@tillkingdoncum on twitter & ao3

MEL KING

Day 16-Glitter | Exact WC 227 | ao3 | @kingdonmicrofic

The morning of July 4th, Mel decided to take Becca’s advice and add a little “razzle-dazzle” to her usual look. She walked into her room and rummaged around for the container of patriotic hair glitter.

She pulled her hair back into two french-braids. She dipped her fingers into the goop, and begrudgingly smeared a small amount across the top of her head. Not too much. Just enough to add a little sparkle.

That 4th of July shift would be the worst Mel ever experienced.

The case that got her most was a family of four that had gotten into a boating accident. The mother and father succumbed to their injuries, leaving their daughters behind. Her last case of the night.

Frank found her doubled over in the ambulance bay, her hands wound tight as her chest heaved.

The second he stood in front of her she crashed into him, her head buried in his chest as he squeezed her tight, swaying her back and forth.

He stayed with her long after his shift had ended. Long after he should’ve been home.

The next morning Abby would confront him about the glitter she’d found stuck to his scrubs. Asking him if the reason he came home so late was to blow money at the strip club.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @japril 💙 mel's google search history + frank's version by the loveliest rebekah!

frank langdon's google search history ↳ for kate - happy birthday, @japril!

Mel ran hot. She always had. There was something furnace-like inside of her and she burned from the inside.

Frank, warm and broad and newly in love, liked to hold her. He liked to pull her back against his chest and hook his chin over her shoulder and stay like that all night.

By the third night at his place she lay awake sweating with Frank’s sleeping body hot against her, his arms all around her. She couldn’t believe how selfish she felt, but - she thought of her own bed with its cool satin sheets.

In the morning, she asked him: Could we sleep at my place, mostly? Just because I have the satin.

He said of course, of course, and kissed her cheek.

A week later there was a package at her door, and another, she learned, already delivered to his apartment. Silk - real silk - sheets in pearl white. Two sets. One for his bed, one for hers, so that wherever they landed, he could hold her and she could be comfortable. Expensive enough that he would have to put off furnishing his place with a washing machine for another two months at least. 

It’s dumb, but Frank’s kinda embarrassed about having asthma. 

He knows it doesn’t actually correlate with being a dweeb—he’s a doctor, thank you—but he’s never shaken off the laughter of other boys when teachers checked that he had his inhaler, their judgment when he huddled in the corner to puff into it.

Frank wouldn’t be Frank if he wasn’t motivated by spite, though, so he joined cross country and got a scholarship and ran three marathons before graduating med school. He qualified for Boston, bitches. 

Abby always wanted a cigarette when she drank. She’d slip out of parties with a sorority sister or three, a coy glance over her shoulder, and he’d play it off, saying he didn’t like the smell. When they learned about Tanner, Frank couldn’t help but feel a little relieved that he was no longer left behind, watching her laugh with her friends through a pane of glass.

When he gets back, he feels like he’s one wrong move from getting kicked out on his ass—except when he steals a minute with Mel. He didn’t hang out in the ambulance bay before, so he never noticed how many smokers go out there until he faced the choice between risking an attack and spending time with her. He starts carrying around his inhaler.

When he sees the seven-year-old boy staring at the shiny new inhaler in his hand like it’s a death sentence, not the lifesaver that it is, he tells him, “It’ll be ok, bud. I was diagnosed with asthma when I was your age, and I’m training for my sixth marathon.”

He digs his own inhaler out with a flourish. The kid blinks up at him with stars in his eyes. 

He joins Mel in the ambulance bay later, ignoring how her smile warms his whole body. When the new PA and Jesse pop outside, a pack of Marlboros in hand, he knows he needs to head back. He’s about to make his excuse when Mel’s voice cuts through the air.

“Hey, could you guys go somewhere else? This whole area is supposed to be smoke-free.”

Jesse nods, an apology quick on his lips, the PA shrugs, and they amble further down the driveway. Mel watches them with a frown.

“I hope that wasn’t rude. It’s just—you shouldn’t have to go inside because of them, right? And it stresses me out to see healthcare workers smoking outside of hospitals, since it sends mixed messages to patients—why are you looking at me like that? Do I have something on my face?”

“No,” he says, swallowing. “Thanks. I’ve never had someone, uh, do that for me.”

Mel smiles.

“Of course, Frank. I wish you’d told me earlier. Becca has asthma, too, so I’m used to asking smokers to move.”

“Thanks, Mel.”

“Woah, what happened to you?”

At Ellis’s outburst, Mel turns away from her locker and then quickly turns back to hide the laugh that threatens to bubble out of her at the sight of Langdon. She’s lucky she’s not on shift with him today, she thinks, because she doesn’t think she’d be able to concentrate at all.

Of course, he always makes it hard for her to concentrate with those eyes and those arms, but today’s distraction is very different in nature. Today, he’s distracting because it is impossible to take him seriously with his face, hair and hands all completely covered in glitter.

Behind her, Langdon groans in embarrassment. “I did some arts and crafts with Penny and we had a little accident.”

The last word is hissed and Mel hides her smile behind her hand as Ellis lets out an amused snort. “Yeah, I figured.”

“It doesn’t wash off at all either. I’ve showered three times and I still look like this, and since I’m trying to learn to embrace my imperfections, I’ve come to accept that this is my life now.”

From the corner of her eye, Mel can see Ellis look at Langdon warily for a second before crossing her arms over her chest. “Therapy’s done a real number on you, huh?”

Langdon hums in agreement, and Ellis laughs and shakes her head in response. “Well, at least it’ll be a fun shift.”

She laughs again at the middle finger Langdon sends her, before turning to Mel and nodding at her. “Have a good night, King!”

With that, she’s gone, leaving Mel and Langdon alone in the locker room. Mel still doesn’t face him, but she can hear him move until he’s leaning on the locker next to hers, letting out another groan.

“I feel so embarrassed,” he whines, and this time, Mel lets out the giggle she’s been holding in as she turns to him.

“Don’t be, it’s cute,” she blurts before she can think it over and she feels her cheeks heating up as he raises an eyebrow in response, a smirk forming on his lips and an amused twinkle appearing in his eyes.

“Cute?” he repeats, and averting her gaze again, Mel shrugs.

“Well, yeah, you look like this because you’re a good dad who loves his daughter and wanted to spend quality time with her. I think that’s sweet.”

When she looks back up at him again, his smirk has morphed into something more gentle, his face flushed slightly like hers. Running a glittery hand through his glittery hair, he chuckles. “I guess that’s true.”

“You do look a little ridiculous, though,” she teases him, and Langdon’s responding laughter sounds genuine, as if he’s only now truly accepting the hilarity of the situation.

“But cute?” he prods, earnestness in both his gaze and his voice, and combined with all the glitter, she can’t help but feel completely and utterly endeared by him.

There's a little crowd huddled around the nurses' station and Frank has a bad feeling about it. Javadi’s in the middle with her phone out, Princess and Joy leaning in, Santos with a hand over her mouth. A few of them are laughing.

"What's up?" He shoulders his way in. 

Javadi hesitates - that’s a bad sign. Then she tilts her phone so he can see the screen.

He recognizes the woman they're watching immediately: it’s Becca King. They’re watching what looks like a TikTok with Becca King front and center, and she’s doing some sort of choreography with her arms and lip syncing to the music. But behind her, only mostly in frame and also doing the dance, is Mel.

Becca sniffled in the bed across the room, breathing still uneven with upset, even in sleep. In her own bed, Mel snuggled into her mom’s side, blinking back tears that never seemed to fall with an audience. Her mother smoothed down her hair, tugging once on her earlobe, thumb firmly pressed against the gold studs that were still slightly tender from when she got them pierced five months ago. She winced, but didn’t whimper.

You’re always so quiet, her mother whispered. We never have to worry about you.

Her backpack straps dug into her shoulder, shifting uncomfortably in her BIO 313 professor’s office. The bags under her eyes keep growing these days, never enough time in the day for sleep on top of school and Becca and life. With the funeral, she had to miss a week of lectures, too physically exhausted to drive to campus from the apartment that still smelled of her mother’s perfume. It’s understandable why her performance on the midterm was underwhelming. All Dr. Stark had to offer was a bittersweet smile and a knowing look.

You’re a smart kid, he waved off. We never have to worry about you.

Six months into working in Pittsburgh, Mel felt like she was drowning. She worked and slept and worked and slept and nothing else. Every week, she and Becca watched Elf and every week, she’d listen intently to the social dynamics of Middle Hill, living vicariously through her sister’s complex web of friendships to fill the void that she didn’t know she had until a fateful September day. Sometimes, she’d slip up — miss a chart or forget to put in an order. Little things, to see if anyone would notice.

You’re one of our best, Dr. King, Robby assured her instead. We never have to worry about you.

“You really don’t have to do this for me, Frank,” Mel said, hugging her middle tight.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know, but you really don’t have to worry about me.”

Frank frowned.

“Didn’t realize Professor was joining us today,” Dr. Garcia calls as she pushes out of the trauma bay.

Mel’s attention lifts, quickly glancing at the surgeon and the spectacled person she’s teasing, then returning right back to her tablet, then snapping back up when she realizes that Dr. Garcia is talking to Dr. Langdon.

In glasses.

Dark-framed ones that somehow suit his face perfectly, sitting low enough on his nose that he could occasionally glance over the rim. They fit him so well, drawing attention to the little crinkles beside his eyes.

She’s staring, she’s still staring, she’s staring even when he’s right in front of her, waving a hand in her face, snapping her out of her stupor. “Earth to Mel.”

Mel swallows, her mouth woefully dry and her brain painfully sluggish. “Glasses,” she eventually manages. God, and she thought he couldn’t get any more handsome.

“Oh these old things?” He says, adjusting them. “My contacts haven’t come in yet. Do they look as stupid as Yo-yo says?”