Work Text:
The New Therapist
by: Mr. Denny Crane's Ghostwriter
Alan walked the few paces from the double doors across the terrace to his chair and seated himself comfortably. Denny was already there, puffing away on his cigar. Alan's smoke rose into the air and mingled with Denny's, the tendrils caressing one another before joining and then being taken away into the night.
He cleared his throat. Best not to be thinking about anything of Denny's caressing or joining anything of his.
"Denny," he said, by way of pushing those thoughts to the furthest recesses of his mind, "tell me, have you found a new therapist yet?"
"Hm? Oh, yes, yes. Fantastic man. Fantastic."
"Well. You seem taken with him."
"Do I?"
"He must be a good therapist. Better than Sydney." Alan took another long drag off his cigar. "Though I'd wager anybody would be better than Sydney."
"You got that right. I don't have to worry about this one shooting me."
He picked up the glass of Scotch and took a couple of drinks. "So what is it that's so great about your new therapist?"
Denny looked over at him. "Well, for one thing, he actually likes my stories."
"That's quite an accomplishment."
"For another, he actually gives me honest advice."
"Honest?"
"Sometimes too honest," Denny replied. "But I like that. No bullshit."
"Yes. Life's far too short to wade around in bullshit."
"You know another thing I like about him?" Alan turned his face to him, eyebrows raised in expectation. "He doesn't mind that I say it all the time."
"Denny Crane?"
"Denny Crane."
"He almost sounds too good to be true."
"That's what I keep thinking, but he's the genuine article."
"Does he also charge $600 an hour?"
"No, actually, that's the thing. He's free!"
"You're kidding. How did you find him?"
"I didn't. He found me."
Their smoke continued to rise. Continued to caress. Continued to join. Alan cleared his throat again. "So, when does your wife get to meet your mistress?"
"You already know him," Denny said, eyes locked on some invisible point on the wall.
Once again with eyebrows raised, Alan asked, "Really?"
"Yep," Denny nodded, rising to his feet.
"What's his name?"
Denny looked at him without fully turning, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Alan Shore."
"I don't need to hear my name, Denny, I'm not you. What's your therapist's name?"
"Alan Shore."
Alan's brow knitted as he, too, rose to his feet. "Denny, you're getting on my nerves."
"What, I'm just answering your question."
"No, you're not, you're saying my nâ€"" Alan stopped. He thought. His frown deepened. He swished the Scotch around in the glass before finishing it and depositing the glass on the table. Denny watched his back expectantly.
When Alan finally turned toward him, he had that devil-may-care mischievous look that sent a thrill through Denny Crane. "So...does this new therapist of yours make you...lie down on the couch?"
"Hasn't yet. Actually, he makes me lie down in bed."
"Has he touched you yet?" Alan asked, advancing on his prey.
Denny backed into the wall, clumsily setting the unfinished glass of Scotch atop it. "Yes. But only when he's asleep, and it's never inappropriate."
"I should hope not," Alan pouted, shaking his head and clucking his tongue. "Tsk, tsk, tsk, doctors fondling their patients."
"I never said he was a doctor."
"Uh-huh," Alan grinned, hands rising on either side of Denny's arms, flat against the top of the wall behind him. He had Denny pinned, and they both knew it. "Does this new therapist only handle head cases, or does he handle head cases as well?"
Denny gulped. "Don't know, but I...suspect he...would handle...either." Denny's chest rose and fell, heaving into Alan's as the younger man pressed full-body into him.
"Only one more question."
Denny nodded, completely mute.
"Would you fire him if he tried to take advantage of you?"
Denny narrowed his eyes. "I'd fire him if he tried to take advantage of me out here, yes."
Alan's smile morphed slowly into an all-out grin. "Then I suggest we move to a couch."
"Or a bed."
Alan arched an eyebrow. "Why, Denny, are you encouraging an illicit sexual encounter with your psychotherapist?"
"You seem surprised," Denny replied as he ducked out from under Alan's arms and headed for the doors.
Alan chuckled and shook his head. This was Denny Crane. He knew he shouldn't be surprised by anything.
"Coming, Dr. Shore?" Denny called from inside.
"With any luck!" Alan yelled back.
As he followed Denny into the office, he straightened his jacket and tie. "I think I'm going to like being a therapist."
end