Work Text:
Mel notices the way Frank is hunched over the computer before anything else. Notices the tightness of his shoulders and back, how his head–normally on a swivel–isn’t turning from the computer screen. He seems to be engrossed in whatever chart he’s looking at, but she can see the pop-up warning from where she is, knows it’s telling him he is about to be automatically logged out due to inactivity. Weird, she thinks, running her eyes over him again. His back usually hurts the most on the days after he has his kids, and he didn’t yesterday. Of course she knows chronic pain can be triggered by anything and everything, not just toddlers who love playing with their dad, who love bath time and being carried to bed, who love all the things that a bad back does not love.
“Oh fucking finally, Mel! Come over here real quick!” Mel’s path to Frank is interrupted, and she turns to where Santos is standing with Samira.
“Someone sent these to you. There’s a note too, which we haven’t read.” Samira says, looking pointedly at Trinity. Mel notices, perhaps belatedly, a massive bouquet of flowers sitting at the nurses’ station. Big red roses with tiny white baby’s breath spilling out of a vase.
“Someone sent flowers? To me?” Mel glances at the date on her watch, trying to wrack her brain for whatever she apparently missed. Her dad sent flowers, sometimes, on the anniversary of her mom’s passing, but that wasn’t for another four months, and he certainly didn’t do it every year, and hadn’t done it in years, now that she thought about it. She wasn’t sure he knew where she worked.
“Yes, please come over here so we can finally read this fucking note.” Santos holds out a tiny envelope with her name across it. “Apparently it would have been rude if I had read it before you got here.”
Mel can still see Langdon as she makes her way to them, and he’s straightened his back out, which is good, she thinks. Maybe he had a tough case earlier, and it wasn’t his back bothering him at all? She hadn’t heard of anything, but she’d mainly been out in chairs today and could’ve easily missed something, she thinks, frowning.
“Mel,” she hears Cassie say from behind her, coming up to join the growing group at the desk. “Thank God, we’ve been waiting like half an hour for you to finish with that patient. You got a mystery man sending you flowers?”
Mystery man? she thinks, scrunching up her eyebrows and making a disbelieving face, and reads the note aloud.
How am I meant to get through this entire week without seeing you? JV
“Oh, my God! It is a mystery man!” Samira puts her hand on Santos’ shoulder, shaking her excitedly. “Mel gave me so much shit when I had my mystery man, and she’s had one this whole time, too.” She laughs before turning to Mel. “Who is he? Do you have a picture? Where’s your phone?”
“Hell yeah, Dr. King.” Cassie smiles before leaving to join Princess in Room 12. “I’m glad someone knows how to meet people who don’t work in this building.”
Oh god, Mel thinks as she looks toward the ceiling, trying to ignore how everyone can overhear them, how seemingly everyone on shift right now is glancing over, some more subtly than others. Frank’s computer has fully logged him out, but he remains facing the screen.
“I do not have a mystery man!” Mel says, hoping to discourage some of the rumor mill before it can start. Realistically, she knows it’s too late. Knows that as soon as the flowers got delivered to PMTC, this is what she would be hearing about for a couple days before something more interesting happened.
She steps closer to Santos and Samira, lowering her voice before continuing, “You remember that guy from–” but before she can explain, Dr. Abbot appears from behind her.
“Mel, Mohan, with me. Santos, Langdon, grab Whitaker and be ready for the second ambulance. MVC two minutes out!”
Mel follows Dr. Abbot, thankful that all thoughts of flowers and mystery men are forgotten.
+++
Mel’s headed to the breakroom to finally sit down for lunch when Samira finds her and follows her in.
“So…,” Samira starts. She looks tired, much less energetic than earlier but a smile reaches her eyes. “Don’t think you’re getting out of telling me about this mystery man. I thought your interests–” she pauses, glancing around the room, noting who is in the room, and who is not in the room, before deeming it safe and continuing, “I thought your interests were focused elsewhere?”
“They are. I don’t even know why he sent those flowers. I mean, I do know–” Samira makes an exacerbated noise, waving her hand as if to tell Mel to give her details faster. “You remember that conference I went to in Chicago? I signed up before I started here, and it happened to work out that I could still go, with the keynote speaker who did their research on PTSD in patients who develop–”
“Yes, I remember.” Samira interrupts. “I would love to recount the details of the conference, after clarifying why this man cannot go a week without seeing your face. Like, I also don’t want to go a week without seeing your face, but I don’t think he means it in the ‘you’re my best friend’ way that I do.”
“We went to med school together, and we ran into each other at the conference. I was going through a weird time,” Mel doesn’t elaborate was that the weird time was, how the stretch of time after she started at the Pitt was clouded by a Langdon-fog that she couldn’t explain at the time. Not knowing if he was coming back, desperately hoping he was okay and that he’d be back, feeling silly for how he hijacked her thoughts after only meeting once. Samira doesn’t say anything but hums, and Mel knows she remembers.
“So, I was at this conference alone, for the first time in forever, and James was there.”
“And you hooked up! Oh my god!” Any trace of tiredness has left Samira as she grins. “I thought you didn’t do one night stands? How was it?”
“Well, technically it wasn’t one night. It was a few nights in a row,” Mel laughs at Samira’s stunned face. “What!? It was fun, it was good for the most part!”
“For the most part?” Samira asks, “Uh-oh, what does that mean?”
Mel groans at the memory. “He wanted me to beg.” She lowers her voice as the break room door opens, since the new med student who just walked in probably doesn’t need to know about what turns her off. “Like, kept stopping what he was doing and wanted me to beg for him to continue.”
Samira raises her eyebrows. “I mean,” she thinks about it for a second, “that could be pretty sexy. Teasing is hot and that’s kinda in the same neighborhood. Except maybe I’d like him to be begging me.”
“That can work for you and Jack because you’re in a relationship with him. You know him and trust him. Not what I want to do during a three night stand.” Mel checks her watch, knowing they’re already pushing their luck getting a break this long. “But he sent the flowers because the conference is back in Chicago this week. He wanted to know if I was going, or if I was interested in visiting while he’s in the area.”
“You’re off the next two days, right? It could be fun just to get out of town for a night or two.” Samira wiggles her eyebrows, laughing when Mel makes a face in response. “Alright. Enough mystery man talk. Finish telling me about the PTSD research.”
+++
Langdon’s standing in front of her locker when she finally finishes patient handoff and gets to the breakroom at the end of her shift.
“Hi,” she smiles and elbows him out of the way to open her locker, rolling her eyes as he feigns falling backwards. “How was your day? Every time I tried to catch you I got pulled on to a different case.”
“I had a good day. Well, not that good, considering we didn’t share a single case today,” he leans over to knock his shoulder against her and grabs her bookbag, slinging it over his shoulder. They share case details and stories of their day as they walk to Langdon’s car. Mel buckles in and feels her body relax as she watches him drive, grateful that she was wrong when she thought Langdon was having a rough day.
He’s halfway through a story about a 53 year old who came in after an allergic reaction to a bee sting when she gasps.
“What? What happened?” Langdon eases up on the gas, looking over at her.
“I forgot my flowers! Oh no, Becca will be so disappointed. I wanted to bring them to her,” she frowns. “I completely forgot.”
“Oh Jesus, Mel,” Langdon places one hand on his neck, checking his pulse. “That scared the fuck out of me. I thought something had happened.”
“You distracted me. I meant to grab them on our way out.” Mel turns to face him and frowns, reaching out to pull his hand from where he’s timing his pulse. “That did not scare you. Nothing I could do right now is scarier than the way you drive.”
“How dare you?” Langdon says indignantly, continues over her laughter. “Over a full year of driving you around and one accident is all I ever hear about, which the police report clearly stated was not my fault. And calling it an accident is being generous, we weren’t even late for work!”
Langdon looks over at her and god, sometimes he’ll look at her while laughing, eyes bright, and it makes her feel like she’s able to fill her lungs for the first time in days. She takes a deep breath as he pretends to rant and holds it for a moment, squeezing her hands together before breathing out.
“Oh a full year of driving me around? You’re right, I’ll take the bus tomorrow.” Mel tries to make her face as neutral as possible, trying to will the laughter out of her voice. They’ve had this conversation before, Mel suggesting he doesn’t need to pick her up every single day they work a shift together and Frank’s offense at the thought.
“Oh, come on now,” Langdon rolls his eyes. “You are trying to hurt my feelings today. I’ll tell you what? I’ll keep driving you. You can keep bringing up the accident and in exchange, I will politely remind you that it lead to the perfect day.”
Mel covers her smile, and knows he’s right. Someone hit Langdon’s car in the parking lot outside the hospital. He had been fully stopped and the car’s damage was all superficial. They only had to file the police report because Robby saw it and needed to make sure everything was above board with HR since Langdon had only been back a couple months when it happened. The next week they dropped his car off at a bodyshop and caught the bus to hangout at the park across town, which turned into getting dinner and watching movies at Mel’s place. It was the first time they spent a full day outside of work together, and Mel’s smile widens at the memory.
“Speaking of, though,” Langdon clears his throat and turns back to the road before asking. “What’s that all about?”
“What’s your bad driving record all about?”
“The flowers,” Langdon looks serious, and the sudden change in tone takes Mel by surprise.
“Oh, I should’ve brought them home for Becca. She thinks roses are romantic.”
“You know what I mean, Mel. I know Becca thinks roses are romantic, and I know that you don’t. I had to spend all day hearing about your mystery man trying to get through the week without you. It was kind of all anybody was talking about today, even the med students.” Langdon pauses, and if Mel had to guess, she would say he was trying to sound casual but he has one hand tight on the wheel, and one hand clenching on the gear shift that sits between them. “That’s what I’m asking about.”
Mel hesitates before responding, looking at the tension that’s appeared in his body, and thinks back to Langdon’s tense shoulders as his computer auto-logged out this morning. It didn’t seem like he’d been paying attention to what everyone was saying, but he could’ve been. Clearly had been.
“Oh, they’re from James. We went to med school together and ran into each other a couple years ago at a conference. The flowers were his way of trying to convince me to meet him for a few days in Chicago, since the conference is back there this year.”
Langdon clears his throat another time before asking, “A conference two years ago in Chicago? In March?”
“Yeah,” Mel is surprised. She enjoyed conferences much more than their coworkers and knew Langdon hated the one he went to last year. Why he remembered a conference two years ago, that he didn’t attend, was confusing her. “About patients with PTSD who develop–”
“Yeah, I know the one.” Langdon’s face is blank, his voice unreadable, but before Mel can ask for clarification, he continues. “And you spent the week of the conference fucking this guy?”
“Excuse me?” Mel’s face scrunches in confusion and shock. She usually loves how comfortable she feels around Frank, doesn’t feel like she has to pause to think through her responses and can say the first thing that comes to her mind. It’s usually a lot of fun, letting herself be messy without the fear of being misunderstood or judged, and it's one of her favorite things about her friendship with Frank. Now she wishes she could rewind the conversation to see how they got here. “What do you mean by that?”
“I’m just asking, Mel.” His tone makes something twist in Mel’s stomach, and she has never been happier to see her apartment come into view. “I’m not allowed to ask about something that the entire hospital is talking about? Are you going to go this week?”
“You’re allowed to ask me anything, Frank. You’re not allowed to be a fucking asshole about it.” She unbuckles before Langdon can put the car in park, turning to face him. “Maybe I will go this week. Becca’s at the center until Friday and I was looking forward to our movie night tomorrow night, but maybe I’ll go to Chicago instead and spend my days off fucking that guy.”
Mel leaves the car without waiting for Frank to reply, hurrying up the stairs and out of his view.
+++
Mel isn’t surprised to see Langdon’s car in her driveway the next morning. She had texted him last night, a very simple “Don’t worry about picking me up tomorrow. I’m going to take the bus.” before going to bed. Mel isn’t surprised to feel the same anger from yesterday boil back up, too. Last night, she’d tried to go back through their conversation, see where their wires got crossed, and they’d talk about it today. They’ve argued before, but this wasn’t making sense to her. She needed more time to figure out why he was having this reaction. Langdon really wasn’t someone who assigned morality to sex.
“Mel,” He’s leaning against his car door, and his head snaps up to look at her as he hears the door open, sounding miserable as he starts speaking. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I don’t know– I didn’t mean–,” He clenches his jaw and looks to the sky, taking a deep breath before slowly exhaling and meeting her eyes again. “Please, let me drive you to work today? We can talk in the car? Let me apologize for being an asshole yesterday.”
“I’m not ready for apologies, Frank. I’m going to take the bus and we can talk before I leave tonight.”
“Before you leave tonight?” There’s no anger in Frank’s voice this time. His carefully neutral tone is betrayed by a deep frown. “So you are going?”
Mel is about to clarify, before I leave work, I don’t want to go to Chicago, I’m not going, but before she can speak the bus rumbles around the corner in the distance. They both hear the bus at the same time. The pit in Mel’s stomach grows as she sees the sound register on Frank’s face, but if she doesn’t go right now she’ll miss the bus and she was serious about needing time to think before having this conversation.
“I’ve got to run,” she winces. “I’ll see you at work.”
She’s thankful the bus is crowded this morning, her view of Frank still leaning against his car blocked by strangers as the bus carries her to work.
+++
“Dr. King?” Mel is focusing on washing her hands when a med student she’s never seen before approaches her.
“Yes? What’ve you got?” Mel dries her hands and holds a hand out for the chart the med student is holding. “We haven’t met yet, but you can call me Mel, if you’d like. Everyone does.”
“Sorry, Mel, I’m Charles.” He keeps the chart tucked under his arm, and looks sheepish. “It's actually not about a patient. Um, Dr. Langdon, he, uh, he asked–told– me that he needed your assistance in the call room?” Charles’ voice trails off at the end, seemingly unsure of what his role here is.
“What?” Mel feels her pulse start to raise. She glances at the clock. There’s two hours left in their shift. They haven't spoken since this morning but she’d have heard if something happened, right? “Is he okay?”
“He seemed fine? I just met him yesterday so I’m not really sure–”
“Thanks, Charles. It was nice to meet you,” Mel gives him a thumbs up, walking out the door before Charles can continue.
What is going on? Mel thinks. She checks her phone and doesn’t have a text from Frank indicating anything is wrong. Which makes her worry more, because why wouldn’t he text if something was wrong? She knew they were in the middle of this weird fight but he should still text her if something is wrong.
She doesn’t have long to think about it. The moment she opens the call room door, an arm is around her waist, moving her so she's pinned against the door as it closes, hears it lock behind her.
“Frank, what’s wrong? What happened?” She grabs his shoulders, trying to put some distance between their bodies to assess the damage. She doesn’t see blood, doesn’t see anything indicating he’d been hurt.
“Mel, baby, please don’t go to Chicago tonight.” Frank pleads, one hand coming up to cradle the back of her head while the other brushes her jaw, up around to her cheeks. “I’m sorry about everything I said, I just–”
“What? Langdon? Is that what this is about?” She knows he can hear the confusion in her voice, and he must think she’s about to tell him to stop trying to talk to her again, because he cuts in before she can continue.
“Mel, please, just let me explain, I just need a minute. I know what I said was out of line. I promise I am not trying to be a sexist asshole who thinks women can’t have sex, or shouldn’t have casual sex, or anything like that. It’s just that the thought of you–” Langdon cuts himself off and drops his head onto her shoulder. “I, uh, can admit I freaked out a little bit. I’m sorry. I know I have no right.”
Mel hesitates, decides on saying, “I’m not sure how me having sex is different from any other woman having sex.”
She can feel him take a deep breath, their bodies so close that his chest brushes against hers as it expands. He exhales, warm breath on her neck causing Mel to shiver. At that, Frank straightens, lifting his head from her shoulder but stays close. His eyes search hers for a moment, before he glances down to her lips.
“Fuck it. It’s different because I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you for years.”
And then he’s kissing her. Frank Langdon is in love with her, and kissing her.
Oh, thank God, she thinks. And then she’s kissing him back. She groans into his mouth, smiling when she feels him shiver. He takes the opportunity to swipe his tongue into her mouth.
“God, sweetheart,” his voice rumbles into her mouth, deep, and vibrates all the way down her spine. She whines, and he’s right there to catch it in his mouth. Mel needs him closer, now, always, looping her arm around his neck to pull him closer, flush against her body. She drops her other hand down, under his scrubs to find the skin of his back.
It’s like he was waiting for her to touch him and once she does, they’re off to the races. Simultaneously, he shoves his thigh between her legs, adjusts his hand on her jaw to allow himself better access to her mouth, and drops his right hand to rest on the exposed skin at her waist.
She rocks against his leg, breaking away from his mouth to gasp at how fucking good it feels. God, they’ve been like this for maybe five minutes and she thinks she could come just from this; doesn’t realize she’s said it out loud until Frank replies.
“Yeah?” Frank kisses down her throat. “Jesus Christ, sweetheart, you wanna come? Give me one here real quick?”
“Yes, yeah, please Frank,” she feels frantic with Frank’s grip on her waist guiding her on his thigh but it’s not enough. “Please.”
“So fucking gorgeous,” he breathes, kissing up the side of her neck. His hand leaves her waist to dip down below the drawstring of her scrub bottoms, waiting for permission. Mel nods, frantic, but his hand stays where it is. “Going to need to hear you, baby.”
“Yes, please, please Frank, I need-“
“Hm,” he hums as he presses his forehead to hers. “I thought you didn’t like to beg?” And he’s kissing her again before she can reply, finally dropping his hand between her legs, groaning into her mouth at the heat he feels.
“You’re such an asshole,” Mel laughs. “You want to bring up another man right now? Want me to start thinking of other people while your hand is down my pants?” Mel laughs again at the look on Frank’s face as he pulls back in horror.
“Fuck, no. Only ever want you to think about me when you’re this wet,” he says, finding her clit with his thumb before sinking a finger into her, crooking it a few times and adding a second. “You’re so smart, so perfect, my perfect girl, only thinking about me when you’re about to come, yeah?”
Mel wants to laugh, but can’t with how close she feels, just nods her head in agreement. Either way, it’s true. She only ever wants to think about him. She says as much, and whines when Frank withdraws his fingers from her, catches her mouth on his, rubs the same fingers across her clit, impossibly wet and hot from being inside her and the perfect amount of pressure and friction and she forgets anything that’s not Frank’s name as she comes.
Frank keeps kissing her, mumbling about how he must be dreaming. She pinches his arm to prove he’s awake and he throws his head back to bark out a laugh.
“God, you kill me, King. Keep pinching me and I’m going to come in my pants, too.”
Oh, Mel thinks, that actually sounds like a really good idea. Frank can tell what she’s thinking and takes a step back from her.
“No, don’t get any ideas now. We have to be back out in—” he glances at his watch and grimaces. “—three minutes.”
“Oh my god, Frank,” Mel’s eyes widen in shock. “We’re at work.”
“Yeah, sweetheart, we’ve been here all day”
“We have to get back out on the floor! We both can’t be gonna this long.” Mel starts to untangle herself from Frank where they’re standing.
“It’s okay,” Frank glances at his watch again. “We have three minutes before we’re needed back.” He laughs at Mel’s confused look. They never get this long of a break without a crisis. “Abbot’s already here and I bribed Samira to cover for us. Obviously not if we were actually needed, but ya know.”
“Bribed Samira? With what?” Mel laughs again, and runs her hands through her hair in an attempt to hide what they’ve been doing in here for so long.
“100 bucks and I told her I’d cover her shift in two weeks on Jack’s birthday,” he shrugs. “I don’t know why she didn’t just request it off, it’s not like anyone is going to care if they both took the same day off.” He shrugs again, and starts to comb his hands through his own hair before re-tucking his shirt where Mel had raked it up.
Two and a half minutes later, Mel looks presentable and Frank still looks like he needs a cold shower.
“You go back out there. I’ll be right back out. I just can’t convince my dick to relax while you’re still in the same room,” Frank reaches to unlock the door behind Mel. “Give me two minutes to think of the most gruesome surgeries I’ve ever seen and I’ll be good to go back out.”
“Okay,” Mel pauses, suddenly unsure. “I’m going to get back out there,” she glances at her own watch. “But I uh, I will need a debrief about what all this—“ she points between the two of them, “—what all this means.”
“Hey, two hours and we’re out of here. We’re back on for movie night, yeah?” He waits for Mel to meet his eyes and nod. “Good,” he smiles as he presses a quick kiss to her hairline, reassuring. “We’ll grab dinner from that new place and talk it all out tonight, okay?”
“Okay, okay, yes please.” She smiles again and reaches out to pinch Frank one more time before turning on her heels to open the door. “See you in two hours, Dr. Langdon.”
+++
Movie nights with Frank happen at least once a week, sometimes with Becca, sometimes with the kids, sometimes all five of them, depending on their schedules that week. They only actually watch the movie if Becca or the kids are with them; Mel thinks they need to stop calling it movie night and call it what it actually is. Date night.
Frank absentmindedly selects a movie, and instantly turns the volume down to a three. Mel is about to protest, before Frank mumbles a sorry and clicks it up to a four, keeping it at an even number.
Mel watches as Frank arranges containers of take out on her coffee table. He ordered too much food, claiming they need to try a little of everything to really get to know a new restaurant. Mel hadn’t agreed but Becca loves leftover Chinese food. She thinks Frank knows this too and doesn’t really care about testing the integrity of the new Chinese place by her house. Her suspicions are confirmed when Frank instantly sets aside the container of orange chicken, Becca’s favorite, without pretending to be interested in trying it.
Mel suddenly feels impatient. Frank has been acting so casual since leaving the on call room hours ago, chatting about their cases as if they hadn’t fundamentally altered the course of their relationship earlier today. Mel feels anything but casual; she hasn’t felt casual about Frank since three hours into their first shift together.
Frank glances at where she’s started to press her hands together in her lap and leans back from the coffee table, twisting so he’s sitting cross legged on the couch and facing her. He pats his hands on the cushion in front of him and Mel stretches out so the bottom of her feet are pressing against his crossed shins.
“Alright,” Frank begins, while moving his hands to place one on each of her legs, running his thumbs over the exposed bare skin between her leggings and socks. “Let’s debrief. I believe I owe you an apology. And an explanation.”
Mel hums her agreement, pleased he’s finally talking.
“I was supposed to go to that conference in March. Two years ago. Instead,” he takes a deep breath, “I was fresh out of rehab, unemployed, still forbidden from stepping foot back at The Pitt.”
Mel’s eyebrows draw together, confused. They’ve talked a lot about those ten months. A conference in Chicago seems like it would rank very low in terms of importance compared to rehab and getting sober.
“I’m not sure I’m following, Frank. It was an educational conference but your sobriety is so much more important than any conference.”
“I care that you went to the conference,” Frank grimaces, like he knows what he’s about to say will sound bad. “I care that you ran into an old buddy from med school at the conference.”
“So this is about the sex? You know that I’ve had sex before. We’ve talked about my ex-boyfriends in the past and it wasn’t an issue,” Mel frowns. She thought it wasn’t an issue until yesterday, at least.
“It’s not an issue, I swear. I’m not trying to be the guy who thinks you should’ve never been with someone else. I want you to have everything you’ve ever wanted,” he shrugs. “It’s just– I should have been there. And instead I was at rehab. I know getting sober saved my life. I know it allows me to be a good dad and doctor–”
“Great dad and great doctor,” Mel interrupts. He squeezes her ankles in response.
“I know how sobriety has changed my life. I thought I had reconciled with all that being an addict has taken from my life, though.”
“Oh,” Mel is even more confused now. She obviously knows about the year Frank had to repeat post-rehab, a result of missing so much time, but has no idea how that translates to telling Mel he loves her and fingering her in an on call room. “I’m sorry. I think I need you to explain some more. I am inspired by the doctor you are, and are becoming. I like conferences; but you could never attend another conference and I’d still be in awe of your ability as a doctor.”
“I’m sorry. I’m not explaining myself well. I’m a little nervous here, King.” Frank laughs dryly. “I don’t care about conferences. I would actually love to never attend another. I just started thinking about the fact I was such a fucking mess when we met. It’s stupid, I mean, I was still fucking married when we met,” Frank grimaces. He’d been sleeping in the guest room for two months before they met, but still. Married. “And then everyone at work is talking about this man who you met at the conference that I was supposed to also be at. If I had been there we would’ve been going together. We would’ve been friends already. I guess I just–” Frank runs a hand through his hair and shrugs. His voice is quieter when he continues, “I love our friendship so much that I never thought about all the time we lost. Not that I’m assuming anything would’ve happened between us if I had been there, or that you want anything more to happen between us, and we can continue being just friends if that is what you want, Mel,” Frank can’t meet her eyes and sounds pained when he says it, but Mel knows he’s being sincere. He’d do anything she wanted.
“I guess what I’m failing to say here is this,” Frank puts his hands in his lap and meets her eyes, “I thought we were working up to something here. We go on dates and you let me hold your hand while I drive, you let me sleep in your bed. I thought it was all leading to you realizing you felt the same way about me. I would wait thirty years if I needed to. But then you got those flowers and the idea of you going to Chicago this week to spend time with another man made me so fucking jealous, Mel. It was like I couldn’t breathe. I’ve been in love with you forever. I thought I could manage keeping it to myself, I will manage to keep it to myself if that’s what you want. I just felt so stupid. I lost so much time being a mess and I missed my chance. That’s why I freaked out in the car yesterday. I don’t give a fuck about conferences, I care about you and I thought I was missing my chance again.”
Frank ends with a shrug, arranging his mouth into a pained grin. There’s so much she could say, Mel thinks. It’s a lot to take in at once. Frank is in love with her. He said as much earlier today, but God, doesn’t it feel good to hear it again.
“Frank, we haven’t lost any time at all.” She laughs, and the sound makes Frank’s smile grow into something genuine. Mel leans back on her elbows to scoot further down the couch, poking her toes into Frank’s stomach. Her entire body feels warm as Frank’s eyes drop down to where the movement has pulled her shirt up to expose her waist, before he drags his eyes up her body to meet her eyes again. “I’m in love with you. There’s no limit to the amount of chances I have for you.”
Frank’s moving the moment she finishes speaking. He rises onto his knees to lean forward and loop an arm around her waist, pulling her down the couch so she’s fully laying down, shirt riding up to rest right below the band of her bra. She moves her legs, letting him slot between them as he arranges his entire body to hover above hers.
“I love you.” Frank sounds like he thinks he’s dreaming again.
“I love you, too.” Mel feels breathless, and impatient, she realizes. “Are you going to kiss me again?”
That surprises a laugh out of Frank and it makes Mel squirm underneath him. “I was trying to be a little bit of a gentleman this time,” he smiles sheepishly, “but since you asked so nicely. Can I kiss you?”
“You’re so stupid,” Mel is laughing as she pulls on the front of his shirt, finally pulling him against her. “Kiss me, please.”