Work Text:
Later, he’ll try to blame it on the exhaustion.
That they’d both been pulled on to night shift for the last two weeks and, even though he’s pinned down strategies to transition to it long ago, there’s no real accounting for the jarring nature of being awake when the rest of the world is fast asleep.
So yeah, Frank would like to blame it on that, he just can’t.
He quickens his pace, trying to keep up with her on the winding park path, the sinking afternoon sun beating down against his back as he glances over once more.
Her hair is pulled back in a high ponytail, a few strands have come loose at her forehead, billowing in the breeze. Sometimes one slips down across her glasses and she swipes it away with a huff of frustration.
The noise does something to him and he has to physically stop himself from reaching across the space between them and tucking it gently behind her ear.
With his luck he’d screw up their pace and they’d end up in the ED having to explain why they’re both covered in road rash.
Her pace slows a little as they hit the small incline on the path and he presses forward, letting himself take the lead for a bit.
He knows she’ll be blowing past him as soon as the trail levels off again.
They’d started running together in the late fall.
A way for him to increase his range of motion and for her to get out of her head for a bit.
(It actually helped him get out of his head, too, which was really fucking welcome since the ink had barely been dry on his divorce papers.
And Mel always told him interesting stories as they started out, like the time when she was three and “tattooed” Becca with a Sharpie. Or how she really, really loved the farmer’s market by her apartment and had accidentally started bartering with one of the vendors, which was how she’d gotten a whole stack of stickers for practically nothing.)
They’d had to take a break when the Pennsylvania weather inevitably became bitter and snowy—he’d forced himself to do some walks on a treadmill; he hated it—but now they’re back to a set schedule.
Well, as much as they can be with their jobs.
The incline flattens and, sure enough, she’s back beside him almost instantly.
“You thought you could lose me, didn’t you?” It’s light, teasing in a way that he’s only heard her use around him and Becca. Maybe Samira, from time to time.
“Nah.” He shrugs, squints over at her in the setting sun; some week he’ll actually remember sunglasses. “Just needed to prove to myself I still had some speed.”
She laughs, her head tipped back even as she starts to push her pace a little. The light catches the pin on her running vest and he can’t tear his gaze away from it.
Again.
It’s actually kind of pathetic how much time he’s spent looking at it since the weather cleared and they started running again.
He’d finally caved in March and looked up its meaning after it appeared in sticker form on her Owala.
A black triangle at the very left of the flag with stripes of white, purple, and gray.
Demisexual pride.
It’s been pounding in his head for weeks. No, probably closer to months.
He’s just… curious… that’s all.
He wants to know everything about her. She’s his closest friend.
(And yeah, he knows that’s not the only reason.
He’s been lying to himself about that.
Has been for a while.)
He knows she’ll never bring it up, the pin and sticker themselves are enough of a declaration, of her pushing her boundaries and stepping up for herself. He just can’t decide if he should.
She sure as hell doesn’t owe him the information, but he’s beginning to think maybe he can trust that she might want him to know it.
(If there’s one thing that being on the night shift for a few weeks has done for him, it’s this.
Getting a little distance from Robby has been good for both of them. It doesn’t hurt that Abbot seems to understand where his insecurities lie and instead of pressing on them, offers strategies to navigate around them.
He could never make the change permanent, not with the kids and he’d really fucking miss seeing Mel during shifts, but it’s been nice for a few days.)
And honestly, he has his one year chip.
It’s something he’ll be struggling with the rest of his life, but he’s beginning to think he’s not a complete fucking wrecking ball.
That he might have something to offer Mel. Something beyond their close friendship, which he will always give willingly.
Fuck, he’d rather shave his head than do otherwise.
Glancing towards her, he grimaces as he realizes she’s further ahead of him than he thought. Her feet strike the path in an even tempo, ponytail swaying against her neck. Her stride is so easy, calm, despite the slight sweat he knows is starting to dot her brow.
He pushes himself a little, grinning as her head swivels slightly, as though she’s tracking his progress.
And that’s the thing.
He catches her sometimes.
Out of the corner of his eye while they’re charting, her fingers stilling just a beat too long.
Or when he’d accompanied her to Becca’s holiday concert and she’d nervously bumped his knee multiple times before Becca’s song.
Or that memorable afternoon when she’d stopped Santos mid-sentence with a single look.
On his behalf.
(Him and Santos are… fine… now, but sometimes she toes over the line just a little too far.
A little too hard.
Watching Mel stop her cold had sent him into tachycardia for longer than is healthy.)
Fuck, he loves her.
It should probably be more terrifying than it is.
He’s so caught up in the thought, the absolute certainty and warmth of it, that he almost runs headlong into Mel, who’s paused in the middle of the path.
He saves them at the last moment, their shoulders and arms crashing together but they stay upright.
He definitely didn’t think they were going to for a minute there.
“Fuck, Mel, sorry.” He’s rubbing her arm, testing for any sore spots in her elbow, which took most of the impact. “I kind of zoned out there.”
“I noticed.” She shakes her head, bites her lower lip. “I’m fine, Frank, I was just surpr—”
“Just let me look, ok?” He raises an eyebrow, continues rotating her arm slowly. He feels more than sees her assent and moves his examination outward.
Down to her wrist then back up her arm, over her shoulders.
The pin glints at him as her fingers brush against the nape of his neck.
He doesn’t even clock that he’s asking about it until the words are halfway out of his mouth.
“Did you just…” She’s looking at him curiously, hands still at the base of his hair, eyes wide behind her glasses.
He thinks it’s more out of surprise than alarm but he can’t let the possibility of it being the latter linger.
Apparently, he’s doing this.
“Your pin, it’s because you identify as being demisexual, right?” He forces himself to take a step back, refusing to pressure her.
“Yeah.”
“And that means…” He exhales slowly, runs a hand through his hair. “That means you only feel attraction with someone after you have a friendship with them.”
Nodding, Mel presses her lips together, smooths her running vest. “Did you… did you research that, Frank?”
He wants to laugh—god, if she only knew—but he can’t, this is too important.
“Yeah, once I saw it on your water bottle, too, I couldn’t stop myself. I’m sorry, that’s probably pretty invasive.”
“It’s not, no.” The corner of her mouth lifts and she closes some of the distance he put between them. “If I didn’t want people to know I wouldn’t wear it.”
“Ok, good, that’s… that’s good…” Forcing himself to still, Frank lets his gaze drift over her again. There’s a slight sheen of sweat at her hairline, a flush cresting her cheeks, her glasses are slightly off center. She’s so damn beautiful. “Is that, uh, do you ever think that could be a possibility with me? For us?”
Mel’s breath hitches for a second and then she’s stepping forward, the toe of her sneakers nudging his as she stares up at him. “It has been for a while. I just didn’t think… I love our friendship so much. It means the world to me and I know you value it, too. So I guess even though I thought I caught you looking at me a little longer than even I know is appropriate for close friends I didn’t—”
“Mel.” Sighing, he closes the little space between them, hauling her to him. His arm settles lowly on her waist and he grins against her forehead before pressing a kiss there.
Leaning into him, she lets her eyes drift shut for a minute, her hand fluttering slightly at his side before slipping under his shirt, splaying against his warm back.
She’s just about to push up on her toes, to press her lips to the hinge of his jaw when—
“Oh my god, get a room. Or at least take it off the path.” A cyclist speeds by and she feels Frank stiffen and then relax against her, his shoulders shaking with laughter.
“Shit, I can’t believe I forgot we were standing in the middle like this.” His eyes dance in the low light of late afternoon, his free hand flexing in the curve of her waist.
“We’re going to lose all the good path karma we earned from checking that rollerblader’s sprain last month.” Stepping to the side, Mel leans down and double checks her shoelaces. Satisfied, she straightens, gives in to the desire and brushes her lips over Frank’s jaw, and then she’s off, sprinting ahead of him on the trail. “Race you to the car! First one there gets to pick where we go for breakfast after shift tonight.”
Frank can’t stop the smile spreading over his face. Doesn’t want to. He wonders how fast Abbot is going to call him on it when they show up to work. “It’s a date, Mel.”
Turning, he does a few arm circles and follows after her.