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"Why do you have green flamingos on your bra?"

Danny never finds out. Before he knows it, he's lifting Mindy onto her desk, paperwork floating to the floor, stationary clattering around them, computer screen flickering in his peripheral vision as he mouths down her neck, fingers scrabbling roughly with the rest of the buttons on her blouse.

She doesn't say anything. Doesn't answer any of his questions but she has this hungry look in her eyes and it drives him on. He helps her with his belt, pushes her skirt out of the way and gives her what she's begging him, over and over, for. When he captures her lips, it's like the whole world starts to shake.


She's straddling him, got him pinned to the seat, the turbulence making him reach for her hand out of instinct. Entwining their fingers, she draws them to her chest and Danny's momentarily distracted by the blue flamingos before he drags a lust-filled gaze up to her face.

"Exsqueeze me, some of us are trying to nap." Her mouth moves but it's not her voice and Danny whips his head to the side, seeing his mother across the plane's aisle, openly watching them both.

"What the hell, Ma! Shut your eyes! Mindy's naked here!"

Mindy's not naked. Not anymore.

"Sister Lahiri...?" Danny reads in confusion, squinting at the badge, her name carved out in white writing. Deft fingers catch his attention and his eyes drop to his bare chest where a crisp black tie is slowly being undone. He can feel it burning around his neck. "Are you a--"

"Mormon?" She whispers, like it's a bad word, and suddenly her tongue is in his ear and she's rolling her hips and panting.

Danny can hardly keep up, hardly hold on, and each breath races to match hers. "Potatoes."

His eyes spring open.

White washed ceiling. Faint smell of disinfectant and cold coffee. The repetitive sound of a squeaking wheel.

Doctors' lounge.

"I brought you food," Mindy says from the doorway by way of greeting, holding up a bag from his favorite sandwich shop. "I didn't want you to miss out. It's not actually a meatball sub though. It's left-over turkey but I put it in this bag because I knew you'd love it."

Danny pushes himself up slowly, blinking away sleep and offering her a tentative smile when she perches next to him.

"You will find no pumpkin pie in here," she warns him, placing the bag on the coffee table, "because I ate it on the way over."

He twists around on the couch, dropping his feet to the floor, legs falling open and pressing comfortably against her thigh. "That's really nice of you, Min. Thanks."

"You're welcome. Payment please."

It feels completely natural to lean over for a kiss, firm and assured and over far too quickly. So when she catches hold of his jaw and turns his head back to hers, kissing him again, deeper, inviting, he finds it easy to succumb. They go from nought to sixty in seconds, Danny pressing her back against the couch, his tongue parting her lips to chase the sweet-savory taste of pie. He feels warm hands slip beneath his scrubs, fingernails digging into the base of his spine to force him closer.

"Wait, wait, wait," he breaks away, getting his words out through labored breaths. "I had this--dream, I dunno. Is this real?"

"It's real," she echoes, leaving kisses all over his face and tugging at his top, clear with her intentions. When Danny doesn't put up a fight, she tugs it up and over his head, hands reclaiming his back, fingertips dancing over taut skin.

Danny just watches her beneath him, arms braced against the couch either side of her head, desperate to believe her. "What are you wearing?" he asks, like the entire universe rests on her reply.

"Pink flamingos," she answers before his heart has even taken another beat. Her face lights up in the most beautiful smile he's ever seen and it suddenly makes perfect sense now.
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Dr Danny Castellano

July 2015


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