hall pass
mel/frank | 2,8k | ao3
happy birthday maria, i love you so much that i watched your gay/bi firefighter show. enjoy.
for @thatkingdon
‘So I told him to lay back down so I could actually look at the abscess, but the guy’s on his feet already yelling about how he doesn’t want me looking at his ass because he is gay but I’m not his type,’ Frank explained, shaking his head in amusement as he recounted the saga. He was leaning back against the nurses’ station, elbows resting on the desk as he stared wistfully at the ambulance bay doors.
The day had been… slow so far, and his fingers were starting to twitch at having nothing to do, desperate to wield a scalpel, forceps, even a fucking tongue depressor.
‘What did you do?’ Mel asked. She was propped against his side, her forearm slightly brushing his every time she shifted.
‘Well I considered paging Whitaker to make him do it—’
‘Frank…’ Her tone was flat, brow furrowed in warning.
‘Joke, Mel, even I’m not that mean,’ he chuckled, reaching out with his pinky finger to lightly touch the mole at the top of her arm right where the sleeve of her shirt ended. It was one of his favorite freckles, easy to access, but often covered at work when she wore the standard black ED scrubs. He doubted anyone else knew it was there, doubted they cared, honestly, but he knew. It felt like a piece of Mel he had all to himself whenever he wanted, just out of reach to others.
‘I told him I could get him another doctor,’ he continued, ‘but seeing as everyone else was busy, he’d be waiting a while, and then I reassured him that I do in fact have a beautiful girlfriend and I only have eyes for her ass, so he had nothing to worry about.’
‘Joke?’
Frank took a second to evaluate the questioning look in her eye and the straight line of her mouth before responding. ‘Uh. Yeah, sure.’
Frank was saved from any further questions about Mr Murphy’s rectal abscess by the sound of Robby clearing his voice in that awfully loud fashion that fathers over fifty seemed particularly adept at. He wondered how Robby had managed to perfect the behavior, but reasoned that corralling an ED full of doctors with ADHD had probably given him a similar life experience to raising at least a couple of rowdy teenagers.
‘Ah, Dr King,’ Robby said, peering down at her over the rim of his glasses. ‘Just the person I was looking for.’
‘Me?’ Mel responded, pointing to herself to confirm.
Robby nodded. ‘I have a patient I need a hand with in South 16, are you free?’
‘Sure,’ she said, her expression surprised. Robby spun on his heel, heading off without another word, Mel shooting a quick look at Frank before shrugging and tagging along behind him.
‘I’m free too!’ Frank called at their already retreating forms.
Robby didn’t bother turning back to deliver his response. ‘No thank you, Dr Langdon, we’ll be fine without you.’
The flow of the day didn’t pick up after lunch. Frank was genuinely starting to consider mentioning the q-word, if only to give himself something more fun to do than pick at the skin on the side of his thumb. He’d hit bone if someone didn’t have an emergency some time soon. Maybe if he did hit bone he’d at least have the excuse of treating himself to a couple of sutures.
He’d taken on a few patients since Mel had been stolen away by Robby: a 55 year old woman with an ankle sprain, a four year old with an earache who was totally inconsolable unless his mother played La Cucaracha on her phone at full volume, and a man who was experiencing shoulder pain after a recent dislocation. His boyfriend spent the consultation explaining that the patient had initially slipped on pumpkin guts last Halloween, and insisted on showing Frank more photos of them dressed as a cowboy and some kind of long-haired werewolf than was strictly necessary, but at least it passed the time.
The clock on the patient board ticked over to 2pm. The slow trickle of patients had helped, but he was still antsy. Wishing illness and injury on the people of Pittsburgh was perhaps slightly immoral, but he was just so bored.
By this time, the door to South 16 had been closed for hours, the curtain drawn to obscure the occupants from view. Even the board had minimal details: a 38 year old male John Doe presenting with an upper right leg lac, Mel’s name tagged onto the patient. Without even so much as the usual four letter name code to work off, Frank was stumped.
Uneasiness started to settle around him the longer he pondered the case. It couldn’t be someone Mel knew, or she wouldn’t be permitted to treat them— so why her of all people? Had someone requested a female doctor? Unlikely if it was a male patient in his 30s, and even so there was no way Robby would let Mel treat the man alone, especially not with the door closed and curtain drawn. And why had Robby been so adamant that Frank wasn’t to be involved?
Tensions had finally evened out between them since Frank’s return last July, mainly due to a staged intervention by Dana and Abbot to get Robby into actual therapy rather than fucking off on his motorcycle for 3 months. It still wasn’t like before (Frank didn’t kid himself, he knew it never would be), but Robby could finally stand being in the same room as him, and they even partook in small talk from time to time. Baby steps.
So when Robby’s attitude took a full 180 after handing the mystery case over to Mel, Frank started to panic. Robby was avoiding him in that painfully obvious way, ducking into rooms and pulling other members of staff for strategically timed catch ups each time Frank got a little too close.
It was only when he spotted the door to South 16 open and Mohan slipped out that Frank took his chance. She looked both ways before taking off towards the supply closet, her steps hurried, Frank following close behind. Just before she could disappear out of sight, he reached out, fingers tapping her shoulder. Mohan whirled around, eyes wide as one of her hands flew up to her chest.
Jumpy, Frank thought. Mohan could be skittish occasionally but she was typically pretty unshakeable. The faint ring of alarm bells grew louder.
‘God, you scared me, don’t do that,’ she gasped.
‘Sorry,’ he grimaced. ‘Can we talk?’ Frank hoped the desperation he could feel in his extremities wasn’t evident in his voice.
‘I’m really busy actually Langdon, I gotta—’
‘Please?’
She bit her lip before sighing and nodding towards the closet door.
They crowded in, Frank biting back a yelp when he rammed his elbow into one of the metal shelves. Mohan had her back turned immediately, rifling through the contents of a plastic bin.
‘Where’s Mel, what the fuck is up in South 16, and why won’t anyone tell me what’s going on?’ The questions left his mouth in rapid succession, and Frank hoped the answers would come just as quickly.
Mohan didn’t look at him as she gathered her supplies into her arms. This in and of itself raised concerns. It was pretty rare for a doctor to go searching for their own suture kits and gauze— in fact the few times Frank had ever been in this closet had been to have a quick panic attack between cases and occasionally, when he really couldn’t help himself, to kiss Mel when she’d done something particularly hot. (Like popping a joint back into place, for example. Or breathing.)
Mohan sighed. ‘It’s a private matter, I was told not to talk to you about it.’
‘To me specifically?’ He narrowed his eyes.
Mohan turned to look at him, the sterile packaging of the gauze crinkling as she shrugged, holding the supplies closer to her chest. ‘Mel is fine, nothing bad is going on. I’m sure she’ll tell you about it later.’
Her answers were wholly unsatisfying, her tone unnervingly curt. The lack of details tracked with the vagueness of the board and Robby’s evasion techniques, but he knew that if he pushed just a bit more he might get something out of her.
‘Samira, please, I just need to know—’ His voice was high and reedy all of a sudden, hoping that if he leaned into it, if he let it betray his distress, she’d be more inclined to let some info slip.
Disappointingly, she held fast. Refusing to meet his eye, she opened the door, heading back into the hall.
‘I have a patient to get back to, I’m sure you do too,’ she said as she ducked out of sight.
After approximately another hour of sulking and observing the shut door in a very normal way that would not be construed as obsessive, the curtain in South 16 finally twitched, revealing Mel as she made her return to the ED. Her cheeks were flushed pink, top teeth against her bottom lip as she bit back a grin. Even her movements seemed to be upbeat, each step accompanied by a little hop.
What the fuck? Frank's concern was quickly morphing into jealousy. Something was going on behind that door, and if no one else wanted to tell him, he’d have to work it out for himself.
Mel didn’t seem to notice him from across the hub as she leaned over the desk to whisper to Dana, so Frank let his impulsivity surge to the forefront as he made a break for it, dodging and weaving around patients and EMTs to open the door on the mystery case.
Steeling himself, he took a breath before taking the edge of the privacy curtain in hand, the worn fabric rough against his long fingers, pulling it back to reveal… a man.
It took everything in him not to react in the most unprofessional way possible. Frank felt the blood drain from his face. He had the sudden urge to drop down on one knee, salute, bow even. There, lying on the gurney, was the Pittsburgh Penguins captain himself, first pick of the 2005 NHL draft, three-time Stanley Cup Champion, Sidney Crosby.
Frank had no words, and all he could do was stare at the man laid out on the bed, a perfectly neat row of sutures tracing a long line from his knee to the top of his thigh. He also registered that the guy had no pants on, understandable considering the location of the laceration, but Frank was starting to have very conflicting feelings, a strange mixture that sat somewhere between starstruck and furious.
‘Everything okay?’ Sidney asked, looking up from his phone.
Frank swallowed, his throat painfully dry all of a sudden. ‘Just, uh. Just checking everything’s okay in here.’
‘All good, man. Mel said she was getting my discharge papers,’ Sidney replied nonchalantly, turning his attention back to his phone and frowning at the screen.
Mel. Frank tried not to flinch at hearing her name come from his mouth. Sidney fucking Crosby was half naked, talking to Frank in the flesh, and seemingly on a first name basis with his girlfriend.
‘Cool,’ Frank said. His legs seemed to have stopped working. Maybe he’d die in this position, frozen in place for the foreseeable future as he tried (and failed) to process what was happening.
‘Sorry, is there anything else?’
‘Nope!’ Frank’s voice had turned high and squeaky again, and he kicked himself as he finally unglued his shoes from the floor to hightail it out of the room, only to come face-to-face with a very disappointed-looking Robby, Mel’s face appearing over his shoulder as she stared at him with wide eyes.
‘Dr Langdon.’ Robby’s tone was dangerously calm. ‘A word, please.’
Shit.
Frank’s brain worked overtime as he followed Robby into the break room, trying (and failing) to concoct an excuse that would absolve him of any guilt. Mel was still at his side, shooting him apologetic glances that he caught out of the corner of his eye. Her steps were hurried as she tried to match his pace, shoes squeaking against the linoleum floor.
Once the door to the room closed, Robby turned to face them, tucking his glasses into the top pocket of his scrubs and rubbing at his jaw. He looked exhausted.
‘Frank,’ he started (first name basis was rarely a good thing with Robby), ‘do you want to explain what the fuck you thought you were doing in South 16?’
Frank opened his mouth, hoping a retort would miraculously appear in time, but Robby continued before he had the chance.
‘Actually, I don’t want to know.’ He pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes screwed shut. ‘You disobeyed my order—’
‘Whoa, wait, hold on,’ Frank said, hands palm up in front of his chest defensively. ‘You never gave me any orders, and—’ Robby opened his mouth to bite back, but Frank was on a roll. ‘And, you sent Mel into a room alone with a closed door and no other eyes on the situation, and expected me not to have any questions? What the fuck, man?’
‘Frank…’ Mel said quietly, resting a hand on his bicep.
‘I was aware of the risks, Langdon, but this was a matter of patient confidentiality.’
‘Bullshit,’ Frank spat at him. ‘You’ve been walking on eggshells around me all day because, what? You thought I’d burst into the room and ask him to sign my tits?’
Mel coughed at his side, fingers squeezing his arm slightly. He could tell his voice was a few decibels too loud, but this was ridiculous.
‘I didn’t think it would be appropriate for you to treat him. I mean, you cried when he was named for the Quarter-Century team.’
‘You’re kidding me, right? Oh, sorry, God forbid a guy get emotional. All of a sudden you think I can’t be professional? And saying it would be inappropriate for me and not Mel? You need to check yourself.’
Robby cocked his head, confusion passing over his face. ‘Sorry?’
Frank couldn’t help but laugh, the sound bitter. ‘I know you’ve been complaining about Gloria wanting us all to go on that gender sensitivity training course, but I think you might need it more than the rest of us. What, just because Mel’s a woman she can’t like hockey, huh?’
‘I didn’t—’
‘Not only did you lie to me, but you sent my girlfriend into a room, alone, with her fucking hall pass?’
The words came out before he had a moment to process them. Mel’s hand dropped immediately, her fingers lacing together, clasped in front of her chest. Frank tensed up, clenching his jaw as he realized exactly what he’d said, and perhaps more importantly who he’d said it to.
‘I—’ he started, but let the silence fill the room once again. Mel’s cheeks burned bright red and he had a feeling he probably looked no different.
‘Right,’ Robby broke the silence, emphasising his words with a single, loud clap. ‘The patient in South 16 is now mine,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘I would appreciate it if we never spoke of any of… this,’ he gestured vaguely between them, ‘ever again.’
‘Yeah,’ Frank mumbled, staring down at the floor. There was a speck of blood on his laces. He’d have to wash them when he got home.
Robby stood still for a moment longer before clearly deciding he’d had enough of the awkward atmosphere in the break room. ‘I’m leaving now.’
The moment the door clicked shut, Mel turned to face Frank, aghast. ‘What were you thinking—’
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to tell—’
‘— he’s our boss, Frank!’
Frank thought that if Mel’s eyebrows went any higher they’d be on top of her head.
‘Baby, please forgive me,’ he said, wincing.
She blinked at him, clearly considering something. He could practically see the wheels turning in her head
‘Okay,’ she settled on, but before Frank could breathe a sigh of relief she continued. ‘On one condition.’
He nodded eagerly. ‘Anything. You name it, I’ll do it.’ He’d get down on his knees and grovel if she wanted, crawl over hot coals just to earn her forgiveness.
‘You have to admit to Robby that Sidney Crosby is your hall pass too,’ she stated plainly.
Frank took a step back, eyes widening. ‘I told you that in confidence!’
‘So did I! You tell Robby and I’ll forgive you. Even Stevens.’ She grinned. God, she was so fucking cute, even when she resorted to blackmail. He felt almost proud that she had the audacity to turn it all back on him.
‘Whatever,’ he grumbled, pulling her into his chest and resting his chin on her head. Her arms wrapped around his waist squeezing tight, her giggle reverberating through him. ‘I can’t believe you spent a whole day with Sidney fucking Crosby and I’ve been giving out tetanus shots to every dumbass this side of the Allegheny.’
‘You’re being dramatic, we barely even spoke,’ she said, voice muffled against his chest.
Frank said nothing, just squeezed her tighter against him.
‘And if it makes you feel any better, don’t forget that you’ll always be an inch taller than him.’
(Yeah, it did.)
