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Frank knows he has an issue with effectively leaping whenever he walks. Standing at six foot one, his stride is longer than most people’s. And then there’s also the fact that he’s an ER doctor with a border collie-like tendency to bounce from one bay to another. When he has places to go, getting him to slow down is near to impossible.
This used to be a big problem for him – his ex-wife used to harp on about it all the time, and honestly, he never understood why it was a big deal; he never made the conscious effort to slow down.
But over the last couple of years, Frank has had to learn how to do just that. Sure, rehab was a big part of that, but funnily enough, the conscious act of ‘slowing down’ only really hits him when he’s walking with Mel.
See, when he’s walking with Mel, he doesn’t feel the need to rush. There’s no reason for him to escape a conversation or slip away before things get awkward because they just don’t. He finds himself slowing down because he wants to spend more time with her, make sure he’s not leaping away from her or more often than not, ensuring that she’s not having to jog just to keep up with him.
It was a few months after he got back from rehab when he noticed that she was always just the slightest bit out of breath whenever they ran across the hospital to the nicer coffee shop. Since then, he’s made it a conscious effort not to sprint. When he’s with Mel, at least.
And he’s been doing well! She’s even picked him up on it and expressed her gratitude for doing so, but like all habits, sometimes you slip and running down the long and harrowingly abandoned hotel hallway is one of those moments.
When Robby told him that he was sending Frank to a medical conference in California, he felt as if it was a pity reward, like one of those medals you give to the kids that come last in a race, as if he was saying 'Well done for doing your job even though everyone else around you is also doing their job and probably better than you and also they haven’t had to rely on stolen hospital drugs just to get out of bed.' But then he said that he’s sending Mel, and suddenly a long weekend on the golden coast sounded like a dream.
That’s before he knew what Mel was like at a medical conference. He should’ve anticipated this, should’ve picked up on the fact when she said that she emailed the organisers ahead of time to see if she could get a better idea of the schedule.
Naturally, she attended every single conference. And he means every single conference. Even the ones that ran at the same time - she split her time between the two and would then stay late, into their lunch hour to pester the speaker about the things she missed. And as if he were tethered by a rope, Frank stood by her side, shifting his weight from one foot to the other in the hopes his fidgeting would speed things up. (It did not).
It’s for this exact reason why Frank is sprinting strolling down the 14th floor hallway with Mel in tow, trying to gain access to the one place he couldn’t stop thinking of the entire flight over.
“This doesn’t seem like a good idea,” Mel whispers, looking over her shoulder with a frown. She looks distressed, but not enough to actually turn back. Frank’s known her for long enough to know the difference.
“Mel. Melissa. You dragged me to every single conference, even the one about negotiating pay,” Frank says, fashioning his stride into a sort of crab-like walk in an effort to pace himself.
“That’s arguably the most important one!” She huffs, inching forward to catch up with him.
“And then the dinner, you promised an hour, max and what happened?” He continues, quickly stopping and plastering himself against the wall. He grabs Mel’s wrist before she can pass him and pulls her back until they’re shoulder to shoulder. He reaches his head around, checking to see if there’s any staff members or security guards lingering around, all whilst keeping a firm grip on Mel’s wrist. Her pulse is racing slightly, in the 90s at least.
“Well…” Mel starts, wincing slightly when Frank turns to glance at her, “Dr. Robby told us to network, and we would’ve never learnt about the accuracy of tongue coating in identifying acute appendicitis if we missed the dinner!” She says defensively as Frank sets off again, turning the corner and only remembering to drop her wrist when she’s walking alongside him.
“And what about the 40-minute conversation about imaging of the Dorsal Thumb Tendons?” Frank says, turning 180 degrees and walking backwards so he can see her face contort with guilt.
“Dr. Walkley was really interesting and incredibly informative! He even gave me his personal number so I could contact him with any questions.” She quips back, a small furrow forming between her brows.
“He was flirting with you, Mel,” Frank says plainly, turning back around before he trips over himself. They’re close - he can smell the chlorine, and it almost smells as nice as the perfume Mel’s been wearing this weekend.
“No, he w-“ Mel starts, and Frank can hear her footsteps stop. He glances over his shoulder, getting a brief look at the expression on her face as she reckons with the information in real time. “Was he?” She asks quietly. A rhetorical question, probably. Even if it wasn’t, Frank isn’t about to lay out all the ways Dr. Walkley was eyeing up Mel, even though he was standing right next to her like a guard dog.
Mel’s back on his heels by the time they reach the door leading to the pool. Frank hears the inhale coming from his left, but they’re here already, and he knows he’s not going to be left unscathed, so he pushes the door open and hopes the alarm doesn’t blare.
It doesn’t.
Instead, the sound of Mel’s rushed whisper follows, reprimanding him. “Frank!” He listens out for her footsteps when they naturally follow him out onto the rooftop.
He sighs in relief, drops his head back and nearly groans as he sees the empty pool. The moonlight bounces on the surface of the water, and he’s stripping his blazer off before he’s even at the edge.
In the rush of everything, he didn’t have time to run up to grab an actual swimsuit, but he was sure he could just grab some clean robes from somewhere. That’s an afterthought, though, especially as he gets closer.
“I don’t understand why you’re so hellbent on swimming in this pool,” Mel says, looking over her shoulder in another cautionary glance before hesitantly stepping towards him.
“We live in Pittsburgh.” He deadpans. “Do you know how rare it is to come by a perfectly heated pool?”
“There’s a perfectly good one at the local community centre.”
“I wouldn’t even let my kids play in that pool.” He purses his lips with distaste before pulling the knot of his tie looser.
Frank watches Mel’s face fondly as she rolls her eyes. She glances over her shoulder again and shifts from one heel to another restlessly.
In the four seconds it took him to come up with this plan, and the subsequent 10 seconds it took him to lure Mel into the elevator, he didn’t anticipate having to try so hard to win her over. But here he was, failing miserably.
Time to pull out the big guns.
“Just 20 minutes. So my back doesn’t seize up on tomorrow’s flight.” He says with an air of gentleness. He’s playing dirty, but only because he knows Mel won’t say no – his back is her ultimate weakness.
She squints, almost shocked that he dared to even play that card, but then her lips curl into a sort of smile, and Frank finds himself mirroring it shamelessly. “That’s low.” She says, shaking her head before sighing. Her expression slips back to concern as she sets her hands on her hips. “Fine. 20 minutes.”
Frank has to stop himself from throwing his fist up in joy like an idiot. He won, but he knew that he’d win her over when they stepped foot into the elevator. He throws his tie off and over his head and starts toeing his shoes off when he realises Mel is walking in the opposite direction.
“Hey, what, where are you going?” He asks, deeply offended.
“I’m going to stay here and prepare for when security inevitably kicks us out.” She says, gesturing to the lounge chairs sitting on the edge of the pool.
“No!” Frank groans, throwing his head back. “Who am I supposed to play mermaids with now?”
“You’re 35.”
“Marco Polo then.” He mocks, shrugging his shoulders. Mel looks at him with a straight face, and it fuels all kinds of levity in him. He exhales loudly, frowning before holding his hand out. “Fine. Can I borrow your phone for a minute? Mine’s dead.”
Mel hands it over without a second thought, like she always does. Frank’s never been very good with technology, which explains his six-year-old phone with a battery capacity of 48%. At least four times a week, he will ask to borrow Mel’s phone, and luckily, she’s gotten so used to it, she didn’t even ask what he needed it for.
“What’s the deal, can you not swim?” He asks, looking up through his eyelashes as he pretends to look busy. He opens up her lava lamp app and swipes the bubbles up and down with a frown, feigning extreme importance.
Mel scoffs at this. Hard. “I can swim.” She says with an air of haughtiness.
“Really?” Frank eggs on.
“I’ll have you know that I am a certified lifeguard.” She reveals, and Frank tilts his head up sharply, staring into her eyes in disbelief.
“Actually?” He asks hesitantly, locking her phone and measuring the distance between him, the lounger and the pool itself. The key card is in the back of her phone, and she’s not got her bag on her. Sure, she’s wearing shoes, but they’re not the ones she’s going to wear tomorrow on the flight. It’s risky, but it’s worth it.
Mel nods proudly. “I got it in college. Funny story, actually, my roommate and I- Frank! Ahhhhh!”
Before she can finish the sentence, Frank throws her phone onto the lounger, wraps his hands around her waist and jumps backwards into the pool, dragging them both under the surface.
Mel’s initial scream is softened the moment they’re under the water, but then they come back up for air, and she’s yelling his name over and over again. She splashes water in his face as a crease forms between her eyebrows, and if Frank wasn’t effectively getting waterboarded by her, he feels as if he’d do something stupid like lean forward and smooth it out.
“What were you thinking, my shoes, my glasses!” She cries out, reaching down to pull her ballet flats off her feet. She turns them upside down, and a small stream of water pours out of them before she throws them haphazardly towards the lounger.
“I’ll buy you new ones,” Frank says and immediately realises that that was not the correct thing to say as she reaches forward and presses both her hands on his head to drown him.
He comes back up and splutters everywhere with a fat grin on his face because she’s still in the pool, watching him with a glare but one of those Mel glares where she's pissed off but not enough for her not to find it a bit charming.
“You’re the worst.” She says, shaking her head after a few minutes of verbal assault directed at him. Frank smiled stupidly through the whole thing. Her hair sticks up against her forehead as she slowly sways her arms under the water, and Frank can't help but see how effortless it is for her, floating, not like Frank, who’s never been the strongest swimmer and feels as if he’s one wrong move from drowning.
Then again, Mel is a certified lifeguard, and mouth-to-mouth doesn’t sound so-
Anyway.
Pushing that thought aside, he does brashly reach forward and pull her glasses off, pushing the hair off her forehead before tucking it somewhere behind her ear. His eyes only flit to her face to make sure she’s okay with it, but there’s an expression on her face. He can’t make out what it is or what it means, but it feels soft.
She holds her hand out, and he silently passes her glasses back so that she can rest them on the edge of the pool, just far enough so it doesn’t get washed up by any excess pool water washing up over the edge. And then she turns back around to face him, screwing her lips in a way where she’s trying to stop herself from smiling and Frank feels himself buzzing.
Before he can do anything else to ruin the night, he decides to swim away to the edge of the pool where the moonlight illuminates the soft waves created by their movements.
“I was surprised you couldn’t see me weighing it up,” He says, running his hands through his hair to push it back. Mel stares back, frowning slightly in what he can only describe as confusion. “Dragging you in with me.”
She flicks her hand in the water and pulls towards him with a displeased look. The water splashes directly in Frank’s face, but he welcomes it with a grin before wiping a hand down his face.
“I wasn’t going to originally, but then you said you were a lifeguard and,” he exhales, “It all sort of fell into place. My main concern was the clothes.”
Mel raises her brow, waiting for an explanation.
“But then, as a lifeguard, I know you have to be prepared to jump in fully clad, so I weighed out my options and it worked out for the best.” He finishes.
“I’m actually extremely uncomfortable right now.” She says, but makes no effort to jump out of the pool. Frank takes the win. “But you’re right about that, well done.” She quips, turning to press her back against the edge as she looks out onto the length of the pool.
“I try.” He smiles modestly before mirroring her position. There’s a moment of silence between the two of them, only the sound of the water gently lapping against the tiles filling the air as the stress of the weekend slips away from their shoulders.
Frank turns to look at her, can’t help it really. Hasn’t been able to stop his eyes from searching for her since he got back from his (brief) stint in rehab. It probably means something, and Frank does think that he’s on the precipice of finding out, but that’s a whole thing in itself, and he’s much more interested in watching the moonlight bounce off Mel’s face in a way that makes her look like a mermaid.
“Well, is your back feeling any better?” She asks, turning onto her back and gently kicking her legs until she’s a few meters down.
“Ask me in twenty minutes.” He says without giving it much thought. His gaze falls onto Mel, the way she floats in front of him as if she’s one with the water. She looks so peaceful, so beautiful. And with that thought, he immediately sinks down into the water as if he can drown his thoughts. He emerges and shakes his hair like a wet dog before planting his feet onto the floor. “We should race.”
Mel straightens up and flashes him a pitiful look. “Are you sure your ego can handle it?” She swims back to the edge with determination.
“Probably not, but I’m intrigued with your secret double life as a lifeguard. Wait, have you ever run down the beach in slow motion like in Baywatch?” He asks, gently teasing in a way that he knows will throw Mel off guard in the most delicious way.
“No, gross.” She murmurs, avoiding his gaze as she turns to face the water. “Alright then, let’s get this over with. Ready?”
“Wait, how do you start without diving in?” He asks, desperately trying to mirror her starting position and failing miserably at it.
“Set?”
“Wait, is it just to the end or back here?”
“Go!” She laughs, kicking off the side of the pool and elegantly soaring through the water as if it were natural to her.
Frank, on the other hand, gracelessly pushes through the water as if he’s just grown human limbs and is trying to figure out how to use them for the first time. He can swim; that’s not the issue, it’s just very distracting watching Mel swim. She gets to the other side just as he reaches the midpoint.
Normally, losing this pathetically at something would be enough to send him into a childish strop, but seeing Mel at the opposite end of the pool with a sort of haughty smile etched on her face does the opposite. He finds himself pushing forward to meet her at the end to congratulate her.
“That was very impressive.” He nods, impressed.
“And that was shockingly bad. I hope you’re not the one teaching your kids how to swim.” She replies, a small laugh escaping her lips.
They’re in the deep end now, and Frank has to focus a lot more just to tread water. He stays in the middle, swaying his arms and legs as Mel effortlessly glides around him on her back.
“So, what was lifeguard school like?” He asks.
“It was a one-week course in my junior year of college.” She replies, and Frank’s brows shoot up like he wasn’t expecting it. “I used to swim sort of competitively, and I figured it’s a good skill to have. That’s where I got my CPR certification, and look, eight years later, and I’m still using it.”
Frank nods along, watching as she floats onto her back in a starfish position. He tries to imitate her by slowly lowering his head back, but then quickly realises he’s not sure how to keep afloat if his legs keep sinking, so he avoids it altogether.
“How long can you hold your breath underwater?” He asks, moving closer to her head. He can vaguely see her blonde hair floating just under the surface of the water, and the word mermaid rings in his head again.
She spurts out a little awkward laugh, “I’m not sure, maybe 90 seconds if I really tried.” She peeks open one eye as if she knew he was just to the right of her and then closes it again, tilting her head towards the moonlight. “I’ve actually never been in a position where I’ve had to use my training. Apart from the hospital, obviously.”
“You’ve never had to save someone from drowning?” Frank asks, the words leaving his mouth before he realises.
Mel flashes him a look, “No.”
Frank hums and again, in his haste to get Mel’s attention, throws caution to the wind. It’s fine, it’s not as if he’s made great decisions over the course of the night anyway. He dips under the water, stays there for a few seconds before bursting through, shrieking, “I’m drowning! Help, I need a lifeguard!”
He throws his arms around, getting water everywhere, probably directly in Mel’s face, but he’s committed to the bit. He keeps at it, splashing in and out of the water whilst yelling things like, “If only there was a doctor to save me, preferably one with bad eyesight and a secret love for boy bands from the 2000s! Ah! My leg, it’s cramping! Lifeguard, please!”
After a minute or so, he realises that Mel is probably watching from the side, completely unimpressed with him, all whilst the likelihood of him actually drowning increases. She eventually puts him out of his misery and pulls on his arm until they’re closer to the middle of the pool, where he can reach the bottom if he stretches slightly.
“Are you done?” She asks, eyebrow raised.
“Yes.” He says, grinning like Tanner does after he misbehaves.
“Your time is running out, by the way.”
“Hey, before we go, can you teach me how to do that starfish thing?” He asks quickly, in the hopes of distracting her for a minute or two more.
“What, this?” And she’s floating against the surface of the water as if it’s as easy and simple as breathing.
“I can’t do it.” He admits as she straightens up again.
She makes a funny face, “I’m not sure I’ve ever heard you say that. When I first met you, I was sure you probably knew how to do everything, ever.”
Something washes over Frank, something foreign and slightly alarming, as if his body was telling him to escape but also dive straight into the feeling. He swallows hard, eyes following Mel as she floats directly in front of him.
Even after three years of knowing each other, becoming friends and then actual friends, Mel will say something like that, and it will throw Frank’s entire understanding of the world out the window. And because Mel’s never had much of an issue saying what’s on her mind, she renders Frank speechless frequently, and he has no choice but to believe everything she says because she’s never given him a reason not to.
“It’s quite easy. Here, tilt your head back and push your pelvis up into the air.” She says, placing one hand behind his head and the other by the small of his back. Frank’s sort of delirious by her previous comment but then her hands on him feels like the cherry on top of the fucking cake and he simply can’t do anything else but trust her. Trust Mel King, now that felt as easy as breathing.
He does as she says, dropping his head back until his ears fill with water and somehow, maybe by the divine power of something eternal, manages to float until his butt is sitting on the surface of the water. Mel’s hand on his back lowers slightly, and he can feel her fingers resting on the band of his briefs.
She moves down his body and taps the underside of his knee, motioning him to raise his legs until his body is flat, resting just as she was. His arms float mindlessly on either side of him, and just as quickly as they came, she pulls her hands off him.
It takes him a moment to get comfortable with the feeling - to feel safe enough to figuratively let go, but he knows Mel isn’t far, so he takes a deep breath, in and out. And if Frank was a bit of dickhead, he’d probably groan loudly. He still is, sometimes, but he has a feeling Mel wouldn’t appreciate it.
He stays like that for a minute, or ten, he’s not entirely sure. He can occasionally hear Mel swimming around him until he hears her deep exhale, and he opens one eye to see her mirroring his position just a few inches away.
“I feel weightless.” He whispers, fluttering his eyes close.
“Good, isn’t it?” She says. “How’s your back?”
“Good. Really good.” He murmurs, surrendering himself to the way of the water.
“Can I ask you a question?” Mel says.
“Hm,”
“Do you think,” She starts and then stops, as if she’s struggling to get the words out. Frank opens his eyes and looks to the side, where he can see the frown in her profile. “Was Dr. Walkley actually flirting with me?”
Frank blinks quickly, feeling as if the temperature of the water has lowered around ten degrees. “Yeah, he was.” He says, and the words feel all thick and unpleasant coming out of his mouth.
“I didn’t realise.” She says, and her voice sounds so small, as if she’s all cut up about it. Frank wants to drown.
He takes a deep breath and finds it in himself to straighten up. His feet touch the bottom before he swims closer to her. Her personal space forgotten - he’s always had a bit of an issue figuring out where that space is with Mel.
“You know, Mel, a lot of people flirt with you - patients, Javier the EMT, Dr Walkley...” He lists, running his hands through his hair like a nervous tic.
Mel straightens up and mirrors him, a deep frown settling on her forehead. “I-“ She shakes her head, trying to reckon with the fact that Frank has noticed before her. That’s not her fault, really, more of a Frank Langdon issue, but he swears he’s close to figuring it out. “Why would a patient flirt with me when I’m their doctor?” She asks, and Frank realises this is the real test. Not rehab, not the divorce, not the constant drug tests – it’s this.
“Oh, I don’t know?” He says, with a little smirk, “Why would I, a patient, want to flirt with the incredibly smart, beautiful doctor that’s helping me feel better?” He finishes, flashing her an obvious look. Mel’s entire neck and face blushes, and being the reason for it feels almost better than the dr- it just feels really good.
“But I’m working? I didn’t…I’ve never really realised.” She admits quietly, trying and failing to hide the smile on her face.
“Trust me, I know.” Frank lets slip. He catches her gaze, hesitant and cautious as she looks at him strangely. He doesn’t offer an explanation, and she doesn’t ask for one, but he’s one hundred per cent sure she’s catching onto something.
“I just find it strange. They must not be doing it obviously, like the way patients flirt with you.” She says, looking over her shoulder at the exit.
Frank’s entire body smiles. Mel doesn’t seem to realise what she’s confessed to, and he’s way too excited to tease her for it, so he just sits with the feeling for a bit.
“Lots of patients flirt with me, but they’re not my type.” He says off-handedly.
“What is your type?”
“Doctors.” He says quickly, revelling in the face Mel makes because she absolutely does not expect it.
“Didn’t Abby work in marketing?”
“And we’ll be divorced three years next month.”
Mel splashes a bit of water on his face.
Frank loves this, loves this back and forth with Mel. He’s a naturally charming person anyway, he admits wholeheartedly, but with Mel, fuck, it feels so good. It feels like being on drugs, but also feels the complete opposite. Knowing that he is completely sober, and she enjoys his company and wants to spend time with him and wants to get his opinion on cases and wants to break her kind bar in two so they can share, it somehow makes everything worth it.
And Frank’s not sure what conclusion he’s gotten to, but he can feel it on the tip of his tongue, and that’s good enough, so he wipes his face and grins, biting his lip. “I like you, Mel.”
Mel seems to be completely struck by this and cocks her head back with a strange sort of smile. “Not sure the feeling is as mutual right now, on account of my wet shoes.”
“And yet, you’re still here.” He beams.
He’s about to do something stupid; he knows it. He can feel it in my body before he feels it in his head, like when he threw himself and Mel into the pool. He reaches up and presses the pad of his thumb over the little beauty mark by her eye, wiping away a water droplet. Mel stays unbelievable still, eyes crossing slightly as he inches forward.
And then the door bursts open.
“Hey! You two!” A frumpy security guard rushes through the door just as Mel grabs his hand and pulls him to the edge. She jumps up effortlessly as if the force of gravity doesn’t apply to her and grabs hold of her glasses, shoes and phone all whilst Frank throws one leg up in a very uncoordinatedly attempt to pull himself out of the water.
He eventually gets up on his feet, grabs his own shit before racing after Mel. A haphazard excuse begins to form in his mind, but nothing feels airtight. It’s fine, it will come to him eventually, he hopes.
“This is a closed pool; you two could get into a lot of trouble!” The security guard spits at them, holding the flashlight against their faces.
“Officer, we’re so sorry. It’s my fault, honestly,” Mel starts, the tone of her voice changing altogether. Frank looks down at her quickly as their eyes meet in a simple follow my lead look. “We came up earlier, and I lost my ring in the pool. I only realised at dinner.”
The security guard suddenly flashes his torch in Frank’s face. “It was my grandmother’s,” He says and has to hide the smile on his face that appears when he realises in this fantasy he and Mel are married.
Mel doesn’t blink twice at the comment. “We were only in the pool for a minute, and luckily, I found it. I promise, we don’t want to get anyone in trouble. We’re doctors, here for the conference. I’m even a certified lifeguard, so we were extra careful! You understand, don’t you?” She says, tilting her head as she plays with the small silver braided ring she wears every day. Except instead of sitting on her middle finger, it miraculously moved to her ring finger.
The security guard’s eyes dart between both of them, and Frank makes sure to flash a sympathetic look. He eventually lowers the flashlight and turns it off. “Just, don’t do that again.”
“Oh, we’re leaving tomorrow, you don’t have to worry! Thank you, officer.” Mel says as the officer moves out of the way of the door. Mel grabs Frank’s wrist and pulls himself inside, and only lets go when they’ve turned the corner.
“That was incredible.” He says, breathlessly as they make their way down the hallway, water dripping from their clothes and hair.
“I’ve never done anything like that.” Mel rushes out, pressing her hand to her heart with an unsure smile. “My heart’s beating so fast.”
Frank stares in complete awe. “Mel.” He says, shaking his head fondly. He wishes he could say more, wishes he had something more coherent to say, but the only thing ringing inside his head and his heart is her name.
It’s only when they’re waiting for the elevator does Frank realise they’re completely soaked. Mel’s pencil skirt fails to hold its shape anymore, and the white shirt she’s wearing is almost completely see-through.
Her shirt is see-through.
Her shirt. Is see-through.
“What?” Mel asks as the elevator dings. The doors open, and Frank watches her step inside.
He swallows, voice coming out rougher than he’d like. “Er, your shirt, I can see your…” He points dumbly before Mel looks down.
“Oh,” She says quietly, pulling the shirt away from her skin. She drops the fabric, and it doesn’t really do much – Frank can still see the skin-coloured bra she’s wearing as he follows her in.
He kind of wishes he wasn’t like this, but there’s only Mel to blame, really. The elaborate lie, the mermaid hair, the touching of his underwear band that he’s probably going to think about in about 10 minutes when he’s in the shower. All Mel’s fault.
“Frank, you’re staring,” Mel says, and Frank’s head darts up to meet her gaze. Her cheeks are red, and her face contorts as if she’s trying to figure out what to think of it.
“Sorry.” He sighs as the elevator doors close, grinning stupidly.
But they both know he’s not. Not really.