Some cute fluffy Kingdon 💖
Mel was rambling, words flowing out of her mouth faster than his brain could keep up.
It wasn't her fault; after more than a year of knowing her, Frank was well acquainted with her way of speaking. Quick, jumbled, laced with a fear of not getting through the whole thing before he had to go away —no matter how hard he'd tried to prove he wouldn’t leave, or if he had to, he would always come back to pick up where she left off.
Frank looked down as her lips moved around vowels and consonants, stitching them into words and sentences about something. Most likely it was the case she had been working on for the past two hours when they were torn apart —him to South fourth and her to North twelve. As dramatic as it might sound, the distance felt infinite for all he cared.
They knew better than to pull them apart like that.
It affected both their moods like nothing else could. No one cared about his petulance at this point. He would get sharp-tongued with the med students and spare with Garcia until the nurses had to remind them about the patient on the table waiting for care. The usual stuff.
Yet nobody wanted to be on the receiving end of the stormy gaze thrown around by the hospital's usual sunshine, Dr. Mel King. Most definitely, he didn't want to spend so long away from her that he'd return to a pout and frown.
The groan that escaped his lips had nothing to do with what she was saying but with the fact that he couldn’t keep up with it. He felt terrible for it. Mel deserved to be heard properly, by someone who reacted in ways that invited her to share more rather than letting her words drift further and further apart until there was nothing left to catch.
“Am I boring you?” she asked.
There was a tiny bit of hurt behind the smirk in her eyes.
“No, Mel. Of course, not.”
“No, sweetheart. I'm not mad.”
“Do you want me to stop talking?”
“I- no, Mel. Just… follow me a second.”
He didn't wait for her reply. He grabbed her hand and pushed through the revolving doors and down the hallways, avoiding curious and knowing looks, until they found a spot quiet enough —and hidden enough— for what he wanted to do.
Their lips smashed together crookedly, her glasses got knocked sideways on her face, and she smiled so big that he ended up kissing her front teeth three times before giving up.
“God, you have such a beautiful smile.” He kissed around her lips and up her cheeks.
Compliments had been a touchy subject at the beginning of their relationship. He always had something nice to say about her, something to admire. When they were just coworkers, he praised her sharp mind and the way she handled patients, earning a tight smile and a nod in return.
As friends, he wouldn't stop telling her how funny she was with her little quiet jokes that made him spit whatever he was drinking. When things became flirtatious, he started complimenting her eyes, her hair, the adorable way her nose scrunched when she laughed. And every time, a blush would climb from the base of her neck to her cheeks, disbelief lingering in her eyes even after it became obvious to everyone else.
It took a while —and a rather thorough love confession— for her to believe him. To believe that he wasn't going to stop praising her mind, her looks, or every strange little thing that made her who she was. He knew he'd made progress when she stopped ducking her head every time he complimented her and started firing them right back.
“You too,” she said, pressing her own soft lips to his chin while he peppered the bridge of her nose with pecks. “So cute.”
Frank guided their mouths together once again, holding her by the nape of her neck, tangling his fingers in the strands of hair there and probably messing about with her perfectly neat braid.
It didn't matter to him; everyone knew Dr. Langdon was crazy in love with Dr. King. It wouldn't be the first time proof of one of their rendezvous lingered for the rest of the day, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. He'd sported a fair number of bruises along the length of his neck after lunch breaks because Dr. King decided to take a bite of him instead of her sandwich.
A little messy hair was nothing.
Mel's palms slid from his shoulder blades down the length of his back, leaving heat behind in their wake. Her hands settled on his ass and pushed their hips flush together.
“Jesus Christ, Mel. You're gonna kill me,” he breathed down her neck, nipping down on the divot between her throat and shoulder.
They kept at it for a while, touching, kissing, dragging sounds out of each other for as long as it was acceptable at work —which wasn't nearly enough for Frank.
“Are you in a better mood?” she asked quietly, letting her head fall to the side to grant him more access to her neck.
“Yeah, honey. Much better.” He let his hips roll against hers sensually, feeling the moan vibrate through her chest before hearing it. “This was exactly what I needed, Mel.”
She made an acknowledgement sound, something little and high that got mixed with a ragged breath, and let her hands bunch the edge of his scrub top to pull their bodies apart.
“Wanna do this again in an hour?”
He tugged at the end of her braid when she turned away, a little yelp tumbling from her lips that made him smirk like a boy teasing her high school crush.
They didn't get to do it again; they got pulled away from one case to another as usual, but it didn't matter.
At the end of the day, he waited for her at the front door, hands in the pockets of his jacket, leaning against the wall. She would walk to him with a skip in her step, that perfect, beautiful smile on her face, and a glow in her eyes that reminded him they still had all the time in the world to share stories and kisses with no interruptions.
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