Chapter Text
Jack Abbot was trying, rather miserably, to date again.
It had been a while, and it seemed apparent that most of his charm had worn off. His meager attempts to get Samira to notice him had failed, and he felt like a teenage boy in high school all over again. Something about seeing her every day, radiant as ever, and just as ignorant to his own stupid little crush, rubbed salt into the wound.
This date, in particular, wasn’t any better.
It was a woman that Robby knew, and thought might be a good fit for him. Boy, was he never taking Robby’s advice again. Every joke he attempted flopped, and every polite conversation felt fatiguing to keep alive. She had left as soon as the check was paid, and Abbot sat there for a moment, downing the rest of his wine.
He took the moment to glance around the rest of the place—the restaurant was nicer, so plenty of couples were juxtaposed with the gaudy scenery. They all seemed more successful than he was tonight, at least. One couple in particular, a few tables away, were leaned in to each other, as if the table was a barrier that they physiologically had to encroach on, just to see each other’s faces clearer.
Wait. Was that?
No.
“Oh my god it is!” Abbot exclaimed to himself, abruptly standing up from the table. He knocked his fork off the table, making a distinct clatter on the hardwood floors, but he was preoccupied. He sauntered over to the table, prideful with the fact that he had just learned some juicy office gossip. Princess and Perlah owed him for this.
“Dr. King and Dr. Langdon,” he said, arriving at the table with a cocky grin. Both of them looked up, lingering smiles across their faces. “What a pleasure it is to see you both here!”
“Dr. Abbot!” Mel said, a polite expression across her face. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”
“Oh, well, I was just on a date myself, as you two must be. Mine clearly did not go that well, though. Bet the chemistry flows better when you work together each day.”
Langdon’s jaw tightened a little, and Mel averted both their gazes, studying her half-eaten plate instead. Abbot could be so blunt that it was actually painful. “That’s kind,” Langdon finally said, stealing a glance at Mel, “but we’re not on a date.”
“That’s what it looks like to me.”
Mel coughed dryly.
“I see what you mean,” Langdon said, obviously offput, “but we’re just getting dinner together. It’s one of our favorite spots.” He scratched at the back of his neck, a nervous tick.
Mel nodded profusely in agreement. It was glaringly romantic, their “favorite spot,” Abbot thought, but he kept that to himself.
“Sure,” Abbot said, backing down after looking between the two of them. “Of course. Well, I don't want to bother you any longer. See you at work Monday.”
“Seeya man,” Langdon said, his shoulders finally loosening up, before turning back to Mel, warmth flooding his eyes.
Sure , Abbot thought, walking away from them. They aren’t dating.
With the way he looked at her? The way he laughed at her jokes like he never heard anything funny before? The way they looked at each other? How Mel would only accept touch initiated by him, and flinch at anyone else? They were practically magnetized, sticking to each other's hip at any case they could get their hands on. Langdon had knocked into multiple patient beds because he would keep turning around mid stride to talk to Mel. And the way a bright red blush had painted its way across Mel’s face when Abbot insinuated it was a date?
Sure.