Disclaimer: This one-shot is rated T for language and adult content. Also, I do not own any of the characters associated with The Mindy Project.

"Clandestine make-outs…"

Mindy didn't mind that Danny was awful at lying. In fact, it was incredibly endearing that a man could be so accustomed to frankness and brute honesty that telling anything but the truth appeared to be strenuous.

As she felt herself pressed against his desk, she found that she didn't mind that the excuse he used, as incredulous as it was, still managed to make her look temporarily incompetent. She'd make him pay for it when they got home, surely.

When he buried his hands in her long locks and planted kisses at the corners of her mouth, she found the light sheen of sweat that appeared whenever he struggled to come up with a believable yarn kind of adorable.

The moment Danny began to tug gently on her bottom lip with his teeth, she fell in love with the way he fumbled with his words and seemed to lose control over the volume of his voice, suddenly booming with ineptitude.

It didn't matter that he was so amateurish when it came to lying because whenever he did manage to get her into his office - or a supply closet or a bathroom with a faulty doorknob - and his lips did finally claim hers so fully and decidedly, she realized that he was certainly skilled in other, more important areas.

"…sexy glances…"

Daniel Castellano must die.

It is unfortunate and I'm sure he'll be missed by many, but given the circumstances I have arrived to the conclusion that it is either him or me…and if he keeps giving me those insanely steamy furtive glances when he thinks nobody is looking, then it'll most definitely be me, and that can't happen. I have way too much to accomplish to die this soon; I haven't met Oprah yet and there are still a lot of unwatched Vampire Diaries episodes on my DVR.

I just don't understand why he can't just give a quick, sweet look like normal men. And before you say "Oh, because Danny Castellano is no normal man" – and you're right, he isn't – I have personally seen him around other women he's dated and he has never dared look at them the way he's looked at me (not in public, at least), so I know he's capable of toning it down if he wanted to. Instead, he insists on giving me these mind-erasing, mouth-watering, panty-disintegrating glances WHILE I'M FUCKING TALKING TO SOMEONE and I'm expected to just "be cool," right? Ugh. Damn that handsome, handsome bastard.

For instance, today I was held conversationally hostage by Morgan as he prattled on about…you know, I'm not even sure what it was about. All I remember is that it started with the mention of Hedwig the owl and ended with Morgan trying to recount a story just as Danny emerged from the phlebotomy room. He was looking at a file when he stopped some feet behind Morgan, looked up and caught my eye. Maintaining his stoic expression, I saw his eyes slooowly wander down the entire length of my body, then return slooowly upward (I didn't miss the two pit stops at my hips and chest, nor that little flick of his tongue across his bottom lip, that slick sonofabitch) until our eyes locked again. Then, his eyelids got heavier by just a fraction and there was a slight upturn of the right corner of his lip, bearing the tiniest of confident smirks. The whole look screamed "as soon as I get you alone, I'm going to devour you whole."

And it takes every solitary shred of my self-restraint to keep from yelling, "WE'RE SUPPOSED TO BE TAKING IT SLOW, GODDAMN YOU!" throughout the practice.

No man has ever looked at me the way he looks at me, and I honestly don't know how to handle any of it. A slight narrow of his lid can reduce my body to molten ash. His side-eye stare feels like a blow to my kneecaps and a mere flap of his eyelashes feels like thousands of butterflies kisses across my skin.

So, you see now that Danny Castellano must…just - I mean…he's gotta go. Period. And no, it can't be fixed by one of us switching practices because I'm convinced that his sexual magnetism knows no distance.

But I must say…if the day comes that one of his looks does successfully take me out of this life, then that will surely be one hell of a way to go.

"…footsie-ing each other's brains out…"

Christina used to do this thing whenever we were at dinner that would drive me insane, but not in a good way.

She would slip off whatever impossibly high heel she was wearing and slide her toes up and down my calf. Then her foot would meander up my thigh until it had reached my crotch. For a finale, she would press the ball of her foot right there until she felt like she had me right where she wanted me. I would look up at her face and find an expression with almost an animalistic quality, or the look of someone who was experiencing a deep, deep satisfaction with herself.

As a red-blooded, breathing male, I'll admit that this worked about sixty percent of the time. Later in the relationship, though, is when I realized that it was just a really manipulative ploy for power. Knowing that she could bring me to such a point of arousal under the noses of friends, family, or other restaurant patrons got her off in a way that I never really could. After a while, there was just nothing appealing about it.

Now, whenever we do get a moment alone in one of our offices to work or eat lunch, Mindy will take her shoes off as a means of getting comfortable and eventually, in conversation or while skimming a file, her foot will find mine. She'll gently rub the top of my foot or my ankle – there was one day when her toe grazed my calf – but it would never venture to a place that was even remotely suggestive. While this is happening I'll look up at her face (she is so beautiful. Did I mention that yet?) and more often then not, she's still engrossed in her paperwork or her sandwich. It's like she doesn't consciously know what she's doing to me, but something in her subconscious feels a need to remind me that she's there – with me – and that this is all real. There's something so beautiful about that.

One day I will tell her, while we're nothing but a tangle of bed sheets and limbs, that she literally has more power and beauty in her little toe than any woman I've ever known.

"…and not to brag, but I haven't been home in three days."

Smirking, Danny made his way across his bedroom in his flannel pajamas and dark t-shirt until he reached his side of the bed – a concept that he loved getting reacquainted with these days – pulled back the comforter and settled in next to Mindy, who seemed very invested in whatever she was reading from her phone. She redirected her attention once she felt the bed dip.

"Idris Elba's IMDB page is blowing my mind right now," she said in awe just before she caught a glimpse of Danny's knowing grin. "What's that look for?"

"My toothbrush is wet."

Mindy's pupils immediately began to dart to and her eyebrows furrowed in apparent confusion. "Um, did you wet it? I don't understand the joke."

"Mindy."

The "you can't fool me" intonation of his voice led to a break in her feigned ignorance. She squeezed her eyes shut and sighed. "Okay, I thought I saw a snake in the shower –"

"A snake, Min? How does that even make sense?!"

"Whatever! I thought I saw a snake, I was holding my toothbrush, I yelped…and my toothbrush landed in the toilet."

Danny snorted, which earned him a light punch in the shoulder. "It's not funny! I panicked and then I had to mourn the loss of my favorite toothbrush while trying to find a way to rid myself of hummus breath without having to use your toothbrush, which I know you hate –"

"Min, sweetie, it's fine."

Mindy gave him a hopeful look. "Really?"

Danny leaned over and took the phone out of her hand, setting it aside. He rolled over until he was comfortably on top of her and his head was just at her chin. Wrapping his arms underneath her, he asked, "Can I confess something?"

Mindy nodded as a smile tugged on her lips.

"The day that I decided to ask you to spend the night, I went out and bought you a toothbrush, the one with the tough bristles that you like so much."

Mindy's eyes grew just a little. "You bought me a toothbrush for your place?"

"Yeah…" Danny trailed off as a blush crept up his neck. "I just figured that we'd need one here, in case…"

"…in case…"

"…in case you left yours at your place, or you needed to rest here after a late surgery…or if you just felt like coming over."

She tilted her head and lightly scratched the nape of his neck. "A 'just in case' toothbrush in your bathroom," she considered with a bite of her lip. "That's not too domestic for you? I mean, I've been here for three days already."

Danny took a moment to take in her face. She emanated such a signature glow and lately he felt like that glow absolutely lit up his home, making it so much warmer and more welcoming than usual. Right now, he couldn't get over how much he liked the way her head sunk into his pillow and the look of her hair fanned out across its surface. I was an image so simple and random, yet it was burned into his brain, and something that he found he could not wait to see every night.

Finally snapping himself out of his reverie, he leaned up and placed a kiss on her nose. "I really can't say that I mind it."

A/N: Hi!

I hope you all enjoyed this little story and I must thank the anonymous person who left the prompt in my Tumblr ask box! It was fun to write and I hope I did your prompt some justice. :-)

This is a second submission for Operation Tonic Water. I hope anyone thinking of writing something does so! The more stories, the better.

Please leave a review, if you have a moment! Hearing from you all makes me smile so, so much. I honestly do appreciate it.

I hope you all enjoyed the newest episode! Only two more episodes and then the finale!

Have a great night and Hollaatchyagirl,

Phunky