@kingdonmicrofic || rated: g || word count: 500 || day 8: midnight || cross-posted on ao3
He’s half convinced that he’s asleep. Maybe he’s already gone home with Abby, flipped on the mattress in their guest bedroom that has become his permanent residence and he’s already wandered off to the dream world. But the chaos of the ER is too loud for him to be dreaming.
“Kiss me,” Mel repeats, her eyes wide and her pupils blown in the dim light of the staircase they are taking a break in. When Dana told him last week — apologetically — that they needed him on New Year’s Eve because they were short on staff, this was the last thing he’d think would happen. He didn’t complain about it, of course — he knew he had no right to demand NYE off when he was back on sabbatical and he had already gotten Christmas off. But he didn’t think he’d be rewarded for it. Christ. “I mean — if you don’t want to, you don’t have to but I thought—”
Frank doesn’t let her ramble on any more, snapping out of his surprise and pulling her in just as the crowd in the ED cheer, celebrating the arrival of 2027. This, he thinks as he breathes in Mel’s scent, pulling her flush against him and pushing his fingers through her braid, determined to pull strands of hair free, is my new year’s resolution. I want to do more of this.
When she pulls away, he already misses her. C’mere, he wants to say and pull her back in. “Thank you,” Mel says like the perfect polite little girl she is, pressing her palms to her cheeks. “I had never done that on New Year’s.”
Fuck, she plans on killing him. That can be the only explanation because she is looking at him with flushed cheeks, her eyes glassy and wide and so thoroughly kissed that her lips are a bit swollen and red even without lipstick. Frank feels something stir inside of him — animalistic and hungry. More, someone growls inside of him, more of her.
But then she’s turning to leave and Frank’s brain short-circuits because what the fuck and so he’s wrapping his fingers around her wrist, tugging her slightly so she’s off her kilter, almost falling in his arms as he presses his lips against hers. She lets out a gulp of surprise that he swallows before it’s fully out, his pulse mixing with hers as his thumb rests against her carotid artery. He wonders if she can taste the cigarette on him, if she feels the heat building up against them and the need he feels to get lost inside of her, to crawl into her and stay there forever.
It’s too soon when their lungs give out and they have to pull away. “That was…” Mel starts, her eyes wide. Shakes her head. Tries again. “That was…” Still nothing.
“Langdon, we need you,” Dana’s voice comes from the bottom of the staircase.
“Coming,” he clears his throat. “Happy New Year, Melissa.” And then, he’s gone.
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