mialolala

[mialolala]

i have 1 (one) job and it’s to spread the frank langdon munch agenda.

see full artwork on ao3

[mialolala]

Side step part 2

Title: Side step (part 1) (part 2)

Summary: Frank has spent less than seven business days in person with Mel, his 22 year old step sister. That doesn’t stop him from sleeping with her. 

Explicit. Frank/Mel. 

TW: Dubcon. Step siblings. All sexual content warnings. Catholicism. Witchcraft. Voyeurism. Not beta read.

(Frank doesn’t know what the patriarchy means)(but he tries, maybe)(i have literally never written mel so needy)(@kittydruthers, @rippleintheocean get credit for the etsy witches)

“We need to move in with Frank.” Becca said, eyes wide, pixels glitching out on the family zoom call. “I don’t want to live alone in the city. There could be wild animals."

“No– absolutely not,” Frank said, and then had Becca, Mel and his dad all cajoling him until he caved. 

Becca, his dad, expected. Mel, not so much. Not with everything that had happened between them. He'd panted between her thighs. He'd bumped her clit with his nose. He'd tasted her, and lied to her, and loved her, all this time.

+

When he spoke to Abby about it a week later, a bite of her tuna nicoise salad already speared and mid-air, approaching her mouth, she froze. The fork hovered while she thought about it, and then, three seconds later she snapped at the salad like a shark catching a baby seal. “I think it’s a great idea,” she said, mouth full. 

“A great idea?” Frank repeated. He leaned across the table, her, not getting it. “I barely know them.” Abby waved her hand in front of her face as she chewed. “That’s your fault. They’re both wonderful. Mel and I spent a week in New Mexico in the dry heat spas and she’s a blast. Becca too.”

Frank had declined every family trip since the Rockies, for obvious reasons. “I don’t need two roommates.” His salary had ballooned to $342k that year as a baby attending. This, plus his trust fund, meant he’d never need a roommate ever again.

“You could have the kids a couple nights a week.” Abby said. Her eyes met his - they were the same color as Mel’s, honey brown, but lined with kohl. Abby wore makeup. Mel never did. Frank felt this sudden urge to catalogue all the differences between them, tally them all up and keep a list so that he could quantify all the ways Mel Langdon could never be his. Not like Abby, who he’d somehow tricked into loving him, all those years ago. 

Visitation. He didn’t have overnight visitation yet. “I’ve just made attending,” he said as a warning. Big change. Big changes meant instability. Meant the cravings might come back. 

“You can’t live your whole life with training wheels on,” Abby said, and ate more of her salad. “Besides, the kids love her, and I would personally feel more comfortable if there’s a known sober adult in the house at all times.” She chewed. “Plus, if you get overwhelmed–” she put her hand over his and squeezed. Her nails were red, long, polished. “She can always take the kids, at any time.”

“She’s not a servant,” Frank said, annoyed that Abby was signing Mel up to be his live-in nanny. 

Abby shook her head. “No, she’s not. But let’s have the decency not to sit here and pretend that it wouldn’t be good for you.”

“And why’s that?” Frank asked, going in for the kill. Because he always, always suspected Abby knew that something had happened between him and Mel. She didn’t seem to take it personally, because she had the self confidence of a Victoria’s Secret supermodel and knew it was Frank’s pond scum self that was the problem. 

Abby shrugged. “I gave you my opinion. You do what you want with it.”

Visitation. Overnight. Frank needed that. Needed to not feel like such a deadbeat all the time. He wanted some of the luster he got at work, the respect from saving people’s lives, to follow him home, actually permeate his body, worm its way into his heart. 

“Okay, roommates,” he said, and rubbed his hands over his eyes. “Great, fantastic. Two roommates at 33.”

“You’re 34.” Abby corrected him

+

Frank’s dad insisted on buying them a huge two-story brownstone with a small backyard. Five beds. One for each member of the family. It would mean the kids would have to double up if a guest came over, but Abby said Tanner was old enough to understand sharing and wouldn’t mind someone in his Ralph Lauren themed room. 

Frank didn’t even get the master. Mel did. Becca assigned him a small room on the first floor that opened up to the garden. All the other bedrooms were upstairs, and Becca told him he had to take that one to fight off any robbers. 

“Okay, I’ll get right on it,” he said as they moved in. He didn’t touch the boxes due to his back, but instead directed the flow of traffic. 

Becca gestured at him, a come hither motion. “Frank, I need your help.” She gestured for him to follow her and they snaked through the movers and made it to the master bedroom. There, she’d already started putting away Mel’s clothes in her dresser. “Help.”

With his own room to unsnarl, Frank hesitated. Becca patted the floor next to him. “Fold.” 

Frank grumbled as he got down on the floor and Becca pushed him a box labeled underwear and intimates. Frank pushed it back to her. “I’m not unpacking that.”

“Why not?” Becca asked. She held up one of Mel’s sports bras from her athleisure box and folded it in half.

Why? Frank wasn’t going to paw through and fold her fucking underwear. “It’s not appropriate."

“Why not?” Becca asked, and picked up another sports bra, a crop top. “You fold Millie’s underwear. Mel has underwear.”

Frank’s brain short circuited. “Why are you being so weird?”

That seemed to pierce Becca, and she stopped folding. She paused, then reached for a pair of leggings. She shrugged. “I figure you’ve already been intimate.”

Oh shit, Frank thought. Becca stared at him, but she didn’t seem mad about it. She must’ve known it wasn’t a raccoon moaning in the night. 

“That was–” 

Becca pushed the box to him. “Put it away, Frank.”

He obeyed. 

+

So now Frank knew every single possibility for what kind of underwear Mel Langdon could be wearing under her black PTMH scrubs, every color of the rainbow in cotton thong, and he mentally steeled himself by leaning across the nurse’s station and wondering what he’d done to deserve this level of cosmic torment. The answer, of course: drugs. He’d done a shit ton of drugs. 

He imagined that every time he’d fast-forwarded through a negative emotion by getting high, he’d accumulated them like raindrops, and now it would never stop pouring with Dr. Mel Langdon bounding onto the floor her very first day and waving at everyone, vibrating with excitement. 

“Hi, I’m Dr. Langdon, but everyone calls me Mel.” She squealed. “I’m so excited to be here.”

Everyone stared at her. Half the staff must’ve gotten the step sister memo, but the rest, slack-jawed, searched for Frank. 

“And would you like to share your relation to our other Dr. Langdon?” Robby said, facing the group at huddle up. 

Mel beamed. “Oh, we’re married,” she said, and Robby’s head whipped to her so fast. 

“That wasn’t on the HR form.”

Holding up her left hand, she wiggled her bare fingers. “I’m kidding. That was– that was a joke.” She cleared her throat and looked at her shoes. “I’m sorry if that was inappropriate.”

“We’re step siblings,” Frank said, and Mel pointed at him as if to say bingo. 

“We do live together though,” Mel said to Robby. “Do we need to tell HR?”

Frank wanted to melt into the floor. “We’re roommates.”

“Ew, why?” Santos said. “You’re an attending.”

“My sister has special needs and didn’t want us to live alone.” 

Mouthing, ah, Santos seemed satisfied, like everything checked out: Mel, socially awkward. Frank, not a lecherous beast who’d already moved on to his first wife’s clone. 

“I’ve only known her for eight business days,” Frank said, deciding that helpful information needed to be public knowledge. 

“Our parents were married for three years,” Mel said. “You were on the groupchat.”

Frank ignored the barb. “Immaterial. Eight days.”

“There’s no way that’s right,” Mel said, and started counting days on her fingers. There was the wedding, and then Key Biscayne, and then we saw each other at Christmas…

“I’ve been taking excellent records, Dr. King.” Frank said, salt in the wound. 

Mel straightened. “It’s Dr. Langdon. Ever since med school.” She turned her chin up at Frank, in a very, we’ll settle this later kind of attitude and then beamed at the rest of the PTMH staff. 

“Okay, well,” Robby said, clearly too stunned to even care. “Step sibling roommates.”

“Eight days,” Frank reminded them, because that part was super super important. “I don’t participate in the group chat.”

+

Mel nipped at his heels all morning, the one resident who refused to be pawned off on some other schmuck. “There’s no way it was only eight days,” she said. “No way.”

“Business days,” he clarified. He didn’t count weekends. 

“I saw you on Thanksgiving!” Mel said, as she followed two steps behind him all the way to the trauma bay. “That alone was a whole day.”

Frank shook his head as he gloved up. “Nope, not overnight, doesn’t count.”

“That’s insane!” Mel said. “You’d have to count every thirteen hour increment, because that’s more than half of day–”

“I really can’t do this right now,” Frank said as a patient came in, and Mel just stunned him and was superb the whole way through, and they completed an intra-aortic balloon in 56 minutes, and he knew the more they worked together the faster they’d get to the PTMH record: 51 minutes. 

They could even get to 49, he knew, because he saw it in her instantly, the way she’d latch right onto his train of thought and move through it, handed him what he needed without asking. Like a live wire, he knew he’d get burned if he touched her again, if thought about her thighs looped over his shoulders, so he didn’t even say “Good job, Dr. Langdon,” when they finished. Because that would be confirming things, he thought, confirming that he wanted her there at PTMH. Wanted her, period.

+

Becca’s special interest was the occult. It came in handy two weeks later, because Mel kept walking around the house in her underwear (boy shorts – how could he have predicted that those would be the problem for him?). 

He bought one of her spells from her Etsy shop, a $50 deluxe package, and put in the order notes: spell for peace and QUIET with my roommates who will now be FULLY CLOTHED at all times. He printed out the receipt and taped it to the fridge, underlining the “fully clothed” part for good measure. 

It worked, and Mel started wearing the same plaid pajama pants as before, and Frank considered it a threat, a veiled fuck you after he’d let her think she assaulted him for three years, so he didn’t say anything about it and didn’t request a lifeline from Becca. 

“You know, I sell love spells,” Becca said to him as she ate ice cream at the kitchen counter. 

Frank didn’t take the bait. “That’s nice.”

“Powerful ones,” she said. “One ninety-nine.” She eyed him. “I’d even give you a discount.”

“I see,” Frank said. 

“I have an exceptionally high success rate.”

Great, a love spell. Frank bought one later that night. 

He put in the order notes: Millie + Tanner + Me. 

Becca refunded him immediately, and knocked on his door and gave him a hug and said, “I don’t think you need that.” And as she hugged him, she whispered: “Even if you did, I’d do that one for free.”

“Thanks Becca.”

While he really wanted to evict his super weird step sisters, Abby was right, it did make him less nervous to start overnight visitation, because they already knew their step-aunties, so that made it less foreign, one less stranger in the room when they came over. 

One day, he’d hit 70/30 custody. That was the goal. Well, the short-term goal. The long-term goal was that Tanner and Millie each could have one happy memory with him– one singular trip to the zoo or plate of scrambled eggs at breakfast. One time he picked them up from school with a stomachache and made things better. Oh– they’d tell their therapists all about him, he knew. He could even provide them with a printout, all the ways he’d already failed them. But he’d try, every day, stack the deck with better times, in hopes one would finally stick. 

So, his kids. That made it so he could never move out, not until Mel found her true love from Becca’s spells, or hit attending and didn’t need the Langdon cash. He started a new countdown on his phone – days left, he titled it, imagining the finish line her attending promotion. Probably some time in July 2027. 1095 days away. 

+

Six months into their living arrangement, Mel started introducing herself exclusively as “Dr. Langdon,” and referred to him as “the other doctor Langdon.”

“I was here first!” Frank said. “I was first all along! I’m five years older than you.”

Garcia rolled her eyes over the patient (thankfully unconscious). “Not this again.”

“No! I’m Dr. Langdon,” Mel insisted. “Becca told me as much.”

“Oh great, let’s bring the witch into this,” he said, and Garcia stomped on his foot so hard he thought she must’ve broken a toe. “OW!”

Mel waved Garcia off. “No, no, she has an Etsy shop and everything.”

“Oh, sorry,” Garcia said. “I thought he was just flexing his particular brand of insufferable asshole.”

“Hey, I’m very respectful of Becca’s magical powers,” Frank said, because that was the joke, Becca had said once, that her shop played into the biases that all people with Autism somehow had superhuman strengths like card counting and polyglotism or the ability to speak to ghosts. He wasn’t 100% sure though, if it were a wink-wink kind of situation, or if she actually believed in communicating with the spirit realm. Both she and Mel were raised Catholic. 

“Her spells finally got you to finally wear clothes around the house,” Frank said, a point in her favor.  

Garcia sucked in a breath, and then Mel stomped on his foot, same one. “Goddamn!”

“It’s my house too!” Mel said. “Besides, you’re my step brother, it’s fine.”

Frank shot a look at Garcia, to say, you hearing this? Garcia’s eyes were so wide she was frozen in place. “Uh–” she said. 

“Exactly, thank you,” Frank said, because that’s the reaction he was looking for. 

Mel glanced between them. “What? It’s my house too.”

 After that exchange, Mel started introducing him to all her patients as “The other Dr. Langdon, whom I live with.” Or “Dr. Langdon, who made me breakfast this morning–” (Ok, it was eggs, he explained and he was already making them for his kids, so yes, she’d gotten some too). So then that started - “This is Dr. Langdon,” then she’d flash her home screen, and she’d say, “And these are the the Langdon clan,” and it was a picture of her and Millie and Tanner so it made it seem like they were her kids too. 

And Frank just totally combusted every single time, and he complained to Robby about it, and then when Robby didn’t do anything, Dana, and then when Dana didn’t do anything, HR, and HR told him it wasn’t technically sexual harassment, but he could file a complaint if he wanted, so he just gave up on all that and took up smoking. 

“That is literally so gross,” Mel would say, even though Frank very purposefully blew it out away from her face, general orbit. “That’s absolutely the most disgusting thing imaginable. Becca has asthma, you know.”

But the smoking worked great, and it allowed him to excuse himself when he and the rest of the MDs went out for happy hour, and he could lean against the building and plot all the ways to get out of the situation, which he could really only interpret as Mel’s very firm and weird style of flirting with him, which she did only to torture him, because she saw the way he looked at her in the stupid L plaid pajama pants, and she probably knew he woke up hard thinking about her, and she probably figured he’d one day snap and pull her to the new kitchen floor, because those exact same fucking monogram towels hung there, new ones, not the dirty spit ones which he’d thankfully thrown away when he’d gotten an ounce of self respect and dignity two years ago. 

“Mel’s in there crying again,” Santos said, and asked to bum a cigarette. 

“What now?” Frank asked, and gave her one. “Need a light?” 

She did. Santos took a drag. “She’s convinced she’s undatable and damaged forever.” She eyed him. “You have anything to do with that?”

“No,” Frank said automatically. “She came pre-programmed with all that baggage.” No prom date. Not his fault. 

“Okay, well, please give her a pep talk,” Santos said. She pulled out her phone, “My friend’s roommate is single and if she’s not a total lunatic she can probably get laid and calm down about it.”

“Dicey,” Frank said, because who knew how Mel would react around normal people, not freaks like them, ER doctors. “I give it 50-50.”

Santos snorted. “I see.”

“Or maybe Becca can cast one of her love spells and fix it.” 

Santos wagged her finger at him. “You better be careful with that one. Mel said it’s a total monkey’s paw kind of a reading. You find out your future, but you might not want to know.”

“Fuck, what’s that supposed to mean?” He extinguished his cigarette, because Mel didn’t like it and he’d have to take her home and listen to her cry, most likely. 

“She said, and I quote, that ‘Becca told me I’d be Dr. Langdon one day.’”

“Oh shit, that explains a lot.”

“Not Mrs.,” Santos said. “Doctor.” 

Frank hadn’t planned on ever getting married again. But he wondered if Becca’s spell omitted the “Mrs” on purpose, or if that’s all the occult gave her: “Dr.” Then his brain caught up: “Why the fuck would it ever be ‘Mrs?’” So weird. 

Santos clapped him on the arm. “Good luck with that, dude.”

Frank took Mel home, because she was absolutely hysterical. She and Samira had gotten into some kind of crying feedback loop, both comparing their complete lack of romantic success and connected it to their overachieving careers, and like, suppression of the self, or something, and at the end of the 15 minute conversation both women were sobbing and had convinced themselves they’d die alone surrounded by cats. But– in their defense, it had been a super bad day in the ER. They had gotten a sweet old woman who’d been fearful of losing her 13 furry companions after falling in her apartment, not really capable of living alone anymore. 

“Oh my god, and I can’t even orgasm,” Mel said, hands buried in her face, sobbing, doubled over in the front seat. “I’m a freak.”

“You’re not a freak,” Frank said, and because he had first hand knowledge, he said, “And clearly, you can.” Twice, his rat brain supplied. 

“I am,” Mel said, and cried even harder. “That was the only time.”

Well shit, that did kind of make it his responsibility, if he’d given her some kind of complex about oral sex now. 

“It was probably just exciting,” he said, turning onto their street. “Adrenaline. You just need to figure out what you like.”

“But I’ve tried,” Mel said. “It’s not the same.”

“I don’t know–” Frank said. “Maybe it’s a semi-public thing.” Being accused of being a raccoon, he thought dryly. “You’ll figure it out.” He pulled into the driveway. “Okay, out you go.”

Mel locked the doors, and Frank sat back in his seat and ground his teeth, because his step sister was really, really getting on his last nerve. “Mel, go get on Tinder, figure it out.”

“I’ve tried!” Mel said, and then suddenly unlocked the car and sprinted out and Frank thought no fucking way, because he knew she’d be doing something stupid, so he followed her to his bedroom and saw her there and just thought– no fucking way, and did a u-turn and went upstairs and went into Millie’s empty room, and locked the door. 

Oral sex with M - pinged in their shared Google calendar, for later that night, and he texted her: holy shit, Becca can see that. 

She doesn’t care, Mel texted back.

Fine! Fine. He thought. The whole way downstairs he gave himself a mental pep talk and decided on a very clear, very simple strategy: just be really fucking bad at it. Be really, absurdly bad at licking Mel open that she’d get bored of him and push his head away, and then everything would be fine – well, except for Mel and the lack of orgasm, but that was her problem, and then he thought: holy shit I really am the patriarchy. 

He froze, on the stairwell, torn. Addict brain said, go go go, and his rational brain said go go go, but in the other direction, back upstairs. He stayed frozen for so long that he heard Mel call out “Frank?”

Shit. Fuck. Back upstairs, he thought, but she spotted him and was faster than him, more nimble, and she cornered him on the landing. 

“I think you owe it to me to prove this one way or another,” Mel said, crossing her arms over her chest. “I have a sample size of 1 for successful orgasms.”

“That’s really not my problem,” Frank said. 

“And you have to stop smoking, it’s disgusting,” Mel said as she took off her top, and threw it over the edge of the stairwell. “I won’t kiss you until you do.” 

Oh really? Frank thought, addict brain taking over, with her topless and he grabbed her and spun her close, one hand on her hip, the other cupping her chin, his thumb on her bottom lip, holding it there. 

“I can smell it,” Mel said, and unbuttoned her jeans, wiggling out of them, swatting his hand away as she pulled them off. “Should I leave this on?” She asked, meaning, her underwear. “You liked it, last time.”

“This is literally just voyeurism," Frank said. 

Mel cocked her head at him, and held her watch up to her mouth. “Hey Siri, text Becca, ‘please don’t come out of your room.’” She stepped back. “There.”

Frank swayed, trying to figure out what to do, because she was mostly naked in front of him, and his eyes lingered over her breasts, and she had him, right where she wanted him. He half thought it would all be some kind of practical joke, and she’d jump back and say, “Gotcha!”

 “You still a virgin?” He asked, praying, pleading that the spirit world had hooked her up with someone by now.

Mel shook her head, eyes locked on his. “Nothing has fit.”

“Oh my fucking God,” Frank said, rolling his eyes, his cock deciding for him. “Get down.”

The landing wasn’t big, a 4x4 square, made of creaky wood, so he propped her up three steps up, and spread her legs and pushed her underwear aside with his nose because, why not? He thought? Keep with the weird-ass theme, and he stroked up her calf and her skin was so smooth he thought, motherfucker you shaved. It was November. 

“Honey, tell me how much you want it,” he said. She eased her fingers into his hair, chest already trembling with excitement.

“Uh– it would help if you did something,” she said, and he licked into her, and she choked out an “oh, please.”

He wouldn’t tease her, not with his knees gangly in the air, and thought, oh honey because she tasted so sweet, and he could only imagine how badly she needed to get off to beg him, strip off all her clothes and sink to the floor for him. He reached a hand up to her mouth and stuck his fingers in, and said, “wet them, baby,” and she sucked, holy shit, and as soon as he withdrew them to stroke her, she choked out: “I’ve been practicing my thank you, with my mouth.”

Oh, he’d get her there so fast, and sucked on her clit as she mewled and got really fucking loud, the brownstone old and creaky, the sound hitting the walls and reverberating, and he stroked at her opening but felt so much resistance he gave up on it, deciding he’d need to examine it later, scold her for being so slutty, practicing on cocks other than his, but she came so fast, chest heaving, pulling at his hair, hard, saying, thank you, like a sob, and then she covered her mouth with her hand and burst into tears again and said, “I thought I was broken.” 

“Honey,” Frank said as he encouraged her to sit up. She wiped her tears with the back of her hand. 

“Whew,” she said. “You can–” she sniffed. “Upstairs.”

She led him to the master, her room, and asked what was best for his back and so he laid back and she blew him, and then explained she’d had a procedure when she was fourteen, a surgical incision to open her closed hymen. 

“But they left it mostly,” she said. Catholicism, she explained. Future husband shit. “I haven’t ever gone back.” 

He could get one digit in, maybe two if he prepped her, he figured. “Want me to try?” He asked, half joking, and Mel bit her lip and said yeah, and scooted back on the bed. 

He was half-tempted to get a glove and go to town, lube it and see what happened, but she was right there, laid back, and she said she didn’t have any lube, so problem number one right there, Frank thought, but he sure as hell wasn’t going back downstairs for it, so he went back in with his mouth, sucking on her, telling her how pretty she was, perfect, her cunt contracting as he did it, and then she relaxed, oh, and he could try to stroke her. 

Right away, he could tell–nope, not happening, not past a digit, and that was pushing it, the tissue stretching some but not budging beyond that. It was thicker, more rubbery than average - scar tissue, maybe, from the first procedure. So he gave up on that, stroking her outside, licking her all over until she came so hard she cried, again, and then she proceeded to have another fifteen minute meltdown, during which she demanded Frank spoon her and tell her she was pretty again. Over her shoulder, he could see that she was texting Samira: so what do i need to do to finally get a boyfriend?

“Spells,” Frank suggested, and bit her shoulder, and she swatted at him. 

“Not funny,” she said, but she put the phone on the charger and told him he wasn’t allowed to sneak out in the night. 

He had the phenomenal opportunity to prove to her that it was all very bad sex with him the next morning, and the only thing that turned her on was the semi-public thing, so he bit the side of her neck and said, “again?” and she backed up into his erection and ground down into it, making a sigh and tossing her head back, and she said, “help me?” so he snaked his hand around, over hers, covering her fingers as she circled her clit, and he directed her that way, so really she was doing all the work, she was making herself stutter and cry out and take a big gulp of air, and she was the only saying, “Frank, please, please, a little more,” but he couldn’t give her any more, he had to tell her, not with her pussy like that, closed up for him, sealed tight, she’d just have to be happy like this, little circles, swinging her hips back into him, rubbing his dick up the cleft of her ass–and he thought, no fucking way– but goddamn, she’d gone to Catholic school, hadn’t she? But maybe that was enough, just a catch and press of the head of his cock against her rim and she shuddered and came so hard, and he thought, well fuck, there goes that. 

So anyway, he went into work totally spiraling, but at least all the sexing seemed to calm Mel down, because she acted like a normal person all day–not snipping at him, wearing non-monogrammed clothes, and introducing him to a patient as “Dr. Langdon, my stepbrother of 8 days,” which wasn’t true, technically, but it was a hell of a lot better than before. 

Freak in the sheets, normal person in the streets. Great, he’d take it. He’d given up all semblance of trying to figure it out and decided he’d roll with it, as long as she wanted it, and then emigrate to Canada when it all went south. Well, maybe not that far. Ohio, maybe, because he could still drive and take his kids every other weekend. 

But that still left the problem of her hymen, because he couldn’t exactly just spear her like a Capri-Sun, that would hurt. And honestly probably wouldn’t work, because his dick was not sharp and pointy like the sugary drink’s straw, so all he’d really succeed in doing was hurting her. And he’d already done so much of that, already, hadn’t he? With the kitchen and the lying and the drugs. And maybe also the teasing at work. And the not-boyfriend thing. 

Which would be pretty hard, considering he was still her step brother. 

[mialolala]

mel and langdon Life with Derek au when

[mialolala]

mel and langdon Life with Derek au when

[mialolala]

My girl Mel King will not be reading that sign.

[mialolala]

OHHH SPIDEYLANGDON IM GONNA COLLAPSE

with great power

inspired by this post and also by @cvldbones mentioning that she'd like to see this. i know it's not a whole story, but hopefully it's okay!

Frank Langdon gets bit by a spider in a research lab on Penn’s campus at the age of 22. Honestly, when it had happened, he hadn’t even realized it. He was working on four hours of sleep and not enough caffeine, having stayed up all night to study for his microbiology midterm. It wasn’t until he was back in his off-campus apartment, scratching at his arm, that he realized he’d been bitten by something.

He decided not to worry about it. He’d grown up camping in North Carolina and had been bitten by plenty of bugs and spiders in his life. There was this one time, when his left hand had blown up to twice its usual size when he had been ten. His brothers told him to get over it. Eventually, his mom had given him Benadryl and that had helped. So really, Frank wasn’t too worried about this particular spider bite. Besides, he was pre-med. He knew what he was talking about. 

But then the bite on the back of his right hand turned a ghostly white color, standing out starkly against his already pale skin. Blue veins cross-crossed over it, and the bite swelled to three times its previous size. Frank was hot and his pulse was pounding so hard that he wondered if his heart was going to beat right out of his chest. The bite was itchy and it burned and it was so fucking painful that it actually made Frank pass out, right there in the middle of his apartment. 

He woke up early the next morning, confused as hell and feeling like he had a bad case of the flu, or something. Everything was too bright and too loud. Someone down the hall of the apartment complex shut their door and Frank could have sworn it was happening right next to him. He stripped off his t-shirt and sweatpants and staggered to the bathroom in his boxers. When he caught sight of himself in the bathroom mirror, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He’d always been a tall, lanky guy. Pretty strong and fit, but he was more of a runner than a weight lifter. Now, though… there was a definition to his muscles that hadn’t previously been there. He had an eight pack.

Frank wasn’t entirely sure if he was dreaming, still passed out on his living room floor. He went to turn the cold water on in the bathroom sink, hoping that by splashing some on his face, he could knock himself out of this weird funk. But as he tried to pull his hand away from the knob, he realized that he… couldn’t. His hand was fully stuck to it. And he yanked and yanked and yanked—and ripped the knob clean off of the faucet. 

Yeah, so Frank had been bitten by a genetically altered spider. And in turn, Frank himself had been genetically altered. He’d called his best friend, Yolanda Garcia, freaking the fuck out about how he could climb walls and shoot webs from his wrists. Yolanda hadn’t believed him at first, until Frank had accidentally shot her in the face with a web. Then she told him that it was “so fucking cool” and “We need to start testing out your abilities, like immediately.” Frank was glad that someone was being calm about this, because it sure as hell wasn’t him.

The superhero thing happened by accident. Even before the spider bite, Frank had had a crazy life. He was preparing for med school, he worked part time, he was trying to get an internship at a clinic. Every morning at 5 AM, Yolanda made him get him and they would go practice what Yolanda referred to as Frank’s “very particular set of skills.” Pretty soon, Frank was swinging from webs and leaping over wide gaps between buildings and crawling up the sides of skyscrapers. It was super weird, and it was also super fun. It was coming back from one of these training sessions that Frank and Yolanda came across someone getting mugged in an alleyway. Hood pulled low, Frank easily dispatched the mugger while Yolanda watched from the mouth of the alley, wide-eyed.

The conversation went something like this:

“Dude, you have to do it.”

“No, come on, Yoyo! This is crazy. It’s crazy enough that I can shoot webs from my wrists–”

“You always say that whenever we talk about this. You need a new go-to.”

“–But you’re basically suggesting that I become a superhero!”

“Excuse you, I did not call you a superhero.”

“You told me I should wear a costume.”

“I did.”

“And you said I should fight crime.”

“I did.”

“So what else would I be?”

“A vigilante, obviously! You have a journey to go on before you can claim the title of superhero!”

“...Who knew you were such a nerd, Yoyo?”

“Shut the fuck up, I’m not the one with the alphabetized collection of X-Men comic books.”

“Still. Do you think I have time to–”

“Yes, I do. We already know that you have increased energy and stamina. Come on, Frank. People need help. You can help them. Just try it out.”

“...Okay.”

The costume had gone through a few iterations. Frank needed something with a mask, obviously–his goal was still to be a doctor, even with the whole spider superpower thing. Which meant that he needed a secret identity. He’d wanted to keep the costume dark, but Yolanda was the one that insisted that he needed something flashy, something eye-catching. They settled on the colors of blue and red, and there were a lot of web designs, given the whole spider thing. When all was said and done, Frank had to admit that the whole effect was pretty cool. Yolanda only laughed at him once, too.

It was during Frank’s intern year that he got into a rhythm: fighting crime at night and on his days off, and working crazy hours in the emergency department at PTMC in Pittsburgh by day. Yolanda was doing her general surgical residency at the same hospital, so he had someone who could cover for him when he needed it. Frank thrived on the action, both at work and out on the streets, saving people in a different way. The powers he had meant that he had deep reserves of energy that helped him manage the absolutely ridiculous hours that he kept. Someone on Instagram coined the name “Spiderman.” From then on, that’s what Frank was known as.

The years passed. Somehow, Frank managed to have a life. He even dated for a while, this girl named Abby. It had been pretty casual, and they had broken up when she claimed that he didn’t have enough time for her. Frank hadn’t been too put out by it, because he liked his life the way it was. He had his friends, he had a job he loved, and he had reached superhero status (despite the fact that Yolanda liked to remind him that the super part was all in his head). It wasn’t until his final year of residency that things got completely turned upside down for him.

Her name was Mel King. She was in her second year of residency, she had glasses and a cute braid, and she had the brightest smile that Frank had ever seen. Frank had seen a lot of bad things, both in the ED and out on the streets as Spiderman. Mel King, though, was like a ray of sunshine. Frank was drawn to her immediately, seeking her out to work cases with him. She seemed a little confused by his attention but welcomed it, working efficiently and seamlessly with him in a way that he had never really experienced before. She was smart, she was capable, and Frank was pretty sure that by the end of their first shift together, he had a giant crush on her.

Mel was a little too smart, really. The ED was a busy place, so if Frank had to disappear for a handful of minutes to help someone out as Spiderman, no one really noticed. He’d go out on trauma calls, making up weak excuses to disappear and then he would reappear on the scene as Spiderman, rescuing people from fires or collapsed buildings or car accidents and then showing up a few minutes later at the scene or back at the hospital, ready to treat them. No one had ever really seemed to notice before. The third or fourth time this happened around Mel, Frank noticed her watching him with intent eyes, as if she was trying to figure out a puzzle.

Frank knew that he was getting a little reckless–his secret identity was a secret for a reason–but he wanted to spend more time around Mel, and she was more than happy to do so. They got coffee before their shifts, hung out with Mel’s sister Becca and watched movies and ate pizza after. They’d meet up in the park for runs in the morning and Frank would take Mel around to all of his favorite restaurants in Pittsburgh to introduce her to the city. Inviting Mel into his life, getting close to her like this, meant that she could figure out his secret any day. Frank found that he was pretty okay with that.

They were on night shift together when it happened. It had just rained, and Mel was around the corner of the ambulance bay, taking a break. It was dark but no one really knew about this area, so she was generally okay. Until she wasn’t. Some asshole who had to wait too long in chairs had spotted Mel coming out and had decided to follow her and use her as a punching bag for his aggression. Mel was completely taken off-guard, shoved up the brick wall, his fingers wrapped around her throat as she gasped for breath.

Frank was on a break of his own, and he’d heard Mel’s terrified scream get choked-off. Heightened hearing was one of the powers that he had, and he had been tuned in to Mel for a while, now. He was in costume and out the door before he even realized what he was doing, fury that he had never known before coursing through him when he saw Mel pinned up against the wall by some guy. It was easy enough to knock the man out and toss him aside. He was at Mel’s side instantly, asking if she was okay, hands cupping her face and running over the bruises on her throat frantically.

When Mel had blinked up at him with wide eyes and gasped, “Spiderman?” Frank realized exactly what he looked like and what he was doing. He needed some distance. He shot a web up into the air, disappeared, and came back down again, hanging upside down. Mel was on her feet, now, staring up at him with that same, puzzle-solving look in her eyes. She stepped closer. He asked her if she was okay again. She told him that she was, thanks to him. It started raining again. Neither of them moved. Mel asked him if she could thank him. Frank said yes. She stepped forward and reached up with slow hands, and then unrolled Frank’s mask until she had just revealed his nose. And then she was kissing him.

The kiss was wet. And slow. And deep. And it was the hottest thing that either of them had experienced. Mel had her hands on either side of Frank’s face, her tongue sliding against his, noses brushing together. When Frank felt like he was going to drop down and pull her into his arms and kiss her until neither of them remembered their names, he knew that it was time to go. He shot another web up into the air, pulling himself up and onto the roof. The sound of Mel’s laughter followed him up.

He got the chance to fuss over Mel as Frank Langdon when she came back inside, soaking wet with dark bruises circling her neck. He offered to take her home, which Mel happily accepted. She sat in the passenger seat of his car, hair damp but mostly dry in Frank’s sweatshirt. She was suspiciously quiet, but kept looking over at him with a smile on her face. Frank was beginning to think that the gig was up.

When they were in her apartment, Mel backed him up against her front door and kissed him senseless. Frank responded automatically, his arms wrapping around her to hold her close. When she finally pulled away, she whispered against his lips, “Thanks, Spiderman.”

Yeah, so, Mel had figured him out. The conversation went like this:

“I mean, I always suspected. The times that you disappeared lined up with when Spiderman would appear somewhere. Wait. Why are you laughing?”

“It’s nothing, it’s just–Mel, you’re amazing, you know that? I’ve been doing this for years, and no one has noticed. Not Robby, not McKay, not Dana. Abbot might have known because he’s good at figuring this shit out, but he’s never said anything to me about it. But you… it didn’t take much for you to figure it out, did it?”

“I had my suspicions, but it was obvious that you wanted to keep it a secret. I figured that you’d tell me on your own time. But, tonight…”

“God, baby. I was so scared.”

“Me, too. But you were there.”

“I was. And then… and then… you thanked me.”

“I did. Do you really want to know how I figured it out for sure, Frank?”

“Yes, please.”

“It was your chin dimple.”

(Mel had had a crush on Spiderman, in that way that you had a crush on a celebrity. It was embarrassing and she didn’t talk about it unless she was three drinks in. Mel also had a crush on Frank Langdon. That crush was slightly more attainable, but Mel still wasn’t entirely sure that anything was going to happen. When Mel had begun to suspect that Spiderman and Frank Langdon were the same person, she made it her mission to prove it. And when she had heard his voice in the alleyway, felt the way he had touched her face, she knew she had him. Then she had rolled his mask down and had seen the chin dimple that she would recognize from miles away. Frank Langdon was Spiderman.)

[mialolala]

Mel and Frank getting a sex injury and Presby - where they've gone for all of their previous sex injuries - is shut down for some reason so they have to go to The Pitt and explain how Frank ended up with a broken arm and Mel has a giant bruise on her side.

[mialolala]

doodling them being cute and domestic and whatnot

[mialolala]

ooops what another kingdon edit? couldn’t be me…..

song is pancakes for dinner by lizzy mcalpine

[mialolala]

Milky i hope you know that i think about this constantly... https://www.tumblr.com/francislangdon/787147397636751360/im-still-thinking-about-mel-being-quiet-in-bed

But i would like to add just a little something that the reason she’s so silent is because of the intense pleasure in her stomach and the #subspace she’s experiencing to the point where she cant even keep her eyes open. and frank clearly hates that she’s both silent and not focusing on him (well she is but like not the way he wants 🤣) so he makes sure that she is fully aware of him by yanking her head from the side where she’s been drooling on the sheets to face him and shoving his fingers in her mouth to make her gag so he can get some sort of noise out of her while he fucks her more harder and deeper because he’s insane ❤️❤️❤️

langdon is literally fucking her stupid. mel can’t think about anything other than how good he feels inside her and she’s squeezing her eyes shut cos she’s so overstimulated she’s going to cry otherwise. he’s yanking her around to snap her out of it and sticking his fingers so deep in her throat that she nearly pukes. (they’re working on training her out of her gag reflex. how’s she supposed to taste his cock if she’s gagging on just his fingers?) but it just drops her deeper into subspace and she lets him manhandle her and brokenly whimpers while he does whatever he wants to her

[mialolala]

Pball posting that patio pic at his new place and you reblogging that age-gap dad's best friend prompt has me vibrating about making it melfrank. Any thoughts so far? (The more unhinged, the betterr)

okay okay. i’m pondering my orb… mel’s dad is one of frank’s old frat brothers. they went to college together in the 90s and have kept in touch since! the last time mel has seen frank was before her family moved to ohio. now she’s back in pittsburgh for med school, her dad reaches out to frank to ask if he’d keep an eye on her while she’s away from family! very nice, normal stuff.

so, mel comes over for dinner pretty often! it’s nice to not have to pay for her own meals and frank is a good cook. abby usually doesn’t have time to make dinner, either working from home or out running “errands” (“aka spending all my damn money,” frank: half a bottle of wine in). frank will take her grocery shopping, sometimes she babysits his kids, she’s even slept over a few times! in short: they grow pretty close. mel’s med school buddies tease her a lot about how her closest friend is a guy in his mid 50s, but frank just seems to get in her ways most guys her age don’t.

pretty often, mel & frank will sit out on his nice patio and drink a beer or two. just sitting there talking. she learns a lot about frank & abby’s marriage. he learns a lot about mel’s ever growing stresses in med school, how she feels so different from everyone around her. so maybe frank starts to get a little more handsy with her, letting her prop her feet in his lap while they sit outside. maybe mel starts leaning on frank a little more just to hear him approve of all her decisions, maybe even directly tell her what to do instead. it’s not hurting anyone!

it wasn’t supposed to hurt anyone, but of course abby had to jump to the wrong conclusion when she came home early one day in june. frank was sitting at the table on the patio, shirt unbuttoned and smoking a cigarette while very obviously leering at mel as she sat on his lap. mel, wearing just a bikini top and the smallest jean shorts abby had seen since the 2000s. frank wasnt even touching her! not really, anyways. he had one hand holding a cigarette, the other resting on mel’s knee. a very normal place! mel had just had a really bad day and needed someone to talk to. so frank offered his place up, telling her that a relaxing afternoon in the sun would be perfect. he hadn’t even told her to sit on his lap, mel had just sat there on her own! so frank hasn’t done anything wrong! he’s just a good friend.

mel doesn’t even know why abby is bringing up things they’ve done in the past. yeah, mel will cuddle up to frank when she’s over for movie nights, she’s just a touchy person! frank has swatted her on the butt before, but he was just being stupid! nothing they’re doing means anything. it cant mean anything. mel wont let it. she cant let herself get too attached to frank, just for him to leave her like everyone eventually does.

[mialolala]

i saw a video of someone who works in EMS talking about being new and eager to see as much as they could on every shift in an attempt to become desensitized, and their preceptor would sometimes bench them on certain jobs and try to "keep their bucket empty" - the idea being that every gruesome trauma and dead body and horrible accident is a drop in the bucket and over time they accumulate, and it's very difficult to empty that bucket once it's full. and LISTEN i know we're all horny for langdon bringing mel in on every case being attached at the hip. But what if. walk with me. langdon pulling rank and blocking her from getting on certain cases. physically barring the door to trauma rooms. volunteering for the gnarliest, most excruciating parts of the job and mel goes through every stage of confused-annoyed-exhausted-irate trying to work out why he keeps doing this! this is a teaching hospital! and eventually she works out what this EMS woman figured out, which is that in these jobs you're going to learn the skills and see it all laid bare over time, and sometimes it's an act of grace for someone else to say "hey. only one of us needs to go in there. you can sit this out."

[mialolala]

I'm putting it out there that we need a fic where Abby is Mel's older sister. Mel is having an affair with her sister's husband. Not into that? Let's switch it up: Frank could be Abby's father while Abby is Mel's friend. Of course, Mel is somewhat manipulative and befriended Abby just so she could sleep over and sneak into Frank's office and fuck him.

[mialolala]

Top Kingdon moments as voted by my followers

#13: Langdon asking Mel about talking to Terrance

[mialolala]

has anyone considered perhaps a melfrank au where frank is her dad’s best friend? perhaps he’s her godfather?

[mialolala]

the sims 4: the pitt expansion pack

[mialolala]

more thoughts for #our beloved step siblings universe! lots to think about slyly manipulative older brother langdon. like him lying to his little sister who just got her first period that the best way to cure cramps is to stick something inside of yourself so you can massage the inside of your pussy and make it hurt less. so then the first time she gets really bad cramps she asks him to be the ‘something’ and he’s more than happy to help :)

this ask has been sitting my asks for like two weeks and i’ve finally had the time to respond 🫶 also omg it’s getting added to the pt2 step-sibling drabble that lowkey is not drabble anymore 😭

also adding this to the main tag bc who cares yaknow !!!

it is nsfw so proceed with #caution !

Of course their mother educated her on the topic of menstruation but that doesn’t mean it’s any less scary when it actually happened. She also wasn’t prepared for how much it would hurt. she could go to her mom or Becca, who already got her period, but the thing is Frank always told her she could come to him with anything! and there’s no one better to come to with questions about the body then the person studying to become a doctor!

She first got her period when she was just lazing around at home on a random Saturday in June. She was scrolling on netflix looking for something to watch when she felt a sudden wetness in her underwear. to say she was shocked when she went to the bathroom and saw blood is an understatement. She called Frank out of his room immediately and he came rushing to her side. She had cleaned herself up and curled into a ball on the floor by the time he got in.

“Mel what happened?” he asked, his eyes running up and down her body frantically. He kneeled down and ran his hand up and down her back.

She looked up at him with tears in her eyes, “I think I got my period,” she said sniffling.

He let out a sigh of relief, “Oh my god,” he ran his hand over his face in relief that she wasn’t hurt. “Alright, um do you have what you need?” he asks in a soft tone.

She angles herself so her head is resting in his lap with her body still on the floor. He runs his hand through her blonde hair. “No, I don’t know where mom keeps everything,” she mumbles.

He sat up straighter, “That’s okay, I’ll go to her room and get you some things, just wait here.” He pressed a kiss to her head before he left.

By the time he gets back Mel is sitting up against the wall, her eyes dry but the worry on her face still prominent.

He knees back down in front of her holding a pad and a tampon. “Which one do you want to try?” he asks.

She ponders for a second before pointing to the pad, “The tampon looks scary,” she says in a low voice.

He lets out a deep laugh and leans in to press a kiss to her forehead. “Good choice,” he mumbles into her skin.

He wouldn’t say it out loud, but if he said he was glad she didn’t choose the tampon because he wants to be the only thing inside of her then, well it wouldn’t be untrue.

She gets to day three of her period when she starts to get cramps. It gets to the point that she starts crying in her room because it hurts so badly in the late hours of the night. Frank of course hears her and shuffles himself next to her in bed. He cradles her to his chest and asks her what’s wrong. She tells him she feels this incessant stabbing feeling and she doesn’t know how to make it stop.

“Well,” he starts, “I know of a way that can make you feel better.” His fingers running up and down her spine.

She looks up at him with wide eyes and a bright smile, the moonlight reflecting off the metal of her braces. “Really?” She asks.

He begins to slip his thigh between her legs.

“Yeah, it’s scientifically proven actually.”

“Then yes please, anything” she says. “I’ll do anything.” she starts subconsciously grinding against his thigh, it’s practically instinct at this point.

“It’s sort of like a massage but, for where you’re hurting,” he tells her. “If you stick something inside you, you feel a lot better afterwards.”

She blinks up at him, still softly grinding on his thigh, “Oh, okay, um what do I use,” she asks genuinely.

god, this girl will be the death of me, he thinks.

“Well you could use me,” he suggests, “You can always ask me for help with anything, you know that.”

Her eyes start looking anywhere but him, “But,” she pauses, “it’s messy down there.” She buried her face in his chest, almost ashamed.

He quickly takes her out of that mindset, assuring her that especially in areas involving human anatomy, she should go to him because he knows what’s best to do.

That’s how she ends up naked on her bed, save for her frilly ankle socks with a towel underneath her and her brother currently fingering her. He knows her body like the back of his hand and immediately hits her g-spot. She’s already forgotten about all the pain she was in and is overrun with pleasure.

“You feel good Mellie?” he asks with a smirk on his face.

“Yeah,” she says half out of it as he presses his thumb to her clit.

Her hips start following the motion his thumb makes and chances the feeling. She’s close and asks him if he can come.

“Of course baby, come for me,” he says.

She lets out the sweetest sigh and feels boneless against her sheets. “Thank you,” she tells him as she runs her hand through his hair.

He grabs her hand and interlocks their fingers. He presses a long, deep kiss to her mouth. She’s gotten better at kissing given all the “lessons” he’s been giving her. She’s been getting more confident enough to start initiating tongue action without hesitating.

“Of course,” he says after he’s pulled back. “I’ll always take care of you. But don’t think we’re done here just yet.”

She tilts her head confused, “What do you mean?”

He then tells her that for her cramps to stop hurting, he needs to put something longer and thicker inside her to reach her deeper. She of course goes along with what he says because who is she to disagree with her big brother

He taps his penis against her clit a few times getting her riled up again because she’s still sensitive after her last orgasm. He then runs his penis along her puffy lips and gathers her wetness and blood along the tip so he can slip it in.

When it does go in he keeps still, letting her get settled into the feeling. She twitches a little, somehow feeling every single emotion all at once, overwhelmed with how good she feels. She taps him on the shoulder which tells him he can start moving.

He starts pulling out before slowly pushing back in. He goes slow at first while his hands start to move to her tits. They’re small now, but he’s sure that she’ll fill out nicely one day.

He knows enough about periods to know that boobs get sensitive around this time. He uses that to his advantage. His fingers barely graze her left nipple and she lets out a small yelp. He licks his pointer finger and brings the wet digit to her nipple and she moans loudly. He slams his mouth to her in an effort to silence her and not wake their parents.

Soon enough he’s thrusting faster and his mouth is attached to her nipple with three of his fingers stuffed in her mouth to keep her moans at bay.

He detached to get a look at her young swollen pussy struggling to swallow his cock. He notices when he looks at her stomach, there’s a large noticeable bulge where his penis is. Needless to say, he’s never been more turned on.

“Aww look Mellie,” he says, “You can see me working inside you, baby. It’s that cute?” he says with a wide grin.

She can barely process what he says so she brings her hands to his neck and pulls him in for a kiss. She feels his hands going down her stomach, but stop short of her clit and land at the bulge on her lower stomach. He pushes down and she screams in pleasure. He quickly stills and covers her mouth with his whole palm. She was barely able to let out the scream before he quieted her but it was still enough to wake up their parents. He keeps his hand on her mouth and thrusts faster and harder. Tears start streaming out of her eyes as he lifts one of her legs to get to a deeper angle.

He whispers in her ear, “That feels good doesn’t it?” He starts to suck at her neck when her thighs start to quiver.

He takes his hand off her mouth to press kisses to her mouth but it’s useless as her mouth is flopped open with nothing but soft moans coming out of her.

“Don’t cry, baby, it’s okay,” he wipes her tears. “You’re okay right? Aw you can’t answer can you? My mindless cockdrunk little sister just wants to get fucked so her cramps go away.” he teases.

She can’t even form the words to ask to come, she just squeezes him tight with her pussy and hopes he gets the message.

He does get the message. He knows he’s practically in her cervix so all it takes is a few more calculated thrusts and he whispers, “Come,” into her ears and she’s gone.

She squeezes him so tight that when he finishes inside her, she doesn’t let him go. She’s trapped him with a pussy grip she didn’t even know she possessed. He finds it adorable though. His sister loves him so much she doesn’t want him to leave!

He stays inside her until she’s fallen asleep and he can slip out and clean up their mess.

He goes to the bathroom and gets a damp towel to clean up what’s between her legs and the mixture of blood and cum that coats his own penis. He gets rid of the dirty towel and replaces it with a new one.

She’s passed out of her bed, soft snores coming out of her. He smiles looking at her, her face still red and blotchy with dried tear tracks on her cheeks. He slides right in next to her and spoons her from behind. When he lifts up one of her legs she doesn’t even move a smidge, still in a deep sleep. So it’s very easy for him to slowly but surely, slip himself inside her once more, and enjoy the heat her warm pussy brings him. He so badly wants to let her sleep but damn it she’s so warm and comfy he can’t not fuck her. He moves very softly and gently inside her so as to not wake her. She’s been through a lot recently and she deserved her beauty sleep.

He’s in the middle of thrusting and he feels her start to push back onto him.

He quickly looks at her face, worried he’s woken her up when he realizes she is still sleeping, her eyes moving behind her eyelids.

aww, he thinks. she’s having a sex dream, how adorable :)

he keeps thrusting until he comes and she clenches around him, having a small orgasm of her own that causes her to stir.

She starts to shuffle and her eyes flutter open, “What’s going on?” she asks softly.

But he’s there to quickly calm her nerves and put her back to sleep, “Nothing sweetheart,” he presses a kiss behind her ear, “just go back to sleep, I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

She’s out like a light but not before she mumbles a quick, “I love you,” to him.

He smiles into her hair and says, “I love you too, Mellie.”