Chapter Text
Mel clasped her hands around the white diner-style coffee mug, letting the warmth seep into her fingertips. The retro style clock on the wall said 12:17; she’d shown up first, unsure of how long it would take him to get there from the Royal Ink.
“Anything else I can get you?” the waitress asked, obviously exhausted from her night shift already, but still flashing Mel a kindly smile. Mel shook her head and tried to offer back that smile, but her nerves were shot and she feared she looked slightly deranged.
But then the door to the diner was opening, and Mel immediately latched onto the face of the man she’d been waiting for.
He hadn’t shaved, she noted; a dark stubble had begun to set in, making him look even more haggard than he already did, his eyes heavy as they searched the booths, until they finally landed on her. His expression softened then in that way that it did when he looked at her, and Mel’s stomach twisted as he made his way towards her. He stopped at the other side of the booth, not sitting down. He was holding a rag, hands covered in ink, and when he noticed Mel looking, blushed and shoved it into his pocket.
“I, um, dropped a bottle. Not my finest moment,” he chuckled, even though she could tell he didn’t think it was funny at all.
“Do you want to sit?” Mel asked, pointing her chin towards the empty booth. Frank nodded and slid in, his knee bumping the table slightly, causing the silverware to clatter together. They both winced.
“Sorry,” he said, and then straightened up. “I’m sorry about the other day, too. I meant to call, explain, but then Abby called, and…” he trailed off. Mel reached over and took his ink-stained hands in hers.
“You don’t have to apologize for caring about your kids,” she said, holding on tight. He wasn’t looking at her, and so she ducked her head to catch his eyes. “Would you want me to apologize for Becca?” That got his attention, and he snapped his head up.
“No! That’s not– Becca’s great,” he stuttered. Mel shrugged, making her point. Frank sighed, sliding one hand out of hers, running it through his hair.
“I just… I feel like there’s something wrong with me. Like every time I think I’m on the right path, I find a way to screw it up. With Abby, with the kids, with you .” There it was again. Referring to her like she was on the same level as his family. “And it’s like– these past few weeks have changed everything for me. Ever since you walked into R.I., since you trusted me enough to do that for you, it’s been all I can think about. And then you let me in your life, let me meet your sister and stay for the movie, and all I could think was how lucky I am to get to be there for you, to be allowed to hold you and…” he trailed off again, pulling his hand out of his hair and letting it rest on the table. “And then I remembered just how fucked up I am, how I’m down a marriage and kids and Robby’s barely relaxed a little on the daily urine tests, and how you don’t need someone like me coming to mess everything up. And I guess I was feeling sorry for myself and didn’t want you to think that you’d done something wrong, because you haven’t. God, you’re probably the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
Mel’s heart squeezed, and she squeezed his hand to try to take the pressure off.
“You’re not screwing anything up,” Mel insisted. Frank did not seem to believe her. “If anything, I thought I was the one screwing up, moving too fast. Cause I know that I’m not exactly normal, and there’s nothing I can do to fix that, and I’ve got baggage too. Becca comes first, every time,” she said, and he nodded, understanding instantly, but before either of them could say anything else, the waitress had returned, and Mel slipped her hands away from Frank, back around her mug.
“Do you want anything?” Mel asked, pushing over a menu while the waitress filled another cup with decaf. Frank didn’t even look at the waitress or the menu, his eyes still on Mel, his hands moving to wrap around his own mug like she had done with hers.
“I’m all good,” he said, pushing the menu away. “Thank you,” he called towards the waitress as she walked off. When Mel raised an eyebrow, Frank just said, “Ate between court and work.”
“What happened?”
Frank grimaced. “Abby wants to move back to Chicago. She grew up there, and her parents are there, and that’s great, but that would mean that I’d only get to see the kids maybe for Christmas and summers? With our schedules, there’s no way I can drive fourteen hours there and back and still have time for everything else.”
“Would you move?” Mel asked. Frank shook his head immediately, fingers tightening around the mug like a lifeline.
“Absolutely not. Don’t get me wrong, Chicago’s fine, and I have an aunt who works over at County General, but…”
His words floated in the air, and Mel could still hear his voice over the phone.
My whole life is here, my job, my parents, you .
Mel reached out with one hand, gently brushing his fingers with hers until he let go of the coffee mug, replacing its warmth with her hand.
“I don’t know what the future may hold, Frank Langdon,” Mel said, using his full name to drive the point home, “but I will always be there for you.”
Frank squeezed her hand. “I know. And I want to be there for you, too. However you’ll have me.”
However you’ll have me . The words reminded Mel of his eyes in the break room, his breath on her skin, his hand on her torso. Of laying beside him in her bed, and feeling more comfortable than she had in ages.
“Frank,” she said carefully, unsure. Oh God, what if she screws this up now? But he’d moved to rubbing his thumb against her knuckles, like he had in the car the other day, and he was looking at her the same way he always had, and she knew she had to do it, even if it meant breaking this forever. She paused, trying to parse exactly what to say, but Frank blurted it out instead.
“I think I’m falling in love with you.”
And oh isn’t that just–
“I think I’m falling in love with you too.”
___
They talked for the rest of the night, not even needing to switch to regular coffee as the sky began to lighten, and when they finally left with hopefully enough time to at least change and drive in for work, they did so hand in hand.
Mel was pretty sure that everyone at work was already suspicious of them; for the next few weeks, any time one of them went into the break room, there was always someone calling for the other, keeping them from following in. But they still found time between patients and rounds to make dinner plans or movie plans or just-hanging-out plans. Frank fit in perfectly into their schedule, and even though Mel offered Becca in a side-bar that if she ever wanted him gone, he was gone, Becca had refused, stating that, although Mel made the better pancakes, Frank made the better eggs, which Mel couldn’t find a counterargument for.
By the time Mel and Becca’s birthdays rolled around, Frank was a mainstay in Mel’s bed (except for when their shifts misaligned), and although Mel was able to do her work in relative peace, she still found herself thinking about him when her mind wandered.
“Ew, she’s got her ‘thinking-of-Frank’ face on,” Trinity teased one day while Mel was taking a quick lunch break. Just beyond the doors, she could see Dana talking to Frank, though she was pretty sure Dana hadn’t actually needed anything. She turned to Trinity and Samira, who she’d been talking to.
“I do not have a ‘thinking-of-Frank’ face,” Mel said, feeling her face turn red.
Trinity laughed, and Samira shot her a sympathetic smile before leaning in to say, “I’m so sorry, but you totally do,” which served its function in making Mel blush harder.
“Anyways, please, please tell me you can be free of your boyfriend for one night so that we can celebrate your birthday,” Trinity begged, reaching out to Mel, though thankfully not touching her.
Mel shoveled another bite of salad before speaking. “If you mean on the day of my birthday, then no, I already have plans. And also Saturday’s a no, because that’s Becca’s birthday.” Trinity’s face fell, and then perked right up when Mel said, “But I can do next Monday? Frank works weeknights, so my evening’s completely free.”
Trinity celebrated in her chair, pumping her fist and hooting, which got a laugh out of Mel.
“But no tattoos this time,” Mel warned over the celebratory noises, but she wasn’t sure Trinity was listening. Samira was a little more quiet, though she was still smiling. Her eyes narrowed though, and she scooted closer to Mel.
“I thought Frank was on day shift next week.”
Shit.
The break room door swung open, saving Mel from answering immediately, but Frank had zeroed in on Trinity, who was finally settling down.
“What’s with all the noise?” Frank asked, grabbing the empty chair between Samira and Trinity and carrying it until he was between Mel and Mohan.
“We’re taking Mel out Monday night,” Samira explained, turning towards her protein shake. “Trinity’s super excited.”
“Alright, just be careful if you come back for another tattoo,” Frank said, cracking open a fresh Red Bull. “Alcohol and needles don’t exactly mix. Although Wren wouldn’t mind seeing you again.” Frank froze mid-sip, realizing what he’d just said.
Double shit.
Trinity’s eyes narrowed. “What do you know?”
“What do you know?” Frank asked back.
“I know that you weren’t there, so how do you know Wren?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know, Santos,” Frank shot back ruefully. Mel stood, having finished her salad and not wanting to be in the middle of another Langdon-Santos fight, although, she did have to note, this one had less bite, and both Trinity and Frank were smiling, even as Frank followed Mel up and Trinity looked between the two of them suspiciously, her brain obviously trying to fit in the pieces.
Before Mel could leave, Trinity pointed a finger at her.
“I won’t,” Mel promised as she led Frank out of the room. He was close enough to her that she could feel his hand hovering over the small of her back, his shoulders pressing into hers. Mel led him over to an empty room, though she knew it wouldn’t be empty for long.
“I’m so sorry,” she started to say, but Frank’s head was ducked into her neck in an instant, his shoulder shaking, and in her ear, she could hear his laughter.
“That was close,” he said eventually, pulling back so that she could see that goofy smile. “Well, Santos was smart enough to catch me the first time, she’ll probably figure it out soon enough. Guess the cat’s basically out of the bag.”
“Are you okay with that?” Mel asked, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.
Frank’s smile dropped slightly, and he pressed a hand to Mel’s cheek.
“The past few weeks have been amazing,” Frank said, his voice low. “And if you still want to keep things between us, that’s what we’ll do.” He doesn’t need to say anything else.
Mel felt warm in her chest; a blooming feeling like drinking hot coffee in a diner at 2 in the morning, spreading until she was all gooey inside. Outside, she could hear the general hustle and bustle of the ER, but in that moment, all she wanted to do was rise up on her tip-toes and kiss him. And of course, she could now, and so she did, pressing her lips to his, parting slightly to deepen the kiss. He made a noise, something between surprise and a moan, and then the curtain was being pulled back, and, just a second too late, they both registered the noise, turning to find half of the ER day shift looking at them, including Santos and Mohan, who were looking at each other with knowing looks, and Robby, whose face Mel had never seen turn that particular shade of red before. Heather, who had drawn back the curtain for the new arrival, looked less surprised and more disappointed.
“Happy birthday, Dr. King,” Frank murmured into her ear before they separated for good; Mel to find some patient that would potentially isolate her from the ER for a few weeks, and Frank to go talk to Robby.
___
Sunlight filtered in through her curtains the morning after Becca’s birthday. The night before, Mel and Becca had celebrated their triple birthday the same way they always had, just with one difference: Frank had been allowed to attend. He’d even snapped a picture of Becca and Mel blowing out their respective candles; the third one had been placed, unlit, like it had since their mom had died.
Afterwards, they’d eaten cake and watched movies until they felt sick, and then Becca had retired early, wanting to spend her evening building the Lego PAC-MAN Arcade that Frank & Mel had gone halfsies on, which gave Frank and Mel time to give into the long-honoured tradition of birthday sex. Marathon birthday sex.
By the time the sun was rising, they were both deliciously sore, taking in a moment of respite. Frank’s head was on Mel’s stomach like a warm personalized weighted blanket, and she carded her fingers through his hair, trying to remember what it was like to not have Frank in her life. She was having a hard time doing it.
Frank kissed her stomach, making her laugh from ticklish feeling. She looked down to find his eyes looking back at her, his eyes soft from exhaustion and admiration.
“You know, I took a Victorian literature class in college,” he said without much preamble.
“You did?”
“Yeah, for the Gen Ed requirement. Thought it would be better than the Creative Writing 101 that the other pre-meds were taking.”
Mel snorted, the sentence feeling exactly right. She could just picture college-aged Frank amongst a bunch of English majors waxing poetic about Dickens, Thackeray, and the Brontë sisters.
“It was actually a really interesting class,” Frank defended, and Mel settled, putting on her serious face so that he knew she was listening. “Anyways, one of the things Professor Walton taught us was the meaning of flowers.”
“Flowers? Like the ones you do at the shop?”
“Exactly like the ones I do at the shop. I guess that’s where I got them from. So she taught us about how snowdrops mean hopefulness, and gum rockrose means I shall die tomorrow ,” he put on a fake croaking voice over the last few words, burying his face into her stomach again, making her laugh and twitch at the feeling.
“So does my flower have a meaning?” Mel asked, when she finally stopped laughing enough to get words out again. Frank nodded, suddenly not smiling. “Is it something bad?”
“No,” he said, lifting himself slowly so that he was hovering over her rather than laying directly on top of her.
“What is it? Do you not remember it?” It had been some years since Frank had been in undergrad.
“No, I remember it,” he said, shaking his head, and then lowered himself so that his lips pressed just above her clit, still slightly swollen from when he’d spent half the night devouring her. Mel shuddered, part from the feeling, part from the memory.
“It means I love .” He raised himself slowly, moving to the right, repeating the kiss to her hip bone, playfully nipping at her side.
“ I love .”
To the center of the flower.
“ I love .”
Between her breasts.
“ I love .”
The pulse point on her neck.
“ I love .”