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mel king/frank langdon | 20k | teen | for @kingdonweek day 7: free choice
What Mel wants, if she’s honest, is very simple: to not be on the floor, to be close to Dr. Langdon again, and to be as far away from a lawsuit as possible. Preferably in some distant future where all of these problems are ancient history, and she no longer has an aching feeling when she remembers them.
Or; Mel hits her head and wakes up in the future, a little too close to her wish.
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Mel stared, unamused. Frank stood on the edge of the dance floor, hand outstretched towards her, the other clutching a violently colored frozen drink. Glitter freckled his cheeks, winking at her under the multi-colored lights.
“Come on, Coco.” Frank’s voice carried, grabbing the attention of the couple next to her. “It’s our wedding song. We have to dance.”
They started clapping. “Oh, how exciting!”
She shook her head, a reluctant smile creeping on her face. Mel was all too familiar with Frank’s antics, creating a set of elaborate characters for every summer vacation.
“Jamie, we can’t take up the whole dance floor! There are other guests—”
“You must!” The woman next to them said, voice bright.
“And it’s our honeymoon too,” Frank added, pouting.
The woman gasped, landing a heavy hand on Mel’s arm. She flinched slightly, skin crawling.
Mel stood, subtly shaking the woman off her. “Lead the way, sugar.”
Frank grinned, shimmering under the lights. He guided her to the center of the dance floor and tugged her close.
“Still good, King?”
Mel looked up at him, pressed chest to chest, praying he couldn’t feel her racing heart. One day, she’d work up the courage to say something. But today, she was content to let him twirl her around the dance floor, pretending to be his wife.
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Mel stared, unamused. Frank stood on the edge of the dance floor, hand outstretched towards her, the other clutching a violently colored frozen drink. Glitter freckled his cheeks, winking at her under the multi-colored lights.
“Come on, Coco.” Frank’s voice carried, grabbing the attention of the couple next to her. “It’s our wedding song. We have to dance.”
They started clapping. “Oh, how exciting!”
She shook her head, a reluctant smile creeping on her face. Mel was all too familiar with Frank’s antics, creating a set of elaborate characters for every summer vacation.
“Jamie, we can’t take up the whole dance floor! There are other guests—”
“You must!” The woman next to them said, voice bright.
“And it’s our honeymoon too,” Frank added, pouting.
The woman gasped, landing a heavy hand on Mel’s arm. She flinched slightly, skin crawling.
Mel stood, subtly shaking the woman off her. “Lead the way, sugar.”
Frank grinned, shimmering under the lights. He guided her to the center of the dance floor and tugged her close.
“Still good, King?”
Mel looked up at him, pressed chest to chest, praying he couldn’t feel her racing heart. One day, she’d work up the courage to say something. But today, she was content to let him twirl her around the dance floor, pretending to be his wife.
The first thing about Abby that Frank noticed about Abby was her hair.
Fiery red curls that tumbled down her back, frizzing slightly in the basement of that frat house their freshman year. He wrapped a finger through her curls as he flirted with her, endeared by how her growing blush matched the strands.
It was wild. Bold. Unapologetic. It matched Abby’s personality and Frank loved it. He loved her.
after.
“Oh. You cut your hair.”
Abby blinked before frowning. She ran a hand through the styled curls, the ends barely reaching the length of her chin. “I’m picking you up from three months in rehab and that’s all you have to say?”
Frank shifted his backpack on his shoulder, trying to ease the discomfort growing in his gut. He already felt off-kilter, but Abby’s haircut was just another reminder of how quickly things had changed. How little he knew his wife.
Her voice was tentative, “you haven’t said if you like it.”
“Of course I like it, Abby. Of course.” But, his words sounded hollow—even to him.
before.
When they realized that Abby wasn’t just sick with food poisoning and fuck, they were about to have have two under two—Frank immediately imagined a little baby girl with Abby’s curls.
Tanner had been blessed with the Langdon hair. Dark, messy, and always falling in his face—even at 1 ½. It was honestly impressive.
As Frank tried to be more present and paint the nursery between shifts and attend all the classes Abby wanted, he imagined baby soft curls, the same fiery shade that caught his eyes years ago.
Eight months later, she came screaming into the world. But tucked beneath the unbridled joy of Penelope Joan Langdon’s birth, was a twinge of disappointment at the shock of dark hair.
after.
At six years old, Penny’s hair was always a bit of a mess. She was an active kid, usually getting paint or food or dirt caught in the thick strands.
Frank was at his wits end. He’d never learned how to do her hair. Growing up, his older sisters never let him touch their hair and Abby always kept Penny’s hair neat. But on his weekends with the kids…
“Can I try something?” Mel asked, twisting her fingers together. She was at his apartment for another movie night with the kids, the thing between them still unspoken. They spent most nights together or talking on the phone. The kids loved her. Abby loved her. He just had to figure out how to give her the world.
Frank nodded, as if there would ever be a different answer.
Within minutes, Mel was kneeling behind Penny, voice quiet as she brushed her hair until it was silky smooth. With nimble fingers, she braided her hair to match Mel’s braid.
Penny fingered the braid before turning towards Frank with a toothy grin, “Can you learn how to braid my hair too? Please?”
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The first thing about Abby that Frank noticed about Abby was her hair.
Fiery red curls that tumbled down her back, frizzing slightly in the basement of that frat house their freshman year. He wrapped a finger through her curls as he flirted with her, endeared by how her growing blush matched the strands.
It was wild. Bold. Unapologetic. It matched Abby’s personality and Frank loved it. He loved her.
after.
“Oh. You cut your hair.”
Abby blinked before frowning. She ran a hand through the styled curls, the ends barely reaching the length of her chin. “I’m picking you up from three months in rehab and that’s all you have to say?”
Frank shifted his backpack on his shoulder, trying to ease the discomfort growing in his gut. He already felt off-kilter, but Abby’s haircut was just another reminder of how quickly things had changed. How little he knew his wife.
Her voice was tentative, “you haven’t said if you like it.”
“Of course I like it, Abby. Of course.” But, his words sounded hollow—even to him.
before.
When they realized that Abby wasn’t just sick with food poisoning and fuck, they were about to have have two under two—Frank immediately imagined a little baby girl with Abby’s curls.
Tanner had been blessed with the Langdon hair. Dark, messy, and always falling in his face—even at 1 ½. It was honestly impressive.
As Frank tried to be more present and paint the nursery between shifts and attend all the classes Abby wanted, he imagined baby soft curls, the same fiery shade that caught his eyes years ago.
Eight months later, she came screaming into the world. But tucked beneath the unbridled joy of Penelope Joan Langdon’s birth, was a twinge of disappointment at the shock of dark hair.
after.
At six years old, Penny’s hair was always a bit of a mess. She was an active kid, usually getting paint or food or dirt caught in the thick strands.
Frank was at his wits end. He’d never learned how to do her hair. Growing up, his older sisters never let him touch their hair and Abby always kept Penny’s hair neat. But on his weekends with the kids…
“Can I try something?” Mel asked, twisting her fingers together. She was at his apartment for another movie night with the kids, the thing between them still unspoken. They spent most nights together or talking on the phone. The kids loved her. Abby loved her. He just had to figure out how to give her the world.
Frank nodded, as if there would ever be a different answer.
Within minutes, Mel was kneeling behind Penny, voice quiet as she brushed her hair until it was silky smooth. With nimble fingers, she braided her hair to match Mel’s braid.
Penny fingered the braid before turning towards Frank with a toothy grin, “Can you learn how to braid my hair too? Please?”
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