YOU CAN'T KILL THE SPEW!!!

If Mel had been asked when she’d first started at PTMC in late 2025 if she ever thought she’d have a family again—besides Becca—she would’ve said that it never really crossed her mind. Back then, she’d been content—or at least convinced herself that she was—with having her twin and watching Elf over six hundred times. She would’ve insisted that it was fine having hot cocoa almost every night, even during the summer, or going to Kennywood or doing whatever her sister likes all the time because they’re family—all either of them has left—and family makes sacrifices. It’s what she’d done her whole life, really. She was fine with it… That is, until July 4th came and sent her whole world spiraling, crashing, and burning.

No one was there to help her pick up the pieces, or so she thought. She’d assumed she had no one after Becca had all but hung her out to dry in favor of Adam. But then Frank happened and proceeded to turn Mel’s life upside down, but in the best way possible.

They had a family of their own now. Becca would always be important to Mel, that would never change, but nowadays they both had their own separate lives, neither smothering the other. Mel was a stepmother to Tanner and Penny, and much to their surprise—and Tanner’s apprehension—a new mother to a baby girl whom Frank insisted was her twin.

Getting to hold their new baby in her arms had made her heart balloon in her chest, swelling with more emotion and sheer, utter pride and love than she ever thought possible.

The sleepless nights had taken some getting used to, and Mel’s recovery was a work in progress, but she would do it a million times over. She would do anything for the family she’s built with Frank.

She knows the sentiment is returned when Frank gets up to care for Laura Grace—affectionately named after both of their mothers—when she doesn’t sleep through the night. The way he insists that she needs her rest, presses a lingering kiss to her forehead, and slips out of the room… Frank would do anything for their family too.

She could laugh, really, or perhaps cry tears of joy, or both when she thinks about it. Once orphaned with only her sister for companionship, and now with a small group of friends, three amazing kids she loves more than anything, and the world’s most doting husband who would give her anything her heart desired.

If she had it to do all over again, Mel wouldn’t hesitate; not if it meant that she’d wind up here every time, with a loving, supportive family, having her needs met and then some, and finally getting to be truly content in her life.

Having sex with Frank was better than Mel could’ve imagined—not that she had any point of reference to compare it to, honestly. Frank was her first and she’d been upfront about being a virgin prior, and thus, Frank had handled her with the utmost care. He’d been so gentle, reassuring, and talking her through it all. It had been a lot to take in.

Which is precisely why, now, during their moments of afterglow, Mel is overwhelmed with emotion. She doesn’t even realize that she’s crying until she feels Frank’s hand on her cheek, thumb brushing away her tears.

“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

Mel shakes her head. “No, you didn’t. It was good. Really good. I think I’m just… a little overwhelmed, sorry.”

“Oh, do you not want me to touch you?” Frank’s voice is so soft; Mel craves his comfort.

She rolls over, pressing herself into his chest, murmuring, “I do want that. Please.”

Frank wraps his arms around her, pressing kisses into her hair and murmuring praises.

Later, before they drift off, Mel whispers, “Can we do this again? I won’t cry next time.”

Frank thinks, despite the obvious problems he’s faced over the past few years—failing marriage, substance abuse, rehab bills, impending divorce—that he’s a simple man with simple thoughts; simple needs. Well, simple enough, anyway. That’s always the joke about men, isn’t it? Simple creatures. Frank supposes there’s some merit to it.

Though it’s especially true when compared to Mel King. There is absolutely nothing “simple” about Mel. She is quite possibly one of the most complex people Frank has ever met. She’s a mystery he can’t wait to solve. He wants to get to know her in every way imaginable—even the ways he dare not say out loud. She fascinates him more than anyone else.

Even now, as he watches her from across the ED, he can’t tear his eyes away. She’s only walking a patient out, explaining everything they’ll need to know upon being discharged, but if anyone were to see Frank staring, they’d assume he was focused on something that required every ounce of his attention.

He’s only torn away when she moves out of sight, but even then he can’t ignore the seeming orchestra that plays in his head every time she does anything. He has a problem; a huge one. But he can’t really seem to care.

Especially when he sees her return. Their eyes lock and she gives him a little wave. A smile pulls at Frank’s lips.

The smell of breakfast stirs Mel awake. She sits up carefully, a dull ache as she moves being a reminder of the night they’d shared. Fingers press to her kiss swollen lips as she smiles to herself at the memory, and finally gets out of bed.

She contemplates showering, but decides to throw on one of Frank’s oversized T-shirts and bring up the possibility of showering together after breakfast.

Entering the kitchen, she sees that Frank has just finished cooking and has his back to her as he stands at the sink. Breakfast is spread out for them on the kitchen table, but she forgoes taking a spot there to wrap her arms around Frank from behind.

She can feel Frank start beneath her touch, just slightly, while she nuzzles into his back, pressing a kiss there.

“Morning…” she murmurs into his back, before feeling him turning towards her.

“Morning, I—” The words die on his tongue the moment his eyes take her in. Mel feels her skin warm under his hungry gaze. “Well, I was going to say I made us breakfast but I’m more interested in having you right now…”

Then, Mel is letting out a little squeak of surprise as she’s suddenly picked up and placed onto the counter. For a moment, she wants to chide him about his back, but the thought vanishes almost as quickly as it had appeared the second she can feel his lips on hers.

Mel kisses Frank back in earnest, arms wrapping around his neck while he easily slots between her legs. He kisses her until they both need air, and even then, he nuzzles his face into her neck, kissing and nipping at the pulse point there. Mel keens, fingers shooting up into Frank’s hair, pulling, while she feels the warmth pooling low in her stomach.

She can hear Frank hiss against her skin, relentless in his pursuit to suck a mark onto her skin. Any other time, she would remind him to leave marks that can easily be hidden, but at this moment, she doesn’t give a damn. So, she lets him stake his claim on her while she whines out his name.

Eventually, she feels his hand snake between her legs, and the look Frank gives her as he pulls off of her neck lets her know that only putting on one of his shirts was the right decision.

A moan escapes her the moment he starts rubbing at her, legs falling open further while she gives his hair another tug.

“Fuck, Mel…” That’s all it takes to spur Frank on, fingers effortlessly being inserted one after the other from how wet she is for him.

Frank’s touch is heavenly, making Mel whine, squirm and cry out his name until she’s clenching around his fingers as he works her through her first orgasm, feeling more heightened from the lingering tenderness of last night.

Mel finds Frank in the breakroom, watching as he futzes with his phone; unlocking, fidgeting, relocking. Rinse and repeat. His eyes are downcast, brow furrowed, until he notices her come in. She can tell he’s troubled, sits in front of him, and offers her help.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Frank explains his concerns and gripes with Abby, his anxiety of his impending divorce, and what his future will look like. He’s stressed and unsure, but most of all, Mel can sense his fear, afraid of the unknown. She can relate, not liking to be unprepared for things either.

“Hey, you’ll figure it out,” she says, in hopes to reassure him. When it doesn’t have the immediate desired effect, she adds, “I’m here if you need anything. I mean it.”

Frank looks up at her, locks eyes briefly, and looks down again, mumbling a thanks.

Something occurs to her then, and wordlessly, she’s reaching back to unclasp something from around her neck. She pulls it out from beneath her scrub top and holds it out to him.

“Here.”

Frank looks up then, observing the necklace in bemusement for a few moments before looking back at Mel.

“What’s that?”

Mel smiles. “Opalite. It was my mother’s—she went through a holistic medicine phase when Becca and I were kids. It’s supposed to be good for helping with anxiety, stress, and emotional blockages. I think maybe it could help you get through this.”

Frank shakes his head. “I can’t take that from you—”

“I don’t mind,” Mel says, pressing it into his hand.

This time of year really couldn’t come soon enough, and now that it has, Mel can’t contain her excitement. The whimsy of the Renaissance Faire was unlike anything else, and though Mel had originally assumed she’d be attending it on her own—she’d rather not think about how Becca, once again, decided to make plans with Adam—she’d been pleasantly surprised when Frank had offered to go with her.

When she’d asked if he’d ever been to one before, she’d been surprised to learn that he hadn’t, but beyond pleased to be told that he’d always wanted to go, at least once. To that, Mel had immediately invited him to join her every year if he wanted.

Though unclear if Frank would seriously take her up on that offer, Mel decided she would enjoy this one year alone—perhaps a little too much—if that’s all they did.

Regardless, Mel had gone all out in her attire, wearing a cream colored peasant dress with forest green bodice and overdress. Her hair is braided in twin dutch braids, decorated with daisies and wild flowers, and her outfit is complemented with a silver necklace, brown leather boots, and a small brown pouch tied by her waist to keep her belongings in.

She’d made sure that Frank matched—at least somewhat—and had giggled at how he’d insisted upon dressing like a pirate, a real life Captain Scurvy, with the same forest green accents, flowy cream shirt, brown leather boots and matching hat.

Quite a pair the two made.

“I cannot believeth thee've nev'r been to one of these bef're!” Mel exclaims, as they move through the crowds of people around them, blushing when Frank lets out a laugh, and wondering if he thinks she’s doing too much. Truthfully, it had been an instinctual thing, something she’d always do when she came here with Becca. Maybe it was too cringey, maybe Frank found it off-putting or weird, despite their location. Maybe he wasn’t the type to get into something like this as deeply as she had. Maybe—

“Haply I just nev'r hadst the right company.” Frank beams at her, chuckling again at the look of surprise that quickly morphs into the brightest of smiles.

Mel can’t help herself as she responds, “Well, I desire to beest the most wondrous company f'r thee!” Once she’s started, she simply cannot bring herself to stop.

Frank reaches for her hand, taking it in his own as he gives her a once over and says, “I has't nay doubteth, f'r thou art already the most ravishing.”

The flush on Mel’s cheeks darkens, still getting used to Frank openly flirting with her given the newness of their relationship. She squeezes his hand and gives it a tug.

“Thou art too kind,” Mel says, playfully as she pulls him along. She tries not to get distracted by how he interlaces their fingers. “Wouldst thy most handsome self careth to expl're the apothecary with me?”

It hasn’t been a very good day for Mel. The fridge was too loud as she ate her breakfast, the lights at school were too bright, and as she sat in class, she struggled to focus from how noisy her classmates were being (of all the days to have a sub). The icing on the shit cake of the day was that her father is sick; only getting sicker. Everything has sent her into a state of overwhelm and she would love nothing more than to hide away.

So, she keeps to herself, ignoring Frank when he tries to get her attention in class, not looking at the letter he plops down on her desk to read and respond to, and when it’s time for recess, she hides in the crawlspace under the playset, staring uninterestedly at the spinnable tic-tac-toe game across from her, disassociating.

Her alone time doesn’t last long, however, before she’s spotted.

“Found you,” Frank says, crawling over and sitting next to her. “What are you doing down here?”

Mel doesn’t say anything at first, simply shrugs, still staring ahead, like if she stares at the tic-tac-toe game in front of her hard enough, she can teleport into another universe.

“Are you okay? Did I do something? Did someone else do something?” Frank asks, undeterred. It isn’t the first time he’s seen her like this. He always takes it upon himself to try to help. After a small pause he adds, “Was someone mean to you? Do you want me to beat them up?”

That makes the tiniest of smiles pull at Mel’s lips.

He can be so ridiculous sometimes. 

Still, she shakes her head, but this time, she says, “No, I’m just… sad.”

“Why are you sad? What happened?”

No one’s ever bothered to ask her something like that—besides doctors and her parents—but Frank is her friend, her first real friend, and she’s still getting used to it.

But she trusts him. Frank is kind to her, he stands up for her, he shares his snacks with her, plays with her, and he’s very kind to Becca. To say that Mel has grown attached to him would be an understatement.

She knows she can talk to him and he’ll listen and try to help and won’t make fun of her or get weirded out.

So, she finally speaks out loud what’s been bothering her the most all day. “My dad is sick.”

“Oh… Can he take some medicine to make him feel better?”

“Not that kind of sick,” Mel explains. “He has cancer and it’s getting worse.”

“Oh…” Frank says, simply, falling silent for a bit before continuing, “I’m sorry, Mel.”

“It’s okay,” she says on instinct. “I mean, it’s not but…”

A silence settles between them for a few seconds before Frank asks, “Can I sit here with you?”

Mel is annoyed.

“Are you serious? We had plans, Becca,” she says, doing her best to keep her tone in check.

“I know, but Adam will be going on vacation with his family on Saturday. I want to spend Friday with him. We can just go another time.”

Mel could scream. She doesn’t.

“We can’t go another time; I already bought—”

“Oh, that’s him calling now, bye Mel!” Becca hangs up, leaving Mel staring at a black screen.

She can’t help it this time as she lets out a loud, frustrated huff, so lost in her own turmoil that she doesn’t hear Frank stepping into the ambulance bay behind her.

“Everything okay?”

Mel jumps, quickly putting away her phone and says, “I’m fine.” A beat passes before she adds, “it’s just Becca. We had a movie premiere to go to on Friday but she’s ditching me for Adam. And I already bought the tickets. Non-refundable.”

“Well, I can go with you if you want.”

“What?”

“If you don’t want—”

Mel has never been good at making friends—a milestone she’s yet to meet—but not for lack of trying. She’s too shy, too awkward, too talkative, never knowing when to stop. It’s hard to make friends, anyway, especially whenever Becca’s involved in the equation. It’s nothing that Mel minds, of course, but their classmates always seem to have a problem with it. Mel can’t be friends with someone who can’t appreciate her twin sister. They’re a package deal, period.

Mel had started coming to terms with the fact that maybe making friends just wasn’t in the cards for her and she knew that she should focus on school, anyway, but she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t lonely sometimes. Having her sister is great; they are best friends, but they’re also sisters and sometimes they get on each others’ nerves and then Mel has no one.

Well, until a family moves in next door.

The first time Mel sees him, it’s through her bedroom window. She sees him hop out of the backseat of the car and she can’t look away. He looks to be about her age, about her height, with dark, shaggy hair. Something inside her stirs, but she shoves it down, trying not to get her hopes up at the potential of making a new friend. He’d probably think she’s too weird; they probably won’t have anything in common, and so, even though he’s her new neighbor, Mel decides to keep to herself.

The next time she sees him, it’s when she and Becca are playing out in the yard. They’re sitting on a plaid picnic blanket, having a tea party—Becca’s newest special interest—when Mel hears their neighbor run outside. He’s close enough this time that she can get a closer look at him. She ignores the way her heart flutters.

She can see his shaggy dark brown hair more clearly this time, and squints as she tries to make out more of his features. Unfortunately for Mel, she doesn’t realize she’s staring, and is startled out of her thoughts by Becca nudging her.

“Mel, are you paying attention? What are you looking at?” she asks, too loudly. Her eyes look to where Mel was once staring, and she sees their neighbor too. He’s looking back at them now and Mel tries not to panic as he waves. “Hey! You wanna have a tea party with us?!”

And just like that, he’s bounding over, smiling broadly, and the closer he gets, the more Mel is stunned into silence.

Dark, shaggy brown hair, bright blue eyes and the most endearing chin dimple.

She hears him speak but all she really catches is his name and nothing else. She’s staring again, not realizing the weird looks she’s receiving until Becca is nudging her again.

“Nice to meet you, Frank! I’m Becca and this is my sister, Mel! You wanna be our friend?”

“Sure!” Frank says, beaming, plopping down beside them. Mel tries not to blush.

“Y’think he’ll ever connect the dots?” Dana asks with a snort, seemingly at random, making Emma look up at her from her current task in confusion.

“What?” she asks, and looks in the direction Dana nods her head. Standing just outside of the breakroom, she sees Dr. Langdon and Dr. King conversing. Well, it’s more than that, really. Emma notices the too big smiles, the way Dr. King lightly touches Dr. Langdon’s arm, how close they’re standing… Nothing really sticks out as unusual to her though.

Aren’t they always like that?

Emma supposes that she never really thought much of it. In fact, it seemed to her that, despite their personal feelings, the two managed to keep things rather professional at work.

Though the way Dana asks her question, Emma feels like there’s something she’s not quite understanding. What dots were there for Dr. Langdon to connect? She wonders if there’s some gossip that she’s not privy to.

“I’m afraid I don’t get what you mean.”

Dana frowns when she looks at her, like what she’d asked had an obvious response to it.

“C’mon, kid—” she nudges Emma lightly with her elbow, “—Don’t tell me you haven’t heard about those two’s weird will-they-won’t-they relationship by now.”

“What?” Emma repeats, thoroughly bemused. She looks back at the pair briefly before returning her attention to Dana. “You mean they aren’t already dating?”

It’s their day off; a day where they should be sleeping in, catching up on all the beauty sleep they’ve both lost due to working overtime. They can lounge around in bed all day, order takeout for all three meals, and maybe, eventually, pull themselves out of bed to cuddle on the couch and watch a movie.

So far, they’re not sleeping in, and Mel is very certain that so far, the only thing they seem to be achieving is staying in bed.

“Ah- Frank-!” Mel cries out, fingers digging into his back, adding more scratches to the ones from their first round. “I- I’m so close-!”

She can feel Frank’s back muscles flexing under her fingertips as he sinks into her, over and over, and can hear him hissing into her ear. “Come for me, baby.”

Mel has one leg thrown over his hip, digging her heel into the small of his back to spur him on, while she moves a hand to slip down between her legs. Right as her fingers touch her clit, they’re lightly smacked away, making her whine out and dig her heel harder into Frank’s back.

He grunts in response, but still grants her pleasure, fingers circling over her clit, making her cry out and move her hand up into his hair. She gives it a sharp tug, making him hiss again. She gasps as she feels him nip at the bend in her neck.

Mel can feel herself coming undone, letting out a string of mildly incoherent words as she feels herself barreling towards the finish line.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” Frank moans hotly against her skin. “Come for me.”

That’s all it takes for Mel to reach orgasm, clenching around Frank as his thrusts become faster; more erratic. Moments later, he follows suit, filling Mel up before he’s pulling out and collapsing beside her.

There’s a mess between Mel’s thighs and she knows she needs to clean herself up, but in this moment, she can’t be bothered, instead, turning to look at Frank and his gorgeously flushed face and admiring how attractive he looks in his blissed out state.

She watches as he finally rolls onto his side to look at her, a lazy smile pulling at his lips that Mel returns. Her skin feels hot, heartbeat finally starting to slow as she attempts to even out her breathing.

“You okay?” Frank asks softly, leaning in to press a tender kiss to her forehead.

“Yeah,” Mel hums after a moment. “Just…a little overstimulated…”

Frank gives a faint chuckle, gently running his fingers up and down her arm. “Hell, I think I’m overstimulated…” After a beat he adds, “I’m sorry if it was too much.”

Mel shakes her head. “No, it was really good… I just, um, I’m really tired now…”

“Me too…” Frank agrees. “But you were amazing…”

Finally, Mel rolls onto her side, curling against his chest while his arms wrap around her.

“Round three after we wake up?”

Frank tries to replay the night’s events in his head. He knows he’d had too much to drink—not enough to be wasted, but enough to feel tipsy and loose. He’d gotten flirted with by girls who he’s sure wouldn’t have liked him if he wasn’t on the football team, and Abby wasn’t texting him back, still pissed off that he’d wanted to go to his teammate’s houseparty when she didn’t.

He’d gotten Mel to go with him, instead, and what a godsend she’d been. Though, he had to admit that he still felt bad about it. House parties were never really her thing, he’d known that, and still, selfishly, asked her to join him. He’d joked that she could babysit him, but that’s actually what she’d wound up doing; what she’s still doing.

“M’sorry,” Frank murmurs as he downs another greasy fry. They’re sitting on the hood of his car—that Mel had insisted on driving, eating fast food that Mel insisted on ordering to sober him up. “This isn’t your responsibility.”

“It’s fine, really.” Mel’s voice is soft, though she’s not looking at him. Her gaze is locked on the scenery before them; the overlook giving way to the quiet town below them, lit up faintly, though it’s nothing compared to the glittering sky above. “You’d do the same for me.”

Frank snorts. “You wouldn’t put yourself in a position like this.”

Mel hums, finally turning her gaze to look at him. “No, probably not. But if I ever did, I know you’d look out for me.”

They lock eyes and a quiet settles over them, before Frank blurts out, “You look good with your hair down.”

That’s all it takes for Mel to blush and reach a hand up to self-consciously tuck a few locks behind her ear. “Thanks…”

Her hair hadn’t been the only thing he’d noticed—and whether it’s the genuine attraction or the hurt pride of Abby blowing him off, Frank can’t bring himself to feel ashamed for checking her out. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“Seriously, Mel, you’re way too perfect for me. Like, everything about you, everything you do…”

“You’re drunk,” Mel says dismissively, finally averting her gaze.

“I’m not,” Frank insists, and without thinking, he reaches out to touch the side of her face, making her look at him again. “I’m feeling a lot more sober now, thanks to you…”

When they lock eyes again, Frank decides that looking into Mel’s eyes beats stargazing any night.

Mel doesn’t pull away, doesn’t flinch, but stares back at him, and Frank swears her doe eyes could do him in.

He’s moving in on instinct, and can feel Mel stiffen beneath his touch as she says, “What about Abby?”

“What about her?”

“Frank…”

“I don’t think she wants to talk to me right now,” Frank admits. “She’s been ignoring me all night.”

Not that it’s anything new. 

“Oh, I—”

Mel has always wanted to be a mom—it’s something she’s known since she was a child, it had just been put on the backburner until now. Technically, she’s a mom-to-be, but she’s well into her third trimester so she feels like she could burst any day now.

She’s beyond ready to get it over with. 

She’d been nervous at the thought of giving birth at first, but now, with her heels kicked up and Frank massaging her swollen ankles and feet, she’d love nothing more than to get this baby out of her.

“I know we talked about possibly having two, but I don’t know if I can do this again,” Mel says, and as if on cue, she feels a kick to the ribs.

Frank chuckles lightly, knowingly. “Anything you want, sweetheart.”

Smart man.

@kingdonmicrofic | day 18: parade | rating: G | word count: 347/347 | cw: n/a | santos pov; santos is an unreliable narrator | gif credit goes to japril from here | ao3

She should get over it, she knows that, seeing as how Robby seems hellbent on not doing anything about it. Trinity is used to the feeling of injustice; it’s something she knows very well.

Doesn’t piss her off any less. 

It doesn’t matter that Langdon had given her an, arguably, insincere apology. It doesn’t change anything—especially not when she knows that if it had been someone like her doing the same thing she would’ve been fired, been barred, and serving jail time. It’s the injustice of it all that really eats her up.

But no one really seems to care. Not Robby, not Yolanda, and certainly not Mel.

Since Langdon’s return, she’s watched the two parade around with each other, smiling and laughing with Mel looking at Langdon like he hung the stars in the sky. Trinity likes Mel—she’s fun to mess with—but she really doesn’t know what Mel sees in Langdon. She’d noticed on day one how attached at the hip the two were and while she didn’t really get how or why—other than the obvious favoritism—it made sense for why Mel would be fawning over him.

She needs to be charting, lest she fall behind and have Robby or Al-Hashimi bitching at her for it, but she can’t take her eyes off of the pair in question. They’re far enough away that they don’t notice her staring, but not so far away that she doesn’t notice the way Frank touches Mel’s arm or the way Mel brings a hand to her mouth to stifle a giggle.

“Do you see that?” Trinity nudges Whitaker next to her, gaining his attention.

“See what?”

Trinity rolls her eyes and chides, “Pay attention, Huckleberry. Mel and Langdon over there. They seem pretty…close.”

Whitaker gives her a look like this isn’t anything new and Trinity resists the urge to kick him under the table.

“Well, aren’t they dating?”

Trinity’s jaw might as well be on the floor, eyes wide. “What? Since when?”

Whitaker shrugs and Trinity looks back at the pair.

They really shouldn’t be doing this. They’re both drunk—tipsy at the very least—and not thinking clearly. Yet, here they are, with Frank’s lips on Mel’s, as he blindly attempts to unlock the door to his house. His parents aren’t home so they’ll have the whole house to themselves and the thought alone sets Mel’s skin ablaze.

Frank only pulls away from her to push the door open and usher them both inside. It’s dark and Mel can hardly see anything in the dim light of the foyer. She barely has time to, anyway, as she feels Frank crowd her back against the door and his lips find hers again.

This time, Mel pulls back, still a bit breathless from before, as she asks, “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

Frank is hardly deterred from kissing her, instead moving to attach his lips to her jaw, kissing along it before murmuring hotly into her ear. “They’ll be gone ‘til tomorrow night; s’fine…”

Mel’s eyes flutter shut, gasping when she feels him nip at her earlobe. “No, not just them, I mean—”

“You don’t have to worry about Abby,” Frank says, and Mel has a full body shiver as he runs his tongue along the hinge of her jaw. “We’re not together…”

That should be good enough, but the truth is that it’s a well-known fact that Frank and Abby have a near constant on-again-off-again relationship. It’s certainly not healthy, but Mel isn’t sure that what they’re doing right now is healthy either.

Mel hates to think of herself as a rebound, but it’s hard to ignore that every time Frank starts going through it, especially when it comes to issues with Abby, he goes to her—which is fine, they’re friends—and something like this happens. It’s not like she does anything to stop it; she doesn’t want to stop it, but she knows it’s not fair either. She wants more, but she’ll take what she can get, even if it’s hardly enough.

So instead, she tries to clear her mind, which isn’t hard once she feels Frank’s hand moving up her thigh and her skin feels like it’s on fire.

“Frank…”

“You can tell me to stop…”

Mel doesn’t, can’t bring herself to, doesn’t want to.

She feels his fingers pressing against her inner thigh and fights the urge to clench her thighs around his hand. She swears she can feel Frank smirking against the side of her neck, moaning in spite of herself when he finally makes contact over her panties.

“Should I stop?” Frank teases, nipping at her neck as his fingers start to rub at her through the barrier.

Briefly, Mel has the thought of strangling him, but her body betrays her, hips rolling against his hand.

The movement stops suddenly, making Mel whine.

“I need an answer, sweetheart…”

Goddammit.

“Don’t stop, just—” she hesitates. “Do we have to do it here?”

“What’s going on here?” Mel says, bemused, upon entering the apartment. She hadn’t been gone that long—just enough to grab pizza for dinner.

“Melly!” Penny chirps with excitement. “I made daddy pretty, see?”

They’re sitting on the floor, Frank’s hair messily pushed back with a headband and his face— Mel can’t help herself as she erupts into giggles when he turns to look at her.

“What’re you laughing at?” he says, unbothered, sticking out his tongue. “I look pretty!”

“Yeah! He looks pretty!” Penny defends, not looking up from his face, concentrating as she adds more sparkly blush to his cheeks.

“Oh, yeah,” Mel agrees, setting down the pizza and coming over to perch herself on the couch, “Very pretty.”

Frank’s face is a mess of sparkly glitter eyeshadow, blush, and lipgloss that looks like it has confetti in it. Mel’s face itches for him.

* * *

Afterwards, once they’ve had dinner and Frank has corralled the kids into their beds, Mel saunters up to him, biting her lip around a smile.

“Penny wanted us to be princesses,” he supplies, and Mel giggles again.

“And what a pretty princess you are,” she teases lightly, pulling him down to kiss him. “But we should probably get you cleaned up.”

Frank snorts. “Yes, please. Join me?”

Mel doesn’t know how to tell Frank that she doesn’t like his new sheets. So when he asks if she wants to stay over at his place a second time—after spending a sleepless night on the first—she makes up an excuse. And when he asks another time, she makes up another excuse.

Becca wants to come over; I’m too tired to go anywhere right now; I’m sorry I didn’t see that you had texted me.

They weren’t good excuses, but Mel didn’t know how to tell them that the way silk felt made her want to crawl out of her skin. She supposed she could be straightforward and honest about it, but she didn’t want to come off as demanding or make him change anything about his lifestyle or the things he liked. So, coming up with excuses seemed like the lesser of two evils at first. Maybe she could wait it out until he changed his sheets back to the cotton ones she actually liked.

Frank apparently had different plans.

Mel doesn’t get visitors often, so she nearly jumps out of her skin when she hears a knock at the door. She marks her place in her book—one of her preferred routines when winding down for bed—and makes her way to the door. She only opens it after looking through the peephole and seeing that it’s Frank.

“Frank, what’re—”

“Did I do something wrong?” There’s a look in his eye that Mel isn’t sure she’s seen before, at least not on him; not directed at her. He’s worried—panicked, even.

“No, why would you think that?” Mel asks, immediately feeling bad. She knows that she hasn’t exactly been forthcoming about her real reasons for avoiding staying over at his house.

“Because you don’t want to stay the night? You aren’t answering my messages?”

Mel feels a rock in the pit of her stomach. She knows she needs to come clean.

Stepping aside, she lets him into the apartment, apologizing as she closes and locks the door behind him.

“It’s nothing you did,” she insists. “I mean, not intentionally.”

“Intentionally?” 

Mel wants to kick herself.

“No, no— I just mean… I haven’t been ignoring your texts on purpose or anything, and I like coming over to your house but…” She wrings her hands together, chewing on the inside of her cheek. “I really, really hate your bedsheets. I can’t touch them. I don’t want to sleep on them, but I know you like them so I’d never ask you to change—”

Mel cuts herself off as Frank suddenly lets out a bark of laughter. She stares at him, utterly confused.

“Mel, baby, you could’ve just told me you don’t like the way silk feels,” he says, closing the distance between them, grasping gently at her elbows.

“But you like them—”

Frank shakes his head and snorts. “Fuck those sheets, sweetheart. I’ll sleep on whatever makes you the most comfortable.”