history, huh?

“Mel,” Frank whips past central grinning widely, already snapping gloves on, “Trauma 2. It’s a good one.”

That familiar adrenaline starts to course through her at the promise of something interesting. She’s already standing when she hears a scoff behind her. 

“Figures.”

Maybe it’s the exhaustion of the day setting in, or maybe it’s her breaking point after months of frustrating comments. Regardless, Mel whips around and not too kindly asks, “Excuse me?”

Across the station, Santos suddenly looks very interested in her computer screen.

“Just— uh,” Santos stammers, words incoherent. “You know…” she trails off, gesturing vaguely between Mel and the retreating attending.

“Know what, exactly?”

“You’re the favorite,” she shoots back. Then adds under her breath, “His, at least.” Mel stands up a little straighter. “And that’s fine, everyone knows it, but like… yeah, Langdon wants you on the case.”

There’s an edge of something in her voice — a hidden malice that Mel is getting better at recognizing, but this time it makes her bristle. She’s gracious; she lets so much of it slide. The offhand comments about her quirks, stomaching pointed comments about him in the name of peace, but she will not tolerate the implication that their growing personal relationship has made Frank a bad teacher or unprofessional. This thing with Frank isn’t new, he’s always looked out for her, but him being her boyfriend is and it's something they’re both hyper-aware of at work. They’ve worked too hard on maintaining strict boundaries for professionalism to suddenly become an issue.

“That is completely inappropriate,” Mel snaps. “I get that you don’t like him, and that’s fine—”

“ —Yeah, you could say that,” she cuts Mel off, making her grimace more. 

“It’s fine,” she repeats more forcefully. “But don’t comment on how we manage our personal relationships at work. Since you have a gift for muddling the two, I don’t think your input is necessary here.” The other doctor opens her mouth, perhaps in shock, but Mel barrels forward. “If you really can’t help yourself, maybe wait until I won’t hear it.”

“Oh my god. That’s not what I meant—”

“But you did. That’s why you said it.” She pointedly grabs a pair of gloves, not breaking eye contact. “If you hadn’t noticed, we’re a little busy, it might be more useful to pick up another patient than complain about others’ assignments.”

Mel turns sharply, speedwalking towards Trauma 2, cheeks ablaze with indignation and embarrassment. She shoves the glass door open with her shoulder, and Frank startles from the force of it.

“You ok?”

Everything’s muffled and uneven. The rest of the house sits empty, but laughter presses against the windows of the upstairs bedroom, just another reminder of where they should be — outside with the rest of their coworkers in Abbot’s backyard, cozied up next to the bonfire.

To their credit, they were. For quite a while actually, but then they got too close, just like they always do, in their dance that Mel’s grown too familiar with. A hand against the small of her back, his breath against her ear, and the slightest tilt of his head. 

No one will notice, baby, he whispers. I know you want to.

And she does. That’s becoming the problem. She wants him all the time. Everywhere. Buried deep inside her, lips pressed against every inch of her skin, his clothes mixed with hers in a pool on the floor, but she also wants his fingers laced with hers in the daylight and his heartbeat against her palm as they fall asleep together and her soul fused to his until no one can tell where she ends and he begins.

It’s why she says yes. It’s why she slips inside a few minutes after him, tiptoeing up the creaky stairs. It’s why she pushes him down on the mattress, clawing at his shirt and unbuttoning his jeans with practiced ease. 

They pant into each other’s mouths as he pushes inside her, sharing everything they can — breath, spit, space. Love. 

If she had her way, they’d never part. His fingerprints forever bruised on her hips, an eternal mark of his affection, the same purple as all the bruises she’d leave against him if he were hers alone to come home to.

Afterwards, when the space between them inevitably grows and they rejoin the crowd outside, Mel keeps his flannel, pulling it tight around her.

That Monday, nothing is different.

Mel had thought maybe it would be - it had been kind of Santos to invite her to karaoke, and Mel thought they had fun screaming that Alanis Morrisette song together. 

But it’s like it never happened. Santos is as bristly as ever, and when Mel floats the idea of getting some more of those chili fries they had the other night, she just says, "Yeah, no, I drank way too much. Not doing that again.” She doesn't even bother looking up from her computer screen. 

Prompt: Feast @kingdonmicrofic | 500 words | Rated E for Explicit Sexual Content | 10/31 | Princess Mel/Stableboy Frank AU

“Mel? Are you in there?” 

Mel stifles a moan. “Yes, Father,” she chokes out, trying to sound normal. 

“Are you coming down for the feast? Your birthday banquet is almost ready.” 

“Be there soon, Father,” she huffs, sitting up on her elbows. “I’m just—oh, wow—just getting dressed!”

“Alright!” 

“We have to go,” Mel urges after she hears her father’s footsteps recede.

“I’m busy.” 

“Frank, you are not—oh, hell.” 

“I’m busy,” Frank repeats, pulling away from her core. “The kingdom will have to wait, as I have a birthday gift to give to the princess.” 

“You’ve already given me two,” Mel whines, trying to dislodge Frank from his position in between her legs, but he just grips her thighs harder. 

“And does the fair princess not deserve more praise?” Frank asks, hoisting up her legs over his shoulders. “Does the princess of this beautiful kingdom not deserve adulation? Admiration?” He leans in again and licks a wide stripe up her cunt that makes Mel fall back onto the bed. “Worship?” 

“The princess,” Mel pants, “is required in the Great Hall, I’m sure she—fuck Frank—will receive more than enough praise.” 

“Wouldn’t be enough.” 

“Frank, please,” she says, raking her fingers through his hair and pulling his face away from her. “If you’re going to make me late, make it worth it?” 

Frank grins maniacally. “Does my princess have a request?” 

“She does,” Mel smiles widely. “Your princess requests an audience.” 

“An audience?” He repeats, shucking off his breeches. Her gown is long gone, and Frank scrapes his teeth against her breast, sucking on a nipple as he lines his cock up to her entrance. “Do you happen to know where this audience will take place?” 

“Oh, I think you know the place,” Mel laughs, urging him forward with her knees. “I think you know it well.” 

“I do,” he says, pushing into her slowly. “I’m very grateful my lady would take my audience, as I have many thoughts about the kingdom I’d like to share.” 

“Oh?” she gasps, the breath knocked out of her as Frank bottoms out. 

“I have an opinion on her chosen husband.” 

“Not my chosen husband,” Mel corrects, groaning when Frank starts moving. “You know that.” 

“Of course, my apologies,” Frank smirks. “Your chosen husband would be a lowly stableboy, if I remember correctly—”

“My best friend,” Mel corrects, pulling him in closer for a kiss. “My everything.” 

“Then I have opinions on the man courting her.” 

“Men.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he laughs, picking up speed. “The men courting her.” 

Mel whines as he starts circling her clit and pleasure coils in her abdomen. 

“I find them arrogant, haughty, and altogether unworthy of her hand.” 

“Do you think you could do better?” Mel teases. “Do you think you could satisfy the princess?” 

Frank winks. “Oh, I know I’m up to the task.” 

@kingdonmicrofic | july 2 | prompt: champagne | 499 words

Before

“We need to celebrate!” Samira Mohan shouted to be heard over the music. “We need champagne!”

Samira elbowed her way to the bar without waiting for Mel to respond. It seemed silly to get champagne at a dive bar in downtown Pittsburgh, but Mel wasn’t going to say no to a free drink. She was starting her residency in emergency medicine at PTMC, one of the best trauma centers in the country. She deserved a chance to celebrate, especially after her years of hard work and studying. It was finally paying off.

“I’m so glad we’re going to be working together,” Samira said as she handed Mel a flute of champagne. “It’ll be just like undergrad!”