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Frank has played more games of tag in his life than he can count.
There was that game of phone tag he’d played his senior year of undergrad; missing calls from the UVA med school offering him admission and then getting sent to voicemail whenever he tried to return them between work and classes and the general craziness of life. In the end it’d been worth it though, getting to hear the dean of admissions congratulating him on his success and offering him a place in their class.
Of course, he can’t forget the literal tag he’d played near daily with his kids during the weeks he’d waited between finishing rehab and his grand return to PTMC. The two small beings who rely on him for total support, running in circles around the backyard, squealing as they tried to outrun their dad. Frank, because he was a loving father first but a competitive asshole second, let them win the first few rounds before showing them just what kind of speed the Langdons had going for them.
And of course, he can’t forget the tag he’d seen his own lawyer play with Abby’s recently, trading barbs across the long oak table as they’d settled custody arrangements and finances and assets. It wasn’t true tag, sure, but Frank had always walked out of those long meetings feeling like he’d just run for his life. It’d been worth it, though, the day he got to take that ring off for good.
Regardless, the point is, no matter what kind of tag it was, he always won in the end.
Today, his odds look even better, with his sneakers double knotted and his Red Bull giving him as close to wings as humanly possible. He’s ready for the challenge.
He’s never played at work, never chased a coworker around what feels like every square inch of the hospital, until now. Because now he’s finding out that Melissa King must have taken up jogging in whatever spare time she has that doesn’t involve work, or hanging out with Becca, or letting him all but trail her like a dog on errands or appointments or walks around the park.
He thought he was ready for the challenge.
But that’s all changing, because he’s pretty sure now, as the late December rain falls in sheets outside and the heating finally kicks on in a rattle-shake through the vents, that Mel wants to play and she’s playing to win. Whether she knows it or not, well, that he’s not sure about.
He’s rounding corners like a mad man, eyes searching for the pale purple scrub shirt he knows Mel is sporting today, when he spots the woman who knows everything that happens under the hospital’s roof.
“Hey Dana, have you seen Mel?” he calls to the charge nurse stationed at central, bracing his hands on the nursing station and leaning his body across the counter.
Dana just eyes him behind her glasses, a small smirk growing on her lips as she says, “Can’t say I have, kid. But I’m sure she’ll turn up. We’re slammed today; I can’t have one of our residents disappearing.”
“Right, yeah,” he says, drumming his fingers on the desk’s edge before turning around and craning his neck around the department, hoping to catch a glimpse of his missing resident.
“Looks like she might be with Donnie in North 7,” Dana says after a minute, eyes trained on the board that’s just updated. “Facial lac.”
Frank’s pushing off the desk, quick “Thanks Dana” yelled over his shoulder as he shuffles in what he hopes is a calm, cool, and collected fashion towards the room in question.
But when he comes to knock on the door, the half-formed excuse he’d been working on as to why another doctor would be joining the party for a minor cut falls dead on his lips as he pushes the door open and finds only Donnie, hands stilling over the patient's cheek from where he’d been suturing.
“Frank, what can I do for you, man?” Donnie asks, resuming the task at hand when he deems whatever Frank’s interrupting him for is not an emergency.
Frank feels his lips form a half smile at the elderly lady sitting under Donnie’s hands, nodding his head briefly in apology for barging in on her before telling Donnie, “Sorry, uh, have you seen Dr. King? The board has her as in here with you and I can’t find her anywhere.”
He can see Donnie smirk, and if Frank was a betting man, he’d almost be willing to wager that the nurse practitioner in front of him had been waiting for the fourth-year resident to materialize.
“You just missed her. She did the initial assessment then handed over the reins to me. Figured we didn’t need us both on a minor case like this when the waiting room is overflowing,” Donnie pauses for a moment as though he’s realizing how his words sound and catching the eyes of the woman in the chair and clarifying, “That’s a good thing, that you don’t need us both.”
Frank doesn’t wait to hear the rest of the exchange, just taps on the doorframe in what he hopes comes across as thanks and shuts it behind him. Once it’s closed, he leans his back against the wood, scanning the department for his next lead.
The tell-tale squeak of the wheelchair gets too close before he can run.
“Hey there, stud muffin. Come here often?” the voice asks.
Frank groans, “Myrna, how many times have I told you to please not call me that. It’s Dr. Langdon. Fuck, I’ll even take Mr. Langdon, just…not that.” He shakes his hands in front of him for emphasis.
His minor outburst doesn’t deter Myrna in the slightest, in fact it only encourages her.
“A little birdy told me you were looking for a certain blonde doctor,” she starts and Frank stands a bit straighter, hating himself for perking up at Myrna’s words.
“I might be willing to offer some information…if you’ve got a key to help me out here…love muffin,” she adds with a wink.
It’s a testament to how much he wants to find Mel; is desperate to find Mel that he considers her offer.
“Why are you locked to your chair again?” he asks, as though her answer will sway him into considering, and completely ignoring his new nickname.
Myrna brightens at that. “Does it matter? I’ve got what you want and you have what I want. What’s a little exchange between friends?”
But Frank can’t get much further into truly contemplating just how bad letting Myrna go would be, because Whitaker is rounding the corner, hands thrown in the air in exasperation as he spots the woman.
“Myrna! You can’t just wheel yourself away from me when I turn around for one minute! This is an emergency room, I can’t have you rolling into patients’ rooms.” Whitaker shoots Frank a look that says are you seeing this? and grabs the handles to wheel Myrna away.
Myrna only winks at him again as she goes.
Minorly disappointed at this new dead end, Frank finally kicks off the wall, hands shoved into his pockets as he makes his way around the floor.
The thing is, this whole game of tag wouldn’t have been necessary if Mel had just stopped and listened to him. He’d tried earlier, at the moment of impact, reaching out to grab her wrist as her eyes went wide and she’d nearly thrown herself out of the break room and into the throng of chaos in the department.
In the months they’ve been friends, best friends, they’ve never gone this long without speaking on a shift. Even the time when Mel spilt a hot coffee down his front, they’d had all of a minute of silence before he’d brushed it off and donned new scrubs.
He recalls that first shift, the very first one they worked together, often. The way he’d taken her under his wing from hour one. He’d never been one to want to teach, not in a way that really mattered, but with Mel it was different. It was as though his entire being had softened at the bright eyed second-year resident as he watched her hands shake while she’d sewn in stitches after her successful crike.
And while they’d never really talked about it, Frank thinks Mel had felt the same in that moment. He knows she’s an open book, always willing to say what’s on her mind, but he’s come to realize that only really applies to him. She doesn’t seek out advice or comfort from their coworkers, offers only handshakes or high-fives after a case well-done, and only gives pats on the back to distressed patients or family members on the occasion when it’s necessary.
But with him, well, it’s always been different.
His first day back he’d been expecting her to greet him with a smile, if she remembered him at all. He knew she’d be kind, welcoming, but he hadn’t expected her to fully launch herself at him in front of not just their coworkers, but patients alike.
He’d been shocked, unsure what to do with his hands and arms and body and his moment of hesitation had made her stumble, curling her hands in on herself and looking to the floor as though she’d done something wrong before turning and running.
The day had turned to chaos shortly after, typical with the Fourth of July, and it hadn’t been until later when he could get a moment with her. As it happened, it’d been smack dab in the middle of central when he’d spotted her. He hadn’t even thought about what he was doing before he’d crossed the floor, grabbed the chart from her hands, smacked it down onto the counter and pulled her in for the hug she’d deserved.
(He hadn’t let himself think too much about the way his arms covered her completely; didn’t let himself notice the way the top of her head just barely brushed his collarbones. He’d saved all that until later, when he could be alone).
She’d stumbled out of that hug, face red and glasses a bit crooked but beaming as she’d said, “Welcome back, Dr. Langdon! I missed you around here.”
He’d looked right back at her, his expression matching her own, and said, “I could say the same about you, Dr. King.”
And, well, they’d been inseparable ever since.
Now, he’s considering asking Dana to send out an all-floor page for her, but a voice calling from a room just to his left stops him.
Louie, admitted that morning for chest pain, and Frank had seen the cycle of nurses and doctors who’d come to check on him over the hours.
They’d long since set everything straight on his first shift back. He’d apologized to the man, tears behind his eyes as he’d stumbled his way through it. Louie had just looked at him, no trace of pity or anger on his face as he’d said, “My boy, we all make mistakes in this life. What’s important is that we don’t let them define us.”
If Frank had to take twenty minutes to sob in the empty stairwell after that interaction, well, that was between him and the PTMC security cameras.
Today, though, seeing Louie just makes him concerned in the same way he’d be if it was his grandpa in that bed.
“Dr. Langdon, you got a minute?” he asks, voice raised a bit to reach him.
“For you Louie, I’ve got several,” Frank replied, closing the door to his room as he entered.
They exchange small talk for a moment; Frank asking how he’s feeling, Louie joking that he’s getting real sick of being PTMC’s most loyal patient and asking if he got a discount for his patronage. After a minute, Louie starts pestering him about something else.
“Now, you know as well as I do that these walls talk,” he starts, looking at Frank a bit mischievously as he circles a finger in the air to emphasize his point. “So, what’s this I hear about you searching high and low for Dr. King?”
Frank opens and closes his mouth a few times, ears going red as he realizes, for the first time all day, how obvious his little quest of the day has been.
“I, uh, didn’t realize I was being so noticeable,” he says, dragging a hand down his face, to which Louie laughs. “We had a little bit of a…misunderstanding this morning, I guess you could call it. She said something, I reacted badly or I guess not at all, and now she’s avoiding me. I feel like I’m playing a game of tag trying to get to her.”
Louie ponders this for a moment and at the older man's next words, Frank wonders if the man before him is something like a psychic because he has never, not once, uttered the words aloud to anyone. Not even to his therapist.
“Yes, well, the women we love do tend to keep us on our toes,” Louie says with a knowing smile.
As stunned as he may be, Frank doesn’t bother denying it, just coughs a bit to give his mouth something to do as he chooses his next words.
“Dr. King is awfully good at hiding, as I’m finding out. I didn’t realize there were that many places to hide in this hospital anyway,” he says, taking a moment to consider tacking on the next sentence. “But it’s worth it, she’s worth it.”
Louie reaches out a hand at that, clasping his hand in his own and giving it a bit of a shake.
“I was with my Donna for fifty years, can you believe it? She had me chasing her all over the place when we were young. Never had a dull day with her in it.” He pauses, looking down at Frank’s left hand and the obvious missing ring that Frank knows he’d clocked before on one of his earlier visits. “Just because things don’t work out the first time, doesn’t mean you won’t get it right the second go around.”
Frank stays with Louie for a few more moments, letting him talk about his upcoming holiday plans before parting ways, promising he’ll come by the check on him when he gets moved upstairs.
It’s nearing the end of shift and with no sign of Mel anywhere on the floor, Frank resigns himself to his last resort. It’s not that they don’t talk regularly, because they do. He keeps up their daily cup-pong challenge and sends along cute baby panda videos whenever he stumbles upon them.
It’s just that, well, he knows he’s really, truly, ready to admit defeat when he finally fishes his phone out of his pocket, head resting on his locker and dials Becca King.
“Pick up, pick up, pick up,” he’s muttering down the line, tapping an incessant pattern into the metal with free hand.
The line goes to voicemail after what feels like forever and Frank is cursing under his breath. He half debates calling back and leaving what he’ll strive to make sound not like a cause-for-concern voicemail, but it’s only a moment later that Frank remembers it’s Monday and Becca is nothing if not loyal to the center’s weekly paint by the number night that is likely in full swing by now.
“Hey, Romeo,” Santos calls from the locker room, and Frank doesn’t even want to know how long she’s been standing there watching him stalling his post-shift routine of a quick shower, changing, and driving Mel home by desperately calling Becca like it’swhat he always does after shift. Like he isn’t a walking ball of misery.
When he turns to look at Santos from where she stands at the double doors at the end of the hall, she’s got a glint in her eye. “She told me she was heading to the roof not too long again.” She pauses to check her watch before continuing, “Bet if you run you can catch her.”
And then Trinity Santos, Frank’s new fourth favorite person in the world after his kids and Mel, is pushing backwards into the doors and heading out of sight.
“The roof?” Frank mutters under his breath, rooted to his spot for a moment before his legs and brain kick into action.
The laugh at his own stupidity works its way out of his throat before he can help it, coming loose from where it’d been lodged in his sternum. He’s at the elevators before he knows it, slamming his thumb into ROOF in rapid succession before the doors finally close.
He’s not sure how it took him so long to realize, not when he’s spent all day chasing Mel around their workplace; just missing her as she ducked in and out of rooms and out of his reach.
As the elevator ascends, he finally remembers the conversation on her couch only days ago. They’d been sitting with Becca during the weekly Friday King Sister & Frank Movie Night, High School Musical 3 playing on the TV. Becca had gotten up to make more popcorn only, leaving the scene paused where Troy and Gabriella had just shared a near-kiss in the rain.
Mel’s eyes had gone a bit fond at the scene, heading falling sideways as she’d studied the pixels and Frank had nudged her thigh with his socked foot from where he’d been sprawled out next to her.
“Where’d you go, Mel?” he’d asked, eyes flicking between the soft look on the blonde’s face and the frozen image on the screen.
Mel had sighed, turning the faintest shade of red as she’d said, “It’s so stupid,” to which Frank had cut her off with a “no it isn’t” before even hearing what was about to leave her lips. Mel had just shaken her head on a laugh before continuing, “No, really it is. But ever since I first saw this movie when I was thirteen? I think? I’ve always wanted to know what it would feel like. A kiss in the rain. Something tells me I might hate it, too much going on at once, but I don’t know.”
She turns to face him then, “A kiss in the rain with my best friend, I’ve always wanted that.”
Frank hadn’t taken his eyes off her as she’d said the words, but Mel’s gaze hadn’t lingered after the admission slipped out, instead turning her head back to the TV and barely breathing until Becca had re-entered the room.
Now, as the elevator pings its arrival at the roof level, it all suddenly makes sense.
A kiss with her best friend in the rain, just like the hint she’d given him this morning. The same one he hadn’t clocked for what it was until now.
“Forecast says rain all day,” she’d whispered as they’d sat in his car twenty minutes before they were due in. They’d been sharing a bagel between them and Frank had pretended that he wasn’t taking purposeful bites on his turn in the same place where Mel had just left teeth marks in the dough.
She’d been looking at him the whole drive over, had even reached out to grab his hand across the console at one point.
They’d been dancing around their feelings for a while now, growing closer and closer and crossing every platonic-best-friend boundary in the months since Frank had returned. The touching, though, had started in early August, when his ring had finally come off for good.
“Hmmm, yeah, what’s that quote again? Something about learning to dance in the rain?” He’d responded, peering out of his windshield at the buckets of water pouring down around them.
Mel had sucked in a breath at that, “Yeah, something like that.”
They hadn’t talked about it again, not until Mel had promptly shot back from the break room table at their early lunch after asking if he wanted to take a trip up to the roof after their shift ended and he’d responded with a blink and a “won’t we get soaked.” Frank hadn’t realized at the time, the deeper meaning of her words, the implication from his non-response, and how she must’ve taken it.
He hadn’t understood what had caused her to avoid him so wholly all day until Trinity fucking Santos had spelled it out for him.
He’s only kicking himself majorly now.
Frank throws open the emergency exit door, bringing a hand up to shield his eyes as he all but throws himself out into the ice-cold rain looking for the woman he hopes is still up there. It’s a shock to his system, pelts of water feeling like those slap-stick bracelets his brothers used to whack him with when he was younger clinging to his skin and scrubs but he’s too focused on his mission to care.
“Mel? Mel are you up here?” He calls, eyes blinking rapidly as they adjust to the new onslaught of water and darkness, only the flood lights providing an orange-golden hue.
He doesn’t see her and his heart rate picks up at the thought that he’s missed her, again.
Because that’s the thing really, he doesn’t want to keep missing her. He wants to find her and keep her.
“Over here!” A voice calls, closer to the blocks of A/C and heating units that are lined along the edge of the roof and Frank’s moving before he knows it.
As he gets closer, he can see just how soaked to the bone she is, hair loose from its braid and hanging around her face. Her cheeks and nose are red from the cold and she’s hopping from one foot to another slightly, as though she’s trying to keep herself from freezing.
When he’s finally within arm’s reach, it dawns on him that Mel’s speaking, lips forming words and syllables as he gets closer but he can only catch bits and pieces of “I’m so sorry if I made things weird” and “I completely understand if you don’t feel the same” before he’s properly in front of her, grabbing her by the waist and dragging his lips down to hers.
He feels her gasp into his mouth, feels her step a bit on the front of his shoes as she balances on her tiptoes to close the difference in height between them. Against him, he can tell the moment that she realizes what’s happening, as her body goes from ramrod straight to melting against him. Or well, as much as she can considering he’s nearly holding her up to him.
She pulls away for a breath a moment later, eyes searching his from behind her rain-speckled glasses. She’s sunk back down from where she’d been standing on her toes, and as much as Frank loves how much smaller she is than him on a normal day; how much he loves having to work to get her to look at him, right now he needs them eye to eye for the conversation that’s long overdue.
Bracing his back and legs, he grabs her under her thighs and deposits her easily onto the top of the metal unit behind her. He can see her face clearly now, her expression of nerves as she worries her bottom lip between her teeth.
He waits for her to speak, feels a shiver run through her and he curses internally at the fact he’d left her alone up here for so long, freezing and wet in nothing more than her scrubs. He runs his hands up and down her arms in an effort to bring some semblance of heat to her system.
“Frank…” she starts, voice careful and treading and a bit shy, “What was that? I mean, I know what I said…about being kissed in the rain. But, I… I don’t want you to just have done that if you don’t feel the same way.”
Frank can feel himself start to protest, but Mel brings a hand to cover his mouth so she can continue uninterrupted.
“You’re my best friend, Frank. The one person in my life who looked at me and didn’t ignore me and wanted to know me. And that means so much to me, more than you probably will ever know,” she pauses for a sniff, barely audible over the pouring rain but Frank thinks he’d hear a single sigh from Mel across oceans. “I want to tell you, I need to tell you, but I won’t say it if it’ll ruin everything. If you don’t feel the same.”
Frank can feel himself smiling behind her hand, a big goofy one that he knows is going to overtake his whole face. He leans forward, taking her hand away from his lips and pressing kisses up her wrist as he says, “Say it, sweetheart. I’ll be right behind you, just like always.”
Mel’s breath hitches and on an exhale, she admits, “I’m in love with you.”
She’s watching him, eyes tracking every movement of his face as the words register.
“Mel,” he exhales, “How could I ever not want to know you? From that very first hour, that very first shift, it was like you’ve been imprinted on my soul. It sounds fucking corny as hell, but it was like I’d been searching for you everywhere and then suddenly there you were. It was so easy, working with you, talking with you, laughing with you. That day was such a fucking shit show for a million reasons, but I’d live it all over again knowing it brought me you.”
He brings a hand up to cup her jaw, wiping maybe tears, maybe rain from under the rim of her glasses.
“You’re my best friend too, the brightest part of my days and sometimes when I look at you it feels as though someone dug around in my mind and made you just for me. How could I not love you? How could I not fall in love with you? Because I am, Mel, completely, unbelievably and undeniably in love with you,” he whispers, letting the words settle between them.
She’s smiling something big now and Frank can feel the muscles under the skin of her cheek pulling as it only grows.
Frank leans in again, kissing her slower this time, savoring the way her lips feel on his. He knows there’s time for him to commit her to memory, but for now he settles with slipping his tongue between the seam of her lips to taste her, desperate to do so after so many months.
And besides, he’s got a Disney Channel Original Movie to compete with.
They stay like that for a long moment, breathing one another in and moving in sync before Mel has to pull away, giddy laugh overtaking her.
“What happens now?” she asks, resting her forehead against his own. He can hear the smile in her voice, the happiness that bleeds into her words.
“Well, first we’ve gotta get out of these wet clothes.” He pauses with a wink, pressing a kiss to her cheek as she gasps. “Preferably somewhere that isn’t anywhere near a single one of our coworkers and preferably somewhere where I won’t get a public nudity charge.”
She hums at that, happy, bringing her hands up to curl in the back of his hair.
“But then,” he continues “I think we get to figure the rest out together, yeah? I love you and you love me. That’s the beginning and end of everything as far as I’m concerned. How’s that sound?”
It’s Mel’s turn to press a kiss to his skin now, warm lips a stark contrast to the freezing rain still falling around them as she lets them linger on the corner of his mouth.
“It sounds perfect. It sounds like a dream.”