positive reinforcement, 3.2 k, rated e tags: cheating, feeding kink, obsessive behavior, control issues, light dom/sub, freak4freak melissa "mel" king/frank langdon, corruption kink
Frank notices how little Mel eats during her shifts and decides to take it upon himself to solve the issue.
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It started when a manager at Olive Garden was hit by a mid-size sedan.
He had been in the parking lot, presumably ready to clock out, when someone who had indulged in a Sangria pitcher decided to try to drive home. He was alright, it was really the best case scenario, Frank thought. Not just because he had no head trauma and had managed to crawl out from under the vehicle, but also because he had been so grateful to the PTMC staff for setting his broken leg that he had catered their lunch the next day.
Now, a lot of people turned up their nose at Olive Garden. (A lot of so-called “respectable” doctors). Not Frank Langdon, that was for sure. As a kid in North Carolina, Olive Garden had been a fancy night out. It had been his family’s spot for graduations and birthdays, a real splurge. Because seriously, what was better than endless breadsticks? He liked that it was reliable. It always tasted the same. It was salty and the salad was good. What’s not to love? But, of course, Abby hated it, so he hadn’t been in years.
That was why when he saw the mountain of breadsticks and huge, aluminum tray of pasta on a hot plate, he’d immediately run to tell Mel.
She was hunched over a teenage boy’s leg, methodically stitching.
“Hey, Dr. King,” He said as he walked in, drumming his fingers on her tray. The boy in the gurney looked up at him miserably. He smiled in response, “guess what?”
“Do you really want me to guess?” Mel asked, squinting in concentration, “Or are you going to tell me?”
“I’m going to tell you: there’s Olive Garden in the break room. So, so much Olive Garden.”
Mel smiled mildly, “Oh! I haven’t been there in forever. Becca loves the breadsticks.”
“Everyone loves the breadsticks,” he said, then peered over at her neat, clean stitches, nodding in approval, “Just wanted to tell you so you don’t miss out. Did you pack a lunch?”
“Um,” her little tongue poked out as she tied off her knot, “I just brought a protein shake. I’ll try and grab something later. Thank you for, um, keeping me in mind, Dr. Langdon.” and she smiled at him sweetly.
“Nice. Nice. Perfect stitches, by the way.”
Mel beamed.
Hours passed, most of the breadsticks had been devoured by the EMTs dropping by, and Whitaker, who had somehow “never had Olive Garden before”, a fact that Frank found both deeply sad and impossible. This had to be manufactured somehow, an element of his farm-boy image. Frank always knew there was something nefarious about him. Something off. He would share these findings with Mel, later.
Lunch had come and gone, and dinner time was encroaching, and Frank, who kept track of Mel’s movements like a hawk, was keenly aware that Mel had skipped both, seemingly running on air, in no hurry to get to the break room for pasta or anything. Surreptitiously, he wrapped two breadsticks in a paper towel and wrote MEL in sharpie, setting them aside.
When they finally wrapped up at around 9pm, he was getting his things from his locker when Mel walked over, looking exhausted.
“Hey,” he said, “did you see the breadsticks I saved for you in the break room?”
Mel, distracted by her locker, which blinked red to indicate she had mistyped the combination, shook her head, nose scrunched, “I, uh, don’t think I ended up taking a break today, actually,” she tried again, glowing green, she sighed with relief, “sorry, I can’t think straight. Thank you for doing that for me.”
Frank frowned deeply, looking over at her with his eyebrows furrowed. This was a problem.
“Mel, you can’t seriously tell me you worked a twelve without anything to eat. That’s crazy.” He got somewhat stern with her, voice low.
Immediately, she straightened her posture, eyes big, “I guess I did! Oh, no,” she puffed out a breath, “I know that’s not good practice, Dr. Langdon. I definitely could have gotten distracted or not been at my best. I’m so sorry. I’ll try better next time.”
Her response made him a little breathless. He had only meant to remind her to take care of herself, but of course, she had taken it as a personal failing that she needed to right. She took his rare criticism so seriously, he was only just beginning to understand the real weight of it. She valued his approval so strongly it was hard not to get carried away by it. Of course, like a good mentor, he knew that he could use this to make her the very best doctor that she could be. His perfect protege. So, instead of assuaging her, he did this:
“Uh… yep. Definitely. You can’t go that long between meals. You could get light headed, misjudge something, forget something crucial. Stuff like that. What do you usually eat at home?”
Mel nodded seriously, shame on her face. He almost felt bad, like he was being too hard on her, but it was for the greater good, of course.
“I don’t have much of an appetite to be honest,” she shrugged her backpack onto her shoulder, closing the door to her locker, “I’m always so busy, and I don’t really have time to cook. I’m, um, kind of a picky eater, to tell the truth. You’re so right, though, I never really thought of that. It was totally irresponsible. Please don’t tell Dr. Robby.”
He almost laughed at the thought that he’d ever tell Robby about something Mel had done that wasn’t expounding her genius, “Mel, I would never do that. We can, uh, work this out between us. Alright? What are you doing tomorrow?” She was off. He already knew this. He kept her schedule in his phone, right next to his own.
“I was going to take Becca to the zoo, but,” she winced, blinking fretfully, “I think she’s going to go to the planetarium with Adam, instead. I hate the planetarium. It makes me feel like an ant.”
“I’m off. Why don’t we go grocery shopping together? I could help you meal prep?”
It was as if someone had handed her a winning lottery ticket. Her eyes lit up and she opened her mouth with surprise, “Really?” she said, “You’d do that?”
He swallowed back his own grin, hardly able to contain himself, “Of course, Mel,” then, as if to tamper it down, he added, “... What are friends for?”
She nodded quickly, looking as if she couldn’t believe her luck, “Great. I’m so excited. Thank you, Dr. Langdon!”
“How about two? I can pick you up?”
“Okay! Alright. Great! Sounds great.” She chirped, and practically skipped out of the ED.
Across the way, Mckay caught his eye and raised her eyebrows. He waved her off with his hand.
On the drive home, he wasn’t able to get Mel’s face out of his head. The way she’d looked; so crestfallen at his disapproval, then, so eager to please him.
The way he felt about her was intense. Inappropriate. He’d known the second they’d met that it wasn’t going to be good. He wanted to teach and she wanted to be a student. They were a matched pair, in that way. And when he’d come back, it was twenty times worse, because everyone looked at him differently, all respect and trust was completely lost, except for her. She had looked over at him with huge, trusting eyes, her head in his hand, and had said “You never let me down”. Not even his own children thought the same, much less his wife.
She was perfect. Malleable, sweet, isolated. She needed him. She wanted him. Who else could say that?
When he finally pulled into the driveway in the dark, he just sat there for a moment, heart thrumming. He ran his hands through his hair. He took ten deep breaths. That still didn’t shake her, so, shamefully, he masturbated into his palm and wiped it onto his scrubs, imagining instead that he was finishing on Mel’s glasses. Then, he got out of the car and went into his big, dark house, showered quickly, and fell asleep on his bed on the couch.
The next day, Abby was glad to hear that he was doing the shopping for the week. Which was weird, because she typically wasn’t glad to hear anything where he was involved.
“I’ll share the list with you,” she said, “you’ll have to go to Costco and Trader Joes. Do you want to take Penny? We were going to go to baby swim at the same time. But she likes the samples.”
“Keep your date at baby swim,” he said, “I’ll take a solo trip.”
“Fine,” she said, seeming not to care either way, “but can you take Tanner to camp this morning? I’m sick of getting stuck in the drop-off loop.”
“Sure thing, Abs.”
She gave him a thin, closed mouth smile in response that didn’t meet her eyes.
Abby had left him twice since everything had gone down. Once the day of, the second time after his relapse. He’d never formally moved out, just moved into the TV room where he slept on the couch. He didn’t know whether they were on or off, she would change her mind sporadically about the whole thing semi-regularly. Since the last time he’d been kicked out of the bedroom, he’d decided to just keep his stuff in the TV room so he didn’t have to move it back and forth anymore.
So, when he went to pick up Mel King at around 1:50pm without saying a word about it to his wife, he didn’t feel bad about it.
When he knocked on the door, Mel answered looking fresh-faced and lovely. She wore two braids instead of one, long and still slightly damp from her morning shower. She had on a striped base-ball tee with what looked like a cartoon monkey sewn onto it with fabric scraps. He was immediately charmed.
“Hi, Dr. Langdon!” She beamed up at him, smelling like strawberry soap, barrettes pinning back her hair on each side.
“Hey, Mel,” he said with a laugh, “You know you can call me Frank off the clock, right?”
“Right,” she nodded, grabbing her bag and putting it over her shoulder, “Frank. I’ll try. Sorry if I mess up.”
“Don’t worry about it.” He tried to peer behind her and get a look into her apartment, but didn’t want to seem intrusive. From what he could see, it was small but well–decorated, a pink rug behind her and a vintage looking couch. He appreciated that Mel had such eclectic taste. It was a shame no one at work appreciated how special she was, but at the same time, maybe it was for the best that he had her all to himself.
“I hope you didn’t have a hard time parking,” she worried, locking up her door and walking with him down the stairs, “it’s street only, and sometimes I have just a terrible time finding a spot, once I even got a ticket.” She visibly shuddered as she recounted this.
“That’s why, um, sometimes I take the bus to work. Also, y’know, it is good for the environment. Like, using public transportation and carpooling.”
“So I’ve heard,” he said, and he opened the door to let her into the passenger side of his car.
“Thank you, Dr.–– Frank!” She flushed, embarrassed.
“Nice catch.”
Mel’s grocery list was written on a pad of Snoopy-themed stationary paper in her own looping handwriting. Frank held it like it was a precious artifact.
“Almond milk… spinach… bars? Do you even eat spinach?”
Mel wrinkled her nose, then looked at the floor sheepishly, “Well… I thought I might try and start.”
“No, no, no,” Frank said, folding up her list and putting it into his back pocket, “we need to get stuff that you like. That you know you’re going to eat. Besides bars. Real food.”
“Right,” she nodded seriously, “real food.”
Real food turned out to be very loosely defined by Mel. Trail mix, granola, tiny alphabet pasta she liked to eat with butter. Greek yogurt, he was happy about, because at least that had a little protein. Strawberries to cut up (the tinier the better, she said, she didn’t like big chunks of things).
Frank found out that she ate mostly vegetarian, although she said she would break the rule for a nice dinner, although she didn’t go out to many nice dinners, so it didn’t really come up. She got fake burgers and chicken nuggets, and then, sheepishly, smiley face french fries, which Frank told her not to be embarrassed about. Smiley face fries were good.
At Trader Joes, he talked her into all kinds of snacks she’d never seen before. Veggie Jumeokbap, bagel flavored crackers, and his personal favorite: Scandinavian Swimmers, Swedish Fish knock offs that were better than the real thing. She even grabbed some cookie butter, which she was apprehensive about, but that he convinced her would be good on graham crackers.
When they were done, he insisted on carrying her groceries up to the door and helping her put them away, even with his own frozen groceries melting his waiting car.
At the door, as they said goodbye, Frank decided to pitch one of his more dangerous ideas.
“I was thinking about what I could do to help you, uh, stay on track,” he started, as Mel looked up at him with that rapt expression, “How about whenever you eat anything, you text me what it is? And, uh, tell me how much you ate, too.”
Mel’s eyes widened and she immediately began to nod aggressively, twin-braids bobbing, “That’s a great idea, Dr. Langdon. Thank you so much for all your help. It means a lot to me, really. More than I can say.” Her cheeks were mildly pink.
“It’s really no problem, Mel,” he said, ignoring that she’d slipped up and called him Dr. Langdon again. She seemed to be more comfortable that way, “You’re my favorite, y’know.”
Eyelids stuttering, she flushed all the way up to her ears.
He got the first text at 6pm.
Mel King PTMC: Hi Dr. Langdon :)
Mel King PTMC: For dinner I’m going to have a veggie burger and smiley fries.
Mel King PTMC: I’m just going to make it in the oven I guess?
Mel King PTMC: I will follow the directions!
He was smiling like a complete idiot down at his phone, so much so that Abby asked him who he was texting.
“Oh, no one,” He said, closing out the window and putting his phone into his pocket, “work joke.”
Later, when he was about to get into the shower before bed, he checked his phone without suspicion. Waiting for him was a photo of Mel’s dinner. He was immediately charmed by her mismatched plates and silverware, clearly she’d just picked what she liked best from the thrift store. A flowery porcelain plate and a Kennywood souvenir cup. A half-eaten burger and a handful of fries remain on the plate.
Mel King PTMC: [image]
Mel King PTMC: That was all I could finish, guess I wasn’t that hungry!
Mel King PTMC: I might have a strawberry Melona bar before bed :)
He thought just getting the food in her fridge would be enough, but apparently she wasn’t that easy. She couldn’t even finish a veggie burger? He’d seen her after lunch and was pretty sure she hadn’t even eaten yet that day. There was something wrong with her appetite, some kind of signal wasn’t lighting up in her brain. He had to figure out a way to fix that.
Frank reacted with a “thumbs up” emoji on her photo. He couldn’t be too harsh with her, he didn’t want to scare her off.
Frank Langdon: Looks great, Mel!
Frank Langdon: Better than my dinner, haha.
And then, testing the waters:
Frank Langdon: You weren’t that hungry?
Frank Langdon: Didn’t you skip lunch?
Fretfully, she began to type:
Mel King PTMC: Yes :( I completely forgot
Mel King PTMC: Maybe it was all the samples at Costco??
Mel King PTMC: I’ll try harder tomorrow, I even packed my lunch for work!
Mel King PTMC: [image]
She sent a photo of her open lunch box. Inside, a sandwich wrapped in wax paper, an apple (of the Cosmic Crisp variety), and a protein bar. It wasn’t much, but it was better than the single protein shake she’d been bringing last week.
Frank Langdon: Looks good!
Frank Langdon: What kind of sandwich is that?
Mel King PTMC: It’s a sunflower butter and jelly sandwich. In case anyone in the ED has a nut allergy.
Frank Langdon: I didn’t even know they could make butter out of that
Mel King PTMC: Science is magic :) 🌻
Somehow, he tore himself away from his phone long enough to actually get into the shower, although he’d used all of the hot water just standing there like an idiot. His shower was lukewarm and uncomfortable, and he went as quickly as he could.
When he had brushed his teeth and patted himself dry, tugged on a pair of boxers, Abby opened the door a crack, peering inside.
“Frank?” She called through the humidity, leaning against the doorway in her robe, arms crossed, long brown hair rolled up into her foam heatless curl rod, looking like puppy dog ears, “Do you want to sleep in the bed tonight?”
He looked at her in the mirror, letting out a puff of breath, phone sitting guiltily on the bathroom counter by his mouthwash, “Uh, not tonight Abs.”
She didn’t wilt, she just wrinkled her nose, head tilting to the side with a look of obvious suspicion, “Why not? Why wouldn’t you want to sleep in bed with your wife?”
He shrugged, tugging on his sleep shirt, “I’m not in the mood. I have all my stuff out there, you know. It’s kind of a pain to drag it back and forth. Since you keep changing your mind about whether you want to be my wife or not.”
She let out an annoyed breath and looked as if she was going to say something, and then changed her mind and said something else, “Fine. Maybe you should start looking for an apartment, then.”
“Maybe I will.” He said shortly, and she left, closing the bathroom door behind her. His heart pounded in his ears. He checked his phone.
Mel King PTMC: Can’t wait to see you tomorrow :)
That night, alone in the TV room, the only sound the buzz of the fridge and the sloshing of the dishwasher in the next room over, he spent a long time on his phone. He read research from the American Journal of Psychology. The wikipedia page on Classical conditioning: the process of an automatic, conditioned response that is paired with a specific stimulus. Then, B.F. Skinner’s Operant conditioning, which added positive reinforcement, a key component of operant conditioning: increases the likelihood of repeating a behavior by adding a rewarding stimulus after the behavior occurs.
Yeah, he thought, he could totally do that.
