DISCLAIMER: Standard. Don't own them. Don't abuse them…well, not too much. Certainly don't make money off them. The story is mine, however, so don't distribute or archive it without my permisions. Thanks!

AUTHOR: Merel

RATING: PG-13

AUTHOR'S NOTES: WARNING! The following story is completely implausible. Totally irrational. It would never, ever have happened. She'd never, ever have done it. But what if it had and what if she did? A complete and total AU that takes place mid to late 3rd Season and somewhere in the dark, deluded mind of the author.

You might also notice that I've taken some architectural license with Lee's apartment. Sorry, had to be done to make this story work J. Much thanks, as always, to Pam, for her assistance, pushing, prodding, nudging, and all round general support.

SUMMARY: Amanda tires of Scarecrow's game of denial and takes matters into her own hands.

TOO SEXY FOR HIS SHIRT

Amanda was just rounding the corner on her way out of the Bullpen when two voices and her name being spoken caught her attention.

"Okay, I was just wondering, that's all. It just seems that you and Amanda have been spending an awful lot of time together." Francine's voice carried around the hallway corner to where Amanda had flattened herself against the wall. Eavesdropping was rude. She knew this. She was just about to step out and make her presence known when she heard a very familiar masculine voice chime in.

"Oh, please, Francine," Lee huffed. "Amanda. . . and me?" He laughed. "She's not exactly my type, you know."

Francine refused to back down from her badgering. "Come on Lee, I've seen the way she looks at you. . . and I've even seen you-- "

"Francine, can it. No way. She's a wholesome mom with a mortgage."

Francine laughed, "Yeah, I don't know what I was thinking. She's far too tame for you. Even if you were thinking about slumming. The Scarecrow would definitely be after wilder game than a suburban den mother."

Amanda strained to hear Lee's response to Francine's barb, but the two had started moving towards the elevator and his words were lost to her. Anger bubbled up inside of Amanda. He had some nerve. . . not his type, heh? Too tame for his taste, huh? Just a wholesome mom with a mortgage, hmmm? Well, she'd had it. Just when she thought they were making some headway. . . one step forward and two steps back. It was the hallmark of her relationship with Lee Stetson. Well, she was sick and tired of it. She knew that his response to Francine was more than likely aimed specifically to throw her off the scent of his budding feelings for his partner. She knew, when he was cornered, Lee's self-defenses would surface to protect him. She'd been on the wrong end of those defenses more than once herself. While he'd been opening up to her more and more lately, she also knew that he was still far from reconciling his feelings for her and would do and say whatever was necessary to make sure he could continue to live in the land of Denial for as long as it pleased him. Well, she wasn't going to be playing that game any more. She had played the patient friend, not pushing for too much, too soon, for long enough. Not anymore, buster.

She'd show him exactly what a wholesome, tame, mom with a mortgage was capable of. Before she was through with the great Scarecrow, he wasn't going to know which end was up.

*****

The ballet was perfection. Lee's invitation had been a surprise and a prime opportunity for Amanda to put her plan into motion. She'd never seen this particular ballet before and regretted that her own little production would most likely interfere with her enjoyment of the event. Oh, well. . . it was all for a good cause.

Settling back into the velvet seat, she cast a surreptitious glance towards Scarecrow. He seemed content and focused on the dancers. If her plan worked that would soon end. A devilish grin teased the corners of her mouth.

The theater was especially dark, the ominous stage-setting for this dance piece unknowingly lending itself to this evening's sub-plot. The music reached a crescendo and Amanda took advantage of a particularly loud clash of the cymbals to make her first move. She bolted forward in her chair, grabbing Scarecrow's right thigh with her left hand, pressing her other hand to her chest in feigned fright over the sudden sound. Slowly she relaxed, but she stayed seated forward in her chair. She pretended utter fascination in the intricate dance steps of the prima ballerina, while allowing her hand to linger lightly on Lee's leg.

Lee glanced nervously from his companion to his leg. The manicured fingers that had just about sent him out of his seat a moment ago were now relaxed and settled familiarly on his lower thigh. Once again he looked over at Amanda, but she seemed totally engrossed in the production. She probably didn't even realize she was touching him, he concluded. He reached down and took her hand, patting it gently and placing it back in her lap.

Amanda's eyes continued to stay focused on the dancers, but they narrowed and her right brow arched. This was going to be tougher than she'd imagined.

She leaned back in her seat, never taking her eyes off the dancers. Slipping off her right shoe and crossing her right leg over her left, she slowly inched her foot over to where Lee's outstretched legs were. Straightening her shoulders and strengthening her resolve, she caught the hem of his tuxedo trousers with her toe and trailed it tenderly along his calf. The minute her stocking-clad toes touched his sock-covered ankle she could feel his body tense next to her. Watching in the dark, from the corner of her eye, she saw his grip on the armrest between them tighten.

Moving her eyes back to the stage she focused on appearing mesmerized by the performance taking place on stage. Deliberately she wiggled her toes up towards his knee, bunching the fabric of his trousers in the process. She ran her toes slowly up and down the length of his calf several times, then slowly returned her foot to her shoe, making quite a show of crossing her legs in the other direction.

At that moment you could have knocked Scarecrow over with a feather. He knew what had just happened, he just couldn't believe it. Amanda had been playing footsie with him! He could feel where she had pushed his sock down around his ankle and his flesh still tingled where her tiny toes had crept up his calf. There had to be some logical explanation for this. There had to be. Perhaps he'd been imaging it? Perhaps she'd slipped off her shoe and had lost it under her seat and had just been trying to find it? Perhaps pigs could fly?

He crossed his right leg away from her and tried to focus on the ballet. He failed miserably.

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