Mar :)

This is Abbot’s wife, Laura Abbot.

-Laura is an endocrinologist.

-Jack and Laura med during med school but didn’t start dating until after graduation, they had some mutual friends who set them up.

-Laura died at 36 of cervical cancer.

-she was a very sarcastic and strong person. She wouldn’t let anyone boss her around, and she was almost always the smartest in the room but didn’t let it show.

“Go home, Frank.”

The drugs. The look on Robby’s face when he found them… the disappointment. Fear. and anger in his eyes stuck with him. Years of competence undone by one small plastic bottle he stupidly left in his locker.

Inside, the house smelled like dinner and detergent, like life carried on without him. Tanner was sitting at the table, while the baby was in her highchair. Abby was at the sink, sleeves rolled up, hair pulled back, quietly managing a hundred little things at once. She glanced at him.

“You’re early,” she said, a note of surprise in her voice.

“Sent home, there were… some new interns, It wasn’t necessary for me to be there” he said, blatantly lying as he shrugged off his jacket.

Dinner passed in quiet normalcy. Abby talked about Tanner and how show and tell was tomorrow for preschool. Frank nodded, smiled when necessary, but the words didn’t stick. Everything tasted like nothing.

“Tanner has a big question to ask you” Abby said softly.

“Yeah? What is it buddy?” Frank spoke.

“Can I bring your Sss-Peffi-scope for show and tell?” Tanner tried to pronounce stethoscope, but even some words were too complicated even with his great sense of speech for his age.

“Of course you can buddy. I’ll put it in your backpack, okay?”

Tanner nodded and everyone resumed to eating their dinner.

Later, his phone buzzed with a text message from work. Mass shooting at pittfest, mass causalities help desperately needed. He stared at the screen, then at Abby curled on the couch. “I have to go back,” he whispered.

She spoke softly. “Already?” barely opening her eyes.

“I’m sorry, There’s a situation. Love you, bye.” He grabbed and jacket, keys and ran out the door.

⸻

The hospital was chaos, as always, and he moved through it on instinct. Robbie wasn’t too happy to see him back, but deep down they both knew they stood no chance without him.

When he finally came home around 10pm, the house was dark. Abby and the kids were asleep. Frank was glad, after the chaos that was the ER after a mass shooting. He wanted quiet.

He stepped into the shower, letting the hot water pound against him, pressing his forehead to the tile. He thought of Robby, of the drugs, of Abby, of his children. He thought about how easily he could destroy all of it.

I can fix this, he told himself.

He didn’t believe it.

When he got out, he slid into bed beside Abby. She shifted closer, instinctively. He lied there awake, staring at the ceiling until morning.

⸻

The next day, Frank was supposed to be at work at seven.

Instead, he was still at the kitchen table when Abby came downstairs, hair damp, coffee in hand.

“You’re not running late?” she asked.

“Day off,” he said quickly.

“You didn’t mention that.”

“Last-minute thing,” he said.

Abby studied him. “Okay,” she said cautiously.

Tanner barreled in, chaos in motion and hugged him longer than usual before leaving before asking why he wasn’t in scrubs.

“I’m off today.” Frank said softly, forcing a smile.

Abby left to run a few errands and drop Tanner off at daycare leaving the baby home with him.

About an hour later, Abby returned and immediately began to question Frank. “You’re acting weird,” she said, voice low but sharp.

“I’m fine,” he said.

“Frank,” she pressed. “You’re not fine. You’re… different.”

“I’m tired. That’s all,” he said, keeping his voice steady.

She let it go. She believed him… or atleast wanted to.

But the next morning, he was still there.

“Why aren’t you at work?” she said sternly.

He opened his mouth, closed it. Silence stretched.

“What’s going on?” Her voice was tight, anxious.

“Why do you care that I’m home?” Frank started to argue back.

“I’m not mad you’re home! I’m confused. You never take days off. You never get sent home.” She argued back.

He exhaled slowly. “I stole drugs from the hospital.”

Abby froze. “What?”

Frank was silent. He was ashamed, embarrassed and scared. For once in his life, he had no plan. No end goal. He didn’t know what to do.

Her face went white, then red. “You did what?”

“I’m trying to fix it,” he said.

“Fix it? How in the world are you going to fix it!” she yelled.

“I’m going to try and talk to Robby, okay? I’ll figure it out. It will be fine—“ Abby quickly cut him off and began yelling even louder.

“You think you can just talk your way out of this?”

“Frank you could be arrested for this, your medical license could’ve taken away, our children could be taken away!” She started to cry.

“Abby I’m sorry, I will figure it out I promise.” Frank pleaded but it was too late.

Abby quickly grabbed her phone and started calling her sister, packing bags, and grabbed the baby out of her bouncer despite her cries.

Frank stood in the doorway, powerless, his apologies swallowed by the storm.

When they left, the house was silent. Abandonment had never sounded so loud.

⸻

Two months later, Frank lived alone.

His apartment was clean but impersonal. Rehab had stripped him bare, leaving only sobriety, rules, and relentless honesty. He wasn’t divorced, but he wasn’t a husband in any meaningful sense.

He saw the kids only at the house, and only when Abby or her sister was present. Rules were strict. Time limited.

“Dad, can you help me with this?” Tanner asked one evening, holding up a Lego instruction book.

“Of course buddy” he said softly.

Frank began putting the Lego bricks together when Tanner asked the inevitable question. “When will you come back?”

“Tomorrow,” Frank said.

“No, I mean come home and life with us again” Tanner pressed.

Frank was at a loss for words. He didn’t want to lie to the kid. He was smart and would probably see right through his lies.

“Well, daddy.. got in trouble and I’m going to doctors for help. So hopefully when I’m better” Frank said carefully.

Abby stepped in. “Time’s up, Frank.”

He nodded, swallowed the lump in his throat, and left.

⸻

Time didn’t soften things. It clarified them. Sobriety gave him hours back. long stretches of the day were spent sitting with the weight of his choices, the ache of waking alone, the absence of his home.

Some nights, he dreamed of the hospital not the chaos, not the emergencies, but the quiet moments. The supply room, the locked cabinet, the choices he had made when he thought no one was watching. He also dreamed of the good, he loved working at the hospital, he loved the teaching environment. He loves his coworkers. He misses the inside jokes and brother and sister bickering between him and princess, or Garcia. Other nights, he dreamed of Abby. He woke before the dream could fracture, before reality could intrude.

Abby and Frank never had a great marriage. Most nights ended the same way, arguments whispered after the kids were asleep, about work, parenting, or nothing that really mattered. The love had faded long ago if it was ever even really there. but the stability remained. And Frank missed that stability. He missed being able to talk about his wife at work, to come home to a full house and the illusion that his life was intact, even when it wasn’t.

During the day, Abby existed at a distance. Texts strictly about logistics, school events, nothing emotional.

He didn’t push. Recovery had taught him that entitlement was another form of addiction.

Abby, for her part, was always on edge. She went back to her corporate job she had before she got pregnant, before the quick engagement. Before she knew Frank. Sometimes, after the kids were asleep, she stood in the kitchen staring at the spot where Frank used to stand and talk about his day. She didn’t cry often, crying felt childish but the weight of what he had done and what she had lost pressed against her chest anyway.

Mel hadn’t realized how quiet Philadelphia could feel at night.

The conference had been full of people and noise all day the panels, workshops, networking were overwhelming but worth it. After the sessions ended, the city stretched out around her, empty and unfamiliar. She liked that. She could wander and grab a bite alone or even take a museum detour she hadn’t planned. It was a small pocket of freedom, As much as she loved Becca, it was nice to be on her own, even if it was just for a weekend.

In the last night of the conference, she went out for dinner by herself. following Frank’s advice.

“Why don’t you go grab dinner at a fancy restaurant? I heard Philly has some good restaurants”

She stared at the screen not knowing how to reply. It did sound nice, but it would feel weird going to a nice place without Becca, or even Frank.

“I don’t know, it feels weird going without you and Becca” she texted back.

“Mel, just go you deserve it”

She ended up at a semi-fancy Italian place. Definitely a step up from Olive Garden, she thought to herself. The room was filled with the scent of garlic and fresh basil, mingling with the faint tang of simmering tomato sauce. Bread baked that morning was still soft and made her stomach rumble with anticipation.

She FaceTimed Becca halfway through her meal, then Frank afterward so she could see the goldendoodle’s floppy face.

“Tell him I miss him,” she said.

“I will,” Frank promised. “He’s dramatic tonight, by the way.”

“Obviously,” she replied.

The rain started on the Uber ride back. At first it was heavy but manageable. Then it wasn’t.

The car hydroplaned. She felt it spin before metal screamed against metal and everything went white with sound.

⸻

When she woke at the hospital, the lights were too bright, her head throbbed, and someone was asking questions she couldn’t focus on.

“Do you have an emergency contact?” the nurse asked kindly.

“I… I’m fine,” Mel said.

“I know,” the nurse replied. “But we need someone listed.”

Mel stared at the ceiling. Her phone felt impossibly heavy.

“I don’t really…” she whispered. “I don’t have anyone here.”

The clock read 12:37 a.m. She scrolled until she found Frank’s name, hesitated, then called.

“Mel?” His voice was groggy.

“I’m sorry to wake you,” she said quickly. “I was in an accident— I’m okay, really…but my head is spinning and they keep asking, and I didn’t know who else to call.”

There was a pause.

“I’m coming,” he said immediately.

“Frank, it’s after midnight and over a five hour drive—”

“I know,” he interrupted gently. “I’m coming. Stay where you are.”

She cried quietly, exhausted and overwhelmed, before hanging up.

⸻

Frank’s POV:

The house was silent when his phone rang. Seeing Mel’s name made his stomach drop before he even answered.

“I’m coming,” he told her again, already swinging his legs off the bed. Wearing Pajama pants, an old highschool Hoodie and off brand slippers he didn’t even bother removing. Keys in one hand, wallet in the other, the dog giving him a sleepy, disapproving look.

Three hours on the highway, rain-slicked roads, but he didn’t slow. Not once.

⸻

When he arrived at the hospital, she was in a bed, small and pale under the fluorescent lights. Relief hit him hard, so fast he had to stop for a second just to breathe.

“Mel.”

“Hey,” she whispered.

He was at her side instantly, hands hovering before resting lightly on her cheek and shoulder.

“You scared the hell out of me,” he said softly.

“I told you I was okay,” she murmured.

“I know, but I couldn’t just leave you here alone”

He fussed, even when she protested, brushing a thumb along her cheek, checking her bruises. When the nurse came back in and smiled at him, calling him her boyfriend, Frank didn’t correct her.

He didn’t want to.

⸻

Later, they cleared to leave and he drove her back to the hotel. The streets were quiet, slick with rain, puddles everywhere. They went upstairs to her room and he hovered while she settled onto the bed.

“I’ll sleep on the couch, is there anything—, he was quickly cut off.

Mel interrupted, “you can sleep in the bed” she pulled back the covers inviting him in.

He climbed in beside her.

At first they lay side by side, careful, parallel. Then Mel shifted closer, pressing against him. His arm came around her without thought. Legs tangled. His nose bumped gently against hers. He murmured soft, soothing words she couldn’t fully hear through the migraine, but the comfort was there.

The last trick-or-treaters had barely made it to the end of the driveway when Steve closed the door, turning the lock and hearing the click. He leaned his shoulder against it with a tired grin and let out a long sigh.

“Think we officially ran out of candy before I ran out of patience,” he said, holding up the empty bowl like a trophy.

You laughed, kicking off your red heels and setting them by the door.

“That’s what happens when you let kids take handfuls. I’m starting to think you did it on purpose just so the candy would run out faster”

“They looked so happy,” he defended, smile softening as he stepped closer. “Besides, they liked your costume way more than mine.”

You rolled your eyes, tugging at the black off-the-shoulder top that had been clinging to your skin all night. The tight black pants, leather jacket, and big curls was pure Sandy, complete with the bright red lipstick.

Steve was the perfect Danny. The white T-shirt, the slicked-back hair and the black jacket. He looked straight out of the movie, minus the cigarette, he tried to include the cigarette into his costume but that idea was quickly rejected.

“Oh, please. Half the moms at that door were flirting with you.” You teased.

“Flirting?” He gave a low chuckle oblivious to all the mom’s efforts.

That made you laugh harder, the sound echoing off the walls of your quiet living room. The faint scent of pumpkin candles lingered in the air, and outside, the wind rattled a few leaves across the porch.

The noise between you faded into something gentler. Steve’s smile lingered, but his gaze softened, tracing the curls that had fallen from your updo. voice quieter now, “you make that costume look a lot hotter than Olivia Newton-John ever did.”

You felt your cheeks warm at that, and for a second, neither of you looked away. The tension was charged.

His fingers brushed your shoulder as he played with your loose curls, the simple touch sent a quiet shiver through you. The warmth of his hand lingered even after he pulled back. Steve hesitated— long enough for both of you to realize that something had shifted. The movie costume jokes, the laughter, all of it had led to this quiet moment where neither of you seemed sure what to do next.

Then Steve took a small step closer, locking his lips with yours.

His hand came up to cradle your cheek, thumb brushing lightly against your skin. You could feel the warmth of him, the steady rhythm of his breathing as he leaned in just a little more.

The kiss deepened, slow and unrushed. His lips moved against yours. He wanted to make sure he got it right… that you wanted this as much as he did. You did. Every second of it felt right.

Your fingers found the edge of his jacket, curling into the leather as you pulled him closer. The faint scent of cologne and autumn air clung to him, Both familiar and comforting. When you tilted your head, the kiss grew hungrier, the space between you disappearing completely.

He smiled against your lips withoutbreaking the kiss. His hand slipped from your cheek to the back of your neck, his thumb tracing slow, absent circles there.

When you finally parted, your foreheads stayed pressed together, both of you breathing hard, smiling like you couldn’t stop.

Steve’s voice came out low, rough around the edges. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.”

Your answer was barely a whisper. “Me too.”

He laughed quietly and kissed you again, slower this time, just once more. The world outside the window was all wind and distant thunder, but here, in this small flicker of light and warmth everything felt still.

You didn’t wait for him to finish. You reached up and kissed him, soft and sure.

He froze for a heartbeat, then melted into it, his hand finding your cheek, thumb brushing the edge of your jaw. The gel in his hair had mostly given up by now, and you could feel the familiar thickness of it under your fingers. The kiss deepened once, twice, before breaking apart just long enough for him to breathe out a shaky laugh.

“do… do you want to go upstairs to my room?,” you asked nervously.

“If you want to.” He whispered.

“Yeah.” You smiled holding his hand and leading him up the stairs.

When you pushed open your bedroom door, the faint glow from the hallway spilled in first, then the soft amber light from the small lamp on your dresser. The air smelled faintly of pumpkin candles and laundry detergent.

Your room was cozy, a mix of soft blankets, books stacked on the nightstand, and fairy lights strung unevenly along the wall. The window was cracked just enough to let the cool October air drift in. The curtains swayed gently with each breeze.

Steve looked around once, smiling faintly at the posters and little Knick-knacks and decor you had.

You sat on the best and he turned back toward you, still smiling but noticably a little shy this time as the door clicked softly shut behind you.

The jacket slipped from your shoulders and landed on the floor with a quiet thud. Steve’s fingers rested against your waist while yours found the zipper of his jacket, tugging it down slowly until it fell away.

“Are you sure?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, your heart pounding “I’m sure.”

His breath hitched, and then his lips were on yours again slower this time, more deliberate. Each kiss felt like an unspoken promise, each touch careful and warm. The edges of your costumes blurred away piece by piece until it was just the two of you, wrapped up in the glow of the candlelight and the soft sound of rain starting outside.

You pulled back just long enough to meet his eyes. There was something tender there was a mix of nervousness and trust. It made your chest ache in the best way.

The rest unfolded quietly, in laughter and half-whispered words, as the night drew you closer, both of you finally crossing that invisible line you’d been skirting for months.

He reached for you gently, his fingers trembling slightly as he traced the hem of your shirt. You could feel the air shift as you took it off leaving you in your red-laced bra.

He couldn’t take his eyes off of you. You were unlike anything he had ever seen.

You reached for his shirt and he quickly pulled it off and you started to unzip each other’s pants. Leaving you in your underwear.

Steve started to rub your clit through your panties as you moaned softly.

“Can I?” He asked softly.

You nodded and he removed your red laced panties leaving you completely bare.

“You’re so pretty” he mumbles while licking a stripe up your center.

You moaned softly as you continued to make out with your pussy.

he sinks one finger into you with ease, then two. worshipping your clit with his lips and tongue, and gently stroking his fingers against that spot you could never reach yourself.

you look down, he’s thrusting gently against the mattress, desperate for relief and that’s what does it for you, has you pulling his hair so hard he growls and nips your clit with his teeth, but you’re so caught up in your release it just makes you tug harder.

You tug on his boxers and he finally takes them off revealing his hard cock. You can tell nervous. it wasn’t the first time he had sex. not by a long shot. and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. but steve was known for quick hookups. This was different. You were best-friends, this was intimate. He was scared that he might hurt you or ruin your friendship

one of your hands were gripping his shoulder, the other holding the base of his cock.

“Steve?” You mumbled.

“Yeah?” He said warmly.

“I want you in me” you smiled.

He moved on top of you, over you. Eyes looking down at you with shared desperation. a shared understanding that you both needed this. needed to feel him as deep as possible. every inch, every vein you just needed to feel him as close as possible.

you could barely contain yourself. the way he was looking down at you. glossy eyes, pink lips parted and slick with spit from the kisses downstairs.

One hand helping to prod his tip at your hole while the other thumb moves to find your clit, rubbing small circles in attempt to loosen you up just a bit more. In case oral and fingering didn’t work You just whine, mouth hanging open as you squirm beneath him trying your hardest not to shove his hand away from the overstimulation. He coos, leaning down to kiss your temple.

“You’re so beautiful” he reassures you as he pushes his tip into you.

———

An hour later— You sat quietly on the edge of the bed,The room was dim except for the fairy lights, and the rain outside had settled into a steady rhythm.

Steve came back from the bathroom with a damp towel and a glass of water. “Here,” he said softly, crouching down in front of you. “You don’t have to move yet. Just breathe.”

He handed you the towel first, then the water, watching to make sure you took a sip. His expression was all concern. The same mix of protectiveness and warmth he always wore when he didn’t know what else to do.

“Hey,” he murmured, brushing his thumb over your hand. “You okay?”

You nodded, a little shaky. “Yeah. Just… tired, I guess.”

He smiled faintly while cleaning you up with a damp towel “Makes sense. It’s been a long night.”

Steve stood, grabbing a shirt from your closet.

“Put this on, I’ll change the sheets okay?”

You nodded and changed your clothes.

When you were done, he came back and sat beside you, his arm slipping around your shoulders. “I love you” he whispered again, and you leaned into him, feeling the quiet steadiness of his heartbeat against your side.