Chapter Text
Mindy and Danny sat at the breakfast table, enveloped by a comfortable silence, Danny fingering through the New York Post and Mindy scrolling through her Instagram feed. It's the type of lazy Saturday morning that's rare in their line of work. It's been a quiet week at the office as well, and Danny, he loves the quiet. He loves the simple indulgence of a morning off; he could start his run thirty minutes later than usual, he could enjoy two freshly pressed cups of coffee, and he could make Mindy a proper breakfast. But Mindy hated the quiet, she loved that it gave the facade of appearing as a lady of leisure, but she loathed not being busy. Mindy thrived on work; the hectic hours, the amicable candor between her and her patients, the graceful and dexterous movements of the delivery process, the unexpected thrills and rush of adrenaline of being on call, and the late nights in the doctor's lounge where she first fell in love. Mindy loved being busy. And when she wasn't, her mind wandered and the racing rush of her swirling thoughts couldn't be held in any longer, she needed to talk to Danny. This quiet could not continue.
"Danny."
"Hmmm," Danny answered, barely looking up from the newspaper.
"Danny."
"Mhmm hmm," Danny intoned again, angling his head to feign the appearance of listening, but his eyes, rimmed with his red glasses perched slightly crookedly on his nose, never left the page of the newspaper.
"Danny!" Mindy whined, reaching over to smack the back of his head, gently knocking his precariously placed glasses onto the newspaper.
"What, Min?" Danny snapped back, his head flipped up, eyes finally landing on her.
"Danny! Actually listen when I talk to you," Mindy said, hurling her napkin playfully at his face.
"I was listening!" Danny protested.
"Oh no you weren't Castellameo," Mindy whipped back, "And you really should have. Everything I say is of utmost importance. I'm like super hot and super smart and you're totally out of your league here.”
“I’m sorry. You’re right,” Danny answered, holding his hands up in surrender before Mindy got the idea to throw her fork at him. He smiles wickedly and leans towards her, “Let me make it up to you in kisses.” She swats his face away.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because,” she huffs in a tone of mock offense, as a small smile dances across her features, “If you don’t listen to me, then you aren’t getting any of this…what did you call it? Orchid.”
“Well damn,” Danny fires back, “I better shut my damn mouth so I can get you in my mouth later.”
Mindy snorts, “Oh my god, Danny! That's your line? You’re such a loser. Please explain to me why I’m dating such an old loser.”
“Because you love me?”
“No.”
“Because I have a perfectly proportioned penis?”
Mindy giggles, ”Yeah, I think that’s probably it.”
“Come here,” Danny beckoned.
“Ugh, you’re such an old perv,” Mindy rolled her eyes, but got up and perched herself on his lap. He angles his lip upward and presses them against hers, and Mindy leans into the kiss, smiling. It’s chaste and it manages to put a sparkle in her eyes that Danny absolutely loves. He loves that he puts a little bit of that magical happiness on her face, he wants to do that for the rest of his life.
Danny leans back in his chair and brushes her hair behind her ears, “You wanted to tell me something?”
The dreamy smile on her face dissipates into an inquiring one, “Oh right! I did want to tell you something. It’s about your Catholic stuff.”
“Oh?” Danny inquires, his eyebrows arching in surprise, “You have a question about Catholicism?”
“Yeah,” Mindy answered sweetly, “I wanted to know how I could become a Saint because I just really feel like I would be a great spokesperson for the church. I’m young, hot, ethnic, and would bring a lot of young people to church parties-“
“Mass,” Danny interjected weakly.
“What?” Mindy asked, confused to be cut off so abruptly mid-tangent.
“It’s not a Church Party, it’s called Mass. Come on, you almost married a minister. You should know that.”
“You know what, Danny? I’m still a little bit preoccupied with how he became a job flip-flopper with no real plans for our future, and then once I left him, became a rich and famous millionaire. It’s kind of a sore spot. Of course, I don’t remember the terms.”
“Right,” Danny mumbled, “Sorry. Go on.”
“Anyways,” she began again, “I would make the church Mass like so hip and cool. And plus, aren’t Saints like super famous? Like I've heard of Saint Patrick before and I know he has a huge party dedicated to him. I think this might be my calling, Danny. My true way to the fame I deserve.”
Danny couldn’t help but laugh, “Yeah, no. I’m sorry, you could never be a Saint.”
“How dare you?” She pouted, unwrapping her arms from around his neck, and crossing them over her chest. She slides off his lap in defiance of his dismissive tone and walks in the direction of the couch, perching herself on its arm, staring him down hard and assuming the position of battle, just daring him to prove her wrong, “I would be a great Saint.”
“No, you wouldn’t,” Danny says, as he also assumes a standing position, leaning against the back of his chair, “Min, you don’t even understand what a Saint is.”
“Yeah, I do,” she scoffs, “It’s like a famous hype person for the church. Danny, I have enough Twitter followers to be a great hype guy. Also, I’ve met Kris Jenner and she’s the savviest businesswoman to ever live. I’m basically overqualified.”
“Mindy,” Danny shook his head furiously, “That’s not what a Saint is. A Saint is the holiest type of person, judged to be worthy of our honor here on Earth. They are followers and examples of the Living Christ.”
“Ugh, what does that even mean, Danny?”
“It means that they are our heavenly advocates. They are our patrons-”
“Danny,I patronize you all the time, especially about your wardrobe. I'd be great at that."
“Patron, not patronize. Let me finish.”
Mindy flings her hands and allows him to continue.
“They are our patrons in heaven. They advocate for the needs of a people or a nation.”
“I could do that!” Mindy shoot back, “I could be the patron saint of Hot Doctors. I could be the Patron Saint of women who want to look bangable at work. I could be the Patron Saint of Fashion. I could the Patron Saint of Girls whose Boyfriends aren’t going to get laid tonight.”
“Min, only the most faithful and virtuous Catholics can become saints.”
“Danny, what are you even saying?”
Danny sighed, his palm lightly connecting with his cheek, running his hand across the stubs of hair lining his chin, “I’m saying you need to be a Good Christian to be a Saint. You need to go to church at least once a week. And-”
“Ugh, eww, gross, never mind,” Mindy interjected, finally plopping herself directly onto the couch cushions, “I don’t want to be a Saint anymore. I’ll just stick to being Hindu and be reincarnated as an immortal famous God or something.”
“Can you even do that?” Danny asked, joining her on the couch, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, and she moved her head to rest in the crevice.
Mindy scrunches up her nose and looks him in the eye, “I don’t even know, but I think so? I’m gonna say yes.”
“Fair enough,” Danny asks, “Are you going to be gross with me and come to church tomorrow?”
Mindy sits up a little, raising her head from his shoulder, looking incredulous, “Of course I am, you dummy.”
Danny smiles, “Really? Even though it’s boring and gross and you’d rather die than ‘be seen hanging out with that many old people on my day off?’”
“I stand by all that,” Mindy answers, slinking into his lap and wrapping her arms around his neck, leaning their foreheads together, “But I love you.”
“You’re willing to sit through two hours on those hard pews and Ma and Dot’s complaining every weekend? Even though the chip is stale and wine is an, and I quote, abomination?”
“Yeah, every weekend for the rest of my life.”
“Wow, babe, you were right.”
“I’m always right,” Mindy preens, “But what exactly about this time?”
Danny kisses her.
“You really are a saint.”