I’m always thinking about this scenario and buck drops (specially when we talked about a few months ago of buddie and bsdm hiii im that anon lol ) crying crying during sex that leads to a pause or early end to comfort and take care of whatever emotions bubbled over
hi hiiii! this ended up much more hurt/comfort than porn, oops, lol.
When the crash happens, it comes hard and fast and so unexpected that it's like the ground dropped out from under his feet all at once.
It's happened before. Buck's had a lot of sex with a lot of people and for a while this was just a thing that happened sometimes—an unpleasant but inevitable price to pay for feeling good, like a hangover. But that was a long time ago. He takes better care of himself now. And this is Eddie. It wasn't supposed to happen with Eddie.
One minute he's flying high, mind like a kite, all giddy euphoria as he trembles through his third orgasm of the evening, overstimulation so sharp it feels painful, almost, in that way he likes, in that way Eddie knows he likes: wrists secured to the headboard so he can't touch himself or bat Eddie away, body lit up like a live wire, electric, beyond speech, beyond anything other than his own skin and bones, ringing with pleasure.
Then he starts to come down from it, and it's like gravity catches him in a sudden grip. He plummets, all that good feeling draining out of him like he's a cracked glass, spilling all over Eddie's bed, and not in the fun way.
He's crying, he realizes. That's happened before. Overstimulation, big feelings, tears happen. Eddie won't think anything of it, probably. They don't have to stop. Buck can still do this, he can be good, he can—just breathe, maybe, he doesn't have to tap out, he's just having some trouble—
Eddie's speaking to him. He can't catch the words. He needs to. Eddie's palm is on his cheek, his face very close. Buck blinks tears from his eyes and looks at him, distantly aware of the jagged heaving sounds of his own sobs. Eddie's mouth shapes a word that might be his name, might be a question, but Buck can't answer.
Eddie shifts back, leaning out of Buck's field of vision for a moment. Then his wrists are free, one after the other, so quick that Eddie must have used the trauma shears instead of bothering with the knots. They'll have to get new ropes, Buck thinks, with another hazy thrum of embarrassed guilt, but Eddie is back now, rubbing at his faintly raw wrists with warm hands before laying himself down on the bed next to Buck and folding him into his arms.
Buck curls into him, trembling, shoving his wet face into Eddie's throat, hands curled against his own chest like wounded birds. Eddie's hand in his hair, sliding down his sweaty spine, then back up again, a slow rhythm that Buck's scattered brain catches on, like a touchstone. He's humming quietly, tunelessly, a sound Buck can hear mostly in his chest. No words, at least not right now.
"S-s-sorry," Buck manages through another hitching sob. Tears drip down his face, smearing against Eddie's bare skin, and his nose is starting to feel thick and stuffy. He might be able to breathe better if he lifted his head, but he doesn't want to do that. Lifting his head out of the safe darkness of Eddie's shoulder means looking Eddie in the eye, means explaining himself.
"Shhh," Eddie murmurs, rocking him slightly. "Hey, it's okay, it's okay."
It's quiet, gentle, like he's soothing a kid having a nightmare, and Buck kind of wants to be angry and embarrassed about that, but he's having some trouble feeling anything else around that hollow pit in his stomach.
It's so stupid. There's no good reason for it. And yeah, he knows the mechanics of it all, the chemistry involved, but it wasn't supposed to happen here, it wasn't supposed to happen with Eddie.
"So s-stupid. M'fine."
Buck is supposed to have it together. Eddie's new at this, still—men, yeah, but also this, these kinds of games. He's eager and delighted and so, so good to Buck, and Buck was supposed to be good to him, he's supposed to—
"Uh huh," Eddie says, dry enough that Buck wants to bite him, or maybe laugh. It's a sharp prickle of a feeling, like something numb coming back to life. Pins and needles. "Humor me for a minute anyway, huh?"
He shifts. Buck can feel his body, the familiar heat of it. They're both naked. Buck's skin is smeared with lube and come. Eddie's still half-hard—Buck can feel the weight of his bare cock against his thigh, weirdly intimate like this.
"You didn't even get to…"
"Not really worried about that right now, Buck."
"I'm fine," Buck mumbles, like he's going to convince Eddie now. "We can keep going."
Eddie scoffs, then presses his mouth to Buck's forehead. If he's upset, if he's freaking out, it doesn't show in his voice when he speaks. "If it was me you'd never let me get away with that, come on."
That's true enough. He forgets, sometimes, that it goes both ways. That hurts too, in a weird sharp way. Another sob shudders out of him. He shifts against Eddie, then worms his arm out from in between them to wrap it around Eddie's ribs, clinging tight.
"Okay," Eddie murmurs, pulling him closer. "Okay, it's okay. Just take a minute, huh? We're okay. I got you. I got you."
Buck nods against his shoulder. That shaky, awful, hollow feeling is still there, but he's warmer now, caged in the circle of Eddie's arms.
They'll have to talk about it, he knows. Later. For now, he stays still, and breathes, and lets Eddie take the weight.
congrats on the follower milestone! would you want to write a drabble on the ask you sent cece about what a kingdon proposal would be like? i thought it was so sweet
mature | established relationship | 1k words
This prompt was referencing this ask, given in response to the request for engagement headcanons from the wonderful @princessdelacruz!
cw: some sexual content
For once, Frank woke up before his alarm.
Still groggy with sleep, Frank couldn’t help but grin as he stretched. Mel was normally the early riser, even on their days off. Frank slept right up to his alarm, fighting for every last second to keep his eyes closed. It was him who usually talked Mel into lounging in bed (and only about half the time it led to other activities. Well, maybe a little more than half).
So it was a treat to be the only one awake for the moment, with Mel still sleeping beside him. They were going to get Tanner and Penny from Abby’s later that day, doing their handoff after Tanner’s soccer game. The house was quiet—even the dog was still asleep, as far as Frank could tell.
He carefully extended a long arm, reaching for Mel’s phone so he could turn the alarm she’d set the night before off. They had hours still before they had to be anywhere, plenty of time to be a little lazy and have a late breakfast and shower together. For now, Frank was going to take the chance to just… look.
Mel was almost always in motion. Not in the same way Frank was, but she was always linking her fingers or making fists and pressing them against her thigh or fixing her hair. To see her completely relaxed, and more so to see her to be able to do it with him, in their bed in their home, was something that Frank was still in awe of. He was no longer surprised that he got to have Mel at all, let alone like this, a long time ago, secure in their relationship and how they felt about one another. Even so, he was still delighted by just having her with him, in his arms.
Well, actually, it was more like was on top of him. Because at some point during the night, Mel rolled onto Frank and was now basically starfished on top of him. Her long, blonde hair, at first neatly braided, was messy and half falling out. Her mouth was hanging open, and she wasn’t quite snoring, but she was breathing deeply. Her cheeks were a little flushed from the heat Frank’s body constantly gave off, and her elbow was kind of digging into his side.
It was perfect.
Every day, Frank thought about how much he loved Mel. Every day, he was pretty sure he fell in love with her just a little more. It was almost like he could find some new thing to love, something little about Mel that just made him realize how special she was. Well, how special she was to him, anyway.
Frank slipped his hand under the hem of Mel’s t-shirt (one that she had claimed as her own the first month they started dating. She asked him to wear it every few months, so it could still smell like him), stroking up the length of her spine. He ran his fingers over the bumps, lingering, tracing the lines of her body that he’d come to know as well as his own.
As he knew she would, Mel began to shift in her sleep, slowly coming awake. She stretched, her elbow digging deeper into his side for a brief moment. Frank grunted but didn’t let Mel roll off of him, one hand anchoring her to him by the hip, and the other sliding back down her spine to rest on her bottom, keeping her right where she was.
Mel’s nose wrinkled and then she yawned. Her eyes fluttered open and she blinked a few times, turning to press her face into the hair covering Frank’s bare chest. She breathed in deeply—Frank smiled—and then lifted her head. Mel’s chin came to rest on his chest, and a sleepy smile curled her pretty pink lips.
“Morning,” Mel greeted around another yawn. She brought one hand up, almost absentmindedly pressing her thumb into the dimple of his chin. Frank was pretty sure she didn’t even realize when she was doing it. His favorite was when she stretched up on her tiptoes to kiss it.
And Frank stared down at her, smile on his own lips, prepared to give his own morning greeting. What he said instead was, “Will you marry me?”
There was a beat of silence. Mel squinted at him, like being able to see him better would somehow improve her hearing. She stared at him somemore. Then she asked, “Did you just ask me to marry you?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I did.” Frank had the ring picked out, and it was sitting in the glove compartment of his car. They’d talked about marriage before, in the sort of abstract way of, “we know it’s going to happen, it’s just a matter of timing.” This was it. Now was the time.
“Oh. Okay.” Mel looked more awake, and she smiled brightly at him. “Well then. Yes.”
“Yeah?” Frank said again. He lifted his head, scooting back a little to sit up. He guided Mel into an upright position with him, taking her face in his hands and leaning forward to kiss the tip of her nose. Suddenly feeling a little nervous at his very impromptu, unplanned proposal, he asked, “Are you sure you don’t want—”
Mel was beaming. “Frank. Yes, I will marry you.”
And then Frank was laughing in exhilaration, and Mel was giggling too, and he was pulling her up so he could kiss her, his lips parting beneath hers to deepen it. Her fingers tangled in his hair and she held him close, pressing her chest to his.
Later, when Frank was deep inside her, rolling his hips slowly against hers, he pressed his lips to her ear. “I think I’ve loved you since the first day, Mel.”
Mel gasped, her head tilting back against the pillows. She let out a breathless laugh. “You have not,” she said, more teasing than anything.
Frank chuckled and held himself inside her, grinding against her. Mel’s fingers dug into his shoulders. “Maybe I just didn’t know what it was,” he allowed, ducking down to kiss her.
Maybe it wasn’t love, exactly, that he’d felt on that first day. But something about Mel King captivated him. It was enough to make him think about her for the ten months after that, and to seek her out on that first day back. The understanding they had reached during that second shift set them on the path to where they were now: in love, and ready to spend the rest of their lives together.
sending good writing vibes your way!
buddie and "you don't get to touch me like that and still call it friendship"!!!
Your good vibes worked, thank you!! I managed to write the words!! This is a little angsty at first but I hope it hits the spot. <33 If you prefer, you can read it on AO3 here.
---
It isn’t supposed to feel like this. Even after everything, his whole life, all the people who have left, the expanse of empty sheets in the morning a familiar sight—even after all that, Buck is still a romantic, deep down. He still thought if you found someone who stuck around for years, and you let them in and let them see the real you, and then they kissed you and took you to bed, then that was it, the happily ever after. At the very least they’d be there in the morning.
He didn’t think he’d be driving across town while staving off what feels like a panic attack, an iron cage around his chest, his heart hammering against it. If he thought about Eddie in particular…god, it fucking hurts. For a minute he thinks he might have to pull over, it hurts so bad. Like he’s dying. Like he might actually die.
Buck pulls in the driveway and practically sprints to the door, hammers on it with the flat of his palm. It’s still early, but not so early that Chris won’t already be at school, or maybe still on the bus on the way there. It used to be that Buck knew his schedule better, entered it into his calendar at the beginning of every school year so he knew exactly when to show up if Eddie needed help with pick-up or drop-off. Things have been different since Texas. Buck’s tried not to think about it too much. Now he wonders if he should have thought about it more.
“Eddie!” he yells—unnecessarily, since the door swings open not even a second later.
“Buck?” It comes out like a question, like Eddie didn’t expect him to be here. As if Buck was just going to take Eddie fooling around with him and then disappearing in stride. The iron band around Buck’s chest squeezes tighter.
“Don’t—” Buck shakes his head, words lost to him. “Just—”
He shoulders his way inside, Eddie stumbling backward while he continues his spot-on impression of someone who’s shocked Buck is here. “Look,” Eddie starts to say, but Buck can’t—he can’t fucking take it. His hands ball into fists against the urge to plant against Eddie’s chest and shove.
“Is this how you treat people?” Buck says, but he realizes as soon as he says it that, yeah, it is, actually. It’s how Eddie’s treated him, if he really lets himself look at how things have been between them, if he holds it up to the light and examines it. He’s important enough to be in Eddie’s will, important enough to come over and try to stop Chris from leaving, but he’s not important enough to know Eddie’s thinking of moving. He’s important enough for Eddie to bring Chris back from Texas, but not important enough for Eddie to come back himself, not for him. They’ve watched each other almost die so many times, and Buck always…but Eddie just took it in stride—shove it down, don’t talk about it. So Buck didn’t talk about it either. Not unless walls were getting smashed with baseball bats, and even then, only long enough to make sure nothing was damaged beyond repair.
Eddie sags a little, like he knows he’s been caught, but his jaw is still stubbornly clenched, his gaze averted. “You’re my best friend.”
“No,” Buck says, nearly snarls. “You don’t get to—to touch me like that and still call it friendship.”
“You are, though,” Eddie says. “Last night doesn’t change that for me.”
“It changes things for me.” Buck’s scared he might cry, the sob already stuck at the back of his throat. It takes him a generous handful of seconds to swallow it down. “I can’t just forget it ever happened.”
“So don’t.” Eddie’s eyes are wide, suddenly full of desperation. “I’m not asking you to. I’m just—I’m sorry, Buck. It was a moment of—of weakness, and—”
Weakness? No, that’s not right. Before he can stop himself, Buck is stepping forward, hands going to Eddie’s elbows to stop him from stepping back. “What’s that supposed to mean?” No, he knows what it means, he’s not an idiot. “How long have you—?”
“Forever,” Eddie says, like a reflex, even as he leans away from Buck’s grasp like he’s trying to put as much distance between them as he can. “For a long time, anyway. Since—I don’t know. By the time I realized, it felt like it’d always been there.”
That, Buck can relate to. When Eddie kissed him last night, gentle fingers curling around Buck’s to remove the beer bottle from his hand, Buck’s first thought was, oh. As in, oh, this is what I’ve been feeling. As in, oh, this is why I’m only myself when you’re here, why I’m lost when you’re gone.
But apparently Eddie just—knew. All along.
“But why…?” He said weakness. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because, Buck.” He does step out of Buck’s grip then, but carefully, gently. “You’ve seen how it goes with me. My own son ran across the country to get away from me. You are—” Buck watches Eddie visibly collect himself, throat clicking as he swallows. His eyes are so big and dark, shiny wet. Buck wants to grab him and hold him and never, never let go. “You are too fucking important.”
Buck can’t decide if he’s going to puke or bawl or collapse, but he does know that if he kisses Eddie right now, he could avoid all three—so he does it. He steps into Eddie space and puts a hand on either side of his face and kisses him with everything he has, his entire body, his entire soul, and he doesn’t stop until he feels Eddie’s trembling fingers at his waist—another moment of weakness maybe, but one Buck’s not going to let him run away from this time.
“I love you,” Buck says, shaky and rough, breathing it into the warm space between their mouths.
“Buck,” Eddie says, a plea.
“It’s okay, Eddie. I promise, I promise you, it’s okay.”
Eddie clutches him in earnest then, hands sliding up to his shoulder blades, pads of his fingers digging in like he needs to keep Buck close, like Buck would ever think of running. “I love you,” he says, and Buck can hear how much it hurts him to say, ripping its way out of him, leaving gaping wounds behind. It’s okay, though. Now that Buck knows, now that he can feel the fear in the way Eddie touches him, he gets it. Eddie isn’t the only one who’s felt like he’s driven everyone away. He’s not the only one who’s worried happiness was something only meant for other people. So much has gone wrong in Buck’s life, but with Eddie, it’s always felt right. So it’s okay. It’ll all be okay, now.
Buck’s thumbs sweep Eddie’s cheekbones, briefly mesmerized at the soft skin under his eyes and the fact that he gets to touch it, the tenderness of that freckle under his eye up close. “I’ve got you,” Buck says. Eddie sighs into the next kiss, and Buck’s breathes it in, all that hesitant relief, the first real breath he’s taken in—maybe ever.
I’ve got you, he repeats in his head. He just likes the way it sounds.
I think I saw you say you have wips, but a prompt, if you fancy: abby storms into the ed one day hell’s ablazing yelling like “which one of you is fucking my husband?” or “which one of you is mel king?” and that’s how the rest of the pitt find out about mel and langdon
happy holidays, love ✨
read on ao3
Abby hated hospitals. Even the nice ones made her feel vaguely nauseous, and that was including the glossy, expensive facility she'd found for her father's cancer treatment. Frank had plenty to say about that place, vague statements that had the air of criticism, even though Abby couldn't understand the problem. It's all pay to play, he'd sniped in the car, knuckles white on the steering wheel, and she'd kept her mouth shut even as she wanted to snap, Good thing it's my money, then.
She remembered this as she slipped through the throngs of coughing, ill-smelling people gathered in the PTMC ED's waiting room. She had plenty of thoughts she could share, now, but she knew Frank wasn't even here today. She'd made sure of it.
There was a long line to approach a glass window, and Abby joined the back of it dutifully, keeping her arms crossed tight across her chest as if she might protect herself from the general sickness of the room. When she reached the front, she plastered on her best, most unassuming smile, slipping her ID through the slot at the bottom.
"Dana's expecting me," she said cheerily.
The woman at the desk glanced at the ID and then back up to Abby's face. "Langdon," she read, raising an eyebrow as if she had asked a question.
"My husband," Abby confirmed, the word only sticking in her throat a little bit. "I told Dana that - "
"Yeah, she mentioned you might be swinging by." Abby didn't think she was imagining the thread of suspicion in the woman's tone, but then she nodded, clicking a button until a side door buzzed. "Come on in, Mrs. Langdon."
Abby managed a smile and said, "Thank you. Abby is fine," but the woman - her badge was too small for Abby to read from here - had already looked over Abby's shoulder, beckoning the next patient forward.
There was a security guard standing at the door, and he gave Abby a once-over as she entered.
She'd never been to PTMC before. Not inside, at least. She'd swung through the ambulance bay to bring Frank an extra pair of shoes after his usual ones had been in the crosshairs of fluids Abby didn't want names to, but she hadn't even parked the car, just passed the sneakers through the window like it was a drive-thru.
While the waiting room was dark and humid, the ED floor itself was almost comically bright and frigid, the fluorescents and A/C seemingly battling each other. People were walking at clipped paces while patients lounged in beds pushed up against the walls in varying stages of discomfort. One man was watching the proceedings with wide-eyed amusement as he chomped down on a sandwich, while a girl that couldn't have been older than twenty was writhing in pain as a nurse tried to pry her mouth open to administer medication.
Her eyes scanned the space until they snagged on the person she was looking for, and she made her way toward the desk, lifting her chin the way her mother taught her. It conveys confidence.
When she was less than a foot away, she said, in the most measured tone she could manage, "Dr. King."
The woman in question snapped her head up, eyes wide, and Abby was infuriated by how precious the whole thing was. Like a Disney character, a baby deer, something helpless and hapless and begging for someone to save it.
It shouldn't have surprised her. Frank loved to play the hero.
"Oh," Dr. King said. She was holding a tablet, and she pressed it to her chest, her lips tilting into a confused smile. "Can I help you?"
"I sure hope so." Abby smiled. "You're the one fucking my husband, right?"
Dr. King - Mel, Abby remembered, from the text messages and Frank's stories and that awful, red-faced fight - dropped the tablet.
"Oh. Oh, gosh. Um, let me just - Princess!" she called, her words tripping over themselves in her haste to spit them out. "Can you, uh, South 15, I need to - "
A nurse - Princess, Abby guessed - took the tablet from Mel's hands. Her expression was one close to glee, flitting her eyes between Mel and Abby with obvious curiosity, though she at least tamped down on the smile threatening to pull at her features.
Mel didn't look at Abby as she said, "Let's, uh - this room is free, we can - "
They made their way across the hall, whispers and stares collecting in their wake, and Abby forced herself to maintain a measured pace even as Mel damn near sprinted to the glass doored room. As soon as they were both inside, she tugged the curtain around them, effectively barring the crowd evidently intrigued by this new circus.
The women were silent for a moment. Mel chewed her lip and nervously fidgeted with her glasses, taking an obvious breath before finally meeting Abby's gaze.
"So, this is awkward," her husband's mistress said astutely.
Abby crossed her arms and leaned heavily on one hip as she scoffed. "That's a word for it."
"Abby, I'm so - I'm really sorry about this, Frank mentioned that the conversation went, um... poorly," this with a wince, like she knew it was an understatement, "but we really... it's important to him that everything stays above board, with the kids, and - "
"Above board?" Abby echoed. "Maybe he shouldn't be fucking another woman if he was so concerned with keeping things above board."
Mel went still for the first time since Abby had approached. "But... you're, um..."
Anger flared, hot and blinding. "We're what?"
Mel King blinked at her, both hands held tightly by her chest, her eyes darting all over the room like she was hoping if she bought enough time, someone might swoop in and save her. That Abby's husband might swoop in and save her.
He would, too, Abby realized horribly. Thank fucking God she'd planned it like this.
"You said that," Mel rebutted, all the stress dropping out of her body at once. "You... you served him papers, he's been living alone for the last six months, I don't..."
"Oh, please." Abby waved a hand as if she could clear the air of that accusation. "It's part of our process. I threaten divorce, he makes changes, we get back together."
Mel frowned and tilted her head to the side, her expression creasing in a way that made Abby suddenly feel like a patient. Unease wormed its way through her body, clenching around her heart.
"Did you... did you think he was just going to keep coming back if you did that?" Mel asked, her tone almost gentle, and Abby really would've rather she screamed. "I mean this with all the respect in the world, truly, I'd never... I would never come between someone and their family, but he's..." She bit her lip again like she wasn't sure she should continue. "He has a lawyer, Abby. We - he - "
Abby became dizzy, the words swimming in one ear and out the other, triggering a terrible case of vertigo. They'd been playing this game for almost a year, she and Frank, and she knew she'd been skating on thin ice - you can only push a man so far, her mother had said, which really should've been a warning sign; Nina had been the one most adamantly against Abby trying to make it work at the beginning - but there wasn't a world in which she actually thought she and Frank would get divorced. It was just part of his repentance, this back-and-forth. She wasn't serious.
But he was, apparently. In the months he'd been out of the house, he'd drifted so far from her that she hadn't even realized he'd washed ashore on another island altogether.
"Abby?" Mel asked, taking a step forward with an outstretched hand, like she was worried.
Fucking Christ.
Without a word, Abby stormed out of the room. She wished the hospital doors weren't designed to be so fucking quiet, because she wanted something to bang, glass to crack beneath her feet, Mel King's stupid empathetic eyes to disintegrate back into fear.
When she got back outside, she barreled to her car. The leather seats stung her skin when she sat down. She stared at the bright red EMERGENCY DEPARTMENT sign as she waited for her heart rate to steady, her wedding ring glinting in the mid-summer sun.
Yes, Abby decided. She really fucking hated hospitals.
3.8K words | mature
sexuality crisis | arguing and making up | developing relationship | feelings realization | idiots in love | relationship negotiation via passive aggressive cake
Cake or Death [on AO3]
Eddie's phone vibrates in his pocket as he's unlocking his front door. He doesn't check it right away, because there's an anxious pit in his stomach at the sound of his text notification and has been for the past week, even though Buck hasn't actually texted him since Wednesday. It's Friday now, his Kelly day, and he's stepping through his own front door at ten-fifteen in the morning with a bag of groceries in his hand and nothing planned while Chris is at school but to marinate the chicken he just bought and do a load of laundry and maybe take a nap and absolutely not agonize over the chain of unanswered texts sitting in his phone like a silent accusation.
He takes his shoes off, lines them up on the rack, sets the grocery bag down, locks the door behind him. His phone vibrates again. Eddie finally pulls it out of his pocket, reminding himself that people other than Buck text him and he can't just become a hermit until his next shift, tempting as it is. It could be one of the guys on his basketball team. It could be Hen, or Chim, or even Pepa, who prefers to call but has been known to text him screenshots of upbeat inspirational posts she finds on Facebook.
It's Buck, though. Of course it is. Eddie looks at the preview of the most recent message, which just says, enjoy :), and then sighs and opens up their text chain even though Buck will know he's seen it and not replied just like he has every message since the one he got at 8:13 last Thursday morning asking, hey, where'd u go?
inspired by @miracle-and-wonder’s pregnant!mel head canon
“Frank. Hey, Frank.”
Yawning, Frank cracked an eye open and looked over towards the window, where the purple-gray light of dawn was spilling in. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, rolling over and pulling his wife into his arms. His hand slid over her bump, and he smiled into the back of her neck.
“No way, sweetheart,” he grumbled. “It’s early. We both have the day off. It’s not awake time yet.” They didn’t have Tanner and Penny that week, and the only thing they really had to do was set up some things in the nursery. As Mel’s due date was still four months off, though, they had time.
“But I’m hungry.”
That sentence was definitely enough to wake Frank up. He lifted his head, peering down at Mel. She wasn’t wearing her glasses yet and the t-shirt she had stolen from him, still big on her despite being five months pregnant, was slipping off her shoulder. She looked gorgeous.
“For what, baby?” Frank asked as he brushed some of her loose, blonde hair out of her face.
Leaning into his touch, Mel made a happy humming sound. “Egg salad.”
Eyes wide, Frank tugged on Mel’s hip until she rolled beneath him. “Egg salad?” he repeated. “Mel, you hate eggs.”
Mel’s lip jutted out in a little pout, and it was so cute that Frank couldn't help but lean over to kiss it away. He felt her smiling against his lips, and he broke the kiss to press his lips to the tip of her nose. She let out a soft little laugh, reaching up to run her hand through his messy hair.
“The baby wants egg salad,” she said with a touch of confusion.
It was something that Frank was constantly endeared by. They were both doctors and knew all about pregnancy and cravings and the things that changed a woman’s body. As Mel experienced it all first hand for herself, she was amazed and almost mystified by her own reactions to it. She liked that there was almost always a way to solve her problem (although they hadn’t yet figured out why she cried about cleaning commercials, or what they could do to stop it). She viewed her cravings like a puzzle, journaling each one as if she could figure them out.
Frank kissed her again and then leaned over to lift her (his) t-shirt and kiss her belly. “Well if the baby wants egg salad, then the baby is going to get egg salad.”
Rolling out of bed, Frank pulled on a plaid pair of pajama pants over his boxer briefs but decided to go sans t-shirt. Based on the appreciative look Mel gave him, he knew that he made the right choice. He stretched, groaning as his back popped, and then ran a hand through his hair. If he played his cards right, they wouldn’t be leaving the house at all today. There were much more fun… and pleasurable… things they could get up to on their day off.
Mel tossed back the sheets and began to get out of bed as well, which made Frank frown. “Mel, I’ve got it. You can sleep a little longer if you want to, baby.”
He was typically the cook in the family, but it wasn’t as though Mel couldn't do it. Mel had a few go-to dishes with all of her safe foods that she cooked, and she preferred baking—given how exact it was—over anything else. Frank didn’t mind being the one to do the majority of the cooking.
“You know I like watching you in the kitchen,” Mel said. It was her turn to stretch now, and the hem of her t-shirt rode up, revealing her cute white panties and her rounded belly. She slid her hand over her stomach, cradling their unborn child. Jesus Christ, Frank was so in love with her that it made him feel stupid, sometimes. But in the best possible way.
That was another reason Frank never minded cooking. How could he, when the love of his life told him she liked watching him do it? What an easy thing he could do, just to make her happy. It was especially fun when they could cook together. It often turned into foreplay (which they were at least able to rein in when the kids were around).
“Well okay, then.” Meeting Mel at the door, Frank drew her close to press a kiss to her temple. “Let’s get cooking.”
Half an hour later, Frank had perfectly seasoned egg salad spread out on a slice of toasted sourdough on a plate for Mel. He slid it towards her and Mel happily tucked in, making it one of the funniest faces he’d ever seen in his life as she bit into it.
Frank knew it was good, having taste-tested it multiple times himself. Still, he asked, “Is it okay, Mel? Does it need more dill?” She loved dill.
Chewing thoughtfully, Mel eventually shook her head. “No, it’s delicious,” she finally decided. “Perfect, really. I just don’t know how I can think it’s so good but hate the texture at the same time.”
“Oh. Okay.” Frank was very confused by that statement. “Do you… should I make something else?”
Mel gave him a bright smile and leaned over to kiss him. “Oh, no, this is exactly what I want! Have you ever liked to eat something even though it felt weird in your mouth?”
He knew he could make a dirty joke here, but there was a time and a place for that. “Yeah, baby.” Frank felt that way about coconut, honestly. Tanner loved it, though, so they kept dried and sweetened coconut chips in the house.
In the end, Mel had seconds of the egg salad. Frank considered it to be a win.
“Frank?”
“Yeah, sweetheart?”
“The baby wants peanut butter cups.”
“The baby wants what?” Frank lifted his head from the book of crosswords he was working on to find Mel sitting in the corner of the couch with her hands on her belly, watching him expectantly. “Mel, I distinctly remember you telling me that you couldn’t stand the thought of peanut butter and chocolate together when we first started dating.”
“That was almost three years ago.”
“So?” Frank vividly remembered it, because peanut butter and chocolate was one of his favorite combinations, and he couldn’t fathom the fact that Mel didn’t like it. When she revealed that she preferred strawberry and chocolate instead, which Frank fully admitted he wasn’t a fan of. It made splitting boxes of discounted chocolate after Valentine’s Day very easy, though. “I remember everything about you.”
Mel perked up immediately at that, leaning forward with interest. “Everything?”
“I’d like to think so.” From that very first day, he remembered the way her eyebrows scrunched when she was trying to understand a joke he told. The way she lit up under his praise. The way that she so effortlessly cared for others.
There were other things he remembered too, of course. Mel needed at least twenty minutes after waking up before she was a functioning person. She did like coffee, as long as it didn’t actually taste like coffee—it needed to have so much cream and sugar in it that it was more dessert than anything else. When it was warm out, she loved to lay out in the grass in the backyard, despite the fact that she normally had to take at least two allergy pills to make up for it. If given the choice, Mel preferred watching a Disney movie after a rough shift over a reality show or a sitcom.
Frank collected all of these facts about Mel, filing them away like he knew she did for him. There was a reason he also had fresh crossword books to do when he was on break, the hammock in the backyard had an extra pillow to support his back, and the pantry was stacked with peanut butter cups despite the fact that Mel couldn't stand them.
“What brought on this particular craving?” Frank asked.
Mel shrugged her shoulders as she extended her legs, her heels pressing into Frank’s thigh. He drew both of her feet into his lap, one big hand covering her ankles to keep her there. She looked up at him, then stared down at her hands as she twisted her silver wedding band around her finger. Frank lightly jostled her ankles, encouraging her to answer his question.
“You kissed me after you put Tanner and Penny down for bed,” Mel finally explained. “I could smell the peanut butter and chocolate and I… the baby really wanted some.”
“Right.” Frank managed to bite back his chuckle just in time. Her sense of smell was much more intense with the pregnancy. He ran one palm over the arches of her feet, lightly massaging, and then slipped out from under them. “Give me a few seconds, baby. I’ll get them for you.”
“With whipped cream on top?” Mel asked, brightening once again now that her craving was going to be meant.
“With… what?” That wasn’t generally how people ate peanut butter cups, but who was he to judge?
“I’d like them in a bowl with whipped cream on top,” Mel said primly.
This time, Frank couldn't hold back his laughter. She was just too damned cute. “Right, with whipped cream on top.” He leaned over to drop a quick kiss to her lips. “Coming right up.”
“Oh, yes. Yes.” Mel threw her head back, reaching up to grasp the wooden slats of their headboard. She had pillows stacked under her hips to support her, aided by Frank’s big hands wrapped around her waist as he thrust into her. Mel’s thighs widened and she groaned at the stretch, both from her own body and from the way Frank was moving inside of her.
He slid one hand down the lush line of her thigh, shifting it higher on his hip as he drove deep and held himself still, grinding against her. “You feel that, baby?”
Mel moaned and nodded, moving her hands down to grab at the pillow under her head. She needed something to hold on to and Frank was just out of reach, holding himself over her so he could watch the way he moved inside her. He didn’t move the way she wanted him to, instead grinding against her just enough to tease her. He wanted her to say it.
“Yes,” Mel gasped as she ran her foot up the back of his muscular thigh. “Yes, I feel it. God, please, Frank, move…”
Thankfully, that was all Frank needed. He started thrusting again, holding Mel steady against him with his hand wrapped around her thigh. She squirmed beneath him, reaching up to grab onto his forearms, hands running up until she could curl them into his biceps.
“It’s all for you,” he told her, which made Mel moan appreciatively. She covered her breasts with one hand, toying with a nipple in a way that made Frank groan and fall forward. He pressed hot kisses into the arch of her neck, his teeth scraping against her pulse point.
And then his hand was sliding between her legs, his fingers passing over her clit. She was so sensitive, so keyed up, that it was easy for Mel to tumble over into her orgasm. All she heard was Frank chanting her name in her ear and the hot, wet pulsing between her legs, and she knew that he went over the second she had.
Frank took a few moments to help Mel get situated, wiping tenderly between her thighs and helping her re-stack the pillows so she was more comfortable. She instantly dozed off, arms stretched above her head as she surrendered to exhausted pleasure. Frank allowed himself to indulge in watching her, loving how free she allowed herself to be like this.
Mel was all soft curves and supple lines. Frank loved getting to watch her body change and often measured the way her stomach expanded with his hands. He did it every day if he could get away with it, and Mel smiled softly down at him each time.
Finished with his study of Mel, Frank drew her into his arms and curled himself around as he closed his eyes, preparing himself for an impromptu mid-day nap. He was going to have to send cookies to whoever kept scheduling him and Mel for the same days off.
“Mmm, Frank. Can we have some of that asparagus salad?”
Without opening his eyes, Frank kissed the back of Mel’s shoulder. “Didn’t I just fuck you to sleep?”
“You did!” Mel agreed cheerfully. She turned, wiggling around in his arms until she could rub her nose against his cheek. “I only needed a few minutes. I’m hungry, now. And the baby wants the asparagus salad.”
Frank yawned and opened his eyes, leaning over to kiss Mel on the lips. “Okay, okay. I’ll feed you, you menace.”
Mel laughed out loud at that, reaching up to cup Frank’s face in both of her hands to draw him back down to her, kissing him again. Her tongue slipped into his mouth and her thigh slid over his hip again, pulling him close to her until there was no space left between their bodies. Frank grunted as he felt her hands move all over him, coming down to rest on his ass as she held him tight against her.
“Sweetheart, I thought you were hungry.” Not that Frank had any problem with staying in bed with Mel. She regularly slept a full seven hours a night, now. Frank was still working on that last one.
“I am hungry,” Mel murmured against his lips. She dragged her teeth over his bottom lip, gasping as her breasts rubbed against his chest. “But we can get up in a minute.”
Mel and Frank rolled around in bed for another half an hour, kissing and grinding and touching until she decided she wanted food more than anything else. They barely got dressed—Frank, in just a pair of boxer briefs and Mel, in one of t-shirts—before they made their way down the stairs and into the kitchen. Frank pulled out a large bowl of the spring salad he’d prepared two nights ago: asparagus, peas, green onion, radishes, arugula, feta cheese, and mint, all topped with a lemon vinaigrette.
With each new craving Mel had, Frank enjoyed coming up with a recipe for it. She told him that maybe she would like more vegetables if they were all crisp like this, instead of slimy and limp. Frank took it as another win.
“Hmmm, okay.” With both hands resting on her ever-expanding belly, Mel directed Frank as he loaded up both of their plates. “The baby wants some potato salad. And some macaroni and cheese. And two sliders, with extra pickles on them.”
Frank dutifully filled her plate with everything she wanted. He grabbed bottles of water for both of them and double checked on Tanner and Penny, who were happily eating hotdogs with Harrison. Ellis, who was nearby, promised to keep an eye on all of them.
They were at PTMC’s annual start-of-summer cookout. Mel was seven months pregnant and was absolutely glowing, even when she complained that she couldn’t see her feet anymore, because “your baby is so gigantic, Frank.” Frank was endlessly impressed with how easily Mel still moved around at work. Of course she made being pregnant look easy, even though it definitely wasn’t. Mel claimed that it helped to have him support her. If nothing else, Frank was glad that he was able to bring some comfort to Mel.
Frank waved at Cassie and Mohan, nodded at Robby, Abbot, and Dana, and called hello to Donnie and his family. He delivered the food and drinks to the table Mel found, leaning over to drop a kiss to her temple.
“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” he asked.
Mel speared her fork into the potato salad and chewed thoughtfully. “Good,” she finally decided. “A little tired. The baby keeps kicking this one spot—ow. Okay.” She rubbed a soothing palm under the left side of her ribs. “Yeah, I get it. Could you give me a break, please?”
“Hey, peanut.” Frank ducked down low, speaking directly to Mel’s belly. “Cut your mom some slack, okay? It’s a lot of work, growing you.”
The kicking stopped instantly, and Mel let out a sigh of relief as she slumped back in her chair. “How do you do that? It’s kind of crazy how the baby responds to your voice.”
It thrilled Frank every single time. He shrugged his shoulders, digging into his own meal. He knew that once they ate, they wouldn’t be much longer for the cookout. The closer Mel got to her due date, the more she slept. And they were going to have to get Tanner and Penny back to Abby, soon. It wasn’t Frank and Mel’s week with them, but Abby had been nice enough to let them take the kids so they could all go to the PTMC cookout.
“I was really hoping the baby would calm down once I had some more pickles.” Mel plucked two off the slider and popped them into her mouth. “But sometimes I think the heartburn makes the baby kick more.”
“You know…” Frank extended his leg, hooking his ankle around Mel’s. She smiled and rubbed her foot against his. “You don’t have to say that the baby wants whatever food you’re craving. You can just… want it.”
Fiddling with her fork, Mel stared down at her plate. “I know that,” she finally said. “I guess I just… I hadn’t expected my taste to change so much with pregnancy. Things taste different. And I know it might change again.”
It wasn’t really surprising that this was one of the things Mel struggled the most with during preganncy. It was this, and sleep. Slowly but surely, both things were getting better. Every single tip and trick they picked up during this time was only going to help them once the baby was born, and their schedules were upended again.
“Well, I think it’s great if the baby wants something,” Frank said cheerfully. “And it’s even better if you want it, too. Either way, I’ll make sure you both get it.”
Mel gave Frank a beaming smile and she leaned forward, grabbing on to the collar of his shirt so she could haul him towards her. “Thank you,” she murmured right before she kissed him. WHen their lips parted, she pressed her forehead to his. “I love you.”
Frank kissed the corner of Mel’s smile, sliding his hand over their baby. “Love you, too.”
mel king x frank langdon | 1k | happy belated mother's day ❤️
She's exhausted down to her core. It's a strange sensation, almost out-of-body: she is both more sore than she's ever been and yet lighter than she's felt in months; her brain hasn't stopped buzzing with anticipation even as her eyes burn from broken, fragmented sleep. Her years working in a hospital, and her time as an advocate for her mother and sister, made her think she'd be prepared for being a patient herself, but it was far more overwhelming than she'd anticipated. The constant pestering of the nurses and residents and attendings: just need to check vitals; oh, sorry for waking you, but it's time for baby to eat; okay, Mom, you mind if I steal her for a bit so we can give her a bath. The impersonality of the experience as she was poked and prodded and given the bare minimum amount of information, no matter how many times she or Frank asked. The moment the car door closed, Mel had taken her first deep breath in forty-eight hours.
And even though she had nine months to prepare, there was something mentally jarring about realizing that she was going to go from pregnancy to a baby. It sounded silly when she thought about it, but for so long, it all seemed rather amorphous to her. Even when she went in for ultrasounds or felt the baby kick, it felt like two different things to her.
Now, Mel glances over to the scrunched bundle in the car seat beside her.
Real. Alive. Hers.
Emma squeaks as if in acknowledgment, which makes Mel smile. Everyone warned her about how noisy newborns could be, but she still wasn't prepared for it, just how constant and unpredictable and loud her daughter could be. (That might be my fault, Frank said with that same watery, disbelieving smile he'd worn since he'd first heard the baby cry, and Mel had bitten her tongue, even though she agreed. He'd once told her that Penny hadn't been silent more than thirty seconds since she was born.) There were moments where those sounds were terrifying - why did they sound like they couldn't breathe half the time? - but it was mostly just overwhelmingly wonderful, like her baby was fighting as hard as she could to express her joy at being with them.
Mel reaches over and offers her index finger, smiling when Emma's tiny hand immediately clenches around it. The baby's eyes are still closed, but she offers a little stuttering sigh, wiggling around in her seat as she fights to get comfortable.
"You okay?"
Looking up, Mel meets Frank's gaze in the rearview mirror. His concern is etched in the creases of his eyes, though she can tell he's working hard to try and hide it. That, too, makes her smile.
"We have a baby," she says for the tenth time. It still doesn't feel real. She keeps waiting for someone to tell her it's all some evil practical joke, or something.
Frank smiles, his whole face collapsing into softness. "We do," he replies, gentle. Reaching behind him, he wraps a hand around her calf, squeezing once. "I'm so proud of you."
Mel bites down on her smile and shifts her eyes back to their daughter. It's still hard for her, sometimes, seeing the full breadth of his love. It still feels like something she doesn't quite deserve.
When he squeezed again, she sighs. "Thank you," she murmurs.
"There you go."
The light turns green. Frank eases off the brake and continues guiding them home, though he doesn't remove his hand. They make a funny little chain, she realizes, all three of them connected by touch. For the vast majority of her life, Mel has shied away from physical affection.
How things change.
"Have you talked to the kids?" she asks.
"Yeah. They're excited. Abby said she can bring them by when we're up for it."
"That's nice," Mel replies vaguely, striving for passive sincerity, though Frank sees right through it. Coughing out a laugh, he rubs the pad of his thumb along her skin.
"Very," he agrees, winking at her when she meets his eyes again.
They are both quiet as they make their way home. Everything feels gauzy and unreal; it is a Tuesday morning, and Mel is dimly aware that people are going to work and grocery shopping and dropping their kids off at school and doing a dozen other mundane activities, and yet here she is, her entire heart severed irrevocably and placed into this new, little body.
Her daughter. Did she ever think this would happen? Really? She'd dreamed about it, of course, but in the same sort of faraway manner a child dreams of becoming a princess. There had been a time when she'd resigned herself to being alone forever, to watching the people in her life move on and find others to spend their lives with as she observed on the sidelines.
Strange, how that has become the impossible, now.
She knows they are approaching the house before she sees it. Muscle memory. When Frank parks, she tenses, a sudden fear wrapping itself around each of her limbs, gluing her in place.
"Hey," he says quietly. When she doesn't reply, he unbuckles and twists in his seat, both hands coming up to rest on her thighs. "Baby."
Mel chews on the chapped skin of her lip. Tears well up, unbidden, and she knows this will be her new normal for the next indefinite number of weeks, but she already finds herself frustrated by the volatility of her own emotions.
"What if I'm bad at it?" she asks suddenly, the words coming out a little choked. "What if I mess up or hurt her or say something wrong or - "
"Being a parent doesn't mean you aren't a person anymore." She glances up at him, and he smiles. "We all fuck up. It's part of the process. But you're not doing any of it alone." He squeezes once, his voice turning teasing as he adds, "We get to mess up together. Isn't that fun?"
Mel's laugh is watery, and she reaches her free hand forward until he takes it, their fingers knotted uncomfortably. Emma whimpers as if in agreement, and they both laugh this time, and Mel feels like her organs are living outside her body, her soul tender and delicate and stronger than it has ever been.
Hi! Congrats on the follow count! If you’re still taking prompts, I’d love to see Mel and Frank getting caught having an affair by someone important at the pitt? (Dana, Robby, Abbott, Santos etc) and the fallout of that? I feel like they are only ever caught by Abby herself, or Whitaker/Samira in most fics.
If this one doesn’t speak to you, I’m also a sucker for the pitt finding out Mel is pregnant.
Either way, congratulations!!! 🌻
teen | established relationship | 2k words
cw: infidelity, frank and abby’s fail marriage, discussion of abby playing as much of a part in the end of their relationship as frank
I knew from the moment I got this ask I wanted dana to be the one to find them, and I was encouraged when I saw some posts/discussions floating around about how dana might treat mel once her and frank’s relationship was discovered!
Carpooling with Mel had become one of Frank’s favorite ways to start his day.
It started six months ago, first sporadically, and then with more regularity. Mel didn’t live far from the hospital, but traffic wasn’t always the best, so he could count on at least twenty to thirty minutes of uninterrupted Mel time when they worked together.
There were some other perks to carpooling, as well.
“Mel, Mel, Mel.” Laughing, Frank pulled her to a stop in the ambulance bay. He glanced around quickly and then tugged her aside, behind one of the columns. “Hang on a second.”
“Frank!” Mel grinned up at him but didn’t try to pull away or otherwise admonish him. In fact, she lifted her chin up, like she was inviting him. It was an invitation that Frank happily accepted.
He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, rubbing his nose against hers before he kissed her. He didn’t mean to deepen it and get carried away, but she was just so cute and he couldn’t help himself. They normally saved their more intimate farewells for the car, but Mel had been so excited to tell him about a three-part documentary she watched on notable women from the 17th century over the weekend. Mel had been so excited to talk in the car that he couldn’t find it within himself to interrupt her, deciding that it was worth the risk to sneak a kiss outside the hospital instead.
Mel stretched up on her tiptoes, throwing her arms around Frank’s neck to hold him close as her lips opened beneath his. He groaned into her mouth, hands tightening on her hips.
They could be a few minutes late.
Dana Evans had been disappointed a lot of times in her life. She felt that feeling both personally and professionally. She’d seen many residents come and go, had doctors who decided to stay and make their careers at PTMC. She didn’t remember it feeling quite like this, though.
“Langdon, can I talk to you for a minute?”
Langdon looked up from the tablet in his hands and arched an eyebrow at Dana. When she tilted her head towards the ambulance bay doors instead of explaining, he shrugged and set the tablet back on the charging dock.
Dana didn’t bother to check and see if he was following her as she went outside. She took a pack of cigarettes from her pocket, slid one out, and tucked it between her lips. She offered the pack to Langdon with an arched eyebrow. After that first day back, he smoked like a chimney. A few months later, he switched to Zyns, and he’d even stopped using that as much.
He hesitated before sliding a cigarette out. Dana lit hers and took a long drag before holding out her lighter to Langdon. He stared at that as well before he shook his head slightly, choosing instead to fiddle the cigarette instead of actually smoking it.
“I thought you said Abby didn’t mind you smoking,”
Dana said, well aware that her tone was already accusing. That wasn’t exactly how she wanted to start the conversation, but it was what it was.
Langdon flipped the cigarette over between his fingers a few times before he eventually tucked it behind his ear. “She doesn’t.” He tucked his hands into his pockets and shrugged. “I have other reasons for wanting to quit, though.”
“Right.” The thing was, Dana had absolutely no idea how to approach this. She used to know how to talk to Langdon, she thought. She was even pretty sure she had it handled after he came back. Six months out from his return, she wasn’t so sure.
Langdon’s eyebrows went up as Dana remained silent, smoking her cigarette. “Dana, was there something—”
Dana decided to just go for it. “I saw you with Mel.” When Langdon didn’t have an immediate reaction to that, she added, “This morning.”
He had a really good poker face, she had to give him that. The only thing that really would have given him away was the slight tightening around his eyes. Otherwise, his face didn’t change.
“Okay. And?”
Dana knew what he was getting at. Whenever they had the same shift (which was frequent), they could often be seen together. They chatted in between cases or took breaks together. Langdon was always after Mel to eat something or drink more water or sit down. Dana had even seen Mel ask Langdon about his back, and she seemed to be the only one who could do it without him getting weird about it. And while they continued to work cases together, it didn’t seem to be anymore than usual. No, it was those smaller, quiet moments that Dana had begun to notice.
“Langdon.” Dana shook her head and let the butt of her cigarette fall to the ground. She stepped on it, crushing it beneath the toe of her shoe. “I saw you.”
Langdon’s hands came out of his pockets and he crossed his arms over his chest, tucking his hands under his armpits. Dana caught the glint of his wedding ring before he hid it away. It slid upwards, only just catching on his knuckle. It felt like a joke.
“Ah.”
Dana felt like she could throttle him, but she settled for yanking the cigarette out from behind his ear and lifting it to her mouth instead, quickly lighting it. “That’s all you have to say?”
He sighed, like she was making a big deal out of nothing. “Yeah, Dana. What do you want me to say?”
“Oh, I don’t know!” Dana threw her hands up in the air, unable to help the way her voice rose. “Maybe that you’re ashamed of steppin’ out on your wife?”
Jaw clenching, Langdon remained infuriatingly silent. He stared out over the ambulance bay, towards the busy street. It was entirely too cold for them to be out there, but this conversation was too important for someone to overhear. And fuck it, if Langdon was uncomfortable in the cold. In Dana’s opinion, he deserved it.
“Honestly, Dana, I really don’t think it’s any of your business.” Langdon was so calm, almost stupidly so. It was absolutely ridiculous and only served to inflame Dana’s anger even further.
“The hell it isn’t!” She stepped closer, shoving her index finger into his chest. “Abby’s a good girl, Langdon! A good wife and mother! She stayed!”
That, finally, seemed to get a reaction out of Langdon. “Yeah, well, maybe she shouldn’t have!”
A shocked silence fell between them. Dana couldn’t believe he said that, and Langdon seemed to be in shock that those words actually came out of his mouth. His arms dropped to his sides, hands clenched into fists.
“Of course she’s a good mother,” Langdon said. “Tanner and Penny are the best things we’ve ever done. But it’s not… Dana, she stayed because she didn’t want to be the woman who left the drug addict when he needed help the most.” He snorted, his hands tightening so much that his knuckles turned white.
“I don’t believe that,” Dana insisted. She knew Abby’s family. They’d gone to the same church that hers did. She watched the girl grow up. Pretty, well-liked, smart, and ambitious. Abby’s whole family was like that.
“You don’t know everything about our family,” Langdon snapped. He took a deep breath, trying again. “You don’t know everything about what’s been going on between me and Abby, either.”
“Well yeah, with rehab, and everything—”
“No, Dana. It was going on before that. A long time before that.” Langdon forced his hands to relax, uncurling his fingers one by one. “Things haven’t been good for a very long time.”
Dana thought of all the times she’d seen the Langdon family at various PTMC events. They even held a summer cookout at their place, not long before that September shift that changed everything. They looked like the perfect family, all of them in the color-coordinating outfits and the sweet way they both were with their kids. Dana knew that all couples had trouble at some point, but Langdon and Abby really seemed to present with a united front.
“But last year, at your cookout… and the holiday party? The PTMC fundraiser?”
“Jesus Christ, Dana.”
Langdon huffed, taking a moment to collect himself. Dana reached up and gripped the cross around her neck. Seeing that, Langdon eyed her warily.
“We lied, okay?” His voice was gentle, almost like he was trying to reassure Dana in some weird way. “It’s not like we wanted everyone to know that we had a screaming fight right before guests started to arrive.” He let out a dry chuckle. “Fuck, I don’t even remember what it was about, now.”
Dana truly didn’t know what to make of what she was hearing. “What about counseling?” she suggested, even though she knew she had absolutely no business inserting herself into Langdon and Abby’s relationship.
“We tried that. It only made certain things more obvious. Well to me, anyway.” He spoke matter-of-factly, like his mind was already made up.
Deciding that taking a different approach might be better, Dana said, “What about Mel?”
Langdon’s voice was sharp again, his brow furrowing darkly. “What about her?”
“You’re pulling her into this mess? You’re getting her involved in all of this?” Dana didn’t even know how to process the fact that Mel was on the other side of this, engaging in an affair. That was something she was going to have to think about later. “She’s a sweet girl.”
“She’s not a girl,” Langdon stated firmly. He drew himself up to his full height, no longer looking tired. “We both know exactly what we’re doing.”
“But your kids—”
“Dana. Don’t. I will handle my kids. We’ll get through the divorce first, and I will teach them not to be afraid to leave a situation they’re no longer happy in. That they don’t have to stay, just because it’s what’s expected. And I hope one day, they’ll be able to understand that there are some unexpected paths to get to where you’re supposed to be. Mel will be there to help me explain it.”
Langdon spoke as if it was a foregone conclusion that he was going to end up with Mel and they were going to spend the rest of their lives together. There was a certain kind of peace on his face as he spoke about his future with Mel—one that Dana wasn’t sure she’d ever seen from him before. She deflated, feeling suddenly as if she was about to cry. She dropped her second cigarette to the ground watching as it burned away and eventually flickered out in the melting snow.
“Do I wish our timing was better?” Langdon said quietly. “Of course I do. But I can’t… I’ll never regret Mel. I’m pretty sure I started falling in love with her on that first day.” He chuckled, and this time it was light. His half-smile somehow lit up his whole face. “I just didn’t know it yet.”
“But…” Still, Dana felt like she had to try one more time. She didn’t even know why she was bothering. “Abby stayed.”
“Yeah, well…” Langdon gave her a meaningful look, his words deliberate. “Ten months is a long time to be alone with your thoughts.”
Now, what he said on that first day back made a lot more sense, in a way that Dana was wholly uncomfortable with. It made even more sense in this moment, with Dana now knowing what was going on between Langdon and Mel.
And there wasn’t much more that Dana could say to that. She didn’t offer a farewell as she left Langdon standing in the ambulance bay. She pushed aside their conversation, compartmentalizing as best as she could. She made a concentrated effort not to watch Langdon and Mel anymore, feeling as though she was somehow complicit in the affair. And still, she couldn’t help but notice the way they seemed to orbit one another. How they smiled at each other. How they checked in with small glances across the room. It was startlingly intimate, and they were just doing it in front of everyone.
Later that night, Dana watched as Langdon and Mel walked out of the pitt together. Langdon ducked down, murmuring something in Mel’s ear. She looked up at him, smiling softly, and touched his arm. The tension seems to seep out of Langdon, his shoulders relaxing.
Well, Dana thought. Maybe she didn’t know everything after all.
A lil Mother's Day Kingdon oneshot.
TW for the mention of Mel and Becca's late mother.
Mel always wakes up before Frank, even when she tries very hard not to.
She slips out of bed, slowly, careful while she shifts her weight along the mattress. Frank mumbles, reaching blindly under the covers, then turns over.
She waits until his breathing evens out, smiles to herself about how broad his shoulders are, then makes her way to the bathroom. When she’s just about to cross the threshold into the kitchen, she sees it.
There, on the round wooden table, sits a bouquet of flowers in a vase. It’s a beautiful mix, in some peachy pastels and vibrant purples; roses, carnations, and asters. Pale dusty millers’ leaves and something variegated that she doesn’t quite recognize. Mel makes a note to grab her phone later and use the flora-IDing app Santos had told her about.
Beside the vase is an envelope that reads ‘Melissa’ in slanted handwriting she’s all-too-familiar with and a small folded sheet of lavender construction paper, also bearing her name, but it’s written twice. Once in a more concise scribble, and again in a scribble that’s less-legible.
She pulls out a chair and sits half-crosslegged on the cushion. She just stares, maybe a little too long, before she decides on opening the envelope first.
She adjusts her glasses and reads.
Mel,
Hi, sweetheart. I know you’re probably sitting weird while you’re reading this.
She smiles.
I know this day is hard for you and Becca, too. Originally, Abby had asked me to invite you to her place for brunch, but it was such short notice, and we hadn’t really talked about our plans today. I asked Becca what you both usually do today and she told me you like to look at old family photos and order takeout. She also told me if the weather’s nice, you’ll go for a walk together, and talk about your memories with your mom. I know Zamboni could always use some extra walks.
Mel glances up. The house is quiet. Even the dog is sleeping in.
I know this is your first Mother’s Day without Becca staying over, too. (It’s sweet she’s spending it with Adam and his mom.) I told Becca I'd take care of you. And I ended up telling Abby we were just gonna hang back for now and I hope it’s okay I made that call without presenting the case. I really want to hear about your mom, if you’re up for that. Whatever you want.
But because this is your first Mother’s Day as a Stepmom (the best ever, I’m told) the kids made you some gifts.
I love you,
So so so so so much,
F xo
That last part got a little blurry, so Mel wipes her eyes, pushing her glasses uncomfortably up the bridge of her nose while she does. She presses the card against her chest with a long, deep breath before placing it back on the table.
She reaches for the folded construction paper, momentarily startled by how heavy it feels, and lays it flat. There are three friendship bracelets taped to one side. She carefully removes them, reading each bead on each bracelet with an airy, out-of-body feeling she can’t quite place. Tanner, Penny, and Zamboni’s names.
There’s an ambitious and blocky drawing of Mel, which she recognizes as Tanner’s artistry. Above that, an angel flying in the clouds.
Her breath catches.
Mel,
This beautiful script is Abby’s handwriting, she realizes.
We love you and all that you do for us and our family. We would be lost without you and we’re thinking of you and Becca today. Happy Mother’s Day.
Love,
Penny, Tanner & Abby
(& Zamboni!!!)
“Morning,” Frank’s voice is low and gruff and Mel does her best to not get distracted by it. She likes his morning voice. A lot.
He shuffles into the kitchen, wearing only his sweatpants loose around his hips. Mel wants to tell him he shouldn’t be shirtless when she’s fighting back tears and feeling emotional, but she doesn’t mean that. Frank Langdon shirtless is, in fact, one of the best things ever. Offhandedly, she looks down at herself, content to be swimming in the exact t-shirt he’s missing.
“This is—” She starts, struggling to find her voice, embarrassed by how watery it already sounds. She doesn’t want to cry outright. It’s been years since she did that on Mother’s Day. It’s so tiring to cry on Mother’s Day, but this is so—
Frank pulls a chair close to hers and sits, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. He tugs her closer and she leans in, melting into his warmth, readily accepting the kisses he’s peppering along the crown of her head.
“I love you,” he murmurs, voice still gravely, still his morning voice, just for her.
She breathes in the scent of him, closing her eyes. “I love you, too.”
“And I know, like, it’s not— legally binding, uh—” Frank starts, “the Stepmom part. But it’s not yet, is all. You know that, right?”
Mel nods against his shoulder. She does.
“The flowers are beautiful.”
“Yeah?”
“Everything is. You’re beautiful. Your family is beautiful.”
“Our family, Mel.”
She cries then; the floodgates crack open like flimsy glass. She lets it exhaust her. She lets Frank pull her into his lap to hold her.
And later, while they walk Zamboni, she tells Frank about her mom.
The thing is, Eddie’s not small. He’s carried grown men bigger than him out of a burning building. He stands at six feet. He’s broad and large, and he knows that his stature was something the women he was with liked about him.
If you still take requests….. either Buck riding Eddie or Eddie riding Buck. I’m not picky (though if you decide on the latter I do need to see ass appreciation 🙂↕️)
hey, thank you nonnie! i suddenly had some inspiration for this today, hope you enjoy!
Rodeo [on AO3]
1.1K words | explicit
PWP | riding | anal sex | coming untouched | laughter during sex
-
“You’re distracting me,” Buck complains, like he wasn’t the one shoving his tongue down Eddie’s throat less than ten seconds ago.
“Oh, am I?” Eddie asks, breathless. “My bad.”
Buck slings a leg over to straddle him, a gorgeous expanse of bare skin, muscles and tattoos and disheveled hair, flushed cheeks and a broad, sunny smile. His cock kisses wetly against his stomach as he shifts. “Yeah, you are. I’m trying to ride your dick here.”
“Well, don’t let me stop you,” Eddie says, and slaps the side of Buck’s thigh lightly. “Go on, ride ‘em, cowboy.”
Buck collapses into helpless giggles on top of him, burying his face in Eddie’s neck, his breath coming in warm puffs of laughter. Eddie grins into his hair and lets him do it. It’s still novel in the best way to listen to Buck laugh while they’re tangled up naked together. Before this started between them, he’d kind of forgotten that sex could be fun.
“Now you’re just killing the mood on purpose,” Buck says, and bites the side of Eddie’s throat hard enough that it’s definitely going to leave a visible mark. Eddie jerks, his cock sliding up the groove of Buck’s thigh, and Buck smiles against his skin and does it again.
“Feels to me like the mood is doing just fine,” Eddie manages, sliding his hand down to where Buck’s cock is trapped between their bodies, thick and stiff and smearing wetness across Eddie’s skin.
“That’s just because I’m, like, super into you.”
“Hey, what do you know, the feeling’s mutual,” Eddie says, and turns his head to pull Buck into a kiss. He does get distracted with that for a little while. Buck’s mouth, Buck’s hands, the weight of his body and the heat of him and the way that despite his earlier complaining he kisses like there’s nothing on earth he’d rather be doing. Someday, maybe, Eddie will stop being completely overwhelmed by that, but it hasn’t happened yet.
Buck is single-minded when he’s on a mission and also kind of an overachiever when it comes to sex. It generally works out great for Eddie, and this time is no exception. Without breaking the kiss at all, he shifts up on his knees, reaching back to curl thick, slippery fingers around Eddie's cock and line them up. Eddie's hips buck involuntarily, and Buck hums against his mouth, a brief huff of laughter that slides into a low groan as he sinks down onto Eddie's cock, taking him to the root all at once.
He stays there for a moment, pinning Eddie in place, while Eddie gasps against his mouth and slides his palms up and down Buck's thighs, trying not to thrust up while Buck is still adjusting to it, though honestly he probably could. Buck likes it a little rough sometimes, he's learned. But right now, Buck's the one steering. Eddie could flip them over and take over, if he really wanted to but well—he doesn't want to.
Buck sighs shakily against his lips, then kisses him again, lazy and kind of sloppy, sliding his tongue into Eddie's mouth and moaning when he responds in kind. His hips are starting to move, slow little rocking motions as he grinds down on Eddie's cock, more indulgent than purposeful. He's so hot, so tight, so fucking heavy on top of Eddie, holding him easily down.
"Fuck," Eddie breathes, and Buck laughs and kisses his jaw, tilting forward a little more to nip sharply at his ear before sitting back on his heels.
He's not much of a dancer, Eddie knows, but in this he's always had a superior sense of rhythm. The long muscles in his thighs flex hypnotically as he moves, his cock bobbing thick and flushed and untouched between them, precome pooling on Eddie's abs and pubic hair. His mouth waters. When he finally manages to drag his eyes upward, Buck is grinning at him, flushed pink, mouth open and wet.
"Shut up," Eddie says, and Buck does laugh this time, breathless and thrilled. Eddie grabs at his thighs, pulling him down and grinding up, taking the reins for a moment before Buck pins his wrists in place and takes over again. He shifts, arching, and lets out a punched out moan when he gets the angle right. "Let me—"
"Just," Buck pants. His fingers are still digging into Eddie's wrists, holding his hands in place, and he works his hips faster now, chasing the sensation, his cock twitching and dripping as a flush spreads down his throat and heaving chest. "Ohfuck. I wanna, I wanna come like this, I wanna—"
"Yeah, shit, okay," Eddie breathes. He digs his fingers into Buck's thighs, holding as tight as he can. He's never—they've never— "Come on. Is it—does it feel good?"
Buck doesn't even laugh at him this time. He throws his head back instead, breathless, unselfconscious little whines and moans falling from his lips as he moves, and Eddie grips him tighter still, clinging to the edge, praying he can hold out long enough.
"It's so, fuck, Eddie, it's so good, feels so—feels so—you feel so good—" it breaks then, words devolving into a helpless, crackling moan as he clenches suddenly around Eddie's cock and comes, completely untouched, all over his abs and chest. Eddie lets him ride it out until he's limp and trembling, then grabs at him, hauling Buck down to bury his face in his throat as he thrusts up sharply a handful of times and comes. He feels Buck tremble as the wave of pleasure breaks, clenching weakly around him, dragging it out until Eddie feels nearly mindless with it.
They come down from it slowly, together. Eddie sank his teeth into Buck's shoulder at some point; he releases him with a muffled, "Sorry," and feels Buck's whole body tremble against him as he starts giggling.
Gradually, then unstick themselves. Buck shifts up until Eddie's cock slides out of him, but doesn't move other than that. Eddie runs a hand up his heaving, sweaty spine. "You good?"
"Give me a minute," Buck mumbles, his nose still buried in Eddie's throat. "I think my brain just leaked out my dick."
Eddie snickers into his hair. "Yeah?"
"Oh yeah." He lifts his head, finally, bracing his elbows on the pillow so he can grin at Eddie from inches away. He's right in kissing distance, so Eddie kisses him, and he kisses back, lazy and slow. "Ride of a lifetime."
"Did you know you could do that?"
"What, come untouched just on your cock?" Buck asks, and starts giggling again when Eddie's dick gives a hopeful, futile twitch between them. "Oh, you like that."
"Obviously I fucking liked it," Eddie mutters, shoving his burning face into Buck's shoulder.
"I liked it too," Buck says, like he's confessing a secret. Eddie can hear the laughter in his voice.
"You know, I had an inkling," he says, pulling Buck up into another kiss, and it's a while before they get around to moving.
Mel and Frank stared at each other, the air in the breakroom heavy and tense and somehow completely comfortable all at the same time. There was a weight to the space between them, and Mel knew that if she crossed it, something would change. She didn’t know what, exactly, and she wasn’t ready to name it anyway.
Frank came back. He was here. He saw her, and he listened to her, just like he had on that first day. That’s all Mel really cared about after the absolutely insane day she’d experienced. It wasn’t even over yet—there was charting to do, patients to hand off, messes from the day to clean up.
There were things to figure out. A quiet apartment to face. Interactions and words exchanged to go over and over again until they made sense in Mel’s mind. Maybe.
Yet here Frank was, offering Mel the one thing she hadn’t realized she needed.
Her first instinct was to gently brush it off, of course. She didn’t need a hug. She could handle what happened. She was a doctor and a caretaker and she’d been handling things since she was twenty years old.
And yet.
Frank offered to hug her and there was nothing Mel wanted more in that moment. There was so much she hadn’t let herself want, so much she’d thought about and pushed aside, and she’d been smacked in the face with that realization today. Mel was trying hard to push it down, given that she was still at work. It was easier to go after Frank and check in on him than it was to face her own feelings about the day
Frank saw right through her, as he always did. They hadn’t even known each other for a full twenty-four hours yet. He had this way of looking at her, though, a way of seeing right through her to the parts that she tried so hard to hide.
Even when he didn’t get right, he still tried. Mel couldn't remember the last time someone tried with her. Becca knew her, of course. Knew her and loved her and cared about her, because they were sisters. Mel thought they were best friends, too, and maybe they were. But maybe that meant something different to Becca than it did to Mel.
Having different priorities from people her age meant that Mel wasn’t involved with the same things as her peers. And for a long time, she had convinced herself that she was okay with that. She got to be a doctor, after all. That had been a risky choice to make, and it was one of the only times that Mel bet on herself. Most of the time, Mel believed she made the right decision.
It wasn’t any surprise that Mel questioned that path today. The deposition, Becca’s visit… it was a perfect storm designed to knock Mel off kilter. And there Frank was, checking in on her, sitting with her, giving her time. The least she could do was return the favor.
If he was offering a hug—an embrace, a connection—Mel certainly wasn’t going to turn it down. She wanted it. It felt good to finally let herself have something she wanted.
So she stood the same time Frank did, already moving towards him as he opened his arms. Mel tucked herself against his chest and immediately worried that it was too much, too soon, but Frank was already closing his arms around her, one hand on the small of her back to press her closer to him. The other came up to cup the back of her head, just like he had that morning.
Mel closed her eyes and linked her arms loosely around his waist, pressing her nose to his chest and inhaling. He smelled like hand sanitizer and sweat and something woodsy, a scent that didn’t overwhelm her nose or make her skin itchy. She was close enough to smell him. He was touching her. Mel felt like she had to pinch herself, just to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.
She didn’t. She breathed in again and felt Frank slide his arm around her waist, anchoring her to him with a hand on her hip. The hand on the back of her head slid down, tracing over the bumps of her braid. His fingers reached the end of her braid, toying with the band for a moment before he slowly moved his hand back up.
Frank kept up the soothing motion and Mel leaned further into him, the tension disappearing from her body until she was practically smushed up against him. As he moved up and down her braid, Mel could feel Frank working those long, dexterous fingers in between the plaits, massaging at the base of her skull and the back of her neck. Pressed up against him as she was, she could feel the tension leaving his body, until the only thing holding them up was each other.
She had no idea how long they were standing there, holding on to each other. How long they’d been in the breakroom while the rest of their coworkers tried to clean up the mess from PTMC’s cyberattack. And really, Mel didn’t care. She was grateful for the few peaceful minutes she got with Frank, and she wasn’t going to question the fact that she got to have this moment. Not after months of not knowing anything when it came to him.
Having Frank hold her against him like this, with his fingers in her braid and his heart beating under her ear, helped Mel to believe that it was all real. That she hadn’t imagined any of this. The tips of his fingers rubbed over the bumps at the top of her spine, curling through the loops of her hair. She rolled her forehead against his collar bone, marveling at the solid strength of his body against hers. He wouldn’t let her fall, she was sure of it.
Mel didn’t have to second guess the trust she placed in Frank. He’d already shown her that he deserved it. He’d shown her on that very first day.
She felt him clear his throat more than she heard it. He didn’t pull back, exactly, but he did tilt his head down so he could speak into her ear. His left hand remained tangled in her braid.
“Thanks, Mel.” His voice was a deep rumble in his chest, and Mel shivered as she felt it against her own. His arm tightened around her waist. “There’s… there’s more going on. It’s not just… this.”
Unwilling to pull away just yet, Mel instead titled her head up so she could see his face. He was looking down at her, his eyes so blue and intent on her face. “Okay.”
“I want to tell you,” he implored. He was begging her to understand, but there was a sadness there, one that told Mel he expected her to push him away. “I just…”
“Okay,” Mel repeated. “So you’ll tell me. When you’re ready.” He was back. They had time.
Frank stared down at her for another long moment before he nodded his head. “Right. Sure.” And then he was tugging her close to him, hugging her tightly for another beat before he took a deep breath and began to pull away.
He angled back, looking down so he could concentrate on working his long fingers free from her hair. The tips of his ears turned red and the flush worked its way down his neck when his ring got tangled. Mel reached up to help, but he made a noise in the back of his throat that made her still immediately.
Frank was achingly gentle as he carefully untangled her hair. Mel remained still, selfishly drinking him in. It was a treat to be able to watch him so closely, see him so focused on taking care of her.
Once she was free, Frank ran his hand over her braid. “I messed it up,” he murmured.
mel king x frank langdon | 5.6k | explicit | complete
“I really thought we could — right there, please, yes — be friends,” she keens, rocking into him.
He’s quick to nod, picking up speed.
“We can be friends. Oh, we can be friends, Mel. We can be anything you want,” Frank babbles into the skin of her cheek.
or: Mel and Frank and some post-shift fireworks ;)
“Frank, please,” she tries again, listening as he mumbles something down the line about where are my fucking shoes and Christ who left that chair there.
In any other situation, she would find his concern endearing and charming and all-around heartbreaking in a way that she should probably find the time and money to speak to a therapist about, but not tonight. Not right now.
“Please, I don’t want to cause a scene,” she whispers. “I don’t – I don’t want to answer questions.”
“I didn’t realize you had your ears pierced,” Mel says, voice louder than before and tinged with excitement at this new piece of him that she’s uncovered in a way that almost makes her cringe when she registers her words. “Sorry, that’s weird of me. I don’t mean that I should’ve realized before – not, not that I haven’t looked at you, because I have, of course I have, but it’s so small. I don’t think I’ve ever been this close to you.”
She needs to stop talking, that much she’s sure of.
or, the one where mel notices frank has his ears pierced
here on ao3
for the lovely, lovely abigail (@fellowshipincynicism) ✨
“Frank, please,” she tries again, listening as he mumbles something down the line about where are my fucking shoes and Christ who left that chair there.
In any other situation, she would find his concern endearing and charming and all-around heartbreaking in a way that she should probably find the time and money to speak to a therapist about, but not tonight. Not right now.
“Please, I don’t want to cause a scene,” she whispers. “I don’t – I don’t want to answer questions.”
