Work Text:
It was a normal shift in late January. Lots of colds, lots of ice-related accidents, just the right amount of interesting cases to keep Frank’s ADHD brain stimulated. He’d finished working on a guy who’d slipped on the ice, sending him upstairs for a CT scan, when he deemed the ER slow enough to go to the break room for a breather.
Almost automatically, his gaze searched for Mel to see if she wanted to take the break with him, but her golden braid was nowhere to be seen. He tried to shake the thought, the instinct, away. It wasn’t fair to her, the way he was always gravitating towards her.
“Good job on the trauma earlier,” Robby said, passing behind Frank, briefly squeezing his shoulder before quickly moving on.
Frank exhaled shakily. Their relationship was still very fraught, but it had been getting better in the past few months. Robby had been away for a bit — not on his motorcycle trip, thankfully, but some cruise or something. After coming back, he didn’t seem that much better, but he had at least stopped dropping ominous hints that he was going to kill himself.
He was also more willing to give Frank compliments, which Frank still hadn’t gotten used to. As he entered the break room, he was embarrassed to see that his hands were shaking slightly. Holy shit, he was pathetic, wasn’t he?
As if to answer that very question, Santos suddenly stuck her head into the break room, her hair in a high ponytail that slapped her face at the movement. “Hey, asshole.”
“Hello to you too,” Frank said mildly as he took one of his RedBulls out of the fridge. Their relationship had also gotten better these past few months. At least she didn’t want to get him fired anymore, so that was progress, right? Still, the two of them were far from friendly, and he doubted they ever would be.
“Me and Mel and a few other people are going to a bar after the shift and you have to come.”
Frank almost choked on his own spit. “I’m sorry, what?”
Santos rolled her eyes so hard it looked like they might pop out of their sockets. “I’ve only managed to convince Mel to go out with me, like, three times since the Fourth, and all those times involved a lot of begging that I honestly just don’t have the energy for. But I know for sure she’ll come if you come, so… You gotta come.”
Frank felt his ears heat up. “… Did she say that?”
Another violent eye roll. “Uh, no. But she didn’t have to. I know things.”
“Uh-huh,” Frank said, trying to force his heart to stop beating so hard. He took a sip of his RedBull, which did not help in the slightest.
“Are you coming or not?” Santos demanded.
Frank considered it. Even though he had no desire to spend the night at a bar with Santos, there were probably a lot worse conditions he would subject himself to in order to spend time with Mel outside of work.
They had done it a few times, but not as often as he would’ve liked. He drove her home from work a few times a week. He’d helped her put together a shelf from IKEA once. She’d walked his dog with him twice — first because she’d wanted to meet her, and then the second time because Mel had found her so adorable that she’d just needed to see her again. Frank was hoping for a third dog walk somewhere in the near future.
The one time they’d spent time together outside of work that really stood out to him — the one that made him certain they were friends and not just work friends — was when they’d gone to a renaissance fair together. Mel had told him about how much she used to love it, and that she hadn’t been able to go to one in a long time, and… Frank might have gone home that night and googled if there would be any ren faires in Pittsburgh any time soon. He’d found one a month from then, and had invited Mel to it the very next day. Part of him had been scared of seeming too forward, but the blinding smile on her face had made him certain he’d done the right thing.
The ren fair was honestly really fun. Lots of people in really amazing costumes, lots of good food, and some very cool shows. Frank had gone full historical with his outfit — inspired by Fort Pitt, of course — while Mel had been much more fantasy inspired. Her hair had been half up half down in some intricately braided hairstyle, and she’d worn a beautiful purple dress that had made Frank feel like a repressed Victorian man swooning over collar bones and ankles. Her character was an elven princess, and it had been the day Frank had realized he might have a thing for pretty women with elf ears. But that was neither here nor there. The point was that they’d spent the whole day together, they’d had a lot of fun, and Frank had finally convinced her to call him by his first name.
The point was also that Frank desperately needed to spend more time with her outside of work.
“Yeah,” he said. “I’ll come.”
The bar was one of the closest ones to the PTMC, so he’d been there many times before. Not with this group of people, though: Santos, Whitaker, Javadi, Mel and him. If it hadn’t been for Mel, he would’ve turned on his heel the minute he realized there wouldn’t be anyone else from the Pitt there. As it was, Mel was in fact there, so Frank was staying.
The bar was pretty nice. The walls and floors were wooden, and most of the furniture was at least partially made out of metal, giving it a rustic feel. The lighting was soft and warm, the lamps hanging from the ceiling looking like upside down baskets. They mostly played 80s music, which Frank appreciated, since it was mostly what he listened to too. He hadn’t listened to modern music in years, except for the KPop Demon Hunters soundtrack on repeat every time he was with Tanner and the rap songs Mel put on in the car whenever he drove her home.
It was a Friday, so the bar was pretty full, mostly people in their twenties and thirties but some in their forties and fifties too. They somehow managed to find an empty booth in a corner to sit in — Frank and Mel on one side, the others on the other. The red vinyl material squeaked as they sat down, and Frank noticed Mel cringe at the sound.
“Wanna find somewhere else to sit?” he asked.
“Hm?” Mel asked, looking around the bar with wide eyes, not meeting his gaze. “No, it’s fine. I’m fine.” She was wringing her hands together, and her shoulders were practically at her ears.
“We can leave whenever you want,” Frank said softly.
“Uh, no way!” Santos cut in before Mel could answer. “We just got here!”
Frank sighed. “I’ll go order drinks. What does everyone want?”
Whitaker wanted a beer, Santos wanted a Manhattan, and Javadi wanted a mojito. When Frank turned to Mel, she just shrugged. “A coke, I guess?”
Frank smiled, a little relieved that he wouldn’t be the only one not drinking.
“A rum and coke,” Santos corrected. “Mel, you promised to get at least one drink.”
Mel hesitated, having a silent conversation with Santos over the table, with some raises of eyebrows and pursed lips, before she sighed. “Okay, a rum and coke, please.”
Frank wanted to argue, to assure Mel that she didn’t have to drink if she didn’t want to, but he decided not to push it. He knew Mel would not appreciate it if he and Santos started arguing right now. Even if he thought Santos was pushing Mel’s boundaries a bit too far.
So he just saluted Mel, which made her smile, and made his way over to the bar. There, he was met with the familiar face of a high school friend. Frank had known he worked here — at least had been before Frank went to rehab — but hadn’t considered the fact that he might be working tonight. It was a nice surprise.
“Will!” Frank said, smiling widely.
“Frank?” Will grinned. He was a big guy with lots of tattoos, who would look pretty intimidating if it wasn’t for his warm smile. “I haven’t seen you here in ages, man. How’s it going? How’s the wife?”
Frank paused for just a second, shuddering internally as he did every time he knew he’d have to explain to yet another person what had happened to him. At least he didn’t have to tell Will about the drugs. “Uh… We got divorced.” He held up his ringless hand.
His marriage hadn’t been great even before rehab — he’d been too impulsive, worked too much, been too addicted to drugs — so that had really just been the final straw. Still, Abby had stayed with him through it, through the treatments, through all the HR meetings before coming back, through the first month back at work. He wasn’t sure why she’d done it. Probably for the kids, or for the hope of getting back the thing between them they’d lost long ago.
It hadn’t come back, and Abby had served him the papers a month after he returned to the PTMC. It hadn’t come as a shock to him at all.
Will’s face fell. “Oh, man. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” Frank waved it off, choosing instead to rattle off his coworker’s orders — and a coke for him, although he didn’t specify who it was for. Will didn’t need to know about all that.
“Coming right up,” Will said with a jovial smile.
As Will prepared the drinks and Frank tapped absentmindedly against the bar with his hands, a brunette woman came up beside him. She was gorgeous, but she didn’t have a mole under her eye and a smile that made his heart skip a beat, so he wasn’t particularly interested. Still, he was a sucker for positive attention, so he let her make some small talk until the drinks were done.
“Thanks, man,” he said to Will. The brunette put a hand on his arm as he grabbed the tray with the drinks. In a voice he hoped was dismissive but not mean, he said, “I gotta go back to my group. But it was nice meeting you.”
Then he turned and started walking towards the booth, letting her hand fall away. As he looked towards the booth in the corner, his eyes immediately locked on Mel, who seemed to have been watching him. He smiled at her, but she quickly looked away.
“Bon appétit," Frank said as he slid in beside Mel, offering everyone their drinks.
“I think you only say that for food,” Javadi said, carefully taking her mojito.
“It was a joke,” Frank clarified. He looked over at Mel with a smile to see if she’d liked his bad joke, but she wasn’t looking at him. She was looking towards the bar. “You okay, Mel?”
Mel blinked, finally meeting his eyes. “Y-yes, I’m fine.” She grabbed her rum and coke and took a sip, wrinkling her nose slightly at the taste. “How much do I owe you for the drink?”
“Oh, nothing,” Frank said easily. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Santos open her mouth, and quickly told the rest of the group, “That only applies to Mel. The rest of you have to Venmo me.”
“Oh, you don’t have to–”
“I want to,” Frank said, gently cutting Mel off. He really liked the way her cheeks turned pink.
She wasn’t really dressed up — none of them were — but he rarely got to see her in street clothes, so it was always a treat when he did. She was wearing a dark blue T-shirt, showing off her arms, and jeans that fit her perfectly. Someone — probably Santos — had also convinced her to wear her hair loose. After being in a braid all day, it fell in soft waves around her face and down her back.
The five of them talked for a while, first pretty normal stuff about work, until it eventually turned into a gossip session about who had a crush on who and who was hooking up with who at the hospital. Apparently Javadi had a crush on Mateo, and three surgeons were having some sort of wild “situationship”. The relationship between Santos and Garcia was the huge elephant in the room, but thankfully no one brought it up. The conversation was very high school, and Frank felt far too old for it, but it was also kind of fun. Mel seemed to be enjoying herself, getting more and more invested the further she got in her drink.
After a while, everyone wanted another round of drinks, and Frank volunteered to order it. He came up to the bar and was greeted with a familiar warm smile from Will. He tried not to think too hard about whether or not Will would still smile at him like that if he knew about the drugs. It was almost constant in Frank’s mind — the fear of judgement, the awareness of judgment, the imagination of judgment where there was none.
As Will prepared the drinks, a woman — a redhead this time — came up to Frank. He was aware that he was attractive, but it was still new to get hit on just this often. The wedding ring had used to scare at least some people off. He again let the redhead make small talk as he waited for the drinks. At some point, he looked over at their booth, meeting Mel’s unreadable eyes. She whipped her head away from him, leaning over the table to talk to Santos. He heard Santos cheer, and suddenly Mel and Santos were making their way over to the bar.
Santos was grinning like she’d just won the lottery, and leaned over the bar to another bartender, loudly ordering two shots. Mel stood beside her, nervously tapping her fingers against the bar. Frank watched them, not even pretending to listen to the woman beside him anymore. Shots? Really?
Two shots were placed in front of the women, and Santos cheered as they clinked their glasses together and downed them. Frank watched Mel lean her head back, her blonde hair grazing her lower back, and swallow. She coughed slightly, but grinned at Santos.
“Can we do another one?” Mel asked, glancing quickly at Frank before focusing on Santos again.
“Hell yeah, we can!” Santos exclaimed.
Someone tapped Frank’s arm. “Earth to Frank?” Frank blinked, turning to Will, who had finished making the drinks. “You okay, man?”
“I… Yeah,” Frank said, taking the tray. “Thanks.”
Hesitantly, he made his way back to their booth, watching Mel and Santos take another shot. Mel burst into giggles after the second shot, leaning her head against Santos’ shoulder. Frank felt weirdly jealous.
“Why are they taking shots?” Frank asked as he slid into the booth.
Whitaker shrugged, taking his beer.
“Trinity wants Mel to loosen up,” Javadi said.
“Yeah, I know, but why does Mel want to take shots?”
“Why is that any of your business?” Santos challenged, having come up to their booth along with Mel without Frank noticing.
“It’s not,” Frank said quickly. “I just…”
“It’s just what, Dr. Langdon?” Santos said with raised eyebrows.
Frank sighed. “Nothing.” And it was true; it wasn’t his business. Even if he was scared of Mel being peer pressured or whatever, it wasn’t his job to save her from it. She could make her own decisions.
He scooted further into their booth so Mel could sit down beside him. She did so with wobbly movements that made it very clear that she was not used to drinking. As the vinyl squeaked, she let out a loud giggle.
“Enjoying yourself?” Frank asked with a grin.
Mel shrugged, scooting closer to him than she’d sat before. Frank tried not to think too hard about it.
For a while, neither Mel nor Frank said anything. The silence between them was filled with Santos, Javadi and Whitaker bickering, but Frank only really had eyes for Mel. That seemed to be the case for her too, because she kept glancing over at him.
Frank had just opened his mouth to ask if Becca was with her boyfriend tonight, when Mel said, “She was pretty.”
Frank blinked. “What? Who?”
“The–” Mel gestured vaguely to the bar. “The woman. Both women. They were both so pretty. Like… supermodels.”
“Okay…” Frank said slowly. These words could mean a lot of things, but if they meant what he hoped they meant, he really, really needed to clarify, “I wasn’t interested in either of them.”
At that, Mel’s face did something really weird. It scrunched up in what seemed to be anger, although Frank really couldn’t understand why that would make her angry.
She quickly turned to Santos and announced, “I want another shot.”
Santos’ eyebrows flew to her hairline and a huge grin split her face. “Who are you and what have you done with Mel? Oh my God, yes, you’re getting another shot!”
Frank watched the two women practically skip over to the bar and throw back another shot. His jaw was on the floor at this point — truly, who was this Mel and what had she done to the Mel he knew?
As Mel headed back to the table, she was about as steady on her feet as Bambi on the ice. She held onto Santos’ arm, giggling loudly. Just before she reached the booth, she tripped over her own feet, falling headfirst towards their table.
Frank, already ready on the edge of the seat in case something happened, leapt forward and grabbed Mel, catching her right before she would’ve had to go back to the PTMC. She let out a sharp breath when he caught her, presumably seeing the table that had nearly hit her right in the face. For a second, they just stayed like this, Mel in his arms, Frank half-standing half-crouching in a way that was definitely not good for his back.
Then Frank whispered, “Do you want me to drive you home, maybe?”
He straightened up, helping her properly to her feet. She looked up at him, her face beautifully flushed. Her hair fell across her face, grazing her cheeks and nose, covering part of her glasses. Without thinking, he pushed some of it behind her ear.
Mel let out a shuddering breath, then nodded.
Frank turned back to the group, grabbing his and Mel’s jackets, as well as Mel’s tote bag. “I think it’s time for Mel and me to head home, but you guys have fun!”
“Killjoy,” Santos muttered. She pointed at Mel sternly. “Text me when you get home.” As if Frank would let anything happen to her.
Mel nodded, then waved to the rest of the group. Frank helped Mel into her jacket, then sneaked an arm around her to keep her steady and started steering them towards the exit. The warmth of her pressed against his side made his brain do all sorts of wacky stuff, but he didn’t let her go. Both because he didn’t want to and because Mel truly couldn’t walk on her own.
When the fresh air hit them — mixed with the smell of cigarettes from the people smoking outside — Frank looked down at Mel and finally asked, “You okay?”
Mel nodded. Once. Twice. After the third time, her face crumpled, and she forcefully shook her head.
Shit.
Frank quickly started steering them towards his car. It was probably all the people, right? All the sounds, the smells, everything. Maybe she’d started drinking so much to try to dull her senses? He’d read something about some autistic people doing that.
Mel started mumbling something, but with her face halfway pressed against his chest, he couldn’t hear it.
“What?” Frank asked.
“I don’t get it,” Mel mumbled louder, her voice pained, the sound of a whine trapped in the back of her throat.
“What don’t you get?”
Frank stopped as they got to his car, and Mel pushed herself away from him. Her face was crumpled in what looked like genuine despair.
“They were both so… so pretty,” Mel’s voice was barely above a whisper.
“Who?”
“The women at the bar!” Mel exclaimed, her voice suddenly far too loud, gesturing wildly back to the bar they’d just left. A couple of the smokers looked over at them, but Frank ignored it.
“Mel…”
“They were both so pretty, Frank,” Mel said, voice down to almost a whisper again. “They were all over you, and they were gorgeous! I don’t get it. And– And if you don’t even like them, how can you… How…”
Frank blinked slowly. “How can I…?”
Mel covered her hands with her face, taking another step backwards. “I’m not as pretty as them,” she whispered, completely ignoring what he’d said. “Or the nurses or patients who keep flirting with you or … or anyone.” She let out another sob. “It’s not fair, Frank! It’s not fair at all!”
Now, Frank tried very hard to not read into the things Mel said, because he knew she hated that. He tried very hard to take her at her word, and only her word. But even though she hadn’t said it outright, she was making it pretty clear what she was trying to say, and it made his whole body buzz with excitement.
She’s drunk, he reminded himself. She might not mean any of this.
Drunk words were not always sober thoughts. But sometimes they were.
Either way, he couldn’t stand here a second longer and let her think of herself as unattractive. “Mel,” he said softly, taking a few steps towards her. “Mel, can you look at me?”
Slowly, Mel let her hands drop to her side. Her face was red, her eyes wide as she looked up at him.
“You’re the most beautiful woman in the world.”
Frank wished he could watch the way Mel’s face instantly lit up on repeat forever. Maybe heaven was just this moment playing over and over again.
The moment right before Mel King kissed him.
For a second, Frank forgot where he was, who he was, what he was doing. All he knew was her lips against his, her arms around his neck, her body pressed against his. Maybe this was heaven, actually.
At the taste of alcohol, he was reminded that she was very drunk, and he gently pushed her away. The way her face fell as he did so was not something he ever wanted to see again.
“You’re drunk,” Frank said softly.
“Sorry, sorry, oh my God, I’m so sorry,” Mel said. She covered her face with her hands, certainly crying again. “God, Frank, I’m so sorry.”
“No, Mel, it’s okay, I swear. It’s just that you’re drunk, Mel, I–”
But she was shaking her head, moving to the other side of the car on wobbly feet, clumsily making her way into the passenger seat. The sound of the car door slamming shut reverberated through his whole body.
Frank stood there on the sidewalk for a moment, unsure of what to do, the ghost of her lips still on his.
The car ride was mostly quiet, except for Mel apologizing every once in a while and Frank assuring her that it was okay. He asked if they needed to pick up Becca, and she informed him that her sister was with her boyfriend. Mel had gotten a lot more used to the thought of Becca being in a relationship, but Frank had not yet managed to convince Mel that this was actually a good thing for her too. It gave her more free time to go to bars, ren fairs, dog walks. It gave her more time to be her own person.
When he stopped in front of her apartment, Mel apologized one last time.
“Mel, I swear, it’s okay,” Frank said gently. And, because she would probably not remember this, and he just couldn’t stand the heartbroken look on her face, he added, “If… If you had been sober, I wouldn’t have stopped the kiss.”
Not that she would ever kiss him sober. No, he was the kind of man you went for when alcohol washed away anything called standards.
Mel’s head whipped around to look at him. “Really?”
“Really,” Frank admitted, feeling like he was laying his heart in her hands. She could care for it like the doctor she was, or she could simply throw it away. Declare it dead at 10:29 P.M.
“I don’t like sleeping in my apartment alone,” Mel whispered.
It was Frank’s turn to look at her, his head moving so fast he swore he heard something crack.
“Oh,” was all he could think to say.
Mel studied him for a moment, then said quietly, “You … You could sleep on my couch, if you want to?”
Frank’s heart skipped several beats.
Was this crossing a line? Taking advantage of the fact that Mel was drunk? Maybe, honestly. But Mel was looking at him with her big hazel eyes and he simply couldn’t say no.
“Okay,” Frank said.
Frank had been to Mel’s apartment once to help her with the IKEA shelf, and it looked pretty much the same as when he’d last been there — including the white shelf she’d placed in the corner of the living room right before he’d left. There were a couple of picture frames perched on it now.
The apartment was a pretty small two bedroom, with a nice little kitchen, a small living room, and a blue tiled bathroom. Mel and Becca had decorated it with colorful peel-and-stick wallpaper in all the rooms and lots of LEGO flowers. The fridge in the kitchen was covered in pictures. Most of them were of Mel and Becca, but some of them were of them and their parents from when they were younger. A few were of Becca and Adam. Frank zeroed in on a picture of him and Mel at the ren fair. Mel had asked a stranger to take it for them, which had been very sweet at the time, but Frank had never dreamt that he would end up on the fridge in Mel’s apartment.
Mel bumbled around for a while, shoving a glass of water in his hands, then chugging one herself, texting Santos that she’d gotten home safe, singing loudly in the bathroom, then coming out of it in an oversized T-shirt and very short shorts. Frank sat down on the couch in the dusky pink living room, a little unsure of what to do with himself. He honestly didn’t mind it; being in Mel King’s apartment was much better than being alone in his own.
When Mel came out of the bathroom, she clapped her hands over her mouth. “Your back!”
“What about it?” Frank asked, keeping his eyes firmly on her face and not her long, bare legs.
“You can’t sleep on the couch!”
Frank shrugged. “Sure I can.”
Mel shook her head forcefully, then wrapped a surprisingly strong hand around his arm, pulling him up. “No, you can’t. You’ll sleep in my bed, and I’ll take the couch.”
“Mel, don’t be silly,” Frank said. “It’s your apartment. ‘Course I’ll sleep on the couch.”
But Mel didn’t listen. She just kept shoving him to her bedroom. Eventually he had to admit defeat and let himself be pushed onto her bed. (Oh, how he wished it had happened in a different context.)
He hadn’t been in her bedroom before. The walls were a sensible green, with a few pictures of her and Becca taped over the queen sized bed in the corner. She had a desk overflowing with papers. A rug shaped like a cloud filled a third of the floor. The whole room smelled like her.
“Are you sure?” Frank asked, very aware that this was another huge boundary he was crossing. How would she feel when she woke up on the couch tomorrow with him in her bed?
Mel nodded. “Yes, I’m sure.” She sighed. “Maybe it’ll smell like you tomorrow.”
With that, she left the bedroom.
Frank woke up to the sounds of clattering in the kitchen. For a second, he was completely disoriented — was he back in his and Abby’s home? Was she making him breakfast, like she’d used to?
Then last night came rushing back to him, and he felt overwhelmingly guilty for the thought.
Sunlight shone through a gap in the otherwise lightproof white curtains, bathing the room in warm light. With the green walls, the cloud rug, the flower patterned bedsheets, and the LEGO flowers on her desk, he almost felt like he was out in a field of flowers. It was probably on purpose; he’d listened to Mel tell more than a few patients about the benefits of surrounding oneself with nature or even just pictures or recreations of it.
Frank quickly got out of bed, knowing Mel likely wouldn’t want him to linger. She probably wanted him out of her apartment as soon as possible.
It had taken him ages to fall asleep last night. He’d thought about how much Mel had had to drink — had she done it because of him? Because she was jealous? The thought was exciting, but it also made something twist in his stomach. He’d thought about her drunken rant, the implication throughout all of it that she might be interested in him (again very exciting) and how she thought she wasn’t pretty enough (again making his stomach twist).
He’d thought about the kiss over and over again. He’d pressed his face into the pillow in an attempt to push the thought away, only for his nose to be overwhelmed by the scent of Mel’s shampoo. He shouldn’t have slept in her bed. He should have snuck out in the middle of the night in the hopes that Mel would forget this ever happened.
Except that he didn’t want her to forget. He needed to know if what had happened last night was something she wanted to remember.
It likely wasn’t. He was a divorced drug addict with a mess of life. Someone who had to be watched as he pissed in a cup multiple times a week. Someone who didn’t see his kids nearly as much as he wanted to, and cried himself to sleep because of it several times a month. Someone who was unable to have a normal conversation with one of Mel’s best friends at work, and whose hands started shaking when his superior gave him the most basic compliments. Someone who was hopefully trying his best, but still constantly fell short. Someone who did not deserve Mel King.
Still, if Mel wanted him… She probably didn’t. But he needed to know if she did.
After stretching a little to get rid of some of the tightness in his back, Frank pulled on his pants from last night — he’d slept in his T-shirt and boxers — and exited the room.
The sounds coming from the kitchen immediately stopped when Frank closed the bedroom door. Slowly, Mel poked her head out of the kitchen to look at him. Her hair was beautifully disheveled, her eyes wide.
“Uhm. Hi,” she said, cheeks growing red.
“Good morning,” Frank said, trying to seem very casual about this whole thing. Trying to show Mel that she didn’t need to freak out. “How are you feeling? Hungover?”
Mel shook her head slowly. “Not really, actually. Just a small headache, but I’m fine.”
“Lucky,” Frank said with a grin. “I used to get the worst hangovers. They were literal torture.”
Mel let out a small, somewhat nervous laugh, before her head disappeared back into the kitchen again. “I, uh, I made tea if you want some? I know you prefer coffee, but Becca and I don’t do well with caffeine, so–”
“Tea is fine,” he said calmly, walking over to the kitchen.
Mel was rushing around in the tiny space, clearly stressed. She was making omelettes, it seemed like — one was sizzling in a pan, while she whisked together the other — even though Frank knew she ate almost exclusively cereal for breakfast.
“I’m making omelettes,” Mel said. “You like that, right?”
“Yeah,” Frank said. He couldn’t remember when he’d told her that. Probably in the same conversation he’d learned that she ate cereal for breakfast. “I love it.”
Mel breathed out a small sigh of relief. Frank watched her place the first omelette carefully on a plate and pour in the mix for the next one in the pan. She grabbed the plate, wordlessly offering it to Frank. Her hair was in a messy ponytail, and she was wearing a pink apron. And the same tiny shorts from last night. It really wasn’t fair.
“Thank you,” Frank said, accepting the plate. Mel gave him a small smile. He almost melted.
“Here’s the tea,” she said, handing him a warm cup of black tea before she quickly turned back to the omelette she was making.
There was a small table between the kitchen and the space that the King sisters officially defined as their living room. Frank knew it was where they ate their meals — it was where he’d eaten lunch with Mel after they’d finished making the shelf — so that was where he sat down.
He watched Mel cook, not taking a bite until she finally sat down opposite him with her own omelette and cup of tea.
Mel frowned. “Your food is getting cold.”
Frank shrugged and finally took a bite. It was a very good omelette. Not the best he’d tasted, but it was up there. “Damn, Mel, this is amazing.”
He was rewarded with an adorable blush. Shrugging the compliment away, she took her own bite. She contemplated the taste of her food for a second, then nodded, clearly pleased.
For a while, longer than Frank would’ve liked, they ate without saying anything. The silence seemed to build between them, pressing in on him. He kept glancing over at Mel. More often than not, she was already looking at him, but she always quickly looked away.
This was awkward in a way it rarely was between them. Frank was suddenly overtaken by the fear that last night was going to irreparably ruin their friendship. That Mel felt so embarrassed for having kissed him when she'd been too drunk to think straight that she wouldn’t be able to look at him properly again. Or that she felt violated by the fact that he’d agreed to come into her apartment despite her drunken state. That he’d agreed to sleep in her bed for fuck’s sake.
Frank opened his mouth, apology on his tongue, but Mel rushed ahead of him, “I– I got too carried away last night. Obviously.”
Closing his mouth, Frank nodded slightly, waiting for her to continue. He tried to push away the disappointment curdling in his stomach like spoiled milk.
Mel’s cheeks reddened, but she continued, “With the– the shots, and the– Uhm. Me kissing you.” She stared into her tea, her face crimson. “And asking you to sleep over, obviously. I– It was really unprofessional, and– and I took advantage of your kindness and–”
“Mel,” Frank said, gently cutting her off.
Mel’s mouth snapped shut. She blinked rapidly a few times, almost like she was blinking back tears. Frank ached for her.
“You have nothing to apologize for,” he said gently. “Okay? You didn’t take advantage of anything. If anyone did, it was me.”
Mel’s eyes widened. “What? No, you didn’t at all!”
“Mel. I agreed to sleep in your bed, even though you were very drunk.”
“But your back…” Mel argued weakly.
“I shouldn’t have agreed to sleep in your apartment in the first place,” Frank continued. “I should’ve made sure you got safely inside and then driven home. I…” He looked down at his omelette. “You were very drunk, and I feel like I crossed a few boundaries. So I’m sorry.”
There was a long pause, until Mel said softly, “You didn’t cross any of my boundaries.” It reminded him far too much of what she’d said to him when he’d returned from rehab.
You never let me down.
Frank let out a long sigh, relief washing over him. His friendship with Mel was one of the only things in his life he hadn’t managed to fuck up yet, and it felt good to know that it hadn’t happened last night either. He smiled, looking up at Mel again. “That’s good.”
Mel gave him a small smile, nodding.
They ate the rest of their breakfast in silence, Frank studying the apartment as he drank his tea, Mel pulling gently at her fingers. There was obviously more she wanted to say, but he didn’t want to push her. This must be a difficult situation for her, waking up with a man in her apartment that she hadn’t meant to kiss the night before.
He hoped he was better than a stranger, at least. That she would eventually feel comfortable telling him what was on her mind, even if it was that she wanted him to get lost.
When they’d both finished their tea, Mel picked up their plates and cups and carried them to the kitchen. He offered to help, but she didn’t let him. So he just stood leaned against the doorway of her kitchen, watching her put the dishes in the dishwasher.
Closing the dishwasher, with her back still turned to him, she said, “Can I ask you something?”
“For sure,” he said easily.
Mel let out a long, shuddering breath. Her shoulders were practically up to her ears, her whole body taught with tension. She didn’t say anything for a while, obviously psyching herself up for it.
Eventually, Frank decided to just say it for her. “I can leave now if that’s what you wanted to ask?”
Mel whipped around, her face a mix of surprise and horror. “No!”
“Oh.” Frank could feel his ears heat up. She… wanted him here?
“U-unless you want to go?” Mel asked nervously.
“No,” Frank said gently. “I don’t.”
Mel let out a sigh of relief. “Good. That’s– Oh, that’s good.”
She bit the fingernail on her thumb for a second, then moved past him out of the kitchen, sitting down on the couch in the living room, one leg tucked under her. When Frank didn’t immediately follow her, she patted the empty space beside her on the couch. The place he’d sat last night, still kind of in shock, as he watched Mel get ready for bed.
“Frank,” she said seriously, nervously, when he sat down beside her. His thigh almost brushed her bare knee. Just almost.
“Mel,” he said, forcing a small smile.
He was, like, 80% sure this was going to be a rejection. Not that she would know that it was a rejection — since she had kissed him, not the other way around, so she really had no way of knowing that he had feelings for her — but that was what it would be. Mel would explain that she hadn’t meant to kiss him, that her little rant had just been drunken insecurity and really had nothing to do with him, and then she would nervously ask if this was going to affect their friendship. And he would promise her that it wouldn’t.
And it wouldn’t. He wouldn’t let it.
“I… I don’t know if I remember everything that happened last night,” Mel said slowly.
Frank nodded. “That makes sense. Is there anything you want me to fill you in on?”
“Yeah, kind of.” Mel pulled at her arms. “I… I remember. Uhm. In the car? You said... I– I don’t know if I dreamt it or if you actually said it, but I have a memory of you saying you would have let me…” Mel’s face was a beautiful pink. “... kiss you if I wasn’t drunk. Was that… real?”
So she remembered that. Fuck.
Now, Frank had two choices: Lie, and tell her that she had dreamt it. This would spare him a lot of embarrassment, and would certainly be the better option for their friendship. The other option was to tell the truth, and face the consequences. This was what would be most fair to Mel, since she didn’t enjoy being lied to. It could also potentially ruin their friendship forever, which was not something Frank could really bear the thought of.
It could, in the 20% chance that this was not a rejection, lead to something he had wanted for a pretty long time now.
“Yeah,” Frank said. “It was real.”
“Oh,” said Mel. Frank braced himself for the rejection that was sure to come. The it was a mistake. The I was really drunk. The I just don’t see you that way. Instead Mel just breathed out a, “Woah.”
Frank almost laughed. “Woah?”
Mel let out a surprised laugh too. “Yeah. I–” She put a hand over her mouth, blushing. “Really?” She removed her hand, revealing a blinding smile.
This wasn’t a rejection.
“Really,” Frank confirmed. He moved closer to her, just slightly, so her knee brushed his thigh. Mel looked down at the point of contact, blushing even harder. “In fact, I don’t think I would ever stop you from kissing me unless you were in a state where you couldn’t consent.”
Mel started giggling. A breathy, excited noise that made Frank’s insides turn. Carefully, giving her time to move away, he placed a hand on her thigh. She let out a small gasp at the contact, suddenly growing more serious. She looked up at him, then his hand on her thigh, then back up at him, eyes slightly hooded by her lashes.
“So…” Mel leaned a little closer, her knee digging into his thigh, her arm coming up on the back of the couch so she could put a hand on his shoulder. Her fingers slowly tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck. The touch sent a shiver down his spine. “You wouldn’t– You wouldn’t mind if…?”
They would have to talk about this. What this meant, how she felt about him, how he felt about her, how serious they wanted this to be. God, he really fucking hoped Mel wanted something serious.
Still. They would have to go slow. Like, really slow. He was thankfully over a year sober — Mel had brought him a cupcake from a bakery close to the hospital to celebrate the day it happened, and he’d almost started crying— but not much more than a year. Getting into a new relationship was still not the best idea, especially considering the fact that he’d been divorced for less than half a year. For his sake, for Mel’s sake, for the kids’ sake, for everyone’s sake, they would need to go slow.
They would have to go to HR. He didn’t want to get into any more trouble, and he certainly didn’t want to get her into trouble. Robby would definitely not like this. But honestly? Fuck Robby. Whatever he’d been doing with Collins had been a lot more unprofessional than a relationship between an R3 and an R4 redoing his year. HR wouldn’t be too upset about it, would they?
Mel’s grip tightened slightly on his hair, and Frank was brought back to the present. To the beautiful woman in front of him, watching him with hope and eagerness.
Later, Frank decided. They could figure all of this out later. Right now, he had more important things to do.
Frank leaned closer, his nose brushing Mel’s. Her warm breath traced his lips gently, her eyes fluttering close. “No, I wouldn’t mind at all.”