Archive of Our Own

Snow is not a rare occurrence in Pittsburgh by any means, so it comes as no surprise to Mel as Robby pulls the dayshift crew into a debrief to let them know the road conditions are worsening by the minute, and the hospital is working to set up overnight rooms for anyone wishing to stay. Her mind immediately shifts to Becca, who she knows will absolutely protest having to stay at the center when it’s supposed to be their weekly sleepover at Mel’s new apartment. Mel isn’t keen on disappointing her sister more so than she already has these past few months. So many times already, she’s bailed on her sister for one reason or another. Extended shifts, general exhaustion, assisting the night shift crew on particularly short-staffed days (nights?). She’s dropped the ball so many times in such a short period, she wonders how the center staff must feel about her. The guilt starts to consume her so heavily that she doesn’t register that someone’s trying to talk to her. 

"Earth to Mel?" A male voice pulls her out of the ever-growing trenches of guilt and selfishness. Her attention snaps toward the voice, and she sees Frank Langdon giving her a concerned, quizzical look. She also notices that the rest of the staff have already dispersed from the debrief, returning to their patients. Her cheeks immediately heat up. 

"What? I’m sorry, did you say something?" 

Frank laughs and places a friendly hand on her shoulder. "I just asked what you were thinking about. I noticed you kind of zoned out during Robby’s speech. Everything okay?" Mel wishes she could ignore how much her skin burns under his completely platonic touch. She’s grown accustomed to Langdon’s touchiness, to an extent. However, it’s moments like these, where he’s checking on her and grounding her back to their shared reality, that she wishes she could step out of her own skin just to avoid the growing feelings she’s developed for the man. 

It’s been just six short months since his return to the Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center. She was overjoyed when she first saw him that day. He was the only decent part of that shift, from what she could recall. Between getting knocked down by her patient, dealing with her deposition, the patient overflow from Westbridge, and everything else in between, Langdon remained the primary positive influence of the day. From then on, the pair had become thick as thieves in the Pitt, running many successful cases together and embracing the educational aspect of their jobs to the fullest extent. Every day, they walked away having learned something new, and feeling reinvigorated in their choice to pursue emergency medicine. Even on the harder days, they always had someone to check in with, to keep standing despite the desire to sink into the floor and leave it all behind. 

Their friendship quickly blossomed from there, and they often helped one another out when it came to their familial obligations. If Mel had to work late on a night she was supposed to be with Becca, he would pick up her sister’s favorite meal and hang out with her for a bit before going home. The first time he offered, Mel worried that Becca would hate the idea. She called her sister to ask if it was something she’d be comfortable with, and to her surprise, she agreed. Mel realized she had no reason to be worried when Becca called her the next morning, gushing about how Langdon had not only brought her favorite baked spaghetti dish from the restaurant they often frequented, but he’d even sat with her and helped her complete a puzzle that had been taking her ages to complete. When she next saw Langdon, she thanked him profusely. 

"You didn’t have to do all of that, Dr. Langdon, really!" She said. 

Frank just shrugged, giving her a goofy grin. "It’s no problem, really. It was fun hanging out with her, honestly. Although she does run a tight ship when it comes to her puzzles."

She’d asked him if it was okay with Abby that he’d been out late because of his time with Becca, and he brushed it off, claiming he’d called her and let her know. She started noticing that whenever she brought up Abby, he was quick to change the subject. Mel had heard through the grapevine that he and his wife were still together at that point, so she thought nothing of it. 

In October, though, things changed. Langdon came in one shift completely subdued. Mel clocked his shift in demeanor as soon as she saw him, and wondered how to approach him. She spent most of the day avoiding him, because she was almost certain she’d say something that would only worsen his mood. Their shift was nearly over when he finally caught her alone in the break room. 

"Did I do something to upset you, Mel?" He asked weakly. 

"What? No, of course not!" She answered quickly, pushing aside the snack she’d been meaning to eat since noon. 

Frank sighed and ran his hands through his hair in anxious fashion, then moved to sit next to her at the table. "You’ve been avoiding me all day. We haven’t worked a single case together, despite my best efforts," he chuckled weakly. 

"Oh, I— Well, I’m sorry."

An awkward silence filled the room. She wasn’t sure how to move the conversation forward. 

"I noticed you were upset this morning, but I didn’t know how to—"

"Abby’s leaving me," he cut her off. Her eyes widened, and it took everything in her not to reach for him. Frank was touchy, she was not. She opted to fold her hands in her lap. 

"Oh, Dr. Langdon, I’m so sorry."

Frank shrugged. "I figured it was coming. She was a saint to stay as long as she did. I think she felt she needed to stick around until she was certain I wouldn’t go completely off the deep end once she left. I just," he groaned and buried his face in his hands. "I don’t know. We’re telling the kids tonight, but how do you tell toddlers that their parents are splitting up? My parents have been married for forty years. We’ve basically just been living as roommates since I came back from rehab, so it’s not like I’m surprised. I knew it was coming, but it’s still hard. I’m sorry to dump all that on you," he added quickly. "I just thought you were upset with me, and with all of this going on, I don’t know. I was worried I was losing you, too," he finished quietly. 

Mel felt horrible for her friend, and she felt even more horrible realizing her avoidance had only added to the pain he’d been experiencing all day. Deciding to break her typical norm, she placed a hand on his shoulder. He turned to look at her, giving her an appreciative smile. 

"Mel?" Frank calls to her again, pulling her out of her memory. "You zoned out again," he laughs. 

If Mel’s cheeks could burn any brighter, she’d be a prime candidate as an air traffic control tower. 

"Gosh, sorry. I don’t know where my head is at," she offers a weak excuse.

"No kidding. Hey, anyway, what’s your plan? I know you were supposed to pick Becca up, but," he motions toward the ambulance bay where they can see the snow falling in rapid succession. Mel groans. 

"I know. She’s going to be upset, but I don’t see us making the walk home in this." The guilt from earlier rushes back in, and she’s back to feeling like a deadbeat sister. 

"Yeah, no, definitely not. I’m taking up the hospital’s offer to stay here tonight. I brought a change of clothes just to be safe. I was supposed to have the kids tonight. I’ll have to call Abby and let her know."

Mel’s mind is still on the change of clothes. She groans, rubbing her neck. She completely forgot, and the only thing she has in her locker is a PTMC sweatshirt. She supposes sleeping in her scrubs isn’t the worst scenario, but she has a specific preference for her sleepwear attire, and hospital scrubs are not a part of that preference. 

"What’s wrong?" Frank asks, scanning her face with a worried look. 

"I didn’t think to bring extra clothes." This makes Frank laugh. 

"Rookie mistake, Mel! I figured you’d know that after being here so long," he teases. Mel doesn’t recall the winter weather ever getting so bad that she’d have to stay overnight last year, but remembers Frank wouldn’t have been there to know. She offers a weak shrug and turns to the track board, reviewing the patients currently in need of service. 

"Oh well," she sighs. "I’m going to give Becca a call real quick. Be back soon." Frank waves her off, smiling to himself. She wonders what he’s thinking, but opts to head back toward the lockers and dials Becca’s number. 

The phone rings exactly twice before her twin sister’s voice rings out. "Mel! Have you looked outside? It’s snowing!" Hearing Becca brings a sense of calm to Mel. 

"Yeah, I saw! It’s neat."

"Cold, too. We went outside earlier. I got hit with a snowball," Becca grumbles, and makes Mel chuckle. 

"Did you get them back?" Mel asks. 

"No! I didn’t see who hit me. It was rude. Oh well. They’re giving us hot chocolate, and we’re going to watch some Christmas movies soon, though!" Becca’s cheery demeanor is already reset. 

"In January? Let me guess, is it Elf?" Mel asks, trying not to laugh at her own joke. 

"I don’t know. They didn’t tell us what they were putting on. Are we still getting dinner tonight?"

Mel chews on her lip, considering how to best answer her question. Finally, she sighs. "I’m so sorry, Becca, but I don’t think the weather is going to get better any time soon. It’s not going to be safe for us to walk home. I’m going to have to sleep at the hospital tonight," she adds in an over-exaggerated annoyed tone, hoping to garner some sympathy from her sister. 

Becca is quiet for a moment, and Mel can practically hear her pout. "Okay," she says softly. "Maybe after the storm?"

"Absolutely! I’m sorry, Becca, I know I’ve been dropping the ball with our dinner dates. I promise, as soon as I can get out of here, you and I are going to hit the town." Guilty, guilty, guilty. Terrible sister. 

"Promise?"

"I promise," Mel responds. 

"Okay. I think a movie is about to start, and I need to get to my spot before someone takes it. I love you!" Becca seems to be back to normal, but Mel’s heart twists. She doesn’t deserve such a forgiving sister. 

"I love you too, Becca," she says. They hang up, and Mel returns to the Pitt. 

Mel simply follows the motions for the remainder of her shift. Most of the night shift crew arrive earlier than their scheduled times, fearing that the storm would only continue to worsen their paths to work. Mel’s glad they were able to come in. She doesn’t think she can handle doing a double. She’s already exhausted. 

They’ve had at least three separate cases of car crash victims come through, two minor, one major. Of course, with Mel’s luck, she landed the major one alongside Dr. Mohan. The man had internal bleeding in the abdomen, a fractured femur, and severe lacerations on his face, chest, and neck. Mel and Samira moved gracefully as they assessed and treated the patient, and eventually got him stable enough to move him up to surgery. He was likely to make it, but it was going to be a while before his life was normal again. 

Mel opts to move into triage to help out Donnie and Javadi. The adrenaline in her system from the car crash victim keeps her alert and efficient. She doesn’t realize her shift is practically over until Robby pulls her out of triage. 

"Mel, hey, we’ve got good coverage here from night shift now. Go see Dana and get your room situation sorted out. They’re putting us up on the eighth floor. Grab what you need from your locker and get out of here. I better not see you down here for the rest of the night, we need you fresh in the morning." She knows Robby’s doing his best to look after her and the rest of his staff, but she feels the slightest twinge of resentment at his order. She wouldn’t risk the well-being of her patients by sneaking in an extra shift, but not willing to challenge her superior, she simply nods. 

She finds Dana updating Lena on the current cases. Mel notes Lena is still bundled head to toe, and snow clings to her red hair, slowly melting onto her shoulders and the floor. She approaches the two nurses, offering them a small wave. 

"Sorry to interrupt, um, Dana? Robby told me to check with you on the room situation?" She hated bothering the nurses when they were constantly slammed. Dana gave her a quizzical look, then scoffed. 

"Do I look like I’m running a bed and breakfast here? I don’t know what he wants me to do about that. Last I heard they had rooms ready up on eight. Just find a room and hunker down, and we’ll see you in the morning." Mel does her best to refrain from flinching away from the woman. She’s usually softer with Mel, but considering the circumstances, she doesn’t take Dana’s harsh tone personally. Realizing she may have come across terse, Dana adds in a more gentle tone, "Make sure to grab some food from the cafeteria before it closes, okay? No sense in you going hungry, even if the food kind of sucks."

Mel smiles at the charge nurses and heads toward her locker to grab her sweater and water bottle. She figures it’s going to be a long, uncomfortable night. 

She makes her way to the hospital cafeteria. She sees many familiar faces grabbing bagged meals, and none of them look too happy to be there. She notices that Trinity and Dennis have opted to eat their meals in the cafeteria rather than taking them to their makeshift rooms. Mel grabs a bag (praying it’s not something too dreadful, like meatloaf), and heads over to their table. 

"Mind if I join you two?" She asks. 

Trinity looks up from her meal. It’s a PTMC special: cold turkey sandwich, plastic wrapped chocolate chip cookie, and a bag of Lay’s potato chips. Mel’s stomach growls at the sight of food, and, well, beggars can’t be choosers, right? Trinity motions for Mel to sit.

"Oh, yes, please join us for this fine dining experience. Dennis and I were just having a riveting conversation about the quality of hospital accommodations for inclement weather conditions. Care to comment?" She holds out a piece of her sandwich as though it’s a microphone. Mel laughs awkwardly. 

"Um, I don’t know. I guess it could be worse, right? Like, at least we’re getting our own rooms," her argument is weak, but she is grateful to not have to share with a stranger. Sure, her relationships with her colleagues have improved since starting, but aside from Dr. Langdon, she doesn’t really know any of them very well, and would feel incredibly uncomfortable sharing sleeping quarters with them. 

"Hopefully getting our own rooms," Trinity argues, then shoves the sandwich-microphone into her mouth. "I mean," she says with a mouth full of food, "I already live with Huckleberry here, so it’s not too far from my norm, but I’m not keen on sharing a bed with any of you nerds."

Mel doesn’t take the term with offense. She’s learned that Trinity, in her own odd way, is actually quite nice. Rough-edged, sure, but nice nonetheless. They’d actually made a lot of progress over the past few months on building something stronger than a standard work relationship. Trinity will often ask her about Becca, and Mel makes sure to ask about her relationship with Dr. Garcia (the first time she asked, Trinity shot her a glare that she was certain would burn a hole directly through her chest. Later, Trinity apologized, claiming they’d had an argument on “labels” the night before, and she wasn’t taking it well). It isn’t much in comparison to her friendship with Dr. Langdon, and certainly not in comparison with Trinity and Dennis’ friendship, but it’s something — and that is a victory in and of itself to Mel. 

The trio falls into comfortable conversation between bites of food, swapping stories from the day and general complaints from their line of work. Mel rarely ever joins her colleagues for lunch, and it’s even rarer that she finds herself attending their post-work dinner or bar ventures. It’s nice, though, and she thinks that she should probably start making a better effort to be more proactive in improving her relationships with them. 

Once they’re all finished, they make their way toward their temporary homes. 

"I’m so glad I brought my Switch," Dennis says as they trek up the stairs. The line for the elevator was annoyingly long, according to Trinity, and Mel couldn’t complain. She didn’t mind the exercise, anyway. 

"I’m also glad you brought your Switch, because I’m already bored. I’m going to kick your ass at Mario Kart, just watch!" Trinity is practically skipping up the stairs. Mel curses herself for being seemingly the only one to not anticipate being stuck at the hospital. She’s beginning to come to terms with the fact that she’s about to spend the better part of her evening staring mindlessly out her window (if she can even snag a room with a window).  

They all part ways when they reach the eighth floor, fending for themselves to find an empty room in the chaos of all the other day shift crew members. Mel bumps into a group of men that are gathered outside of an empty room, bickering amongst themselves as to who should get the bed. It’s Jesse, Mateo, and Donnie, and they’re past the point of exhaustion. 

"There aren’t going to be enough rooms for all of us, I say we rock-paper-scissors for it," Mateo suggests. 

"Hell no! I always lose. I’m a new dad, I haven’t slept decent in ages, I think it’s only fair. You two can cuddle on the cot," Donnie argues. 

Jesse glares at his colleagues. "You’re the one who decided to have a baby. I’ve been here longer than both of you. You can cuddle with Mateo." He shoves past the two men, who seem shocked by Jesse’s bluntness, and plops himself onto the bed. 

Mel stifles a laugh, and continues her hunt for a room. She’s worried, though, after hearing Mateo say there weren’t enough rooms prepared for all of the people staying. She really isn’t looking forward to sharing with anyone. She begins to pick at her lip as she walks past claimed rooms on both sides of the hall. She makes a turn onto an unlit hallway, which nobody else has seemed to venture into just yet. She goes further down, hoping to be lucky enough to find an empty room far away from the clamor of the madness she’s just escaped. 

Finally, she settles on a room at the farthest end of the dark hallway that is completely empty. She realizes the hospital administration must not have been anticipating so many people to stay, as they haven’t even cleared this room out. There are boxes of random medical supplies and papers stacked around the room, and the bed is missing sheets and blankets, but it’ll do. Nothing but the best for the PTMC crew, right? At the very least, it does have a window. She looks out, noting the mostly barren streets that are filling with snow and ice by the second. Maybe night shift won’t have too many patients to deal with tonight, she thinks optimistically. 

Mel sighs and places the complimentary toiletry bag that they’d given out in the cafeteria on the bare bed, organizing the contents in the small bathroom attached to the room. She’s deciding on the best plan of action for attempting to make her night as tolerable as possible. It’s starting to feel like a futile attempt when she hears a gentle knock on her open door. She jumps at the sound, and chastises herself internally for not closing the door. 

"Mel?" It’s Frank. She pops her head out of the bathroom, greeting him with a sheepish smile. 

"Hey! You startled me," she admits. 

"Apologies," he raises his hands up. "I thought I saw you sneak back this way. Smart," he adds. "It’s a disaster back there. I don’t think anyone else realized there were more rooms back here. I’m sure some will, but it’s insane. Donnie and Mateo are already sharing a cot. I almost want to drag one of them back here, but," he trails off.

"It’s peaceful back here," Mel adds, and he laughs.

"Yes, it is." Frank leans awkwardly against the door frame. Mel can tell he’s doing his best not to completely invade her limited space. She blushes as the thought crosses her mind that they are essentially alone, and he’s almost in her room, and she really wishes the harsh lights weren’t making it so obvious that she’s blushing.

"Did you find a room yet?" She asks awkwardly, trying to look anywhere but at the man standing in front of her. She decides the boxes of supplies and paperwork are incredibly interesting, actually. 

"Yeah, it’s a couple doors down. Kind of creepy, though. I don’t think admin thought this many people would opt to stay. My room has one of those old-school mannequins in it," he grimaces. This makes Mel laugh. The situation is incredibly strange for everyone, it seems. 

"I guess I won’t take my dusty boxes for granted. Those mannequins are creepy."

Frank’s eyes widen as he snorts. "Right? They are!"

Mel feels the heat leave her cheeks, and she finally feels confident enough to look at Frank without feeling awkward. She tries to remind herself that they spend nearly every working day together, and she never struggles to keep her feelings in check like she is right now. She notices that he’s holding a gift shop bag, and gives him an odd look. "You went shopping?"

His eyes follow hers, and he grins. "Oh, yeah, you told me you didn’t really bring anything for the night, and I," he pauses. "Well, here," he offers the bag over to her.

"Oh, what? No, you didn’t need to do that, Frank! I’m fine, really," she tries to push the bag back toward him, but he persists.

"It’s seriously nothing. They didn’t have anything all that great anyway. Just figured you might be more comfortable with this stuff is all." He’s staring at her expectantly, and she doesn’t want to hurt his feelings. She begrudgingly takes the bag and begins to pull the contents out, laying each item neatly on the bed: a large PTMC - ER staff t-shirt, chenille socks, a bag of pretzels, a large bottle of water, and a paperback copy of Sally Rooney’s Normal People. Mel’s blush returns in full force. 

"Oh," she mutters softly. "Thank you, Frank," she turns to look at him, holding the book against her chest. She notices his face is flush, too, but attributes it to the cold room. 

"Of course, it’s the least I could do. Um," he fidgets with his empty hands. "They didn’t have, like, pants or anything, but I found an extra pair of sweats in my locker if you want them. They’re clean, I promise," he adds quickly. "I just don’t imagine you find scrubs to be comfortable sleepwear, I mean, just basing off of what you’ve told me before and," he trails off and rubs his neck awkwardly. "Well, if you want them, I can grab them for you."

She smiles at the man standing before her, and without really thinking of the consequences of the action she’s about to take, she places the book down and steps toward him, wrapping her arms around his torso. He’s warm and firm, and she feels him tense from the sensation of her touch. She’s about to pull away out of sheer embarrassment, but stops as he returns the gesture, pulling her impossibly close. He’s warm and firm, and the antiseptic smell of his scrubs fill her nostrils. Her head rests perfectly under his chin, and she screws her eyes shut tight, doing everything she can to make sure the moment is burned into her brain. Her general lack of interest in physical contact with others melts away completely in Frank’s arms. She feels his hands flex slightly against her back, and in this moment, she feels like she could merge directly into the man in her arms. 

Mel isn’t certain how long the embrace lasts, but she finally pulls away, deciding to embrace her blush in full. Frank’s face is probably just as red as hers, she figures. She has to stop herself from frowning at the lack of his warmth against her. 

"Let me grab those sweats real quick," he says in an anxious, rushed tone. "And, um, some blankets. I’m sure I can find some spares, somewhere. Can’t have you freeze overnight," he jokes. Before she can muster up a response, he turns quickly on his heels and heads toward his room. 

Mel stands in place, and begins to worry she may have gone too far. Moved too fast. She’s never even voiced her feelings for Frank out loud to herself, keeping them tucked deep inside her heart in fear of ruining her only good friendship here at the Pitt. Shit, she thinks. 

She turns back to the display of gifts on her bed. She’d mentioned before, in passing, that she preferred oversized sleepwear, not liking the feeling of being constricted in her sleep. That had to have been months ago, though. The book was one she’d seen a patient reading one day and expressed a mild interest in, but had never bothered to actually read it. How had he remembered those things? 

Feeling awkward and useless just standing in place, she works to move some of the lighter boxes crowding her room off of a chair typically used for guests staying overnight and sits down. She’s usually not uncomfortable sitting in silence, but now, her mind is racing. It’s been plenty of time for Frank to find the items he set off for, yet every minute that passes makes her feel worse. She pulls her phone out to distract her. There’s a notification from Becca, and she opens it to see a picture of her sister sitting front and center for their Christmas movie. She captioned it: Asked for Elf. It’s not Elf. Having hot chocolate. Good night! Mel smiles and shoots an I love you! text back. Mel puts her phone away, nerves getting worse by the second. She’s gearing herself up to go find Frank and apologize, but a knock on her door rings out once more, and there he is. 

Frank’s arms are filled with blankets, sheets, pillows, and a pair of navy blue sweat pants folded on the top of the pile. Mel can barely see the top of his head. 

"Apologies for the delay, I had to trade and barter for a couple of these, but I think it should do for the night, don’t you think?" He shuffles into her room, the pile wobbling haphazardly in his arms. Mel stands and grabs the top portion of his wares, revealing Frank’s face with a giant smile plastered on it. 

"Trade and barter?" She asks as she begins separating blankets and sheets. "I would’ve survived with just a blanket, Frank!"

The pair begin making the bed, moving in a calculated dance not unlike the one they often find themselves performing in the Pitt, albeit this is a much less critical play-field. Once they finish, Frank plops himself onto her chair. 

"Trust me, these beds are not comfortable. You’ll be grateful for the extra cushion tonight, I guarantee it." He pulls his phone out of his scrub pants and scrolls through it, not looking at her. 

Mel frowns. "How do you know they’re not comfortable?"

He shrugs and doesn’t look up. "Just an assumption based on patient feedback. Plus, have you ever heard anyone say our beds are comfortable? Anyway," he stands, stretching his arms out and above his head. Mel forces herself to look away when she notices his scrub top rise and expose a sliver of his stomach. She completely ignores the hair trailing toward his waistband.

"I’m going to get cleaned up. Have you eaten yet?" He asks. Mel nods, not trusting her brain or her mouth at the moment to formulate a coherent sentence. He smiles. "Good. If you need anything, I’m just down the hall." Frank leaves the room before she can muster out a response, closing the door behind him. 

Despite the frigid air in the room, Mel feels like she’s burning up. She sighs and shakes her head in a feeble attempt to push back the completely inappropriate thoughts she’s having about her friend, her coworker. No, she’s a professional. She’s not thinking about their hug from earlier, and she certainly isn’t thinking about his stomach or any other part of Frank Langdon. 

Mel grabs the PTMC t-shirt and Frank’s sweatpants, locks herself in the bathroom, undresses quickly, and turns the old shower to the hottest temperature she can stand. "Pull yourself together, King," she chastises herself as the hot water races over her skin, burning just enough to distract her from her thoughts. The complimentary soap provided by the hospital is, well, less than ideal, but it gets the job done. 

She steps out of the shower and stares at the clothes neatly folded on the sink. A part of her wants to reject them in the same fashion that she’s been trying to reject her feelings for a certain Dr. Langdon. The clothes are a direct opposition to everything she’s tried to do over these past few months to bury those feelings. She could simply put on her scrubs, how would he even know? They’d clock in tomorrow morning, and he would be none the wiser. 

Her wet hair drips onto the cold floor. Mel bites her lip, drawing blood this time. She winces, then looks at herself in the mirror. Her lip is swollen already, a bright bead of blood slowly pushing out from the broken skin. She quickly swipes it away with her thumb. Apparently, her entire body is at war right now. Mel huffs, finishes drying off, then gives in. Screw it, she thinks to herself. If he wouldn’t know if she wore her scrubs all night, how would he know if he wore the clothes he’d given to her? She puts on the shirt, admiring the surprisingly soft fabric and loose fit on her frame. There, that’s not so bad. The pants are what’s bothering her the most, though. They’re practically taunting her. She thinks of wearing her scrub bottoms to bed, but the thought simply grosses her out. Finally, the war is lost, and she slips into Frank Langdon’s sweatpants. 

The cotton against her legs feels wonderful, and the fit is perfect on her waist. She doesn’t feel squeezed in, and more importantly, she doesn’t feel like she’s going to be sleeping with all of her work germs swimming around her. She examines her new outfit in the steamy mirror. Her face is obscured by the condensation, giving her a warped self-view. Wet hair drapes over her shoulders, leaving damp marks on the shirt. The feeling isn’t great, but she simply stands and stares, imagining an impossible future in which she’s standing in his bathroom after cleaning herself with his soaps and wearing his clothes. 

It’s dangerous, thinking like this at work. She’s always careful to keep thoughts like these tucked away, locked behind the expansive library in her mind filled with medical procedures, techniques, lectures —  anything that has nothing to do with him. Only when she’s at home, alone, does she allow herself a moment to dream. It’s the only time she’s not completely racked with guilt about it. Logically, she understands that not only has he had to recover from his addiction, he’s gone through extreme social isolation, a failed marriage, and a near career-ending experience. It’s unfair of her to ever expect anything more than the friendship they already have, and it’s unfair of her to even consider risking that for feelings she’s certain would not be reciprocated.

Mel moves on. She swipes away the condensation, grounding herself back to reality. She towel dries her hair to the best of her ability with the cheap, scratchy rags admin provided for them, and opts to leave it loose in the hopes of it drying quicker before bed. She wonders how the night shift crew are faring, and part of her wants to sneak down and check in, but she remembers Robby’s orders from earlier, and wonders briefly if he’s instructed people to watch the elevator and stairwell entrances for any daredevils hoping to sneak down and pick up an extra shift. The only person she can imagine doing that is Trinity, or perhaps Samira, if Dr. Abbott is here. 

For the next hour, Mel sits on the patient guest chair and dives into the book Frank bought for her. She loses herself in the text, and chides herself for not getting it for herself sooner. She’s just shy of a third of the way through the book when she hears a soft knock at her door. It reminds her of her younger years at sleep-away camps where the barely-adult counselors would check in on the campers and make sure they weren’t running around after the final lights-out call. Mel dogears the page she’s on (a habit that drives Becca crazy) and sets it on the chair. 

She opens the door to find Frank standing there, a book in one hand, and his water bottle in the other. He’s wearing a faded Penguins t-shirt and sweatpants nearly identical to the ones she’s wearing, except his are black, and fit much nicer on him than her. His eyes scan her frame, and he smiles. "Nice outfit."

She suddenly feels self conscious. Her hair is still drying, and her shirt is still damp. She wants to shut the door in his face and hide under the bed for the remainder of the night, but instead gives him a sheepish smile. "Oh, thanks. I do appreciate it. I would’ve hated sleeping in my scrubs," she motions for him to come in, and without thinking about it may be perceived, she closes the door behind him. He makes no mention of it, and moves to the chair, picking her book up. 

"Don’t mention it. I would’ve hated it too. Unfortunately, snow-ins just come with the territory, and I am an avid weather channel viewer." He plops into the chair, tossing her book onto the bed. He nods toward it. "You like it so far?"

"I do! I can pay you back for all the stuff you got, by the way, I—" Mel is about to offer the various ways she can send over what she owes, but Frank swats his hand around as though he’s chasing a fly. 

"What? No, I bought them for you. You didn’t ask for any of it. Think of it as a late Christmas present."

"You got me a Christmas present, though?"

He’d gotten her one of those instant print cameras, citing all the photos she had hanging around her apartment he’d seen one evening when they were Facetiming after a particularly rough shift. She tried to argue with him then, too, about paying him back for it, but he shot her offer down swiftly. She wasn’t sure if she or Becca enjoyed it more, but it was certainly used on every outing the twins took together. 

Frank shrugs. "Early birthday present, then. Seriously Mel, don’t worry about it. Staff discount and everything, basically cost me nothing."

Mel sighs. She knows she isn’t going to win this argument, so she cedes to him. She sits on the edge of the bed, tracing an incoherent pattern on the cover of her book. Looking at Frank, he seems incredibly relaxed despite their less than ideal sleeping situations. His hair is also slightly damp, and she doesn’t allow herself to even consider the idea of him showering. She instead focuses on the reality of their relationship, and notes the book he’s currently thumbing through. 

"What do you have?" She asks, hoping a normal conversation will steady her nerves.

He holds up a worn copy of Pride and Prejudice. "I had to read this bad boy in high school and absolutely hated it. Had to read it in undergrad, and still hated it. I reread it every year or so to see if my opinion changes, but so far," he tosses the book onto one of the boxes next to the chair, "I still hate it." Mel laughs, because it makes total sense for Frank to continuously subject himself to something he detests. 

"I wonder if you subconsciously really love the book. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who’s read it that many times."

Frank scratches his chin, as though this is something he’s never considered. "You know, you may be onto something here, Dr. King. I’ll have to bring this up in my next therapy session. I’m sure he’d love to hear even more about my unusual psyche."

The pair settle into a comfortable silence. Mel decides to continue reading her book, and Frank opts to scroll through videos on his phone at a low volume. It’s nice, she thinks. Domestic. She shakes that thought out of her mind.

She’s getting into a good flow with the book when her phone buzzes next to her. It’s another text update from Becca, saying she enjoyed the film and is looking forward to seeing how much snow the city gets overnight. Mel shoots back a quick response, and looks up to catch Frank staring at her. His cheeks instantly go red, and hers do too in response. 

"That Becca?" He asks. 

"Oh, yeah, just that she’s excited to see the snow tomorrow. I feel bad not being with her," she looks out the window, and sure enough, the snow is still falling heavy. 

"Yeah, but if you’d gone out to get her, I imagine there’d be a couple of King Sister Popsicles out there in that frozen tundra by now, and I don’t have the required gear to go out on a search and rescue mission," Frank responds. He reaches for the bag of pretzels on Mel’s bed, giving her a look that’s reminiscent of a puppy begging for scraps at the dinner table. "Mind if I snag a few? That sandwich did nothing for me."

Mel’s so stuck on the concept of Frank rescuing her and Becca in this fake scenario, she doesn’t even really consider his question and just nods. 

"Thanks," he says as he pops the bag open, snatching a handful of pretzels and shoving them into his mouth. She’s noticed before that he’s somewhat of a chaotic eater, and if it were anyone else dropping pretzel crumbs in her room, she’d probably ask them to leave. But this is Frank, and for reasons she’s not willing to explore any further at the moment, she doesn’t quite mind it. She grabs a handful of hers to snack on, but is much more mindful of the falling crumbs.

The silence returns, interrupted infrequently by the soft crunch from Frank and Mel as they dive back into their books (Frank finds inspiration from Mel’s earlier words, and has decided to — once again — restart the novel with a "positive" approach). 

Mel isn’t sure how much time has passed, but eventually looks up to find that it is pitch black outside. She checks her phone, and sure enough, it’s well past ten o’clock, and she should definitely already be asleep by now. Looking over at Frank, she realizes he’s already beaten her to it. He’s slumped awkwardly in the chair, his legs stretched out, arms crossed protectively over his stomach, and head leaning in her direction. It takes everything inside of her to not reach over and brush back the hair that’s fallen over his forehead. Instead, she opts to remain professional, and gently rises from the bed. For a moment she’s not sure what the best approach to waking the man up would be. She doesn’t want to startle him, but his position certainly can’t be comfortable. 

She lands on placing a hand on his shoulder, shaking it lightly. "Frank?" She asks softly. His nose scrunches up, and he leans further into her touch, still deep in sleep. Mel glances around the room awkwardly, as though she’s afraid someone is bound to walk in any second. She gives him another shake, firmer than the last. "Frank?" She's a little louder than before. This seems to bring him out of his slumber. His eyes open slowly, but he does not move from his current position. Finally, his eyes lock on Mel, then her hand on his shoulder. 

"I fell asleep," he says, blinking slowly as they adjust to the harsh lighting of the room. 

"You did," she responds. 

He hums, then slowly straightens his body out, stretching wide. His arm brushes Mel’s side, and she does her best not to flinch away from his touch (or worse, lean into it). Mel remains frozen in place, allowing her colleague to wake himself. 

"Sorry about that," Frank apologizes as he stands in front of her, not seeming to realize just how close they are to one another. Her face is practically centimeters away from his chest. She clenches a fist, digging her nails into her palm to keep her calm. He’s tired, she’s tired, this is nothing more than a miscalculation of distance and propriety. 

"It’s no problem. I lost track of the time, I don’t even know how long you were out for."  She has nowhere else to look but up at him, and the way he’s looking at her is doing things to her insides that make her want to melt directly into the floor all the way down to the Pitt. The only direction she could potentially move is back onto the bed, and the optics of that would be far worse than they are now. 

"No worries,” he says softly, voice slightly husky from the sleep. He seems to be in no hurry to move. 

"It’s late," she says flatly, unsure of what to do in this situation. 

"I assumed," he responds. He reaches up and touches a loose strand of hair resting on her shoulder. "You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen your hair down like this before." Every atom inside of Mel is bouncing around furiously. What is he doing? 

"It’s, um, too long to leave down. Not ideal for our line of work," her words fumble out rushed and uncertain. She’s cursing herself for not being able to keep her cool, calm disposition. 

Frank hums and lets the hair fall from his hand back onto her shoulder. "I like it."

At this point, Mel is ready to simply let Frank have her room and escape to sleep in the stairwell. This is torture. Or, maybe it’s some strange dream she’s having. 

"Mel?" Frank asks after she remains silent. 

"Yes, Frank?" Her eyes scan his face, a futile attempt to read the complex man’s mind. 

What he does next does not require the skills of a mind reader. 

In one swift motion, his hand that was previously at her side is now cupping her cheek, and he brings his lips to hers. 

This is not a dream. This is real. This is happening. 

At first, Mel is completely frozen. She barely registers the feeling of the kiss. Her eyes are wide, hands limp at her sides.

Frank pulls away quickly, shame lacing his face. "Dammit, I’m—"

Something inside Mel ignites. Maybe it's the look on his face. Maybe it's the fear that she won't get this opportunity ever again, and she doesn't want the only kiss for them to ever share be overshadowed by her lack of a response.

She reaches for his shirt, pulls him back, and crashes her lips against his in a frenzy. His eyes widen for a split second, then close, and he wraps his arms around her middle. Their lips meld together, and she’s filing each sensation away in case she never gets the opportunity to do this again. The way his soft lips part against hers, the soothing sensation of his hands running up and down her back, the way his body presses into hers perfectly. 

His tongue swipes against her lip, a request to go further, explore deeper. Her lips part in welcome, and the kiss intensifies into near-desperation. His hands move from her backside up to her neck, fingers tangling themselves into her hair, pulling so gently she may not have noticed it if she weren’t so hyper-aware of what they were doing. She moans at the contact, and Frank takes the opportunity to dominate her mouth with his. Tongues and teeth clash against one another, heavy breaths and soft moans fill the room. Her hands find themselves on their own exploratory mission. They slide up his chest, snaking their way up to cup his face, then into his hair, giving him a gentle tug of her own, earning a moan in response. Her entire body is buzzing.

Mel’s mind is completely void of any rational thought at this point. She can’t be bothered to care that they’re coworkers. She can’t be bothered to care that they’re sharing their first kiss in a dusty, outdated hospital room. She can’t be bothered to care that the majority of their coworkers are right around the corner. She doesn’t care. The only thing that matters to her in this moment is how right it all feels. 

Eventually, the pair surface for a breath of fresh air. Their chests are both heaving, hands still wrapped around one another possessively. Mel’s eyes are still screwed shut. She’s too scared to open them for the fear that it isn’t real, or that Frank will pull away filled with regret, or shame, or disgust. 

Finally, Frank breaks the silence. "Mel?" He whispers softly. She remains in place and refuses to look at him.

"Look at me, Mel," he pleads. His voice is laced with worry, and it’s the only reason she finally looks at him. 

His hair is wild, lips swollen, and cheeks flaming red. His eyes are locked on hers, searching for answers to questions they’re too scared to voice. 

"I didn’t imagine our first kiss happening under these specific circumstances," he says nervously, "but I can’t say I’m not glad for them."

Mel’s brain is short-circuiting. She doesn’t respond, so he continues. 

"I hope— Like, seriously, really hope this isn’t — I mean, fuck, Mel," he pulls back from their entanglement.

"Frank, it’s just me," Mel says in a calm tone, despite feeling anything but calm at the present moment. 

He reaches for her, but stops himself. "I’m trying, and failing miserably I might add, to tell you that I really care for you."

"Oh."

"Can I start over?" He asks, reaching for her hand. "I really value our friendship. You’ve helped me through so much, and you’re so smart, and talented, and I guess I’ve been… Afraid. Afraid to push for more than I deserve. Because, to be very honest with you Mel, I don’t think anyone deserves you, especially not me."

Mel scoffs at this, but does not drop his hand. "I don’t think you get to determine that for me. I can decide who does and doesn’t ‘deserve’ me, Frank. To be honest, I didn’t think, well—" She waves her free hand between them, "this was even remotely on your radar. I’ve been content for a while now just being friends, but…" Mel trails off, afraid to put everything out there. It’s something she can’t come back from, and despite being almost certain Frank shares her feelings, she’s scared of the possibility that he may still reject anything beyond whatever this night has been for them. That is not something she thinks she can handle. 

"But?" Frank asks, a hopeful look in his eyes.

"But," Mel continues slowly, "I am willing to explore whatever this is. If you are, of course," she adds quickly. 

Frank smiles, then pulls her back into his arms. "I am more than willing to explore whatever this is and more, Mel." He kisses her again, and this time it’s much slower, more gentle. Mel’s heart is still racing, but she doesn’t feel like the moment is going to slip through her fingers if she pulls away. She feels whole. 

They stay up far too late kissing, talking, and kissing some more. Finally, Frank pulls away from her as they lay together on the too-small hospital bed and offers her one final kiss. 

"I should probably head back to my room. Not that I’m not entirely opposed to the idea of spending the night with you, I just don’t think Robby or Gloria would be too happy if they caught us together in these specific circumstances."

Mel agrees, and they wish each other a goodnight before Frank departs for his room, flipping the lights off for her as he goes. 

Once he’s gone, Mel throws herself back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling as city street lights bounce off the bright snow and in through the window. Despite missing the comfort of her own home and bed, she’s secretly grateful for the inclement weather conditions that have given her this night. 

It takes another two days before the roads are safe enough for day shift to actually go home. Each night, Frank and Mel fall into a similar routine as the first, albeit they find themselves talking less each time. Still, he would retreat to his room at some point, and they would spend their nights apart. Mel wasn’t sure who out of the pair was more excited to be able to spend real time with one another outside the increasingly stuffy enclosure of the eighth floor of the PTMC.

Becca is more than thrilled when Mel tells her she's clear to leave, and demands they go out for dinner that very night. Mel agrees, and does her best to wrap up her final charts for the day before heading out. She meets Frank at the lockers, and he offers her an innocent ride to pick up her sister. 

"There’s still ice and sludge out there, you know," he argues as she tries to object. "What type of friend would I be if I let you two trek through that mess?" 

Mel’s about to give in and accept when Trinity and Dennis walk past. "Jesus," Trinity says in passing. "Would you two just get a room already? Your pathetic attempts at flirting are making me feel even more disgusting than I already do after staying here so long." She walks out with Dennis, who offers them a small, apologetic smile and shrug. 

Mel and Frank stare after their colleagues for a moment, then burst out in laughter. 

"I guess I’m not being as subtle as I thought," Frank says, offering his arm to Mel as they head toward the exit. 

"No," Mel agrees with a smile, lacing her arm around his and leaning ever so slightly into his side as they step out into the frigid Pittsburgh winter weather. "I’d say not."