Work Text:
So I'll take care of you
And honey, you'll take care of me, too
It's magic when we do
So if you ever feel like falling through
Yeah, I'll take care of you
The stomach bug had run its course through PTMC, leaving complete destruction in its wake. Mel and Frank made it one whole week before it inevitably caught up to them. They’d spent the last 12 hours arguing over who was going to take care of who, when truthfully, they both should have just been asleep.
Mel woke up from her short-lived fitful nap and rolled over, already feeling the swirling in her stomach, when she realized that Frank wasn’t beside her. Her hearing caught up to her, and finally she knew where he was by the sound of his dry heaving echoing in the toilet bowl. ”Frank,” she yelled out, her voice hoarse from her incessant sickness, “are you okay?” She threw the covers off and slowly made her way towards the bathroom.
The toilet flushed and he walked out, his shoulders hunched, wearing nothing but a damp washcloth around his neck and a tan pair of pajama pants. ”Yes, honey,” he coughed, “I’m fine. Please just get back in bed and lay down.”
Mel walked towards him, taking in the sight of his sickness. He was pale, besides the flush on his cheeks. A sheen of sweat covered every inch of his skin, the dark strands of his hair stuck to his forehead, and his eyes were bloodshot from the aggressive vomiting.
Despite all of that, in her eyes, he was still the epitome of perfection.
She reached to press the back of her hand to his forehead, feeling the warmth radiating off of his skin before she even touched him. She moved it down to rest against his neck, his pulse hammering against her palm. "You should be the one in bed,” she stood up on her tip toes, pressing a quick kiss to his sweaty cheek, “I think I’m getting better.”
Suddenly, as if the universe was calling her out on her bullshit, she felt her stomach drop. Instantly, she pushed past him and took his place on the cold tile of the bathroom floor.
If she was being completely honest, this was the sickest she’d felt in a long time. The chills that settled into her bones combined with the heat that followed closely behind, the vomiting that never seemed to stop despite having eaten nothing substantial since she started feeling sick, and the splitting headache that brought along the feeling of her heart beating in her ears. But she’d never tell Frank that. All he needed to do was sit back and let her take care of him, despite the sickness that settled deeply in her body.
As if he’d ever let that happen.
He knew she was holding back from telling him how sick she was, but who was he to judge? He was doing the exact same thing.
He stepped in behind her, squatting down beside her and pulling her hair back into a pony tail with the blonde hair tie he keeps on his wrist. His back screamed at him in protest, but that was nothing compared to the pounding in his head. He’d worry about that later.
”I’m fine—” she managed before another wave hit her, “please just—” and another, “go lay down.”
All he could do was laugh, “You’re delusional if you really think I’m just going to leave you in here to puke your guts out by yourself.” He said as he laid a cold washcloth against the back of her neck.
She had no further protest. All she could do was let it pass while he traced his fingers along her spine, placing the occasional kiss between her shoulder blades.
Despite her stubbornness, she can admit that it’s nice to be taken care of. She’d gotten used to it by now, having him by her side through so much, but there was always that tiny but incessant voice in the back of her head.
You’re fine.
You can handle this on your own, you did it for so long.
You don’t need someone to take care of you, you should be taking care of him.
But in that moment, she wanted nothing more than to sit here forever and relish in the comfort that even the slightest touch from him brought her. So, she ignored that voice. She’d get back to him when she was done puking.
As soon as she felt she was in the clear she stood from the floor and made her way to the kitchen, Frank protesting closely behind. “I’m hungry,” she said as she crossed the threshold into the living room, “are you hungry?”
“I’m glad you’ve found your appetite baby, but you need to lie down,” he said, his voice hoarse, “I will make us some toast.” He caught up with her, wrapping his arm around her from behind and dragging her very slowly to the couch where he placed her down gently. “Stay,” he said, pointing at her as if she was a stubborn puppy.
All Mel could do was laugh at the absurdity of it. “Fine,” she conceded, “but next time it’s my turn.”
Honestly, a stubborn puppy isn’t very far off.
“We’ll see about that,” he laughed, grabbing a blanket from the basket in the corner and tossing it on the couch next to her, just in case she needed it. He grabbed the remote from the console table and handed it to her as well before making his way to the kitchen.
He returned shortly after, in one hand a plate with two pieces of toast—cut into triangles, just the way she likes it—and two small cans of ginger ale and a bottle of Tylenol balanced carefully in the other.
They sat side by side on the couch for a moment, close but not too close, their body heat was still too much for the other to handle. Of course they wanted nothing more than to be wrapped up in each other—hell sometimes they wanted to crawl inside each other’s skin—but they were both just so hot and so sweaty that it wasn’t feasible.
After a while Mel was hit with the sudden realization that her stomach was not agreeing with the presence of the toast. She stood quickly and made her way to the bathroom just as fast, Frank once again following closely behind, and they repeated the process.
When it was over they made their way to bed, climbing in and settling on their respective sides.
“I’d really like to cuddle with you,” Mel said, rolling onto her side to face him, “But, I’m so hot. And you’re so hot.”
“Thanks baby,” Frank said, a smug grin spreading across his face as he turned to look at her, "and yeah," he said, inching closer until his lips ghosted against her ear before whispering, "you are pretty hot."
“That’s not—” Mel huffed, giggling from the tickle of his kiss against the sensitive skin behind her ear, “you are…but that’s not what I meant. But thank you.”
Frank just laughed as he watched Mel blush and let out a big yawn, her eyes fluttering closed as she sunk further into the mattress.
The next time Frank woke up it was to the sound of dishes clattering in the kitchen, followed shortly by a wave of nausea. It truly felt never ending at this point. He made his way swiftly to the bathroom, finding the spot he’d spent so much time in already. He’d spent so long staring at the porcelain that at this point he could tell you the model number off the top of his head.
He could hear light footsteps heading towards him as soon as he let out the first dry heave, followed closely by the feeling of her gentle hands against his skin. Even as he was bent over, vomiting the contents of his stomach—or lack thereof—into the toilet for what felt like the hundredth time, the only thing on his mind was the feeling of her hands tracing slow circles along his lower back. He collapsed against the side of the bathtub, his head falling back as he tried to slow his breathing.
“I’m so sorry, Frank,” Mel said, her eyebrows pulling together as she watched his attempt at collecting himself.
After a moment of soaking up Mel’s steady presence, he stood slowly, wincing at the twinge he felt in his back. Mel took his hand to lead him to their bed, but he pulled back, heading for the kitchen instead.
“Frank,” Mel chided, her hand catching his wrist before he could go any further, “Get in bed.”
“No,” he protested, “I don’t want to.”
He might as well have been stomping his feet with the way he sounded like his children. Mel just laughed, because she could tell he was being completely serious. She tightened her grip slightly and gently pulled him towards her.
“You can get in bed,” she said slowly, “or you can sit on the couch. Either way, you’re not stepping foot in that kitchen.”
Frank groaned, “Fine.”
They made their way down the hall, Frank settling on the couch and enveloping himself with the soft blue blanket while Mel heated up some soup for them to sip on. His eyes felt heavier every minute that passed, and after a while he dozed off.
He woke up to the sound of Mel placing his “World’s Best Dad” mug on the coffee table before settling into the space beside him.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered when she saw his head lift off the cushion, “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”
He straightened, his arms stretching above his head before settling along her shoulder, pulling her in for a quick squeeze and a kiss to the top of her head, “It’s okay,” he replied, reaching forward and grabbing the mug, “I should definitely try to get something in my stomach. I’m getting really sick of dry heaving. At least if I puke again something will come up, right?”
“No promises that bone broth will taste very good the second time around,” she winced at the thought.
They sat like that for a while, Mel nestled into his side like she always did.
Her favorite spot.
They slowly sipped away while arguing over the value of a revolutionary war sword and belt on Antiques Roadshow.
“That’s gotta be worth at least,” Frank said, looking up while he crunched the numbers in his head, “fifteen-hundred.”
“No way,” Mel scoffed, “the sword is missing the counter-guard, and the belt is missing pieces too. Eight-hundred at most.”
“Yeah, but it’s associated with a colonel so that makes it worth more,” he took a sip from his mug, “you’ll see.”
Mel perked up when the appraiser said, “normally a sword in this condition would be in the eight-hundred to one-thousand dollar range—” looking over at Frank like she’d just been proven right.
“Normally, he said,” Frank laughed at her premature excitement, “don’t celebrate just yet.”
The appraiser then went on to explain that the significant connections the items had made it worth closer to two or three thousand.
“Ha,” Frank stood quickly, pointing at the tv as if he had just won a parlay on a hockey game, “see, I told you—” His celebration was cut short by the elevated pounding in his head. He sat down just as fast, his hands coming up to press against his temples, instantly regretting his ridiculous celebration. He could feel it in his eyes and knew instantly that it wasn’t going away any time soon. “Fuck,” he groaned, “I guess this is what I get for treating Antiques Roadshow like The Price is Right.”
Mel’s hand came up quickly to massage the nape of his neck, her fingers threading through the slightly damp hair plastered against his skin. After a while of just sitting there like that, Frank stood. Mel caught his wrist before he could walk away and he looked down at her, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.
“Where do you think you’re going?” she asked as she stood up to meet him.
“To get an icepack?” he answered slowly, one eyebrow lifting in amusement.
“No you’re not,” she argued, “sit down, I’ll get it for you.”
“Sweetheart—”
“Don’t sweetheart me,” she interrupted, her eyes narrowing and her hands coming up to rest on her hips, “sit your ass down, Langdon.”
“Woah,” he chuckled, his hands coming up in surrender, “yes ma’am.” he finished with a salute for dramatic effect.
Mel slowly trudged her way to the kitchen and grabbed one of their many icepacks from the freezer. With two kids under six you can never have too many.
A few months prior Tanner and Penny used up their entire supply on their razor scooter induced injuries. No matter how many pads Frank insisted they wear, they always managed to cover themselves in bruises.
Accident prone, Abby had said with a playful glare when she picked them up that night, just like their father.
“Lay down,” Mel said when she crossed the threshold into the living room. Frank did as she said, his head resting against the small throw pillow, his body stretching along the length of the couch. Mel brushed the strands of hair off his forehead and placed the ice pack there, watching his eyes flutter shut, humming as she pressed a lingering kiss to his cheek. “Feels like your temp might be down,” she smiled, “I’ll be right back—”
Frank caught her hand before she had a chance to walk away, eyes still closed, groaning in protest. Mel turned back towards him, one eyebrow lifted at his sudden objection. “Please stay,” he whined, “just for a second.”
The unfiltered despair in his voice made her heart ache.
“Of course,” she cooed, crouching beside him again, “I’ll stay as long as you want me to.”
Frank hummed as Mel’s fingers threaded through the hair at the top of his head, tracing small circles against his scalp. He was instantly comforted by the steady pressure she applied. After a while, he dozed off. Soaking in the sound of Frank’s soft snoring—a quiet reminder that he’s cared for and comfortable—Mel rested her head against his arm and followed close behind him into a light sleep.
A while later, Mel was woken up by the sound of her phone ringing loudly from the coffee table. She lifted her head slowly, her neck stiff from the harsh angle it had been in for the last few hours. She reached for her phone, the screen lighting up her face in the dark living room. Her eyes were so tired she could barely make out the Dana scrawled across the top before she answered the call.
“Hey kid,” Dana said on the other end of the call, “how are you two holdin’ up?”
Mel turned her head to peek at Frank who was still sleeping despite the loud ringing of her phone, “We’re okay,” she whispered.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” Dana apologized at the sound of Mel’s tired voice, “did I wake ya’?”
“It’s okay,” Mel assured her, “It’s time for more tylenol anyways and I didn’t set an alarm so you called at a perfect time. Thank you for checking in.”
Mel could hear Dana barking orders away from the phone, something about Ogilvie needing to check on his patient with an impacted rectal foreign body. Mel laughed quietly to herself, trying her best not to wake Frank just yet. She would need to soon and wanted to make sure he got as much rest as possible, considering how hard it had been for them to fall asleep and actually stay asleep.
“Of course,” Dana replied, bringing the phone back to her ear, “you sure you don't need anythin’?”
“Yeah, we’re doing alright.” Mel said, though she couldn’t quite hide the uncertainty in her voice. They were doing better, but it was hard to stay on top of things when they were both so sick.
“Alright,” Dana said, her tone clearly implying that she didn’t believe a single word Mel said, “don’t hesitate to call if you need anythin’. Make sure you’re gettin’ your fluids.”
“Of course Dana,” Mel chuckled, “thank you. Have a good rest of your—” Dana hung up before she could finish her sentence. “...shift.” She huffed and stood very slowly, trying her absolute hardest to not wake the sleeping beauty on the couch, who was now laying face down, the icepack abandoned somewhere on the floor.
It was so dark, she could barely see where she was—
Pop!
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she groaned.
Welp…she found the icepack.
Frank stirred on the couch at the sudden sound, his eyes fluttering open as he stretched, letting out a low groan.
“Hi,” Mel said quietly once his eyes landed on her standing beside the couch, “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to wake you just yet. I stepped on the icepack.” she admitted, her hand coming up to press against her temple.
“It’s okay, baby,” he yawned, his hands coming up to run through his hair, something he always did when he was tired. “Here,” he said, rising up off the couch slowly, “I’ll clean it. You can relax.”
Mel shook her head, “No,” she refused, “I popped it. You just woke up, give your body a second to adjust. I will clean it.”
Before she could walk away, Frank’s arms wrapped around her waist, pulling him down with her to sit on the couch. They sat like that for a moment, Mel nestled in his lap, her head moving with the steady rise and fall of his chest. It was nice, they could finally tolerate full body contact for more than a few seconds without one of them feeling like their body was on fire. Unfortunately though, there was still blue goo soaking into the carpet that needed attention, no matter how much they wanted to just soak up each other.
Frank slowly shifted her off of him, settling her onto the couch before he stood and made his way to the kitchen, returning moments later with a roll of paper towels and two glasses of water. Mel watched as he wiped up the contents of the ice pack, her arms crossed in silent protest.
“What?” He laughed when he caught the sight of her.
“You’re supposed to be asleep,” she said, “I made the mess, I should clean it up.”
Frank stopped what he was doing to meet her eyes fully, “That’s not how this works, sweetheart. I can’t believe you haven’t figured this out by now,” he laughed, “We’re a team. Whatever mess you make is mine to take care of just as much as it is yours.”
Her heart fluttered at his immediate willingness to take on her mistakes. It’s not like it was anything new, he’d been doing it long before they started dating, but it always felt nice to know that she always had him in her corner.
“Alright,” he said, grunting as he stood, “I’m gonna run to the bathroom quickly and I will be right back.” he reached down and grabbed one of the glasses of water and held it out towards her, “drink up.” he said with a smile and a wink.
“Thank you,” Mel smiled back fondly, their hands touching briefly as she grabbed the glass. He kept his hand out and she held onto it for a moment as she took a sip, his thumb brushing across her knuckles as he took in the sight of her.
Her hair was sticking up every which way. Her cheeks and the very tip of her nose were flushed bright pink, her eyes sunken in from the exhaustion caused by the sickness flowing through her. The straps of her tank top had completely abandoned her shoulders. She knew she looked like a mess. But of course, he still looked at her as if he was admiring a beautiful piece of artwork hung upon a museum wall.
He always did.
That didn’t stop the hot blush from spreading quickly to the tips of her ears like wild fire.
“God,” he breathed, shaking his head in disbelief.
“What?” Mel said, her eyebrows pulling together.
“Just,” his eyes moved slowly from hers, down her body, and back up again, “Every time I think you couldn’t get any more beautiful you always prove me wrong.” he said, as if it was the most obvious statement in the world. As if he didn’t know it left her brain completely incapable of forming a single coherent thought. Of course he knew. The effect it had on her was his favorite part. He watched as her eyes scanned his face before dropping to his torso, her mouth opening, then closing, then opening again. He just huffed a breathy laugh, dropped her hand and retreated to the bathroom.
When he returned a moment later she had disappeared from her spot on the couch. “Honey?” he called out as he entered the kitchen, his eyes landing on where she stood, her arms digging around in the freezer.
She spun around to face him, a smile on her face and a popsicle in each hand. “Are you feeling better?” She asked expectantly.
“Yeah,” he affirmed, “I think the vomiting has passed and my head feels a lot better.” He closed the distance between them, his arms snaking around her waist, his hands splaying against the skin exposed between the hem of her tanktop and the waist band of her shorts. He just looked at her for a moment, appreciating every detail of her face he had grown so fond of. “Thank you for always taking such good care of me,” he cooed.
Mel placed the popsicles in one hand, the other coming up to rest against his cheek, her thumb moving gently across his stubble. “Thank you for always taking such good care of me.” She repeated before reaching up on her toes to press her lips gently against the corner of his mouth. They stood there for a while, wrapped up in each other. The feeling of his steady heartbeat pressed against her cheek, his own pressed against the crown of her head.
“Okay,” Frank smiled against her hair, “the popsicles are going to melt.”
She pulled back just enough to look at him, a smile on her face as well, “Fine,” she huffed, stepping out of his arms and making her way back to the couch.
Frank walked in behind her but stopped in front of the tv stand, opening up the cabinet and sorting through DVD cases until he finally landed on the one he had his mind set on. They settled beside each other once more, quietly enjoying their popsicles while The Mummy played on the tv.
After a while their attention was pulled abruptly by the sound of quiet knocking on the front door. They looked at each other, confusion threaded through their expressions. Frank stood and made his way to the door, opening it slowly.
“Dr. Langdon, hi,” she could hear the sweet voice on the other side say.
“Hey, Emma,” Frank smiled, slightly confused, and stepped back.
Emma stepped inside, smiling brightly when she caught sight of Mel. “Hi, Dr. King!” she beamed, “Dana wanted me to come check on you guys, I hope this is okay. The whole way here I was like ‘they probably just want to be left alone’ but Dana was adamant that you guys needed the help so I wanted to just come check—”
“Emma,” Frank laughed, interrupting her spiral, “you’re fine. It’s very nice of you to come check on us.” he said, looking over at Mel.
“Yeah,” Mel agreed, smiling gratefully at Emma, “we appreciate it.”
Emma let out a sigh of relief, “Okay, good,” she giggled, “I was kind of worried I’d get here and you’d shoo me away.”
“Us?” Frank said, pointing between him and Mel before placing his hand against his chest in mock offense, “Never.”
Mel stood and made her way towards Emma, pausing in front of her, “I’d hug you but—” she shrugged, her lips pulling in a tight line.
Emma laughed lightly, “Yeah, I’d rather not catch whatever took you guys out,” she said, looking down at the bag in her hand before holding it out between them.
“What’s this?” Mel asked, taking it from her.
Emma smiled shyly as Mel reached into the bag, pulling out the two glass dishes filled with what looked like pasta in some sort of sauce. “That is my nana’s goulash recipe,” she said with a light shrug, “I can never get it exactly right, but she always made it when my brothers and I were sick, so I figured it would be nice for you guys to have.” Emma grabbed them from Mel and turned back to look at Frank, “I can go warm these up for you guys,” she said with a smile.
Frank shook his head, “That’s not necessary Emma, we can take care of that ourselves. You’ve already done more than enough,” he said, reaching for the containers.
Emma pulled them back before he could get his hands on them, “No, please, I’m already here. You guys can just sit down and I will be right back.” Mel snuck up behind Emma, reaching around her to try to sneak the containers from her hands, but again, Emma snatched them away before she could take them, “Wow,” Emma laughed, “Dana was right, you guys are difficult.”
Mel and Frank scoffed at the same time, “Dana said that?” Frank gasped in mock surprise, his eyes meeting Mel’s over Emma’s shoulder.
All Mel could do was laugh, because Dana was right. They are both pretty difficult when it comes to letting themselves be taken care of. It had only become exponentially more difficult with them both being sick.
She shot Frank a look that said, eh, why not?
So they both conceded, settling on the couch while Emma retreated to the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with two steaming bowls. She set them down on the coffee table in front of them before pulling her thermometer from her pocket, handing it over to them so they could take their temperatures.
“98.9,” Frank said after it beeped, handing it over to Mel who then took her own.
She pulled it back and read the number on the screen, “99.2,” she said with a light shrug, “much better than this morning. Thank you, Emma. We really appreciate you,” she added, handing the thermometer back to her.
“Of course,” Emma replied, a sweet smile on her face, “you guys deserve to be taken care of too,” she added, playfully pointing between them.
They turned to look at each other, smiling at Emma’s unbridled kindness.
“Yeah, yeah,” Frank waved his hand dismissively , turning back towards Emma who was putting her shoes back on by the front door, “really though, thank you. You’ve got a big heart, kid. Never change,” he said with a light nod.
Emma straightened and smiled graciously, “Thank you, Dr. Langdon,” she said gratefully, “I hope you guys get back to base line soon, we miss you at the Pitt.”
Frank chuckled as he reached forward, grabbing his bowl, “We miss you guys too, we’ll probably be back tomorrow,” he lifted the spoon to his mouth and took a bite, humming in satisfaction, “Damn, that’s good.”
Emma laughed as she watched Mel do the same, “Alright well, I’ll leave you guys to it,” she smiled, opening the door, “see you soon.” she said as she stepped out, the door closing gently behind her.
Mel’s head dropped instantly onto Frank’s shoulder, exhausted from the unexpected socializing. She wholeheartedly appreciated Emma checking in on them, of course, but she hadn’t planned on having to conversate with anyone other than Frank. She was grateful that he led most of the conversation, as per usual.
“I love you,” she sighed, taking another bite of the goulash.
Frank smiled down at her, “I love you, more,” he said, as he did the same.
When they finished eating they made their way to their bedroom, Frank settling on the edge of the bed while Mel sifted through her drawer for fresh pajamas.
“I’m gonna get in the shower,” she said, looking over her shoulder expectantly as she made her way to the door, “some company would be nice. Ya know, just in case.” she smirked.
Frank popped up from the side of the bed, quickly closing the distance between them, “Of course,” he said, smirking back at her, “Just in case.”
They giggled as they walked into the bathroom.
“I think that goulash cured you,” Mel quipped as Frank reached for the hem of her tanktop, lifting it off in one swift motion.
“Yeah,” he replied, his eyes glued to the little heart tattooed between her breasts, “yeah, it was the goulash. For sure.”
Steam filled the bathroom as they soaked up the warmth of the shower, and the warmth of each other. A peaceful serenity that only ever seemed to exist when they were alone together. Mel rested her forehead against his shoulder, smiling when she felt his lips brush against the top of her head.
Soon, the sickness would pass, work would start back up, and life would settle into its usual rhythm whether they wanted it to or not.
But right now, water cascading down from above them, their bodies pressed against each other’s in the small space of the shower, there was nowhere else either of them wanted to be.