Chapter Text
When the day shift invited Shen for drinks after finding out he wasn’t on schedule, he didn’t expect it to be this. No wonder Ellis told him she’d prefer to work. This somehow sucks.
The bar they picked is pretty nice, but it’s a Tuesday evening, so there are practically no drunks, no loud laughter, no glass clinking besides their own
As of now, they are in six. Langdon, Diaz — turns out they call him Mateo — Javadi, Santos, Whitaker, and himself. Diaz told him Donahue and King would still show up. He hopes they don’t submit themselves to this torture.
It’s not that these are plain people, or that it’s a bad place to meet. Bonding is important and stuff, he’ll drink to that. But the obvious elephant in the room isn’t leaving much space for anyone.
Does he know what it’s about? Not exactly. He’d guessed, and now he’s being proven right as the night goes by: Santos and Langdon. Clearly, in the little time they’ve worked together, something happened. And it must be awful, because even he noticed. When one of them spoke, the other would cut them off with a passive-aggressive comment or argue against what they said. The disagreement was funny for the first five minutes, now everyone is just avoiding them.
Or, well, was. Because then King arrived. And it got worse. She was barely given any time to say hello to everyone before the two of them started fighting like toddlers for her attention.
And now she’s stuck middling their topics, trying not to pick sides, yet remains oblivious to the flirting directed at her — from both ways. Langdon chats her up about cases he knows King finds interesting, keeps running his thumb along her shoulder, and blatantly stares at her lips. Isn’t Frank Married? Santos, on the other hand, engages with any topic King brings up, with a few light flirts and little touches. Didn’t she get caught with Garcia these last days?
He admits he was surprised. Not for more than a split second. It shifted to annoyance.
Shen wouldn’t mind watching them argue and compete out of pettiness for the whole night. He’d just chat with the newbies. But competing for a person in a romantic way? Look, Shen likes fucking around. Joking, pissing someone off, anything. He’s all for it. People are entertaining to him. But fucking with romantic feelings? Whoa, man. He has very well-established limits.
So he’s looking around. Engaging casually in the conversation, sure, but mainly focused on spotting what could pull her away from that back and forth. And lucky for him, there’s a perfect opportunity. Karaoke. No one’s using it, still early, everyone could pass as drunk — though he hasn’t had a single glass, he’s driving — and it’s demeaning in an enjoyable way.
He shifts back to Whitaker, Javadi, and Diaz. Nods towards the karaoke, gets met with excuses (They need to stay seated so Donahue finds the group. Bullshit, but he lets it slide. They just haven’t had enough liquid courage. Yet). Those aren’t unexpected. He hoped for them, even. Because now he gets a reasonable excuse to pull King away from whatever the hell’s going on with Langdon and Santos.
Places a hand on the bar counter, stands up. Stretches, turns to the other three. “Hey. Doctor King.”
The jolt sent through her almost makes him laugh. Her head snaps to him as if on common. She adjusts her glasses. The other two beside her also turn to him. “Yes? Ah, please. Just- just Mel is fine.”
“Mel. Dope. You know ABBA? Everyone knows ABBA, right?”
“The music group? I don’t know much about them. They’re from the 70s, I think?”
“Yeah. That’s them. Good, that’ll do. Help me hit it off then?”
Mel’s eyes widen. Langdon raises an eyebrow, Santos frowns. “I’m- I’m sorry?”
“Karaoke.”
“Mel isn’t a big fan of noise, in case you don’t know that.” Santos’ eyes narrow, and her voice is biting — Not that Shen cares. She, Mel, and Whitaker are all having the same drink. Their breaths smell the same, at least.
“Mel can also speak for herself, Santos,” Langdon flicked at her glass, scoffed when they made eye contact.
“I’m a big fan of karaoke, and Mel has a beautiful voice. I just thought we could work together,” he shrugs. “Plus, I’m sure she could use a break.” He points towards the ‘stage’ — a tiny screen for the lyrics, two colorful microphones, and a little station with the music options.
Did she have a beautiful voice? He hasn’t really noticed, but now he’s sure she does. Was he a big fan of karaoke? Not exactly, but from now on, he absolutely is. ABBA? Dancing Queen is the most generic song he could think of.
At some point in the past, maybe Shen would’ve cared about his reputation. It should’ve evolved into a barrier, especially now that he’s a doctor, but it didn’t. He can’t bring himself to care. He’s not a doctor tonight. Tonight, he’s nothing but a drunk at a bar, doing his best to ease some tension off a friend.
“Mel–” Both Santos and Langdon protest, then cut themselves off. More staring.
“Man,” Shen breaks the ice, slides his hands to his pockets. “She doesn’t have to do anything. I'm just asking, trynna cage this elephant.”
“I, uh. Actually, sounds- sounds good,” she nods to herself. Stands up. Santos offers her a hand to help, Langdon’s hand drifts to her hip, and Shen’s pretty sure that was a light squeeze. With the same hand he’s wearing his wedding band? Damn. Mel murmurs a ‘thank you’ to neither in particular.
Shen walks alongside her. Mel fiddles with the collar of the blouse she’s wearing. “I’m not sure I’m the best choice for karaoke. I’m not– I’m not good with lyrics.”
“I’m not good with them either. That’s the fun of it.”
“Oh. I thought you liked karaoke.”
“Never said I was good at it. Can’t win them all.”
Shen sets it up and offers Mel one of the microphones as the music starts playing. He can’t really read the lyrics, but it’s not like it’d help him either. He’ll just bullshit his way through this and hope it’s more funny than humiliating.
It’s exactly what he does. Works, somehow. Shen tells himself his performance made up for his shitty singing. He mumbled incoherently to the rhythm when he got lost, frowned at the small lyrics most of the way. They synced pretty well, though. They shared the choruses; sometimes he stopped in the middle and pretended he couldn’t read the screen just so Mel’s voice could be heard; he did the first part, she did the second.
It’s very much worth it. A few people are laughing, and Mel’s a bit flushed from light chuckles and from trying to follow the lyrics. Donahue whistles now that he’s there. His phone’s in hand — hopefully he hasn’t been recording for long. Shen bows in response, Mel copies after a second. He offers her a hand to help her get off the platform.
Her hands are soft. More than he thought they’d be. Did he think about it in the first place? Huh. I guess he did. Her nails are also painted. He doesn’t look down to take in the colour, but the texture of nail polish is easy to distinguish. Shen goes to step down. Doesn’t get to.
Maybe he dug himself a deeper hole by saying he liked karaoke. He had to do back-to-back songs with pretty much everyone.
He did ‘I want it that way’, ‘Should I stay or should I go’, ’Call me maybe’, and ‘Wannabe’ before finally getting a break.
He steps down from the platform, orders some water. Sits back where he was before. Javadi and Diaz are now picking a song. Donahue and Whitaker left the stools for a table just beside the bar and their talk is flowing pretty nicely. Also, Santos and Langdon are back in their dispute. Which is surprising, if he’s honest. They both participated in the karaoke — different songs, of course — and the tension eased up. That was the impression he got, at least, but how it didn’t is also understandable.
While one of them was having a go, the other flirted with Mel, who obliviously continued the conversation. Except now it's blatantly clear flirting and Mel's only acting like she doesn't notice, because Santos is somewhat drunk. Her tongue’s looser, and it’s a matter of time until she says something she shouldn’t. Trouble. Shen wants to leave before that happens. He also doesn’t want anyone to get involved and make the air between them thicker. Especially Mel, since she’s already involved.
Shen waves the bartender over for the bill and rounds up the tip to the next full number. Then he’s standing up again. A step towards the two men talking, and he leans against the bar counter.
“Think it’s gonna rain soon. Probably best to head home. Either of you need a ride?”
Whitaker shakes his head, rubs his thumbs together. “Ah, I’m leaving with Santos, and I think she’s, uh… Staying a bit longer.”
“Good luck with her,” Donahue chuckles. “I could use a ride, yeah.”
Shen nods, tilts his head to the side until he gets a satisfactory crack. Glances at Mateo and Javadi, who are singing some Britney Spears’ song he doesn’t remember the name of. “Think they’ll need one?”
Both of them follow his gaze. Donahue scrunches his nose and shakes his head, Whitaker shrugs. Looks like a no to him. Now, for the trickiest part. The other three. Slips his hand into his pockets, takes one, two steps towards them again. Not the best thing he’s seen — Santos’ running her fingers through Mel’s hair, Langdon’s got a hand on her thigh. “Any of you need a ride?”
“Oh. That would be–”
“I can drive you home, Mel,” Langdon lightly rubs his thumb against her skin, “just let me know when you wanna go, and we go.”
“Or she can crash with Whitaker and me since we have work tomorrow.”
“So what, she can treat your hangover?”
“Please, how about you, huh? Gonna introduce her to your wife? Did you tell her this is where you are tonight?”
“Don’t you bring Abby into this shit. Of course I fucking told her, what do you think I am?”
“You did, really? Did you also tell your wife about the medicine you–”
“Man, the weather, huh?” Shen offers a hand to Mel, who’s looking completely lost, and nods towards the exit. The other two also stop and stare. “You two take your time and wrap it up; I’ll drive her.”
Langdon leans closer to him. His grip on the counter is tight. “John, don’t you–”
“Ehh.” Shen shrugs, gestures vaguely. Mel does take his hand. Surprise crosses his mind, but doesn’t intervene in his body’s response; helping her stand up comes naturally.
“I- I wouldn’t want to bother anyone, but since Dr. Shen’s already giving a ride to, uh… Donnie, it should be less trouble, right?”
“Are you sure, Mel? I can put Whitaker on the couch… You can sleep at my place...”
“It’s- It’s fine, really. Becca’s probably waiting for me, too. I wouldn’t want her to stay up late.”
“Whatever you say, beautiful.” Shen didn’t expect Mel to freeze at that, but she did, so he didn’t look at her — in order not to embarrass her. Shen also acted oblivious to Langdon's staring. He slides his hands back into his pockets and signals to the door. “You good, Donahue?”
He turns his head, stands up. “Yep, good to go.” Pats Whitaker’s shoulder, follows to the exit.
The walk to Shen’s car is short, leads to nothing more than a quiet conversation. Definitely a more friendly one, without all the tension. He unlocks his car with the key fob — a 2015 white Toyota Prius he’s far too fond of. Mel insists Donahue should go in the front, yet he settles in the backseat without protest. She then ends up taking the passenger’s seat, with Shen opening the door from inside for her.
Dropping off Donahue doesn’t take long. It’s a 10-minute drive with instructions on how to get to his place and light talking. Shen prioritizes common topics that Mel can engage with.
“Dude, what’s with these cushions? You sleep here?”
“Whenever I don’t feel like driving after a shift.”
“Oh, uhm,” Mel shifts to look at the back, “That… Doesn’t look too comfortable.”
“It isn’t. But gets the job done, so.” Shen shrugs, takes a turn.
Donahue unbuckles the seatbelt and points. “My building’s that third one, I can walk there. Thanks, man.”
Shen pulls up, gives him a thumbs-up as he opens the door and steps out. Mel waves. If there’s any tension because it’s just the two of them, he doesn’t notice. Drums his fingers on the wheel for a second, then starts maneuvering in reverse.
“I’m- I’m not sure I’m good enough with directions to help you.”
“Don’t worry ‘bout it. I can probably get there with just the address.” He shifts the gear and gets back to driving. “But if you want me to set up Waze, I don't mind either.”
Mel seems to think for a second. Then shakes her head. “No, it’s- it’s fine.”
“Suit yourself.”
She stays quiet for the first minutes of the drive. Watching the roads, the landscape. Her eyes find the rearview mirror between them, and she tilts her head. Raises her hand and points. Lowers it, her gesture turns more vague. She clears her throat.
“What’s this?” Mel reaches for the hanging piece of rope.
“A dog toy.”
“Oh. You have a dog?”
“Mhm. Her name’s Pumpkin. She’s a retired K-9.”
“She must be old, then.”
“7. She retired last year due to some vision and hearing issues. I have to take her to the vet often, and she’s not a big fan of car rides. So I hung a toy to entertain her.”
“...Pumpkin sounds cute.”
"She’s set as my phone’s background if you wanna see her.” Shen nods to his phone, placed in the cup holder between them.
Hesitantly, she reaches for it. Tilts it and taps the screen. She giggles at the picture. Pumpkin’s snout is very close to the camera. She’s lying down, seemingly asleep. Shen’s jeans are somewhat visible from under her. Further away, there’s a table with a vase and a black smudge beside it.
“What's that?” Mel places her finger just below the blurry spot.
“That’s Jeff. Cat I got in an adoption event. I took that picture seconds before he broke my vase.”
“...So you have two pets.”
“Sounds about right.”
“I’ve never had one. I- Becca has pretty strong pet allergies, so we never got one. Becca- Becca’s my sister. And now that I’m not with her as much as before, if she got a bad reaction, it could get really bad, so– I’m- I’m sorry, I think I’m talking too much.”
“No, no. Keep going.”
“I- Uhm. The closest thing we had to a pet was a formicarium she worked with for a project presentation quite a few years ago. Becca really likes bugs. I got her a bee keychain once, and she still has it in her bag. She mentions it every time she picks it up for us to go out. She’s a big fan of painting, too. Butterflies, especially. I- I had to hire a part-time aide recently, Becca’s neurodivergent and needs assistance, and they always send me pictures of her works.”
“Becca likes paintings, Becca likes bugs. What do you like?”
“Me? Uhm. Uh. Reading’s… Nice. Music too, sometimes.”
“Was karaoke fun?”
“Yeah. I… It was. Thank you. For, uh. The ride. And the night. I don’t know why Langdon and Santos were so aggressive.”
“Shit happens,” he mumbles, pulling up, “but you’re here now. Home.”
“Oh!” She glances outside the window, then back at him. Tilts her head when she sees him unbuckling his own seatbelt, opening the car door, and stepping out. “I’m– Where are you going?”
Shen doesn’t answer. Crosses the car and opens the door for her. Mel blinks. Goes to stand up, gets tugged back by the seatbelt. Unfastens it, then gets out.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“Pfft. What kind of man do you think I am?” He closes the door behind her. “Doing the bare minimum here.”
Mel frowns. Stares at his face for a few seconds — uncomfortable, really. Then comes the sound of keys turning, and there’s a loud, dramatic gasp.
“Mel! You have a boyfriend!”
Shen can’t help but raise his eyebrows. Immediately? Wow. This is fun, actually. Mel faces who he thinks is her sister. They look pretty similar.
“Becca, it’s late. What are you still doing awake?”
“I was waiting for you! You didn’t tell me you found a boyfriend. Are you gonna kiss him goodbye?”
“This-” She turns her face to him. He raises his hands slightly in surrender. Mel turns back. “This is Doctor Shen, he’s a nightshift attending, not-”
“I can pretend I didn’t see you. I was just watching Elf. I’ll wait for you inside!"
“No, Becca, I’m not…” Mel sighs, watching her sister disappear from the front door. It closes shut. She glimpses back at Shen. “I’m- I’m so sorry.”
He slips his hands into his pockets. His signature smile comes naturally. “Isn’t she amusing.”
“...She is. Yep. I'm- I’m going inside now.” She points back to her place.
“Aight. Night, Dr. King.”
“Good- Good night, Dr. Shen.”
She goes to scurry inside, stops at the first step. Shen can’t tell what Mel mumbled to herself, but then she was turning back around and stalking toward him. And there was no time for him to react.
She cupped both his cheeks and pulled him down to crash against her lips. It wasn’t a good kiss, if he’s honest. Too aggressive, too sudden for him to really do anything. He blanked. Couldn’t even make out the taste of her lips. And when his mind clicked, she was pulling away and trudging inside her place.
He gapes at the door. Then blinks again after a moment and crosses to the other side of the car, getting into the driver’s seat. Snickers, starts the engine. “Jesus.”
Shen was only looking to set some decent standards for her. An enjoyable night without having to deal with other people’s problems. Perhaps he underestimated his own attractiveness — he snorts when he thinks about it. Got himself a kiss instead. And, what the hell, sure. It’s something he can work with. Mel’s interesting in an oblivious way, where she doesn’t realise it herself. Her little quirks are funny, comments are spot on. And beautiful is not up for discussion.
So fuck it. If there’s a chance she’s up to it, then Shen’s all in.