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Frank Langdon/Mel King 🫱🏻‍🫲🏼 Something That I Want by Grace Potter (the song at the end of Tangled)

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@kingdonmicrofic August Microfic Challenge, day five

Prompt: blackout

Mel King/Frank Langdon | General Audiences | 267 words

read on ao3

online blackout poetry maker

“Explain again how this is supposed to aid in my recovery?” Frank’s tone is sarcastic, but in a weary, rote sort of way.

He’s being antagonistic because it’s expected. By whom he isn’t sure, but it certainly isn’t his therapist, who’s watching him, less than impressed.

“Frank, I shouldn’t have to explain to you that healthy hobbies are useful in recovery, but I’m happy to provide you with the science behind it, if it would help.” Maeve—Dr. Musani—taps her pen rhythmically on her notepad, right eyebrow raised in a challenge. He really does like her. Way more than the asshole at the first facility.

“Yeah, but…poetry?” He lobs back, grappling for the upper hand, knowing he never had it in the first place.

“Who’s it going to hurt, Frank?”

And yeah. She’s got him there.

********************************

Two days later he’s in the day room with Mel, who lights up like dawn breaking when he mentions his homework.

“Oh! I love blackout poetry! Becca and I learned about it at the YMCA camp when we were kids.” She’s practically bouncing in her seat, doing that thing where she tries to moderate her enthusiasm, holding her body all tight. He wants to tell her that she doesn’t have to do that, that he likes seeing her happiness unbridled, but he doesn’t know how.

So, he doesn’t.

Still…

(Who’s it going to hurt, Frank?)

“Do you maybe want to do some together? I can grab some of the books Maeve gave me from my room and I think there are markers and stuff in here…”

She beams at him.

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Day 5 prompt - "blackout" for the @kingdonmicrofic August challenge rated: t / word count: 496 / ao3 link (coming soon) A/N: my first time writing for this fandom and in twelve years, so pls be kind :)

Mel was making her way back to the ED from the surgery floor amidst the sudden blackout (and what looked like backup generator failure) when someone's hand - warm, large, familiar - closed gently around the crook of her arm and tugged her into a supply closet.

She could make out the shape of his jaw with little difficulty - sharp enough to cut, clenched as it was now - how close he stood; how the natural light filtering in through the vision panel shone against the greys tickling along his temple.

“Why are you avoiding me, Mel?”

“Dr. Langdon, we really should be getting back t—”

“The lights will be back on in a few minutes, we'll head back then,” he cut her off. She tried to look away from him, but there was no space, with him pressed against her firmly, nipples brushing against his abdomen with every breath she took.

He gently cupped her jaw, noted her shuddering inhale, waited till she met his eyes and asked lowly, “Do you regret what you did, baby?”

They had gone to a bar on Friday, all of the day shifters. It was Robby's last week - he was retiring to spend more time with Heather and their daughter - and Frank was taking over from him the next week.

Well, this week. The current ED chief. In a closet with her, probably breaking a hundred unsaid rules on fraternization.

Frank didn't drink, but Mel did. Three drinks after a hard week, she’d snuggled into him in the booth, ignoring the raised eyebrows from her fellow intern Samira, and Frank didn't object once. Let her wrap both arms around his muscled one, let her lean her head against his shoulder, cupping her knee in return, slowly sliding up her thigh and holding her there possessively for the rest of the night.

She'd forged a bond with Dr. Langdon from the day she started her MS3 EM rotation. He was patient and kind and overly energetic (and newly divorced, per the gossip) and so indulgent in tagging her onto his cases as a senior attending. She barely remembered spending any time with Dr Santos, the chief R4. She fell hard in twelve hours. What a competency kink to have, idiot.

She'd started her residency here two months ago. And now she's gone and fucked it up and kissed him when he'd dropped her home after.

“I shouldn't have done that,” she whispered, his sharp gaze still a balm.

“You should have,” he responded, leaning in and kissing her, slowly and deeply, thoughts fleeing her brain completely.

He pulled away from her lips and gently rested his forehead against hers. He was almost a foot taller; it’d always made her feel so small and safe.

“Let's talk after shift, please, sweetheart.”

Hope bloomed like spring in her chest. “Okay,” she said, “Frank,” she tacked on.

His answering grin sent her soaring.

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desperately need an edit of kingdon to don't blame me by taylor swift

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elliot + holding olivia back 

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Reading your own story is weird because you actually like that one, it has a good plot and like everything in it what you‘re looking for in a story but you can‘t stop thinking “This is the worst story ever” the whole time.

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Kingdon Microfic Day 1: Hot Pool Dad Vibes

Mel has never been overly fond of swimming pools.

To be fair, her only real experience was with public community pools - always crowded, the smell of chlorine intense (and thank God for that; she has seen horrible things in those pools the few times she was dragged along with cousins or while babysitting during her teen years). Mel had dutifully escorted cousins and charges into the water (only after having received her swimming certification through the Red Cross, of course) but she preferred to remain dry and her hair chlorine free on the sidelines.

Becca enjoyed the occasional dash through misting arch at the zoo and their first summer in Pittsburgh had been so miserable and humid that Mel had sprung for a SpongeBob branded sprinkler at Target but a membership to the local pool? An expense neither one would enjoy. SpongeBob served them fine.

Dr. Abbot was Mel's first ... friend (Acquaintance? Coworker?) ... with his own private swimming pool. Even if she had little desire to swim, Samira had enlisted Santos’ help in forcing Mel to accept the invitation to his holiday party.

Dr. Abbot’s pool sparkled blue in the late afternoon sunlight.

When Mel dipped her toes in, she wasn't met with a frigid chill or disconcertingly warm temperature.

It didn't smell overpoweringly like chemicals.

And the only children to be found were two adorable, well-behaved (a bit loud, sure, but their laughter was infectious rather than jarring) dark-haired little ones currently clinging to their father.

A breeze caught the beach ball that Santos, Whitaker, and Garcia had been volleying back and forth, sending it off-course. Without hesitation (with Gracie’s legs still wrapped around his waist and Tanner hanging off one arm), Frank’s free hand punched it back in their direction, earning a catcall (Garcia), a derisive comment about showmanship (Santos), and a smattering of applause.

If public pools had a really good looking, very involved dad, Mel might change her opinion. Until then, thank goodness for Dr. Abbot.

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A group of far-future linguists and archeologists suddenly *poof* into existence in front of me. One is holding a tablet. "What is the difference between 'red sauce' and 'tomato sauce?'" they ask me. "The distinction is not clear in extant texts from this time and place."

"Uh, they're the same thing," I tell them. "Who are you?"

"Yes!" the being with the tablet exclaims.

One of the other researchers groans. "No! My thesis...months of writing wasted..." One of the others comforts them.

"Now, what is this object for?" The first researcher holds up a discolored, dinged-up plastic object. It's clearly been buried in the ground for quite some time, but the two holes and the scuffed plastic window are distinctive.

"That's a cassette tape. You record music with it."

"Interesting, interesting." The being enters something on the tablet.

"How are you speaking English?"

"Sophisticated translation technology," one of the researchers confides. "We are students of your society. From the future."

"What does this pictogram represent?" The researcher with the tablet turns it around so that the screen faces me.

It's the eggplant emoji.

"Sex," I say. "Why do you need to ask me this if you can time travel or whatever? Can't you just go wherever you want to go and look around and see how these things are being used?"

The beings shift guiltily and look at each other. "Technically, travel to times and places prior the advent of time travel is strictly prohibited. Paradoxes, you know."

"Oh."

"We must get back before our advisor returns to the lab. Just don't tell anyone you saw us, alright? The space-time continuity depends on it. Can you do that?"

"Uh, sure, I guess?"

One of them pats me on the head. "And don't go to Mars."

"Okay. Wait, why? Is it dangerous?"

"No. Just not worth it."

The group disappears in a shimmering light.

The cassette clatters to the sidewalk behind them.

Out of befuddlement, mainly, I pick it up. It's clearly old, discolored and scuffed, but it still has tape in it.

I carry the tape around in my pocket for a while. The curiosity builds. I want to know what's on that tape. I don't have a cassette player anymore, so I go to Goodwill and pick up the first one I can find, praying that it still works. I plug it in. It turns on.

I slide the tape inside. It's dirty, but it still seems to be in decent shape. I snap the player closed and hit play. The wheels begin to turn. I hold my breath.

A familiar tune starts up. A wobbly voice comes out of the machine.

We're no strangers to love

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Presenting to you my writing cycle

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day 5: blackout

for @kingdonmicrofic 's challenge | rated G | word count: 267

One second they’re driving home from PTMC as normal, Langdon driving, Mel messing with the spotify queue, the next the street is plunged into darkness around them. The streetlights flicker, giving one dying breath, before the only lights are their headlights. For a reason he doesn’t quite understand, he pulls over and turns off the car, leaving them in near-total darkness.

Mel has her phone out - presumably texting Becca, and her face is the only thing illuminated. She is the only real thing in the vast darkness extending out around them. If he were a better man he would divert his attention, he would text Abby to make sure the kids are okay, he would do anything other than reach for her hand across the console. 

But he’s always been impulsive, and he has been fighting against temptation in every direction - the temptation to snap at Santos, the temptation to use drugs, and sure, the temptation to kiss his coworker. Her eyes snap to his when his fingers wrap around hers. Her phone lands in her lap, screen with the text message still illuminating their faces. Logically he knows that the rest of the world is still out there, that whatever he does will not stay in this void, but when she ducks her head and smiles under his gaze he can’t help but ignore the logical voices in his brain and take her cheek in his hand. 

“Tell me not to, and I won’t.” He whispers. 

“Not to what?” 

“Kiss you.” 

“And if I want you to?” 

He gives in, temptation has never tasted so sweet.

---

I really like the idea of a microfic challenge - I usually get so in my head about fic lengths. I started a bit late but I'm hoping to do a few more of these through August :)

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written for @kingdonmicrofic day five - blackout - 364 words - ao3

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“Oh my Godddddddd you guys, I’m fineeee!’ Javadi slurred as she staggered between them, bouncing off their shoulders as if she were in a pinball machine.

Frank was starting to regret broadcasting the information that his sobriety extended to alcohol too, earning him the perennial title of designated driver. Maybe he should’ve lied, told them there was enough vodka in his Diet Coke to knock out a Bolshevik.

‘We just want to make sure you get home safe,’ Mel said, swinging an arm over Javadi’s shoulder to pull her upright. She shot a concerned look across to Frank, wrinkling her nose when Javadi laughed too close to her face. He would wait to light his cigarette, he thought, fingers toying with the carton in his pocket.

To be perfectly honest, he couldn’t judge. The night of his own 21st birthday would remain a total mystery, the only evidence the evening had even occurred being a tattoo on his inner bicep of… something. He’d never quite worked out what it was and truthfully he was too scared to find out.

‘You guys are too nice,’ Javadi babbled, her head lolling to the side to look at Mel. ‘My mom’s a bitch.’

Mel coughed, eyes widening at the sudden confession. ‘You’ve had a lot to drink Victoria, I don’t know—’

‘I wish you guys were my parents,’ Javadi cut in, giggling. 

Frank stumbled slightly as he felt all the blood in his body flood into his cheeks. He was suddenly acutely aware of the heat of Mel’s gaze on the side of his face. This was not a conversation he wanted to be a part of, especially stone cold sober, at 11pm on a Thursday.

‘Like, Mel you would be my mom and Dr Langdon, you could be my daddy—’ she hiccuped. ‘Oops.’

‘I don’t think—’ he choked out, but she wouldn’t be deterred.

‘You could get married and then be in love forever and then also maybe help me study for my Step 2. I think you guys would be really good at that, wayyyyyy better than my own parents who SUCK!’ she hollered into the evening.

Maybe they should’ve just called her an Uber.

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Kingdon Microfic Day Five: Blackout

Notes: LMAO this is not the first, nor the last, fic of this nature. Pretty sure I did the exact same ideas on prompts Tank Top and Topless, for obvious reasons. Slightly suggestive content ahead... Enjoy :P ( @kingdonmicrofic )

———

That You Are

Frank is sprawled out on the couch in nothing but his boxers and a tank top, and Melissa wants to scream.

The blackouts were taking up over half of Pittsburgh, and it just so happens to have hit both the areas where Frank and Mel’s homes were located. Mel, however, had a backup generator in her apartment complex, so she’d gracefully invited her coworker to come over so that the heat doesn’t kill him.

Now he’s in her home, on her couch, in his underwear, and she’s just… supposed to be normal about this. He’s still married, she knows he’s still married, but she also knows that he and Abby have started going through the proceedings of divorce, so…

So she can stare. That’s what she reasons, as Frank lifts the hem of his shirt to wipe at his forehead and sighs in relief in a way that sounds more like a downright sinful moan than anything when her fan changes directions and blows cold air towards where he’s reclined.

The brief flash she gets of his chest hair almost makes her black out.

“I’m going to get some water,” she croaks out at him, physically turning her entire body away from him as she gets up off the couch in record time and speeds towards the kitchen. “Do you want anything to drink? I have some juice, too. It’s really hot. I’m so thirsty.”

That you are, a voice that sounds suspiciously like Trinity’s sounds in her mind, and she shakes it off to properly listen to whatever Frank says in response.

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jack abbot: "i'll falsify medical records and turn a man's insides into a laundry room but i draw the line at (checks notes) fork nose"

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morning, hon!

some cutesy mel and frank where they’re best friends for years and they each take turns being with someone bc they can’t bear being single while the other is taken bc they’re jealous and then at the end they end up having sex bc it’s all too much

au ✨🫶🏻

Howdy! I’m finally catching up a bit :)

I can see it so clearly: They become close while Frank is in treatment for his substance abuse. He’s incredibly lonely and in a bit of a guilt spiral writes Mel a letter he get to her via Dana who’s been a saint by all means about his situation but is dealing with enough of her own shit she really can’t be there too much but she does him this favor. He left his phone number in the post script and Mel texts him like he asks which spirals into a call and visits and their friendship only grows each step of the way. Frank, of course, is still with Abby during this time even though it’s less of a rough patch and more of a trial separation in everything but name (they only talk about the kids and his sobriety—it’s exhausting). Mel is his most welcome distraction. They’re both a little lost, with Becca having a steady routine with the center, Mel doesn’t get to see her as much and that’s a huge adjustment. It’s nice to have a real friend to get to know, to talk about anything with, to spend time with when days can feel so long away from the hospital.

By the time Frank is back at the hospital after 10 months away and freshly divorced, he and Mel are best friends. It helps immensely with the transition back. The problem is that now Frank has to see his best girl, his favorite junior resident, interact with her new too flirty EMT boyfriend every time he drops a patient at the Pitt. Frank still doesn’t understand exactly how they got together. It involved knocking into Mel with a gurney though so Frank dislikes Howard on principle. How hard is it to look where you’re going when you enter a hospital?

Frank is totally cool about his best friend being hogged by her boyfriend. He hates being a third wheel though so after a few months of this, and at least a year out on his sobriety Frank starts dating. Then at least they’ll be able to do double dates and still spend additional time together. Who cares if said future girlfriend and Howard are there too? The more the merrier! Except when he tells Mel his brilliant plan during a shared day off at their favorite coffee spot after he’s got a clear head from a quick six, she looks put off by the very idea. She’s never been good at hiding the emotions on her face so the clear displeasure in her frown and furrowed brows is enough to take him back. She’s got a litany of questions ranging from why to what for and her final scramble of isn’t it a little soon after Abby?

That’s the weirdest one because she knows his relationship with Abby was dead long before he got caught with benzos.

Mel can’t seem to convince him otherwise that it’s a bad idea. Frank was going to continue forward no matter what so it wasn’t much use but he was looking forward to having some help with his dating profile because he’d never done it before and Yolanda was only good at setting up profiles for hook ups which wasn’t his goal.

After his fourth failed first date in a row Frank shows up at Mel’s apartment, collapsing against her shoulder in the doorway and groaning. She ushers him inside in an awkward shuffle as she pats his back and gets them settled. He’s still dressed up from his date and Mel is in sweats and an old tshirt but she looks just as beautiful as ever. He rants about how hard dating is how people don’t even like to show up and he doesn’t know how anyone does this. Mel listens, funny expression crossing her face he can’t quite parse which is strange because Frank can always read Mel and that distracts him until he trails off and has to ask: “I don’t know, Mel. What do you think, am I doomed?”

“I think…” her mouth twists like she’s gathering her courage to say the hard thing, this he’s seen before. “I think I never want to hear you talk about dating another woman again.”

“Jesus, sorry I’m being such a bother!”

“I didn’t say that.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying…I’m saying I don’t want you to date someone else. I’m right here. And seeing you go on these dates and get invested in this women you don’t even know is making me all..all crazy like I’ve never felt before.”

“Are you jealous?” A smile spreads across Frank’s face all too satisfied by her confession.

“Yes, I suppose I am jealous. Will you finally kiss me now?”

It’s all the permission Frank needs. He wraps an arm around her waist to hold her nice and close, the other cradling her chin as he kisses her thoroughly with everything he’s been holding back. Her hands grip at his shoulders and roam around feeling him.

Then it hit him like a truck and Frank breaks off pulling back. “Holy shit. What about Howard?” His nose wrinkles saying the name.

Mel huffs a little laugh, “I broke up with him this morning.”

“Say it again,” Frank eyes shine with desire. He’s already kissing at her neck, trying to lift up her shirt.

“I broke up with Howard this morning.”

She wiggles against him and sighs pushing closer and closer.

All the months of wanting, of longing, of being just out of reach of each other while being so nearby, finally exploding in this moment as the line is crossed.

“Jealousy looks good on you, sweetheart.”

He’s grinning up at her from where he’s kissing a path over her chest and toward her belly. Mel can only manage to nudge at him in half hearted admonishment. She’s more focused on burying her fingers in his locks and pulling, pulling directing him wherever she wants his lips.

They spend an absurdly long time on the couch, then on the floor, in the kitchen and eventually her bed, running through Mel’s entire meager stock of condoms.

Frank is positively covered in hickeys and bruises by the morning and Mel’s not looking much better with his fingers practically imprinted on her hips.

He both thinks they’ve never looked, or felt, happier.

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Finally got the third chapter down.

I love it! Thank you to all the lovely Kingdon people inspiring me over the past couple of days!

-----

Is that my hoodie?

Mel?

Mel stared at the two text messages. The tail end of her photo still visible.

Shit shit shit shit shit

Not only had she sent a photo with her wearing almost nothing, it was proof of her weirdness. Who else would decide to rob someone’s hoodie for a sexy photograph.

(Mel fucking King that’s who.)

If he never spoke to her again she’d understand.

Oh god what if he reported her for sexual harassment????

No he wouldn’t do that. More heartbreakingly what if he decided that he’d hit his Mel King limit and walked away from their friendship. Wouldn't be the first time. The idea of Frank being done was terrifying in a much deeper way.

She needed to answer his message.

(Oh shit shit shit shit)

She was standing in the middle of her living room, Hozier’s crooning for once not soothing. Her phone glowing up at her. Frank’s texts burned into her retinas. It might as well have been radioactive. If a little mushroom cloud appeared out of her phone it would have been a relief to her. No such luck of course.

Mel needed to do something. Say something. Ordinarily she’d have texted Samira but not this evening. She would be out with Abbot right now. The entire Pitt would kill her if she derailed this particular date.

What do you say when you’ve accidentally sent someone a sexy photo?

A someone you’ve had more than friendly feelings for, for well over a year?

These two questions bounced back and forth in her brain like a ping pong ball. Enough to trigger a migraine. The chat conversation was still open on her phone. So he knew she was on the phone.

Mel shoved her glasses up as she rubbed at her face with her free hand.

Shit shit shit shit.

Was it bad to pray for an emergency? Oh that had to be bad karma. Also if there was an emergency she’d end up seeing him first.

Her stomach dropped again.

She had to take the bull by the horns but what did she say?

Sorry? Or.... Did you like it?

Even thinking that had Mel groaning out loud. It would be the move that Trinity would advise her to go with. Be brazen, bold and dgaf. Not Mel’s style though. She tried typing out a response, responses and deleted them repeatedly. Frank did the same. So they were in a stalemate of appearing and disappearing typing bubbles.

Mel had two options:

Deal with it now or spend the rest of her residency hiding from Frank.

Damn Abbot for picking this evening of all evenings to ask out Samira. Right when she needed her. Mel glared at the empty glass of wine.

Rule 2 of sending sexy photos: do so when sober.

So then she proceeded to try and draft a text message response.... in her notes section she was not going to repeat the same mistake.

Doctor Langdon-

Oh god no.

FRANK I AM SO SORRY

Fuck.

.... ?

She needed to type something.

New phone who dis?

That one made her laugh at least. She caught sight of her reflection. Still in his hoodie.

After 15 drafts of a message Mel decided to just to deal with it in the morning.

(Sure Mel. Sure.)

There was no sensible option she could see at this point. Not without completely breaking down and begging him to fuck her. That would end only one way and Mel would loose a dear friend in the process.

As if Frank Langdon wanted to sleep with her.

-----------------

The next two weeks Mel had perfected one skill.

Avoiding Frank Langdon at all costs. Ducking, covering and disappearing with increasing efficiency. She’d gone from the energizer bunny to the fleeing bunny. Her innate habit of keeping track of where he was was helping immensely. These rapidly developing instincts came in handy when ducking Dana who was trying to work out what was happening. Her favourite duo falling apart. As much as Mel didn’t want to insult the best charge nurse she wasn’t inclined to chat about the situation at hand.

Oh I don’t know Dana, how about I accidentally the divorced man I am practically in love with a racy photo in HIS CLOTHES??

The hurt look on his face as she moved in his exact opposite did break her heart a little bit.

(A lot.)

Robby had even tried asking what was going on. The insinuation that Frank had messed up hanging heavily over her head.

(Was it so hard for people to think she fucked up?)

Mel had quickly shut him down. Finally being brave enough to ask why he assumed Frank was always in the wrong. That she was just as capable of being the fuckup in any given situation. His insinuations without actually asking a direct question were quite insulting thank you very much Dr. Robinavitch. With the delightful sprinkle of ablism.

(Robby’s jaw had hit the floor.)

‘Queen, what the fuck???’ She froze at the hissed question. Hand hovering over a box of gloves. Her latest hiding spot? Storage.

‘What?’ Mel did her best to look confused by the question. Large eyes, owlishly blinking over the rim of her glasses.

‘Don’t play with me.’ Trinity's bright green eyes narrowed warningly at her. Mel was long learned not to give Trinity an inch. However in this instance she was fucked.

Mel turned her head, avoiding eye contact. ‘Trinity I have no idea-’

Trinity corssed her arms. Cutting over her without care. ‘Langdon is walking around like a kicked puppy and you have outdone Robby in fucking evasion tactics! Abbot is half tempted to enlist you into the army.’ Mel just shrugged. She didn’t know how to explain what had happened without dying of embarrasment.

‘If that Asshole did-’

A surge of anger rocketed through Mel. Her jaw set in a tight line. Almost painful. ‘Would people stop assuming he did something. I am perfectly capable of being the one in the wrong. I can and have been the screw up.’

That shut Trinity up. Her jaw snapping with a loud clack. It wasn’t often Mel cut at people or interrupted them. She took in a sharp short breath. Dust particles shifted back and forth in the light. Her hand was touching the large gloves.

(Franks size)

Trinity was blocking the door. Not on purpose there was only so much room in this particular storage room. Just so Mel knew that getting out of this conversation would require tackling her head on. There was no where to disappear into now. Not that she wasn’t scanning the room for any option.

(Fuck.)

‘What did you do????’ Once again Mel cursed her fair skin. No way of hiding the heat of the redness in her face. Becca had found Franks hoodie in the wash. Innocently asking how Frank had forgotten about it and wondering quite loudly why it looked like her sisters face was on fire. Mel had stammered out something garbled and bolted from the room. Leaving Becca staring at a hoodie in complete disbelief.

(Not even her sister was immune to Mel’s dashing.)

‘Did you fuck his wife or something?’ Mel stared at Trinity for a long moment. Was she joking? She had to be joking? There was no way that Trinity actually thought that Mel had- Trinity was leaning in, consistent eye contact and her arms at her sides. Seemed to fairly honest and not her usual hard to read tough humour.

Mel’s elbow smacked into one of the metal racks. Jumping at the ridiculous accusation. Pain stung at her elbow. ‘No!’ Her voice sounded strangled and had ratcheted up quite a few octaves. The sheer silliness of her voice broke the tension crackling in the tiny room. Trinity tried doing an impression of her voice.

‘Sorry!’ She got in between wheezing laughs. Both women struggled to keep the laughter down. Lest someone come investigate the giggling closet. ‘It’s usually my first go to.’

Mel stare at her with a deadpan expression. ‘Not that I should read into that or anything.’

(Undercut hugely by her still burning cheeks and neck.)

‘I lead an eventful existence. What about yours?’ Why were all her friends so fucking stubbornly curious? It was exhausting. And sweet. Mel had told Samira of course. Who had recommended she just talk to Frank. And was trying not to sigh audibly when she caught Mel’s hiding and seek routine playing out on the floor. Mel had seen Frank talking in hushed tones with Samira.

Samira being the good friend had simply told him what she’d told me. They needed to sort this out themselves. By talking. Which Mel had no clue how to do.

Mel leaned back, shrinking in on herself with a sigh. ‘I just...’ Mel stared down at the weird dark stain on the ground. Moving her feet to avoid the suspicious dark spot. ‘I accidentally sent a text to Frank I shouldn’t have and I don’t know how to talk to him now.’

‘What did you ask him to fuck you sideways or something?’ Trinity leaned back against the door. Face morphing from concerned to intrigued. In a way that always spelled trouble.

Her voice was a little too high, too loud. ‘No!’ Mel wrung her hands anxiously trying not to hurt herself in the process.

Trinity tilted her head trying to piece together the instigating moment. ‘But something.... suggestive...?’

Trinity Santos: expert in sexual interactions. Of course she read through the lines of her friends awkward panic. Mel cursed her own existence again.

‘Mel King what did you send??? Oh please tell me it was a nude! Check and mate!’ How she managed to make chess terminology so filthy was actually impressive. A play on her surname. It was equal parts ridiculous and sweet.

Mel chewed down on her lip worryingly. ‘A rather sexy photo.’ Trinity’s face was even more gleeful than when she stumbled in on Shen and Cassie making out in one of the call rooms.

‘How sexy?’ Mel trusted Trinity. Yes she was snarky, prickly and aggressively direct.

(Coming from Mel that was something.)

But she was a genuinely good friend at the core of her. Going the extra mile to make sure that the people she latched onto were safe and happy. Protecting them with everything in her. Mel, with a shaking hand loaded the photo.

(She hadn’t deleted it.)

(It remained as her last message to Frank too.)

Trinity didn’t take the phone, just peered at the image. Respecting Mel’s restraint and being suitable appreciative of her trust in her. Mel felt that old familiar swirl of anxiety and nausea rising through her.

‘How do you make an old tattered hoodie look like the sexiest thing?’ Trinity sounded impressed? Even a little into it. Oh dear.

‘It’s the implication of it.’ Trinity continued to stare, one hand clenching. Mel took the phone back with a quick redraw. ‘Okay enough of that.’ She gestured up and down her friend with a hand flourish. Trying to get Trinity’s face from leering at her.

‘Shit sorry. But you have skills girl.’ Trinity held her hands up in surrender. ‘I mean daaaaaaamn.’ Once again Mel felt a twinge of irritation. Trinity sounded far too surprised. Mel frowned. ‘Sorry I just didn’t imagine you were the type...’ Trinity had clearly picked up on Mel’s unhappiness and tried to cover.

Mel narrowed her eyes at her. ‘Be more imaginative.’ Snark layered in her words. She huffed crossing her arms and leaning back against the shelving behind her. Carefully. There were always rumours of someone getting pinned down after a loose one coming down. Trinity did look suitably remorseful.

(And proud of Mel.)

‘Sorry Queen.’ Mel just humphed quietly. Someone must be looking for them by now. ‘So that’s why you’re avoiding him? He didn’t respond?’

‘...’ Mel swallowed and shrunk back. If he had just ignored it that would have been one thing, or just flat out deleted everything. However she had been the one to leave him on read. So the ball was in her court. The ball that was a bomb.

‘You sent it as a mistake and he asked if you meant to send it and now you are freaking out....’ Trinity narrowed her eyes at her. Then drifted off to the side in thought. ‘Wait was that his hoodie? Oh you are into some kinky shit Mel.’ None of these words were judgmental. Trinity continued to sound impressed and sympathetic. Mortifying position to be in.

(Trinity of all people could sympathise. Scalpel in the foot of the hot hotshot surgeon anyone?)

Mel hid her face behind her hands, muffling whatever nonsense was spilling out of her mouth. A cool hand was a steadying force on her hand. Mel just focused on the slight pressure that Trinity was placing on her.

Trinity kept her voice steady, low and even keeled. ‘It’s okay Mel. Honestly I think he’s more worried he’s fucked it up. Never seen such a pathetic looking dude before and I live with Whitaker! Who looks like a sad gerbil and a Victorian child combined in a horror show of sadness. Impressive Asshole had surpassed such miserable levels.’ Trinity pulled back, knowing Mel didn’t know how to deal with prolonged contact. Given the already overwhelming conversation she didn’t want to add to Mel’s stress.

‘Fuck him. Don’t fuck him. Have a purely sexting relationship with him. As long as he respects your limits I think you’re okay. Come on we better get back in there.’

Mel followed her back into the Pitt. Legs feeling a little like a newborn foals. Gangling and kicking out from under her. Trinity was reassuring but not exactly helpful. Mel hovered near the nurses station. Doing her best to ignore Perlah and Princess having a discussion next to her. About her. As lousy as she was sometimes with social interactions, they really lacked subtly. The constant staring at her nervous bouncing was blatant.

Only a couple of hours left in shift.

Then she could go home and hyperventilate.

Or cry.

--------------

Becca had long disappeared into her room. There was some big youtube interview she’d wanted to watch. Mel hadn’t been paying attention to the description. So Becca marched off in a huff.

(Well shit.)

She’d apologise later but right now Mel needed to be selfish. She had her own internal feelings to deal with. There came a point where Mel had learned that she had to start minding her own brain lest she take it out on Becca. She just needed space.

Mel sat outside on the balcony, curled up in her own undergrad hoodie.

(It’s a men's one. The womens were a cheaper rougher texture that Mel had hated on sight. So she was swamped.)

Frank’s hoodie was still in her room. Mel had for once in her life outright lied to Becca saying she’d given it back.

(Mel surprising doesn’t feel too bad about lying to her sister.)

Darkness is settling over the city. Mel burrowed into blankets. The heatwave has finally broken and Autumn is trickling in, leaf by leaf. Her tea sits forgotten on the table as the sky darkens over her head.

Mel knows she had to deal with PhotoGate as Samira had jokingly called. Sooner rather than later. Two weeks, bleeding into three was far too long. But she just didn’t know what to do.

Laugh it off?

No the time delay nixed that one from jump.

Pretend it never happened?

See above.

Tell him the truth?

Absolutely not.

(Mel wanted to die from embarrassment.)

Her phone sat quietly on the table. So innocent and banal in it’s silence. She picked it up and flicked through her photo gallery. Not the sexy album obviously. Candid and posed shots of her friends and Becca. Some sunsets and street art. Things that caught her eye. Her and Becca. Fancy dinners with Samira. Frank with Lido (Lidocaine Mel hadn’t asked why). Trinity shooting a middle finger at the camera. More shots of Lido out for walks and runs. Covered in mud. Samira hiding behind a journal. Frank grinning as he teased Becca over a game. More dog photos. The Langdon kids plus Lido.

She chewed the sleeve of her hoodie. Trying to figure things out. Would this situation be less embarrassing if her brain chemistry leaned towards the typical? Probably not. She may perhaps be more able to navigate it. Be less awkward. But Mel supposed that this situation would be uncomfortable for almost anyone.

The overly loud knocking dragged Mel out of her head. Jumping at the overwhelming bangs. She stood up, rubbing both her eyes under her glasses. Praying it wasn’t Frank on the other side of the door. She bounced off the kitchen table. No King had the ability to walk without bumping into things. Alive or dead.

‘Samira?’ Without greeting Samira walked into the apartment. Becca’s door remained shut. Noise cancelling headphones and her irritation with her sister. She was not reappearing any time soon. A sudden wave of fatigue swept over Mel. Her eyes feeling so heavy. Ordinarily she would have rushed straight after Samira who was clattering and banging around her kitchen. Mel however took a moment to rest her head against the door.

Doubtful this was going to be chill girls night.

Samira stood staring into her fridge. Face blank. ‘I choked!’ Mel sat down on her usual island stool. Her friend just continued staring into the fridge.

Mel waited for her friend to explain. Choked how? ‘Samira?’ Finally she had to break the awkward silence. And get Samira to close her fridge. Samira turned around and collapsed on the island with a loud groan. Mel found herself straining to understand the noises coming from somewhere in the black curly main of hair.

‘What was that?’

Her voice was a little clearer this time. ‘Is Becca at the centre?’ Cue that this was a conversation for Mels ears only. Becca as sweet as she was could not keep a damn thing to herself.

‘I will be grovelling to her tomorrow.’ Samira rapped her fists off the counter – not loudly just enough that Mel was wincing at the impact. ‘Balcony?’ Mel offered, trying to gently calm her down. Samira whined as she darted out to the balcony.

Mel made the conscious choice to leave the phone on the island. And the wine in the fridge.

She was still dealing with her idiotic actions. Best not to tempt fate.

Samira was pouting, cheeks dark with embarrassment.

‘What happened?’ Mel had grabbed a bag of chips and some candy. Less likely to send dangerous photographs with food.

‘So I went back to Jack’s the other night. Post shift.’ Mel nodded, remembering Samira quietly leaving on time for the possibly the first time ever. She didn’t comment. Sensing that if she said something Samira might bolt. ‘And we tried to....’ Samira waved her hand in the air. Mel screwed her face up.

‘Have sex?’ Mel guessed. About 90% sure she was correct. Samira’s face crumpled.

‘I just couldn’t. I just panicked... oh god Mel it’s humiliating..... I...’ She hid her face in her hands. Mel felt like she should reach out and pull her hand down. But she didn’t. Samira was already feeling a lot. And there was something else to this. Not just one person getting cold feet. Mel supposed that Samira had hyped up this moment so high. For so long. That when it came down to it Samira had overthought it.

Mel could understand. Glancing at her phone just as it lit up.

Samira muffled an embarrassed wail. Badly. Mel tried not to wince. Glad that Becca couldn’t hear any of this. ‘I head butted him.’ Oh that was unfortunate. But Mel had heard and experienced worse. But that wasn’t it. ‘In the crotch.’

Oh.

That was bad.

(Mel wanted to laugh.)

(She wanted to tell Frank. Damn it.)

Mel’s inhale through her teeth was audible, piercing the air. Samira peered at her, through her fingers.

‘I bolted.’ Mel clapped a hand over her mouth. Her eyes large as saucers. ‘It’s bad. I know.’

‘Have you spoken to him?’

‘Have you spoken to Frank?’ Ouch. But warranted. Mel annoyingly had set herself up for that particular jab.

Mel tugged her legs up under her. Samira grabbed the sour candy and basically tipped the bag over her mouth. ‘We really are something aren’t we?’ Mel shook her head with a wry smile. They both fell into pearls of laughter. 80% genuine 20% in self loathing.

‘Is....’ Mel mimicked Samira’s earlier hand gesture. ‘Everything okay? No permanent damage?’ Samira tossed a cushion at Mel’s head. Easily avoided but the laughter is much more light hearted.

(Mel is learning how to be funny. Or maybe she was always funny.)

‘As far as I know. But jesus how humiliating....’ Samira's hands framed her lovely face. Cupping around her disney princess eyes. 

‘If you did this as a mark of solidarity with my stupid actions... You really didn’t need to headbutt Abbot in the penis.’ Samira’s jaw dropped. Mel could see her regret at having launched her one weapon too soon. ‘Though I appreciate the dedication.’ One of the things Mel has learned is that her sense of humour can run dry. Her deadpan delivery has lead to many an awkward moment.

She can see Samira process it. A brief moment of wondering is this bitch for real??? Before Mel grinned brightly. Her friend quickly snapped a photo of it. Uploaded to instagram before Mel can stop her.

‘That’s what you get for being a little shit.’ Mel batted her eyes obnoxiously. They both laughed again.

Samira stared at her phone. ‘Is it better to apologise for accidental injury over text or in person?’

Mel nibbled at her finger contemplatively. ‘If you text you can attach a nude to really make up for it? Or as a medical test.’ Mel barely clamped down on her laughter as she said it. ‘Checking you did no permanent damage.’ Faux medical professional voice. 

‘I’m going to kill you.’ Samira's words said murder. However her face was curious, pondering... intrigued. Her hand tapping at her screen.

Mel tugged a blanket up around her. Night fully settled on the city. She felt better than she had in ages. ‘Thanks for that. I really needed to get out of my head.’ Mel turned her head back inside to the apartment. Becca really was pissed. She usually appeared when Samira was around.

Samira raised her eyebrows, but was sympathetic. ‘So you still are avoiding him?’ Mel shrugged shrinking back into herself. Her head resting against the wall next to her.

‘I don’t want to avoid him. I miss him. But I really don’t know what to say to him.’ Her fingers picked at the frayed edge of the blanket. Samira tugged up her usual blanket, watching Mel carefully. She and Frank had become really close since he joined her residency class. Mel hated putting her best friend in the middle of it.

‘I mean you could just not use words... jump him.’ Payback was a bitch. A lovely bitch named Samira. The idea had occurred to Mel. In her dreams. But it really wasn’t her style. Mel could do the sexy photos and stuff like that. But that was because Mel could control it. Take her time picking the outfit or not. The poses, the lighting. Mel had the power. Making a move like that left too much up to chance. 

(Left her heart exposed and vulnerable.)

Her accidental move had her in an absolutely tizzy.

(A second might actually kill her)

‘I’m just going to lock you two in a closet. Fuck your way out of it.’ Samira shrugged turning to stare out at the sky.

Mel frowned at her with a wry smile. ‘Trinity you’ve changed.’ They both cackled. It was very Trinity.

Eventually they both clocked that it was getting late. Mel offered her couch but Samira turned her down. Mel leaned back against the front door after she said bye to Samira. Her eyes landing on her sisters door. It was nearly 11, was there any point in trying her.

Mel wasn’t wrong for needing her space or not having the energy for Becca’s hyper fixations. But she could have handled it better. Her rubbed her face again, sighing. The door creaked open slowly.

(Frank had been meaning to fix that.)

Becca had done her hair in a beautiful fishtail braid. She stepped out in her giant fuzzy bunny rabbit slippers. Her eyes large with sadness. Hands playing with her favourite non-newtonian fluid. Ripping it. Popping it and stretching it out. Her science fidget toy. Mel could feel her lip quiver.

‘I’m sorry!’ Both sisters nearly shouted at each other. In twinly unison. Neither crying  but they clinging to each other in a tight hug. Instantly the last of Mel’s bad mood lifted from her shoulders.

‘I shouldn’t have been so short with you. I’m sorry.’ Mel followed Becca into the kitchen. King sister tradition. After a fight, no matter the weather, hot chocolates are served. It’s Becca’s turn to make them. Thank god she hadn’t grabbed the marshmallows earlier. 

(Becca would have killed her)

Becca pottered around the kitchen. Laying out the ingredients in a neat row. Everything in the right volumes and in its place. ‘I should have recognised you were dealing with something. You can’t always be engaged with everything and I need to be better about not expecting that of you.’ Mel blinked back tears. Happy tears. Three years ago Becca would have been off with Mel for days. Unless Mel caved and bought her something, pandered to her. Now Becca was able to recognise her limits were not her sisters.

Becca frowned at Mel. ‘No more hugs though. I love you but no.’ Mel nodded silently in agreement.

‘Well I’m not watching Elf again.’ Mel stuck her tongue out and Becca giggled loudly. Whipped cream, sprinkles and colourful marshmallows were piled high on the giant hot chocolates. Diabetes in a mug. Beautifully styled. Mel quickly snapped a photos of both mugs. They looked amazing in the dim fairy lights.

Makes fighting with the sister worth it! @queenbecca

Becca laughed even louder at the caption. Quickly sharing to her own profile.

‘Do you want to talk about it? Why you’ve been down?’ Mel sipped at her hot chocolate slowly. Becca downed hers way too fast. Mel could feel the sugar coat her tongue. ‘You and Frank having a fight?’ Mel paused. Of course she’d noticed. Becca knew her better than anyone.

(Frank hadn't been around. Becca was observant.)

She sighed, curling up into the corner of the couch. Becca’s large eyes blinked at her, patiently.

‘No....’

‘Did you kiss? Was it awkward? Did he have bad breath?’ Mel couldn’t not laugh at the questions. Becca was mostly joking. The glean in her eyes screamed it. She desperately shipped Mel and Frank. Had from the moment she met him in person. Saw the dark hair falling into his piercing blue eyes. And Mel had never known a peaceful day ever again. 

(Deemed him to be her Disney Prince)

‘No nothing like that.’ Well kinda like that but Mel wasn’t going to get into the details. Becca frowned, deep in thought.

‘He should kiss you. He likes you I know it.’ Her cheeks heated at up at the definitive tone in her sisters voice. Higher in pitch to her own. ‘Or is he mad you stole his hoodie? I mean that’s fair you should give that back.’

Fuck.

Mel really was a shit liar.

‘I didn’t steal it.’ So much left unsaid.

(She hasn't stolen it. She does intend on giving it back. Sometime when looking at him doesn't make her want to shrivel up and die.)

‘Hm. Well you two should make up. Doing crosswords with Frank is a little weird at the moment and I don’t like it. Also you’re sad. He’s sad. It doesn’t work.’ Becca glared at her. It was nice to know that despite Mel’s behaviour Frank was still talking to Becca. Their weekly crossword challenges. ‘Also more importantly I miss Lido. You are depriving me of pupper time. That’s a crime against the sisterly code.’ Her little huff at the end made them both giggle.

Mel also missed the huge goofy goldendoole. Lido as in Lidocaine. So Frank’s sense of humour. Little punny and nerdy. Almost the cliched Fido and easy for the kids to say. And there was a canine link. So very very stupid.

‘Look I just have to work out what to say to Frank. But I will. I compromised your pupper time. Unforgivable crime.’ Becca nodded sagely. But didn’t pry further. Mel really was very glad. She had no idea how to explain accidentally sending Frank a sexy photo.

‘Is Samira okay?’ Oh god Mel didn’t even know where to start with that.

‘She’s fine. Just had a.... an awkward date.’

Becca wriggled eagerly in her corner. Diving for the gossip. ‘She finally went out with Dr Cowboy???’ Becca couldn't decide between Dr Cowboy or Dr Batman. Mel was more partial to Cowboy. Batman was a little too accurate. Too dark. Depressive.

‘Second date.’ Mel offered. Becca put down her now empty mug. Lifted her closed fists to her fast and squeed. She loved Samira. All she wanted for her was to be just as settled into a romance as Mel.

‘Did he have bad breath?’ Both sisters fell about giggling again. Mel just shook her head. Draining the last of her hot chocolate.

Mel flicked through their varying streaming services. Looking for something light and funny to watch.

Anything but Elf.

Robin Hood: Men in Tights felt like a good fit.

Becca grabbed the blankets and popcorn. Both sisters playing on their phones as they watched the movie. They’d seen it a million times. Her hot chocolates had popped off with The Pitt. Samira lamenting leaving early. Shen demanding a delivery to the Pitt immediately. Dana marvelling at the artistry. Frank even commented praying his kids never saw it.

There was a reply to Franks comment that stopped Mel dead.

Who was Abby Rose? Mel had her account to private and she did not remember accepting this request.

Abby.

Abby...

Mel choked on the air. It was his ex wife??? She followed Mel on instagram? Why? How? For how long???

Next time you are late to pick up, I’m showing them this insanely beautiful display.

It was friendly, familiar no overtone of anything heavier. There was a faint surge of jealousy and fear dancing in her gut.

‘When did I accept a follow request from Abby former Langdon???’ Out of the corner of her eye Becca froze.

Mel groaned. ‘Beccccccca you didn’t!’ Becca smiled cutely at her. Batting her eyes owlishly.

‘I... well... I saw she followed Frank and after a quick google I figured out who she was and I was curious. She seems really nice.’ Mel sighed internally. Truth be told Mel had been very curious about Franks former wife. It took everything in her to not go stalk her instagram right at that moment. She’d save if for her next girls night with Samira.

-------

Samira frowned at her reflection, glancing over to Mel as she adjusted her trousers. ‘Are you sure this is okay?’ Mel examined her friends outfit. Faux leather wide legged trousers, styled with a simple black tank top and healed ankle books.

‘You look amazing. But I think you need to tighten the belt a little more.’ Mel brushed her braid out. Hair fluttering around her shoulders in deep waves. She even put on a little makeup. Foundation and simple eyeliner. Nothing crazy. Samira continued to fidget with her outfit. Borrowed from Yolanda’s wardrobe. Samira’s own style could be generous described as 90s vintage chic. Even Mel was being very kind about it. As much as Mel adored her friend. Her clothing choices didn’t do much for her.

Samira tightened the belt and fluffed her hair. Mel carefully pulled out her own outfit. Heel black knee high boots with lacy tights. Paired with a black pleated mini skirt and fitted waistcoat.

(Mel liked her boobs. Any chance to show them off appropriately.)

‘Better tightened. Definitely.’ Mel nodded sagely as she pulled on her leather jacket. Samira didn’t look any more reassured. Her gaze looking almost jealous as she took in Mel’s outfit.

‘It just doesn’t feel like me. You look super dressed up but it still looks like you.’ Mel looked down at herself. Slightly confused by Samira’s statement. She was willowy and naturally stunning. Didn’t need an ounce of makeup to draw attention.

‘Well... these are my clothes.’

‘Effortless style.’ Samira sighed sadly, sitting heavily down next to her.

It was Mels turn to frown at her friend. ‘No.’ Her tone was firm. Much firmer than it tended to be with her best friend. Samira stilled at it. ‘This isn’t effortless.’ Mel gestured at her clothes. ‘I took time to pick these out. I spent way too long not even thinking about clothes, loosing myself in school and taking care of Becca. I barely took care of myself. But I learned a few years ago if I am to be any good to anyone else I need to be good to me. So I started having fun with clothes. You deserve that too.’

To her credit, Samira didn’t argue. Just nodded. ‘Okay, you’re right.’

‘Part of finding your style is finding what you don’t like.’ Samira stood up again, posing in the mirror. Mel tugged her hair out from under her jacket. ‘Does that feel like you?’ Dana was listening to the conversation. Catching Mel’s eye she nodded in approval. Mel damn near preened at the blessing. 

(She was a people pleaser. Sue her.)

Samira smiled softly at her reflection. ‘Reminds me of how I wanted to dress as a teenager. Kinda Buffy vibes?’ Mel grinned brightly.

‘That’s where I started!’ Samira gave her a quick hug. Dana changed in what seemed to be in the blink of the eye. Jeans and a loose shirt. Effortless, classic chic.

Dana wrapped an arm around Samira’s shoulders. Kindly not doing the same with Mel. Guiding both of them out. Having a free Saturday evening was a rarity. The ladies were having a casual girls night. Tapas and a few cocktails.

Shen wolf whistled at the trio as they made their way out. Dana just gave him the finger with a grin. His face suddenly twitched. Mel turned her head to see Cassie jogging to catch up with them. High waisted fitted dress pants with a sheer loose shirt. Hair tossed up in a messy bun that Mel never could pull off with confidence. Mel arched at eyebrow at Shen.

It wasn’t often Mel had the upper hand. He blanched before looking sheepishly impressed and disappearing.

(Mel felt a little smug at reading him so well.)

‘I thought this was a casual night out.... You all look fantastic! Putting us men to shame.’ Mel was now the one freezing now. Cassie laughed in her big way, turning to Frank. He was leaning against the nurses station, multicoloured bag hanging off one shoulder. Casual. Like nothing could faze him.

(Jealous. Mel radiated everything she felt.)

Cassie tossed imaginary hair over her shoulder. ‘Frank, we can’t help but look this good.’ The banter flew straight over Mel’s head. She was vaguely aware that Shen was standing at the opposite side of the station, trying not to stare at Cassie. Frank just grinning at her as they bantered back and forth. Yolanda hollered from the other side of the Pitt. Telling them all to get their asses outside.

Mel hesitated. Not sure what to say or if she should say anything. Frank’s eyes landed on her. Sweeping up and down over her outfit. She fought back the urge to shrink back. Standing a little straighter. His head tilted with a smirk.

‘You look amazing. It’s a good look on you Doctor K. Have a good night.’ He nodded at her as he headed out for the night. Mel tried to say something but Trinity appeared from behind and started shoving her out.

(That stare was a little more than usual. Like he liked looking at her?)

‘Queen lets goooooo!’

The night went on a little later than Mel had intended to. One quiet restaurant with a couple of drinks had turned into bar hoping. And it was all Dana’s idea. Though everyone knew that Trinity would be getting the gossipy blame next shift.

Mel had only gone a little further than she had intended to. 4 drinks instead of her typical 2. But the buzz was pleasant as Mel landed in through her door. Not drunk just cheery. Samira giggling behind her. She had news for Mel that she didn’t want to discuss with the Pitt at large. So she’d had a couple more than Mel.

‘Sorry Becca!’ Samira tapped on her sisters door. Much tipsier than Mel was.

‘It’s okay. She’s staying at the centre tonight. Rehearsals for the musical start tomorrow. She wanted an early start.’ Mel reached down awkwardly, trying to get her boots off without sitting down. Samira threw herself onto the couch.

Her dark eyes shining with glee and the haze of inebriation. ‘John?’ Samira’s tone was dark and flirty. Mel laughed, then sighed as she finally got the boots off. Freedom.

‘She claims no. But she’s being unusually quiet about it.’ Samira giggled brightly. Mel curled up in her corner, pushing Samira’s legs out of the way.

Samira eagerly wriggled up into a seated position. Mel focused carefully on her. ‘You were so right. Needed to get out of my head.’ It took Mel a second to catch what Samira was talking about. Abbot. Right. Mel was happily going to blame the alcohol for her delay. Mel’s phone lit up on the coffee table.

‘Sooooo.....?’

Samira sighed in a heavy but bright way. ‘I sent him a full on nude.’ Samira winked. ‘We had sex and Mel.... it was so good. Mind blowing even.’ Mel didn’t ask for details. She didn’t want details. Abbot was one of her attendings after all. It would be a bit weird.

‘No more headbutting.’

‘No. Maybe some choking.’ Mel burst out laughing at that. Flapping her hands in front of her screwed up face.

‘No details please. I am not drunk enough for that.’ Mel shuddered from top to toe. ‘Do you want to crash here? Becca won’t mind you taking her bed.’ Samira shook her head, dark curls bouncing in the air.

‘Nah, Jack might be popping in post shift.’ Mel groaned at the flithy tone and look on her friends face. She was happy for her. Delighted even. But Mel did not need to see Abbot in a different light. Samira grabbed her phone as Mel stood up, padding into the kitchen. ‘I want to make sure it wasn’t a one hit wonder of a moment.’

The cool air from the fridge was nice against Mel’s clammy skin. She grabbed two water bottles. Her past self being very clever. ‘Evidence based fucking?’ Samira cackled again at Mel’s dry comment. Both of them gulped down water as Samira ordered an uber. Mel’s phone buzzed again.

As she reached over to grabbed her phone, Samira sat a little straighter. ‘You should really try it. You and Langdon can’t keep going like this. Like today was the first time you guys have even had anything close to a conversation because you keep running. And he’s letting you.’ Disappointed and concerned. Mel stared at her dark phone screen. ‘And it wasn’t even a conversation you just stared at at him. I don’t like it.’

(Neither did Mel.)

Mel opened her mouth, only a faint noise coming out. She coughed and tried again. ‘I keep trying but I just freeze and bolt. It’s so embarrassing.’ Samira rolled her eyes melodramatically.

‘I headbutted Jack in the dick. I think you two can get past one ill timed photo.’ That Mel couldn’t argue with. And it wasn’t like Abbot wasn’t any less complicated than Frank. PTSS, depression, a widower. Fairly comparable to Frank’s situation just a different flavour. Mel didn’t have an answer for her. Samira’s phone dinged, her cab had arrived. She stood up, a little shakily and pressed a kiss to Mel’s head. ‘Like you said. Try not to over think it.’

Mel was left sitting on the couch, pondering. Her phone still dark in her hand. As the door clicked shut Mel opened up her phone. Several notifications from instagram. Oh god someone broke the pact to only post after sober checking.

A text came in.

Frank.

Hope you got home safely. Miss you

The simple message was honestly perfect. Mel sat quietly for a moment. Breathing carefully in and out.

Don’t over think it.

She could do that. A photo message appeared before she could reply. Mel frown at the photo. 

What was she looking at. Her brain struggling to process the image. 

A headless man sitting in a comfortable chair. Only in boxers and a journal in his lap. Legs parted. Thick strong legs. Only partially blocking his crotch. He was extremely fit with a thick trail of chest hair that begged to be followed downward.

Mel blinked. Her inner muscles clenched instinctively, wantonly. The rush of heat and wetness almost shocking to her. Instant lust. Not a typical reaction for Mel. But this was an excellent photo.

There were tattoos on his arm. Tattoos she recognised.

Frank?

[mikellaetchramblings]

day three: road trip

@kingdonmicrofic | wc: 483 | ao3

The wind is blowing through her hair as he drives down the highway. He’s wearing those ridiculous orange sunglasses, the pair that she bought him as a gag gift because she thought they looked silly and reminded her of him.

He’s been wearing the sunglasses every day since. 

Frank is singing quietly along to the song playing on the playlist they made after he got out of rehab, before they got together.

It’s called a Spotify Blend, he had told Mel. It’s my songs and your songs in one playlist. I want to know what you listen to, what music you like.

Now he knows every word to all her favorite songs, from the obscure songs from the 80s that she listens to because they remind her of her mom, or the rap music that keeps her motivated. 

They’re on a road trip to Colorado. Mel carefully planned their itinerary, wanting to visit the great landmarks along the way and try to see as many national parks as they could.

Mel had grown up in a small town, rural, with not much city life. Moving to Pittsburgh was hard on her and Becca, a different environment than they were used to. 

I prefer being around nature, she had told Frank on their fourth date. The tan line from his wedding on his ring finger had started to fade. It’s very calming and not as loud. You can take it all in, the sounds of all the birds, the smell of the trees, and feel the lushness underneath your feet. I miss it.

Frank had looked at her so intensely then, telling her, I would like for you to show me it one day.

She had smiled at him so brightly, reaching out to touch his hand. I would love to.

After months of planning for their wedding, constant panic and worry about how it would go, and making sure Becca would be comfortable (Frank had bought her a new pair of noise-cancellation headphones because her previous ones broke), they are finally on their honeymoon.

“What are you thinking about, sweetheart?” He asks her, grinning.

She giggles, her heart feeling full and light. He reaches out for her hand and kisses it. 

She had never thought they’d end up here. They were different people back then. He had told her at one point, back when things were strained between them, when he was still with Abby, that he was in love with her. Frank told her with tears in his eyes that he didn’t want to live a life of regret. He has already fucked up so much. And he knows that she deserved better, his wife deserved better, and his kids deserve better, too. But that didn’t stop him from falling in love with her. That didn’t stop her from falling in love with him.

“You,” she says, eyes bright like the sun.

[mikellaetchramblings]

Day 4: Garden

Mel is asked to quiz Frank while he gardens.

He may be trying to kill her. A small death... hehe. Swearing. 500 words. Boom

Teen rating. for @kingdonmicrofic August Slipped Away.

Mel has never been one for gardens. She’s a well documented killer of houseplants.

Her record is a month before it’s tragic fall out a window.

Besides her murderous thumb. Gardening is just- the smells, the heat the mud and debris.

Her skin crawls at the very thought of digging in the ground. Dirt and grim getting everywhere.

But her skin is crawling for a very different reason today. Frank in his typical multitasking ways has asked her to quiz him for his upcoming boards. Whilst landscaping. So he is walking around nailing nearly every single question she throws at him as his shirt becomes more and more sheer.

Mel never thought she had a thing for the hyper masculine burly outdoor man. Or maybe it’s just Frank.

When combined with his clear command of medical knowledge. Mel is left sitting on the patio an overheated horny mess of a woman. Curse her for having a very sensible attraction to people who are highly skilled and intelligent.

Competency kink sue her.

When Frank rattles off strategies for intubation on an unconscious patient with a compromised airway. As he stretched, wiping his face with the bottom of his tank top. Mel actually tears her notebook. Her nails digging into the paper. The flash of tones abs and that weirdly curious chest hair.

She’s fighting to not climb him like the tree he’s leaning against.

‘Shit, you really aren’t playing with these questions.’ Frank ambles over to her. She’s praying that he misreads the flush and twitchiness as a reaction to the hot weather. Instead of his hotness.

She passes over the ice water. Frank takes it with a fond eye roll. She’s been hassling all day about hydrating. ‘You asked me to go in on these.’ He winks.

‘That I did.’ He stands over her for a moment, head stretched up to the sky. Mel does her best to not watch the droplets of sweat running down his neck. Fails miserably. Mel turns back to her notes, trying to find the cases that Garcia had sent her. Which was exactly the moment Frank decides to strip off his shirt.

This was the man who loved ice baths. ‘Fuck it’s hot.’ Mel swallows audibly as he plonks down on the ground next to her. His head resting against her outstretched leg.

‘Yeah you are.’ Mel meant to just think it. Not have it pop out like it does. Especially as Frank being his shirtless showing off his knowledge self. The both freeze. Mel praying that he misheard her.

But of course he has.

Frank sits up, taking the notes off her. Her death grip making that tricky. And leans over her. Gently plucking off her sunglasses.

‘What?’ His eyes are dead level with hers. Piercing and unreadable.

‘Hm?’ Panic. Panic. Panic.

‘Melissa.’ It’s overwhelming. There’s so much skin and hair. Unblinking blue.

It’s lucky for them both that his garden is fully closed off to prying eyes. Exhibitionism apparently works for them.