Your Eyes Look Like Coming Home
frank langdon x mel king. kingdon oneshot. this is a LONGGG one so get comfy hehehe. rated mature but not for smut (sexual references only, and a kiss scene) slow burn, set right after season 2 ends. basically july-november in pitt universe. angst with a happy ending, frank gets divorced, becca is a kingdon SHOOTER! mel’s pov. langdon uses petnames. jealous!langdon, possessive!langdon. brief jealous!mel if u squint. [11.5k words]
There are three bets circulating the ER that month. One: how many weeks before Abbot realizes his leftover Stroganoff is actively growing mold. Two: the likelihood of Santos stabbing Garcia in the foot again after the recent announcement of her new relationship. And three: how long until Melissa King sees that Frank Langdon is no longer wearing his wedding ring.
That area of the board is tapered with dozens of sticky notes and wads of cash so big Ahmad had to buy another whiteboard.
Melissa King likes to think of herself as an optimist. She wakes up every morning at five thirty to watch the sunrise, she enjoys the peace that the early morning brings her, she especially loves when the sky is colored with orange and purple looking like an artist has taken a paint brush to the clouds. She likes to wake Becca up (when she’s not at her facility, of course) with some sort of fun fact that she knows will interest her sister to get a smile or a laugh out of her. She loves when the hot water in the bathroom doesn’t take long to warm up, and when her scrubs are still warm in the dryer from the load of laundry she put in the night before. She loves when she comes home from work to find out that yes, she did take the chicken out of the freezer, and yes, she does have a bag of broccoli to go alongside it. She loves it when Becca is home, and she loves it when she has the house to herself, even if it gets lonely occasionally.
She’s not really sure if any of that makes her an optimist or just someone who enjoys the simple things, but one thing is for certain: she remains realistic with things like these. She reminds herself that the tea she gets on the way to work will not always be perfect and to her preference, sometimes it isn’t as warm as she’d like it to be. She never requests another drink. She reminds herself that the annoying weather of early springtime will either have her freezing in the morning or able to walk outside of her apartment in shorts and a t-shirt. She knows that not every morning will have a perfect sunrise, sometimes the sky is murky and grey, but sometimes it is beautiful. There is balance. Mel likes balance. And she especially likes to remind herself that the man she is deeply in love with is, in fact, married.
How is that for optimism?
***
Mel wakes up every morning to the beeping sound of her alarm clock, it isn’t loud or jolting, just repetitive enough to fully shake her from her sleep. It’s the call of a barn swallow, a kind of bird that her mother always sketched. The type of bird that symbolized hope and happiness, and though Mel didn’t necessarily consider herself the superstitious type, she did always feel closer to her mom once stirred from her slumber, like she was still there, hand on Mel’s face and whispering for her to get up.
She always struggles not to feel disappointed when she wakes to a dark room, her alarm sounding from her nightstand, and her mother nowhere to be seen. Mel exhales, reaches to switch the alarm off and stares at the ceiling before grabbing her glasses from the nightstand. Her apartment is eerily quiet, it usually is this early, but extra that day since Becca is at her facility for an overnight weekend, something she had requested due to Adam staying.
Mel tries her best not to bristle, it’s only been a week since the worst day of her life. Maybe she’s being dramatic, she’s certainly had worse days. The car wreck that killed their parents, that definitely took the cake. But the day that Becca came into the hospital, revealed her secret relationship and ditched her to watch the fireworks with her boyfriend still managed to come close. And that was excluding the deposition.
Mel’s morning routine is simple. She always brushes her teeth first, she can’t stand the feeling of the taste in her mouth from sleep. She flosses, washes her face, braids her hair, and goes to her balcony to watch the sunrise. It’s hot that morning already, mid-July in Pennsylvania. She isn’t surprised, but she can already feel the humidity applying itself and sticking to her skin.
Her balcony is her favorite part of her apartment, it’s covered, which means she’s strung fairy lights from one side to the next, her furniture is wicker with soft orange cushions, she even has a table dedicated to her outdoor plants. Plants that she’s forgotten to water, she quickly heads inside, leaving the slider door open while she fills the jug up with water.
Once she’s satisfied they aren’t going to dry out and die on her, Mel sits herself on one of the chairs, pulling her legs and crossing them. The sun has already started to change the color of the sky, a light pink that morning. Mel takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, and basks in it.
It isn’t long before she’s changing into her scrubs, a purple undershirt that she thinks is actually Becca’s, her usual black scrubs over it. She checks her braid once more and then heads out the door. Her apartment is within the same strip of a coffee shop she loves, and she’s immediately welcomed with a series of hellos.
Mel smiles. The attention is still a little off-putting for her, but she’s learned to deal with it. Her favorite barista is behind the counter, offering her a big smile. “Morning, Mel,” she greets. “Your usual?”
“Yes, please,” Mel answers. They usually get busy right after she gets there, so Mel always makes sure to slip a good tip into the jar once her tea is called out, waving goodbye to anyone who offers her a farewell, and ducks out of the shop.
The walk to the bus stop always takes the longest. It’s ten minutes from her apartment, which in hindsight, isn’t very long, but when it’s snowing or overwhelmingly hot like it is that day, it feels like forever. Lucky for Mel, she’s so insanely punctual and on schedule the bus usually arrives a minute after she gets to the waiting area.
She sips her tea as she pulls out her airpods, the familiar comfort of them in her ear is already enough to ease the chaos around her, tuning out the world and its ability to make her hands clammy, and eliminating the anxiety that usually consumes her. She hates public spaces like this, it’s some sort of wormhole that she thrives so well in the work she does.
Her by Megan Thee Stallion is the first song that plays, Mel doesn’t bump her head or make any physical indications that she enjoys it, but her shoulders relax ever-so-slightly.
As she walks into the Pitt, she’s relieved she isn’t immediately pulled into a case, giving her zero time for preparation. Instead, the ER actually looks quite calm. She can’t say it’s been like this consistently since Al-Hashimi took over for Robby, but there is a noticeable difference in their leadership.
“Good morning, Mel,” Al-Hashimi greets her with a warm smile, she has her curls pulled into a bun on her head that day, Mel thinks it looks very cute.
“Good morning,” Mel answers, politely.
“I’m going to have you start in triage just to relieve Doctor Ellis.”
“Okay,” she nods. Everyone hates triage—Mel actually enjoys it. She thinks it’s a good balance, from emergencies that involve fast thinking and constant vigilance, triage is a nice pace change for when things get too overwhelming. It could get tricky fast, she wasn’t dismissing that, but typically triage was more on the calm side. Which, she believes, is a good way to start her morning.
She spots Trinity entering, who offers her a wave and a tired smile that Mel is sure she returns. Her first round of patients is typical for early morning, returning patients from previous operations coming for a check-up, she has a case of chlamydia and another STD case right after, which she finds kind of strange.
It isn’t until seven-thirty that she firsts sees Doctor Langdon, who approaches her at the nurses station while she briefly updates a chart.
“Hey, Mel,” he says, casually.
Mel feels herself brighten almost immediately. “Hi, Dr. Langdon.”
“Al-Hashimi has you on triage?”
“Yeah.” She shrugs. “I don’t mind it, really. It’s steady enough.”
“Can’t stand triage,” Langdon muses, stretching his back a little. Mel catches a glimpse of his skin, the brief lift of his shirt that reveals his lower stomach and immediately makes her turn her head away, like she’s just broken some kind of law.
“I know,” Mel says with a small nod. “You thrive in fast-paced environments.” She squints at him. “You probably do actually have ADHD.”
It’s a call-back from one of their recent conversations, another one that had taken place in the ambulance bay post-shift, how he couldn’t stand still, always needed to be busy. He’d cracked a joke about having it, but Mel had seriously considered it.
“Yeah,” Langdon agrees. “Actually, I got tested for it when I was seven. Didn’t really see it until I saw the same behaviors in Tanner.”
Mel purses her lips. “It is genetic,” she offers. “That would make sense.”
Langdon laughs like she’s said something funny, Mel doesn’t recall making a joke. Still, the sound makes her heart flutter and she feels like she’s just succeeded in performing brain-surgery, the way she soars after she makes him laugh.
“In any case,” he clicks the pen he’s holding, Mel’s gaze flickers to his hand. “I hope Al-Hashimi moves you back here, the ED isn’t as fun if you’re not in the chaos with me.”
She feels like she’s been knocked breathless. Thankfully, she manages to keep it together. “I could say the same for you.”
Langdon’s smile makes his eyes crinkle at the corners, Mel remains standing there like an idiot as he turns to go, called into trauma one and she has to physically shake herself before she heads back out to triage. Behind her, Ahmed stands at the door of his security office, that smirk on his face whenever he is clearly plotting something, and he moves to update the whiteboard.
Mel doesn’t see this, of course, and it probably wouldn’t matter even if she did—because if she can’t notice the lack of a gold ring on Langdon’s hand while it’s right in front of her, how could she see that the next betting board is about just that very thing?
***
Mel switches with Javadi halfway through the shift, something about her mother driving her insane with frequent visits and wanting to hide away in triage. Mel doesn’t argue, especially if it means she can finally get some action. And working alongside Doctor Langdon is a plus. Not that he had anything to do with her answer, definitely not.
She’s in south 11, talking to a young girl and just about ready to discharge her when someone from trauma yells.
“I need hands!”
“Excuse me,” Mel says quickly, rushing out and jogging across the department to stand alongside Santos. “What do we have?”
“He’s crashing. BP was fine, I ordered an EPI. He was fine.”
As Perlah holds the patient as he seizes, Mel feels his lower abdomen while Santos bolts around Jesse, moving to grab the AED. As Mel’s hands work, the tightness of the patient’s stomach makes her brows furrow. “Cancel AED,” Mel orders.
Santos freezes. “What? He’s-”
“He needs more fluids,” Mel says, not meaning to cut her off but needing her to hear. “There’s a patch in his intestines. Test him for cryptosporidiosis, there’s a bacteria wall in his abdomen. Flush it out, his heart rate is stable.”
“Got it,” Perlah says, attaching another IV while Santos stares at her, dumbfounded. Immediately, the seizing slows, he lies back normally and Mel watches the screen cautiously.
“Order an x-ray and an ultrasound,” Mel instructs. “If we can locate where it’s built up exactly we can stop him from crashing again.”
Santos swallows, thickly. “Yeah, yeah. Thanks. Nice catch.”
Mel is out of the door, changing her gloves when Al-Hashimi signals for her to join them in trauma 2, a thrashing boy who is yelling a confounding amount of swears.
“Alright, somebody sedate this kid,” Langdon announces as he steps into the room, brushing against Mel and she has to physically stop herself from jerking. “Christ.”
“Mr Jones, if you keep smacking away our workers we will not be able to help you,” Al-Hashimi says, calmly. It goes unnoticed. She exhales, glancing to Mel. “Dr. King, two milligrams of ketamine, please.”
Mel does as she’s asked, pushing it through the IV and it only takes a minute for Jones to stop kicking and swatting. Langdon is the first one to check him, lifting his shirt. “Stab wound,” he informs immediately.
“Any internal bleeding?” Al-Hashimi asks.
“Not from what I can tell,” Langdon answers. Mel steps beside him, squinting behind her glasses as she pulls on another set of gloves, reaching her fingers into the gash. “Negative. Thanks, Mel.”
“I’ll order antibiotics and a tetanus shot,” she says, and Al-Hashimi nods. “Absorbable stitches will be fine, what do you think, Doctor Langdon?”
“I agree,” he says. “Cut isn’t that big.”
Donnie moves the tray of materials over to them, Mel grabs the forcep from the cart, handing it to Langdon. “PDS?”
She watches the way his eyes narrow, focusing in as he moves the wire between the skin, delicately. “Precisely,” Langdon says. “Need a 4 millimeter.”
“Here,” Mel is quick to hand it to him. She takes his former needle and places it back on the tray. She keeps her hands turned out, but her gaze doesn’t waver from him or the patient, specifically the way Langdon’s jaw clenches in concentration, the slight poke of his tongue between his lips.
“What is the length for cutting a suture, Dr. King?”
“Five to six millimeters,” Mel answers, a creature of habit. Then, she frowns. “Did you just quiz me?”
Langdon’s lip quirks, he snips the wire and turns to face her. “Got to keep you on your toes.”
Mel accepts the forcep, placing it on the tray and Donnie snorts as he wheels it away. Mel switches her gloves out, shooting Langdon a look. “I’m an R3 in a month, Dr. Langdon.” She doesn’t know why she’s offended, it’s good to be reminded of random facts when it comes to the medical field. But having it come from him—someone she regards highly already, stings.
He blinks at her, as if just realizing for the first time what he’d asked, and that he’d upset her. “I know. Yeah, I know,” Langdon shook his head, standing and throwing out his gloves. “Sorry, Mel.”
“It’s fine,” she says, but she can still feel that she’s frowning. Mel raises her chin to him, almost defiantly as he comes to stand in front of her, just as Jones is rolled out of the trauma room. “What is the difference between a poliglecaprone and polydioxanone stitch?”
Langdon’s brows raise, hidden by his loose strands of hair that are falling onto his forehead. “Wow. Uh, poliglecaprone is to close a wound invisibly. Polydioxanone is for soft tissue repair.” He makes a face at her. Mel is satisfied by his reaction. “Is this you getting back at me?”
“No,” Mel replies simply. She feels her mouth turn up as she moves to leave. Over her shoulder, she says: “Just keeping you on your toes.”
He remains standing there, grinning at her retreating figure, until finally he shakes his head and rubs the hand sanitizer between his hands, walking to the nurses station to pick up his next patient. Mel is probably too giddy, feeling like she’s just won an award, but really all she did was give him a taste of his own medicine. She can’t understand why her heart is racing.
“Hey, south 11 is looking for you, kid,” Dana tells her.
Mel’s face pales. “Shoot,” she blurts. “Um, okay. Be right there!”
It slows after that, Mel gets the chance to call Becca in the ambulance bay, listening about her time with Adam and how she was going to his parents' house for dinner. Mel tries her very best to keep the smile looking genuine on her face.
“I want you to meet him soon,” Becca says, pushing her glasses up on her nose.
“Okay,” Mel answers. “I’d like that.”
“You should get a boyfriend, too. That way we could have dinner at home. Like a double date.”
“Right,” Mel says. “I’ll get right on that.”
She lets Becca ramble on about her pottery class for another minute before Mel feels a tug on her braid, and she turns to see Langdon standing there, grinning at her handsomely and making her short circuit.
“Hi, Dr. Langdon!” Becca greets excitedly from the FaceTime call. Langdon waves at her, smile turning less boyish and more polite. “I was just telling Mel about my dinner plans with Adam.”
“Oh, nice, Becca,” he nods. “What are you guys having?”
“Not sure,” Becca makes a face. Mel is stuck glancing between her sister and him. She feels cornered, oddly. Like her personal space is being filled, not because he’s physically standing so close, but because the conversation is about boyfriends and she can tell Becca is moments away from blurting out that Mel is still, in fact, single. Her sister isn’t stupid, Mel is sure she’s picked up on the admiration she holds for Langdon.
Clearly.
I see why you like him, Becca had said. Oh, gosh. She could have died from humiliation that day, burning up in the hospital room and feeling Langdon’s gaze boring into her.
“Spaghetti, I think,” Becca says, forcing Mel back into reality. “Hope they have garlic bread.”
“I love garlic bread,” Langdon offers. “The Shoprite on Yellow Grove has the best-”
“That’s where Mel gets ours!”
“Yeah,” Mel says, half-heartedly. She tries shooting Becca a subtle warning look, but it’s incredibly difficult with Langdon right at her shoulder. “Hey, Becca. We have to get back to work. l’ll call you later, okay?”
“Okay,” she replies cheerfully. “Bye Mel. Bye Dr. Langdon.”
“Bye, Becca,” he shoots her another smile, and Mel hangs up quickly. She turns to face him, brows raised. He blinks at her. “What?”
“Nothing,” Mel tells him. “You pulled my hair.”
Langdon snorts. “Oh, please. Your braid is still intact. If that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Hm,” she scrunches her nose at him. She tries not to notice how his entire face softens at that. “I guess we should head back inside.”
“Yeah. Duty calls. After you, Mel.”
She smiles at him, then steps through the sliding doors, feeling him hot on her tail.
***
Mel has the next day off, she spends it doing laundry and stocking up on all of Becca’s favorite baked goods from the bakery down the block. She’s very picky, only likes sweet things that have a cake texture, and the icing can only be buttercream otherwise she will not eat it. She doesn’t like candy bars or cookies, which is good for Mel who loves all of those things and doesn’t have to share.
Not like she’d mind, but still.
She’s busy folding a blanket she threw in with her lights when her phone goes off. It pauses her music, which irritates her and she reminds herself to turn that function off. Still, Mel grabs her phone to see that it’s Trinity who texted her.
hey, you’ll never guess who just came up on my instagram
Who? Mel types back
that guy who asked for your number at karaoke
Oh, wow
should i follow him for u? get some details
If you want. I'm not really interested.
mel, u need to get out more. i’m doing this
Okay. Don’t tell him anything embarrassing.
psh like what
that you carry around a tide-stick and four different kinds of chapsticks and bite off your nails and can’t cook chicken for the life of you?
Yeah. Like all of that. Thanks.
Mel resumes folding her clothes after, neatly putting them away and settles onto the couch once she’s done. Her living room has the soft glow of a lamp from next to her, a vanilla scented candle lit on the coffee table as she turns on the television. She finds it hard to get into movies or shows, new ones at least, so she puts on a rerun of Gossip Girl and resigns to her phone for the rest of the evening.
She walks to Becca’s facility the next morning, she always likes picking her up early. There was a great bagel shop the both of them loved, and Mel’s favorite part of her weekend was getting breakfast with her sister. Becca is chatty as they make their way through the busy streets of Pittsburgh, even as they eat their bagel sandwiches.
Once they’re back in the apartment, Becca resides to her bedroom and Mel tries out a new recipe in the crockpot for dinner. She can’t deny that she’s bored, without work to keep her busy she often falls flat on things to do. She tries not to dwell on it, but having a boyfriend might cure her of the boredom. But she shouldn’t date someone just because she’s bored. Or was that how all relationships started? She doesn’t know, really. All she knows is that when the day comes, she wants that person to get her. To truly understand her, how she likes her tea, how the texture of bananas drove her insane even though she loved how they tasted, she wants them to accept that she and Becca are a packaged deal, she needs them to understand that she’s unavailable basically sixty hours out of the week due to her profession. There is a lot this future partner of hers will have to endure. They can’t just be anyone.
When Mel goes to sleep that night, her last want is that they’ll take care of her. It’s a feeling she pushes to the side quite frequently, because Mel has been needed her entire life, she’s never had the chance to shut her brain off and she’s never been put in a position where someone would want to do that. To care for her. Mel doesn’t regret any of it, she loves Becca, but sometimes she needs someone, too. Even if that admission was buried deep, deep down in her and only rose to the surface when she was falling asleep.
Mel’s next shift is chaotic, she’s pulled left and right and sometimes upside down. She gets yanked roughly on the wrist by an agitated patient, Dana is the one who saves her. She thinks it would have been Langdon, if he’d been working that day. She has two patients die on her that day, neither her fault but sticking with her regardless.
When she clocks in the following day, Santos approaches her with a set jaw. “Can you fucking believe it?” She demands. “Garcia is seeing someone else.”
“Oh,” Mel’s mouth parts. “Oh, no. Trinity, that’s awful. I’m so sorry.”
Santos fumes for the rest of the day. Mel tries not to listen to the different kinds of bets that pass through the nurses, like the chances of her stabbing Garcia in the foot again.
“What’s wrong with her?” Langdon asks her on hour seven.
Mel shrugs. “Woman problems. Not like.. like, I meant love-life women problems. Not..”
“I got it, Mel,” Langdon snorts, bracing his arms on the counter. “I’m quite familiar with the concept.”
She frowns at that. “You.. are?”
He looks at her like she’s grown three heads. Mel stares at him expectedly in return, but Dana shouts for them before he gets the chance to answer.
That evening at her locker, Santos is still ranting about Garcia (how could she do this to me, no wonder she’s been so distant, I should have known better) and Mel listens carefully, not interjecting and letting her ramble.
“Oh, by the way,” Santos adds, closing her locker shut. Mel hears footsteps approaching behind them, but she doesn’t turn. “Ryan followed me back. He said you never texted him.” She gives Mel a pointed look. “Get on that. Night.”
“Um, night,” Mel calls after her, one hand still in her locker and on her house keys.
“Who is Ryan?” Langdon’s voice asks from behind, and Mel jumps, whirling to face him.
“Oh! Hi. Um, Trinity and I went out a few weeks ago. I met him at the karaoke bar. He gave me his number.”
Langdon opens his locker, his knuckles white as he pulls open the door. “Yeah?” He asks, nonchalantly. “What, not interested?”
“No, no. It’s not that. He’s nice.”
Langdon regards her warily. “Santos said you haven’t texted him. Not that I was eavesdropping,” he adds. “I was waiting to get into my locker.”
“Yes, well, um.. I just can’t really read his handwriting, is all. The numbers kind of blurred together on the napkin.”
“Ah,” he hums. “Shame.”
He doesn’t sound upset for her at all though, really.
“I guess,” she shrugs. “Anyway, I have to get going before I miss the bus. I’ll see you tomorrow, Doctor Langdon.”
“Woah, wait a sec,” he holds out a hand, brows furrowing. “You take the bus?”
“Yes.”
“No way, the bus stop is like a ten minute walk and it’s storming, Mel.”
“I know that. But the bus stop is covered, so it’s really-”
“I’ll drive you,” he interrupts her.
Mel falls quiet, her eyes wide. “You- that’s- You don’t have to. That is unnecessary. I’ve walked to the bus stop in worse conditions.”
“Mel, seriously.”
“Doctor Langdon, seriously.”
His eyes brighten a little at her tone. “I don’t mind. And you’d be doing me a favor, really. I want to delay going home as much as I possibly can.”
“What?” her brows scrunch. “Why?”
“That’s hardly relevant,” Langdon waves her off. “Cmon, Mel. You’ve been there for me recently. You’ve talked me down so many times I’m starting to lose count. Let me help you.”
Mel contemplates it, then pushes her bottom lip out. “Fine,” she accepts defeat. “But just this once. And I’ll give you gas money.”
“Fat chance,” he says, immediately, closing his locker and swinging his bag over his shoulder. “Cmon. Just don’t judge the dad van.”
Mel actually laughs at that. “I think that is the most surprising thing about you.”
“Yeah, well,” he shrugs. “I had this sexy little BMW, but wasn’t really good to drive the kids around in. Especially since Penny cries so easily. Anyway,” Langdon points a single finger at her, holding the door open as she steps into the rainy night. “No judgement, Mel.”
Mel smiles. “Don’t worry,” she assures him. “I would never.”
At their backs, several heads are peeking down the hallway.
“Anyone bet on July twentieth?” Ahmed asks no one in particular—nurse Chloe raises her hand. He gives her a wink. “I think you’re about to win.”
“The hell are you talking about?” Abbot asks, squinting at the security guard.
“Oh, nothing,” Ahmed replies, casually. Abbot is, unsurprisingly, not convinced, but shrugs and moves along anyway.
“His stroganoff is still in the fridge,” Mateo muses, arms crossed over his chest. Ahmed only snorts.
***
Unsurprisingly, Langdon starts to drive Mel home after every shift they work together. She’s against it at first, denies it when he offers and tells him it’s really not necessary, but he always insists. And it was getting increasingly difficult to tell him no.
Carpooling becomes their new regular, it’s never awkward, and he always lets her pick the music. Most of the time, they talk about work and the cases they dealt with, sometimes he brings up Becca, and even rarer, he brings up his family. Work was safe, talking about it. That crossed no lines, despite how every time she climbed into his passenger seat it felt like she was breaking several kinds of rules. Rules she made up in her head, but clearly he follows them, too, because the conversation always stays light.
Except for tonight. August ninth is the day Mel thinks the lines start to really blur. He is quiet as they walk out into the parking lot, he offers her no kinds of jokes and Mel doesn’t quite know what to say or do as she opens the passenger side door and buckles up.
He sits behind the wheel, bracing his arms on it and rubbing at his eyes. Finally, she asks, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” he exhales, slowly. His voice sounds rough, like he’s been chewing glass. “Not looking forward to going home.”
Mel thinks it’s the wrong thing to say. She says it, anyway. “Are you ever?”
Somehow, much to her disbelief, he laughs. “True.”
“Did..” Mel hesitates. “Did something happen?”
He pushes his palms deeper into his eyes. “Don’t worry about it, Mel. I’ve burdened you enough already.”
“You aren’t a burden, Dr. Langdon,” she says, immediately. “Really. I mean, that’s what friends do, right? Talk about what’s bothering them?”
He peeks at her through his fingers. “Yeah,” he says, straightening. “Yeah, I guess.”
“And you drive me home almost every night, so really, I’m the one burdening you.”
“Hardly, Mel,” he shakes his head. “I like having you around. Your company is nice.”
“Thanks,” she says, because she doesn’t really know how to reply to that. “So is yours. And I told you, no judgment. Remember?”
“I remember,” Langdon confirms. “Just..”
He says nothing for a moment, Mel watches him. “Just?”
“Abby and I got into a big fight before I left for work this morning, is all,” he finally murmurs. Mel frowns. “Not like it’s anything out of the ordinary, but Christ. It gets old, you know? Ever since I got back from rehab it’s like nothing I do is good enough for her. Or it’s done wrong, or I say something wrong.” He exhales. “See? Burden.”
“No,” Mel reaches for his arm, reassuringly. His gaze lingers on her hand before she pulls it away. “I just.. I don’t always say the right things, either. I’m not good at advice.”
“You don’t have to solve this for me, Mel.”
“I know,” she says, timidly. She actually didn’t know, so accustomed to fixing things that she forgot sometimes people only wanted to vent, not a solution. “But I am here to listen.”
“You’re a good listener,” he says. “I feel like we should even out this deal. Tell me something that’s bothering you.”
Mel gnaws at her lip. She doesn’t notice how Langdon shifts in his seat, suddenly. “Um..”
“If you want, I mean,” he says quickly. “Just so it doesn’t feel like I’m unleashing all of this deep shit on you.”
“You could drop a boat-load of problems on me, Dr. Langdon. I still wouldn’t care. Or leave. Or judge.”
Langdon stares at her. “Shit, Mel.”
She only smiles. “Um.. I guess the Adam and Becca thing bugs me still. I met him last week. He’s very nice. It’s just, like.. I don’t know. I’ve had to create my life around Becca and her needs. Especially after our parents died. But.. it’s like, I do all of this for her, and she lied to me. For six months. I don’t have a life, I stay home because I know she doesn’t like to be by herself. And I’m not blaming her, I love her. She’s my best friend. But I could never keep something like that from her. For that long, at least.”
“I get it,” he says, slowly.
“You do?”
“Yeah. Of course. You’ve structured your life around her, you take care of her. And you’ve done it all on your own. It makes sense that you feel betrayed.”
“I never told anyone that,” she admits.
“I’ve never told anyone the Abby stuff, either,” he shrugs. “Well, except for my therapist.” Mel cracks a smile. He smiles back. “It’s been rough. Between us, I mean. For a while, even before.. all this addiction stuff. I think rehab only solidified the problems.”
“I can imagine,” Mel says. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he replies. He looks at her for a moment. “Hey, do you want to grab something to eat? I feel like all of this.. trauma dumping will be better on a full stomach.”
Mel shrugs. “Yeah. Okay.”
And that was that.
Something had changed between them that night, though. When she saw him at work the next day, he always seemed to be closer. Near when she needed him, near when she didn’t. Mel had grown used to having him circle her, ever since she started at PTMC, but this was different. There was more brief grazing, like when he stepped behind her, or when he was handing her gloves his hands always lingered a second too long. Always intentional, but never planned, really. Like it just sort of happened, as if Mel was a piece of metal and Frank Langdon was a magnet. Like he couldn’t help himself.
Mel didn’t mind it. She thinks he’s the only person that could touch her without immediately feeling like she needed to go into defensive mode.
Currently, Mel was standing at the nurses station, reading the board when Santos approaches her, wearing a lopsided grin that Mel recently learned meant trouble.
“Guess what?”
“What?” Mel asks.
“Ryan is in triage.”
“Ryan?” she echoes. “Like, Ryan-Ryan? Karaoke Ryan?”
“Yep,” Santos elbows her. “I told him you’d work on him. Here, I’ll switch you before Al-Hashimi comes.”
“Um.. I’m not sure if-”
“Girl, go!” Santos pushes her away.
Mel awkwardly stumbles her way to triage, flattening her hair and adjusting her scrubs. At his workstation, Langdon’s fingers are frozen over the keyboard, his jaw clenched and breathing shallow. Mel doesn’t see him, too preoccupied with fixing her appearance.
She pulls back the curtain and offers Ryan a smile. “Hi,” she greets, hoping her voice doesn’t actually sound as shaky as it did to her.
“Mel,” he flashes her a smile. “Hi. When Trinity- I mean, Dr. Santos told me you were here I almost couldn’t believe it. It’s like fate brought us together.”
“Right,” Mel laughs, nervously. “Or you just sprained your wrist while skateboarding.”
“Tomato- tomatoe?”
“Sure,” she says, sitting onto the stool and taking his wrist into her hand. He flinches immediately. “Um, okay. I’ll order some x-rays. Good thing is it doesn’t look broken, so definitely just a fracture or a sprain. Let me page radiology, I’ll be right back, okay?”
“Thanks, doc,” he calls after her.
Mel returns to a workstation of her own, puts in the orders and goes to turn, just before bumping into Langdon. He steadies her, smirking. “Careful, Mel.”
“You’re the one who was standing so close,” she counters.
“Sorry,” he says, not sounding sorry at all. He reaches past her, and Mel stills as his arm braces behind her, pulling it back and revealing his phone. With his bicep right in her face, it’s impossible not to see how the muscles flex under his scrubs. “Forgot this.”
“Uh, yeah. Right.”
He gives her a look. “You okay?”
“I’m fine. Just, um.”
Mel knows she can tell him. They’ve had much deeper conversations in his car, but for some reason, sharing this feels.. strange. She doesn’t want him to think she’s interested in anyone else. Not that it matters.
Obviously.
“Yes?”
“That guy. From karaoke. He’s in triage.”
He does not seem surprised. He almost looks prepared. Mel awaits a reaction. “Okay,” he says. “Is he making you uncomfortable? I can take the case over if-”
“No, no. Not like that. It’s just awkward.”
“I doubt that, Mel,” but the way he says it makes her think he feels the opposite, his voice is low and she thinks it must have to do with the way his jaw is locked. “I’ll come and see.”
“Dr. Langdon, that’s not-”
“What room?”
She groans, exasperated, and leads him to the spot in triage Ryan is at. Mel steps into the room first, radiology is already there, scanning him. Behind her, Mel tries not to jump at the sudden contact of Langdon’s arm at her back. It isn’t like his normal quick and “accidental” brush, it stays there. He doesn’t move it when she looks at him, in fact, she feels his fingers tighten at the back of her shirt. If she didn’t know him so well, if she was blind to the fact that he was married, she would have said he was being possessive. Like he was marking her, claiming her so Ryan couldn’t. Mel tries not to shiver at the thought.
Ryan notices immediately, straightening in the chair just as the radiologists scoot out. “Mel,” he says, cheerfully. “Uh, is everything okay?”
“Yes,” Mel slips out of Langdon’s embrace. “This is Dr. Langdon. He’s the, um.. expert on reading x-rays. I like having a second set of eyes, just to be sure.”
“Thorough,” Ryan comments. “Hope you go through all this effort for your other patients and not just me. But I’m not opposed to special treatment.” He winks at her, Mel quickly averts her eyes.
“Dr. King doesn’t do special treatment,” Langdon says, sharply. He types at the portable computer by the doorway, where he still hasn’t stepped away from. “Don’t start feeling too significant.”
“Doctor Langdon,” she warns, lowly. She can’t place what is going on here, and even if she feels a flutter in her chest at his voice and the tone he’s using, she can’t believe he’d say something like that. “Can I have a word with you, actually?”
His voice returns to normal, flashing her a smile. “Sure, Mel.”
Mel shoots him a look on her way out, when Ryan can’t see her face. She’s pulling the curtain closed and putting her hands on her hips once they reach the hallway. He actually has the nerve to look amused. “What was that?”
“What was what?”
“The way you just talked to him!”
“I have no clue what you’re talking about, Mel,” Langdon shrugs, casually squeezing her shoulder and moving past her. “Let me know when his test results are back. Since I’m your second set of eyes, and all.”
Mel only glares at his back.
Frank Langdon, however, is completely oblivious to this as he slips away into the bathroom, turns the faucet on, and splashes the cold water onto his face. He takes a few minutes to steady himself, stares at his reflection in the mirror, and says: “Fuck.”
***
Mel is officially promoted to R3 on August 30th, it’s something she thinks the rest of her coworkers will forget. The only person, so far, and granted it is early, that congratulates her is Becca. Though that doesn’t really feel fair since they’re in the same apartment.
“Do you get more money?”
“Yep,” Mel answers. She keeps checking her phone like someone is going to text her. They don’t. “I think next paycheck.”
“We should go out to dinner,” Becca muses. “To celebrate.”
Mel gives her a knowing look. “You want to see Adam.”
“What?” Her sister blinks. “No, Mel. I meant just us. And your friends.”
Mel stares at her blank notification wall. She feels a flutter of disappointment that Langdon of all people hasn’t texted her. But it’s still early.
“Okay,” Mel says. “I’ll let you know by the end of my shift, how’s that?”
“Okay,” Becca shrugs. She glances around the kitchen. “Are we out of cereal?”
Mel sighs, quietly, then starts to rummage through the cabinets. Her morning routine is thrown off that day, she doesn’t get to watch the sunrise, she doesn’t even have time to braid her hair. Instead, she pulls it into a ponytail and hopes it won’t give her a headache.
She’s already mastered the act of hiding her disappointment, so when she walks into the Pitt and nobody says anything, she pushes through and enters the lounge to fill her water up.
“Good, you’re here,” Al-Hashimi follows after her. “Hi, sorry. Good morning, Mel. We have a situation in trauma two.”
“Be right there,” Mel tells her. She doesn’t know what she was expecting, though it’s technically a promotion it’s also really not. Yeah, she gets paid more, and yeah, she gets more responsibility, all of the parts of moving up, but it’s pretty typical in their line of work, so really, she shouldn’t be upset.
The work day drags by, especially without Langdon. She resists the urge to text him the entire day. Stupid, petty things like. Hey, did you forget? Did you forget about me? How dare you not remember what today is? You don’t really care, do you?
Mel is almost in a blind fit of rage, stupidly, by the time her shift ends, and it’s then she finally gets that fucking text. Only it’s not what she’s expecting at all.
Hey, I’m in the parking lot
She stares at the message for too long, probably. He’s never picked her up on his day off before. That is what he’s doing, isn’t it? Why else would he text her that?
Okay, she replies. I’m coming.
She spots his car immediately, and once he sees her approaching, in the rearview presumably, he climbs out. Mel barely manages to catch the sound of giggling from inside before Langdon presents her with a card.
“What’s this?” she asks.
“You’re an R3,” he says, like it’s obvious. “I got you a gift.”
Mel thinks she could cry, she has to try embarrassingly hard not to burst into tears and hug him. Carefully, she tears open the envelope to reveal a silly card that makes her lip quirk. When she opens it, a gift card falls out. It’s one to Hot Topic—not the clothing store—the coffee shop she goes to every morning. Mel doesn’t move, mouth parting.
“You- how-”
“Becca told me,” Langdon says, shrugging casually. Like he hasn’t just wrecked her entire world and made her feel like she was actually important, like she was worth remembering. “I wanted to get you something I knew you’d like. I always think gift cards are kind of a thoughtless gift, but at least you can get a good amount of free coffee.”
“This is so nice,” Mel blubbers, her eyes watering against her will. “You didn’t have to do this. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Nobody’s ever-” she stammers. “This is so nice. Oh, gosh.”
“It’s just a gift card, honey-”
Mel lunges for him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him flush against her. She’s hoping it isn’t too forward, but then again he was the one who drove all the way to her favorite coffee shop to get her a gift card, so she doesn’t really care anymore. Also, the hug was a very good way to hide the fact that she was crying. At her waist, his arms clasp behind her, holding her to him and Mel has to inhale sharply before she started to sob fully.
A sound comes from the car, and it makes her crack her eyes open. There, in the backseat, is Becca, grinning at her with her nose pressed to the window. Mel pulls away, frantically. “You-”
“Yeah,” Langdon tucks his hands into his pockets, suddenly looking bashful. “I remember you told me Becca doesn’t go to the facility on Thursdays, so I went to your apartment to ask for her help. I hope you don’t mind. She wanted me to tag along, said something about you two going to dinner. Sorry, is that weird?”
”No.”
”I really-”
“I don’t mind,” Mel blurts. “Um, seriously, thank you, Dr. Langdon.”
He holds up a hand. “Mel, please. We’re not at work. You do know my first name, don’t you?”
“Yes,” she says, probably too fast. “It’s Frank.”
He offers her a smile, gestures for her to get in the car, and Mel scrambles to the other side of the van. As she settles in, Becca pokes her head into the front seat.
“I like Dr. Langdon,” Becca tells Mel. “He would make a very good boyfriend for you.”
Mel is immediately horrified. Frank’s eyes go wide, and he pretends to examine something on the dashboard. “He’s married, Becca,” the words come tumbling out. “And we’re just friends.”
“Married?” Becca quips, like she doesn’t understand the concept. Mel is staring at her, pleadingly. But her sister’s brows are furrowed, and she’s looking at Frank. “Why don’t you wear a ring, Dr. Langdon?”
Mel feels the world tilt from under her, she thinks she might faint, watching him awkwardly rake his hand through his hair, side glancing Mel and looking away when he sees that she’s staring. With a start, Mel realizes her sister is right. He’s not wearing it now, Mel can’t remember the last time she saw that glimmer of gold, not since the first day she met him and felt a flicker of disappointment when she caught it glint in the light. That stupid ring had immediately smashed all her dreams, everything but her crush. Unfortunately.
But he wasn’t wearing it.
“Uh-”
“Becca, you can’t ask someone that,” Mel interjects.
“Why not?”
“No, Mel, it’s fine,” Frank assures. “I didn’t want to tell you this today, it’s your day. But.. uh.. Abby and I are getting a divorce. We talked about it a couple weeks ago, and we decided last night. It’s over.”
“Oh,” Mel says, and she can’t take a deep breath, she can’t do anything, really, other than stare at him. She waits to get another reaction from him, maybe guilt, maybe regret. None comes.
“Divorce,” Becca repeats. “Are you upset?”
He waits a moment before replying. “No, not really, Becca. I think this has been a long time coming.”
“I’m sorry,” Mel whispers to him, she’s not sure what exactly she is sorry for. If Becca made him feel forced to tell them, if he was secretly upset about it, if the reason he decided to call off his marriage was because of her.
Frank keeps her gaze this time. “Don’t be, Mel,” he says. “It’s for the best, really.”
“Okay,” she mumbles. They stare at each other, silently. Mel is analyzing his expression, his face, the way he makes a fist with his hand as if he’s physically restraining himself from reaching across the console to touch her. She studies the way his eyes soften when they meet hers, how his tongue runs across his lower lip. Mel thinks he’s trying to kill her.
Becca, oblivious to it all, exhales impatiently. “Where are we going for dinner? I’m starving.”
That breaks the spell immediately, Mel blinks a few times. “Um..”
“You pick,” Frank tells her, turning the key in the ignition and starting it. “You tell me where, I’ll drive us there.”
“Let me, um.. Google some places.”
“Okay,” he responds, backing out of the spot and doing that incredibly sexy thing that men did when they reversed—he put his hand on the back of her headrest, turning to look out of the window. “And don’t worry about the prices. I’m paying.”
“Frank,” Mel protested immediately.
“Mel,” he says in return, giving her a stern look. Becca giggles from the backseat. “No arguments. I decided this morning.”
“Well, you aren’t in charge of me,” she says, just to be a pain and sounding like a kid, which makes her flush. “So you don’t get to decide things.”
Frank looks at Becca in the rearview. “Talk some sense into your sister, please.”
“Let him pay,” Becca says immediately. “That way we can get dessert.”
Mel huffs, shooting Frank a look which only makes him grin in triumph. “Fine,” she folds her arms over her chest. “But just for that, I’m ordering the most expensive thing on the menu.”
“Yeah, Melissa, you could order the entire goddamn menu and I still wouldn’t change my mind.”
Mel is winded at that, so she purses her lips and stares out the window pointedly, which only makes him laugh.
***
Autumn has always been Mel’s favorite season. She loves everything pumpkin flavored, she loves all of the different vibrant oranges and yellows that come from the trees, the smell of the crisp air, and that she finally gets to bundle herself in her most comfortable jacket.
The end of summer sneaks up on her every year, the quick months of warmth always feels like a dream, like she blinks and it’s cold out. She does dislike winter, though. Trekking through the icy sidewalks to get to the bus has always been her least favorite activity. She hopes the weather will be calm when it comes to that.
Santos and Whitaker are at her left, staring up at the board and plucking cases like they’re eyebrow hairs and not actual patients. Mel always found that annoying.
“If we threw a Halloween party, would you come?”
Mel blinks, realizing she’s being addressed. “Hm? Yeah. It’s only September.”
“I know. Just.. planning ahead. You know?”
“Can I bring Becca?” she asks, hopefully.
“Yeah, why not?” Whitaker shrugs. “The more the merrier, right?”
“Right,” Santos agrees.
“Incoming car wreck,” Dana announces, putting the phone down. “Three minutes out. Two motorists and a cyclist.”
Mel is pulled back into the chaos after that, assisting alongside Langdon and Mckay who handle the situation like pros. Mel is happy to follow their leads. Mckay takes the dad, Al-Hashimi jumps in to tend the cyclist that was injured, Mel briefly thinks of Robby.
“Looking at a spinal injury and pinched nerves,” Langdon says. “Not reactive to pain. Order a CT and an MRI.”
“Call respiratory,” Mel says, holding her stethoscope to the woman’s chest. “Breathing is shallow.”
“Think she’s paralyzed?”
“Let’s hope not,” Mel answers, “responding to pain above the lumbar, nerve endings might be clipped. Let’s check for paraplegia.”
Frank works around her, allowing himself to be instructed and Mel tries not to feel dizzy at the realization.
It’s hours until she clocks out, she’s exhausted, taking a sip of her water at the lockers, waiting for him.
“Hey,” he approaches, stifling a yawn.
“Hi,” she answers.
“Ready?”
“Yes.”
They duck out of the ED, Mel knows where he’ll be parked already and feels a twinge of pride when she turns out to be right. He parks near the middle, always the third row.
“Long day,” he muses into the silence, Mel exhales in her seat. “Thought we were gonna lose that kid.”
“Me, too,” she admits, softly. “I’m glad we didn’t.”
“Yeah,” he sighs, rubbing his eyes. “God, I can’t wait for this apartment hunting bullshit to be over. If I have to sleep in that uncomfortable guest bed again I’m going to lose it.”
“Still no luck?”
“God, no. Every place is so expensive. I don’t want my paycheck to be gone after a single month’s rent.”
“I have a pull out,” she says, and her face heats when he looks at her. “Couch. Oh, gosh. Sorry, this is coming out weird. It’s pretty comfortable, is what I’m trying to say. It might help your back if your guest bed is that bad.”
“Thanks, Mel,” he says.
Mel only smiles.
***
She doesn’t actually expect Frank to take her up on her offer, so when he texts her and asks if he can come over, Mel spends the next thirty minutes scrambling to clean her apartment. It’s not exactly dirty, but Becca left her shoes scattered and there’s a couple of pillows on the floor from the couch. She rushes to take the trash out, lights a candle, and loads the dishwasher before she sees the headlights from his car pull into the parking lot.
Mel exhales, shakily. She paces back and forth, and when he knocks at the door, she waits a moment before opening, as if to make herself look less enthusiastic. He smiles at her as she swings it open, a bag over his shoulder. He’s in jeans and a dark shirt, something she’s seen him in a lot due to their carpooling, but the jacket he’s wearing is new to her. Somehow, the only word she can come up to describe it is boyfriend. It’s a very boyfriend-y jacket.
Mel turns away quickly, letting him step in. “How was traffic?” Mel asks, because what the hell do you say when the man you’ve had a crush on is in your apartment, staying the night?
Frank snorts, dropping his bag by her couch, tucking it under her end table to keep it out of the way. “Really? You’re asking me about traffic? Don’t tell me you’re nervous, Mel.”
“No,” she chirps. Unconvincingly so. “Okay, fine.”
“It’s just me.”
“Yes. In my apartment,” she shakes her head. “This is the first time you’ve been here. I’m allowed to be nervous.”
“Untrue,” he waves a finger at her, casually flips open one of the magazines she has on her coffee table. “I picked Becca up.”
“That’s not what I mean,” she goes on.
“Okay, well,” Frank shrugs. “You’re making it weird. Not me.”
“You’re the first guy who I’ve ever had over,” Mel says, then purses her lips, bashfully. “I can’t speak right. Oh no. Okay, I’m just gonna go into the kitchen and get you some water and then you won’t even know I’m here, I’ll hide in my room.”
“Mel,” he stands to his feet, shaking his head. “This is your space. I will be the one who’s not even here, okay?”
“Okay,” she agrees, uncertainly.
“And it’s still early. Aren’t you hungry? I haven’t had dinner yet. We can order something, if you want.”
“I was going to cook chicken. Well, attempt to. I’m not very good at it. It’s always very tough.”
“Well, I’ll be your extra set of eyes, then.”
It reminds her of Ryan, of Frank’s obvious jealousy and Mel flushes at him. “Okay. Come help me.”
So he does, Mel pulls the thawed chicken from the fridge, grabs a cutting board, just as Frank sets his phone down on the counter, an unfamiliar song playing. She turns at the sound.
“What?” he asks. “You don’t listen to music when you cook?”
“Not usually,” she admits. “Becca always says it’s too loud. But.. she’s not here. So it’s okay.”
It feels like some sort of confession, that they’re alone in her apartment for the night. Mel swallows. Frank watches her. Then his eyes dart to the chicken.
“Go on,” he commands, softly. “I’m here if you start a fire.”
“You have a lot of faith in me,” she comments, dryly. Frank laughs. She does what she’s told, anyway, dipping the chicken in breadcrumbs and asking him to turn the stove on.
The smell hits her first, it actually smells good—not like how it usually does when she cooks it alone. Frank pulls the pieces out at the perfect time, it seems. He doesn’t burn it, doesn’t even give the oil the opportunity to pop out of the pan.
The song changes, Frank makes an appreciative hum. “God, I love this song.”
“What song is it?”
He looks at her like she’s said something offensive. “Oh, wow. I didn’t know you were limited to Megan Thee Stallion only. This… is a classic.”
She watches him turn, pressing the volume on his phone and flooding the kitchen with a soft tune. “And what is.. this exactly?”
“Styx. Obviously.”
“Right. I forgot you’re sixty.”
“Ha.”
She starts to giggle, watching him do a funny little sway of his hips, and then, he takes her by the hand, twirls her, and Mel yelps as she is pulled to him.
You know it’s you, babe
Whenever I get weary, and I’ve had enough
“Relax,” he tells her. Mel gives him a look, but he spins her again, and she laughs. When she’s drawn back to him, his grip finds her waist, and Mel tries her very best not to tense. She’s never been big on touching, and she is surprised at how much she likes his hands on her.
She forces the tension to leave her shoulders. Raises her gaze to his, and wraps her arms around his neck.
Feel like giving up
You know it’s you, babe
Giving me the courage and strength I need
They sway, Mel can’t quite believe what’s going on, that she’s dancing with Frank Langdon in her kitchen, to his favorite song, while he just helped her cook chicken. That part hardly feels romantic, but to Mel, it somehow still is.
Please, believe that it’s true
Babe, I love you
“Good song,” she says after a moment. Her heart is pounding, and briefly, she drops her hand to his chest to feel that his is beating faster than normal, too. That makes her feel better, like maybe she isn’t the only one falling this deep.
“Told you,” he smirks, dropping his hand from her. “So, uh, where do you eat? I noticed you don’t have a table.”
Mel shrugs. “It’s time to put you on to folding trays. I can’t eat without watching something. Buying a table was useless.”
Frank squints at her. “I love learning things about you.”
Mel ushers him out of the kitchen. “Cmon, I’ll even give you the privilege of picking out a movie.”
He laughs, Mel thinks it’s her favorite sound in the world.
She’s not sure what she’s expecting to happen, they eat dinner on her couch, finish a movie, stay up talking about anything they could possibly think of, and by her third yawn, Frank insists that they should get to sleep. She helps him with the pull-out, (the COUCH! goodness) and puts the plates in the sink before heading to bed. At her door, she hesitates.
He’s watching her when Mel turns around. “Where does Abby think you are, anyway?”
“She knows,” he says, like that explains anything.
“Knows you’re here?”
“Yeah. She knows a lot about you, actually. Night, Mel.”
That only confuses her more, and his obvious dismissal makes her eyes narrow. Still, she closes her bedroom door behind her, takes a moment to collect herself and steady her breathing before collapsing onto her bed and screaming mutely into her pillow.
She doesn’t know how she’s supposed to get any sort of sleep with Frank in her living room, the silence is almost unbearable, she’s sure he can hear her every movement. That thought doesn’t help with the ache between her legs, either, Mel has to squeeze her eyes shut and pray that it will all stop.
When she wakes, she is disappointed to discover Frank did not climb into her bed in the middle of the night. And when she leaves her room, she sees that he’s already awake, he’s put the couch back together and erased any proof of his existence. She honestly thinks he’s already left, but then she hears the bathroom door open, and he exits, hair a mess and toothbrush hanging out of his mouth.
His sweats are low around his waist. Mel is momentarily speechless, suddenly aware of her own tank top that she is acutely growing self conscious in, exposed before him.
“Morning, Mel,” he greets, despite the toothpaste in his mouth. She’s disgusted with herself for finding it so attractive.
“Hi, Frank,” Mel says instead.
***
Mel isn’t sure what she’s dressed as, she has her hair in two braids that Becca helped wove flowers through, she doesn’t usually have time for Halloween parties, or had ever been invited to one before, really.
She’d sent Frank a picture before she left, feeling insecure.
Is this okay???
Attachment: 1 Image
Holy shit was his reply
Yeah Mel
You look fucking great
Suddenly wishing I was invited
Lol
Enjoy trick or treating
Gonna be hard to now
Tease
Mel can’t figure that one out, so she tries her best not to dwell on it. The party, is also, the first time in months that she’d drank. Becca had bailed, went with Adam someplace instead, so Mel was free to do as she pleased.
She had too many buzzballs, probably. And two shots of Smirnoff was enough. There were several faces she recognized, and some she did not. Garcia was there, the farm girl (Amy?) that Whitaker was seeing, dressed as a tellatubby.
Mel was drunk by eleven pm, hiding out in the bathroom and giggling to herself. She calls Frank, and he answers on the first ring.
“Hey. Hey, you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she says. “How’s you?”
“How’s me?” he echoes, snorting. “You drunk, Mel?”
“Lightly buzzed. Are you still picking me up?”
“Yep. Tell me what time.”
“Time is eleven thirty-seven.” He laughs again, Mel joins him. She’s not sure what is so funny. “How were the kids?”
“They gave up after six houses.”
“Did you get any good candy?”
“I snagged you some Reese's, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“You know me so well.”
“Yeah,” he agrees.
“Are you on your way?”
“You want to be picked up? Now?”
“Yes. I miss you.”
“Oh.” She hears him inhale, sharply. “Baby, I miss you too.”
Mel feels giddy at the pet name. She leans against the wall of the bathroom, twirling the end of her braid between her fingers.
“Why do you call me these names?”
He shuffles on the other end, she imagines him grabbing his keys. “Do you not like them?”
“I do. Uh-oh. Someone is trying to break into the bathroom. Gotta go.”
“Mel-”
She hangs up, opens the bathroom door to reveal Trinity, who cocks a brow. “Why hello.”
“Hi.”
“What cha doing?”
“Fixing my makeup.”
“You have no makeup on.”
“I was talking to Frank,” she comes clean immediately.
Trinity crosses her arms. “Oh, really?”
“Yes. He’s picking me up.”
“I have been wondering..” she trails off. “What’s going on with you guys?”
“Nothing. He hasn’t even kissed me.”
Trinity doesn’t seem to know what to say to that. Mel brushes past her, attempting to find her shoes in the mix of people. Frank texts her that he’s there a few minutes later, Mel can’t remember if she says goodbye to anyone.
She’s embarrassingly lightweight, she barely registers the car ride, the frequent glances he shoots her, the way she leans on him as he opens the door to her apartment.
Mel finds her bed with ease, she feels him drape a blanket over her. That stirs her awake, she reaches to grab his wrist, and he stills. “No,” Mel protests. “Stay.”
“Mel-”
“Please?”
He eyes her, softly. Then he kicks his shoes off, and climbs into the bed beside her. He stays above the blanket she’s sleeping on, but Mel still presses closer to him anyway.
“Goodnight,” she whispers.
She thinks he kisses her forehead, but she can’t be sure. Mel sleeps better that night than she has in her entire life, or maybe she’s still a little drunk.
***
Dr. Robby comes back that month. The entire department is on edge, but Frank especially. He’s more jittery, glances over his shoulder like he’s expecting the attending to barge in at any moment.
She doesn’t realize just how bad it’s affecting him until she hears him outside on the balcony. Mel stirs from her sleep, her door is still cracked—something she started doing in hopes of him coming in instead of sleeping on the couch. He never does. She tries not to be upset about that.
Her alarm clock reads 1am. Groggily, she pushes herself up, listening to his voice carry in. She can tell he’s on the phone from the pauses between his words, and she slowly starts to make her way out to him.
He’s left the slider door open, which annoys her because it’s November and it’s cold, but he’s pacing as he talks, back toward her.
“I know,” he’s saying. “I know. It’s stupid. I shouldn’t let it. It’s driving me fucking insane. I don’t.. yeah. No, definitely. She’ll have to find out eventually. She’s not stupid.”
Mel stills.
“Not yet, I don’t think,” Frank goes on, oblivious to her standing there. “I don’t really care about that. Okay, well if he tells her good on him. Yeah. Right. Okay, yeah. Goodnight, sorry for bugging you. I know what you said, but still. Yeah, bye.”
Mel’s jaw is tight. “Was that Abby?” she asks.
Frank jumps, spins to face her. “Oh, shit. Sorry, did I wake you?”
“Were you talking to Abby?” Mel demands. “Oh my gosh. You’re getting back together.”
Frank’s brows furrow. “I’m sorry. What?”
“You’re making mysterious phone calls in the middle of the night, talking about you don’t care who finds out? If she finds out? I’m the she. You’re getting back with-”
“Melissa,” he holds a hand up. Mel’s throat goes dry. “Please.”
“Please what?” She folds her arms. “Please let you stay on my couch while I sort this out with my wife? Let me string you along and make you think I have feelings for you?”
“I do have feelings for you!” He shouts, then he lowers his voice, immediately looking guilty. “Oh, God. Mel, seriously? I was talking to Mckay. This Robby shit is making me freak the fuck out for no reason. I’m so paranoid he’s going to come back tomorrow and tell me I’m still not worthy of working in his department. His voice just keeps.. ringing in my head.”
“Oh.” Mel feels like an idiot now. She shifts on her feet awkwardly. “Okay, then what about all that stuff about.. someone finding out?”
“Well.. Mckay thinks that Robby will find out about us and tell Abby. Like, some bullshit high school level petty stuff. I wouldn’t be surprised. And Abby knows. Sort of, anyway. That I’ve been staying with someone.”
Mel deflates. “Oh. Oh. I’m sorry.”
He cocks a brow. Her stomach flutters. “Don’t be. That was cute.”
She hides her face. “Please stop.”
“No, seriously. Get jealous over my ex-wife again.”
“Frank,” she groans.
He’s standing in front of her when she opens her eyes again, prying her hands away from her face. “There is no chance of that happening. Ever. I’m pretty in love with you, as it turns out.”
Mel gapes at him. “You-”
“Yeah.”
“You haven’t even kissed me,” she accuses. “How can you know you love me if you haven’t ever kissed me?”
He laughs, like he can’t believe her. “What? I thought- I just thought you didn’t like that kind of thing. You don’t like being touched.”
”That doesn’t answer my question, Dr. Langdon.”
”Oh, Dr. Langdon?” He echoes. Mel squirms under his gaze. “Melissa, I do not need to kiss you for my feelings to be true. Do I want to kiss you? Yes, obviously. God. But I can live with not doing it if it means you’re comfortable and I still get to be with you.”
”And are you?”
”Am I what?”
”With me?”
He gestures around them. “Christ, woman.”
She scowls at him. “You don’t come into my room. You don’t kiss me.”
”I’m trying to- to respect your boundaries. I know you, Mel. You don’t like to be touched.”
Not by anyone else, she doesn’t say. Just by you. Touch me, please. Touch me or I think I’ll die.
“Well, how would you know? You haven’t tried.”
Frank raises a brow, the way his hair is falling into his eyes makes Mel want to reach and brush it out of the way. It’s Frank who moves instead, actually, leaning down, taking her jaw in his. He kisses her slowly, like he’s giving her time to pull away, and when she doesn’t, he backs her up against the wall—well technically it’s the glass door, but Mel thinks it’s sturdy enough so she doesn’t argue.
He pulls back, Mel is frowning at him. “That’s it?” she asks.
“No. I was just seeing if kissing you confirmed my suspicions.” Frank shrugs, pulling her lower lip down with the pad of his thumb. “I was right, by the way. Still in love with you.”
Mel is hungry—starving, actually. She lurches forward, hooking her arms around his neck and pulling him back to her. She can feel him grinning against her mouth, tongue parting her lips and evoking a gasp from her that is far too loud for what time it is. His grip on her jaw is what guides her to her bedroom, she can feel the pounding of his heart as they stand chest to chest, his body guiding her through the door. He doesn’t stop kissing her once.
“What do you think, Mel?” Frank murmurs, his words coming out strangled. “Gonna let me love you, baby?”
“Yes,” Mel answers instantly, tipping his head as she tugged on his hair. The sound he makes is guttural. “I love you, too,” she says. “And I like ‘honey’ more.”
She doesn’t think he can help himself from pouncing on her after that, pushing her back on the bed, kissing her in places she didn’t even know mouths could wander to, making her arch into him while he murmured her name over and over again until it didn’t feel like a word anymore—Mel learned what it was to be loved that night, learned the art of being kissed and touched in ways that pleased her instead of ways that made her pull away. Frank Langdon showed her lots of things, proved himself right, that was for certain.
