Anesthetic
by izhilzha
Don had meant to be reassuring. Obviously, Liz was not interpreting it that way. She propped herself up on both elbows and stared at him. "I'm your anesthetic? I'm not sure I like that."
Rephrase, Eppes, quick. "Not . . . anesthetic. More like a good wine." A confused smile twitched her full lips; okay, he was on a roll. "Rich, complex, compelling. . . ." He eyed her half-naked body, outlines not hidden at all by the sheer sheet. "Full-bodied."
She snickered, and he took the opportunity to gather her in, chest to chest, nose to nose. "You dull the pain and anxiety, make me relax, and bring joy to my heart."
She smirked. "And a hangover the next day?"
Don sighed. "Hey, it's not a perfect metaphor."
When she kissed him, instead of pushing away, he thanked his lucky stars he'd found a girl who could laugh―at herself, and at him.