Chapter Text
Mel should have known better. She really, well and truly should have known better. She and Frank could spend hours just talking to each other. They’d done it in rare slow moments in the ED, in long late-night phone calls when one or both couldn’t sleep, in the park after shitty shifts with ginger ales in hand. So when her phone alarm went off, set to a safe thirty minutes before their movie, Mel startled badly. She’d been totally unaware of how much time had passed with them just sitting in the cafe talking, despite two pots of tea, three empty cappuccino cups, and the detritus of two cinnamon rolls littered on the table between them.
“Oh, geez, is that really the time?” Frank asked, checking his own phone. “Damn, I really wanted to check out the grounds.”
“I think everything else would take more time - places like the house, of course, and the car museum which I think you’d like. We probably have time for the greenhouse, and the gift shop. Oh!” She’d distracted herself. She had an idea for the giftshop. “There’s a section for kids stuff, books and things. I’d like to get Tanner and Penny something, if that’s something you’re okay with.”
Frank only blinked at her. She watched his phone go dark in his hand.
“Mel,” he started, but seemed to run out of words.
“Or, I guess, if that’s something Abby would be okay with - I know I haven’t met them yet, and I’d never want to step on anyone’s toes, or overstep boundaries, or -”
“Mel.” He grabbed her hands across the table. His hands were so warm. “You don’t need to worry about crossing boundaries. Not with gifts from an over-priced museum gift shop. To be totally blunt, Abby knows all about you and how I feel about you. She’ll have no issue with small presents for the kids. She’d like to meet you, when you’re comfortable with it.”
Mel had to take a minute to think about that. And to think about how nice Frank’s hands felt around hers. And to think about the fact that Frank’s ex-wife apparently knew how he felt about Mel. There was a lot happening in her brain, not helped by the two pots of caffeinated tea she’d had while they sat at the museum cafe. Bad for her anxiety and bad for her bladder. She was going to have to pee in about twenty minutes. Not important. Anyways.
“How you feel about me?” That felt like the important part of what he’d said. And also what might be the answer to a lot of questions she’d asked during the last couple of years. This felt like a very weighty conversation for a first date, but that was just how they operated. From the start, that very first cursed day, they’d orbited each other. Mel was long aware of how she felt about Frank, but the idea that he might return the depth of her feelings - Well, she was starting to sound like a regency-era romance novel, even in her own head.
“Yeah, Mel. How I feel about you.” He kissed the knuckles on her right hand, then her left. “And as much as I’d like to discuss that right now, we’ve gotta get going. Talk and walk?”
“Talk and walk,” Mel confirmed. She had a plan - gifts for the kids from the giftshop, followed by figuring out exactly what Frank meant about how he felt about her. He kept her hand in his on the short walk to the gift shop, which Mel was unreasonably charmed by.
Less charming was her indecision over what to get for the Langdon children. She’d known, the whole time she’d known Frank, that he was a father. She also knew, from her own childhood, how much it burned to have your father seemingly care for someone else more than his own kids. That couldn’t be placated with empty gifts, but she had to start somewhere. But where?
“They’re going to like anything you get them,” Frank said from where he was browsing the book selection.
“I know. I just want to get it right.” She had a strong feeling Tanner would like the tin car, but it had a warning on the side of the box about choking hazards. Penny was mostly out of the toddler put-everything-in-mouth, curiosity-requires-the-Heimlich phase - mostly being the operative word. Nor was the dog to be entirely trusted either. Nor was Penny to be trusted to not give the dog non-food items. Mel put the car down. She picked it back up. Tanner really would like it.
“Sweetheart.” He’d called her sweetheart earlier too, when he’d given her the flowers. It made her heart go pitter-patter in a way that was probably medically concerning. “They’re six and three years old. They’re going to be thrilled no matter what.”
“I know,” Mel repeated. The choking hazard label specifically said to keep away from children under three. She frowned at the items in front of her.
“Run it by me, King,” Frank urged. “No wrong answers.”
“I think Tanner would like the car. I think Penny would enjoy the fingerpainting activity. The paint is water-based, which should be easy to clean. And the book is educational for them both.” A specific gift for each child, and something they could (theoretically) share. Even, square, and thoughtful.
“Perfect,” Frank said.
“But the choking hazard label says -”
“Mel, I guarantee you that Tanner is going to treat this tin car as a gift from God. He may not even take it out of the box.”
“So he won’t like the car?”
“No, he... God, my kids are weird. Tanner does this thing where anything precious to him goes on a literal shelf. He made me put one up in the condo, and it’s got the most random shit on it, I swear. My one year chip, a rock his preschool best friend gave him, half a broken crayon.”
“That sounds perfectly reasonable to me,” Mel said. She glanced at the art supplies on offer. “What color is the crayon?”
“Yellow, I think?”
“Excellent choice.”
“I’ll tell him you think so. He treats this shelf with religious reverence. Anyways, Penny is the exact opposite. She has a chronic case of cuteness aggression - she destroys everything. She has this stuffed duck toy, it’s got a terrible name so don’t ask, and we keep extras on hand for when it gets to be, like, an actual biohazard. The dog treats his toys better than Penny treats hers,” Frank muttered.
“Frank, have you considered having your children tested for neurodivergence?” Mel asked as she set her items on the check-out counter. The clerk scanning everything looked concerned, but Frank laughed.
“It’s on the to-do list,” he said. “We’ll wait until they’re a little older, really let the weirdness marinate up in their funny little heads.”
“Will that be all?” The clerk was still looking between them with some amount of concern.
“Frank, your book,” Mel urged.
“You’re not buying my book, Mel. You paid in the cafe,” he said.
“Membership discount! And you already paid for the movie tickets,” she argued.
“And I’ll be paying for waffles, too; don’t think I won’t,” Frank said, handing the book to the clerk without letting her see the cover. He still grumbled under his breath when the total was announced. He insisted on carrying the bag too, and opened the heavy doors to bring them back outside.
“Greenhouse? We still have time,” Mel said. Not a lot of it, but still time. She’d dithered for quite a while over what to get the kids. Dithered. Excellent word.
“Greenhouse.” Frank took her hand and let her lead the way.