Okay, it has taken me literally months to update this. So much has happened this season and me finishing this is way past due. We've gotten so much from these two, so this last chapter is probably irrelevant but I just had to finish it. This is my very first multi-fic and y'know, I don't think it went all that horribly. I've learned a lot from all of the fantastic writers in this fandom, so I'll just keep the writing. I hope you guys enjoy this last chapter, and if not, well at least you can't say I didn't finish it. Leave me comments, mostly so I can learn from what I did here. I'd really appreciate it. Dandy on. =)
-yourealoverimarunner
She's standing in her kitchen, clad in her favorite green polka dot short set pajamas and pouring her fourth glass of wine (that's a lie, it's her seventh. Or maybe her eighth? Whatever.) when she realizes she's out. She groans and takes a gander around. Three empty bottles line her counter, and that's just not going to do. How is she supposed to dramatically drown her sorrows out with no wine? See, the plan is to stay holed up in her apartment for an indefinite amount of time (probably just the weekend because Jeremy won't let her take anymore heartbreak days, claiming "those aren't a real thing" or something), with multiple bottles expensive cabernet sauvignon while watching romcoms starring hot British actors and eating large quantities of glass noodles until she's not replaying what was perhaps one of the top three dumbest moments of her entire life (which is actually saying a lot). She laughs faintly at the memory.
Her leaving the office with this brilliant idea that she's going to wait for him at his apartment so she can romantically spill her feelings out for him. Tell him she's terrified about making this something more but she's also really excited because she wants this. Her sneaking in behind his neighbor, Mrs. Herbstein (and subsequently helping Mrs. Herbstein take her groceries up to the seventh floor, why a person needs three bags filled to the brim with gouda is beyond her) only for her to see that Danny isn't home.
Her deciding to wait on the stoop instead.
An hour passing.
And then another.
And another, before she realizes almost three hours have passed and she's been sitting (unglamourously, she might add) outside on his stairs, just waiting. Her giving up the notion of this being a romantic grand gesture and actually calling him at least 10 times. Sending him several text messages, even going as far as shooting out two or three emails.
Getting no response.
The realization hitting her that... he's probably moved on, because how could he have not? He's a catch. Handsome and so dependable and funny (in a curmudgeonly kind of way) and not a selfish lover at all- he's actually very, very generous- and he visits his mother every Sunday and goes to church somewhat occasionally and she...she knows she can be quite the difficult party. Why would he want to have anything to do with her? She missed her opportunity.
That thought above everything else hurts the most.
She downs the rest of her glass and then moves around her kitchen to locate another bottle, which she finds tucked away in one of the dark recesses of her cabinets. She refills immediately, taking a large gulp. She's just going to drink and drink, and y'know, the idea of never returning back to work again is starting to sound pretty fantastic. Maybe she'll just run a very small ob/gyn place out of her living room instead. Something small, very elite. Someplace Lady Gaga will go when she decides to get knocked up. Actually-no, that's disgusting. She paid a lot of money for that rug out there, and she'll be damned if some pregnant lady, especially someone like Ms. Germanotta, ruins it by breaking her water on it. Also, her electric bill would probably be sky high from all the necessary equipment, and she's already checked before- ultrasound machines don't come in pink or yellow, which is a shame because a pink ultrasound would like amazing in-
A knock sounds through her apartment, and she freezes.
It's him.
Another knock comes, this one heavier.
Then another.
Then a final knock, followed by an all too familiar voice. One that leaves a heat building in her gut.
"Min."
He knows she's inside.
She's inside.
She is.
He hopes she's inside.
It would not surprise him at all if she's out on a date right now with some other guy- some fucking ex-Abercrombie and Fitch model with blonde hair and no idea about what it means to own a checkbook and a tendency to treat women with little to no respect- and she's probably just eating it all up and not thinking about him at all.
Because that's what happens when you lose track of time and miss calls and text messages and voicemails and emails: you miss your chance. The door of opportunity closes and the girl you're in love with moves on to guys named Josh or Brad or Hayden for Christ's sake and you're the one stuck standing on the outside. He kicks the wall lightly and blows softly through his lips. It's times like this where he wishes he could take a shot or something because he is a fucking bundle of nerves. Nerves and sweat from racing from to his place to see if she was still waiting for him, and then over here to get to her. All he needs is for her to open the door so he can explain that he got all her messages four hours too late and he wasn't ignoring her. It was quite the opposite actually. All he did while he was home was think about her and try to sort through his thoughts, and he's sure she's out now drinking him away and he can't have that happen. Not when they've gotten this far.
He knocks again and lets her name slip from his lips as a final attempt. He waits, moving himself to the other side of the hall to stare at her door, and then counts to 30.
And then 45.
Why not go to sixty.
No shame in counting to a hundred.
He finishes his countdown and then counts backwards, hoping...
but it's no use.
He pushes off the wall and is prepping to walk away again when the door swings open.
She can't really tell you what happened in between the moment she opened her door to see him standing there, and this moment right here- him between legs, her pressed up against the doorframe, his lips on hers and them absolutely devouring each other- but she can tell you that she's glad it's happening. She can't think of anything else except for this right here and how good it all feels: his hands running up and down her sides before finding purchase on her ass, his fingers squeezing into her thighs, lips roving from her mouth to that spot just under her ear...
A moan slips from her, and she feels him smile against her throat, nipping at the skin there. He's back to her lips in no time, their kiss easily transitioning from delicate to passionate. His tongue begs for entrance and she gifts it to him, impatient to feel that warmth she's missed since they last parted. She feels that familiar heat rising in her again, that same heat from the plane and from those times in his apartment, and she suddenly she can't wait any longer. She goes for the buckle on his pants, swiftly undoing it and tossing it to the ground. She's blindly moving her fingers to the button of his slacks when she feels his hands around her wrists, and he's pulling away.
"Min," he breathes out, eyes still darkened. His lips are red and slightly swollen, hair mussed, and she wonders how she must look. A laugh escapes her and he offers her one back before stepping out of her embrace, which she freaking hates. She goes to step toward him again but he meets her with a step back, placing his hand out to stop her.
"Mindy, wait." He takes a couple of breaths and then flashes her one of his lopsided grins that make her knees go just a little weak before he continues on. "As much as I'm enjoying this, I...we need to talk."
And there goes all of the air in the room. Of course. Yes. Yes, they need to talk. He's right. She rights her top and fixes her buttons before smoothing her hair down.
"You want something to drink?" she offers after a while. He smiles back.
"Got any coffee?"
It's awkward.
He knows this.
He also knows that there's a lot that needs to be said so he'll take this for right now. This stillness. Her leaning against the counter at the sink, nursing a mug of tea. Him sitting at her island, jacket draped across the back of one of her chairs, a cup of black coffee between his palms steaming up into his face. He takes a small sip from the cup and cracks his neck from side to side before peering up to take a peek at her. She's biting on her bottom lip, fingers tapping on the side of her mug and looking at the floor. A few pieces of her hair that have slipped out of her updo and are waving in her face and god, for a split second he seriously considers getting up and tucking those strands behind her ear. Running his fingers down her jawline before lifting those lips up to his...
He forces that thought to pass though, because it's very important that he focuses on what he's going to say to her. He replays the conversation he had earlier that day with his mother in his head and smiles.
"You gotta tell her, Danny. You gotta tell her, or it's gonna eat you alive."
"I know, Ma. It's just..."
"No, there is no 'it's just'. Either it is or it isn't. Either you want this or you don't."
"Ma... she's scared. I don't know if she wants this like I want it. I...if she says no..."
"You're a little scared, too."
"I'm- I'm not-"
"She's not Christina, honey."
"I know, Ma."
"And she's not your father either."
"...I know."
"Then do something about it. I know you like to wait things out but I don't think this is one of those things you needa be waiting on. Something like this will pass you by if you don't grab it, and I don't want that for you. And I know you don't want that for yourself. Not when it's something this good, this meaningful. Tell that girl you love her, Daniel. Tell her before it's too late."
He take another sip of his coffee before pushing it away and leaning back in his chair. Gathering up his courage, he's about to speak when she speaks instead.
"So, I talked to Cliff today."
Okay. This is not the way he pictured this conversation starting, but he'll take it.
"...Oh. Okay."
"Yeah."
She's placed her mug on the counter beside her now and has her arms folded across her chest. She's looking at him and for the first time in a long time, probably since he's known her, he can't read on her face how she feels. That scares him just a little bit. He presses forward.
"Okay. Umm... W-what did he say?"
She lets out a curt laugh, shaking her head. "Oh, he said a lot of stuff."
"Like?"
"Well," she says, adjusting her glasses on her face, "outside of the fact that he basically called me untrustworthy, he told me that he always suspected that I had feelings for you."
"And?"
"And what?"
"Do you?"
"Do I what, Danny? Let's use of our words here."
He watches his thumb run up the side of his cup before meeting her eyes once more. Sitting back in his chair, he continues.
"Do you have feelings for me?"
She rolls her eyes at him. "Haven't we already gone through this, Castellano? I mean, I was just making out with you against my front door like twenty minutes ago. We haven't even been on a first date yet and I've allowed you to get a taste of this," she says motioning up and down her body with a wide smile. "I think it's safe to say I have more than a few feelings for you."
In this moment, a small insecurity slips out before he can catch it. "I just wanted to make sure, because before we were kind of caught up in the moment and..."
"And what?"
His eyes snap up at her. She's still. Waiting.
Fuck it, he's here now. He might as well keep going.
"I'm just saying, before, our emotions were running on high and we just kind of fell into each other-"
"Fell into each other?" she scoffs, "Oh my god, Danny, you're an gynecologist, you can say sex-"
"Okay, when he had sex. In our timeline of being intimate"- this garners another eye roll from her, followed by a laugh- "there could have been a time where those feelings changed. I mean, I did catch you trying to sneak out of my apartment the next morning."
She quiets again for a moment, her eyes boring into his. "Is that what this is about?" she asks softly. "Me leaving?"
And how can he say it's not? Well, it's not all about that. But it mostly is. He'd rather her just tell him now that she doesn't want this and not leave him hanging on. Get this all out definitely and he can move on. Yes, that would be a critical hit and God knows he's had enough of those and he doesn't know if he could survive one from her but he'd try.
Who's he kidding. Look at him this week when she just needed some space and he was hanging in the unknown. A definite "no" from her would be the end for him.
He clears his throat. "I mean, you did say you didn't know before. I just want to know if... if that thought still stands."
She's takes a step toward him but stops, as if she needs the distance to get out what she needs to say.
"You know, Danny? Today, I got stuck on an elevator."
"What? Where? Are you okay? How did-"
"I'm fine," she says putting her hand up. "I was coming back from meeting Cliff and I was practically racing back to the practice to get back to you to tell you that him and I were done. That I only wanted you, even though I was terrified. Because I am terrified, and I honestly don't know when that will change."
He feels like his chest is exploding. This is it then. This is... He runs his hand down his face and lets out an exhale. She doesn't... fuck.
"O-okay," he swallows. He turns around to grab his jacket and is putting it on when her voice stops him. "Wait, where are you going?"
"Mindy, you clearly don't want this, so I'm just-"
"Wait, Danny, I never said that. I'm not finished." She's moving closer to him now until she's right in front of him. He can't look at her, so instead he just looks at the ground.
"Danny," she sighs, "I am absolutely freaking out about this. You're not just some guy to me. You're... you're my best friend. You're my co-worker. You're the first person I text when they give me a free pastry at Starbucks, and most times it's even before I text Gwen. You're not like any of the guys before you. You're- something else. Something better. The fact that even after knowing me, even after knowing I don't cook and I rarely work out and I love Katy Perry and I don't really understand Wes Anderson movies, you still want to be with me- that's scary to me."
She steps closer to him now and reaches her hands out to thread their fingers together. "But... that's also liberating. I don't have to hide around you. I can be myself completely, I don't have to put on an act. Of course I'm terrified, and that's because I don't want to ruin this. I don't want to mess this up and ruin our friendship. But that doesn't mean I don't want to at least try it out."
She hopes he can't tell she's holding her breath right now, because she is. She's said what she's had to say but he hasn't said anything and he hasn't looked at her. But he also hasn't moved away or parted their hands, so that's a good sign.
She hopes.
She watches him a moment more before she pipes up.
"Danny? Danny... say something." She lifts her palm to his cheek and lifts his head. "Hey. Hey...look at me."
The eyes gazing back at her are not the normal ones. She can track Danny's emotions pretty easily, but there's something else here that she's never seen and she doesn't know if that's a good thing or not. She starts to speak again, but when he starts to move into her space, the words get caught in her throat. He's pressed up against her now, lifting his own palm to her face and rethreading their other hands. His voice is low when he speaks.
"I visited my Ma today."
Of course. That makes so much sense. She feels like such an idiot for not thinking he would go there. Duh, Lahiri.
"Is that where you were while I was waiting at your place for almost three hours?" she asks, leaning further into his touch. He nods. "I'm so sorry about that by the way. If I knew you were waiting, I'd have come back a lot sooner. I want you to know that. You know I'd never leave you waiting somewhere like that." She shrugs and encourages him to go on. He slides a hand around her waist.
"You know, she gave me some really good advice."
"Yeah? And what was that?"
"She..." he sighs, "She told me to stop being so scared and tell you that I'm in love with you. I... want this. I want you."
If she wasn't holding her breath before, she definitely is now.
"W-what?" she stutters.
She feels him run his thumb over her cheekbone, and he's looking down at her under those long lashes and she can't really breathe right now. A lot is happening and a lot is being said and she just-
"Yeah. I... I want this, Min. Have for a while."
And it's like all of the pieces fall into place right in that point in time. Clarity striking her. Both of them are scared but despite that, they both want this so badly and that's worth fighting for. The ups and downs of this entire week, their kiss on the plane, all the little moments they've shared in hotel rooms and the lounge, over salads and sandwiches, over shots of tequila, in cab rides through the city and walks in the Village- they have all built up to this one right here: him holding her so close, saying those words that she didn't know she wanted to hear until right now. It's a different kind of fall than she's ever taken, than it ever was with Cliff or Casey or Josh. This is how it's supposed to be, she realizes. It's supposed to mean this much. It's supposed to be this honest.
It's supposed to be this guy right here.
Before she knows it, they're right back to where they were instances ago- pressed into each other, lips seeking lips. It's frantic and rushed and right on time. She reaches her hands up around his neck and pulls him closer to her.
"I love you," she whispers against his lips. He runs a hand up the back of her neck and deepens their kiss, tongue and lips saying all the things they can't find words for, his other hand snaking around to her backside, crushing her hips into his. They stay like that for while, trading silent declarations between them, until she feels the need to pull away. She needs to know. She pushes him away softly, watching him take a breath, running his tongue over his lips before he breaks into a soft smile. She almost tempted to pull him back, but she has something very important to ask.
"So... what does this mean?" she says with an exhale, adjusting her glasses on her face.
He lets out his own breath.
"It means... let's try this thing. I'm all in, Min."
"Yeah?"
He nods and steps back into her. And even though she can feel that fear of messing this all up coursing through her veins, she makes a promise then and there to spend however long it takes to make sure they make this work. He's what she wants.
"I'm all in too, Danny. I'm all in, too."
/
You're the only thing I want,
and I said I wouldn't cry about it.
This is the last time.
