Chapter Text
i think i'm falling
i'm falling for you
You finally open your locker after what feels like the longest shift of your life.
Today, the emergency department was especially busy, for no particular reason other than to absolutely wreck you and the 4 hours of sleep you were able to scrounge up last night. Even in the comfort of your own apartment, your thoughts refuse to settle. The rush of working in such a fast-paced environment has been weighing on you more than usual lately.
It doesn’t make sense, somehow you come to work and feel more relaxed than you do at home.
You’ve talked to Dr. Robby about it, well, talked is one way to put it. He practically cornered you last week when you were sulking by the nurses' station, arms folded tight and eyes glued to the floor. What followed was a surprisingly long lecture about taking care of yourself and the dangers of allowing your exhaustion to become routine.
The moral of the story is: even though you feel relaxed at work, people can still see your fatigue.
Which is just wonderful, really.
You get brought back to reality when the locker next to yours clicks open. Mel stands there, looking equally as drained, while she rummages around for her things. “Good shift?” she asks as she finally locates her car keys from the top of her locker.
You take a deep breath, your shoulders losing some of their tension, “Long shift,” you say softly.
Mel lets out a soft laugh of agreement, “You could say that again. I was working with this one patient for like half the day, he kept mumbling things about his broken glasses, which he wasn’t wearing by the way, so we’re not even sure they exist, and oh my god it was actually kind of funny! But yeah, that’s all my excitement, really, pretty boring day for me, but I guess the rest of the department was in shambles,” she rambles as she slips her coat on.
You and Mel have been friends ever since you both were placed in The Pitt for medical rotations. It was a pretty immediate friendship, but for whatever reason, it never seemed to extend outside the hospital walls.
You’d text occasionally about things, but conversation was always short, fizzling out with nothing more to say. Maybe being work friends was the extent of your friendship.
Mel’s ramble put a smile on your face as you lean against your own locker, watching fondly as she struggles to zip up her jacket, leftover energy radiating off her. But that was always Mel, finding the light on even the darkest days.
“That does sound exciting,” you tease, nudging her shoulder as she closes her locker.
Mel rolls her eyes at your teasing, something that has started to become more frequent. She likes the dynamic the two of you share, something between friends and some other feeling she hasn’t been able to name yet. Whatever it might be, it’s something she holds onto.
The medical field hasn’t shown any mercy to Mel. She’s been put through it, The Pitt sharpening her more than ever.
You’ve seen Mel after traumas that didn’t end well, her hands shaking, not enough for anyone to really notice, but you do. You’ve seen her swallow down frustration when patients comment on her ability to perform medicine, barking orders, and insults. Yet through all that, you’ve never seen Mel complain. She pushes through it; she keeps going.
But she sees you the same way you see her.
She notices when your fingernails dig crescent-shaped indents in your palms. Or when your smile appears just a few seconds too late, forced upon your lips. She sees the hollowing of your eyes as you walk in to start to shift, how your shoulders sag ever so slightly.
She notices all the signs because they mirror her own.
And she likes that, she likes knowing she’s not alone, that she has you.
Mel grins as she nudges you back, “Oh, it was thrilling, but I did notice that you had quite the eventful day,” she mentions.
Because yes, Mel likes to watch you sometimes. But not in a creepy way, she just likes knowing you’re with her in the chaos of the emergency department.
She only does it because you’re her friend. That’s the only reason.
…Right?
“God, yeah. I think today took years off my life,” you groan softly as you start walking out of the locker area and through the back door.
Mel huffs out a laugh at your response, that sound being the most enjoyable thing you’ve heard all day. “Oh, really? Only years? That’s so optimistic of you,” she grins, tugging her backpack up higher on her shoulder.
You bite your tongue, lips curving in a smile as Mel pushes open the metal door and steps outside. The cool night air brushes against your skin, the sensation immediately awakening something inside you. You can hear honking horns and car alarms in the distance, sounding somewhat more enjoyable than the beeping monitors you were surrounded by for the last twelve hours.
Mel glances over at you, not starting, just watching. Noticing.
Her eyes trail across the curve of your smile all the way down to the way your hands rest easily at your sides, finally uncurled.
You look over at Mel, noticing how her eyes drift over you with both precision and some sort of softness. Suddenly becoming oddly self-conscious, you clear your throat.
Mel jumps at the sound, her gaze shooting back up to meet yours. “Oh, um, sorry. I uh, got distracted,” she stumbles over her words.
Your smile tugs at the edges of your lips, “Distracted, huh?” You tilt your head as you look up at her, waiting for a reply. Within seconds, Mel’s cheeks flush with a pink tint, her head shaking.
“Oh, that’s not what I… not that you’re distracting! Well, you are I guess, but it’s not an issue, it’s just… I’ll shut up,” she murmurs, one hand coming up to adjust her glasses.
This isn’t the first time Mel has caught herself in the middle of one of these rambling sessions. They happen quite frequently: Mel saying something, Mel trying to fix what she said, and then Mel eventually just giving up. You hate how much you enjoy it.
“No, no, don’t shut up, that was cute,” you grin.
The word leaves your mouth before you can stop it.
Mel freezes, like, actually physically freezes. Her fingers that were once toying with the frames of her glasses are now completely stationary, her eyes widening behind the lenses. “Cute?” she asks softly, as if the word might turn around and bite her.
The sounds of the city turn into a distant hum as the air suddenly feels charged with something you can’t quite describe. You hold your breath. Mel swallows.
“Well, uh, I should probably head home,” you break the silence, quickly recovering and finally inhaling some of the cool air. You brush a strand of hair off your forehead, straightening up as you try to ground yourself on the pavement beneath your feet.
“Yeah, I should… I should probably head back, too,” Mel agrees. “Where’d you park?” she asks you, fiddling with one of the charms on her keys.
“Oh,” you sigh. “Well, I’ve been taking the bus, my car’s in the shop for the next week,” you admit, though it’s not that big of a deal to you. As long as you make it to work on time, your mode of transportation has no impact on your mood.
However, it causes Mel’s brows to furrow. “You’re… you’re taking the bus?” she asks, as if it’s the most insane thing she’s ever heard.
“Yeah, it’s actually not that bad—”
“I’ll drive you home,” Mel cuts in, her words firm.
She’s not sure why she offers you a ride, but she doesn’t regret it. Not one bit. The thought of you taking the bus home alone simply twists her stomach in a knot. She knows you’re perfectly capable of navigating the system by yourself, but she can’t help it.
She wants to drive you home.
“Oh, Mel, you don’t have to do that, really, it’s not a big deal,” you shake your head, politely swerving around her invitation.
“No, I mean it. I’ll drive you home, I don’t mind,” she persists.
You quickly try to think of a reasonable excuse for why you can’t, for why you shouldn’t, but you come up with nothing.
“Are you sure? I mean it, if it’s out of the way, you don’t have—”
“I want to drive you home,” Mel says, her voice now slightly more serious. “I’d rather have you in my passenger seat than on the dirty bus,” she explains, her eyes locked onto yours.
You nod, not really knowing what else to say. “Yeah, yeah okay,” you finally give in. “I’ll have to make it up to you, though,” you allow your lips to curve into a smile.
“Don’t worry, your company will be more than enough,” Mel says automatically, then pauses. You can tell she’s about to start rambling again, the way her eyes frantically find the ground.
“Thank you,” you allow your voice to interrupt her thoughts before they can spiral. “I mean it, thank you.”
For a second, some version of comfortable silence settles between you. Mel looks back up to meet your eyes, her expression softer now. You can tell she’s struggling to come up with words, but she ultimately settles on “Okay then, perfect, let’s go then, shall we?”
Your expression warms at the hesitation in her voice, the way her fingers are back to fidgeting with one of the many keychains connected to her car keys.
Mel looks out to the parking lot, “I um, I parked right over there,” she points. “Yeah, we can just… yeah let’s just go,” she rambles out, her body clearly filled with nerves. Though you can’t really imagine why.
Well, yes, you suppose this is the first time you’ve technically hung out after work. But you don’t see the big deal in that, you and Whitaker hang out all the time. Well, not all the time… he’s been pretty busy with a special someone recently. Which is something else entirely, and something you definitely don’t want to think about right now.
That’s all this is, just a friendly gesture from a coworker.
When you finally make it to Mel’s car, you pause in front of the passenger's side as Mel clicks the fob of her keys, the car’s headlights blinking to life. You’re about to reach for the door handle when you hear Mel’s voice, “Oh, wait!”
She scrambles around the car to where you stand, hand clasping around the handle of the passenger side, before you can attempt to grab it yourself. Mel swiftly opens the door for you, one arm outstretched as if to politely usher you inside. The gesture is quick and frankly quite sweet; you’re already climbing into the car before Mel can even process what the situation might look like from an outsider’s perspective.
Once you’re settled and are about to thank her, Mel shuts the door, her anxiety at an all-time high as she rushes around to the driver's side, opens the door, and gets inside next to you.
You let out a soft laugh as you gently poke her shoulder. “Mel, calm down, that was sweet,” you assure her.
However, your gentle reassurance doesn’t seem like enough to settle the storm raging in Mel’s stomach. Her hands fumble with her keys as she tries to slot them into the ignition, failing a few times before they finally slide in and the car roars to life. Her hands start adjusting just about every possible control within reach—the mirrors, air conditioning, steering wheel—as she tries to find a place for her nervous energy.
“Mel,” you say, watching her. When she doesn’t seem to pick up on the sound of your voice, you try again. “Mel, hey, it’s okay,” you try to interrupt her thoughts, but it’s no use.
It’s only when you reach out and still her hands—fingers closing gently around her wrist—that she finally stops moving. “Mel,” her name softly leaves your lips.
She blinks, her head turning to face you as her arm goes limp beneath your fingertips. “Hey, I promise you, it’s okay. This is okay,” you use your free hand to gesture around the car and the charged air between you both.
Finally, your words seem to cut through all the noise in her head.
“Oh,” she murmurs. But she’s not looking at you; she’s looking at her wrist, where your skin meets hers. You watch as she takes a breath, and following her gaze, you quickly let go of her arm. Your hand retreats back to your lap, fingertips on fire.
“I just, I tend to overthink… you know, when I do things. I guess I just, I don’t know,” Mel trails off, still gathering her thoughts. “You’re the first person… the first person I feel like I can’t lose,” she whispers.
Mel has said a lot of things tonight, but it somehow feels like the realest thing she’s ever said.
You don’t respond immediately; not because you don’t want to, but because you want to make sure you understand her. You replay her words in your head, the first person I feel like I can’t lose.
A thousand thoughts fill your head, a thousand different ways to interpret her words. You know Mel well enough to know that she means every syllable that leaves her lips. “You won’t lose me, I can promise you that.” The words feel heavy, but they feel right.
Mel’s features soften slightly, her mouth falling open.
Instead of letting her think it over, you continue. “I know we don’t know everything about each other, I mean, we really only talk at work. But I want to know more about you, Mel. I want to be your friend,” you pause. “So don’t overthink this, just let it happen.”
For a moment, Mel just stares at you, like she’s trying to decide whether she heard you right—or whether this is one of those moments her brain will later accuse her of inventing.
But soon enough, she smiles. “I think I’d like that.”
You return the smile, “Perfect, so this means no more overthinking, not when it comes to me.”
Mel quickly nods, hands reaching up to grip the steering wheel as her eyes stay locked on yours. She looks lighter, that invisible weight stripped from her shoulders.
“No more overthinking… got it,” she confirms. “Um, so in you know, in light of this new thing, what if you…” her voice dies as her grip tightens on the steering wheel, fighting for words. “Whatifyoucomeovertomyplacefordinnertonight?”
She says it all in one breath, as if she leaves any room for oxygen, she might talk herself out of it. You can tell how much it costs her to reach out to you with an invite for dinner. And it’s not just dinner, she’s inviting you to her home. And that alone tells you everything you need to know.
“I’d like that,” you say simply. “A lot.”
The relief on her face is immediate and unguarded. She laughs, a breathy laugh that seems more like an expression of disbelief than anything else. “I mean,” she smiles. “I don’t really have anything prepared, maybe we could just order something in… if you want.”
You smile at her, a real, genuine smile. “Yeah, that works for me, whatever you want to do.”
Mel—suddenly filled with confidence—bites her lip to hold back her grin, as she puts the car into gear, and finally, after what feels like ages, pulls out of the hospital parking lot.