Author's Note: This story tumbled out of me after I re-watched The Mindy Project for the second time. I love this pairing, and I found out that Betsy is no longer going to be a regular on the show after I wrote this, and… I don't want to talk about it. I, like many of you, will have to live vicariously through fanfiction!

Anyway, this story is a one shot as of right now, but there's a possibility to continue it, I feel like the premise is a bit silly, but it was fun to write, so I'm willing to go with it. It could also take a more dramatic turn if that's what y'all are interested in. So please review or PM me and let me know if you want me to continue, heck let me know if I shouldn't continue! Thanks in advance, and I really hope you enjoy the story!

Rating: T for language

"Betsy, I can grab you a snack from the vending machine, if you're that hungry."

Betsy started at Shauna's voice, she had zoned out, and when she glanced down she saw that she was holding a pen with a mangled cap in her hand. She flung it into the trash, and quickly wiped her hands on her plaid skirt.

"I'm fine," Betsy said in her best stern voice, although she supposed nearly knocking over her mug of tea probably ruined the effect.

"Jeez, Betsy," Shauna, steadied the cup, and pushed it out of Betsy's reach just for good measure. "You're making me nervous."

Betsy sighed, and shot Shauna a look. Shauna was perched on her chair, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. She was wearing a short, tight silver skirt, and a top that Betsy thought suited a night club more than work, but Shauna did have on a cream cardigan – 'just to keep things classy'.

Betsy shrugged, and folded her hands in her lap. "I'm really in a pickle, Shauna."

Shauna stared at Betsy for a beat, and then nodded. "I totally understand what you mean," she replied, "that bow tie is a bold choice Betsy, but I'm just –"

Betsy's hand flew to her neck, and she fingered the yellow bowtie she had decided to wear at the last minute, before running four blocks to catch her bus.

"No Shauna, that's not what I mean." Betsy continued to fiddle with her bowtie, wondering if Shauna didn't have a point. Her cardigan was pretty busy as is, and perhaps the bowtie was a bit over the top. Betsy mentally shook her head, and was about to reply when she heard the elevator door close and a familiar voice declare, "good morning!"

Betsy let out a small sound, and quickly pulled herself in front of her computer, where she began to type frantically.

Shauna watched everything intently, glancing at Betsy – who was frantically typing, even though she didn't have a document open, and then she glanced at Dr. Reed who had just sauntered up to the reception desk.

A lot of people assumed that Shauna was all legs, and no brains, but they didn't give her enough credit. She felt her lips turn up in a smirk, and when she caught Dr. Reed's eye, she grinned.

"Oh, Dr. Reed, just the man we need."

Betsy made another sound that Shauna could only describe as a squeak and began to type more frantically.

"Really?" Jeremy's eyes lit up, and he leaned an elbow against the counter, he noticed that Betsy was focused intently on the wallpaper of her computer – which appeared to be a collage of cats trying to sit in incredibly small boxes – if he noticed that she was typing a non-existent document, he didn't acknowledge it.

"Yes," Shauna gestured at Betsy, "Betsy here was just telling me that she was in a pickle-"

"Shauna!" Betsy exclaimed, turning to face the other receptionist. "I told you that in confidence!"

Shauna made a face, "um, no, actually, you didn't-"

Betsy rolled her eyes, "the confidence was implied, Shauna!" She shoved her chair away from the desk and stood up, letting out a disgruntled sigh before storming off in the direction of the staff room.

Jeremy stared after Betsy and glanced at Shauna who only shrugged with a look that said, don't look at me.

Jeremy could count on one hand the times that he had seen Betsy lose her temper – well, he could count it on one finger, so he wasted no time following the young receptionist to the break room.

He poked his head inside the door, and saw Betsy, furiously dumping sugar into a mug of steaming tea. She was muttering to herself, and shaking her head. Jeremy took a moment to take in the young secretary before speaking.

She was wearing a pair of thigh high socks, complete with cat ears and whiskers that would have looked ridiculous if the person wearing them was anyone but Betsy. Her polka dot button down blouse was tucked into a grey plaid skirt, she wore a Kelly green cardigan with brightly coloured birds – her favourite if he remembered – and her outfit was completed with a garishly yellow bow tie, that should have looked absurd, if it wasn't so adorable.

"Betsy-" Jeremy began, and Betsy started, dumping a heaping pile of sugar into her tea.

"Dammit!" Betsy cursed and Jeremy started, shocked by the vehemence behind the word.

Betsy threw down the spoon, and glanced at Jeremy. "I bet you didn't think I could swear," she began, Jeremy shrugged helplessly and she continued, "Well I will have you know that I swear all of the time." She nodded, as if trying to convince herself, "yes. Dammit," she said again, "damn, dammit, shit and fu-"

"Betsy!" Jeremy reached her in two strides, interrupting her. "What on earth has gotten into you?" Jeremy didn't mention that he already knew Betsy could swear, from that one time that they had played checkers in the staff room, and she thought he was distracted.

Betsy stiffened under his touch, but only for a moment. "Nothing," she said quickly, she brought her mug up to take a drink, and grimaced before setting it down.

"Betsy," Jeremy repeated. "Are we friends?"

Betsy reached up and began fiddling with her bowtie, "I guess so, Dr. Reed."

"Well, friends talk to each other. They share what's happening in their lives."

"Oh gosh," Betsy murmured, and Jeremy gently rubbed her arm, encouraging her to go on. She froze, and Jeremy watched in fascination, as Betsy's face flushed red.

"I couldn't possibly tell you Dr. Reed," she finally replied, stepped away to break contact. "It is too mortifying."

Jeremy narrowed his eyes, "did that bloke that lives in your building steal your delicates from the washing machine again? Because if he did, you had better believe that I am going to have a word with him!"

"No!" Betsy exclaimed, taking hold of Jeremy's shoulders, "no, it's nothing like that." She squeezed tightly and didn't let go until Jeremy unclenched his hands.

"Well, what is it then?"

Betsy took a deep, steadying breath. "My cousin Brian is getting married."

Jeremy cocked his head, that wasn't at all what he was expecting, and the way this conversation was now going, he was wondering if he wanted to know.

Betsy was staring at Jeremy, and he realized that he must have missed something.

"I'm sorry Betsy, what did you say?"

"My cousin Brian is getting married."

Jeremy nodded, "I got that bit."

"I'm invited to the wedding."

Jeremy prided himself on being an intelligent man, someone who could problem solve the most complex problems, but with all of his skills he found that he had no idea what Betsy was talking about.

His confusion must have shown on his face because Betsy sighed, and looked at him as if he were a simpleton.

"I'm invited to the wedding, and so are you." Betsy waited for the light bulb to go on but Jeremy still looked baffled. He looks adorable with his brow furrowed like that, she thought distractedly. No! Betsy shook her head, now was not the time, especially considering what Betsy was going to say next.

"Grandma told everyone that you're my boyfriend."

Jeremy blinked, "that's all?" He replied, "I'm not sure I would classify that as mortifying -"

Betsy gave a strangled sigh, let go of Jeremy and slumped into a chair. Jeremy heard a soft thump, as Betsy's forehead hit the table.

"Betsy," Jeremy knelt beside her, "please stop."

Betsy turned to look at Jeremy. "I didn't mean mortifying for me; I meant that it would be mortifying for you."

"…" He clamped his mouth shut, and Betsy turned her face away from him. He heard another couple of thumps before he managed to find his voice. "Betsy, I'm just… a bit speechless is all."

Betsy, turned to Jeremy again, and he could see a small red mark on her forehead. "Speechless?" She asked. Was that a good thing? Betsy couldn't remember, in all of the conversations she had had with Morgan and Shauna, she couldn't remember it coming up.

She noticed that Jeremy had settled onto his knees, and he had a look on his face that Betsy couldn't read. "Are you alright Dr. Reed?" She took a deep breath, "Jeremy?"

He glanced at her when she said his name, and Betsy could see that his brow was furrowed again, but this time it wasn't from confusion. He was upset.

"Gosh," Betsy sat up in her chair, "I'm sorry I brought it up." She rubbed a hand against her forehead. "I should have never said anything to Shauna…" She smoothed out the imaginary wrinkles in her skirt. "It's alright; I will just call my mom and tell her that Grandma obviously forgot to take her meds again-"

Jeremy's laugh caused her to glance at him, it wasn't his normal laugh – it was more of a huff of air. Finally he met her eyes.

"Why did you think I would be mortified, Betsy?"

Betsy swallowed, "you know." She said, picking a piece of lint off the sleeve of her cardigan.

"No, Betsy, I don't know."

Betsy swallowed again, she wasn't used to Jeremy looking at her like that, so direct and serious. The last time he had looked like that was when he was talking about his childhood, but even then, there had been an air of lightness to the conversation.

Betsy averted her eyes for a moment before glancing back; Jeremy was still staring at her. He's going to make me say it. Betsy folded her hands, and focused her gaze on her hands. "Well, Jeremy, we both know that I'm not your type." She licked her lips, there. That wasn't so hard was it? She let out a shaky breath, and continued to avoid Jeremy's eyes.

"My type?"

Betsy didn't want to talk about it anymore. It was stupid, so stupid and she was stupid for bringing it up in the first place. She should have just called her mom, and told her that Jeremy had a conference about vaginas that weekend, and so he couldn't make it to the wedding.

Her mouth felt dry, and suddenly Betsy wished that she hadn't abandoned her cup of tea. She glanced quickly at Jeremy, and felt her heart constrict in her chest. There was a reason why she hadn't called her mom the second Gordon had texted her.

A part of her had hoped, that maybe, Dr. Reed – Jeremy, would want to go, and if Betsy was really honest (her mom, and her pastor were always talking about how important honesty was), that he would want to be her boyfriend.

Betsy knew how foolish that hope was. Sure she and Jeremy had been spending a lot more time together since Thanksgiving dinner, and they had plans to visit her parents for their infamous Super Bowl Party, but Betsy knew that didn't mean anything.

After all, she saw how Jeremy looked at Shauna when she was wearing an especially short skirt, and she had to bend over to change the toner in the printer. And he still used that smarmy voice when talking to the single mothers, so really, what else was a girl supposed to think?

Sure he had bought her a birthday present (a headband, and a cat pendent that she was wearing at this very moment) and he had invited her over to watch Larkrise to Candleford, but that was only because Betsy's neighbour was getting his place sprayed for bed bugs, and Jeremy didn't want her to inhale any of the fumes.

None of that meant anything.

Not a thing.

Betsy glanced at Jeremy again, and noticed that he was watching her.

"My type." He said again, and Betsy nodded. "What pray tell, is my type?"

Betsy made a face, and Jeremy felt his heart drop. He had a pretty good idea about what everyone thought his type was. Hell, he had made no effort to prove them wrong, in fact he had gone so far as to flaunt it, so why was this any different?

Why did his stomach feel like a rock?

Why had the words, I meant that it would be mortifying for you, and the subsequent look on Betsy's face make him feel like a scamp? His reputation wasn't a secret. He made no promises to the young woman before him, so why did he feel like he had cocked everything up?

"Well…" Betsy's voice startled him, and he knew that by the way that she was wringing her hands; she was trying to think of a polite way to answer his question.

He decided to beat her to it.

"Slags, Betsy, is that it?"

"What?" Betsy only looked confused for a moment, before realization crossed her face, "no, no." She was pursing her lips, and Jeremy found it entirely too endearing. She winced, "well… maybe…" she finally finished, she braced herself, preparing herself for – well she wasn't sure exactly what, but she prepared herself nonetheless.

What happened next completely threw her off.

Jeremy laughed.

Betsy looked at him sharply, he laughed – a real genuine laugh, and Betsy felt relieved but also completely bewildered.

"Thank you Betsy," Jeremy laughed, he pushed himself to his feet before dropping into a chair across from her.

"You're welcome Dr. Reed," she replied, "I think."

Jeremy laughed again, and Betsy found that she was smiling back. "It's important that we're honest with each other, Betsy."

Betsy couldn't help but laugh and Jeremy continued.

"Friends should always be honest with each other."

Right, Betsy thought, suddenly finding her hands fascinating again.

"I agree completely," Betsy's voice was shaking slightly, and this time Jeremy wanted to drop his own head against the table.

How had this morning gone so terribly awry? He didn't want to give the girl the wrong impression, but he knew - if he was really honest with himself, that it was perhaps, a little too late for that.

It was innocent enough, and besides, Betsy was lovely, a little strange, and entirely too trusting but lovely nevertheless. She had invited him to celebrate Thanksgiving with her, and he had known without any doubt, that there would be a Thanksgiving feast – it wasn't just an excuse to have drunken sex.

It was refreshing, and Betsy, in her ridiculous cardigan had looked so hopeful that he couldn't have refused even if he had wanted to.

After all, he would be getting a free meal out of it; American Thanksgiving was one of Jeremy's favourite holidays, so it wouldn't be a total loss.

Jeremy had found himself pleasantly surprised by the entire experience. Betsy was a pleasant road trip companion, and although her family was admittedly a bit cliché, they were also welcoming and genuine.

Their love for Betsy was obvious, if not a bit smothering, and Jeremy found that he did not want to leave. Gene had shaken his hand, and clapped a hand on his shoulder, so hard that Jeremy nearly toppled over and Doris had pulled him into a hug, patted his shoulder, and nudged her husband.

That was when Betsy's father had extended the invitation to the Putch Super Bowl Party. Betsy had immediately piped up, claiming that Jeremy was far too busy and likely had his own party to attend, but Jeremy had silenced Betsy with a hand on her shoulder and accepted the invitation graciously.

He wasn't entirely certain when his relationship with Betsy changed, but he imagined it was likely around the night of the Christmas party. It had been solidified during the third episode of the second season of Larkrise.

"Look Dr. Reed, it's okay," Betsy had her hands braced against the table, but Jeremy interrupted her.

"I would love to attend your cousin Brian's wedding with you."

"Yes, of course I can think of an excuse…" Betsy's voice drifted off, and suddenly her eyes widened, "what? Really?"

"Of course Betsy, don't sound so surprised."

"But I am surprised," Betsy replied, she quickly shook her head, and grinned. "Thank you so much, Dr. Reed –"

"Jeremy." Betsy paused, and Jeremy continued. "If I'm to be your boyfriend, you can't very well call me Dr. Reed."

Betsy's brow was furrowed now, and her head cocked to the side. Jeremy noticed that her cheeks were flushed pink, and he found that he was entirely too pleased. He slung an arm around her shoulder, and Betsy gave a squeak of surprise.

"Your Gran isn't getting any younger Betsy Bear; we wouldn't want to disappoint the dear old lady." He checked his watch, "oh, I've got to go; Mrs. Duncan is coming in at 9:30." He gave her a cheeky smile, and flashed his phone at her, "text me the details, and we can discuss this more over lunch."

The sound of an office door slamming brought Betsy out of her stupor, and she grit her teeth, and stomped her foot.

"I told you, don't call me Betsy Bear!"

End note: Do let me know what you think, and if I should continue!