Chapter Text
Frank's older sister, Shane, comes to visit a month before her engagement party, blowing into town in that whirlwind way of hers.
After a particularly brutal night shift and the consolatory diner breakfast that followed, Frank gazes out the passenger window of Mel's car as she drives toward his house. Out of nowhere, he swears he feels the city get a little brighter, a little livelier. Then, sure enough, the reason for it comes into view — when Mel swings into his driveway fifteen minutes later, her headlights sweeping across the front of his house, Shane is sitting on his rocking bench. She's looking chic as ever with her weekender bag next to her and a pair of sunglasses perched atop her head, despite the fact that it's forty degrees and gloomy.
“Oh, shit,” Frank says upon seeing her.
Mel startles, the car lurching a little with her surprise. She winces before easing it to a stop in the driveway.
“What?” Her gaze lands on Shane, then turns back to him. “Who’s that?”
“My older sister. Also, a huge pain in my ass,” he mutters, barely catching the furrow of Mel’s brow before he hops out of the car.
“Hi, Frankie!” Shane says excitedly as he makes his way up the front steps, jumping to her feet and pulling him into a hug.
He rolls his eyes even as he falls into her embrace, his own arms coming up to wrap around her shoulders and squeezing tight. She smells like lilies and the faintest hint of coffee, the way she has for as long as he can remember. It inexplicably settles something in his bones, even as he pretends to be annoyed by the nickname.
“Hello, Shannon,” he responds, grinning at her scowl as they pull apart. She hated the name, complaining it was fit for an eighty-year old grandmother with a purse full of caramels, and had gone by Shane as soon as she was old enough to decide on it. Shannon, Francis, and their baby sister Joanne (who now went by Jojo) — their parents had doomed them from the start. “What are you doing here?”
“Can’t a girl come visit her favorite brother just because she misses him?”
Frank gives her a blank look. “I’m your only brother.”
“The two aren’t mutually exclusive, Frankie.” She sighs when his expression doesn't budge. “Last minute work trip. But I figured I could get in some special bonding time while I’m here. Y’know, two birds, one stone.”
“What if I had work?” He actually has this weekend off, courtesy of working four doubles over the last two weeks. And since he was originally supposed to be working, Abby had already taken the kids to visit her parents over in Princeton, so he'd been looking forward to doing nothing but lounging in his sweatpants and ordering takeout all weekend.
“I’d find other ways to entertain myself, obviously. Do you, though?”
Frank considers lying to her, but he has a sneaking suspicion she's (correctly) assumed he’ll let her stay with him, which means he’ll be caught out immediately. “No,” he admits, “not for the whole weekend.”
Shane brightens at that, clapping her hands together. “See? Everything works out as it should.” Her attention shifts to over his shoulder, and he follows her gaze to the driveway, where Mel is still parked, watching them curiously. “And who is that cute blondie you just came home with?”
It's incredible, really, how much Frank is already looking forward to Shane going back to Cleveland in two days.
Shane turns toward Mel’s car and waves happily. After a second of hesitation, Mel raises a hand to wave back, smiling tentatively, and Frank feels a burst of affection flare behind his chest.
"That's Mel," he says. "We work together. And we're friends. Just friends," he tacks on at the end, because he knows Shane is itching for him to get back on the horse, as she put it, over six months post-divorce. Abby just started dating someone last month, too, an accountant named Ben, but he definitely isn't going to tell her that.
"Well, don't be rude, Frankie, tell her to come over here. I wanna meet her!"
Frank lets out a long breath, then raises a hand, beckoning for Mel to get out of her car. As she makes her way towards them, he leans over and hisses, "Be nice," to Shane, prompting her to whisper back, "I'm always nice." He looks at her skeptically, twisting away when she elbows his side in response.
Sure enough, Shane is all sunshine and smiles, greeting Mel like she's an old friend. After he unlocks the front door, Shane ushers Mel into his apartment like it's hers, leaving him to drag her luggage in from the porch.
After the divorce was finalized, about a month after his return to PTMC, Shane had been the one to help him move into his new place, appointing herself as his interior designer. ("You have zero taste, Frankie. You need my help," she'd said, followed by a pointed look at his Cotopaxi.) As such, she knows where everything is, moving around like she owns the place. Frank watches her guide Mel into the kitchen, gesturing for her to take a seat at the kitchen island before she puts on a pot of coffee.
"How do you like your coffee?" Shane asks over her shoulder, and Frank cuts in before Mel can answer.
"Mel doesn't drink coffee," he says. "Her tea's in the cupboard to your right."
Mel shoots him an exasperated look, and he shoots her one right back. He knows she would've drank it anyway out of politeness — he'd poured them both burnt, stale break room coffee during every shared shift for nearly a month before she'd finally told him she preferred tea. (He had confessed that he and Abby were finalizing their divorce that week and she'd given him that confession in turn. An eye for an eye, she'd said, which made him laugh. An arm for an eye probably would have been more accurate.)
Shane peers at him suspiciously but doesn't say anything, grabbing a tea bag and filling up the kettle with water.
While they wait, Shane leans against the island sink, while Frank perches on a bar stool next to Mel instead, close enough for his knee to press against hers. Mel can handle herself, he knows, but he still wants to be close in case it gets too much. Anyone from his family is a lot, his sisters especially. They are, after all, cut from the same cloth.
Shane launches her interrogation smoothly, asking Mel about her family, her medical school experience, and her hobbies. She doesn't bat an eye when Mel mentions that it's just her and Becca, which Frank is grateful for, and she bonds with Mel over their shared guilty pleasure of reality dating shows (specifically, Love is Blind — Mel can't get behind any of the other ones, much to Becca's disappointment).
When the coffee's brewed and the kettle's whistling, Frank lets them continue chatting as he gets up from his stool, preparing their coffees and Mel's tea to taste. He slides Mel's mug in front of her, and the grateful smile she gives him makes him feel like he's just won a million bucks, the way it always does. (Her smiles aren't rare, he really just feels that way every single time.)
They chat around the island for almost an hour before Mel has to get going, since she wants to get some sleep before having an early dinner with Becca and heading in for another night shift.
When she stands to leave, Frank does too.
"It was so nice to meet you, Shane," Mel says, smiling.
"You, too, Mel. I hope we can see each other again soon." Frank follows Mel to the door, but they barely make it three steps before Shane gasps, stopping them in their tracks. "Mel, you have to come to my engagement party next month. It's going to be at our parents' house in Cleveland, and I know my fiancée would love to meet you too."
"Oh, um, that's really nice of you, thank you." Mel clasps her hands together and looks up at Frank briefly before turning back to Shane. "I would have to check my schedule, and see about Becca, but if you're sure it wouldn't be weird—"
"You—" Frank starts, before getting cut off by Shane.
"I'm totally sure! I'll have Frank tell you the details and he can let me know if you can make it or not. No pressure at all, okay?"
That makes Mel's shoulders relax a bit. "Okay, sure," she says, smiling now. "Thank you, again, for the invite."
"Of course!" Shane is positively beaming, and Frank gives her a dirty look as he and Mel continue their walk to the front door. It'd taken her months to warm up to Abby when they'd first started dating, and here she was inviting Mel to her engagement party after knowing her for less than two hours. (Same cloth, Frank thinks wryly.)
Frank walks her all the way to her car, watching while she gets in and buckles her seatbelt. Before she can pull away, though, he steps forward and taps on her window.
Mel's brow furrows as she rolls it down.
"You don't have to come if you don't want to," he says quickly, resting an arm against the door. "It's like a two hour drive, and my family can be a lot."
"Shane was great," Mel says, "and I'm sure the rest of your family is, too. If they're anything like you then they have to be." Frank's mouth drops open a bit at that, and he can feel the back of his neck growing hot. He barely has time to react, though, because uncertainty starts to appear on Mel's face. "Unless you don't want me to come?"
"No!" he protests immediately, a little louder than he intended, which makes Mel's eyes go wide. "I mean, no, it's not that. Of course I'd love for you to come. I always enjoy your company, you know that."
Mel's eyes soften at that. "I like spending time with you, too." Now the tips of his ears are going hot, God help him. She nods once, like a decision's been made. "Tell Shane to put me down as a tentative yes, okay?"
Frank nods, then pulls his arm away from the car. He taps on her side mirror twice in goodbye before stepping back, letting her start reversing out of his driveway. He stands there watching as she drives away from his house, waiting until she disappears around the corner before heading back inside.
***
In retrospect, maybe Frank should’ve found it weird that it didn’t feel weird at all.
Shane had told their parents all about Mel following her visit, of course, and they'd been eager to meet her ever since. They'd welcomed her with open arms immediately, gushing about how happy they were that she'd been able to make it and how beautiful she looked.
And she does. Look beautiful, that is. Her hair is loosely curled, draped over one shoulder, and she's wearing a blue sundress that falls to her ankles, with thin straps that leave her shoulders bare. (Freckles. So many freckles, Frank had thought helplessly when she'd first climbed into his car that morning.)
Frank is sitting at one of the folding tables, watching Mel from across the yard as she chats with Shane and her fiancée Valerie, who had also loved Mel instantly upon meeting her. It was apparently just a given that the Langdon family, blood-related or not, adored Mel King.
He's jolted from his staring by Jojo dropping into the seat next to him, knocking their bony elbows together and making him hiss.
"Jesus Christ, watch it," he snipes, without any real heat, as he rubs at his arm.
"You'll be fine," Jojo says dismissively, making him roll his eyes. The way both of his sisters treat him, honestly. "So, Mel seems great."
"Yeah, she is," Frank agrees suspiciously, waiting for the punch line.
"What's she doing hanging out with you, then?"
He sighs defeatedly. "You could be nicer to me, you know. Considering I was the one who was forced to drive you and your annoying friends to the mall every weekend before you got your license."
Jojo scoffs. "Oh, please, you loved hearing all the drama and gossip." (Maybe, but he would never admit it. It had deeply amused him, at seventeen years old, to hear twelve year-old Jojo and her gaggle of friends talking about lip gloss flavors and boys with the cutest butts one second, then about their upcoming science test and what they thought high school would be like the next.)
She reaches over and steals a grape from his plate. Wordlessly, he pushes the plate closer to her, his eyes roaming the party before they inevitably land on Mel again like a magnet finding true north.
He's secretly pleased to find that she's already looking his way. You good? he mouths, raising an eyebrow, and smiles when she nods, no hint of hesitation or a need to escape anywhere on her face. He relaxes considerably, still watching fondly as she's drawn back into the conversation with Shane, Valerie, and, newly, his mother.
The sound of retching comes from his right and he startles, head whipping to Jojo in alarm. "What the fuck?"
"You're so infatuated with her it makes me sick."
"I—what?" he splutters out. "I'm not infatuated, Jesus, where did you even get that idea from?"
"From you, dumbass." Jojo rolls her eyes. "You haven't gone more than five minutes without looking at her, you made sure Shane got the brand of sparkling water she likes, and you quite literally had heart eyes just now when you were doing that weird silent communication thing."
She pops a couple of cheese cubes into her mouth then keeps talking, unfortunately giving him a clear view of the bright orange glob within. Menace, Frank thinks, in more ways than one. Then, taking him by surprise, Jojo says, "Plus, there's the fact that almost our entire family thinks you're dating."
"What?" he says, this time loud enough to garner some looks, particularly from Mel (concern) and his mother (disapproval). "What are you talking about?" he asks, voice considerably quieter.
"I heard Aunt Tracy and Uncle Jim talking about how cute you are together. And Valerie's mom definitely asked Mel how long you two have been dating."
"And did she say we weren't?"
"I mean, yeah," Jojo confirms. He doesn't care to examine why it feels like a punch to his solar plexus. "But it's the fact that Mom thought so in the first place."
"We're friends," he protests, but it sounds weak even to his own ears. But really. That is what they are. He would say she's his best friend, and he hers, after Becca. It's amazing, really, when he thinks about how they became so close so fast — it's only been nine months since he came back to PTMC, since they reconnected and began building this friendship, but he feels like he's known her for years.
He's told her things he's never told anyone else before. She knows about how he nearly threw up when they first found out Abby was pregnant, scared but so, so excited to be a father; he used to wake up in the middle of the night and talk to Tanner in Abby's belly, whispered musings of how he imagined Tanner would be and how loved he was already, all while Abby slept on, and how he continued that tradition when she was pregnant with Penny. How he and Abby had already been sleeping in separate bedrooms for over six months by the time he was caught, their marriage fizzling out and the drugs and the rehab being the final nail in the coffin; how the finalized divorce a month after he came back was merely a legal confirmation of something they'd known for a long, long time. The brown noise and pink noise playlists he has on deck on Spotify, first utilized starting the week before he came back to PTMC, now employed before and/or after shifts when the anxiety and self-doubt of losing his touch got a little too overwhelming, even after nine months back.
And Mel's told him things too. How she hates drinking anything without a straw because of the way the liquids coat her teeth. The way she couldn't sleep for weeks after her mom passed, rendering them orphans, dozing in fits and waking up every hour with her heart galloping in her chest, refusing to calm down until she confirmed Becca was still alive and breathing in her bedroom. How Mel had started figure skating because her mother had done it for years, had even been talented enough to win a couple of local championships every year (well, of course she had, Frank thought). How she eventually had to stop because Becca's doctor's appointments and mortgages and car payments became too expensive for her parents to continue paying for Mel's skates and coaches and costumes. The way she recently started trying to make time to hit the local ice rink during their public skate hours, just to be on the ice again and feel her blades glide along the surface.
All that to say, Frank has never been friends with someone the way he is with Mel. They care about each other deeply, and have all but confirmed that they felt some sort of connection from the first day they'd met, two Septembers ago now. It's easy to talk to her without worrying about being judged or having to pretend to be someone he isn't, and he knows she feels the same way.
"It's just—she's Mel. I know, okay, don't give me that look," he says when Jojo looks at him like he's an idiot. "I mean, she's so kind and thoughtful and caring with everyone, not just me. She's been taking care of Becca since they were eighteen, and she put herself through undergrad and med school and residency, and is still somehow standing despite all of that. But beyond that, she's so funny once you understand her humor, and she likes murder mysteries and romcoms, which are like so opposite of each other, and has a whole criteria list for ranking boba, which is crazy thorough and makes so much sense for her. And she's just so good, you know? She makes me want to be a better person every single day, and I feel like she has made me better, just by proxy of being her friend, and—What?"
Jojo is staring at him with her most pointed look, meaning she's passed the point of tolerating him and is completely done with his shit. He's very familiar with it. She doesn't say anything, though, just keeps her gaze steady and piercing, until finally, it clicks.
"Oh." Maybe he doesn't just think of her as a friend, then. "Wow, am I an idiot? Don't answer that."
Jojo laughs, leaning back in her chair and swiping his drink off the table, finishing it off in two gulps. "At least you're aware."
"What do I do? Do I tell her? What if she doesn't like me back? Should I wait for her to say something first?"
"Jesus, what are you, twelve?" Jojo scoffs, looking exasperated. "It's a miracle you managed to get married once before."
"Hey." He frowns. "I just wanna do it right. You know it's been a while for me."
"Yeah, no kidding." He kicks at her shin, making her laugh. "I mean, if you're asking for an outsider's perspective, I think she likes you too. Only a girl who likes you would be willing to sit in a car with you for two hours and put up with our family like this." Frank perks up a little at that, because Mel certainly had been excited to meet his family, but he could've also easily chalked it up to that just being who she was.
But maybe he didn't need to. Maybe the rumors flying around and the looks they got in the ED when they worked together did have some truth behind them. The way Mel blushed every time he sat close enough in the break room for their arms to brush before leaning into him too, or a few weeks ago when she'd accidentally knocked over a cup of pens at the hub after she overheard Garcia asking him about the blind date she'd set him up with. (Terrible — Elena had downed three dirty martinis in forty minutes then threw up on his shoes while waiting for her Uber. Which hadn't stopped her from asking if he wanted to go back to his place or hers. He'd kindly yet firmly told her that would not be happening.) Mel had awkwardly (endearingly) asked him how dating was going when he found her taking a breather in the ambulance bay a couple hours later. To this day, he still wasn't sure if she knew how obvious the relief had been on her face when he said he didn't think he was going to keep trying any time soon. He'd dismissed all of it — and God knows how much more — easily, never once entertaining the idea of Mel liking him that way.
God, maybe he really is an idiot.
His eyes flicker back up to Mel again. The sunshine is bathing her in a golden glow, the gentle breeze rustling her hair and her dress. She's laughing at something Valerie has just said, eyes bright and happy. He can hear it even from where he's sitting, and it makes a smile tug at his lips.
Jojo, of course, notices all of this.
"Frankie and Mel, sitting in a tree," she starts singing teasingly, "K-I-S-S—oomph." She glares at Frank, who's just pushed a handful of crackers into her mouth in an attempt to shut her up. Mission accomplished, he thinks smugly.