Disclaimer - Umm. Well. Kinda ABC. Kinda Hallmark.
Damn you, Meg. This was inspired by your top ten dating tips.
After completion I realised that this was kind of similar to something that someone is planning. This was NOT intentional, but feel free to curse me if you wish. I have a magic axe handy...
A little bit of swearing. Nothing obscene. Don't take this seriously.
*
Dammit, he'd done it again.
As Denby stirred among the trash bags - just managing to regain his consciousness and realising that disgusting taste that inhabited his mouth - he realised what had happened.
Denby + scotch = a shit load of trouble.
Stumbling to his feet he rubbed his hand over his face, then tried to assess his surroundings. It was none too easy. His head was pounding, his mind was spinning, and he felt awful.
He seemed to be in an alleyway - a place that he frequently ended up - although this one was unfamiliar. In fact it didn't look familiar in the slightest. He had absolutely no idea where he was.
It was daylight. That much he knew. And the floor hadn't been damp and the garbage he'd been lying on hadn't smelt at all - all of which was unusual, given this was New York. At least, he hoped it was still New York.
Footsteps approached, and he turned to his left slightly to see a petite yet authoritative looking woman advancing towards him. In her hands she held a coffee and a pastry. When she spoke, it was with a heavy accent that he couldn't quite place. "Can I help you?"
"I hope so, because I've got no idea what the hell is going on."
She smiled as if she realised something. "You must be Paul's referral. He said you'd drop by to make an appointment."
She'd been expecting him? Obviously, she must have mistaken him for someone else. She must have. "Can you tell me what I'm doing here?"
Clucking her tongue, she shook her head. "Let's get to know each other a bit before we tackle the big questions, okay?"
That was a big question? Obviously this woman had never met Diane Russell...
*
"I'm going to give you a word, and I want you to tell me the first word that comes to mind."
Denby sat carefully, on the edge of the couch. Word-association. That was something he could do. "Okay."
"Home."
"Warm."
"Coward."
"Dad."
"Wedding."
"Fantasy."
"Dead."
"Don." He almost added 'eventually', but didn't.
"Sexual."
"Blanks."
"Love."
Love? Oh... "The anticipation as you raise the glass towards your mouth. The salivation as the arrrroma wafts up to your nose and - if only for a split second - you inhale the scent and enjoy it. The tenderness of the edge of the glass as it rests on your bottom lip, then - as you move the glass up - the pressure from the sides of the glass against your upper lip. Your head tips back, your oesophagus quivers, the contents come tumbling out and then - oh - then burn their way deliciously down into your stomach. Heating your very centre as if it had been warmed by the fires of hell."
Pausing, she lowered the pad she was holding and scrutinised him closely.
He cleared his throat. "That was more than one word, wasn't it?"
*
"I think you're still holding back!" She exclaimed.
Denby had finally moved until he was lying on the couch, but at her words he quickly stood up and moved towards her. Kneeling down, he grabbed either side of her chair. "Doc, I met this fascinating woman and I'm absolutely enamoured with her. The thing is..." He hesitated.
"Come on, say it," She encouraged. "Say it!"
He did. "I'm not sure whether I wanna love her...or belittle her."
"Oh."
Moving away, he stood up again and began to pace. "You see it's so easy to get under her skin! With the right words I can piss her off in under a second, but I also know that with the right words I could make her laugh, make her smile with absolute happiness...but I don't."
Nodding, the Doctor spoke. "And you're punishing yourself."
"Oh, I should. You should hear some of the things I've said to her. But that wasn't me, I guess. That was the alcohol. Or maybe it was me..." Falling to his knees once more, he stared up at her. "Doc, I wanna change! Can't the lion cuddle up with the lamb? Actually, can't the lion do a bit more than cuddle up with the lamb? Can't the leopard rub out all its spots?"
*
The Doctor called an end to their session. Denby couldn't believe it. Just as he was making progress, just as he was...
"Here's a list of reading materials I strongly recommend." Practically thrusting the paper into his hands, she shoved him towards the door. "I also strongly recommend that you start attending AA meetings. Come back next week, hmm?"
Next week? But if the plans went the way they should... "I don't even know if I'll be here next week," He told her, bracing his hands on the sides of the doorway.
She tutted. "No, no, no, no. You're not going to intimidate me with suicide threats."
Denby managed to move his hands away just in time as the door slammed on his face and-
He woke up. Jumping, shivering, he yelled as he returned to consciousness violently, heart pounding.
"Shit," Denby muttered, although he was relieved to realise that he had actually woken up on his bed, in his apartment, and not on the ground of some alleyway in the trash.
Shaking his head he settled back down, and as he turned over and tried to get back to sleep, he vowed to himself that he would never, ever, watch anything on NBC ever again.
~FINIS