A/N: I am so bad at doing what I say I'm going to do. This was supposed to be a one shot, but man, the comments on and reviews both on and ao3 were so wonderful and encouraging I just couldn't stop. :O Feel free to let me know what you all think. Enjoy.

Sure, Danny had entertained the notion that he'd see her again on campus, maybe approach her with a devil may care smile, some cleverly flirtatious comment on his lips to make her smile, laugh even. He'd certainly never imagined this situation, hours stuck in her presence on a weekly basis, a morally gray ethical quandary that he'd picked the wrong side of facing him every time she strolled into the lecture hall.

Sometimes he was overwhelmed by the strangest sensations when he looked at her, the most vivid recollections would spring immediately to mind. The sound of her flying apart beneath his touch was the first thing that always drilled into his ears when he saw her walk into the room. It always sent an inescapable little thrill through him, even at the most inopportune moments.

But that was perhaps the most innocuous reaction she engendered in him. When she wore her hair down, he could recall the feather light sensation of it brushing across his face as she writhed on top of him, a whiff of citrus materializing from nowhere to invade his nostrils as he made notations in Garibaldi's calendar. He'd feel a rush of blood surge through him insisting he do something about it, overheating him as he sat in the drafty hall.

The worst part was when she smiled at some other student, never him, and he felt an echoe of desire ricocheting through him. It reminded him of the unfinished business between them, destined to remain unfinished indefinitely. He'd honestly thought he'd never lock eyes with her again, never be reminded of the way he'd taken matters into his own hands upon returning home, the way he'd let the scalding hot water run over him in the shower while he imagined the taste of her mouth, the way he'd abused himself while wondering what it would be like to be buried in the deep vee of her voluptuous thighs, availing himself of the heat he'd already sampled.

It was a problem, one that he took drastic measures to solve. He soon realized seeking out her face during class was a biggest part of the problem, so he began lugging homework with him to fill the time while Garibaldi droned on. But it wasn't enough. He soon discovered that she was in the weekly chem lab he instructed, so he traded in some long held favors and switched with one of the other TA's, putting a uncomfortable crimp in his already pathetic social life.

Still, it was impossible to eradicate all interaction. She sat in the front row, eagerly lapping up all the information laid at her feet, and he couldn't help but look at her when she was directly in front of him. He practiced a grumpy expression to hide the irresistible interest he felt when she caught his eyes, an expression that he knew seemed cold. It's just the way it needed to be. He couldn't have any impropriety surrounding him, not at this point. He was so close to finishing everything and moving on to the next long awaited step.

So, the pang of loss he felt at this very moment as some overly confident bozo slipped in easily beside her, chatting her up, was just something he'd have to deal with. It wasn't any of his business anyway, and it definitely wasn't jealousy that motivated him to approach the aforementioned bozo immediately after class either.

"You in this class?"

Rather than answer him, the mystery guy glided over to him, his hand outstretched in an obvious invitation. "No, I'm auditing. The name's Brendan."

"Daniel." Ignoring the proffered hand, Danny just glared at him. "Do you have your paperwork? I'll need to see it before you can continue attending the lectures."

Coolly, Brendan pulled a neatly folded paper from his pocket, handing it over without hesitation. Danny snatched it from his grasp, making a few notations in his notebook, snorting as he read Brendan's area of study. "Methods of Homeopathic research?"

Brendan merely nodded, the zen expression never leaving his features as Danny shoved the crumpled paper back in his outstretched hand. "You seem a little tense, for a TA. I lead a group meditation on the quad every Sunday afternoon. You should come."

Before Danny could voice the automatic refusal of Brendan's invitation, a cheerful voice cut into their conversation. "Brendan, Brendan…" She ran up beside them, slightly out of breath. "I forgot to give you my number, so you could help me study." Mindy smiled sweetly at the both of them, a tiny scrap of paper held between her well manicured fingers.

Brendan turned his pleased expression to Mindy, slipping the paper from her fingers before he grasped them with his own. He drew her hand to him, brushing a light kiss against the back of her knuckles. "Thank you, Mindy. It'll be a pleasure I'm sure."

And with that Brendan made his exit as smoothly as he'd entered, leaving Danny frowning after him. He turned to Mindy. "I'm not sure how much help he'll be for you. He's not even in this class."

"Oh, please. Like I need help. I just wanted to give him my number." She winked at Danny and very nearly skipped out of the building.


Dr. Garibaldi's office was just one more thing that reinforced Danny's determination to finish his degree and move on to med school. Academia had relegated the smartest man he'd ever known to working out of a space the size of shoe box. It just wasn't for him, not Danny Castellano.

He'd had the small bedroom growing up, shared with a brother so much younger that it was borderline strange having bunk beds. He'd lived on the shoe string budget, clipping coupons with his mom Saturday mornings. He was good and ready for a life of luxury and ease.

Which is why he didn't mind working multiple jobs and shouldering his TA responsibilities while pulling all nighters in the university library. It was tough, and sometimes he felt the stress pressing in on him, but he was certain there would be a grand payoff in the near future.

Sometimes, when he stayed late to grade papers for Garibaldi, and everyone else in the chemistry department left for the day, he even found the current life he lead to be pleasant. There weren't many places he had peace and quiet, the guys he boarded with barging in at all hours, the occasional high pitched girlish squeal in the living room. It made him painfully aware of the years he'd taken off, the numerically small yet maturationally huge gap between him and his roommates.

Garibaldi was an old school kind of guy, someone with an ancient record player sitting on a dusty shelf between his leather bound books, a select few records resting just within reach. He made a mental note to construct something like this for himself whenever he was lucky enough to have his own place, a masculine space with his favorite things all within arm's length, an unspoken aura of privacy surrounding it.

There was one record that Danny particularly liked, the cover graced with a round faced Bob Dylan, his baby fat still clinging to him, a guitar clutched to him like a shield. The songs on it weren't like anything Danny had listened to growing up. They didn't have the brash confidence of Bruce Springsteen, the musical journey of, well, Journey. There was no unrelenting swell of sound pumping through his veins at it crescendoed in a declaration of rebellion. It meandered, in and out of lengthy stories, the acoustic guitar's occasionally twanging strings strangely complementary to the flaws in Dylan's voice. The self titled album so aptly named. This is it. This is me.

It was the first thing he did before sitting down to mark up the pristine white papers in front of him. Dropping the needle delicately in the first groove had become a ritual of sorts. Danny had always had trouble unwinding, but there was something about the familiar crackle of the vinyl that had just enough nostalgia in it to loosen his tightly coiled muscles.

At the moment, his grading pen lay forgotten beside a stack of Freshman chem tests, his head dropped back against the leather padding of the office chair. The stress of this week needed a little more time than usual to roll off his shoulders. Three times this week he'd found himself on the phone with his petulant little brother, having a one sided conversation about acceptable behavior, his mother in the background going on and on about her wayward child. Richie had been getting into tussles at school lately, coming home with scraped knuckles and the occasional black eye, and when Danny tried to pry out the reasons behind these altercations, Richie only responded with stony silence.

Danny breathed deep even inhalations as the music crackled his ears, thinking maybe he'd stay here a while after finishing his tasks. He couldn't put up with Andrew tonight, the crass undergrad going on and on about his lays, and now, pestering him constantly for updates on Danny's nearly non-existent social life. It rankled.

Quietly the last song faded out, leaving an unsettling white noise as the needle circled in the lock groove. Danny raised his hands to rub the exhaustion from his eyes before rising to restart the record. Danny smiled. When Garibaldi went old school, he really went old school, the player in front of him an antique compared to the one sitting in his childhood bedroom.

He gently lowered the player's arm with his index finger, the needle millimeters away from the lead-in at the edge of the record.

"Excuse me!"

Danny nearly dropped the needle, his shoulders tensing at the sharp greeting echoing from the hall. He'd left the office door open in an effort to stave off the inevitable feeling of claustrophobia that came with sitting in a windowless office.

He felt his shoulders involuntarily roll back, his legs spread into a wider stance as he shut off the record player, turning toward her. Mindy Lahiri. He knew it before he saw her, the distinctive high and tinkling tone of her voice something he'd gotten used to over the past several weeks. She was a top student, chiming in frequently on Garibaldi's lectures. There she was, poking her head in while she knocked belatedly on the door jamb, her hair falling in a silken wave as she leaned across the threshold.

Abruptly he turned away from her, taking his seat once again behind the desk, feigning undue interest in the papers before him. "Garibaldi's not here, come back tomorrow during his office hours. They're listed on the syllabus."

Ignoring his sharp tone she stepped through the doorway anyway, smiling as she curiously looked around her. "I wasn't looking for Dr. Garibaldi." She adjusted her messenger bag, the strap digging into her shoulder somewhat, the weight of the thing obvious as it swung at her side. She stepped toward him, wedging herself into the tiny space in front of Garibaldi's bookshelf. The collection of various knickknacks drew her attention. She peered closely at a plastic molecular model. "That Garibaldi's one wild dude. Can you imagine him at like Woodstock or something, tripping through the fields while Jimi Hendrix played in the background?"

He set down the paper he'd been fingering, total confusion sweeping over his features. "What are you talking about?"

She picked up the model, turning back to him as she dropped her bag in the floor. Her eyes were wide as she used it to gesture at him. "You don't see it? Really? I thought you were some science genius or something, pulling Garibaldi's TA spot." She presented it to him like a model on the price is right, elegantly pointing to the various parts. "Lysergic acid diethylamide?"

He frowned at her, flipping through his mental encyclopedia until he landed on that particular molecule. "What? No it's not."

She nodded, a look of smug satisfaction spreading across her face. "Yes it is." She upended the model, scanning the bottom of it before handing it to him to inspect. "It so is."

Danny was speechless, feeling bested by the perky woman practically bouncing on her heels in front of him. "That old hippie must have some fond memories of tripping on LSD."

Danny felt a little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He couldn't help but find her recall abilities impressive. "I'm sure he's just impressed with the drug's hallucinogenic properties, and its fascinating history in relation to organic chemistry. Good eye though."

She dropped down in the chair across from him, squeezing her knees up against the front of the desk. "Don't be such a stick in the mud, Daniel. Lots of successful and famous people have done LSD, and they all say it's a very enlightening experience. Aldous Huxley… Steve Jobs… even Dan Rather."

"The news anchor?"

She nodded in affirmation. "And I don't just have a good eye. I'm intelligent." She reached down to scoop her bag off the floor. "Which is why I'm here."

Her tone shifted from flirtatious to combative in the blink of an eye, and it had him straightening in his chair defensively. He opened his mouth. "No one ever said you weren't smart, Ms. Lahiri."

She rolled her eyes, a juvenile act that should have undermined her argument, but it only made him wary. Reaching into the bag, she found what she was looking for and pulled it out in a dramatic flourish. "Would you drop the 'Ms. Lahiri' crap, you know my name, ok. Just stop. And as a matter of fact, you have said that I'm not smart."

"What? No, I haven't."

"Well, at least implied." She tossed the paper on the desk in front of him. "This is not a C paper. This is an A paper, that has a clearly stated thesis and scores of supporting arguments and citations, and just because you're not used to the 'overly floral' lexicon I have at my disposal, it doesn't mean that it deserves a lesser grade."

"What makes you think I graded it?"

She threw him the most disgusted look in her arsenal, her lip curling in distaste. "Oh, please. Of course you graded it. Garibaldi is a forward thinking scientist, who only cares about the facts presented him, and not from whence they come. You, on the other hand, can't seem to stop your personal relationship with me from getting in the way of your ability to properly dole out grades. Plus, that's obviously your tiny little repressed handwriting all over the back page."

"Personal relationship? What personal relationship?" The volume of his voice rose unexpectedly, his hands palming the desk in front of him.

"Are you kidding me? We spend three hours together every single Saturday morning!"

He looked at her like she was crazy. "And seventy five other students. Before today I've had exactly one interaction with you, and that was before I knew you were a student in this particular class. I'll put it this way. I have the same personal relationship with you as that lamp. The lamp provides light to that particular part of this room, and you… you do whatever it is you do, wherever it is you do it." He nodded toward the desk lamp in front of him, the light glowing from it under the thin green glass shade. "Ms. Lahiri I bear zero ill will toward you, in fact I bear nothing toward you at all."

"The lamp?" Fire blazed in her eyes. "Are you kidding me." She dropped her normal high pitched cheer, her voice going down at least an octave in her indignation.

Seeing her off balance, made him suddenly feel even keeled once again. He leaned back in the chair, even propping his legs on the corner of the desk, fingers laced behind his head. "Of course, maybe I should refrain from grading any of your papers from here on out, seeing as how you've formed such a clearly unlamplike attachment to myself."

"Can I take one moment to indulge this utterly narcissistic conversation, rife with made up words, and ask you what the hell you're talking about?"

"I see how you sneak glances at me while Garibaldi is yammering on about molecular weights. You've got it bad. It's only natural. Inexperienced co-ed, latching on to the first person to give her a little attention."

She shook her head, the heat building in her making her eyes glow. "That's absurd." She angrily rose from the chair, jerking her messenger bag up off the floor. She extricated herself from the tight space stomping toward the door. She couldn't quite leave though. Spinning on her heel she turned back to him. "As a matter of fact, Daniel, I do believe you're the one harboring unlamplike feelings for me. You never graded me so harshly before…"

"Before what?" Danny could feel the sweat glistening on his brow. He knew the tell tale dark splotches would soon be blooming across the fabric of his cotton button down in a matter of minutes.

"Before Brendan started walking me to and from class every single day. You're jealous."

"Jealous? That idiot isn't even taking the class. He's auditing." He spat out the word as if it were a rotten piece of meat. "I repeat, we have no personal relationship, so there's nothing to be jealous about. You're nothing but a lamp to me."

She clenched her jaw, a strangled growl of frustration escaping before she turned and left. She couldn't resist one last barb as she stomped away, yelling at the top of her lungs. "You sure enjoyed inspecting this lamp's wires, didn't you Danny?"

He listened to the echoing clicks of her heels in the hall until they faded completely away. For the life of him he couldn't figure out what part of him wanted to go running after her.


There were tears streaming down her face, but she wasn't sad or even upset. She was angry, a fire in her belly with no outlet. If he wasn't her TA she would have slapped him as hard as possible, relished the sting of her fingers against his skin. If only actions didn't have consequences. Wouldn't that just be perfect?

She couldn't see past her boiling rage, stomping down the hall toward the exit, her fingers trembling as they clenched and unclenched around the strap of her messenger bag. She knew she must look like a lunatic, the mascara running down her face in sooty little rivulets. Her endorphins had to have some kind of release, it was either this or pummeling a certain cocky Italian into a bloody pulp.

She rounded the corner at full speed, head down as she tried to regain her composure. A human wall met her, knocking her nearly flat on her ass, messenger bag flying off her shoulder, contents spilling out across the floor.

Something inside of her broke and the floodgates opened, fully formed sobs wracking her as she drew her knees up to her chest. She let the human roadblock collect her belongings and stick them back into her bag without a word, tucking her face into her knees in embarrassment. It wasn't until she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder that she looked up.

Clear understanding eyes stared down at her, one hand held out in offering. "Brendan… What are you doing here?" She took his hand, and rose unsteadily to her feet.

"I was walking by and couldn't help but sense some clearly unpleasant vibes emanating from this building. I had to investigate, just in case." He eyed her carefully, taking a step back and squinting. "You're aura seems… different than before. Are you upset?"

Brendan was sweet, but she fought the urge to roll her eyes, anyone who wasn't blind could see she was upset. "Um… yeah, but it's nothing. I'll get over it." She pursed her lips together. "No, you know what. It's not fine. Not at all." She turned toward Brendan, head held high. "I'm sick of people thinking I can either be girly OR smart. That I can like science OR pop culture. That somehow my interest in one precludes an ability to be taken seriously in regards to the other. It's damn sexist, if you ask me."

Brendan nodded. "Yes, yes. I agree. The patriarchy is quite disturbing. I take it someone in particular has hit a nerve today?"

She nodded, a little leary of blabbing about her conversation with Danny. Brendan took it in stride. "Don't worry. I'm fairly certain I know the source of your discomfiture." He leaned forward, placing a hand on each of her shoulders as he looked deeply into her eyes. "Don't let Danny make you feel less than you are, Mindy."

She felt a tiny smile spread across her face. His motivational-poster-worthy generic advice was a bit silly, but she still found it endearing that he cared enough to offer it. She opened her mouth to reply, but he swooped in close, laying an affectionate kiss on her cheek.

"How did you know it was him?"

Brendan turned, guiding her out of the building. "Because he's been watching you from the end of the hall since you ran into me. So predatory."