nothing but you

by larry_hystereks

Summary:

mel doesnt like the holidays. yet somehow she finds herself crowded inside dana’s house on thanksgiving after working a shift. at least frank was there. she wouldn’t have gone without him, after all.

or: mel’s never had a friend before. let alone one she’s in love with.

Notes:

anyway this one’s for all my bitches with autism that try not have a fucking meltdown every holiday season

Mel never really liked the holidays. 

It surprises the people that float in and out of her life and she supposes it makes sense—she knows she has a sort of… general positive demeanor that people tend to equate with childlike characteristics. Annoying for her, sure, but it’s always been worse for her sister. Mel hasn’t gotten that voice used on since she was a teenager, but Becca gets it every other week. 

Well, aren’t you the cutest little thing! 

Such a smart girl for saying please like that! 

And more recently, thanks to the impending season looming around the corner: 

Be nice or Santa won’t stop at your house this year! 

Mel knows now how to bite her tongue and turn it into a polite smile, as does her sister, thankfully, because more often than not screaming a ‘thanks I’m nearly 30!’ in a strangers face in the middle of an Aldi didn’t actually yield any positive results. 

Anyway. 

Mel hated the holidays. 

She has her routines and craves consistency. As a child, it was tantrum inducing for them both. Sporadic days off that took them away from school, these forced extended family interactions which always resulted in she and Becca getting a funny sort of look (one filled both with pity for their parents and this gratefulness that it wasn’t their kids that had something wrong with them), and eating food that was always too dry, too rich, and caused many arguments about how they should just try, you won’t know unless you try. The entire ordeal, regardless of which holiday it was, always left her feeling off kilter for the days to follow and frankly itchy until she could settle back into her normal day-to-day; her classes, her after school activities, eating the foods she wanted, and ending the night in her own bed rather than her Nana’s cigarette smelling pullout couch with a spring that sat uncomfortably into her spine. 

Despite her and Becca’s complaints, their parents tried to uphold some sense of normalcy in their household as they were growing up. When the house would inevitably change with the cheap decorations that her Dad lugged up from the basement, she would scratch at her own arms so she wouldn’t tear them all down. Opening presents with eyes and expectations on her always made her want to throw up, and each year she’d have to deal with being scolded for not wanting to sit on Santa’s lap in a crowded mall, desperate to keep her own tears at bay while she tried to calm her sister down enough to get the entire public ordeal over with. 

(There was another piece of it too—that during these breaks, her classmates would run all over town, pelting each other with snowballs and building igloo forts down at the park closest to her house. And Mel was never invited. Nor was her sister. So rather than spend the time off using the short freedom from school to giggle and play and build these friendships she so desperately craved, Mel spent her days in her room, rotating through puzzles, and dolls, and escaped moments outside skating on the frozen pond in their yard, counting down the minutes until she could go back to the structure of being in school again.) 

After their parents passed, she and Becca stopped celebrating completely. There was no bird in her refrigerator and no plastic Christmas tree stored in her townhouse’s tiny attic. Her sister preferred to watch Christmas movies year round; the constraints never made sense to her, or Mel really, they were movies. You could watch them whenever you wanted, so why wait until a particular month or day? 

To the King sisters, holidays were ignored. Sure, she got candy to hand out on Halloween, but that was mostly because they liked seeing the kids in their adorable costumes. And chocolate. And sure she and Becca exchanged presents with each other on the 25th of December, but that’s because they liked showing their love for each other, not because of some religion or magical white bearded man in a sleigh. 

And sure, maybe there was another present too. Small and unwrapped sitting inside her nightstand waiting to be gifted to a person she still couldn’t quite believe was her friend. (And he was her friend, because he told her often, and never left her out of anything, and was first in her contact list even over Becca, and he was her friend and friends got each other presents according to her late night scrolling through friendship posts in the r/neurodiversity thread.)

All this to say that when Dana started inquiring about holiday shifts, Mel was the first to volunteer. 

“Thanksgiving, Christmas Eve, Christmas, New Year’s eve and day?” Dana had asked incredulously. “Hon, you deserve at least one of ‘em, you’re here too much as is.” 

“That’s okay,” Mel answered. “Just put me down for all of them, I really don’t mind.”

Dana hadn’t fought with her after that—it was impossible to find people that wanted to work those days. And Mel working meant someone else could have off; maybe McKay would get to spend the day with Harrison, or Collins could finally fly back to the West Coast so her mom could meet her new granddaughter. She’s pretty sure Frank asked for all the days off too, trying especially hard to be present now that he was actually here this holiday season. So maybe she could give something to them in this roundabout way. Maybe she could be of real use.

When Thanksgiving does roll around, Mel arrives for her morning shift promptly on time, dressed in her normal scrubs, no turkey-themed t-shirt or socks in sight. Just her. Like it was any other day. 

Abbot says hello to her the moment she walks up to the nurses station—she’s worked with him in bursts, first during the few times she got placed on a night shift, and then again more regularly when Robby went on his sabbatical. While she was initially intimidated by his teaching style, she’s grown to prefer it in time. Robby provides a sense of direct structure she enjoys, but Abbot trusts them in ways that let her feel competent in trying new procedures or leading a case. She’s glad he’s the attending on call today. 

“There’s a mom in North 12 that needs sutures on her arm,” Abbot tells her, handing her a tablet. “Dropped her casserole dish.” 

“Ouch,” Mel comments absently. “Hopefully she hasn’t been waiting too long.” The waiting room was already packed when she arrived and Abbot makes a face, acknowledging the day that this is about to be. 

“We’ll handle it, Dr. King, or we won’t. They’ll still be sitting here no matter how quickly we see them,” Abbot huffs, mostly to himself. It took her more than a few interactions to learn his gripes were never personally directed at her but still, it takes a commendable amount of effort for her not to bristle. “If you need me I’ll be setting Big Tim’s wrist again.”

He’s gone before Mel can ask how he managed to break it this time—a frequent flyer, former vet and full time alcoholic. Last time he was in here he rode his bike down a set of stairs and blew a .17 on the breathalyzer. It was impressive he had only walked away from that with a twisted ankle, but a very much destroyed bicycle that she recalls handing Abbot a five dollar bill for when he ran a collection to help replace it.  

She makes her way over to North 12 and her steps falter slightly when she draws back the curtain. 

“Oh.”

“Mel, hey,” Frank says. He’s nearly done with the patient's stitches already. She glances down at the tablet in her hands and sees his name is in fact on the chart. “I was wondering where you were.” 

“Here, apparently,” she says lamely. She didn’t expect to see him here at all and while she’s happy to see him, she’s always happy to see him, there are questions she wants to ask him that are far too probing to be said with a patient present. “Dr. Abbot sent me over, did you need any help?” 

“Uh, yeah, sure, grab me a wrap for Mrs. Keener?” he asks. It’s something he could most definitely do himself but she moves to get it anyway as he finishes his last stitch. He takes it from her with a smile that makes her throat feel sticky. “Thanks, Dr. K. You’re on a regular day shift today, right?”

She watches him wrap the wound and she hums when she realizes she hasn’t answered him. 

“Alright, Mrs. Keener, a nurse is going to be by with your discharge paperwork shortly,” Frank tells the patient, standing up, “They’ll go over proper aftercare with you as well, but maybe ask your husband for some help with the cooking, yeah? Otherwise I think Giovanni’s is open today.”

They bid her goodbye and fall in step next to each other back towards the board. 

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Frank tells her and she’s proud of herself for not tripping over her own feet. “I thought it was going to be me and the scalpel happy weirdos.”

“Who?”

“Abbot, Garcia, Samira, that new kid that sneezes a lot,” he says, to which Mel interjects, “Oh, Jason?” and Frank nods, groaning, “Jason. God, he’s not a bad doctor but we have got to get him an allergy shot or something. Or a face mask.” 

“A face mask is probably a good idea,” Mel agrees. They come to the nurses station and both stare up at the board, mostly minor cuts or burns, but she knows as the day progresses things will pick up. Last year it had been chaotic; Frank was still on leave and she and Samira spent the better part of the day debriding burns after a fryer had exploded over a family of twenty-seven. 

Frank is shaking his head at the board, muttering no’s under his breath, almost bouncing on his heels. 

“I thought you were off today,” Mel finally says, “You told me you were spending the day with the kids.”

“Oh, um,” he cringes, looking between the board and her and then back at the board, “I was but uh, we talked about it and Abby’s got them this year. Which is like, fine, cause I can’t cook for shit, and I’ll have them with her for Christmas—and that’s good since I missed last year cause….” he waves his hand, in a 'well, you know' motion, and then sets it on the counter, still staring at the board. “Anyway, it’s fine. I wasn’t with them for Thanksgiving last year either so maybe this just won’t be a holiday they have anymore with their stupid fuck-up father, so.” 

She watches the column of his throat bob as he swallows and then he sighs. 

“Sorry.” 

She’s gotten used to reading in between the lines with him, this lexicon of ticks and breaths and nuances that make her lean her arms on the counter next to his and slowly, as if not to spook him, rest her elbow against his. 

“I’m sure it’s really hard though,” she offers. “Being away from them today.”  

Frank finally looks at her and maintains eye contact for more than six seconds. 

“Yeah, it really fucking is,” he exhales, but then he knocks his elbow into hers, leaving it pressed there. “Is Becs at the center?” 

“No, she stayed home,” Mel says. It had been a slight argument, but ultimately Mel agreed with her sister that spending the day off routine and helping to make a dinner she would inevitably refuse to eat wasn’t the best idea for her. “It’s too um… it’s a lot for her to handle. All that change.”

“Yeah,” Frank agrees. And she can see in his expression it’s like he knows it’s too much for her too, but thankfully he doesn’t say anything. “Well, at least you are here today and since I still technically outrank you, I’m ordering you to work all my cases with me.” 

He has that stupid grin on his face that makes the back of her neck heat and she just sighs, feigning annoyance despite her racing heart. Her cheeks start to feel warm and she looks at the board instead, feeling silly. It was just Frank. It was just—Gosh, they were friends. Friends. She couldn’t screw this up when she spent so long hoping to find something just like this. 

“Sure,” she says around the weight of this… thing burrowing inside her chest cavity, “I guess we actually need to pick someone then, don’t we?” 

Frank barks a laugh and nods his head in agreement. 

“Yeah, yeah, King, let’s take the—oooh guy with a knife in his arm, that’ll be fun. Maybe it was…”

He’s off towards the waiting room before he finishes his thought, turning with raised eyebrows when he doesn’t notice her immediately following. She takes a breath, settles into a small smile, and goes. 

***

When Frank had come back to work at PTMC several months after his abrupt departure, it was the second worst shift of Mel’s medical career. 

Oddly, neither of her worst days had anything to do with Dr. Langdon, it just so happened that he was notably present during both of them. 

No one really wanted to talk to him. Mel saw it fairly quickly and saw how he curled in on himself, hunched over and to the back of the morning huddle like he was hoping he could blend into the walls behind him. He avoided eye contact with everyone which allowed Mel to… stare. He was skinnier than she remembered and his hair was a little longer and when he bit on the end of his thumbnail anxiously, the gold band of his wedding ring glinted off the fluorescents. 

He was kind to her on her first day, so she decided to be kind to him in turn. It wasn’t like she had made many friends in his departure, evident when they were the only two left standing after Robby stormed away from his residents. Trinity had all but dragged Whitaker towards a case, Samira had the gaggle of new med students on her heels as they made their way to the ambulance bay, and McKay was disappearing into a patient room with Javadi. 

It had left them alone and finally, he had looked at her. 

“Oh. Hey, Mel.”

She had thought he sounded sad. Gone was the doctor that was twirling around during a STEMI and cracking jokes that nearly flew right over her head and instead in his place was this… shell. 

Mel had also thought, it was nice to be remembered for once. 

“Do you, um, do you want to work chairs with me?” 

An extended olive branch that she could tell he was about to talk himself out of but eventually he had just blown out a breath and nodded, jerky and uncoordinated.  

He stuck with her that day; did the work of a first year intern rather than a repeating fourth year resident, but she didn’t say anything, only stood by him.

She found out during their brief lunch break that he was doing random drug tests three times a week, that he started and stopped rehab not once, not twice, but three times before it stuck, and that he was getting a divorce. She had stared at his ring which made his cheeks flush, but she didn’t pry because she had learned in her time here that people didn’t like that even if it was mostly just because she was trying to get to know them. He seemed grateful though, and turned the conversation towards her, how the past few months had been, how her residency was going.   

It was fine, is what she told him. She kept out that she hadn’t made the connections she thought she would, that most days she felt like she was back in high school, trying and failing to fit in, subjected to being the awkward dork her classmates, now coworkers, tolerated on the best of days. Instead, she shared with him that she and Becca got a cat named Greg, something she hadn’t told anyone, since nobody ever asked, and then they spent the rest of their lunch bent over her phone staring at pictures of the tabby. It was a nice lunch. And she could see the tension that had been tight in his shoulders finally loosening the longer they sat together. It was nice to know she did that. She was responsible for making his day better. That maybe this shift wouldn’t be so bad, that it could be good, and the start of something she’d been searching for since he left. 

It was, of course, that no less than an hour later that she lost a patient. A six year old boy who was brought in with what presented as an anxiety attack that started after some neighbors set off some fireworks. It was too late by the time she had discovered he had an undiagnosed heart condition. Suddenly breathing and then not, and despite her efforts to perform an emergency heart procedure that Garcia tried to guide her through over the phone, he was too far gone by the time she cracked his little chest. There was nothing for her to do but call it, to run through every detail in her mind from how long he was sitting in the waiting room down to the water break she took in between getting his blood test results.  

She had lost patients before but the father, in his grief, screamed at Mel, blamed her, threatened her to the point that security had to drag him away before he could put his hands on her. She had thought she deserved it. That security shouldn’t have stepped in at all. That maybe she was just a stupid incompetent little bitch that killed that poor boy. 

Mel stood outside for a long while after that, July humidity tacky on her skin, alternating between deep breathing exercises and crying. 

She was startled when she felt another person standing next to her, used to having these moments alone. 

It was Frank, which surprised her and didn’t. He stood next to her, his shoulder a breath away from her own, not touching her but there, let her have her emotions, and then calmly brought her back inside. 

You did what you could, he had said. You did everything you could. 

It was a bad shift. 

But it was also the first shift since his departure that Mel felt like she had someone, really had someone, in her corner. 

She knew then, she’d do just about anything to keep him there. 

***

By ten things start to really pick up. 

Several family members come in with varying football injuries, and she and Frank spend the hour bouncing between beds together trying to set multiple broken fingers and pop in one dislocated shoulder. 

“Christ, you guys don’t do things halfway, huh?” Frank laughs, wrapping a twenty-something year olds wrist. Tonya, Mel thinks. Thankfully just a sprain and she laughs lightly, settling back into her bed and Mel fights the urge to pull some of the lingering grass out of her short curly hair.  

“Seven brothers,” she tells them. “Seven. It was like WWE everyday. We missed last year's game since Teddy and Amy had their baby on Thanksgiving like assholes so we had too much pent up aggression this year I guess.” 

Mel had seen Teddy earlier with a large cut above his eye and guesses Amy was the woman bouncing a baby in her lap calling him an irresponsible idiot over and over again. 

“Youngest of five,” Frank snorts. And Mel knew he had siblings but not that many—he’d only ever talked about one of his sisters that lived a half hour away. “If we ever had a football game one of us would end up with a manslaughter charge.” 

“I think I’m actually the only one of us that has jail time,” Tonya laughs. “Tommy made out with my ex-girlfriend and I stabbed him in the hand with a fork. Fuckin’ cops were having dinner at the table next to us, what can you do?” 

“Hang on, Teddy, Tommy, Tonya…” Frank trails. 

“And Theo, Tony, just Tony, Trent, Tucker, and Tim. My mom’s a nutjob. Clearly.”

“No Tanner in the family?” he asks with a small smile and Tonya shakes her head. “That’s my son’s name, my ex got it from Full House,” which makes Tonya snort and he turns to Mel, smiling a little wider. “I ever tell you that?” 

“No,” Mel answers but she tucks away the new learned fact like every new fact she learns about him. “But that’s nice, Becca likes that show.”

“That’s because she has great taste,” Frank teases. “What about you, Dr. King? You and your twin ever go at it?” 

“Hm, well, one time my sister threw a dollhouse at me,” Mel finds herself saying. The girl nods like this wasn’t a unique experience and she too had been on the other end of being hit with a plastic barbie dreamhouse and Frank’s looking at her like he wants to both laugh and ask overly explicit details that she knows will make her blush. Thankfully, he refrains. 

Frank finishes the wrap and the patient flexes her fingers, nodding. 

“At least these still work, yeah?” she jokes with a smirk and Frank barks a laugh so loud Mel actually jumps a little. 

“Sorry,” he tells her, reaching to squeeze her elbow, which just makes her want to jump again. He lets his hand fall and then looks back at the patient. “Just take it easy, will you?” 

“Langdon, King!” Abbot calls and they both turn their heads. “Three year old incoming that asphyxiated on a bone, need some hands.” 

“Fuckin’ hell,” the patient comments but they’re both gone before they can say anything else to her. 

They remove their gloves and down new ones in tandem, both making their way to the ambulance bay in time for the little boy to be unloaded. He’s gasping repeatedly, tears streaming down his face with his mother frantic at his side. 

“Easy, buddy,” Frank coaches, rubbing the toddler’s back as they wheel him into trauma two, “You’re gonna be okay, just breathe, you’re doing great, champ.”

They get him hooked up fairly quickly and Abbot has the portable chest x-ray before anyone needs to ask for it. The small sedative calms the boy down slightly, but Garcia full-on groans when she sees the images and just how far the bone is lodged in his esophagus. 

“We need to get this out now, no time to bring him up,” she declares, “Mom, quick goodbyes, this bone needs to come out before it blocks his airway completely.”

The mom in question, shocked and red-faced from all her crying, kisses her little boy on the forehead, fighting back sobs as Abbot drags her out of the room as kindly as possible. 

“Langdon,” Garcia says, “Let’s set up for an endoscopic removal.” 

“Mel can do it.”

“Oh, um,” she blinks at him. She probably could but—

“Dr. King,” Garcia huffs, drawing her attention back to her. “You ever do an endoscopic removal?” 

“Well, no, but I saw Dr. Walsh perform one a few weeks ago.”

She told Frank all about it over lunch—uncrustables and carrot sticks and not nearly enough water—and flicks her eyes at him to see him trying not to smirk. Of course he remembered. 

“Great, then you’re up,” Garcia declares and it takes her a full stunned second to move, but once she processes what she’s said she positions herself next to Garcia at the head of the table. 

Garcia hands her the endoscope and Mel glances at the monitor, then at Frank who’s on the other side of the table. He gives her a small nod and she nods back, taking a deep breath to steady herself. 

“Right, okay,” Mel states. She sticks out her hand and Frank hands her the laryngoscope wordlessly. She’s done hundreds of intubations and the motions come to her easily, chords visualized quickly, the endoscope passing through right behind it. “Okay, I’m in, should be about three inches down.”

“Very good, Dr. King,” Frank praises, “You’re doing great.” 

Mel’s lips quirk and she watches on the monitor as the small bone appears on the camera, sitting perfectly sideways lodged inside the boy’s throat. 

“Let’s do alligator forceps for extraction,” she decides. 

“Good call, I would’ve used the same thing,” Garcia agrees. She passes the tool to Mel and then looks across the table at Frank, “I think she’s better than you were as an R3. If you ever end up back in rehab, she’ll pass you for sure.” 

“I don’t think making jokes about Dr. Langdon’s recovery is appropriate,” Mel bristles. She slides the instrument into the boy's throat, but still feels angry on Frank’s behalf. Protective. “Especially within the context of our current situation.”

It’s quiet for a second sans the steadying beeping of the monitor and while Mel keeps her eyes on the screen, she can see Frank’s lips curved upwards out of the corner of her eye.

“... Sure, Dr. King,” Garcia relents slowly. “I was only—”

“I don’t need another stint at rehab for her to pass me,” Frank interrupts, “I mean, do you see her? She’s our best resident.” 

Mel’s eyebrow twitches. 

“I—okay, extracting the foreign body.”

“See? Tell me you would’ve gotten that done any quicker,” Frank presses, and Garcia just makes an annoyed little sound. “You’re just jealous you can’t have her up in surgery.” 

“I think she’s fine right where she is,” Garcia says just as Mel gets the bone out of his throat. She holds it up proudly and smiles at Frank, then looks at Garcia. “Excellent work. Call me when we get our next victim and we’ll see what else Dr. King can do with her hands.” 

She’s gone before the bone clinks against the basin next to her. 

“Great work, Mel,” Frank tells her earnestly, “Now you just want to remove—yep, nice and slow, awesome. Did you ever actually consider going into surgery?”

“Surgery? No, I… I guess I didn’t.”

She considered briefly focusing on pediatrics but never surgery. It felt too… impersonal. 

“That makes sense,” he tells her. “You’ve always been so good with the patients.” 

He helps her get the boy situated into an upright position and lowers the morphine. 

“What about you?” she asks and at his quirked eyebrow she clarifies: “Surgery. Did you consider it?” 

“No way,” Frank snorts. He absently brushes some of the little boy’s hair back much like she’s seen him do with Tanner the few times she’s been around him with his kids. It was always such a contrast to see him being so gentle with them after they often spent the majority of the time climbing their father like their own personal jungle gym. “I don’t have the patience for that. I almost blew my brains out during my surgery rotation in med school.”

Mel crinkles her nose and he hums, apologetic. 

“Sorry, bad joke,” he acquiesces, “Not like it matters, things are better down here anyway, especially with you here to defend my honor and all.”

He’s clearly teasing but Mel nibbles at the inside of her cheek.

“I’m sorry if I made things awkward,” Mel says. “I just didn’t like that she was making fun of something like that.” Or you, she thinks. She mostly didn’t like that Garcia was poking fun at Frank. She knew too intimately how that felt, how often she wished for someone to just say something on her behalf. 

“You didn’t make anything awkward,” he promises. If it were anyone else she might not believe them, but with him, she always did. “I’d do the same for you. I mean, we’re a team, right?” 

He’s grinning across from her far too openly and while she’d usually assume he was joking with her, his expression reads as serious. Her hands suddenly feel a little hot but she nods, shoulder coming up to her ear. 

“Yeah, we are.” 

His smile somehow grows wider and Mel wonders if it’s possible to sink even deeper. 

***

They’d been working together for a month when Frank brought her home after a shift. 

Nothing had even happened really other than her own exhaustion. She had been scheduled for an odd mixture of nights and days that week when a bad case of the flu was going around and anyone who was healthy was scheduled wherever Dana could fit them. 

Normally she was okay running on a few hours of sleep and bursts of sugar but by the end of the week she was dead on her feet and fell asleep sitting on the bench in the locker bay.

She had been woken up with a gentle hand on her shoulder and Frank’s voice in her ear stating he was going to give her a ride home. Mel was too tired to argue with him, with anyone, and followed him out to his truck like a tired puppy, tail between her legs after being caught slipping on the job. She had also wondered how many of her coworkers passed by her sleeping form without a word. Why did he stop? Why did he care? 

He had never been to her townhouse before but when she rattled off her address he nodded like he knew exactly where that was. 

“Did you grow up here?” she had asked, and it had made her slightly upset with herself that she never thought to ask him before.

“Nah, but me and Ab’s lived in a shithole apartment a block over when we first moved up here,” he laughed. “What about you? Wait, don’t tell me, upstate New York, right? You’ve definitely talked about Buffalo before.” 

“Mm, I went to college there,” she said, then yawned, jaw cracking. She had grown up a half an hour outside of Buffalo but she doubted Frank had ever heard of the town so she just closed her eyes for a minute to rest. 

They had only opened when the car jerked slightly and she found herself outside the front of her house. 

“Oh,” she murmured. “I’m sorry I fell asleep again.” 

“It’s fine, Mel,” he said with a wave of his hand, “Come on, let's get you inside.” 

The car was shut off and he was to the passenger door before she could move an inch. He opened the door and helped her out, a hand in hers and then on her back to steady her, her backpack slung over his shoulder. 

He had helped her inside and she was too sleepy to apologize again, this time for the slight mess. It was the first time anyone from work had been here before since she had long given up on asking her coworkers if they had any plans after work. Greg meowed at them upon entering and she had just enough energy to pick him up to cradle him against her chest, kissing the top of his head. 

The purring was immediate and Mel smiled, nuzzling her head into his downy fur. 

She kind of forgot Frank was standing there and when she opened her eyes again she found him watching her with a soft expression that made her entire body warm. 

“You think you can make it into the shower?” he finally asked, setting her backpack on one of her kitchen chairs, “Or are you gonna head straight to bed?” 

“I have to shower,” she stated, because there was no way she was getting into her clean sheets smelling like hospital.  

Frank had taken her cat from her grip and nodded towards the bathroom. 

“I’ll watch him while you shower,” he said, as if this was a normal thing for coworkers to do. “How long do you normally take? I don’t want you to fall asleep in there.” 

“Seven minutes.”

“I’ll see you in seven minutes then.” 

“Right.” 

She had blinked at him and disappeared down the hall and to her bathroom. Despite her tiredness she felt awake, knowing Frank was sitting a room over from her while she was completely naked inside of her shower. It was stupid and juvenile but it’s all she could ruminate on as she washed the day from her body. 

When she returned to her living room exactly seven minutes and thirty-four seconds later in a hoodie she bought from the hospital gift shop and a pair of shorts, she found Frank sitting on her couch scrolling on his phone, Greg curled in his lap. 

“Hey,” she said, forcing his eyes to look up. “I’m uh—I’m okay now, I think I’m just gonna head to bed.” 

She pointed her thumb over her shoulder and she watched as he opened and closed his mouth several times, words clearly lost on him. He stared at her for a beat too long and suddenly she wished her legs were covered. 

“Thank you,” she continued, needing to fill the silence. “For bringing me home. And for making sure I didn’t fall asleep in the shower.” 

That made him smile and he had shaken his head, standing, Greg hopping out his lap with a disgruntled ‘meow’ and immediately stalked over to Mel to snake between her legs. 

“No problem, Mel, I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah? Get some rest.” 

She had opened the door for him and watched him walk back to his car, watched him stop and turn like he was going to say something… come back… but he didn’t and she continued to watch from her doorway until his truck pulled away. 

When she crawled into her bed, she wondered briefly what he was going to tell her. 

She only found out the next day when there was a note sticking halfway out of her locker with a phone number scrawled on it and an equally messy message underneath.

In case you ever need anything - Frank 

Mel messaged him before she went out on the floor, rationalizing that his extended kindness to her should only be returned. That they were growing closer, that it wouldn’t be… weird. 

She hadn’t expected the immediate response back, the smile that greeted her during rounds, the playful nudge that she looked much more rested. 

What she wasn’t prepared for, not really, was that it just wouldn’t stop. 

The texts, the calls, the little voice memos, coming over, hanging out, being together more and more and more and more. 

All of it. 

She didn’t expect any of it. 

She didn’t expect to become Frank Langdon’s friend. 

***

Several minor burns and a few sips of water later there’s a lull that allows everyone to migrate to the nursing station. Abbot’s watching the board like it’s going to grow legs and run away with Samira leaning on her elbows next to him, coffee long abandoned in front of her. 

Someone brought bagels in and she picks at a plain one absently while she charts, Frank sat next to her, spinning mindlessly on a chair. 

“God fucking dammit,” Abbot states, running a frustrated hand through his hair, “It’s snowing.” 

There are collective groans around them and Mel stands on the tips of her toes, peering towards the ambulance bay slightly. 

“I like the snow,” she finds herself saying. 

“Not for the ER you don’t,” Abbot sighs and Frank’s smiling at her, one of those small ones that let her know that he remembers the thing she just said when they talked about it before. She can’t even remember when it came up but then Frank nods his head at what Abbot’s said in agreement, sipping on his red bull. 

She knows snow means more car accidents, more slips, more head injuries. But still, she likes it, and in a way it reminded her of the winters at home. 

“I give it ten minutes before we get the first wave,” Frank says, finally going stationary in his chair. He migrates to fidgeting with the beads of the friendship bracelet on his wrist instead. 

“Fifteen,” Samira argues, “Most people should be inside for dinner by now.” 

Abbot groans again and tells them to get back to work, but not before calling a “twenty” over his shoulder as he stalks towards the South hallway. Samira disappears after him, leaving her at the charting station with just Frank, who noisily slurps his drink. 

Mel’s eyes flick to the noise helplessly and thankfully he stops, taking another, far quieter sip. 

“I like the snow too,” he says, leaning next to her, “Me and Tanner built this pretty epic snowman three years ago, well, I mostly built it and he sat there looking adorable. You remember that storm we got after Christmas?” 

“I was still in Buffalo,” she reminds him, “But it snowed for us during Christmas that year too.” 

It was the first Christmas without both their parents and she and Becca had sat by the window for the better part of the day with hot chocolate watching it come down in waves. They had cereal for dinner and marathoned Lord of Rings. The Christmas tree had never been put up and despite missing them, it was the first holiday Mel ever went to sleep feeling relaxed. 

“I want to take them sledding this year,” Frank continues, drawing her from her thoughts, “Erin might be too little still but Mel, you gotta see her in her snowsuit, it’s the cutest fucking thing in the world.”

He’s pulling out his phone then, scrolling frantically in the way he does because he has so many pictures loaded into his device. She types next to him until he finds it, phone shoved right under her nose. She draws her head back to look and then smiles wide, because he’s right; his daughter looks like a tiny pink marshmallow. 

“She really is adorable,” Mel agrees. “Her chin dimple really looks like yours there.” 

She makes a tiny noise once she realizes what she’s said but Frank just grins at her.

“I know,” Frank states proudly, and Mel snorts, her tension draining, “When’s the last time you’ve been sledding?” 

“Oh, wow, um,” she says, trying to adjust at the sudden inquiry. “It’s been years. We had a big storm my freshman year at college and I went out with some girls from my floor to sled down a hill but all we had was plastic storage container lids.” 

“That sounds like it was fun,” he says. “Are you guys still friends?” 

“No,” she scoffs immediately. She realizes how harsh that sounded and bites at her bottom lip uncomfortably. “Sorry, that was rude. It’s just, they um… no we weren’t friends. Or not friends now either, I guess.” 

She’s not quite sure how to explain that the girls had all disappeared into one of the dorms without her and she found herself standing at the bottom of a snowy hill by herself and had to trudge up it alone, cold, and wet, so she remains silent. 

“Yeah, I don’t really talk to anyone from college either,” Frank offers. “God, you remember that stupid sobriety post I made?”

She nods, because she did. She thought it was heartfelt and remembers liking it shortly after he shared it only to be confused why it was deleted a few hours later until he came in venting about it the next day at work. 

“My college roommate unfollowed me after that,” he tells her. He shrugs like it’s nothing but she can see the same hurt hidden behind his own eyes that she’s come to understand herself. It always took her by surprise though when someone like him seemed to struggle in the same way she did. “People are assholes.” 

“Yeah,” she agrees. “I still thought it was a nice post.”

She watches him scratch the back of his head and release a breath he’d been holding. 

“You should come with us.”

She frowns in confusion, raising an eyebrow at him. 

“Come with you where?”

“Sledding,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Her brain adjusts as quickly as it can to his sudden change in topic and she finally begins to nod slowly, mimicking him. “Becca can come too, she sleds right?” 

“Uh, yeah, I suppose she does.”

“Awesome.”

She doesn’t get to ask any more clarifying questions, because Abbot is rushing towards them telling them saying there’s an MVC incoming. 

“Wasn’t even five fucking minutes,” Abbot grumbles, “Four car pile up, let’s try not to kill anyone today, alright?”

“Aye, aye, captain,” Frank salutes, tossing his red bull into the trash. He grabs a pair of gloves and hands them to Mel and then grabs his own. She matches his brisk pace towards the ambulance bay and he nudges her elbow teasingly, “Maybe Garcia will let you perform another surgery, rockstar.” 

“I feel like we shouldn't be wishing to perform surgery.”

“Well said, Dr. King,” Abbot praises which Mel would think was a nice sentiment if it wasn’t immediately followed by: “There’s so much fucking paperwork when someone dies.” 

***

She went on a date two months ago and told no one. 

There was a guy she kept running into at Becca’s center, her age, also had a sister with autism. He was tall, had sandy blonde hair that fell into his eyes, and a nice laugh. 

When he asked her to grab dinner she said yes, only realizing much later he hadn’t meant it in a friendly way, but in a romantic one when he sent the address to a particularly upscale restaurant in town. 

She hadn’t been on a proper date since undergrad and the most expensive place she and her sort-of-college-boyfriend, Andrew, had ever gone together was an Applebee’s. She didn’t really know what to do with herself or what to wear and ended up showing up fifteen minutes early in a pair of blue jeans and a thick navy sweater that Frank had told her she looked nice in when they went for a walk the other day on their rare shared day off. 

It wasn’t a bad date, all things considered. 

He was nice and attentive, had a stable job as an accountant, talked about his family in a positive light, and paid for their meal once they were done. 

He walked her to her car, gave her a parting kiss on the cheek, and texted her that night saying he had a really good time. 

She had a nice time too, but the thought of going out with him again made her stomach turn uncomfortably. 

So she deleted his number like a coward and avoided him in passing at the center until he got the hint and stopped trying to meet her eyes.

She should’ve liked him. 

It wasn’t until the next day when she clocked in for work that she realized why she couldn’t seem to like him. When Frank asked her how her night was, why she didn’t text him back and ‘left him hanging’ in their neverending Words with Friends match. 

She couldn’t tell him about the date so she lied, made up some excuse about doing chores and falling asleep early that made her feel so guilty she had to take a break in the bathroom to cry a little. 

Mel should’ve liked him. 

But she couldn’t. 

It just didn’t matter that she couldn’t—because she couldn’t lose the one person, the only person, to ever really see her and care about her, over something so… silly.

So meaningless. 

She couldn’t. 

***

It’s a miracle they don't lose anyone in the crash. 

Three kids from different families all with broken bones but thankfully stable, a guy with a pretty disgusting crush injury to his lower body that goes through several units of blood to stabilize, and an older woman with a shattered hip. 

By the time Shen and Ellis roll in, everyone’s still alive and Abbot is telling them to clock out while they still have the chance. 

Mel’s more than ready to go home but Samira is still standing at the nurses station, fiddling with her stethoscope. 

“You okay?” Mel asks gently and Samira glances over at her, nodding slightly. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” she confirms. Mel’s not sure she believes her but the one time she pushed, Samira had literally burst into tears and ran to the bathroom so Mel bites her tongue. “You go on out, I think I have another hour in me.” 

“Oh, if you’re sure…”

Samira nods and Mel watches the girl’s eyes flit about the ER until she lands on Abbot who’s bent over a gurney and talking softly to a boy with a scraped knee. 

“Yeah, I should uh—” Samira tilts her head and gives Mel a small smile. “Happy Thanksgiving, Mel, I hope you enjoy the rest of the holiday.” 

“Thanks, Samira, you too.” 

Mel excuses herself to the lockers to get her things and frowns slightly at how notably empty it is. She doesn’t remember seeing Frank leave and it was unlike him not to be walking out with her, or at the very least say something to her if he was staying later. 

She wonders if he’s okay, then worries she did something wrong, but she can’t think of a single thing that went wrong today so she pushes that thought from her mind before it can burrow itself too deeply. 

They were…. almost overly close, sure, but it’s not like he had to abide by these new traditions she began to look forward to. 

Mel downs her puffy winter coat and shoves her beanie over her head, giving one parting glance around before walking to the exit. 

The snow outside is still coming down in flurries and she stares up at the grey sky for a second, eyes closed. It was fine. Everything was fine. He didn't hate her. He didn't forget about her. He didn't— 

“Mel, wait up!”

She turns her head and Frank jogs up next to her, his cheeks a little red from the wind and his hair is damp. He’s one of three people that braves the locker room showers—she had peered in there once and never went back in again. 

“You heading to Dana’s?” he asks.

“For what?”

“Her Thanksgiving party,” he clarifies and at her look of confusion his nose scrunches. “She must have forgotten to mention it to you. Everyone’s always invited.” 

“Oh,” Mel hums. She fiddles with the strap of her backpack, a little hurt, but then shrugs, “I’m not sure I have the mental capacity to… handle all that anyway. It’s probably why she didn’t say anything to me.” 

“I’m sure that’s not—come on, Mel,” he coaxes. He reaches out tugs on one of the keychains hanging from her backpack, a lego Donald Duck her sister bought her a few years ago, “You’re really going to make me show up alone? We’re supposed to be a package deal here.” 

That gets her to smile. 

“Please?” he tries, “For me?” 

She supposes it’s not the worst thing in the world, to spend more time with him tonight. It could just be dinner after all, and they did that all the time. 

It was hard, too, to simply say no to him. 

“Fine,” she concedes. “But I need to stop at home and shower first. I can meet you over there?”

“I can wait at your place, if that’s cool?” he says. He’s grinning a little wider now, like he was actually excited she was coming and it’s hard for her knees not to wobble. “Me and Greg have some catching up to do.” 

Mel rolls her eyes, smiling slightly, “It’s been four days.” 

They had eaten tacos after work and played Scrabble at her kitchen table. It was a good night. 

“Which is four days too long without my favorite cat in the world.” 

She shakes her head and she watches the snow stick to Frank’s wet hair, crystallizing over each strand. Her fingers are brushing it out before she really knows what she’s doing and his breath catches, fog from his next exhale swirling around them. 

“Sorry,” she mumbles, drawing her hand away, “We should go before you catch a cold.”

“Yeah,” he manages and his eyes look really blue out in the twilight and for a second she just stares at him. 

The chill from the air sneaks down her spine and she sways slightly, towards him, the warmth he always seems to radiate. 

“Mel—”

“We should go.” 

She turns and walks to her car, refusing to look over her shoulder back at him. 

***

Two weeks ago she fell asleep with her head in Frank’s lap. 

They were all working a double—apartment complex fire that required all hands on deck. There was a moment of reprieve where Robby demanded the day shifters find somewhere to decompress before heading back out. Patients were still coming in, but they’d need fresher eyes than what were looking at them right now. 

Mel and Frank retreated to the breakroom in silence. He wasn’t originally scheduled after working a night shift already but arrived in the afternoon with a red bull on his lips presumably after he woke up and saw the messages flooding his phone. 

He was overtly quiet when they sat down on the couch together, as was she, and she thought maybe they were both in a small bit of shock as the last two patients they worked on were very young twin girls, too far gone for anyone to help them. 

They died holding hands and Mel started to cry, unable to stop herself from thinking of her own sister. 

Frank was next to her, that she was aware of but the hand he put on the back of her neck made the floodgates open in full. 

“You’re okay,” he had told her, “Just let it out, sweetheart, I got you. It's just me.” 

She nodded through her tears and focused on the even weight of his grip, the thumb rubbing circles into the divot where her neck met her shoulder. She had shut her eyes and let herself feel for a second, emotions pouring out of her freely in the safety she felt here with him. 

When she came to, she was laying sideways, her head against soft fabric and there were fingers moving in gentle circles in her hair. 

It was nice, she felt warm, and she made a tiny content noise that stilled the fingers in her hair. 

“Mel?”

She realized all at once just whose lap she was laying in and her entire body tensed, her hand wrapping tightly around her own scrub top. 

“I’m—”

“You don’t have to get up,” Frank interrupted gently. “We still have like another half hour left before Robby will let us back onto the floor. You can stay there. I'm—you can stay.” 

“Oh.” 

Her body relaxed slightly, and Frank’s fingers resumed tracing patterns in her hair, a comforting yet confusing weight settling over her. It wasn’t the first time he… touched her necessarily. She’d grown to learn he was a touchy person—a hand on her back as they navigated the ER together or a crowded coffee shop, tugging on her braid to get her attention, a comforting squeeze to her shoulder or elbow after she lost a patient, grounding her, always pulling her back. 

But this felt different, more intimate, more… filled with something she didn’t want to examine. Because if she looked at it too long, it might all go away. It might all be taken from her. 

So she stayed awake the remainder of their time, let herself enjoy the weight of Frank’s fingers, the gentleness of his touch, almost like she was too afraid to miss a second of whatever was happening. 

***

They take two separate cars to Dana’s. 

She follows behind Frank’s truck, windshield wipers lazily brushing off the snow, continually staring at his This Car Climbed Mt Washington! bumper sticker next to a faded one that simply states Coexist in rainbow colors. 

There’s barely anyone out on the road so they make it across town in record time, despite both going ten under the speed limit. Dana’s street is lined with cars but Frank pulls up onto a dirt patch so Mel does the same with her Jeep. 

She hops out and meets him in the middle, ears straining to hear the sentence he’s already started. 

“—and if anyone starts asking you about sports, don’t bring up the Flyers or Dana’s brother-in-law will have a fucking fit.” 

“Who—what?” 

“Nothing,” he states and then grabs her hand and pulls her along with him, across two lawns until he starts leading them up a path. His hand is warm in her palm and every once in a while he squeezes, like he’s making sure she’s still there. 

There’s a few people on the porch smoking and one of them yells out a “Hey, Frankie, you got a new wife already?” to which he tells them very eloquently to fuck off. 

Mel just ducks her head with red cheeks and follows after him until they’re making their way through the front door. Frank drops her hand once they enter and she flexes it uncomfortably at her side. 

“You okay?” Frank checks, placing a tentative hand on her back. It’s loud in here but manageable and she nods her head, then shakes it to get the snow out of her hair. She wants to comment about what was just said outside but she has no idea how to bring it up without sounding a little insane. 

Thankfully, Dana practically walks right into them, an unlit cigarette in one hand and a glass of red wine in the other. 

“Awe youse made it!” she says in greeting. She leans forward and gives Frank a kiss on his cheek and sticks her elbow out to Mel to which she knocks back lightly, appreciative. “How was it today? Nothing too crazy I hope.” 

“Didn’t lose anyone,” Frank says, someone yells from the back of the house and Dana turns and shouts “Knock it off!” but Frank just keeps going, “Garcia let Mel pack a pelvis today.” 

“Oh yeah?” Dana smiles, “Good for you kid.” 

“Thank you,” Mel says, cringing slightly when someone walks past her out the front door, “Your house is um, lovely.” 

“It’s much nicer when it’s empty,” she jokes, though Mel is definitely inclined to agree. Dana looks over her shoulder again and calls out, “Jim, get the kids settled, I need a smoke.” 

Dana excuses herself outside and a “Jim” appears, clapping Frank on the back and shaking Mel’s hand with a little too much force for her liking but thanks them both for coming. 

Mel deduces that this is Dana’s husband, who’s a full foot taller than his wife, works construction and has a deep gravelly voice that makes Mel slightly intimidated. He’s nice though, asks how long she’s been a doctor, about Frank’s kids, takes their coats and tells them where the food is. 

It’s hard navigating through the home—it’s packed with people, most of whom are Dana’s family, who she knows none of but somehow Frank does and gets stopped constantly to catch up with varying aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces, and nephews. 

It starts to feel overwhelming and she can tell Frank is trying to extract them from this never ending stream of conversation but can't quite find the exit. When she spots Whitaker across the room, she excuses herself from Frank’s side with a parting squeeze to his wrist, dodging and shuffling until she’s at the makeshift buffet. He’s frowning very deeply into his plate, filled only with a scoop of sweet potatoes. 

“Are you okay?” she questions gently. 

He looks up in surprise but then relaxes once he realizes it’s only her. 

“Oh hey,” he greets glumly, then looks back at his plate and sighs. “My mom does the thing with the marshmallows too.”

Ah. She knew Whitaker couldn’t get the time off to go back to Nebraska, only managed to snag today. It makes sense he was homesick. 

“My mom used to do that as well,” she offers, picking at the sleeve of her sweater. And even though Mel and Becca both thought it was disgusting, Whitaker’s face lights up at her shared fact.

There’s several metal trays hovering over small flames filled with mostly foods Mel tends to avoid. But she grabs one of the plates with the three sections divided out, probably for the many kids here, and fills her first divot with a careful scoop of mac and cheese, the other with mashed potatoes and the last with exactly six pieces of broccoli. 

Whitaker is gone by the time she’s done and she grabs a fork and napkin, looking around the house for Frank. As she makes her way back towards the dining room, she sees Trinity sitting down with a glass of wine, deep in conversation with another girl. There’s a seat open next to her but Mel can already see the polite but meaningless small talk that would occur and keeps walking.

There’s another table tucked in the corner with mostly kids and she starts walking towards there, hoping to gather her bearings in the unfamiliar house when she finally spots Frank in the living room, sitting criss-cross on the floor, playing blocks with a toddler. 

He must sense her staring at him because he glances up and smiles, waving her over. The relief she feels is imminent and she balances her plate carefully on the way over then sits on the couch right behind him, plate in her lap, her right knee almost brushing his shoulder. It’s quieter over here and there’s a mom on the other couch, mouth open and snoring with a baby sleeping soundly on her chest. 

“This is Danny,” Frank introduces. “Can you say ‘hi’ to Mel? She’s a doctor too.”

“Hi Dr. Mel,” he greets in that cute little kid voice that makes Mel smile. He puts a block in his mouth and Frank gently pulls it out with a sigh only a father could make. 

“Hi Danny,” Mel returns. “I like your tower.”

Danny promptly knocks it over at the base and sends it tumbling, giggling wildly. Mel lets out a surprised laugh of her own and Frank shakes his head with a smile. 

“Alright, King Kong, let’s get back to work,” Frank says, setting up the base again for Danny to rebuild his tower. 

Mel watches absently and starts eating, humming appreciatively at her first bite of mac and cheese.

Frank turns his head at the noise, eyes her plate, and then gives her that look when he wants something. Usually she sees it when he wants to trade her for a vomiting case or convince her to go to the movies with him—two things she hates dealing with but just like those times, she caves now too. 

She wordlessly passes him her plate and her fork, trying not to think too hard about it when he takes a bite of her mac and cheese with the fork that had just been in her own mouth. 

“Fuck, that’s good,” he comments, then at Danny, “You didn’t hear that.” 

To which Danny says nothing, so maybe he really didn’t though Mel doubts it makes a difference with the various swear words being thrown around throughout the house. Frank passes the plate back to Mel with a quiet thanks.

“I should grab my own before it’s gone but I really do not want to get up.”

“We can share,” Mel decides and that’s that. 

They pass her plate back and forth while Frank alternates between eating and helping Danny with his block tower. It gets to a point where it’s over Frank’s head and Danny stands up, doing that excited toddler bounce that has Mel outright giggling. It gets knocked down again, mostly into Frank’s lap and he sighs, smiling with his hands in the air. 

“Seriously, Danny?” he teases. “I thought we were friends.”

“No!” Danny shouts, still laughing. Frank pretends to be shot in the chest, falling back dramatically into the couch behind him, but mostly on Mel’s thigh, leaning his face into it. She moves the plate so he won’t get food in his hair, blinking down at him. 

He’s looking back up at her, his gaze a little too gentle and he’s got this soft smile that makes her breath catch in her throat. She watches him trace the movement with his eyes and his mouth parts, but before he can say anything Danny’s mom is waking up. 

“Ugh, we have got to get some food in you,” the woman says groggily. She wipes the sleep from her eyes and Frank lifts his head off Mel’s thigh, sitting up straight again. “Thanks for watching him, Frankie. Have you seen Dan around anywhere?”

“No, just on the way in when he was leaving to go smoke a cigarette.”

“Bastard,” she huffs. The baby in her arms starts to stir and she shushes her, standing up and getting her re-settled on her chest. She takes Danny’s hand in hers, “Come on let’s go find, daddy.”

They’re left alone and Frank brushes the blocks out of his lap, stretching his hands over his head. Mel tries, and fails, not to watch. 

“You know, I was there when he was born,” he comments absently.  “Not like working,” he clarifies, “Erin was born three days before him and Abby was still in the hospital. She was born a whole month early, and Abby had PPH, it was fucking horrifying.” 

“Oh wow, that is scary,” Mel agrees. She knows they’ve both seen enough cases first hand and she can’t imagine how Frank felt seeing someone he loved suffer through that without being allowed to work on her. “I’m so glad they’re both okay.”

“Yeah, Abs is fine thankfully, and Erin got lucky, no health issues or anything,” he says. “Just a severe case of being a spoiled princess.” 

Mel grins, knocking her knee into Frank’s shoulder. 

“And whose fault is that?” she teases because she’s seen the way he was around his daughter. He was attentive and caring with Tanner too but the gentleness he held with Erin always made her insides gooey. 

“Listen, if you made the perfect child you’d be this way too,” he jokes, then he tilts his head at her, contemplative. “You want kids, Mel?”

She shrugs, then shakes her head, “I don’t think so. I like children but I don’t think I’d be a very good mother.”

“Mel—”

“It’s true,” she states, “I’m good with them in bursts, not full-time.” 

“I don’t really see that, but you know yourself better than I do.”

She hums, mostly to herself but Frank is still staring at her intently. She frowns suddenly, wiping at her face with the back of her hand. 

“Is there something…?” she mumbles, flushing slightly. 

“No, no, sorry,” he says, shaking his head, “You’re just—nothing, nevermind. You want to go find some pie? Dana always buys way too much and I need to get the fuck off this floor.”

Mel nods because while she didn’t really like holiday food per say, she did have a massive sweet tooth. When Frank returned, he found out pretty quickly that she could be bribed to take certain cases or patients if a pastry was involved and went as far to bring her an entire box of donuts to swap shifts with him so he could go to Tanner’s soccer game. She would’ve taken it anyway, but she had fun stuffing her face with Frank in the breakroom until their stomachs started to hurt. 

Frank moves to get off the floor and complains about his ‘frail old man body’ with those needy eyes again. Mel huffs in feigned annoyance and sticks her hand out, standing as well to help him up. He takes her hand and she pulls until he’s right there with her, his face far closer to hers than she anticipated. 

“Thanks, Mel,” he breathes quietly.

“N-no problem.” 

He squeezes her hand but doesn’t drop it, only takes their shared now-empty plate from her and starts leading her back towards the dining room. 

It’s louder in there and she winces at the noise, tucking herself neatly against the space between Frank’s shoulder blades to try and drown it out, eyes on his dark grey henley. They keep moving, Frank’s muffled excuse us, get the fuck out of the ways, guiding her until he comes to a sudden stop and her nose presses against his back as her feet work to catch up to her brain. 

“Fuck, you alright?” Frank asks, angling his body so he can move Mel in front of him. They’re in the kitchen now and Trinity and Whitaker are both leaning against the counter, sharing a plate of apple pie. 

“What are you tryna kill her or something?” Trinity says around a mouthful of food. “Come ‘ere Melanoma, you gotta try this.”

Mel wrinkles her nose and tries not to overthink why all of sudden she was against food sharing. She’s grateful Frank doesn’t say anything, only opens the fridge and leans the top half of his body inside. 

“She usually puts the—ah, here it is.”

He pulls out a container of pumpkin pie and Mel grins. 

“Some of you have forgotten Mel is a pumpkin spice fiend,” Frank comments, setting the container on a stack of other miscellaneous treats. He walks around the kitchen with an overt familiarity and nudges Trinity out of the way to find the knife he was looking for. 

“Fuck you, you’re not the keeper of all Mel facts,” Trinity says, which makes Frank bark a laugh that’s bordering on rude.

“Really, what’s her cat's name?” he prompts, which just makes Trinity squint her eyes and look at Mel in confusion, “Wait, you have a cat?” 

“Um, yes,” Mel bristles. “We got him in June. He was rummaging through our garbage and he wasn’t tagged so we kept him. His name is Greg.”

“You named your cat Greg?” Whitaker questions, to which Mel just shrugs, uncomfortable at their inquiry. “I love cats though, we had tons on the farm.”

“God, the farm this, the farm that,” Trinity groans. “Do you ever talk about anything else?”

Frank cuts the pie and then waves his knife at her, “Do you ever stop being a bitch?”

“Hey,” Mel complains lightly, to which Frank apologizes and then says, “Fine, asshole?”

“Better,” Trinity concedes and then shrugs, taking an overly large bite of her pie. Whitaker grumbles about the mess she’s making and Frank finally turns back to bring Mel their own slice. 

This time they have two forks instead of one, and both split the slice at the same time. They eat in shared silence for a second with Trinity and Whitaker and she wishes they were back in the living room alone. It’s not that she didn’t like them, it’s just that… she knew they were roommates and friends and did things after work together or with Javadi and Donnie and Mateo and even the new med students but never extended an invite to her. It was fine though, it’s not like they had to include her and since Frank got back and slowly but surely began occupying the bulk of her free time, she didn’t really feel like she was missing out on anything anymore. 

“You like it, right?” Frank asks, and she nods, the two of them digging in for another bite, “Dana always gets her shit from the same bakery, it’s like the best thing about Thanksgiving.” 

“Have you spent a lot of Thanksgivings here?” 

“Yeah, kinda,” Frank shrugs. “My family’s not big on holidays or like, being in the same room with each other unless it’s for a funeral. Plus six hours in the car to get to fucking Paterson? No thank you. And Abby’s parents live on some cult-adjacent commune in California, so Dana kinda took us in.” 

“So where are Abby and the kids today?”

“Her aunt lives down in Morgantown so she took them there for the day,” he replies, “I get them Sunday for dinner so it’s not the worst.”

She hums, “Still…”

“Yeah, still,” he agrees, then his mouth opens and closes more than once until he finally releases a little breath. “Did you um… are you doing anything Sunday?”

“I don’t think so?” she answers. “Dana gave me the whole weekend off since I worked today.” 

“Nice,” he grins. “Well, if you want to come over, I’m ordering pizza for the gremlins and we’re gonna watch Frozen. Again. You know, you broke T’s brain with that one, he loves Elsa.” 

“Sorry,” Mel replies, shoulders shaking with her silent laughter. “It’s just my favorite, it’s the—”

“Sisters,” he finishes, his eyes warm, “I know, sweetheart.” 

He takes another forkful of pie, too big so he ends up with slight bunny cheeks. Mel bites back her grin and Frank just blows air into his cheeks to make them wider, forcing a giggle past her lips. 

“Dude, we’re still here,” Trinity reminds them and only when Frank backs up from her does she realize just how close they were. 

“You were literally flirting with Alyssa right in front of Dana,” he says across the kitchen to her, “That’s her niece and I’m pretty sure her parents still think she’s just a tomboy.” 

“So what, you’re saying you were flirting with Mel?” Trinity fires back which makes Mel grip her fork in her hand. She looks at Mel, past Frank’s shoulder with a teasing grin. “You know, I can help you file a harassment claim if you want.” 

“Oh, har, har,” Frank deadpans. Mel can see the line of his jaw grow tense. “It’s real cute when you pretend to give a fuck.” 

“What the fuck is your problem?” Trinity scoffs, returning her glare to him. Whitaker looks like he wants to melt into the ground and Mel thinks she wants to join him. “Just because you’re spending Thanksgiving alone like a fucking loser doesn’t mean you get to be a dick.”

“And what the fuck are you doing, Santos?” he retorts. “Last time I checked this wasn’t your house either.”

“Frank—” Mel starts, but Trinity just rolls her eyes and deposits her plate on the counter. It clatters loudly and Mel winces. 

“You’re a prick,” Trinity tells Frank plainly, tugging Whitaker out of the kitchen with her. She grumbles under her breath the entire way and only once they’ve left does Mel look at Frank in confusion. 

She watches as he takes a deep breath to steady himself and then meets Mel’s eyes.

“Sorry,” he tells her seriously. “She acts so much like my brother Stevie it's like sometimes I think we’re about to get into a fist fight.”

Mel makes a face and she wants to ask about the specific words he said, why he asked Trinity why she pretended to care. Mel never really told Frank about the lack of friendships she made while he was gone, though she’s sure it was obvious the longer he was back in the ER to witness the surface level interactions she had with everyone. A part of her wants to apologize for being so embarrassing and another part of her wants to shake him and ask why he wants to be her friend at all when it’s clear no one else wants to. 

Frank draws her from her internal spiral and tugs at her elbow a little, grinning down at her wryly. 

“Tell me the story about Becca and the dollhouse.” 

“What—no, no thank you.” 

“Mel,” he practically whines. “I’m gonna eat this last piece if you don’t tell me.” 

“There’s an entire container still on the counter.” 

He looks at her flatly and starts slowly tugging the plate out of her grip. Her eyes narrow and she pulls it back, sighing. 

“Fine, fine, but it’s not that exciting,” she warns. “I don’t even know why I brought it up at all.” 

“Try me.” 

“Okay, I think we were ten? We might’ve been younger, I’m not really sure,” she starts, “My mom wanted us to have a Christmas party with some kids from school that year. I don’t really know what she was thinking,” Mel says around a sigh. Their mom had probably just seen how little they played with other children and thought she was doing the right thing. “But she, um, well invited everyone from both of our elementary school classes over to our house.” 

“Oh no,” Frank teases. “This already sounds like the start of a horror movie.” 

Mel takes a bite of pie and gives him a pointed look. 

“Anyway, it was very overstimulating for us as I’m sure you can imagine,” she continues and Frank nods, “And me and Becca had this dollhouse that we shared in the living room. It was pretty tall but it was light and… Becca picked it up and threw it at the back of my head.” 

“Ouch,” Frank offers. “Like in front of everyone?” 

Mel nods—she remembers the silence that followed from her stunned classmates, the angry tears her sister let out before running up into their shared room with the door slammed behind her. Mel had to stay since her mom made her stay, despite wanting to follow right after Becca. None of the kids ever came back to her house again and after a few months, the whispers in the hallways finally stopped too. 

“Okay, but why?” 

Mel shrugs, “She had a throwing phase when we were younger that I think even then she knew was wrong,” she tells him, “So when we were around too many people and she was feeling frustrated she, well, she knew I could take it.” 

“Oh,” Frank’s face falls slightly and her stomach twists painfully. “Did that, um, did it happen a lot?”

“When we were young, yes, but her regulation got better as we got older. It’s… difficult growing up on the spectrum,” she states plainly. “Especially when you had parents that didn’t really want to accept you were on it at all.” 

“Wait, they didn’t think you guys were autistic?” 

Her shoulders wiggle a little uncomfortably because while she’s never outright told him of her own suspected self-diagnosis, he’s not exactly wrong.

“They were older and they loved us,” she defends lightly, “But they didn’t really understand Becca’s needs.”

“Or yours,” Frank finishes gently and she wants to argue with him, to stick up for them but she can’t, so instead she just frowns. Frank pushes the plate back towards her, “You should finish this.”

“Oh, I don’t think I’m hungry anymore.”

“Goddammit,” he swears, “I ruined our pie moment, didn’t I?” 

“No,” she huffs, smiling a little. “It’s been—this is nice. Talking to you.” 

Frank blinks at her. 

“Really?” 

And she’s not sure why he seems so surprised, she chose to work with him as often as possible, usually spent her days off with him, and was the only person she hung out with outside of the hospital. He had to know that. 

“Yeah,” she finally says. “I always like talking to you. It’s… easy. To tell you things. I’m not… I’ve never really had anyone to tell any of this to.” 

“Yeah,” he repeats. “Yeah, me uh, me too, Mel. It’s… yeah.” 

She gives him a smile and he must not feel like finishing their dessert either so she watches him throw the small bit leftover in the trash. He pats his hands on his pockets and fishes out his pack of cigarettes, hitting the bottom of the box a few times. 

“I need to have a smoke, you want to come?” 

“Out front?” she questions, wrinkling her nose at the thought of all the other people out there.

“No out back,” he replies, then takes her hand in his again. He’s been doing that a lot tonight and she squeezes her fingers around his. “It’ll just be you and me.”

She nods her head.

That’s how she usually preferred it anyway. 

***

Three days ago Becca asked if Mel had ever been in love. 

They were watching Sleepless in Seattle and as the credits rolled, Becca looked at her expectantly, clearly wondering if her sister had ever felt something quite like Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan did. 

Mel’s relationships had all been brief things, quick, without fire, nothing memorable. 

So she had told her no. 

“What about Frank?” her sister had asked far too readily. “Don’t you love him?” 

“Of course I love him,” Mel immediately replied. Becca’s eyes widened and Mel felt herself flush from head to toe. “I mean, not like—you know what I mean. He’s… like you.” 

“Like me?” Becca questioned, her nose wrinkled. “You love Frank like a sister?” 

“What? No.” Mel huffed. “I love…” 

Him. 

There wasn’t a part of him that she didn’t love. He was kind to her, funny. He believed in her at work in a way no one else dared to come close to and bought an adapter for his car so they could listen to her music whenever he gave her a ride somewhere. There was a soft blanket with a texture she prefered draped over the back of his couch and an endless stock of her favorite pizza bagels inside his freezer. She loved that he was thoughtful. She loved that he remembered things. About her, Becca, his kids, random sports trades, or medical knowledge from the podcasts he devoured. She loved that he was silly. That his one goal seemed to be making his kids laugh, that somehow now that extended to her, even if she didn't always fully understand what joke he was trying to make. She loves too, that he never made fun of her for not understanding. Or for anything at all really. She even loved the parts of him she tended to hate in others—the loud uncontrolled noises or movements, the touching, the chicken-scratch writing with half-formed thoughts, the last minute plans he often tried to get her to join in on, even the way he left every single cabinet door and drawer open behind him in a fit of cyclonic wonder as he tore through his kitchen. She loved him. 

Yes, she had her sister but this was different. It was. And now that Becca put it under the spotlight, Mel could feel herself spilling at the seams, this love she held for this precious and unexpected relationship tumbling out of her with abandon. 

Mel never really had a place to put all the love she had. 

It was too much, these feelings, this care and adoration and a need for it to never disappear from her grasp. 

“He’s my friend Becca,” Mel finally settled on. “We’re friends.” 

“So you love him like… a friend?” 

“Yeah. Exactly.” 

It felt sticky in her throat, and too much like a lie. 

***

It’s still snowing outside when they come to stand in Dana’s backyard. The back porch light is on and it reflects off the thin layer of snow sitting in the grass. There’s an abandoned swing set in the yard that creaks slightly in the wind and old scattered plastic kids toys halfway to be buried in a sea of white. 

Mel kind of wishes she brought her coat but she tucks her hands under the armpits of her sweater, watching as Frank lights his cigarette. 

“It’s not too cold for you, is it?” he asks, taking a puff. “I promise not to take too long. And then we can head out, I just need to say bye to Dana first.” 

It is but she could bear it for a little longer. 

“It’s nothing like Buffalo,” she says, which is true, the winters there were brutal. She hops on the balls of her feet and smiles. “We used to ice skate a lot there.” 

“No shit,” he replies, grinning sideways. “I grew up playing hockey. I love skating, no one I know skates anymore.” 

There are a lot of things she wants to say to that, that they should go skating together, that she could definitely see Frank playing hockey as a child and even into his adolescence, but what she lands on is:

“Are you going to teach your kids?” 

“Maybe Erin when she gets the hang of walking,” Frank chuckles, taking another drag, “Tanner has next to no coordination. It’s a good thing he likes to sing because I don’t think athletics are in his future.” 

“Hey, I was the unathletic kid but I could still skate,” she tells him. “We had a pond in our backyard.” 

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” she hums. “Becca usually only liked it for a few minutes but then she would sit out there and watch me for hours.”

Smoke curls around them and Frank smiles softly. 

“Ronnie used to take me to all my hockey games,” he says. His older sister Veronica, the only one he ever mentions, who Mel’s seen in pictures buried in Frank’s Instagram who has a septum ring and a girlfriend almost twice her age. “I think by the time I showed up my parents were over the whole raising kids thing. Me and Ronnie are ten years apart so she’d drive me everywhere, she even took me to my doctor’s appointments.” 

“What about your other siblings?” she asks quietly. “Are you close with them?” 

Frank shrugs and makes a face, “Not at all. They uh, I don’t know I guess they didn’t really like me. Perks of being the youngest meant my dad never laid into me as much, so my brothers kind of hated me for it.” 

“Oh.”

“Yeah, sorry,” he offers. “Ronnie’s cool though, I think you’d like her. She went into the military for a little bit so she’d get her college paid for but now she’s a therapist down at her local VA.”

“She does sound pretty cool,” Mel admits and though their ages were different, Mel can understand what it’s like to care for a sibling in the absence of a parental figure. 

“I think she’s coming down for Christmas,” Frank continues. He’s not looking at her, instead at the back of Dana’s house. “You could meet her if you want to come over, you know, like if you’re not busy.” 

Mel tilts her head at him and Frank finally looks back at her.

“If you want,” he tells her. Which is what he told her earlier when he asked about her coming over this weekend for his belated Thanksgiving with the kids. And she did want, holiday be damned. “I know it’s a lot of… change. But I can just order takeout and get you the orange chicken you like and—”

“Frank,” she interrupts. “That would be really nice.”

“…Yeah?”

“Yes,” she affirms. He’s standing close enough that she can knock her knuckles against his arm, so she does. “That stuff isn’t that bad when you’re there.” 

“It’s not?” 

He squints at her in the low light like he doesn’t quite believe her and she shrugs. 

“I trust you,” she explains. “To not, you know. Make fun of me.”

“I don’t know how much you should,” he says, a teasing hilt to his voice but his eyes are warm. “Ronnie loves to ask overly invasive personal questions. And is a horrible baker but will still expect you to try whatever monstrosity she brings. It’s like, vital, that you tell her it’s good.” 

“Really?” Mel chuckles. “Or what?” 

“Honestly? I have no idea,” Frank snorts. He takes a final drag of his cigarette and he tosses the bud into the snow, smoke fizzling in the condensation. “But I really don’t want to find out. Especially with you.” 

She shivers slightly at the breeze or the words, she’s not even sure. Frank makes a noise like her discomfort physically pains him and throws his arm around her shoulders, drawing her towards him. 

It’s involuntary the way she curls her body into his and he wraps his other arm around her at her waist, swaying her slightly. 

“We can go inside,” he offers above her. He smells like smoke and pumpkin pie and the irish spring soap they keep in their hospital showers. “And leave. Maybe steal Dana’s pie.” 

“Mm, in a minute.”

She presses her face into his shoulder, breathing him in a little deeper and warming her nose in the process. It feels nice to be held like this and while she’s aware anyone could walk outside and see them, she doesn’t really care. She wants him to keep touching her. 

She’s tucked under the crook of his arm and as she peers up, she’s aware of how close they are. He’s staring at her already, his eyes intense and still so light even under the night sky. She can see the condensation from their shared breath and she wants to say something, anything, but he beats her to it. 

“You look really beautiful tonight,” he tells her. “I mean, you look beautiful all the time. But the green,” he says, tugging lightly on the front of her sweater, “It um, really brings out your eyes.” 

“Oh.”

“Sorry, I just… I wanted you to know that.”

“Thanks,” she manages around the cotton crowding her throat, “I think you look beautiful all the time too.” 

Frank blinks at her once, lips parting and her eyes flick down helplessly to watch his tongue poke out to wet them. 

“Mel…”

She’s not sure who moves first, all she knows is one second she’s admiring the dimple in his chin and the next she’s got her mouth on his. 

It’s tentative and barely a kiss at all, like they’re both too afraid to spook the other, but she curls her hand into the front of his shirt and gasps, lips parting and tentatively tracing her tongue along his. The floodgates open and his hesitation quickly becomes desperation, a groan from deep in his chest that nearly makes her fall over and a hand on her face, his thumb on her jaw to coax it open further. She moves with him gladly and tastes the smoke from his cigarette and the pie they had been sharing earlier on his tongue. Despite the chill, her body is aflame and she stands on the tips of her toes under the crunch of fresh fallen snow, kissing him just as deeply as he kisses her. 

Her hand snakes around his back and under his sweater, the coldness of her fingers on his bare skin making him whimper into her mouth. She tenses all at once and pulls back, staring at him with wide eyes. 

“Frank—”

“That was—”

“We shouldn’t have done that.”

He blinks at her, mouth opening with a quiet pop. His lips are tinged red and she touches them with the tips of her fingers, unable to make the jumbled mess of her mind form a thought quick enough to speak it. 

“What do you…” Frank starts. “What do you mean?”

She draws her hand away from his mouth and feels the back of her eyes heat, the telltale of tears starting to form. Mel pulls back from him but Frank doesn’t release his hold on her, keeping her from fully breaking them apart. It doesn’t really surprise her—he was the only one that ever fought to make her stay. 

“Mel.”

“I don’t want to stop being your friend,” she rushes. His eyebrows draw together in confusion and she can feel her bottom lip tremble. “You’re too important and now I’ve gone and… and….”

“Hey, hey,” Frank says, moving her face with his hand to force her to look at him. “On what fucking planet would I ever stop being friends with you?” 

“Um.”

“Sorry, I mean…” he trails. “I’m trying to say that I won’t stop being your friend. I’m always going to be your friend, Mel.” 

She can feel a few of the tears escape, for a new reason this time, and Frank wipes at one with his thumb. 

“I’m not used to this,” she mumbles. “You’re too… this is too special and—”

“I know,” he promises. “I feel the same, I just—I just think that maybe we could be friends and something… more,” he continues slowly. “If you want.”

“More.”

“Yeah.” 

“I’m going to need you to be more specific.” 

Frank releases a laugh, warm breath causing her glasses to fog up for a moment so she misses the quick movement he makes that ends with his lips on her forehead. 

“God, you’re so…” he says into her skin. He’s so close she can feel him swallow, the steading breath he takes above her. “Okay, we should go out together. Romantically. Because I like going out with you already. And spending time with you. I love spending time with you. But I also really like kissing you. And would like to do it a lot more. If that’s something you want too.” 

Mel inhales. 

“How’s that?” he asks, pulling her close enough that her nose pushes into his neck. “Specific enough for you?” 

“You want to be my friend…” she clarifies again. “And more.”

“A lot more,” he confirms. “If that’s what you want too.” 

Mel hums, allowing herself to start moving her hand again under Frank’s sweater. She feels him tense briefly and then relax, his grip on her shoulder tightening. 

“I’ve never really had any friends before,” Mel whispers into the safety of his neck. “Not like this. Not one that I… I’m not really sure what comes next.” 

“Me either,” Frank tells her. His other arm comes around her so he can hug her fully and she feels another kiss get pressed to her hairline. This is nice, she thinks. More is nice. “We’re pretty smart though. I think we can probably figure it out together.” 

She likes how that sounds and grins, burying her nose fully into Frank’s neck, glasses skewed, tears undoubtedly still staining her cheeks, both her hands now seeking warmth under Frank’s sweater to tangle them fully together. 

“I’m really glad you’re here, Mel,” Frank says into her hair. “I’m really glad you’re my friend.” 

“Me too,” she replies quietly. Her lips brush against Frank’s pulse point and she leaves them there, shutting her eyes for a moment. “Me too.” 

Mel smiles. 

Her friend. 

And more. 

Who chose her, time and time again, who's here with her now and who wants her to spend the holidays with him. 

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, she muses. 

With him there. 

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad anymore. 

fin. 

Notes:

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