She chalks it up to his issues with cheating and the fact that even if he and Casey aren't friends he respects the man because he's a minister. That's the only reason Mindy doesn't take Danny to task for almost calling her a slut. That and watching his face fall pitifully, his eyes looking like an kicked puppy when it sinks in that Paul really did have sex with Christina last night - in his own apartment at that - before shutting it down and sucker punching stupid Paul's beautiful face.

It's after Mindy goes all the way to the YMCA - which smells terrible, by the way - and pulls him off the basketball court, dragging him back to the office, that she really notices Danny's more broody than usual and favoring his right hand, the knuckles there a livid red.

"Come on, we're going."

"What? You just dragged me back here." Mindy rounds his desk and tugs on his arm, lifting him out of the chair.

"And now we're going. Our work here is done. Paul's leaving, like the weird, hot drifter that he is -"

"- I don't think he's a drifter."

"- and everything is going back to the way it should be. Let's go. Come on."

No one in the office says a word or tries to stop them as they make their way to the elevator and she doesn't let go of his arm until they're halfway to his apartment.

"I don't really want to do this right now, okay?" He's glancing up at his building with a look on his face like they're on top of the Empire State Building and she's telling him to jump. "I'm just going to go back to -"

"No, Danny. We're doing it now." His eyes flick to her face at the word 'we' and she puts her hand back on his arm. He takes a deep breath and looks up a his fourth floor windows and nods.


"Where is your first aid kit, Danny? And don't tell me you don't have one. You're a doctor. You should know better than that."

She pops up from where she's squatting by the island, every one of his cabinets riffled through and nary a band-aid or suture kit found. (One of the perks of being a doctor is all the free gauze, suture kits and latex gloves you want. Her accident proneness is adorable, and she likes to be prepared. Also, playing doctor is the best.)

"Well," Danny takes her by the forearms and maneuvers her towards the living room, "I'm normal, so I don't keep my first aid kit in my kitchen."

"Wha - I don't understand why you say stuff like that. When's the last time you accidentally caught yourself on fire in your bathroom?"

"I don't think - wait, how often do you catch yourself on fire in your kitchen?"

Mindy shrugs, the exact number eluding her, but she does remember specifically the last time. "Fondue is surprisingly hard."

"Huh."

She trails after him into the bathroom and watches him pull the white, rectangular box from under the vanity. Who would ever need that there? "'Huh' what?"

Danny shrugs and walks back through his bedroom into the living area. "You might have a point. I nick myself cooking all the time."

Mindy beams. "Exactly! Most dangerous room in anyone's house."

He places the kit by the kitchen sink and starts taking out the square cotton swabs and tiny bottle of peroxide. "Here." Mindy takes everything from him before he can start using it. "Let me."

And he does, which really surprises Mindy. He doesn't make some gruff macho comment about being able to do it himself or tell some bogus story about doing his own stitches after a made-up fight. Danny just silently lets her take his hand in hers and start working. His knuckles aren't really bad, just raw and bruised with a couple shallow cuts. Cuts from where the taught skin of his fist made contact with Paul's teeth and bone. It's kinda hot.

No. It's not hot. Mindy shakes her head trying to dislodge the sudden imagine of Danny, all intense and manly, defending her against some faceless aggressor. And no, that's not hot. It's barbarism. Danny is not hot.

"What?"

She looks up and finds his eyes, surprisingly close and boring into hers, all warm and the color of chocolate. And she thinks, suddenly a little afraid, that she might be looking back at him with the same expression she has on her face when looking at actual chocolate - like something she's about to happily devour.

Mindy shifts a tiny step back.

"Um," she says, her voice sounding terribly soft and out of breath. "Nothing."

She hastily looks away, grabbing the disinfectant and trying to finish as fast she can, acutely aware of the way his fingers are wrapped around her wrist where she holds his right hand steady with her left.

"There." She lets him go, her fingers feeling cold once she does. "I don't think you'll need a band-aid."

"Nah." Danny flexes his hand, wincing only a little, the goopy cream on his knuckles making them glisten. "Thanks."

Mindy nods and cleans up the mess, placing the first aid kit under the sink. She rubs her hands together - it's time to get to work. "Now we cleanse your apartment."


It doesn't take any convincing on her part to get him on board with What Must Be Done after situations like this; because this is what you do when this happens. They strip the bed quickly and Mindy carries the linens into the bathroom while Danny drags the kitchen trash can in and produces, from somewhere, a bottle lighter fluid and a stick-lighter. Psycho.

They are somber when the fire starts and Danny doesn't comment on all the rituals that go along with cleansing things. He just does what she says and doesn't make fun of her once, which is the same as agreeing that this is the most reasonable course of action possible in Mindy's opinion.

Eventually, as things start to really burn, the elastic in the fitted sheet starting to melt, Danny begins fidgeting.

"I'm sorry I almost called you a - a - you know. You're not. One."

"Yeah. I know I'm not." It sounds defensive, but she doesn't mean it that way. She has nothing she needs to defend and no one she feels the need to answer to. "I am glad that you don't think that, though."

"I don't. And you may be a lot of things, but you're not a cheater." Mindy looks up at him and he's got that goofy lopsided grin on his face, only it looks a lot more painful than a smile.

"Danny," she puts a hand on his arm, wanting to soften some of that pain. The fire in front of them is making her face hot. "What happened with Christina, it -"

"Nah, Mindy. Don't. We don't need to talk about this."

"It might help."

"It doesn't -" he puffs out his lips, exhaling a breath in a huff. "I don't need help. I'm good."

"Come on, Danny. You don't have to hide your brokenness from me. I don't judge you just because you've been left a shell of a man with an inability to love."

He smiles for real this time, the one with his whole mouth that makes it all the way up to the crinkles by his eyes. "Yeah, alright. Thanks for the pep talk, Min. You're really good at this."

"Well, you don't have to be sarcastic." Mindy takes her hand off his arm, not feeling nearly as sympathetic anymore.

"Look. I mean it. It - yeah, it sucks that Christina slept with Paul. I hate it. And in my bed, that is an especially twisted thing. But it doesn't matter. Christina and I aren't together. And that is a good thing. We should never have gotten back together in the first place." He swallows and does that thing where he pauses intensely.

"I'm not in love with her anymore."

"Really?"

"Yeah. And you were right. If she slept with Paul to hurt me clearly I'm more over her than she's over me. It's kinda nice to be the one moving on."

"That is surprisingly healthy, Danny. Especially coming from a man who keeps a giant bottle of lighter fluid in his apartment for some reason and doesn't own a grill."

"Come 'ere." He crooks his elbow around her neck and pulls her in for a hug.

Mindy hugs him back and doesn't feel anything other than relief that her friend is going to be okay. They're going to be okay, too.

It really is hot in here. She opens her eyes and the contained fire is suddenly licking close enough to the ceiling it's starting to singe.

"Oh, god, Danny! I was wrong! Go. Go get the first aid kit out of the kitchen!" She shoves his shoulders and his feet tangle before breaking into a sprint.

"I'm getting the fire extinguisher!"

"That too!"


A/N: I was convinced for a very long time that Mindy keeping her first aid kit in the kitchen was canon. However, upon rewatches I have yet to see a mention of that. So either I made it up, am not paying close enough attention, or, most likely, I read it in a fic and made it headcanon. If anyone knows of another story in which that appears please let me know. I would love to read it again and also give credit where it is due. Thanks!