Archive of Our Own ^beta

“If you stare any harder,” a voice says, startling Frank where he stands leaning against the charge desk with his arms tightly folded across his chest. “You’re gonna burn a hole through the back of Dr. Miller’s head.” 

He glances over at Dana, where the charge nurse mirrors his position, and emits a soft grunt in response.  

It wouldn’t be the end of the world. 

The thought is an uncharitable one. But he still thinks it’s true. 

Frank Langdon doesn’t hate a lot of people. Not really. He might not be everyone’s best friend, and he’ll freely admit that he used to be a bit of a prickly asshole, overconfident and abrasive. But those are things he’s worked hard on in the 20 months since he went to rehab. Now, he tries to be a good coworker and mentor in the ER. He doesn’t cherry-pick cases. He doesn’t play favorites with the med students or the R1s and 2s, mentally maintaining a steady rotation of who he tucks under his wing for the day. 

He might still pull one Dr. Mel King in on cases with him a little more often than anyone else. They work well together. Sue him. Or don’t. Because he just finally finished paying off his rehab bills, and child support and alimony payments are now taking a good chunk of his paycheck. He absolutely cannot afford another $10,000 retainer. 

But he fucking hates Dr. Kevin Miller, and his twangy southern drawl and California surfer boy good looks. And it has nothing to do with the fact that the man swooped in and stole the job Frank’s been working his ass off for over the last six years. 

Frank knows most doctors don’t stay at the hospital where they complete their residency. And with the stain of rehab still so fresh on his record, he’s not the most desirable job candidate. He and Robby might never have the relationship they once did, but they’ve made their peace. So when he’d heard that powers that be had allocated another attending position to the ER right as his residency was ending, Frank had allowed himself to hope that maybe, just maybe, the position had been created for him. 

Then they’d gone and hired Kevin fucking Miller, blowing all Frank’s hopes and dreams to hell. 

Robby had at least seemed remorseful when he made the announcement, knowing what it probably meant for Frank. Had assured him after that it wasn’t personal. The decision was ultimately out of his hands, and Dr. Miller was coming to PTMC with an impressive publication list and fresh off a stint in Ghana working with Doctors Without Borders. Because of course he fucking was. 

Frank would probably hate the guy less if he weren’t such a fucking saint. 

And if it was just the job, Frank thinks he could probably get over it. These things happen. The odds were never exactly in his favor, and he’ll get an attending position somewhere. There are plenty of hospitals in Allegheny County. A fresh start might even be good for him. 

“Dr. Miller’s taken a bit of a shine to our Mel, huh?” Dana says. 

Frank can feel her eyes on the side of his face, studying him, but he can’t tear his own away from the scene playing out across the ER.  His eyes track the other man’s progress as he carries two plastic cups with domed lids. The lilac contents of the one in his left hand instantly give away its recipient. Frank knows that order. He’s been picking it up himself at least once a week for over six months. 

Mel is sitting at a desk, dictation device in hand, as she reviews her patient notes and works on her charting. They’ve been on opposite schedules for the last few days, so she’s winding up her shift just as his is getting started. He’d gotten pulled in on an incoming trauma, adult bicyclist versus school bus stop sign, as soon as he’d changed into his scrubs, so he hasn’t even had a chance to say hello to her yet. 

Dr. Miller clearly hadn’t been so unfortunate. The man glides through the ER with the ease of someone who's worked there for years, versus just a handful of weeks before coming to stop next to Mel’s desk, setting the boba cup on the edge of the desk in her direct line of sight before leaning against the side of the cubicle and waiting for her to finish her thought and acknowledge him. 

“Looks like it,” Frank grounds out from between clenched teeth. 

Mel’s so lost in her notes, it takes her a minute to become aware of the other man’s presence. She glances first at the cup, frowning in confusion at its sudden appearance, before brightening as she glances over at the man next to her. 

Frank can feel the warmth of that smile even at a distance, and it sends a pang through his chest that it’s not directed at him. 

No. It’s really not the job that has Frank so fucking bothered. 

It’s the blond sitting half a dozen yards away with her hair pulled back in its customary tidy braid and her glasses perched on her nose with a grateful smile turning up the corners of her lips. More specifically, it’s the way the man standing next to her is leaning in closer to say something that makes Mel pause for a moment before her smile widens and she shakes her head as she laughs. 

Frank knows he should be glad that Mel has found another friend at PTMC. It’s always bothered him how overlooked she is. That no one else really sees her particular brand of quiet competency the way he does, or just how sharp her insights are on troubling cases. She’s a fucking great doctor, and a far better person than he could ever even dream of being. So he should be happy that someone else is finally seeing what he’s known for nearly two years. 

But for all his therapy and self-actualization, Frank is still a bit of a selfish bastard. And, in the words of his six-year-old, Mel was his friend first. 

God, he’s gotta spend less time around kindergartners. Or at least a little more time around other adults when not at the hospital. 

The thing is, in the last ten months since his return to the Pitt, Mel has become important to him. Important in a way he’s not entirely sure anyone else ever has been before. They’re friends, yes. Hell, she’s probably his best friend these days. But it’s also somehow more than that. 

They’ve become each other’s support systems, particularly in the six months since he and Abby separated. It’s Mel’s couch he crashed on the first week after he and Abby decided to pull the plug, before he got his shit together and found a house to rent. He’s on Becca’s approved check-out list from the center, and she’s on the same for Tanner’s school and Penny’s daycare. They go with his kids and her sister to the park, or the zoo, or Kennywood on most of their mutual days off, and he makes them all dinner at least once a week because half the time she’s with him, Pen will only eat her vegetables for him if she sees Dr. Mel eat them first. 

Frank’s made his peace with finding another job, but not working with Mel anymore, not seeing her face light up every time they come up with a difficult diagnosis together, or sitting in the stairwell sharing her AirPods when one or both of them get a little overwhelmed, that he’s still working on. 

And the fact that Kevin fucking Miller has swooped in intent on using up the little time they have left working together puts the man right at the top of Frank’s enemies list. 

“You know, you’re looking a little green there, Frankie.” 

He rolls his eyes at the use of the nickname. Dana’s the only person alive, other than his own mother, who he lets call him that. 

Penny had brought home a nasty stomach bug from daycare that had hit him mid shift a few days before. One second, he’d been reassuring a panicked new mother that hiccups were normal for an infant, and the next, he’d been reaching for the closest garbage can as the mixture of protein bar and Red Bull he’d consumed for lunch made a reappearance. He’d wanted Mel to just prescribe him a Zofran and let him get on with the day, but she’d teamed up with Dana to get him sent home instead.  

“I’m fine.” He waves her off. “It was just a 24-hour thing.” 

“That is not what I was talking about…” 

Frank half-hears her, already pushing off the charge desk to make his way over to Mel. Dr. Miller is now fully leaning in her direction, and she’s just rolled her chair back a few inches to put more space between them. It’s clearly time for Frank to intervene. 

“Dr. Langdon!” 

Mel’s bright smile at his approach soothes all of the irritation churning in his gut, and he can’t help but smile back in return. 

“Hey, Mel,” he says, and then gives the man next to him a curt nod of acknowledgement. “Good shift?” 

“Not too bad,” Mel replies. “Biker bar brawl came in around 2. So many fight bites.” 

“None of them gave you a hard time, right?” 

“Nope.” She shakes her head. “Apparently, Abbot’s a regular there, so they were all on their best behavior.” 

“Good.” Frank drums his fingers on the desk. “You’re taking Becks to breakfast this morning, right?” 

“Yeah,” she says. “She’s been begging to try the carrot cake pancakes at that new place by our house.” 

“Any patients you need me to take over?” 

“Dr. Miller just offered to take over my last two.” 

“Oh.” Frank glances over at the man on his left and gives him a curt nod. “Good… Well, we should probably leave you alone to finish up your charts so you can get out of here, huh?” 

“I just have a couple more,” Mel replies, giving both men an apologetic smile before her eyes find Frank’s again. “I’ll see you tonight at Tanner’s basketball game, though, right?” 

“Right.” 

“Becca made a poster. It’s… something. I don’t think we’re ever going to get all the glitter out of the carpet.” 

“Tanner?” Dr. Miller asks. “That’s your son, right?”  

There for a second, Frank had almost been able to pretend the man wasn’t there. 

“Yeah.” 

“How old?” 

“He’s six. Playing in a kiddie league at the Y.” 

“He’s really good,” Mel says. 

Frank is honest enough to admit the statement might not be entirely true, but his chest still puffs with pride at her words. Tanner did score three baskets in the last game, and never stopped playing to try to look for bugs under the bleachers. A season high.   

“Must be a chip off the old block.” 

God, it really would be easier to hate the man if he weren’t so goddamn nice all the time.  

“Must be,” Frank says. “Well, we’ll get out of your hair. See you tonight, Mel. Don’t let Becks talk you into another trip to the craft store too, okay? Go home and get some sleep.” 

“No promises. She wants to make one of those book nooks she keeps seeing on TikTok. The ones with all the miniatures. I think they have some kits. But we’ll see you tonight.” 

“See you then.” 

Dr. Miller looks around, a little befuddled at how easily Frank got both of them dismissed. He turns back to Mel like he wants to linger, but Dana’s voice rings out loud across the ER, snagging both of their attention. 

“STEMI incoming in five. Miller, Langdon, you’re on it.” 

If Frank didn’t know better, he’d swear she had arranged that. 

“I guess duty calls,” Dr. Miller says. “See you tomorrow, Mel?” 

“See you.” Mel nods, her eyes shifting between the two men for just a moment before settling on Frank’s. “Think you’ll get it in 50 minutes this time?” 

“50 minutes?” Dr. Miller frowns. “Is that your target door-to-balloon time?” 

“Record’s still 51,” Frank shrugs. “But I’m working on it.” 

“Well, now this I’ve gotta see,” the other man says with a grin. “Lead the way, Dr. Langdon.” 

Since it’s away from Mel, gladly.  

… 

Frank pushes open the heavy gym door just as a third grader in a Boy Scout uniform leads the crowd in the Pledge of Allegiance. He pauses in the doorway, waiting for a tinny rendition of the National Anthem to play over the loudspeaker before attempting to find his seat. A multi-car crash at rush hour had kept him late at the hospital, and he’d had to dart out as soon as he was free without even stopping to change out of his scrubs. 

“Daddy!” Penny’s high, clear voice rings out over the squeak of sneakers on the polished gym floor as the teams of six and seven-year-olds take the court. 

Experience tells him he’s got about eight seconds between when his daughter spots him and her flinging herself off the bleachers into his arms, so he widens his stance and crouches in preparation.  

“Hey, monkey,” Frank wheezes, winded from the impact of her collision with his chest, and presses a kiss to the side of her head. 

Glancing over her head at the stands, his eyes scan the crowd. Abby’s there in their usual row, her best friend, Jess, at her side, the two of them in matching t-shirts with Tanner’s team logo. Abby waves in his direction. Jess glares, but it’s half-hearted. The two of them never quite made it past the frenemies stage in the decade or so that they’ve known each other, but she’s a great honorary aunt to his kids, there for every birthday party, dance recital, or little league game, her busy schedule as a marketing executive allows.

Frank’s also pretty sure Jess is the reason Abby didn’t leave his ass while he was in rehab. Her younger brother also struggled with addiction, and Frank had overheard more than one hushed conversation between the two after his return home about how important it was for him to have a stable support system. That he was a good dad, and the best thing Abby could do for all of them would be to let him continue to be a good dad. Frank’s eternally grateful for that. 

It’s almost funny that his benzo addiction and rehab stint hadn’t been what killed his and Abby’s marriage. It was spending time together. The being stuck at home together for seven months after rehab was what had done them in. Frank hadn’t realized just how little he’d been home for the last five years, how little time they’d actually spent together. How little they still had in common other than their kids. It was almost like living with a stranger. 

Their eventual split hadn’t been a dramatic one. They’d hung on until he’d gone back to work, hoping that the return to their old sense of normal would improve things between them. But once he’d hit the year milestone in his sobriety, it had become clear that things just weren’t getting better. They moved around each other in the house like Pac-Men, both avoiding the ghost of their relationship, and sometimes entire days had gone by without them ever saying a word to each other. 

Eventually,  it had become clear that the best thing for their kids was for the two of them to separate and give Tanner and Penny two happy, healthy parents instead of two slightly miserable ones.  

It took some work and a lot of couples counseling, but now they co-parent relatively peacefully. He gets the kids as much as his work schedule allows. She saves him a seat at every school play, pre-k award ceremony, and kiddie league sporting event. There’s an open space just down the bench from her that he knows is reserved for him. But the real testament to their peaceable relationship is that on the other side of that empty space sit Mel and Becca. 

Fuck, that’s a ton of glitter. Becca’s poster that proudly declares “Go Tanner!” is absolutely covered in it. Every time she waves it, a little more rains down like fairy dust. The two sisters wave over at him, matching wide smiles on their faces as he makes his way up the bleachers to take his seat, Penny wrapped tightly in his arms. 

“Hi Frank!” Becca says with a wave as he settles on the bench. 

The move rattles the poster board, sending a shower of glitter into her sister’s lap. Mel looks down and grimaces as she takes in her iridescent jeans. 

“Hey, Becks,” he replies, shrugging off his backpack to place it at his feet while Penny squirms around to get comfortable on his lap. “Great poster. Tanner’s gonna love it.” 

“He does,” she says proudly. “I told him before the game he could take it home.” 

“To your house,” Abby leans over to mutter in his ear. 

“Great.” 

Thank god there’s no carpet in the bedrooms of his townhouse. He’d never get his security deposit back with the amount of glitter that thing is shedding embedded into the pile. 

“Here,” Mel says, picking up a blue Gatorade by her feet and passing it to him. “I got you this from the concession stand.” 

“Thanks,” Frank holds the bottle out in front of Penny and carefully twists off the cap before taking a long sip. “Did you get anything…?” 

“You want trail mix or a granola bar?” 

She holds up the two packages, and Frank squints to read the labels. 

“Does the trail mix have raisins in it?” 

“Nope,” she shakes her head. “Already checked.” 

“I’ll take that. Thanks, Mel.” 

He can slip Penny the MnM’s. Hopefully, the sugar will be enough to keep her awake until she can crash in the car on the drive home. She’s already leaning back heavily against him, the fine blond strands of her hair catching in his stubble where her head is tucked under his chin. The kid can fall asleep anywhere. But if she wakes up… She’ll fight sleep tooth and nail. As a doctor, Frank’s grateful for the late start to these games. He’d never make them otherwise. But as a parent, he hates the way they fuck with bedtime. 

“Did you make 50 minutes?” Mel asks after he tosses back a handful of nuts and slips a blue piece of candy into Penny’s palm. 

“The STEMI?” he asks, inspecting the next handful of trail mix in his palm. “Nah, 54.” 

“Still a good time,” Mel says, bumping her shoulder lightly into his. 

“Yeah.” Frank shrugs and then tosses back his next handful of the snack. “Patient made it. That’s what matters, right?” 

It’s not that he really wants to improve on his old record. More than he just wants to consistently hit it again. After nearly a year back at the hospital, he’s regained most of his old confidence, if not all his old swagger. But he’s never quite gotten his speed back.  

“Of course.” 

She smiles at him for a moment before cheering erupts from the small crowd in the stands around him, and they both turn to look at the court to see one of Tanner’s teammates mid booty-shaking victory dance after making a basket. 

They tune into the game for a few minutes, cheering loudly when Tanner, however inadvertently, steals the ball from a kid on the opposing team. They’ve let him try a couple of sports now. T-ball the previous spring. Soccer. Now basketball. Selfishly, Frank hopes basketball is the one that sticks. The YMCA’s gym is stuffy and smells strongly of rubber and wood varnish, but it’s infinitely preferable to sitting outside all damn day for soccer and baseball tournaments.

But when the coach has to snag him by the back of his jersey as Tanner bolts, presumably after a bug, Frank doubts his son will ever have any real future in sports. 

“Hey, Frank,” Mel says after the cheers die down for the kid on the opposing team who just scored a basket. 

“Yeah?” 

He glances over at her, alarm bells going off in his mind at the way her eyebrows are drawn together on her forehead. 

“What do you think of Dr. Miller?” she asks, picking at a speck of glitter on her jeans. 

“Daddy, too tight.” 

Penny squirms against him, and Frank instantly loosens the arm he had wrapped around his daughter’s waist.  

“Sorry, monster,” he says, pressing a kiss to the side of her head. 

“S’okay,” Penny replies, settling herself back more comfortably against his chest. 

“He seems… fine,” Frank says, turning his head to study the woman at his side. 

Mel’s not looking at him. Instead, she’s intently picking at one of the hundreds of specs of glitter on her knee. 

“Do you like him?” she asks. 

“I…” He swallows hard, trying to piece together a response. “I don’t really know him. He seems competent enough.” 

“Oh. Okay.” 

She’s still not looking at him, and something about that has Frank’s heart beating uncomfortably hard in his chest. 

“Why do you ask?” he says around the lump that’s formed in his throat. 

“No reason,” Mel shakes her head. “Just… something Samira said.” 

“Mohan?” 

“Yeah.” She shoots him a sheepish smile before turning her attention back to her jeans. “She… She thought maybe he was flirting with me. I don’t think it’s true. I just…” 

Frank Langdon is very rarely at a loss for words, but he’s got absolutely no response to that. He grabs the Gatorade bottle from its spot at his feet and chugs half of its remaining contents to give him a minute to formulate a response. 

He hasn’t been around the two of them together enough to fully judge for himself, although the fact that the other man clearly also knows Mel’s boba order is troubling. Mohan’s fucking perceptive though. If she thinks the new guy is flirting with Mel, he almost definitely is. Why wouldn’t he be? Mel’s… amazing. She’s kind and loyal, and beautiful in her own understated way. Anyone would be lucky to be with her. Hell, Frank… 

His thoughts are cut short when Tanner once again gets his hands on the ball. The ref graciously doesn’t call his double dribble or his obvious walk as he makes his way down the court to line up his shot. Their entire group is suddenly all on the edges of their seats as they wait to see if he makes it. 

He clutches the ball tightly between his small hands, glancing to his family with a self-assured grin curling up the corners of his mouth that Frank knows was inherited from him. And then he heaves the ball up in a perfect arc toward the net, and the crowd once again erupts in cheers. 

Frank glances over at Mel, face alight with joy, and something painful clenches in his chest.  

“Do you want it to be true?” he asks once the crowd has quieted down. 

Her brow furrows for just a minute before she picks back up the thread of their conversation. 

“I don’t think it is.” She shakes her head. “I mean, he’s… And I’m…” 

“Hey,” he interrupts. “Don’t. Mel, you’re…” 

His hand moves unthinkingly to rest on her thigh, giving it a brief squeeze. Mel’s eyes flicker between his hand and his face, an unspoken question in her eyes that makes his heart race uncomfortably hard. 

“Daddy, I’m thirsty,” Penny says. 

“Here, bug,” Abby says, handing their daughter her pink Disney Princess water bottle. 

By the time Frank glances back over to Mel, Becca has snagged her attention. The two sisters sit with their heads pressed close together as they quietly discuss something. It’s only then that Frank realizes his hand is still resting on Mel’s thigh. It feels unexpectedly right. 

The contact doesn’t last long. Penny reaches for his forearms to wrap his arms around her, a sure sign she’s fighting sleep as she snuggles back against him. Frank presses a kiss to the side of his daughter’s head, but he watches the blond on his left out of the corner of his eye. And he can’t help but wonder if he misses the contact as much as he does. 

…

“Mel, enough,” Frank groans a few nights later, closing his eyes and tipping his head back against the couch as he rubs the bridge of his nose. 

“But you’re almost done,” Mel replies. “There are only 20 cards left in this deck.” 

“I won’t remember them, anyway,” he groans. “My brain’s fucking mush. Can we please just watch Grey’s Anatomy now?”    

“Your boards are in a month and a half,” she says, fingers trailing along the edges of the cards. “We should stick to the study plan.”  

“Pointing out everything Hollywood gets wrong about hospitals is basically studying, right?” 

He opens one eye and glances at the opposite end of his lumpy, too-low couch he’d bought off Facebook Marketplace, where Mel is curled up in leggings, an oversized sweatshirt, and purple fuzzy socks that are just peaking out from where she’s got her legs tucked up under her and the world’s largest stack of flashcards in her lap. She’s been helping him study for his boards for the last month and a half, showing up at the park, or the zoo, or his house, armed with a mountain of flashcards, all covered in her neat, blocky handwriting in various shades of ink. 

Frank knows he wouldn’t be half so prepared without her. He’d been halfheartedly swiping through Quizlets in his limited spare time before she’d offered to help. But he’d much rather get on to the next part of their evening, critiquing hospital shows and roasting the shit out of the fake doctors on screen. It’s their mutual guilty pleasure on the rare occasions when Becca wants to stay at the center, and the kids are with Abby. 

Mel glances at the deck and then over at him before shuffling them, a clear sign they’re done for the night, and Frank has to smother the triumphant grin that threatens to steal across his face. Reaching for the remote that sits on his battered coffee table, he’s just pulled up Netflix when he glances over at her and frowns when he spots the troubled expression on her face as she still listlessly shuffles the index cards. 

“Everything okay over there?” He leans forward, attempting to catch her eye.   

“Fine,” Mel says, shooting him a closed-lipped smile before turning her attention back to the cards.   

“You want to watch something else?” 

“No.” She shakes her head. 

“You want to tell me what’s bothering you all of a sudden?” 

“It’s nothing.” 

Frank is never gonna let her play poker. Mel’s face is so expressive, she’d get cleaned out every time. 

“You wanna try that again?” he asks. “I’m not quite sure I’m convinced.” 

Mel glances over in his direction again, chewing on the inside of her cheek. 

“Do you think we’ll still be friends once we don’t work together anymore?”

Of all the things he thought might be bothering her, that certainly hadn’t appeared anywhere on his list. It’s just not fathomable to him– the two of them no longer being friends. They’ve only been in each other’s lives for less than a year, but Mel is his best friend. She’s the first person he wants to tell every joke that pops into his head, or when his kids do something funny, or cute, or terrible. The first person he asks to spend any of his limited free time with. He can’t imagine that changing. 

“Of course we will,” he says, brow furrowed. “Is that really something you’re worried about?” 

“It’s not not something I’m worried about,” she replies with a shrug as she picks at a loose thread on the cuff of her sweatshirt.   

“You want to tell me why?” 

“You’re just gonna be working somewhere else,” Mel says. “We probably won’t see each other every day anymore. And you’ll make new friends.”  

“Maybe.” Frank shakes his head. 

It will be nice to work somewhere where his past doesn’t hang quite so darkly over his head. Where none of his coworkers had front row seats to the worst day of his life. But he also hates the idea of not working with Mel anymore. Of never having her there to pull in on a case with him, never getting to see her face light up when they manage to diagnose the cause behind a patient’s mysterious symptoms. 

Frank has always made friends easily. He can shoot the shit with just about anyone. What he has with Mel is different, though. That first shift they’d shared, the two of them had just clicked in a way that he’s not quite sure he’s ever clicked with anyone before. She might not be the first to get his jokes, but her laugh when she does is always genuine. She’s the first person who’s ever been able to finish his sentence, often holding out something to him in the ER before he even goes to grab it. 

Not working with her anymore is gonna feel a bit like losing a limb. There might be people he gets along with at whatever hospital he lands at. He might make a friend or two. But no one else is ever going to brighten his day just by existing in his vicinity the way she does. 

“Mel,” he says after a pause. “No one is gonna be you. You know you’re special, right?”

“Special?” 

She perks up at the word, and it warms something inside his chest. 

“Yeah,” Frank smiles at her. “What we’ve got… I think it's pretty unique.”   

“Really?” 

“Do you not think so?” 

“No,” Mel shakes her head. “I do. I just… Sometimes I think I make more of things than they really are in my head. And people don’t always feel the same. Which is fine. I just… 

“Hey,” he cuts her off, stretching an arm along the back of the couch to reach over and lightly touch her shoulder. “That’s not something you’re ever gonna have to worry about with me. Okay?” 

She studies his face, eyes darting from one feature to another.  

“Okay,” she says eventually.  

The word hangs heavy in the air between them for a moment, her throat working like she’s swallowing back something else she wants to say. But nothing comes.  

“Come here?” Frank offers, arm open in invitation. 

Hugging is a relatively new addition to their friendship. Mel is cautious about touch. She doesn’t like being surprised by it, so Frank always tries to vocalize his intent. Tries to give her a moment to decide if she wants it or not. Sometimes, the answer is a clear no. But other times, like now, she practically melts into him. 

“You know you’re never gonna be rid of me, right?” he says as he gives her a gentle squeeze. “Even if we don’t work together anymore, I’m gonna be at your door at least once a week for more of Becca’s chocolate chip cookies.” 

Or any of her baked goods, really. Becca King is an amazing baker. Frank loves her chocolate chip cookies. And her blueberry muffins. And her lemon bars. 

“I’ll keep her supplies well stocked,” Mel promises, sagging a little more into him. “Can we watch Grey’s now?” 

“Of course we can.” 

He reaches for the remote again, half expecting her to move back to her own side of the couch. She doesn’t. She stays pressed to his side, her head a pleasantly heavy weight against his shoulder. Well, it’s pleasant for about thirty minutes. Until the joint falls asleep. 

Glancing down at the woman curled up against him, something in his chest clenches at the sight of her closed eyes and peaceful expression. Night shift has really been fucking with her sleep schedule, and she’s fast asleep. He wants to move. Wants to relieve the pins and needles feeling that’s coursing down his arm. But Mel looks so fucking peaceful, he can’t bring himself to do it. 

Frank should wake her up. Bundle her off into her ancient Honda and send her home and to bed. And he will. Eventually. When the episode is over. It might be a little selfish. It just feels too right to let her go just yet. 

…

“Tanner, get down from there before you break your arm!” Frank calls to his son that Friday afternoon 

The six-year-old is perched atop the monkey bars, attempting to leap from rung to rung. Tanner turns his head in acknowledgment of the sound of his name, making eye contact with his father across the busy playground. Frank sucks in a breath as he lets go of the top of the monkey bars to wave before continuing to leapfrog across the top. 

“Abby’s gonna fucking kill me if he falls,” Frank mutters to the blonde at his side. 

It’s a lower set of monkey bars. His kid’s only about four feet off the ground, and Frank can vividly remember doing the same at a playground when he was about Tanner’s age. But he knows all too well the 27 different things that could go wrong and end their day with a trip to the Pitt. Now he wonders how his mother didn’t die of heart failure over some of his childhood exploits. There was a particularly memorable one with a skateboard on the roof that he hopes Tanner never hears about.  

Parenting is not for the fucking weak. 

“I’ll be right back,” he says, pushing himself up off the bench to jog over to his son and pluck him off the top of the monkey bars and send him off in the direction of the boat-shaped playground. 

It’s warm for mid-May, the air sticky with all the rain they’ve been getting. But the watery, late-afternoon sunshine is the first they’ve had in days, and the kids were so full of energy when he’d picked them up from school and daycare, a trip to the park to burn some of it off seemed like the best solution. 

Penny had asked if Becca could come too, almost as soon as he’d declared their destination. The younger King sister is practically his daughter’s favorite person on the planet, so he’d texted Mel while stopped at a red light to extend the invitation. It had taken her a little longer than usual to respond, but about ten minutes later, she’d replied that she and Becca would meet them there for a few hours before her shift.    

Because God, or more likely one Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinivich, is punishing Frank, Mel is still on nights. It doesn’t feel like a mere coincidence that, after sharing nearly every shiftfor the better part of a year, their schedules no longer align now that Frank’s started applying for open attending positions at a few of the other local hospitals. 

For some reason, it seems to irritate his former mentor. Robby can’t quite forgive him for hiding his drug addiction enough for the two of them to work together permanently, but he also seems to resent Frank for leaving PTMC. Like Frank has any choice in the matter. 

It’s true he could have stuck around for at least another year. He’d once planned on doing a fellowship after his residency, had a spot in his dream program all but guaranteed pre-rehab. Now, the sting of that loss is still a little too great to settle for something else. Besides, he doesn’t actually need to complete a fellowship to get a job as an attending. Child support and alimony aren’t fucking cheap, and Frank’s more than ready to start making an attending’s salary. Maybe then he can pay for his half of Penny’s daycare and replace the discount mattress he’s been sleeping on for the last six months that fucks with his back. 

Mel smiles at him as he approaches their usual bench, the spray freckles on her nose already a little more prominent thanks to the hour of afternoon sun, and he feels an all too familiar pang in his chest somewhere in the region of his solar plexus. 

Afternoons like this are already rare with the two of them working at the same hospital. He’d promised her just a few days ago that nothing is gonna change between them when he moves to a new hospital. He’s gonna do his damnedest not to let that be an empty promise, but he still wants to make the most of the time they have left together.  

“You and Becks want to get early dinner?” Frank asks, pulling out his phone glancing at the time as he retakes his seat. “If we round up my monsters in twenty minutes or so, we could probably make it to the Chinese place with the noodles Becca likes. I can drop her off at the center for you on our way home.” 

“Oh,” Mel’s face falls, and she averts her gaze. “Becca and I can’t tonight. We’ve got to get to the center a little early.” 

“She have a class or something?” 

“No.” 

Frank waits for her to continue, but Mel just sits there twisting her fingers into knots. 

She’s hiding something. 

The thought is as intriguing as it is troubling. Mel doesn’t hide things. Not from him.

He sits there for a moment at a loss for words, and for maybe the first time in their ten-month friendship, an uncomfortable silence settles between them. Then he remembers their conversation from a little over a week ago at Tanner’s basketball game. And he’d bet anything that Kevin Fucking Miller has something to do with it. 

Frank’s been watching the two of them for the last few days, or maybe glowering at Miller if Dana is to be believed. It’s the only good thing about Mel being on nights, that their interactions at work are typically limited. But Mohan’s suggestion that the new attending is flirting with Mel, his Mel, has haunted Frank for reasons he can’t fully explain. Not even to himself. He can’t bring himself to ask about the other man directly, so he settles on a more ambiguous response. 

“You have plans with someone else?” he asks, swallowing hard. 

“Kind of..” 

Mel shrugs and sneaks a peek in his direction, like she’s afraid of his reaction, and it’s all the confirmation he needs. 

“Oh.” 

It’s all he can think to say, and they sit there again in awkward silence. 

“It’s not what you think,” she says eventually. 

“What do you think I think?” 

“That it’s a date.” Mel’s cheeks flush scarlet at the word. “And it’s not. It’s definitely not that. Becca and I are meeting him at the center. He’s got a brother who…” 

 “You’re introducing him to Becca?”

Mel recoils at the naked accusation in his tone, and Frank hates himself a little for it. 

“What…” she sputters. “What is that supposed to mean?” 

“How long have we even known this guy?” Frank retorts. “A month?” 

That is not what he meant to say. Or how he meant to say it. God, he’s fucking this up.  

“Becca is an adult, Frank,” Mel says. “I asked her if she’d be willing to give Dr. Miller a tour of the center because he has a brother who is also autistic, and his parents are thinking about moving here. She said yes.” 

“That’s…” He blows out a heavy breath and shakes his head. “That’s not what I meant…” 

“And Becca’s welfare is my responsibility,” she continues, rising to her feet. “I take that very seriously. And the fact that you think I’d put my sister in jeopardy or something…” 

“I don’t…” 

“Or that you don’t respect me enough to trust my judgement…” 

“Mel…” 

He unthinkingly reaches out and grabs her hand, the contact instantly cutting off her tirade. He’s never held her hand before. It’s so much smaller than his own; her skin soft despite the copious amounts of hand sanitizer they use at the hospital every day. His thumb unthinkingly strokes her palm just once before she snatches her hand back and crosses her arms protectively over her chest. 

“Dr. Miller is just a friend,” she says.

To a patch of dirt. Not to him. She won’t even look at him. It doesn’t stop Frank from seeing the naked hurt on her face.  

“Mel, I’m…” He licks his lips and blows out a heavy breath. “I’m sorry… I just…” 

He trails off, shaking his head, unsure of what else to say.

It’s not that he doesn’t trust Mel or even that he thinks Miller has any ill intent towards the King sisters. The guy really is a fucking saint. Frank had overheard Whitaker the day before just mention the hospital’s street team, and Miller immediately asked how he could join. If anyone could be trusted around Mel and Becca, it’s him. 

But something in his chest clenches at the sheer wrongness of it. He’s probably just being selfish. Mel should have friends other than just him. She’s a fucking fantastic friend. And if she wants to be more than friends with someone… 

“Becca and I are gonna go,” she says, glancing at the time on her phone. 

Then she turns away without waiting for a response. 

It strikes him with all the force of a physical blow. Mel practically marches over to the swings, Becca and Penny coming to a stop on their swings at her approach. The two sisters have a brief conversation before Mel kneels in front of Penny, giving the girl a brief hug before sending her off in Frank’s direction. His eyes flicker between his daughter as she skips towards him and Mel, who stands there for a moment watching to make sure Penny gets to him safely. Then she turns away, leading her clearly confused sister to the parking lot. 

“Daddy, can we get pizza for dinner?” Penny asks as she reaches him, scrambling up into his lap. 

“What, monkey?” he says, eyes on the two sisters making their way to Mel’s ancient sedan. 

“Pizza?” Penny places her small hands on either side of his face and forces him to look in her direction. “Puh-lease?” 

“Of course we can.” 

“Yay!” 

She throws her arms around his neck and squeezes with enough might to leave him gasping for air. By the time he catches his breath and glances over toward the parking lot, the King sisters are gone, and an uncomfortable weight settles in his gut. 

…

“Mommy!” Penny and Tanner cry in unison as they burst into the house through the door to the garage, Frank close on their heels, cartoon backpacks in hand. 

Abby never changed the locks of the house her parents bought for them in Fox Chapel when he’d placed at PTMC, and he still has a clicker for the garage door clipped to the sunshade of his SUV, but it’s a little weird stepping into his former kitchen where Abby and Jess are sitting at the large island, the remnants of their dinner and a bottle of wine scattered across the bright white countertop. 

“There’s my babies.” Abby slides off her stool to crouch down and scoop both kids into her arms, pressing a kiss to one sauce-covered cheek, then the other. “Did you have fun with Daddy?” 

Abby glances up at him, a faintly annoyed expression on her face as she takes in the state of their children, and Frank shrugs. He’d done his best to clean them up at the restaurant, but the place had been chaos, the line for the family bathroom seven moms with toddlers deep when he’d tried to get them in there to wash their faces and hands. After waiting nine minutes, he’d given up. They need baths after the park anyway.  

“This much fun,” Penny replies, leaning back in her mother’s embrace and flinging her arms wide. “Becca taught me how to swing on the swing all by myself! I went so high.” 

“She did, did she?” Abby and Jess exchange a pointed look over the kids’ heads. “I can’t wait to see! But I think it might be time to get ready for bed. Say goodnight to Daddy so we can head upstairs, okay?”  

“But I wanted Daddy to read me the train book tonight,” Tanner whines, lower lip jutted out as his big blue eyes shift between his parents. 

Instances like this are getting less frequent than they were in the beginning. Tanner and Penny are getting used to one of their parents not being there every night at bedtime to read their bedtime story or tuck them in. But it breaks Frank’s fucking heart every time it happens. 

“Oh, buddy,” Abby sighs, stroking their son’s dark hair. “Daddy’s got…” 

“I can stick around for a bit,” he offers with a shrug. “If that’s okay with you… Divide and conquer?” 

Abby glances between their two kids, now sporting matching pouts on mouths identical to Frank’s own, and sighs before nodding in acquiescence. She really is far too good to him. Frank knows he probably shouldn’t have offered. This is Abby’s custody time, and they’ve got to learn boundaries. 

But bedtime is the part of his kids’ lives he misses the most. It was the one part of their daily routine he was almost always home for, and he’d always been the weakest link between him and Abby, the more susceptible to pleas for five more minutes in the bath or just one more story. After a bad shift, nothing soothes his soul quite like having his kids curled up against his sides as he reads to them about Pete the Cat, or the Pout Pout Fish, or one of the battered Curious George books from his own childhood.

Tanner is showered and tucked into bed in record time, the six-year-old’s eyes fluttering closed during his second bedtime story before Thomas the Train pulls back into the station. Frank stays longer than he should, back propped against the wooden headboard as his son curls into his side, breathing deep and even in sleep. He can just make out Abby and Penny’s voices through the shared wall, and can imagine all too vividly the conversation happening in his daughter’s pale pink bedroom. Frank’s mom got her an anthology book of princess stories for Christmas, and Penny’s been insistent ever since that the hundred or so pages count as one book at bedtime for months.

The negotiations are still going strong when he finally slips out a few minutes later. Frank lingers in the hallway outside his daughter’s door, unsure if his intervention will make things better or worse. With Pen, it really could go either way. But it sounds like Abby has things in hand, so he creeps back down the stairs to the kitchen, where Jess is still sitting at the bar, tapping at her phone with one hand and topping off her wine glass with the other. 

“You want to finish this off?” Jess asks, holding up the bottle and inspecting the three inches or so of remaining liquid in the bottom. “I’ve gotta drive home eventually, and Abby cannot go to the Thompson twins’ birthday party tomorrow hungover.” 

“No thanks,” Frank shakes his head. “Can’t do anything that fucks with my sobriety. Alcohol’s at the top of the list.” 

“Good,” she replies, face suddenly serious as her eyes appraise him for a moment before pouring the last of the wine into her glass. “That was a test. And I wouldn’t have given you any anyway. Not your house anymore, so I no longer have to be nice to you here. Kids asleep?” 

“Tanner is. Hostage negotiations with Pen are ongoing.” 

“Girl knows what she wants.” Jess chuckles and shakes her head. 

“And exactly how to get it.” 

She raises her wine in his direction before taking a sip as Frank moves to grab a water glass from the drying rack by the sink and fill it from the fridge dispenser.

“So,” she says just as he raises the glass to his lips. “What’s going on with you and Dr. Sunshine?”  

Water goes everywhere. Up his nose. Down his windpipe. All over his dark green Henley. Sprays across the counter. As he sputters and chokes, attempting to clear his airways, Jess just watches, her hazel eyes appraising.

“You mean Mel?” he wheezes, setting the glass down on the white quartz with a loud thunk. 

“You two official yet or what?” 

“We’re not.” Frank shakes his head. “We’re not together…”  

“Cut the shit, Langdon,” Jess replies, somehow managing to look as imperious as a queen even in her ratty leggings and Mount Holyoke sweatshirt. “Abby and I know you have been dating or whatever for at least three months.”  

“Mel and I are just friends.” 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” she says, shaking her head. 

“I’m serious. Nothing’s going on.” 

“Huh.” 

“What?” he asks, brow furrowed. 

“Nothing.” Jess shrugs and takes another sip of her wine. “I was just thinking that if you still looked at my best friend the way you look at Mel, you two would probably still be married.” 

“I don’t…” 

“Frank, I’ve known you and that stupid face of yours for ten years. You absolutely do.”   

“We really are just friends,” he replies, folding his arms across his chest. 

“You know it’s fine if you are, right? Like, I actually want you to start dating again.” 

“Really?”

“Well, no.” Jess shrugs. “You broke my best friend’s heart, so I’m contractually obligated to want you to die alone in a hole somewhere. But if you start dating again, I think Abby will. And I want to set her up with this stupid hot guy from the finance department at work.” 

“Aren’t you single?” Frank replies, frowning. 

“Yeah, but I saw him eat a burrito once at a work thing. Gave me the ick.” 

“And you still think he’s good enough for Abby?” 

“He’s great with kids and makes a crazy amount of money,” she says. “I’ll tell her not to let him take her to a Chipotle for at least six months.” 

“Fair enough,” he shrugs and slowly raises the glass of water back to his lips to take another sip. 

It should bother him, he thinks, to hear about his ex-wife dating again, and somewhere deep down, there is a twinge of something. But he mostly just feels relief at the idea that they really could just both move on. That their divorce really wasn’t the end of the world. In one of their super-mature co-parenting therapy sessions, they’d discussed what would happen if the two of them started dating again, how long they’d wait before introducing a new partner to the kids, and all that. Although if he and Mel did get together, that timeline would already be shot to hell… 

“Why do you look like you just stuck a fork in a socket?” Jess asks. 

“No reason.” Frank shakes his head. 

“You were thinking about Mel, weren’t you?” 

“How did you…” 

“You ever wonder how I cleaned you at all those poker nights we used to have when I was dating Josh?”

“Because you were counting cards?” 

“Well, yes,” she says. “But that’s how I cleaned Josh out. Not you. You’ve got a shit poker face.” 

“I do not. I’m fucking great at poker.” 

“It’s the eyes, Langdon. They telegraph every thought in that pretty head of yours.” 

“You think I’m pretty, huh?” he asks with a wide grin, leaning back against the counter. 

“You know what you look like.” Jess rolls her eyes and takes another sip of her wine. “So does Mel, by the way.” 

“What?” 

“Aren’t doctors supposed to be smart?” she asks, one eyebrow high on her forehead. “It’s almost disgusting watching the two watch each other at Tanner’s basketball games every week. All doe-eyed and shit. That’s why Abs and I thought you were already together and just didn’t want to tell her.” 

Frank swallows hard, his mind flickering through its catalog of images of one Dr. Mel King. He sees her at the hospital. At the park. At the zoo. At her townhouse. He sees her smiling at a joke he made. Frowning at a patient’s chart. He sees her angry that time when a new intern made a joke at an autistic patient’s expense. He sees moments when their eyes meet, and the way her lips seem to automatically quirk up and her shoulders relax. 

But he also sees the way she smiled at Miller the other morning.   

“I think you might be wrong about this one, Jess.” 

“How dare you. I’m never wrong about…” 

“I think she might be into someone else,” he cuts her off, spinning his glass mindlessly against the countertop. 

Jess laughs, long and hard, the sound bouncing off the cabinets to echo across the space. 

Frank stares at her, nonplussed. 

“I’m sorry,” she says, wiping tears from the corners of her eyes. “You’ve said a lot of ridiculous things in the ten years I’ve known you, Frank. But that… That’s one for the books. Wait until I tell Abby…” 

“You haven’t seen…” 

“I don’t need to,” Jess says. “I’ve seen her plenty with you. And you’re an even bigger idiot than I already think you are if you don’t see what’s right in front of you.” 

Her words sting, the pain ricocheting through his chest. Has he really missed something in his relationship with Mel? Does she see him as more than a friend? Is there really more than friendship between them? 

It’s all too much. He’s got to get out of there.  

“Great chat, as always, Jess.” He dumps the last of the water in his glass down the kitchen sink. “I should get home. Tell Abs I said goodbye?” 

“Will do.” 

There’s a 50/50 chance that she won’t, but Frank… has to get out of there. He’s got some serious thinking to do. 

…

It’s a long 34 hours between when he leaves Abby’s house on Friday night and when Frank pulls into the hospital’s employee parking garage a full 45 minutes before his Sunday shift. Mel likes to be early, and he doesn’t want to miss her arrival. She had Saturday off to adjust her sleep schedule before her return to the day shift, so he didn’t see her, and his phone sat ominously silent in his pocket all day except for a series of texts from Tanner sent from Abby’s pilfered phone on Saturday afternoon requesting a trip to a new trampoline park on his father’s next day off.   

Usually, Mel would check in on how his day was going and offer little updates about what she and Becca were up to. If her sister made her watch Elf again, or if Mel was able to coax her into watching something else for once. He started half a dozen or more texts to her himself in the few spare moments he got, attempting to put into words how sorry he is for his behavior at the park on Friday, without giving away any of the more complicated feelings that have been swirling around in his chest. But nothing sounded right, and he deleted them all. 

It’s the first fight they’ve ever had. Frank hates it. Hates that he caused it. Hates how unsettled he was after his subsequent conversation with Jess. And hates how fucking nervous he feels as he sits in the parking garage waiting for the distinctive sound of her engine coming up the ramp, a cup from her favorite boba place sweating in the cup holder of his center console, waiting to be extended as an olive branch. 

With one eye on the rearview mirror and one on the clock on the dash, he mentally rehearses what he’s going to say when Mel gets there. For all the thinking, considering, and formulating he’s done over the last day and a half, he still feels like he doesn’t have any answers. His former diagnosis of their relationship as just a friendship now feels incomplete. But without further conversation between them, he’s not quite sure what to make of it instead. 

Does Mel see him as more than just a friend? Does she want them to be more than friends? Does he want them to be more than friends? Frank feels like he genuinely doesn’t know. It’s not that he’s not attracted to Mel. He is. She’s so goddamn pretty sometimes, when she shakes her hair out of its braid after a long shift or when she smiles at him, it hits like a physical blow to the chest. But he’s done his best to put those moments aside, unwilling to jeopardize the friendship that means more to him than just about any he’s ever had in his life. 

What he does know is that they have to talk. The sooner the better. 

Mel doesn’t seem to share his desire to try and clear the air between them, though, because she might be the latest she’s ever been in her year and a half at PTMC, pulling into a spot a full six cars down from his own only 20 minutes before the start of their shift. She’s slow to get out of the car, and he can perfectly envision the pep talk she’s probably giving herself. It both helps and makes him feel like an even bigger asshole than he already does that she’s clearly still as rattled by their fight as he is. 

Climbing out of his SUV, Frank grabs his backpack and the plastic cup in his center console before walking over to her car to wait. He can see her moving around inside, gathering up her things for the day. Her backpack. Her favorite water bottle. The pink unicorn lunchbox Penny insisted on getting her for Christmas. She glances up at her rearview mirror and starts when she spies him in reflection, her lips automatically quirking up in a smile for a moment before settling into a troubled frown. 

“Hey,” he says, extending the arm holding Mel’s drink in her direction as she emerges from her Honda. 

“Hey.” Her voice comes out small and hesitant as she reaches for the cup. 

Frank wasn’t sure it was possible to hate himself even more than he already does, but the wounded look in her big brown eyes as they meet his hits him like a punch to the gut. 

“It might be a little watered down,” he says. “ I bought it a… while ago. But I wanted to apologize. I’m sorry, Mel. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that on Friday.” 

She visibly relaxes at his words, and it somehow makes him feel even worse. 

“It’s okay,” she replies, offering him a hesitant smile in response. 

Whatever his complicated feelings are, Melissa King is entirely too good for him. Too good to him. Far better than he deserves. 

“No, it’s not.” He shakes his head. “I was an asshole. You’re a great sister, and Miller’s a good guy. I shouldn’t have reacted like that.”  

“Thank you.  And I’m sorry I stormed off. I don’t… I don’t like fighting with you. ” 

“Don’t be,” Frank replies, offering her a lopsided smile. “I deserved it, but I don’t much like fighting with you either. We good?” 

“Yes,” she says immediately, relief written all over her face. “We’re good.”

“Come here?” 

Mel studies his face for a moment before nodding and stepping into his open arms. She’s the perfect height to tuck her head beneath his chin as she wraps her arms around his waist and his band around her shoulders. She sighs, and a pang shoots through his chest as he feels her melt against him. 

“You know you’re really important to me, right?” he asks, thumbs stroking her shoulders. 

“I know.” She replies, voice muffled in the fabric of his sweatshirt. “You’re important to me, too.” 

She shuffles a little closer, arms tightening around his waist. Frank knows he should pull back. Their shift is starting soon. They should get inside. He just… He doesn’t want to let go. He never wants to let go. And suddenly, he knows exactly how he feels. They really do need to talk.  

“Hey,” he says as they finally pull apart and start to make their way to the elevator. “Becks is at the center again tonight, right?” 

“Yeah.” Mel nods, glancing up at him curiously.  

“Do you want to hang out tonight? Let me buy you another non-watered-down apology boba?” 

Frank shoves his hands in his pockets, rocking boyishly back on his heels as the elevator cables whir to life behind the metal door. 

“Okay.” Mel smiles up at him, all warmth and sunshine. “But you don’t have to pay…” 

“I want to,” he says, ushering her into the elevator as the doors slide open.   

He wants to do everything for her. If she’ll let him. 

…

Frank is having a fucking great day after making up with Mel. The ER is busy, but not unbearably so. He treats two ankle sprains, removes a quarter from a toddler’s nose, and resets the shoulder of a cyclist who was clipped by a car before getting pulled into his first trauma of the day with Robby and Whitaker. 

It’s still a little weird sometimes, the three of them working as a trio. Frank always feels a little put off by the complicated dynamic of working side by side with his former mentor and the protege who took his place as ER golden boy. But Frank gets a nod for his quick thinking as they attempt to stabilize the teenager who had fallen off some scaffolding on the side of a building he and his buddies were messing around on, and that crumb of approval is about as good as it gets for him these days. 

“So, I got a call from Presby the other day,” Robby says as they step out of the trauma room, snapping off his gloves to toss them in the garbage can and reaching for the hand sanitizer dispenser on the wall. 

“Oh?” Frank says, a lump suddenly rising in his throat.

Of all the hospitals he’s applied to, Presby’s at the top of his list. It’s the closest to his townhouse and Tanner’s school. They don’t get as many traumas at PTMC, but it's still a great hospital with an amazing benefits package. And he won’t suddenly have to cross the entire city to get to work, or worse, take a job in the suburbs far out from all the action.   

“Told them they’d be getting a damn good doctor if you accept their offer.” Robby shrugs, glancing at Frank out of the corner of his eye with a faint smile. 

“Really?” 

Frank stops dead in his tracks to stare at Robby, a mixture of confusion and vulnerability welling up inside him. For almost a year, he’s felt nearly desperate to regain even a fraction of the approval he used to have. And now that he has it… Now that he’s on the cusp of leaving… It’s almost as kind as it is cruel. 

“You’ll probably hear from them any day. Although I wouldn’t accept the offer too quick if I were you.”

“What?” 

Frank’s almost never reduced to single-word sentences. His mom’s favorite joke is that he came out of the womb with entirely too much to say. That she thought she was getting a lawyer instead of a doctor. But this unexpected conversation has him tongue-tied. 

“Unless you’re really looking to leave…” 

“No,” Frank shakes his head. “No, I’m not… Not if I don’t have to. But Miller…” 

“Dr. Miller isn’t going anywhere,” Robby says. “But a little birdie might have told me about another opportunity on the horizon…” 

“Are you saying…” 

“I’m not making any promises here,” Robby says, raising his hands, palms outward. “Just gauging interest.” 

“I’m interested,” Frank immediately replies. 

“And your interest is noted.”  

Then Robby walks away, leaving Frank standing there, dumbstruck and staring at the older man’s retreating figure.   

He wants to find Mel and tell her immediately, glancing up at the board to see what patient she’s picked up in the last twenty minutes and where he might find her. She’s got a kid who was brought in because of excessive vomiting, and he’s about to head in that direction when he stops in his tracks. 

Frank can’t tell her yet. What if it doesn’t pan out? He can’t disappoint her like that. But he still feels lighter walking through the hospital than he has in almost a year, fighting back a grin as he makes his way to the break room to grab an energy drink to go with the protein bar in his pocket for a late breakfast. He’d been too nervous waiting for Mel that morning to eat. He’s just popped the tab on his Celsius when the door to the break room swings open and Kevin Miller walks through. 

Because of course he does. 

“Hey,” Frank says, nodding in the other man’s direction before pulling the blueberry-flavored bar from his pocket and ripping open the wrapper. 

“Hey, man,” Miller replies, a wide, friendly smile on his face. “Nice work with that kid from the construction site.” 

“Thanks,” Frank mutters, as graciously as he can. 

The compliment seems genuine, but it still makes him bristle for reasons he doesn’t want to name, and a tense silence settles between them.  

Miller moves to the coffee maker, pulling a styrofoam cup off the stack and dumping a couple of sugar packets into the bottom before reaching for the pot to dump in its sludgy contents as well. Miller makes a face when he sees the consistency and sighs. 

“Is the coffee always like this?” he asks, staring down into the bottom of the cup. 

“Wouldn’t know.” Frank shrugs and picks up his energy drink to take a sip. “But Dana makes it, and word is she likes hers to resemble an oil slick.” 

“Mission accomplished.” 

Miller grimaces as he raises the cup to his lips and takes a tentative sip, and Frank has to fight back a snort at the look that crosses the other man’s face when the liquid hits his taste buds. 

“Wow. Dana is one hell of a woman if this is how she drinks her coffee every day.” 

“That she is.” Frank chuckles and shakes his head. 

“Speaking of women…” Miller stares down into the cup, tilting the cup to swirl around its contents, and Frank swears he can see the tips of the man’s ears turning pink. “Sorry if I’m overstepping or something here. But… You and Dr. King… You’re close, right?” 

“You could say that, yeah.” Frank nods, every muscle in his body suddenly tense. 

“Do you know if she’s seeing anyone?” 

Frank opens his mouth and then closes it again. Robby had just reduced him to one-word responses. But now he’s got none. 

It’s not that he hadn’t known this was coming, or at least suspected. Miller’s been entirely too obvious in his interest in Mel. With the boba and getting Mel and Becca to give him a tour of Becca’s facility. But Frank hadn’t thought he’d be the one confronted by the other man’s feelings. 

An awkward silence hangs in the air between them, and Miller’s face is fully red. Frank would laugh if his lungs didn’t feel frozen solid inside his chest.  

“I’m sorry.” Miller reaches up a hand to rub the back of his neck. “That was inappropriate. I’m just new at this whole attending thing. I probably shouldn’t even be interested…” 

“No,” Frank shakes his head. 

The word pops out, and he’s not quite sure what he meant to say after. No, Mel isn’t seeing anyone? No, Miller shouldn’t be interested? No, he does not want to be having this conversation right now? While Frank has a half-baked plan to hopefully change the answer to that first one in the not-so-distant future, it’s still true for now, and if there’s a chance for him to stick around PTMC after all, he doesn’t want to make things any more awkward with Miller than they’re inevitably going to be if things work out the way Frank hopes they will. 

And Mel deserves to make a choice. He shouldn’t make it for her.  

“No. She’s not. Seeing anyone.” 

The words feel like they were dragged kicking and screaming out of his throat, and he reaches for his energy drink, where it sweats on the counter, to take a large swig. 

“Cool.” Miller grins, shoulders relaxing from where they’ve crept up near his ears. “Do you know if she likes Indian? I was thinking about asking her to dinner, and there’s this great place down the street from my apartment…” 

“She’s got some things with texture…” 

God, now he’s fucking helping another man try to woo his girl. His therapist has been helping him work through the masochistic tendencies that he’s developed since leaving rehab, and the man is gonna have a field day with this one.  

“What about Italian?” 

“Uh, yeah, she likes Italian.” 

“Great, guess I’ll find a place. Unless you’ve got a suggestion…” 

Fucking kill him now. He might be all too intent on punishing himself for his sins, but he will not be planning a date for someone else to take the woman he loves on… 

The thought makes him pause, Alani can halfway to his lips. Love. It’s the first time he’s ever thought the word in connection to Mel, but he’s more sure than he’s ever been that its the correct one. He loves her. Loves her kindness and her patience. Loves how good she is with her sister and his kids. Loves her Lavalamp app and the fact that she can quote entire Eminem albums. Hell, he’s probably loved her for the better part of the last year. He was just too goddamn blind to see it. 

“We should probably get back out there,” Frank says, nodding to the door. “Before Dana comes looking.” 

“Oh, right.” Miller smiles sheepishly and tosses his unfinished cup of coffee in the trash. 

Frank doesn’t push past the man on his way out the door. Miller politely gestures for him to exit first. Because the man is adding to his resume of canonization every goddamn day. But the childish urge is there. The look Dana shoots them as they emerge is entirely too knowing, and Frank gives her a wide berth as he picks up his next patient and heads in the direction of their exam room. 

After getting the woman set up on an IV drip of meds to help manage her migraine pain, he makes his way back toward the charge desk to pick up another patient to find Mel there, Miller already close at her side. 

Fuck that. 

“Dr. King,” he calls as he approaches. “Can I get your assistance with something?” 

“Of course.” Mel shoots the man next to her an apologetic smile before turning sharply on her heel to head in Frank’s direction. “Is everything okay?” 

“Fine,” he says, fingers curling around her upper arm as he leads her in the opposite direction of the charge desk. 

Mel glances between his hand and his face, brow furrowed in confusion as she struggles to keep up with his rapid steps. Frank tries to slow his pace with limited success. He doesn’t quite know where he’s leading her. His plan had just been to get them away. He’ll let her hear Miller out if that’s what she wants, but that doesn’t mean he’s not going to lay all his cards on the table first. After they round the corner so that they’re out of sight of the desk, he yanks open the first available door and ushers Mel inside. 

“Frank, what are we doing in a supply closet?” she asks.

He opens his mouth and closes it again. He really hadn’t had a plan there. The cramped space hardly feels like the place for what might be one of the most important conversations of his life. The boxes of gauze pads and tongue depressors hardly add to the ambience, but at least they hadn’t barged in on a patient.  

“Miller’sgoingtoaskyoutodinner,” he says, the words all rushing out at once. 

“What?” 

“Miller.” Frank takes a deep breath and wills his heart to stop beating so hard inside his chest. “He’s going to ask you to dinner.” 

“Oh,” Mel replies, brow furrowed. “That’s nice of him. We already have plans, though… Right?” 

“Mel, he wants to ask you on a date.” 

“Oh.” Her eyes widen, pupils going unfocused as she processes the information. “So Samira was right? He was flirting with me?” 

“Apparently so.” 

“Oh.” 

“How do you feel about that?” he asks, thumb unconsciously stroking her upper arm. 

“Umm,” Mel’s gaze flickers between his hand and his face. “Flattered, I guess? How do you know…” 

“He cornered me in the break room.” 

“I see...” 

“Mel, don’t go to dinner with him.” 

He doesn’t mean to say it. He’d wanted to let her come to the decision all on her own. But the words are out before he can bite them back. 

“Why?” she asks, brow furrowed. “You said this morning he’s a good guy…” 

“I know,” Frank says. “And he is. But that doesn’t mean I want you to go to dinner with him. Not when I want you to go with me instead.” 

“But we are…” she trails off as she pieces together his meaning. “Wait. You want to go on a date with me?” 

“Is that so hard to believe?” Frank’s hand comes up entirely on its own to cup her cheek, thumb brushing away the single tear that slips from her eye. 

Happy or sad, it still breaks his goddamn heart. 

“Kind of?” The words come out with a sound that’s part laugh, part sob. “I just… I don’t… This is all just very Grey’s Anatomy.” 

“Mel, I…”  

“I have patients,” she says, putting as much space between them as the closet allows as she fumbles for the door. “I should get back to them.” 

He doesn’t want her to go. He wants her to stay. Wants to pull her close and hold her as tightly as he can. Wants to kiss her and see if she tastes as sweet as he imagines. But he can’t. He has to let her go. 

“Okay.” He nods, head hanging. 

“But we can talk later?” Mel asks hopefully, her hand lingering on the doorknob. 

“Of course we can,” Frank replies, offering her a lopsided smile. 

“Okay.” She exhales a shaky breath and then pushes open the door. “Later then.” 

“Yeah.” 

She offers him a weak smile before slipping out of the closet. Frank lets his head fall back against the metal shelves and winces. That is not how he thought that conversation was going to go. 

… 

Mel gives him a wide berth after that, practically scurrying off in the opposite direction any time their paths cross. They get pulled in on a trauma together, along with Mohan, McKay, and Robby in the early afternoon, but she doesn’t even so much as glance in his direction in all the chaos to get the patient intubated and off to surgery, and subsequently disappears again so quickly he’d half doubted she was there in the first place.   

His one consolation is that she seems to be avoiding Miller just as much. The man looks so confused by her sudden change in behavior, Frank would feel bad for him if he wasn’t reveling so much in their shared misery. 

She seems to have disappeared entirely by the time he’s ready to head home. She’s not in any of the trauma rooms, and her initials have disappeared from the board. Frank wants to ask, but he also doesn’t want to tip any of their coworkers and endure the “trouble in paradise” comments that will inevitably come his way. Eventually, he gives up and retreats to the locker room to change out of his scrubs and back into his street clothes, and makes his way slowly out to the parking garage. 

It’s only one floor, but the elevator ride still feels like the longest of his life. Frank doesn’t drink anymore. He avoids anything that could lower his inhibitions and make the benzos seem like a good idea again. But god could he use a beer as the elevator doors inch open. 

That’s when he spots her, leaning against the bumper of his SUV and studying the toes of her sneakers with such an intense focus she doesn’t hear him approach until he’s close enough to see the AirPod in her ear. He bets she’s listening to Lizzo. She always does when she needs a confidence boost. He’d gotten her a new pair of earbuds for her birthday, the ones with the noise-cancelling feature, and it works a little too well. She’s entirely unaware of his presence until they’re almost toe to toe and he reaches out to lightly touch her shoulder. 

She jolts like she was just struck with a livewire at the contact, and Frank can’t quite bite back his smile as she rips out the earbuds with one hand, the other on her chest to calm her racing heart. 

“Sorry,” he says, as she stows the tiny devices back into their case. “Didn’t mean to scare you.” 

“I should have left one out,” Mel replies, shaking her head ruefully. “But you just don’t get the same richness of sound with only one and I…” 

She trails off, wrapping her arms tightly around herself as she sneaks a peek up at his face. 

“Thought maybe you’d left already,” Frank says, fingers tight on the strap of his backpack as he studies her. 

“No.” Mel offers him a tentative smile. “We’re supposed to get boba, right?” 

“I didn’t…” He swallows hard. “I didn’t know if you still wanted that.” 

“I did!” she exclaims. “I do. I just… Got a little overwhelmed earlier.” 

“Mel, I’m sorry if I…” 

“Don’t be,” she says quickly. “Don’t be sorry. I don’t want you to be sorry. Not if you meant it… You did mean it, right?” 

“That I want us to go on a date?” Frank asks. “Yeah. Yeah, I meant it.”   

“Really?” 

“Is that honestly so hard for you to believe?” 

“Kind of…” Mel bites her lip and looks away. “I just… I’ve just wanted it for a really long time. And I felt bad for wanting it. Selfish or something. Because we’re friends. And you’re such a good friend, Frank, and that should have been enough. I told myself it was enough, but I…” 

Tears have started spilling down her cheeks, and he feels something inside him crack. 

“Mel, can I please hold you now?” 

“Please.” She nods frantically, launching herself off the bumper of his SUV and into his arms to promptly burst into tears. 

“Shh, sweetheart,” Frank murmurs as he rubs her back and presses a kiss to the top of her head. “You’re okay. 

“They’re happy tears,” Mel says, pulling back after a minute or two to swipe at her eyes. “I promise. I’ve just loved you for so long…” 

She freezes in his arms as she realizes what she’d just admitted, her eyes wide and lashes still spiky with tears. And Frank thinks she’s never looked more beautiful. 

“It’s a good thing I love you too,” he replies, hand coming up to cup her face and wipe away the tear streaks with his thumb. 

“You do?” she asks, face alight with wonder. 

“So much.” He leans down to press his forehead to hers. “I’m gonna kiss you now, okay?” 

“Please…” 

The word ends with a gasp as his lips find hers, and then she melts into him. Frank means to keep the kiss slow and sweet. Mel has other ideas. Her hands fist in the fabric of his sweatshirt as she presses up onto her toes to be as close to him as possible, and his fingers slide into her braid to tilt her head just so before he gets absolutely lost in the salty sweetness of her taste, a mixture of the tears that had just been flowing down her cheeks and the bright bubblegum flavor that must just be Mel. 

His hands can’t decide where they want to touch her most, whether they want to be buried in the silky stands of her hair, or to stroke her spine, or to grasp her hips to pull them flush against his own so she can feel just how much he wants her.  Her hands slide tentatively up his chest so that she can bury her fingers in his hair, the scrape of her short, blunt nails against his scalp sending shivers down his spine. 

“Holy shit,” a voice says, causing them to break apart. 

They glance over to see Dennis Whitaker standing there, mouth agape. 

Mel spasms in his arms, so overcome with embarrassment that she half tries to pull away and also bury her face in his chest all at once. Frank just tightens his arms around her and presses a kiss to the top of her head. 

“Can we help you, Whitaker?” he calls, rubbing a hand soothingly up and down her back.”  

“I’m sorry,” Whitaker replies. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. My car is just over there…” 

He points to a battered SUV a few rows over. 

“So maybe get in it and go home?” Frank replies. 

“Right.” Whitaker ducks his head and starts scurrying off in that direction. “I’m gonna do that. Right now. It’s just… Can I get a picture? No one’s gonna believe me when I tell them about this, and I could win a lot of money…” 

Frank glares at him, and the younger man emits a somewhat undignified squeak as he scurries off in the direction of his vehicle. Frank watches, eyes narrowed as Whitaker climbs instead and starts the car, waiting until he’s made his way down the ramp toward the exit before turning his attention back to the woman in his arms.  

“Now, I believe you and I have a date to get to,” he says, smiling softly down at her as he attempts to smooth back her hair where his fingers worked it loose from its tidy braid. 

Mel wrinkles her nose, and his smile immediately drops into a puzzled frown.  

“You don’t want to go on our date?” 

“Oh, I do,” she says quickly. “I really do. It’s just… today’s been a lot, and I think what I want more is to go home and watch Grey’s Anatomy with you… If you want to, that is. But I won’t even make you study for your boards first.”     

“Sounds perfect,” Frank replies, leaning forward to kiss her softly. “How about I pick up dinner on the way? Chinese sound good?” 

“Okay,” Mel sighs happily, her arms tightening around his waist. 

“You know, if you want to leave,” he says. “You’re gonna have to let me go, right?” 

“I know. Just… give me another minute?” 

“Oh, sweetheart,” he chuckles softly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “You can have all the minutes you want.” 

…

“Langdon, perfect timing,” Dana says as Frank steps out of the locker room, tightening the drawstring on his scrub pants. “Med student needs an attending in…” 

“Give me five minutes?” Frank asks, holding up his hand, fingers splayed. 

“You got something better to do here than saving lives?” she replies, one eyebrow arched high on her forehead. 

“Five minutes, Dana,” he says as he slowly backs away from her. “Please?” 

“Go.” She rolls her eyes, a wry smile twisting up the corners of her lips. “Five minutes. And then go check on that new kid, Avery, and his patient in Central 15.” 

“You got it.” Frank yanks open his locker to stash his street clothes and check the contents of his backpack before pulling out the plastic cup he’d stashed inside. 

His eyes scan the ER in search of a familiar blond head, and he knows he’s grinning like an idiot when he finally spots her, dictation device in hand as she finishes up her charting. The night before was the first night they’d spent apart since moving in together the month before, and he’d fucking missed her. He needs these five minutes. 

For some, it might have been a little fast, moving in together. But both of their leases were up, and Frank’s always believed that when you know, you know. And he knows. So, finding a house with enough bedrooms for the kids and for Becca when she doesn't want to stay at the center felt like a no-brainer.  

“Dr. King,” he says, placing the boba cup down next to her hand. 

“Dr. Langdon!” Mel looks up at him, smiling brightly. 

God, he loves her smile. Loves everything about her, really. He’d thought he loved her six months ago when they’d first officially gotten together, but it’s nothing compared to how he feels now. 

“Good shift?” Frank asks, shoving his hands into his pockets to keep from reaching for her. 

“Long,” she replies with a yawn. “I can’t wait to go home and sleep.”

Her cheeks flood with color, and she glances around as she bites her lip and leans forward to whisper so only he can hear. 

“I’ll miss you, though.” 

It takes everything in him not to lean across the desk and kiss her. 

“I missed you last night too,” he replies quietly before leaning back and clearing his throat. “You still up for tonight?” 

It’s their first real date night in a few weeks, and Frank’s got plans that he really hopes his shift doesn’t shoot them all to hell. He needs to be out on time, for once. 

“Absolutely.” She nods. “Becca made me get a new dress when we went shopping on my day off. I think it’s too much, but she insisted, and you know what she’s like when she gets something in her head…” 

“I’m sure you look beautiful.” 

“You have to say that,” Mel says, color once again rising in her pale cheeks. “You’re my boyfriend.” 

“Absolutely, I do. Doesn’t mean it’s not true, though.” 

He can’t resist anymore. Frank has to lean across the desk to press his lips softly against hers in a quick kiss. 

“Times up, lover boy,’ Dana calls. “Central 20. Now.” 

“Kiss you later,” he murmurs against her lips. “I’ll be home to pick you up at 8, okay?” 

“I’ll be the one in the dress,” Mel replies, smiling shily as he pulls back. 

And I’ll be the one with the ring in his pocket. 

He’s pretty sure she’ll say yes.