#this was unexpected

and what if santos decides to nickname mel ‘princess of the pitt.’ and what if, somehow, the nickname travels because yes, actually, everyone likes mel enough to go along with the bit (even princess herself, especially princess because she thinks it’s hilarious from her perspective). and what if most of mel’s colleagues are suddenly calling her princess (robby isn’t sure of it, doesn’t really do nicknames as such anyway especially with the more junior residents, appropriateness and all that. but abbot loves it and somehow manages to pull it off in a way that is not at all strange and is in fact, almost paternal? which. mel isn’t going to think about that actually), which is—a little disarming and mel isn’t entirely sure if she likes it but she also knows she’s not the butt of any joke and it’s all coming from a place of genuine care and appreciation so—fine she’ll go along with it, maybe even come to enjoy it in an odd sense. and what if, after a few days of this, she comes to the realisation that the only ED member not calling her princess is dr. langdon. and, well. it’s no big deal really, it’s just a silly nickname and anyway santos bestows a new one on her colleagues every two weeks but. but. he’s the only one not using it. and mel thought they were fine, her and dr. langdon, were good even, back to working seamlessly together, a team. he’s going on 6 months sober, the dust has long since settled on his divorce, enough that tanner and millie have adjusted to it all which means langdon has finally adjusted to it all and, well. he asks her if she’s okay a minimum of five times a shift, sometimes more, always in that soft voice and with those intent eyes he seems to reserve for only her. he tells her she’s doing great, perfect. he offers to drive her home after particularly gruelling shifts and sits next to her in the break room, almost holding her hand, when they lose a child. he does all of that and so much more but he doesn’t call her princess. it itches at her, constantly, and she can’t help herself, she blurts it out, asks him. why. why don’t you. and then he looks at her, beloved blue eyes searching, roving across her face, saying so much that she can’t untangle one thing from the mess of it all. and her heart is beating out of her chest and she’s wringing her hands almost involuntarily because what on earth was the need to ask, it’s just a stupid nickname and she doesn’t care, she doesn’t. but before she can put any of this into coherent sentences, he speaks. shakily, tentative in a way he’s never been around her. ‘it’s too much and too little. i can’t just—say it and move on. it’s. i would mean it too much.’ and what if, eventually the nickname falls out of favour, as they usually do, but there is frank, coming up to mel where she stands near her locker and, in full earshot of their colleagues says, ‘ready princess?’ as he jangles his car keys before bending down to kiss her cheek.