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“You might want to ease up there or else your dentist bill is gonna skyrocket.” Mohan doesn’t look up from where she’s charting her last patient. “I can refer you to mine - get a discount.”
At some point in rehab, Langdon promised himself he’d do a better job at listening. So even if he wants to ignore her, he sighs and says, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He loosens his jaw, pretending he wasn’t just grinding his teeth.
He made no promises about lying. (Actually, he did, but he thinks Dr. Shankar wasn’t referring to meddling coworkers sticking their noses into his personal life that was very much not their business.)
Mohan huffs and glances at him sideways. “Sure. We can play it that way. Ignorance.” She twists in her chair. “So you’re not, once again, grinding your teeth while sending death glares at Baker?”
“Who’s Baker?”
“The really cute EMT who’s been flirting with Mel all week.”
Langdon, of course, knows exactly who she’s talking about. He learned his name on Monday when he beamed up at Mel after she correctly predicted that their new patient was allergic to shellfish when she saw the hot sauce bottle in his hands. The EMT - fucking Baker - had been impressed when Mel had finished his sentence and handed over the bottle. “Exactly… Doctor…?”
“King. But everyone calls me Mel.” She had thrown that last part over her shoulder as she followed Langdon into another room and Langdon hadn’t thought too much about it at the time.
But then it was Tuesday.
And Baker was back.
Wheeling in a man from an MVI, Baker brightened when Mel ran over, nodding and listening for the handover. As Mel quickly ordered out instructions to Jesse, Langdon watched as Baker looked at her with a very familiar awestruck expression - it was one he sometimes had to run a hand down his face to clear.
Later, when Langdon is completing the chart for his latest patient, he watches Barker loitering outside the trauma room. When Mel comes out, Barker doesn’t bother to hide his interest. He blatantly flirts with Mel, calling her beautiful and smart and funny, and Mel smiles back, mostly politely but with a softness that makes his chest ache, and Langdon decides to check on his patient in South 15 instead of dwelling on that further.
Mel was off on Wednesday.
Langdon saw Baker pouting when he came in, Ahmad rolling his eyes after delivering the news.
In his opinion, Langdon thought it wasn’t very attractive.
And now - now it’s Thursday.
Mohan nudges him with her shoulder. “You know, you could, I don’t know. Talk to her.”
“Funny,” he says, giving her only a quick glance. “I do talk to her.”
“You know what I mean.”
Langdon did. He really did. But Mohan didn’t get it. He couldn’t tell Mel that it pissed him off seeing Baker flirt with her. He couldn’t tell her that he wanted to march over there and wrap his arm around her waist like a caveman, marking her as his. Because she wasn’t his. But despite everything, Langdon really wanted her to be.
But he couldn’t.
Because she deserved way better than his addict divorced asshole self.
So when Dana calls out another trauma incoming, Langdon grabs a pair of gloves and pointedly ignores the storm weathering in his stomach.
But then it’s Friday.
“Dr. Langdon?”
Langdon tenses, but slowly turns around, fake smile plastered on his face. “Hey… Barker, right?”
“Baker,” says the man, easy smile unfailing. “Do you have a second?”
“I actually have a patient I was about to check on - ”
“It’s about Dr. King. Mel.”
Langdon sticks his head into the nearest room. Empty. “In here.”
Baker follows him, still grinning like his goldendoodle puppy Benny - unaffected and at ease, and for a reason that Langdon doesn’t want to think too hard on, it makes his stomach simmer at a low boil.
“What is it?” says Langdon. He tucks his hands across his ribs. To protect himself. To seem intimidating. He’s not sure which.
Baker is unfazed. “I want to ask out Dr. King.”
Langdon blinks. Oh. Except - he should have expected this. He isn’t that surprised. But why - “Okay. And?” He frowns deeply. “What does this have to do with me?”
“Well,” says Baker, uncertainty finally flickering across his face and Langdon tries not to take triumph in it, “everyone says you two are really close, and you’re her friend…”
Langdon doesn’t respond. He doesn’t really know what to say to that - because, yes, Mel is his best friend and he suspects he’s hers, and they don’t exactly hide that at work, but what does that have anything to do with asking her out on a date -
Baker clears his throat, his hands crossed behind him. He bounces on his heels. It’s a familiar gesture - Langdon knows he’s done it too many times - that usually indicates the speaker is nervous.
Good.
“I just - well - ” Baker shakes his head and grins again. Unflappable. It almost reminds Langdon of Mel. He internally groans at the thought. Baker scratches his neck. “I was hoping you could give me some advice.”
“Advice?”
“Yeah. Advice.” Baker looks him straight in the eye, seriously, and Langdon almost wants to punch him. “You know Dr. King - Mel - the best. I know she’s… you know… different.”
“Different,” repeats Langdon flatly. A spark ignites in his chest.
“I don’t mean that in a bad way!” Baker quickly corrects, hands up and Langdon feels that little spark of fire extinguish. There’s still a boiling in his gut though, rough and sticky, and his jaw feels tight. Baker lowers his hands. “I just know she might be specific about what she enjoys and I want to impress her on a first date so… I thought I’d ask you.”
Langdon waits. Part of it might be a scare tactic. The longer he says nothing, the more nervous the other man becomes and most of Langdon delights in that. But also - he doesn’t really know what to say.
What he wants to say goes something like this:
Mel hates grand gestures, so when you ask her out, it needs to be private, just between you and her. Not in front of everyone or at the Pitt.
But even before you ask, you need to make sure you’ve gotten her sister Becca’s blessing - because if Becca doesn’t like you, then none of it means anything.
Mel likes Twizzlers and coffee with a lot of milk but no sugar. Don’t take her to a coffee shop for a first date. Or a bar. Too loud, too much going on. Go on a walk, especially if you have a dog. Mel loves dogs. Or dinner, but somewhere quiet. But not too fancy, because she hates dressing up if she doesn’t have to, especially if you don’t give her plenty of warning on the dress code to give her enough time to plan. Because she’s a planner.
Do not take her to a movie. What is the point? Then you don’t get to talk to her, to get to know her - and that’s what’s most important to Mel. Knowing each other. Learning each other. Mel may appear awkward and stiff, but she is sensual and witty, a worthy partner in banter and teasing. But only if you’ve stuck around long enough to sneak into her good graces, to slip under her skin. Because she needs to be comfortable. To be known.
(Mel once told Langdon she was demisexual and it made all the puzzle pieces click into place.)
But most importantly: to ask out Melissa King, you need to be worthy of her. You need to get on your knees and beg for her. You need to be willing to rip your heart out of your chest and leave it at her feet, uncertain if she’ll stomp on it or pick it up to cradle safely in her palms.
Really, Langdon thinks: you need to love her more than me.
But what he actually decides to say is:
“Just ask her.” His voice is tighter than he perhaps wants. His hands slip from hugging his chest to gripping his biceps. He may flex involuntarily. Or voluntarily. “She’s an adult, grown woman. If she likes you, she’ll say yes.”
Baker looks disappointed. “Well, yeah, I know that, but like - where would she want to go, you know?”
“If you have to ask me,” says Langdon slowly, hoping he’s somehow able to mask the impatience currently overtaking him, “then maybe you shouldn’t ask her out.” He taps a finger against his arm, suddenly very restless.
Baker catches the change in his demeanor, even if subtle. He frowns. “You two - everyone says you’re just friends, but…”
Langdon doesn’t want to touch that . So he shrugs, dropping his arms to his sides and forcing his shoulders to relax. “Mel is my best friend. I care about her. I want her to be happy.” He tilts his head. “Are you going to make her happy?”
“Uh… yeah. Sure.”
Langdon doesn’t like that answer - at all - and his jaw tenses. “Sure?”
Baker laughs. “Yeah, yeah, of course, I can. Gotta get her to say yes to the date first though.” He tosses his hands up and backs away. “Anyway… thanks for your help. I guess.”
“Anytime.”
Langdon watches the other man slip out of the room. He takes a moment to catalogue his body and emotions - a technique he learned in rehab to build self-awareness and be more in tune with himself.
Deep breath in, deep exhale out.
Langdon understands that his body is tense - his hands are not quite shaking, but he does need to move, too much restless energy suddenly threatening his system, so he’s eager to get back to work. But he also recognizes that he wants to avoid - he wants to avoid the conflicting feelings that are battling against his ribs.
He’s upset. He’s angry. He’s resigned. He’s jealous.
Mel has been on dates before.
Langdon knows this, because they are friends - best friends, actually - and because he is supportive and a good listener. Mel shares stories about the bad first dates (got too drunk, or wouldn’t stop tallking about her ex, or didn’t even bother to show up) and will hesitantly confess to the good ones (Langdon pretends he doesn’t keep glancing at his phone waiting for an I’m home text and tries not read into it when it doesn’t come in until 7am the next morning.) Usually, she meets them on a dating app that Becca helps her run. Langdon likes to screen them beforehand and Mel rolls her eyes and lets him.
(Langdon has not been on a date himself. For the first year after rehab, it was for his recovery’s sake. For the second year out of rehab, it was because… well, he didn’t really want to.)
So Mel dates and Langdon is her friend, so he is supportive and doesn’t feel any way about Mel spending her time with other people, laughing and joking with them, potentially kissing them, maybe even -
Langdon is good about not thinking too hard about it.
Until now - because this is the first time he’s been directly approached about it.
By fucking Baker.
And now, confronted with the reality that this golden retriever of a man is interested in Mel and wants to ask her out and is maybe hours away from sliding up to her and receiving one of her gentle smiles that are usually reserved for him - Langdon feels dizzy. His vision is hazy. There’s a tight grip in the middle of his chest, almost twisting, and he absolutely hates it.
But it all comes back to the same dead end- it doesn’t really matter what he’s feeling. He’s Langdon - addict, divorcee, and a mess. She’s Mel - his best friend, human sunshine, and way out of his league.
This is the first time he’s been truly faced with the idea of Mel dating someone else. Being someone else’s. Because no matter who she swipes right on, no matter who she has dinner with, she always comes back to him.
But that wouldn’t always be the case, would it? And Langdon has to accept that - because Mel deserves to have someone to be hers. Fully and completely. She deserves to hold someone’s total heart, stable and steady, not the shards of jagged edges and cracked glass of his own.
Langdon breathed again - four in, four out.
Avoidance, maybe. Or perhaps acceptance. Either way: he slipped back into the fray.
It’s not unusual for Langdon to wait for Mel at the lockers at the end of their shifts.
It is unusual for her to be this late.
When Mohan gives him a pointed look before nudging his arm with her elbow on the way out, Langdon almost wants to throw up. Or leave.
(Or sneak back onto the floor and see if he finds a spare pill on the floor… the thought is fleeting but there and Langdon quickly grabs a piece of gum.)
Mel comes back, face flushed and a small smile on her lips and his stomach drops.
“Oh, Langdon, you didn’t have to wait - ”
“Did he ask you out?”
Langdon almost winces when he says it. He doesn’t mean to say it like - harsh, almost barking, defensive and a little mean. He closes his eyes and exhales. “Sorry. That was - ”
Mel avoids his eyes and opens her locker, face completely stoic. There is no longer a happy glow to her - instead, she looks pale and a little angry.
He’s fucked up.
He knew this was bound to happen eventually.
“Yes, Baker asked me out.” Mel pulls out her bag from her locker without looking at him.
“He asked me for help.” Langdon tries to push down the panic slowly rising, but instead, his mouth keeps moving. “To ask you out, I mean. I told him - well it doesn’t matter what I told him but - I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
Mel freezes just as she’s about to close her locker door. “What?”
Logically, Langdon knows he should stop. But: “I don’t think you should go out with him.”
She pauses, like she’s considering his words. Slowly, she shuts her locker and faces him. “You don’t want me to go out with him.”
“N - no. I think.” Langdon tucks his hands under his arms. “I think it’d be a bad idea.”
“Why do you suddenly have a problem with me going on a date?”
“I don’t - ” Langdon shakes his head and swallows. “I don’t have a problem with you dating. Obviously.” His throat feels dry and sore and every time he speaks, it sounds like he’s talking through gravel. Mel’s frown deepens. “I just think this guy - Barker - ”
“Baker.”
“Right, Baker,” he says without stopping, because something in his brain just isn’t firing and his mouth is going and his nerves are fraying and he feels unmoored, “he’s not. Good enough.”
“Good enough?”
“For you.” Langdon shakes his head and steps closer to her. Maybe it’s desperation now. He almost wants to fall to his knees. But that’d be too close to the advice he wanted to give - and that’d be too close to admitting that he wants to ask her out and well… “Mel, you deserve better.”
Mel raises an eyebrow as she slips her backpack over her shoulder. “I deserve better.” Every time she repeats his words back to him, he feels another piece of his sanity slip.
He’s fucking this all up.
He can’t stop.
“You’re… amazing and kind and have so much love to give, but Barker, Baker - whatever - he’s not good enough. He’s not right for you. He didn’t even know where he’d want to take you! He had to ask me of all people, as if I’ve been on a first date in over six years.” He’s moved closer to her and she hasn’t back away, but something about the way she holds her shoulders tight is ringing alarm bells in his head.
He should stop. He should shut up.
“He said you were different, Mel.”
Mel puts up a hand. “I am different, Langdon.” Something about the way she says his name freezes him, quiets every part of his brain that was just spiraling. “I thought you knew that.”
“I do! I know!” Langdon groans, running a hand down his face. His hair probably looks disheveled. He likely looks like the mess he is. “I’m not saying this right.”
“No, you’re really not.” Mel surveys him for a moment, quiet and calm, but her lips are pursed hard and she keeps a notable physical distance from him. It stings in a way he mostly didn’t expect. “He already asked me.”
“Right.” He inhales, hoping, but somehow knowing…
“I said yes.”
Of course.
Of course.
As she should, obviously, because he’s just acting out of misplaced fear and selfishness and being an idiot, because she knows better than to listen to him, because in this instance he’s wrong, and he’ll taint her and mark her and bury her, when she’s already so much more stronger than him.
He clears his throat. “Right. Okay. Good.” Like a switch flips in his head, he stuffs his hands in his pockets and nods, looking down at his feet. “Right. I’m happy for you.”
Mel snorts in disbelief. “You just spent the last few minutes trying to convince me that I shouldn’t go on this date and now you want to lie and tell me you’re happy for me?” She shakes her head. “I don’t believe you.”
Langdon opens his mouth but then closes it. Because - she’s right. There’s nothing to say.
“I don’t know why you’re suddenly not okay with this guy and not any of the other dates I’ve been on,” says Mel, finally taking a step closer as she lowers her voice. Langdon finally realizes that they’ve been alone in the locker rooms for too long and their luck at not being interrupted is sure to quickly run out. “And I’m not sure why you get to suddenly decide there’s an issue here when you’re the one so adamantly declaring us to be just friends. So when you figure what you want to do about that, let me know. But tomorrow I will be meeting Steven for coffee.”
Langdon tries not to grit his teeth. Coffee. With Steven. Mel hates coffee dates. And Steven Baker? What kind of name was that?
But he’s done enough. “You’re my friend, Mel. I care about you.”
The disappointment on her face fades, softening for just a moment. “I care about you too, Frank. Which is why I don’t understand what’s going on. You’re acting like you … If you wanted to - ” She stop, biting her lip, and Langdon desperately wants her to continue. Instead, she moves towards the exit. “I’ll text Samira for an exit plan if I need one.”
Langdon watches her go, her blonde braid swaying behind her, but it’s the disappointment and confusion in her eyes that stays with him, her unfinished thought nagging at his brain.
Langdon spends Saturday at home with his kids. Tanner and Kenzie are enthusiastic and exhausting and completely all-encompassing, so Langdon can’t dwell too long on how his stomach flips when he thinks of Mel.
After he tucks them both into bed, he tries not to spend the rest of the night staring at his phone, desperately waiting for Mel to call. He definitely does not imagine her dressed up and laughing at fucking Steven Baker during their dinner date. He doesn’t imagine her flushed and beaming, that pink tint he loves painted down her neck. Langdon is used to Mel going on dates and spending time with other men and women - but this time…
Maybe it’s because Mel didn’t text him before, reassuring him she’d reach out if she needed him. Maybe it’s because of how they left that last conversation - her frowning, disappointment in her eyes, and Langdon’s stomach threatening to eat itself. The guilt, mixed with that cloying feeling he does not want to put a name to that’s gnawing at his ribs, is almost unbearable.
And whenever he closes his eyes, he can hear her: You’re acting like you… if you wanted to…
The unspoken completions to those sentences sit heavy in his gut.
Langdon almost calls his sponsor.
Instead, he puts on Die Hard and falls asleep on his couch.
After seven hundred and twenty-two days clean and sober, Langdon works the night shift on New Year’s Eve. Of course, since it’s a Sunday night and a holiday, they’re a little short-staffed, but when he walks in fifteen minutes before the change, he’s a little surprised to see Mel there.
“Hey,” he says softly, tentatively.
Mel glances at him as they wait for Abbot to start rounds, before sighing. “Hi.”
He doesn’t know what to say. It’s awkward. And he doesn’t like that - what he and Mel have is supposed to be comfortable and easy and natural. Silences are purposeful and comforting, not awkward and tense.
Well - not that there isn’t tension. But Langdon knows that the tension is fully from his side and is unrequited and he does his best not to think about it. Because then he’ll imagine Mel’s lips and the soft skin of her neck and how her hands linger against his own when they’re moving in sync.
But after what Mel said the other day… he starts to wonder if maybe this isn’t as one-sided as he thought.
Before he can approach her to start a semblance of an apology, Abbot claps his hands to get their attention.
And the New Year's night shift begins.
At fifteen minutes before midnight, Langdon finds Mel on the roof.
It would be a lie to say he wasn’t looking for her - he’s always looking for her, really, but especially tonight, even as their paths never seemed to cross. He’s not sure if it’s purposeful from her end. They had one shared patient maybe two hours ago, but there was no time for talking or check-ins - just blood, and precision, and adrenaline.
Now, though -
“I’m sorry,” says Langdon, leaning against the railing beside her. He’d purposefully made his footsteps loud enough not to startle her, and he must have succeeded because she barely looks in his direction. He runs a hand through his hair, and then down his face, before gripping the railing again. It keeps his hands from shaking. “I shouldn’t have come at you like that - if I had concerns, I shouldn’t have done it that way.”
“Hm.” Her voice is soft, pondering. She lets the sound sit there in their silence as the seconds tick by, the busy city night restless below them. Finally, she turns around to face him. “You were right though.”
Langdon frowns. “How?”
“He wasn’t right for me.”
Langdon turns now too, mirroring her stance, hip resting against the railing while their hands stay put. If he extended his pinky, he might be able to touch hers. “I’m sorry.”
Mel shakes her head. “I’m not.” She doesn’t look away from his face - in fact, she studies him. She does this a lot, he knows, and he’s never been uncomfortable about it - when it comes to Mel King, he wants to splay himself bare. To be his most vulnerable. He’s never been able to hide from her anyway and if she asked him to spill all his secrets, he wouldn’t hesitate to write them all down for her for safe-keeping.
When she bites her lip, eyes flickering between his, Langdon feels a rush of heat in his chest.
“What’s wrong?” he asks softly.
“You were jealous, weren’t you?” It’s phrased like a question, but it sinks into his bones like a statement. It’s a fact. She knows. He knows. He swallows and doesn’t answer right away so Mel smiles, tentative. “Why haven’t you said anything?”
He could lie. He could say he didn’t understand. That they’re just friends and it isn’t his place and he has absolutely no romantic feelings for her whatsoever, at all.
Instead he says: “Because I love you.”
Mel blinks, mouth falling open. “What?”
Langdon lets the words fall without thinking about them. He’s always been impulsive anyway.
“I love you. I love you so much but I’m not… I’m not right for you.” Langdon lets go of the railing and shakes his head when Mel opens her mouth to interrupt. “No, Mel - I’m an addict. I’m divorced and I have two kids and I’m barely enough to be a dad for them. And even though they should be my priority - they are my priority, they are - I like you the most. But you deserve someone good and stable, who knows who they are. You deserve…” Langdon stops, because his voice cracks and despite thinking the words daily for the past two years, somehow saying it aloud hurts. Feels unnatural. “You deserve someone - better. Not me.”
Mel puts her hand on his chest. It stops him - quiets him, in that way she always does, where she can wrangle the storm that threatens every thought and limb and instead stretches it out into a peaceful calm that he slowly untangles strand by strand.
A countdown starts below them, loud and off-key. One minute.
Mel inhales, bracing herself, before looking up at him with determination in her eyes.
“I do deserve someone better. Someone good and stable and who knows who they want be.” She steps closer, her hand an anchor over his heart. “I want someone like that too - who is passionate, who is driven, who is loving and caring. A man who loves his kids, no matter what. A man who loves his job and wants to save people.” She shakes his head with a smile when he opens his mouth. “I deserve a man who is strong enough to admit to his weaknesses, to get help, who fights every day to be better than them.”
Langdon's chest aches. “Mel…”
“Frank,” she says, the tips of their shoes touching, both her hands now resting on his chest. “I deserve someone who loves me just as much as I love them. I deserve you. ”
He feels dizzy and full and everything is hazy but also completely clear, all at once. Her fingers slip up his shoulders to play with the hair at the back of his neck. He leans down, resting his forehead against hers. “Are you sure?”
Thirty seconds.
She laughs, more of a giggle, and he slowly moves to hold her face in his hands. He feels her words when she says: “I love you, Frank. I’m sure.” His thumb runs down her cheek and she leans into his touch. “I like you the most, too, you know.”
“Except for Becca.”
Her grin is blinding. “I love Becca. I still like you the most.”
Somewhere below, the countdown rises in volume. Hopeful and eager, voices drunk and loud. But Langdon doesn’t care that there are still ten seconds left until midnight.
He kisses her. Gentle and soft, a lingering touch of his lips against hers. He stays there, unmoving, imprinting the moment into his memory. The way she smiles, her hands in his hair, her breath warm against his face.
But then someone screams Happy New Year and they both probably need to head back downstairs to their patients and new cases, but before that Langdon looks into her bright, shining eyes as he cradles her face in his hands and then kisses Mel harder, with promise and purpose, and swallows her sighs and savors the taste of her moans.
When Mel pulls back, she holds his hands against her cheeks. Her thumb runs across his wrists. “Your pulse is racing.”
Langdon raises an eyebrow. “Can you blame me?”
She keeps her thumb against his pulse all the way back to the ER. It eventually settles, but to a baseline level of this is really fucking happening and he only lets go of her hands when his pager goes off.
(Seven hours later, at the end of their shift, he drives her home and she invites him upstairs and he kisses her for hours, holds her in his arms, and they fall asleep tangled together in the heat of the morning sun. It’s the best sleep he’s had in at
least
eight hundred days.)