Chapter 1 - A Five Year Plan

Friday, December 14th, 2012

Though he'd never admit it, Christmastime brings Danny joy in a way little else does anymore. It isn't like it's some magical time that makes the world seem like a better place. Rotten people are still rotten, trains still don't always run on time, and even at Christmas - maybe especially at Christmas - people still disappoint you.

Even though these truths are unchanging, it stands that Christmas is clearly the best time of year. There's a quality of excitement in the air that's nearly tangible. It's the only time you can walk into a store and hear Sinatra playing. It's closer to the way life should feel. It's traditional. Even mass is better.

The only downside is people expect you to attend things and participate. Who needs to go to twelve different holiday parties in a two week span of time? And gifts! He happily buys something for his mother and brother, but past that it all feels like a waste. Secret Santa is stupid, and despite the many times he's been forced to participate, Danny still has no idea how Dirty Santa is supposed to work. Are they supposed to be gag gifts or not? Most of the time he blows off 90% of the parties he's invited to or comes up with a decent excuse. Yet somehow he gets sucked into Mindy's plans like he always does and ends up toting a very large, very lovingly crafted gingerbread house from Tribeca to Greenwich Village on an unseasonably warm December night.

It's honestly not so bad. For a shining moment he's even glad he came.

Except it can never be as easy as all that, especially when Mindy Lahiri is involved. Josh the skeezy-looking boyfriend turns out, unsurprisingly, to be a cheater. And no matter how much sound advice Danny tries to offer, it doesn't help. It wouldn't be all that big a deal to him, it's just that whenever he looks in her eyes, he sees a heartbreak familiar in a way it makes his stomach clench.

So Danny doesn't leave. Even though he tries. The winter air is cool in his lungs as he stands planted on the sidewalk, watching Mindy run barefooted up the steps of her building. He can't go. Because he knows how she feels, and he can do the one thing no one was there to do for him. He can be there.

He cancels his date, which will probably be the end of that, and after tonight he may be changing his opinion on Christmastime. He will certainly never attending the office Christmas party again, that's for sure.

Her cheeks are streaked with tears, mascara smudged, and Mindy's got a wild-eyed look about her that scares him while still being better than unbridled hurt from a few minutes ago.

"Danny, promise me," she clutches the leather sleeve of his jacket. "If we're both still single in five years?" His eyes narrow and there's a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach, something that feels like dread and something else. "We'll kill each other?"

He exhales hard, and maybe he does have a rattle when he breaths. "Deal."

Danny shakes her hand and can't help laugh. What a stupid thing to have thought.

"What?" she asks.

"Hmm?"

"You're laughing what's so funny? You don't think I mean it? Because I have access to some pretty high-powered drugs, mister."

"No, it's not that. That's just - that isn't what I thought you were going to say."

"Oh? What did you think I was going to say?"

"You know..." Mindy shakes her head and looks back at him with those huge, dark eyes. "Come on, I've seen those movies you watch. I thought you were going to say something crazy. Like if in five years we're both still single we get married or something."

She flinches, just the tiniest bit, but Danny notices. "That is a surprisingly mean thing to say, Danny. Even for you."

"What?! Why is that mean?"

"Because you basically just said it is a worse fate to be married to me than a murder/suicide pact!" She tries to sound like she's joking around, but there are tears shining in her eyes again.

Shit. Why does he have to go and stick his foot in his mouth tonight of all nights? What is he going to say? 'I think it's just as likely for us both to be struck down by lightning and killed right this very instant than it is to picture us married. Sorry again about your boyfriend.'

"Don't be that way. You know I didn't mean it like that. Didn't I just say a bunch of nice stuff about you?"

"Yeah. Nice, hypothetical stuff. It's fine. You don't have to mean it." This time it's Danny's turn to flinch.

"Hey. Listen." He grabs her fingers and makes her look at him, needing to make her understand more than he can fathom why. "I meant every word. And not just hypothetical or to make you feel better. You're great. Smart, pretty, funny. Any guy would be lucky to have you."

"Yeah?"

"Of course."

"Then why'd you laugh when you thought I was proposing?"

A slightly drunk and very heartbroken Mindy Lahiri proposing marriage to him on her bed. Damn it, he still can't help but smile.

"Okay." She pushes on his thigh with her toes under the blanket. "You're smiling. Just go. Get out of here. Let me wallow in pity alone."

"No. Mindy." He clamps a hand on her wiggling foot through the fabric. "It's just funny to me because I pictured it. For real."

Her lip is starting to quiver and he is doing such a shit job of making this better. Danny thinks about not digging in any deeper and walking away. Instead he blurts, "Think about it."

"It wouldn't be that bad! Sure, we'd have hairy children, but they'd be stupid hot and probably very intelligent."

His stomach twists and doesn't allow himself to think of any child that shares his DNA. Even hypothetically, it's not something he wants to think about. Danny concedes enough he hopes it will end the conversation. "They would be genetically blessed, that's true."

That earns him a genuine smile and he tugs on her hand. "Come on. Party's still going. Don't stay in here; let's go have a little fun.

Mindy looks at him like he's the crazy one now. But she goes.

They reopen the office on the 27th for two days only before closing again for the New Year, which seems like a complete waste to Mindy. She still comes in, apparently much to everyone's surprise. After an hour this morning spent with cucumber slices over her swollen eyelids, a generous helping of concealer, and the brightest dress she can find pulled hastily from the hanger, she actually looks pretty freaking great, if she does say so herself.

The morning goes more smoothly than she thought it would, filled with only her favorite patients. By lunchtime her face hurts from the forced smile she's worn for hours. There's a knock on her office door and reflexively Mindy forces the corners of her mouth up before seeing that it's just Danny. She drops the pretense and watches as he shuts the door behind himself, a large, white plastic bag in his hand.

"I brought lunch from that place you like."

Mindy's stomach growls at the smell, but after days sustained solely on red wine and chocolate the idea of solid food is enough to make her have to swallow down the acrid taste rising in her throat. "Thanks, but I don't think-"

"It's a thoughtful gesture. You have to at least pretend to eat a little of it. I even got your order right."

Danny begins pulling items out of the sack, and she's intrigued that he even has any idea what she orders from this place. "If you actually got my order right, I'll eat at least some of it."

He grins, setting his tuna salad sandwich aside, and begins displaying each container in front of her like he thinks he's so clever. "Extra large potato soup, no chives. Extra container cheddar cheese. Extra container bacon bits. Bread bowl on the side."

Okay, so he's clever. "I am very impressed, Danny. How did you even know that? We've eaten there, like, once."

"Simple. You always want extra of the things that are going to give you high cholesterol. You're always afraid you're going to have onion breath. And you rant about the idiocies of the basic concept of bread bowl at least twice a month."

"Well that's very thoughtful. And only mildly insulting. Thank you."

Danny shrugs and flops into the chair across from her, immediately digging into his sandwich, stuffing a fourth of it into his mouth on the first bite. She tears a tiny piece off the empty bread bowl and dips an edge into her still-steaming soup. It's hot and maybe tastes better than anything Mindy's ever eaten before, and she crosses her fingers her body won't immediately reject it.

"I happen to agree with you about that," Danny says, mouth still full.

"About what?"

"The whole concept of a bread bowl. It's ridiculous."

"Right?! By the time you've eaten all the soup the bread is all soggy and cold, and if you eat the bread while there's still soup in it, the whole thing becomes structurally unsound. Then bam! A lap full of scalding hot soup! It's such a waste of good bread."

They eat in silence for a few minutes, Danny finishing his sandwich before Mindy can take three bites of her soup. He throws the wadded up wrapper in the plastic bag still sitting on her desk, and stands to go.

"Thank you."

Danny turns from the door, hands on his hips. "What for? Lunch? I think it was my turn to buy anyway."

"Lunch. And for staying the other night. I don't think I remembered to thank you for doing what you did. I really appreciate it, Danny."

"Yeah," he shakes his head. "It wasn't anything. Oh! That does remind me though..." Danny shoves a hand into the back pocket of his jeans and pulls out several sheets of copy paper, folded twice so they fit in his pocket. "No hurry, but I went ahead and filled out my part. I know how long it takes you to get paperwork done." He grins wide. "I figure five years should be plenty of time."

Mindy frowns when he hands the papers to her, noticing his neat block-lettering covering half the first page before seeing the header: New York State Application for Marriage License.

He's down the hall before she can even take a deep breath and try come up with at least a snappy comeback. Mindy doesn't know if she should be irritated - it may be too soon to be joking about this - or find it what it really is: absolutely fucking preposterously hilarious. She does know that for the first time in a week she has a genuine smile on her face.

Since I'll probably be asleep, and you and your best friend

tier will be, I'm guessing, drunk into oblivion, Happy New

Year early.

To: Mindy 12:43pm - December 31, 2012

Au contraire, my friend. (About the friend tier, the drunkenness

is a maybe.) Happy New Year. Enjoy going to bed at 9, old man.

To: Danny 12:45pm - December 31, 2012

You seriously don't have like 8 of your best friends lined up

for a blitzkrieg of alcohol and debauchery?

To: Mindy 12:49pm - December 31, 2012

No.

To: Danny 12:49pm - December 31, 2012

Are you at home?

To Mindy 12:57pm - December 31, 2012

Why?

To: Danny 12:57pm - December 31, 2012

It's a feeling maybe a little too familiar. At least now that she's in her early thirties. It's that universal feeling of intense discomfort combined with regret that comes only from drinking way, way too much. Mindy assesses. She rolls her neck, and her head thumps in time with the beat of her heart. Okay, this is going to be a pretty bad one. She wiggles her fingers and toes; no paralysis. All of her major organs feel relatively functional, save for her liver. That, she would swear, she can feel straining.

The bed Mindy's lying in is comfortable, her face mashed into a nice-smelling feather pillow. She's 90% certain it's her bed she's in, and 75% certain she's in it alone. The alone part tugs momentarily at her gut, and for once it's not because of fucking Josh. There's just something tugging right at the edge of her consciousness that makes her think maybe there was a chance she almost hooked up with someone last night.

Covering her eyes with her hand, Mindy breaks the disgustingly crusty seal of her eyes and peeks through her fingers: no one. She's alone. Thank God. Not that a random hook-up wouldn't be allowed in this situation. She's still well within the "your boyfriend's a cheating slimeball from hell" window where it is still acceptable to do a rando. Not really the way she wants to start the new year, though.

Ugh, New Year's Day. It's supposed to be a time for resolutions and fresh starts. That's a joke. She'll be lucky if she can make it into the shower today, and is already thinking the best course of action, once she can make all of her limbs work, is a pot of coffee followed by a mimosa breakfast.

Mindy drags her hand across her face, willing her head to stop throbbing and rubbing the grit from her eyes. The warm edge of cheap metal scratches the bridge of her nose and her eyes blearily focus on the thin, adjustable band on her finger she doesn't remember putting there. It isn't something of hers because "adjustable jewelry" is not a thing.

Pulling her hand away to get a better look at the too-cheap-to-be-anything-but-rhinestone on the ring finger of her left hand, Mindy starts to remember. With stomach-churning clarity she remembers every single moment of the night before. And she wishes to God she didn't.

A/N: This is for rikyl. Because back in May she posted on Tumblr about wanting a Josh and Mindy's Christmas Party AU, and it sent plot bunnies hopping in my head.