Obligatory Disclaimer: I don't own a damn thing. All belongs to that golden god, Silvio Horta and ABC.

A/N: Aloha, all. This is a response to a challenge from impishdragon over at the Bachelor and the Butterfly community on livejournal. I know, I know, I already have a million WIPs started over here, but I couldn't pass this one up. No grand plan as of yet, just a general idea—I'm mostly following the muse blindly.

The challenge terms were pretty simple. Daniel somehow becomes addicted to Betty via the five senses. So here goes…

Ch. 1: Smell

I smell the smelly smell of something that is smelly…

Daniel glanced at the bottle of uber-funky prescription(ish) pills dubiously. They kind of looked like Altoids, actually, which would help keep his battle with his penis on the down-low. So to speak.

Tyler (aka Dr. Feelgood) had assured him these things would work, and work they did—the all-around batshit insanity was just a side-effect, he guessed. Betty, for her part, had been shooting him worried frowns all day, especially on the elevator, since his happy pills had led him to a newfound cluelessness regarding personal space. Alexis had quizzically pointed out to him he had Betty squished into a corner of the otherwise empty elevator. Daniel had responded by pointing out that Alexis rather large, man-ish hands that appeared to be "multicolored and dancing" in front of his face. Alexis had exited the elevator in a confused huff.

That was when Daniel had turned his attention to Betty and started to smell her.

In dire need of oxygen, Betty had initially thought that Daniel was just playing around and being, well, Daniel by trapping her in the corner. But it was when he never once looked back to gauge her reaction that she became scared. Also, there was the issue of his butt rubbing up against her. It was as nice as everyone said it was, but that wasn't the point.

When he finally had turned to look at her, he'd braced both his hands over her head on the wall of the elevator, lowered his nose to her hair, and took a deep whiff. He only paused to loosen his tie and then resumed his unauthorized olfactory exploration.

"Ha, ha. Very funny, joke's on me, I'm the apparently very fragrant idiot here. You can stop now Daniel."

He didn't. If anything, he ventured further down, into the softness behind her earlobe, the perfect slope where her neck met her shoulder, and finally….WHOA. Onward to cleavage, ho!

Enough was enough. Betty had to stop this before she wound up pregnant with the next Meade heir. She gave him a shove. It was about as effective as a diaphragm in Marc's man-purse. Daniel was built rock-solid, and she hadn't been trying to hurt him the first go-round anyway.

That is, until the elevator doors opened and a bevy of models trouped in. Betty realized that they had become office gossip fodder as soon as they caught sight of Daniel and Betty apparently macking in the corner. It would have been well-nigh impossible, not to mention useless, to even try to play it off now. So Betty settled for hoping that he would turn his nose to the models, who were doubtless wearing perfume more to Daniel's taste—perfume more expensive than her house, in other words.

"Look, lookie there, Daniel! Long legs. Big boooobs! I'll bet some of them are even real! That red-head's checking out your butt. They're all stripping down naked! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD STOP SMELLING ME!!!"

But, no.

Daniel spoke, the first words she'd heard out of him all day. "Betty…what are you wearing?"

"What?" At least he hadn't asked her the color of her panties.

"Your perfume. Your…scent. What's it called? I swear to God, I'm going to bottle it and sell it and put it on one of those little fold-out scratch-and-sniff things that's on every other page of Mode. Chicks dig that. I dig that." He finally rested his sweaty forehead against hers.

"I'm not wearing any perfume…Daniel, what's wrong with you?" She put her hand on his cheek and stroked gently. He responded by capturing her thumb gently between his teeth and sucking gently. She could see the models behind her practically screaming with envy.

Betty dislodged her hand, away from the pleasurable, endearingly needy and infant-like sensation. "Nuh-uh, none of that, Mr. Crazy. Daniel, can you do something for me?"

Heavy lids closed over feverish blue eyes for a moment, and he nodded.

"I need you to let me move. Come on, sweetie," she said gently, urgently. Daniel, to her surprise, staggered backwards. When he saw her small, scrunched-up form in the light let in by his vacating body, he seemed to mostly snap out of his daze.

Remorse filled his face. He wrapped his arms around himself. "Oh, God, Betty, I…I'm sorry, I don't know what's happening to me…"

Betty pushed aside the cooing models and rubbed his shoulder. "Let's just get you something to eat, okay?"

Leaving the elevator, her arm entwined through Daniel's, Betty discreetly smelled herself.

Each chappie will be a different sense…please tell me what you think of this one!