Work Text:
Some days just fucking sucked. Post a bad therapy session with Abby. The outcome of which had both spouses storming off in opposite directions. Each of the refusing to find a middle ground. His mother in law was going to love this. Frank wandered idly around just trying to find some peace. A rare commodity these days. Yes he lived for chaos and thinking on his feet. He always had. But there was always that need for just a flash of quiet.
To simply be.
Of course he found himself outside Fort Pitt. Memories of his childhood immediately flooding back. Joy in it’s purest form. Abby hated the museum. She hated nearly all museums. Unless they were modern art. Which did not speak to him at all. The Pittsburgh Glass Centre was pretty bad ass. The injuries: intense.
Well Abby was already mad at him. And she wanted the house to herself so he was adhering to he wants. In the way that would annoy her the most.
She never really got into history. At best tolerating it. But she didn’t have that curiousity about the past like he did. Only looking forward. But Frank was taught that looking back was just as important.
Wasn’t that the point of fucking therapy???
But that seemed to just be escalating hostilities.
Well it wasn’t helping. At least not yet. Some of the peace and quiet he was looking for settled over him as he entered the museum. Snap judgments about people. Since college he’d felt the confusion and disbelief at his real nerd leanings. Unfortunately he had taken those judgement on board and adopted a rather particular personality. The asshole version.
Bit by bit he was letting that shit go. A largish crowd walked past. One of the tours. He’d seen it enough to be able to recite in his sleep. Apparently during his intern year, with all the stress: he did. So he always wandered. Sometimes for hours. Kids were too young for this yet. He prayed at least one of them would love history half as much as he did.
A flash of blonde grabbed his attention.
Mel? Nah not every blonde was her. He turned back to one of the diorama’s. But his brain wasn’t focused. Something niggling at him.
Oh god he had to double check who this person was. Proof it wasn’t Mel. Seemingly the one person who always saw the best in him. And made him maybe believe it too.
Person on the tail end of the group. Hair in loose waves. Blonde was almost the right shade. But then again he rarely saw Mel outside of fluorescent lighting. This woman was on the outside of the group. Families and couples. Not many individuals in this batch.
He had no intent on gatecrashing the group. Especially as the tour guide got the year of Patrick Henry’s letter wrong. 1877? What the fuck. 1777. The blonde woman huffed a little at that proclamation. Turning and leaving the group. If he wasn’t a happily married man he’d have fallen in love.
Her eyes didn’t land on him as she walked away from the group. ‘1877? Is she mad or just stupid?’
It was Mel.
Oh god.
Did he go over? He wanted to but he also didn’t want to come off like a stalker. What were the chances they’d both be in the same museum on the same day. He dithered a little bit. Watching from the periphery of his vision. She was staring up at a painting. It was amazing the differences in people outside of the Pitt. Mel typically walked very straight, hands folded or twisting slightly. Self soothing. Hair in an almost always in a perfect neat braid. She was just neat. Careful, controlled and the very model of a professional. Better than anyone else. Here: she was more relaxed. Perhaps ever more herself. Hair surprisingly long. A thick curtain over her back. Deep waves probably from her braid.
Abby was pissed. Would be nice to have a conversation with someone who seemed to see the best in him. Frank walked over, painfully fake casual. His instincts wanting to rush. But he knew better.
If she registered someone standing next to her, she didn’t show it. Typical war scene. His younger self had been obsessed with it. His Dad always called it visceral. ‘Exploring the wider Pittsburgh area Dr King?’
She tilted her head, towards him. A strange feeling rippled through his gut. Vanilla. Her hair brushed against his shoulder. Explained the source of the smell. But not his reaction to it.
‘I miss going to museums.’ There was something heavy in her voice. But not entirely sad, just her own past.
Frank tilted his own head. Frowning as the tour guide continued to get basic facts wrong. New kid. No appreciation for what they were doing. Or they were having an off day. ‘Becca not a fan?’ Mel had mentioned casually trying to find her own path. Asking people for ideas. None of which had really stuck. Frank supposed he was trying to find his own path right now. Post rehab. Living with the reality of addiction. And a very shaky marriage.
Mel hummed a little. ‘It makes her too sad.’ She rolled on the balls of her feet. He waited. Sometimes it was best to let people offer up the information. ‘My father was a historian.’
Was.
It was obvious that Mel had shouldered a lot from a young age. Frank tried to imagine the younger King sisters standing at the side of the grave. Becca crying. Mel more than likely trying to maintain her composure. Needing to be the strong one for Becca. He wondered if she ever left herself grieve externally. Most likely not. ‘Was the revolution his speciality?’
Mel’s head bounced to a weird rhythm. ‘One of them. He was known as an eccentric even in those circles. 17th and 18th centuries were two of his interests.’
She didn’t elaborate. Frank chewed his lip for a second. Wanting to know more. So much more. But respecting how painful telling him that much. ‘My Dad is a massive history nerd. It’s genetic. Spent a good deal of my childhood in this place.’
‘Colonial Williamsburg was one of my favourite trips as a kid.’
‘Ah man I missed mine due breaking my leg.’ He shook his head. ‘I’m still pissed.’ That was true. Frank had tried several times to plan a trip up but life constantly got in the way. Abby sure as hell never wanted to go.
Mel’s face scrunched for a minute. It was the face she pulled when she wasn’t sure if someone was just humouring her. Often seen with Santos (for obvious reasons). Frank wasn’t comfortable being on the receiving end. He never wanted her to think that of him. Mel was one of the few people he’d really connected with for a long time. Off beat but really funny and kind. And she made people around her gentle. It was powerful.
‘Wish the kids were a bit older. They’re not quite ready for this stuff.’ Probably shouldn’t have admitted that out loud. ‘At least that’s what Abby says. But she hates shit like this.’ No, that, was what he shouldn’t have said out loud. Mel cleared her throat. Shit. They were not at that friendship level yet. Oh god were they friends? Frank felt his heart beat ramp up in his neck.
She tilted her head, thinking. Not really looking at the array of medical equipment from the revolution in front of them. Shit he was glad to be a doctor in this day and age. Her mouth opened and closed a couple of times. Frank tried to ignore how pretty she looked with her cheeks turning rosy. ‘Have you thought about the ren faire? There are loads of kid friendly options at those.’
Before he could answer Mel was off. Talking about her going with her Dad as a teenager. Both of them just enjoying these characters. It was just cute. Not a great thought to be having about his coworker just after a shit therapy session. But he was trying to be more honest. If only with himself.
‘I always wanted to go to the Ren Faire. Seems pretty bad ass.’
Once again that look passed over her face. The one that betrayed a past of being dismissed, not taken seriously or that weird habit he’d seen of people just walking away on her mid sentence. For all his faults he tried to stick around. Besides conversation with Mel were always interesting. And they made him feel better, even if it was them crying over loosing a patient. There was something very uplifting about being with her. Embodiment of hope that she was.
‘Oh. Most people laugh.’
Her voice was small. Frank never liked when people did that to someone else. He had. That recriminatory voice pipped up. Yeah just because he hated it, always had, alas didn’t exempt him from doing it. ‘Luckily I’m not most people. And fuck anyone who laughs at what you like. It’s just stupid.’
‘Only two things are infinite. The universe and the human stupidity...’ So Mel. She was so nice. She trailed off before insulting humanity as a whole.
‘And I’m not sure about the former.’ He finished with an easy grin. Mel ducked her head. Hair eclipsing her face from view. Einstein. Good quote. And true.
‘Also from what I have seen online: isn’t there like whip trick artists, archery, fire stunts and all sorts of crazy shit at the ren faires?’ Mel nodded rapidly. Her face finally peaking back out from her hair.
‘So many! And it depends which one you go to. Some are designed for younger audiences and some less so...’ It was taking all of his focus to ignore just how lovely she was smiling and pink. Adult Ren Faires.
That sounded... dangerous. Especially since Mel had mentioned a period accurate outfit. Stays and corsets and things that were not for a sensible man to know about. At least one who’s wedding band was as loose as his marriage was stable.
Time blurred as they continued to stroll around the museum. Frank sharing silly stories of running around with his Dad. Tricorn hat flying off every five minutes. Mel having some similar ones. The one where a six year old Mel corrected the tour guide who did not take it well landed well. He could picture it so clearly. Just a small blonde girl enthusiastically sharing what she knew and the adults not playing ball. Resolute and sure of herself. Standing up when most would not question it.
It was good that really hadn’t changed.
‘So you are working your way through the Pittsburgh museums?’ Mel nodded, sliding out her phone and showing her detailed list.
Of course she had a list.
‘Looks like a great order in which to do them.’
‘Let me guess: you went at random.’ There was a little bit of disdain in her voice. But a fond sort.
Frank grinned in the way he did when he knew he was trying to get out of trouble. His most charming grin. He could tell Mel wanted to roll her eyes at him. But her endless self control just about stopped her. But her eyes did flash with it.
His grin morphed into his best Shen impression. ‘Sometimes you have vibe it.’ Her laugh sounded like she was trying not too. Not wanting to encourage his chaos. ‘I do have a few memberships for the museums so if you want a friend to tag along I am more than happy to share.’
Mel blinked at him. He hadn’t meant to offer. In fact he hadn’t even thought about offering until it popped out. But as soon as he said it, he hoped, prayed she say yes. They had been walking and chatting for almost three hours. It was the most fun he’d had in the longest time. No pressure to be something he didn’t think he could be any more. If he ever was. Just talking about a variety of topics with someone who seemed to enjoy his company. It was freeing.
Her eyes, not the dark brown they looked like in the Pitt but more hazel green flicked down to her list and back up to him. Interesting how people changed so much outside of work. Even physically. Curious.
‘That would be really nice. Thank you Doctor Langdon.’
‘My friends call me Frank you know.’
Once again her eyes widened as she stared up at him. One hand pushing her glasses up. Never by the bridge, always from the side. Frank knew that she felt just like he did at that moment. A little nervous. Gut churning. Making friends as an adult was always tinged with awkwardness. Back to been a teenager all over again. Exposing yourself to another person. Facing the risk of being rejected. Friendship rejection always felt like a deeper rejection to him. And if Mel didn’t think him a friend?
God that would fucking suck.
More than was probably sensible.
‘Frank. I would really like that. I know you have more responsibilities than I do...’ She offered him her phone. Oh right yeah they still hadn’t done the number exchange stuff.
Frank “CS” Langdon.
He prayed that she’d recognise the joke. And she wouldn’t think him weird. In a flight of fancy he may have added a crown emoji after her name in his phone.
‘I can share my calender so you can put in what days and times work for you best.’
It was like she was getting him to sign a binding contract. Holding him to account. If he put the times and dates in: then he had to follow through. Like she’d been let down before.
A feeling he understood more than people thought someone like him would.
‘It’s a date.’
What. The. Fuck. Frank.