C. to continue. She barely ever shut up, but when she did, it was important.
"I…I don't love Maxwell," a pause followed after this, "But I have to. Because he's…he is my last chance at a relationship. With a man."
"Miss Babcock, I'm not a lesbian, and I don't exactly know how they work, but last time I checked, the thing about lesbians was that they don't want to be with men."
C.C. cringed at the usage of that word. All her life, people had told her it was disgusting to feel the way she did. Nanny Fine could truly be an oblivious moron.
"Of course, I don't want to be. But I have to be."
"Meshuga," Nanny Fine hit C.C.'s shoulder, "And especially not with Maxwell."
An even longer silence followed after this, during which C.C. avoided eye contact at all costs.
There was one last thing she just needed to say, though: "You're the only one who knows."
As if C.C. had just told her she was Santa Claus, Nanny Fine's eyes widened in shock and she gasped: "Now you're lying!"
"Uh-uh."
"What about your parents?!"
C.C. laughed out loud. She could imagine exactly how that conversation would go. And it wasn't pretty.
"Know what my mom would say to me? "Chastity Claire! Do you want your mother to have a heart attack?! And god, my father…he'd disown me."
"You can't be serious," Fran and her mother have had some rough times, there was no doubt about that, but she could never imagine her doing something like that.
C.C. didn't answer, and it only drew Fran in even more. She'd never seen Miss Babcock like this and honestly hadn't thought she was even capable of having feelings.
"Oh, Miss Babcock, can I give you a hug," she asked and didn't even wait for an answer, but instead wrapped her arms around C.C. from behind and put her chin on her shoulder.
For the first time, C.C. didn't want to yell at Fran for touching her. Instead, in her drunken haze, she whispered something.
"You smell nice."
Fran chuckled softly, and it was so strange that this didn't feel strange at all.
"Tell Niles and I'll behead you myself."
"There she is."