Archive of Our Own

Mel diagnoses a seizure due to meningioma in a 74-year-old woman named Mrs. Jones around noon. Becca calls around the same time. 

“Most meningioma are treatable, and most will not return,” She explains clinically to Ms. Jones’s daughter, a wide-eyed redhead wearing an enormous, plastic pearl necklace. She fiddled with the baubles whenever Mel spoke, nervously clinking them against each other. 

Mel couldn’t help but stare despite her attempts to retain direct professional eye-contact. She stared pointedly in the middle of the younger Ms. Jones’s eyebrows, a trick she’d learned in elementary school. People generally could not tell if you were staring at their eyebrows or their eyes, but the younger Ms. Jones could certainly tell every time Mel’s eyes flicked downward to where she fiddled with her necklace like it was a wriggling snake. 

“Are you not a big jewelry person?” She asked, and Mel furrowed her eyebrows in mild confusion. 

“Uh, I mean, it’s not really advisable for doctors to wear lots of jewelry. It’s sort of a messy job,” She grimaced, not wanting to inadvertently bring up blood and guts to someone who did not look accustomed to dealing with them, “And, you can lose things easily when you’re hurrying around…” She paused, her phone buzzing insistently in her pocket, “I do wear, um, earrings.” 

Mel turned her head to the side, pointing out her lucky horse-shoe earrings. The younger Ms. Jones looked only mildly impressed.

“Ah.” She nodded. 

“Do you have any, um… questions about your mother?” Mel was trying to get back on track, but her phone was buzzing again. Had she accidentally paid for something late? The car, the center? That was very unlikely. Mel kept a strict schedule. Most things were automatic. Was it Becca? Could something be horribly wrong? Allergic reaction? Broken ankle? … Meningioma?

She bit the inside of her lip, forcing her brain back on track. 

“Do you ever have the occasion to wear jewelry?"  The younger Ms. Jones asked. 

Mel squinted, struggling to understand the question, “I… Well… No, I guess not.” Then, she frowned again, because that was not quite true, “Actually, I am going to a wedding this weekend. So, maybe I will wear jewelry there.” 

“That’s nice, honey,” The younger Ms. Jones said, twisting the pearls deftly. Mel felt like she was missing something. Or, perhaps, the younger Ms. Jones also needed some kind of head scan. 

“I’m going to step out for a moment, could I get you some water, or something? A snack? Please let me know if you have any more questions for me.” 

The younger Ms. Jones nodded, leaning back in her chair, her mother asleep in the bed beside her. Mel waited a moment for her to say anything, to ask for water or a sandwich, but she was quiet, so she got up and dimmed the lights on her way out. 

“All good?” Dr. Langdon appeared over her shoulder as soon as she stepped out of the room. Mel would have ordinarily been startled, but she had already taken her phone out of her pocket and was staring down the two missed face-times from Becca. This could either be bad news, or absolutely nothing. Why was it always bad news or absolutely nothing? Why couldn’t it ever be a winning lotto ticket? Free ice cream? Mel sighed, she didn’t even buy lotto tickets. 

“Oh, well, I’m not sure, actually,” She said, looking up from her phone to meet Dr. Langdon’s eyes (she didn’t have to look at his eyebrows, although they were very nice and shapely), “Mrs. Jones’s daughter didn’t respond how I thought she would to her mother’s diagnosis, I’m wondering if she might want to talk to a social worker.”

“Was she upset?” Langdon probed, walking briskly beside her, like a shark who could never stop moving. 

“No, she was just kind of… she just started talking about jewelry, actually. She didn’t respond to the diagnosis at all. And she was wearing this giant necklace…”

Langdon looked down at her, slightly perplexed, “... I’ll go check on her.” He looked surreptitiously at her phone, following the path of her worried gaze, “Do you need to handle that?”

“Um, yes. If that’s alright. It’s my sister.” 

“Go for it.” He said, giving her a nod. 

Mel, relieved, hurried out of the automatic doors into the ambulance bay. 

It was warm outside, spring had come and the weather had gone from freezing to calamitously warm in one fell swoop. She stayed out of the sun, picking a shadowy spot by the bike rack. She Facetime'd Becca who appeared abruptly, all glasses for a moment until she adjusted the frame. 

“What is it?” Mel asked hurriedly, trying to be brief, “Is something wrong?” 

“Well,” said Becca, drawing out the word in a way that foreshadowed a long conversation, “I think if I tell you, you might be upset with me.” 

Mel couldn’t control the expression on her face, eyes going huge, hand moving sharply to the elastic hair tie in her braid, fiddling with it, “Are you sick? Is anything wrong?” She tried to peer behind Becca, to get a look at her surroundings. Everything looked fine, Becca was in a bright room, sitting on what looked like a couch near a sunny window.

“I’m not sick! I’m fine, Mel. You know the wedding is on Saturday, right?” Mel raised her eyebrows at this rather blasé response from her sister, feeling caught half-way between curiosity and anxiety. 

“Yes. I know the wedding is on Saturday. We’ve talked about it a lot. Is this about the wedding?” Mel tried to make her voice sound calm, not so strained. This was still something she was getting used to, working in the ED. How to go from somewhere full of absolute panic to sounding normal on the phone with her sister. She tried to tell her brain that not everyone was in an emergency. 

“Your face is so worried, Mel. I feel like you’re going to yell.” 

Mel blinked, now focusing on containing her frustration, “Becca,” she reasoned, “If you weren’t going to tell me, why did you call?” Then, self-conscious, she added, “I don’t yell…” 

“One time you did, do you remember? At the hospital?” 

Mel deflated, rubbing the heel of her hand against her forehead, “I know. I’m very sorry about that, Becca. I promise right now that I won’t yell, okay?” She cursed herself for not being a better sister, for not being more patient, more kind. She could always do more and be more. 

Becca took a deep breath, then seemed prepared to finally divulge why she had called: “Okay. Well, you know how I’m bringing Adam to cousin Claire’s wedding?”

Mel nodded, offering Becca a smile of encouragement. Although she’d had her misgivings about Adam, since she’d had a chance to get to know him better, things were smooth sailing so far. Now that Mel was further away from the situation, she had come to understand that there was no way Becca would date a guy she knew that Mel wouldn’t like. 

“Well, Aunt Irene asked if you were bringing any one.” 

Mel nodded again, urging Becca to continue. Becca stared at her for a moment, looking guilty, the flicker of a smile teasing at the corner of her mouth. 

“... And you told her no. Because I’m not bringing anyone. Right?” 

“I did not do that.” Becca said, looking sideways, avoiding Mel’s eye.

Mel blanched, swallowing hard, eyelids stuttering. But she had to keep her cool. She could not yell. She could not freak out. 

“I told Aunt Irene that you were bringing your boyfriend.” 

Mel’s face twisted, eyes going big and wide, “You told her what?”

“See! I told you! You look like you want to yell!” 

She took a deep breath, trying not to prove Becca right. She did want to yell. But she didn’t. 

“Becca,” She said, as calmly as she could, “I don’t have a boyfriend. You know that. I’ve never had a boyfriend.” The last line, in a whisper.

“Well, I told her that Dr. Langdon was your boyfriend.” 

“Becca.” She didn’t yell. She did not yell. 

“You look really pale, Mel,” Becca said observationally, tilting her head to the side, “Maybe you should have some water.” 

“I…” She struggled to find the words. She kind of just wanted to cry. Although she liked Adam now, him and his family, it was still a sore spot. A splinter. A reminder of all the ways she’d fallen behind in life. Becca had a boyfriend. Mel had a job. 

“I’m sorry… you look really upset!” 

Mel sniffed, “Um. Yes, I am upset. I mean,” She struggled to articulate herself, trying to put the words together, “Becca… did you think about how much more embarrassing this will be for me when I show up with no one?” 

Becca’s brow furrowed, she looked frustrated, “No. I just thought that maybe then he could come! I really like Dr. Langdon, and I know you do too.” 

“But he’s not my boyfriend. And I’m sure he can’t drop everything to come to some family wedding all the way in Baltimore.” 

“Well, maybe if you just ask–” 

“I’m not going to–” 

She couldn’t finish her sentence, because the man of the hour came right out of the automatic doors, shielding his eyes from the sun and squinting, looking around, looking for her.

“I gotta go, Becca.” She said abruptly, eyes going all big again, flooded with shock and embarrassment. She hung up, not able to stay long enough to hear Becca’s response. 

“Hey, Dr. King,” Langdon said as he strode up, but he faltered a bit when he got a look at her face. She looked pale and clammy, “You okay?” He asked, stooping down a bit to get a good look at her. 

“I… I’m fine,” It was catastrophic. She was, perhaps, the world’s worst liar. In fact, she even feels guilty just for saying that. 

“You don’t look fine.” Langdon was a great liar, but he didn’t lie now. 

“My sister,” She started, then remembered that Becca and Langdon had met, “Becca,” She added sheepishly, “She, um,” Mel struggled to find the words, blinking back tears. She didn’t even want to go to the wedding at all. And now, this.

“Woah, woah,” Concerned, Langdon put out his arm as if to touch her shoulder, then, not knowing if that was the right thing to do, drew back his hand. 

“I’m sorry,” She said, taking a deep breath and attempting to calm herself down, not wanting to cry, already so embarrassed, “It’s not actually a big deal, I know we shouldn’t bring in baggage–” 

“Listen,” Langdon said, kneeling down so he could get a good look at her, “It happens, okay? If you don’t want to talk about it, it’s fine. Just promise me you’ll take ten minutes and have some water. I just came out to tell you that the other Jones– the daughter? We decided to admit.” 

“Oh?” Mel said, sniffing and wiping her cheeks, “Was she, um, showing further cognitive impairment?” 

“Well, she gave the social worker a similar kind of response and we have no way of knowing her baseline, so…” He wavered his hand around, then shrugged, “Better safe than sorry.” 

“Absolutely.” Mel nodded hurriedly, “Thank you for letting me know, Dr. Langdon.” 

He paused for a moment, looking at her face, searching her eyes for some kind of further understanding, “... Is Becca okay?” 

“She’s great,” Mel sighed, her shoulders sagging, “It’s, um,” She wished so badly that she could lie, her life would be so much easier. She breathed quickly out of her nose, “We’re going to a wedding this weekend in Baltimore for my cousin, Claire. She’s bringing her new boyfriend, Adam… I’m sure you remember, um– anyway, so my aunt asked if I was bringing anyone. And,” She stared ahead blankly for a moment, ears burning, “She told my aunt that I was bringing you. For some reason. I mean, she just has this idea about you from when she came in on the fourth of July, and– I’m sorry, this is so inappropriate, but now I have to show up to the wedding and it’s not just like she’s showing up with her boyfriend and I’m showing up alone, which is bad enough, but I’m showing up alone when they think I’m showing up with you. Which is, like, really bad. I mean, it’s just ridiculous.” 

She’d been talking so fast that she actually needed to take a breath afterwards. She couldn’t look Langdon in the eye even though she could feel him staring at her expectantly, couldn’t even do her eyebrow trick. 

He blinked at her for a moment, a flicker of about five different reactions showing on his face, and then finally: cool indifference. 

“Abby has the kids this weekend,” He said with a shrug, “Do you want me to drive?” 

Yes. Yes, she did. 

To Mel’s surprise, Dr. Langdon showed up about fifteen minutes early. He drove a slate gray Subaru Outback, 2015, with a dent in the left-side passenger door. 

Becca ran out first to meet him in her pale-pink chiffon dress, looking like a garden fairy. 

“Dr. Langdon!” She came to a stop right outside of his car, panting, “I didn’t think I would see you at the house, but you’re,” she looked down at her watch, “Fourteen minutes early!” 

“Oh, yeah,” He looked handsome in a pressed white button-up and black dress pants, “Sorry about that. I thought Mel’s place was further away.” He glanced upwards at Mel’s apartment building, brick and unassuming, “Do you like coffee?” 

“Yes. But Mel doesn’t, so don’t give her any.” 

Frank laughed, leaning into his car to grab a drink-holder with an assortment of cups, “Yeah, I know, I’ve made that mistake before.” About a month prior, he had brought Mel an iced-coffee that he thought she might like, carrot-cake flavor with a whipped topping that seemed completely innocuous. While Mel had taken it with a smile on her face, he’d actually had to tell her several hours later that she didn’t have to drink it if she didn’t like it, after watching her take a sip and visibly shudder. 

“Sorry that I told Aunt Irene you were Mel’s boyfriend,” Becca said after a beat, wrinkling her nose as if she was reliving the experience now, “I just wanted her to have someone to bring and not be all by herself. Aunt Irene always asks if Mel has a boyfriend.” 

“Well,” He felt a bit sheepish, “I am a boy, and I am her friend, so you’re not too far off.” 

“But you don’t kiss each other, or go on dates, or have sex.” 

“No,” He handed Becca her coffee, “We don’t.” 

“Becca? You didn’t tell me you were—” Mel appeared in the doorway of the apartment’s lobby, her hair half-curled, wearing a filmy lilac dress with spaghetti-straps that made Frank’s mouth feel a little dry, “Oh!” She squeaked, “Good morning, Dr. Langdon. You’re early!” 

“So I’ve been told,” He smiled, trying not to stare at her bare shoulders, the long column of her neck, milky white. And, god help him, he could see freckles on her shoulders and very badly wanted to investigate them, “Tea?” 

“Wow, um, thanks a ton,” She was nervous, her hands going to her half-done hair before letting it fall down around her shoulders, quickly walking over to take the cup from his waiting hand, “You didn’t have to do all this.”

“We need it for the journey.” He said sagely, and all of them stood for a moment on the sidewalk. Langdon kept his eyes downcast, only stealing glances towards Mel when he felt that he was strong enough to look at her without spontaneously combusting. She was cute. Pixie-like. Becca sipped at her drink.

“Becca,” Mel turned to address her sister, “Adam’s mom texted me and told me they’re about five minutes away. Should we make sure you have everything you need? Did you grab a cardigan? You might get cold if you sit in the shade.” 

“I don’t need a cardigan,” Becca insisted, “My bags are all packed.” 

“Okay… well, maybe just to be sure, we should double-check…” Mel wrung her hands, clearly a lot more anxious about this event than Becca was. 

“We don’t need to double-check.”

“Right. Sorry,” She took a big breath and Frank watched as her shoulders rose and fell, he’d never seen her with her hair down and he kept having to remind himself to look away. 

“What about you, Mel? Do you need to pack up my car?” 

“Oh,” She laughed, a nervous little titter, “No, I didn’t overpack... um, are you sure about this, by the way? I’m giving you an out right now. It’s a long drive, and the hotel…” She didn’t say “and Aunt Irene”, but the silence that followed had a weight to it that implied everything it needed to.

“Don’t worry about it, Mel, I told you: I’m the perfect guy for the job,” He gave her a reassuring smile, “I’m a pro at lying. And weddings. Seriously, grandmas love me. Plus, Dana won’t let me come in this weekend. She said I did too many doubles in a row.” Going home to an empty, half-furnished apartment was torture, he’d been trying to work as much as humanly possible to avoid it all-together, “It’ll be fun. I’ll make it fun.” 

That was presumptuous, but Mel felt her cheeks prickling, squirming where she stood. He had a knack for making her feel all hot inside, unlike anyone she had ever met before.

“If you’re sure.” She said, taking a sip of her tea. 

“I’m sure. Becca’s sure, too. Right, Becca?” 

“Yes. It will be fun!” Becca grinned, looking at the pair of them like she was admiring her handiwork. 

Once Mel had seen off Becca with Adam’s family, which involved much fanfare and yet another attempt to double-check Becca’s packing, she ran upstairs to grab her duffle bag and lock up her apartment. Then, with horror, she realized she had forgotten to curl the other half of her hair. 

“Oh, no!” She cried, looking in Langdon’s rearview mirror at her hair, which was half-flat and half-wavy, “Cousin Claire is going to have a field day about this.” She said gravely. 

“It doesn’t look so bad… won’t anyone have, like, a curling iron there? Do you have time to run in?”

“No, no, we don’t want to be late…” She sighed, then climbed into Langdon’s passenger seat, “I’ll just braid it in here.” 

“The braid is good,” He assured her, starting his car and typing in the directions to his GPS.

“I just…” She shrugged, buckling in, “I wanted to look different. Nicer.” 

“You always look nice,” He said, and took off towards the highway. 

For their roughly four hour drive, Langdon had prepared multiple means of entertainment. He’d made an “Ultimate Roadtrip Playlist”, which had a wide variety of genres in hopes that some of them might appease Mel’s undefinable music taste. He had curated a caddy full of snacks, mostly ones he had seen Mel eat in the break-room, as well as some candy, which he wasn’t totally sure about, but went for the crowd-pleasers. Reese's Pieces, Sour Patch Watermelons, and Scandinavian Swimmers from Trader Joe's–- his personal vice. 

Mel was delighted by the snacks and charmed by the playlist, although she spent a lot of time mostly staring out the window and wringing her hands. At one point, she tucks her legs underneath herself and Langdon gets a flash of her bare thigh. He thinks that perhaps going to this wedding was the best decision he has ever made. 

Finally, after about an hour, she seemed to gather the courage to bring up what was eating at her. 

“So…” She said, and then cleared her throat, shifting in her seat uncomfortably, “About the, um, Aunt situation.” 

“Yeah, so, what’s the story with that?” 

“Well, Becca told my aunt––” 

“Oh, yeah, I mean I know that part,” He said, clearly completely unbothered by this scenario that was causing Mel so much turmoil, “I just mean, like, we should nail down a backstory, right? To how we started dating.” 

“Oh!” Mel flushed deeply, and then reflexively dove for a bag of Sour Patch kids, tearing them open and shoving one into her mouth nervously, “Do you really think they’ll ask? I was just… I mean, um, I’m alright with just saying that we’re friends and Becca made a mistake.” 

“If you want,” He shrugged, “But I told you, I’m committed to the bit if you want to just avoid a little drama.” 

“This would be the drama,” Mel tore at the edge of her candy wrapper, then smoothed it out again rhythmically, “I’ve never— you know. This would be,” she cleared her throat again, then grabbed her water bottle from the floor, “My first time bringing someone to an event.” 

“I got it,” He said, understanding, trying not to smile at her, he didn’t want her to think he was being patronizing, but the whole thing was pretty endearing, “So, let’s not make it a big deal. We can just, uh, keep to the real timeline, right? We met at work, obviously. A little over a year ago. And we don’t need to bring up the rehab and divorce, and everything.”

“Oh, Dr. Langdon, I would never––” She was aghast, and then he did let himself laugh. 

“I’m kidding, Mel, I’m kidding. I know you wouldn’t. I’m just saying that, y’know,” He shrugged again, “I know I’m not a catch,” (Mel seemed appalled by this statement, but she isn’t able to get a word in as Langdon continues), “so, I’m honored Becca even brought me up. I really am happy to go with you, and I don’t mind all of this stuff. It’s like, uh, making up a fake backstory in an Uber.” 

She laughed nervously, “Why would anyone do that?” 

“I don’t know… because it’s fun?” 

For the rest of the drive, Mel told Frank about her family. About her mother and father, who were dead, and about her mother’s sister, Aunt Irene, who had shipped Mel her old Honda Civic when she had been orphaned in college and become Becca’s sole caretaker. To him, an old Honda Civic wasn’t much, but Mel seemed to feel quite indebted towards her, despite her otherwise standoffish behavior. 

Cousin Claire was a nutritionist in Maryland who was obsessed with running marathons, tanning, and her Pomeranian named Pipple who had a biting problem. The bridal party was packed full of her former sorority sisters, which was why Mel assumed she hadn’t been asked, although Langdon gathered they didn’t seem to have much in common. Her fiance, a construction manager from Virginia was named Brent and looked the part, and Mel had never met him, but had seen photos of him on Facebook forced to pose with a fork at cake-tasting events, Pipple biting at his heels. 

Frank found it intensely charming that way that she referred to her family members with epithets like she was a Homeric storyteller. It was always Cousin Claire and Aunt Irene, as if their titles were tacked onto them. He wondered if this habit was why she always called him Dr. Langdon, even now in the car, both of them so far from PTMC they had crossed state-lines. 

When they finally pulled up to the venue, they were nearly an hour early.

“This place is crazy,” Langdon whistled, impressed. 

Gramercy Mansion was a sprawling Bed & Breakfast with tasteful old brick and all of the romantic accouterments that wedding venues often boasted. A green grass lawn with fairy-lights strung through the trees and covered seating areas, a stately carriage house with an Edwardian garden and atrium, and in the middle: a fountain with a fat little baby cherub. 

“Yeah,” Mel breathed, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the scenery, watching wedding guests mill around the lawn like ants, “I think Brent might be loaded.” 

“Good for Brent.” Langdon mused. 

Mel was grateful Langdon had driven his car when they approached the valet parking, because she had always found the concept both perplexing and disturbing, but Langdon seemed unbothered and even gave the driver a cash tip. They took out their bags and set them up on a luggage cart and rather gracelessly shoved it up the ramp to enter the B&B. 

“Is the room under your name, or mine?” He asked, taking out his wallet and handing yet more cash to any one from the venue who assisted them. Mel was distracted, wondering if she had been a bad customer all of the other times she’d stayed anywhere, were you supposed to give everyone money? Her head felt fuzzy, distressed and aroused by Langdon’s proficiency in this intricate social ritual that Mel hadn’t even known existed. She blinked up at Langdon, her eyes wide and distracted, before she clocked back in. Oh, he had asked her a question hadn’t he? 

“Um, mine,” She was even further distracted by his large hand, which rested naturally on the small of her back in a way that paired them together as a couple, “But make sure it’s not Becca’s room, she and Adam have their own.” 

“Got it,” He said, and they approached the front desk. Obviously, Langdon was used to touching women. Abby probably, at one point, got to feel his warm, sure hand on the small of her back every day. Mel made a note to be sure she would not take this for granted. She would be sure to touch herself about this exact scenario later, after the whole situation had blown over. 

“We’re checking in under King,” Mel felt her cheeks heat up a bit, hearing her name come out of his mouth in this context. The ease at which he moved through life was so impressive. If she had come here alone, she would have been fumbling with all of her bags, scattered and awkward with the desk attendant. It was a weight off her shoulders, not having to deal with it. It was euphoric.

“Are you here for the wedding?” The man asked, typing at his computer with efficiency. 

“Yep,” Langdon said, smiling and clapping Mel on the shoulder, tugging her to his side. Of course. Did he even know what he’s doing to her? Mel felt like such a freaking pervert. 

“I’ve got two Kings here,” He said, squinting at his computer and then clicking decisively, “Alright, there you go.”

He got out the key cards, passing them over to Langdon, and then, to Mel’s surprise, Langdon took out his own credit card for the security deposit on the room. 

“Hey,” She whispered, yanking (politely as one could) at his sleeve, “It’s my treat! Don’t put the room on your card!” 

Langdon shrugged, infuriatingly blasé, “This is part of dating, Mel,” She went stark red immediately, all the way down to her chest, “I’m from North Carolina, my mom would kill me if she found out you paid for anything this weekend.” 

“Well– that’s—” She struggled to find the words to protest, it wasn’t as if the desk attendant was going to tell everyone if she paid for the room, “... Okay, but I’m going to pay you back after. Promise?” 

“Yeah, alright, promise.” Then he winked, which Mel found very suspicious. 

They dragged their bags up to their room on the second floor. The door labeled it the “Bar Harbor Room”. 

“This is very fancy,” Mel said, sounding a bit concerned. She looked charming in her party dress with a ratty duffle thrown over her shoulder. Sort of Cinderella-esque. She was so girl-next-door. Langdon hoped she wouldn’t disappear come midnight, or something stupid like that. The duffle bag made one of the flimsy straps of Mel’s dress slide down her shoulder, and Langdon reached over to slide it back up her bare shoulder, the pads of his fingers brushing over the freckles there. Cute cute cute. 

“No kidding, is breakfast included with this?” He asked as he scanned the keycard, finding it uncomfortably reminiscent of work. 

“I’m not sure… it should say on this little pamphlet… it’s called a Bed & Breakfast, after all.” 

Frank pushed the door open, and they were greeted by a green wall-papered room with a tear-drop chandelier and some rather matronly curtains. On the wall, a small placard that explained the room decor was inspired by North American birds. Hm. 

Mel frowned, putting her duffle bag aside and checking around the room. The bathroom, which had a jetted tub, and then a small closet, which had an ironing board and nothing else. 

“There’s… there’s no cot, or anything,” She wrung her hands, looking over at him with exasperation. After such a long drive and knowing the day was even longer ahead of them, she hardly had the bandwidth for this issue, “I’m sorry, I swore I booked a double… maybe they gave us Becca’s room.” Mel looked embarrassed, her cheeks pink, tension in her shoulders, the most pathetic little furrow in her brow, which Langdon wanted to rub his thumb over until she relaxed. She kept peeking at him like she was in trouble. 

“It’s fine,” Frank assured her, crossing the room and leaning up against the bed, reaching for the phone on the bedside table, “I’ll just call and ask.” 

“Thank you.” She said, because she would really rather do anything but call and ask. 

While Frank spoke on the phone with the front desk, she went to the bathroom to fix her hair. Really, it wasn’t that bad, because the curls had fallen out on the drive anyways, so now her hair looked mostly uniform. She ran her fingers through it, then tucked it behind her ears, then frowned. She never thought she looked right all dressed-up. She considered touching up her make-up, just some mascara and a little blush, but she didn’t want to get anything out of her bag if they had to change rooms. 

“What’d they say?” She asked, peering out of the room to where Langdon leaned on the bed. 

“They said they’re all full up for the wedding,” He shrugged, “It’s fine, Mel, I don’t mind taking the floor. They gave us a million pillows, anyway.”

“No,” Mel’s face fell, “The floor will hurt your back!” 

“Really, it won’t be too bad,” He assessed the floor, “There’s plush carpet.” This was sort of a joke, but Mel clearly wasn’t in the joking mood. 

“I’m sorry,” She said, leaning back up against the bed beside him, “I dragged you all the way here and you don’t even have a bed.” 

“I told you,” He reached out and touched her hand, even though they were all by themselves, Mel shivered, “I want to be here. Okay? You didn’t drag me anywhere. Now, if you’re ready, let’s go downstairs and be the hottest couple at this wedding.” 

Mel flushed, making that pleased little face she did whenever he gave her a task, their hands were still touching. Mel’s index finger brushed over the top of Langdon’s, and he sucked in a breath, ignoring the sudden rush of arousal flooding his chest. “Not hotter than the bride and groom, though. That would be rude.” 

“Of course, of course,” Langdon nodded politely, although he did have his own personal opinions on the subject. 

Downstairs, preparation for the wedding was in full-swing. Mel loitered in a corner, trying to connect to the venue’s wifi to text Becca and see what her ETA was. The last Mel had heard, they had stopped for Shake Shack.

“Mel? Is that you?” A woman with curly blonde hair bounded over to them, her dress the taffeta floral of the bridal party, “Of course it is! Always with those same glasses,” She threw her arms around Mel, tugging her into a hug, which made her stiffen uncomfortably. 

Langdon’s eyebrows shot up slightly in surprise. He caught Mel’s eyes over the woman’s shoulder, mouthing “Who is this?” but Mel only looked back at him with mild panic. 

“Oh– um, hi, Sarah,” Mel finally said when she was released from the woman’s arms, smoothing out her dress and straightening up her glasses, “It’s… good to see you.” 

“Aw, you’re just the cutest, look at you all dressed up!” Langdon squinted in confusion, they looked to be around the same age, but Sarah talked to Mel like she was a toddling flower girl. 

“Thank you,” Mel said, measured, but polite, “You look nice, too.” 

Awkwardly, Langdon cleared his throat, and then stuck out his hand, “Hi. I’m Frank.” 

“Oh!” Said Mel with a start, as if she’d forgotten about the concepts of introductions, “Sorry, um, Sarah, this is my… boyfriend, Dr. Langdon. Dr. Langdon, this is Sarah, she’s a, um, family friend.” 

“Your boyfriend?” Sarah looked aghast as she sized up Langdon, finally taking his hand and shaking it, “You’re kidding!” 

“Um, nope,” Langdon was offended on Mel’s behalf, although she didn’t blink at Sarah’s backhanded comments, “Not kidding.” As if to refute her, he drew his arm around Mel’s shoulder protectively, tugging her to his side. Mel’s cheeks got hot, and she sucked her lip into her mouth. 

“Wow, good for you,” And then, unsubtly, she mouthed "He’s cute!” to Mel, who just stared. 

“No, really, that’s great, I’m so happy for you guys! She used to be such an ugly duckling,” Sarah laughed sharply, which made Mel visibly wince, “I’ll show you a picture later– like, headgear and everything!” 

“It was to correct an over-bite.” Mel said matter-of-factly. 

“We’re a perfect match, then,” Langdon shrugged, “I had a lazy eye. Anyways, we have to go, uh, track down Becca. We’ll see you later.” And he tugged Mel away before Sarah could get another word in. 

“Is your entire family like that?” Langdon whispered, ducking down to Mel’s ear as he walked her quickly down the hallway tucked under his arm, “No offense, she was a real piece of work.” 

“Who, Sarah?” Mel looked a little perplexed by Langdon’s assessment, “Like what?”

“Generally unpleasant? She was making digs at you the whole time. Do you guys have some kind of family feud going on, or something?” 

“Oh… no, um,” Despite herself, Mel let out a giggle, “Yeah, I guess she is always like that!” 

“Oh, joy.” 

“Did you really have a lazy eye?” Mel asked after a moment, peering up at Langdon as if she was trying to see if it was still noticeable. 

“Oh, no,” He laughed, “My sister did, though. She had to wear a patch. My mom embroidered them, so she didn’t look like a pirate.”

Becca arrived with Adam and his family, who all were very nice– and especially patient with Mel’s mild neuroticism concerning her sister. She asked Becca what she had eaten, if she had sunscreen on, if she’d brought a water bottle, and Langdon could tell she would continue in this vein until she was blue in the face, so he intervened by gently coercing her towards the garden where people had begun seating for the ceremony. 

“Let me get you some water,” He said, depositing Mel in her seat and striding over towards some water coolers full of ice, various fruits and cucumbers. He filled her up a clear plastic cup with some, allegedly, strawberry-infused water, although it didn’t look too different to him. 

His interaction with Sarah had disturbed him slightly. When he had imagined Mel’s family, he had imagined Mel sanctified and respected, the way that doctors typically were. She had lost her father in middle school, her mother in college, and had come out of it competent, resilient, and empathetic. He had expected everyone who knew her to recognize that, for her to walk in as some kind of hometown hero, for everyone to flock over and ask her about how many people she had saved, to congratulate her on her success, her genius. 

And what the hell did she mean by “you’re kidding”? What was so fantastical, so unlikely, about him being with Mel? Mel was beautiful, accomplished, sweet. In fact, he felt lucky that Mel even still wanted to be seen with him, after everything that had happened. He was a loser. He was a fuck-up. Mel was an angel. He had the sudden dangerous urge to do something that would make them all understand how lucky they were that Mel even graced them all with her presence. Of course, he didn’t exactly know what that would entail, but he decided there at the water cooler that if the chance presented itself, he would take it. 

“Here,” He said, as he walked back to sit beside her, offering the cup which she gratefully took a sip of, looking pleasantly around at the decorations and blooming flowers that surrounded them. 

After a second, she wrinkled her nose, “... Is there something in this?” She asked, squinting up at him. 

“Uh… strawberries, so they say.”

“It tastes like grass.” Delicately, she handed him back the cup, newly stained with what seemed to be a pink gloss. This made Langdon’s head buzz, to think of her pretty lips, how they might taste. He attempted to subtly set it on the ground. 

After about twenty minutes had passed, the seats around them became fuller and fuller and uncomfortable murmuring began to emerge from the crowd. Langdon leaned back in his seat, looking down at his watch. The ceremony was due to start 8 minutes ago. 

“Maybe she got cold feet,” He leaned over to whisper to Mel, who looked down at her ballet flats and then shook her head.

“I think it’s actually warmer than my weather app predicted.” She hummed, looking up and down the empty aisle. 

“Excuse me!” Called a voice from behind the water coolers, it was the front desk attendant who was looking slightly pale, “Is anyone here a medical professional?” 

Without missing a beat, Becca called, “Mel is!” and started pointing towards her sister. 

In tandem, Mel and Langdon jumped up and hurried over to the attendant, who began to briskly walk and gestured for them to follow. 

“Are you some kind of nurse?” He asked Mel, “The bride won’t let us call an ambulance.”

“Oh, um, no, I’m a medical doctor. We both are. What exactly is the problem?” 

“It’s… well,” He sighed, exasperated, “You’ll see.” 

With haste, they were led to what Mel could only describe as the “Getting Ready Room”. It looked like a boutique, everything ornate and decorated, flowers on every surface, and in the center, Cousin Claire in a sea of white, her dress puffed out around where she sat on the floor. Her bridesmaids flit around her like anxious butterflies, someone holding a bag of ice, another holding a washcloth pressed onto her wrist. Mel could see it was covered in blood. 

Just outside the door, the groom, sweating profusely, held a squirming, yapping ball of fur: Pipple. 

“Oh, dear,” Mel said, surveying the sorry scene. 

“Do you have a carrier for this dog?” Langdon asked, making a cautious move towards Pipple, and then yanking his hand back when the dog began to snap and growl again. 

“It’s back in there,” Brent managed, struggling with the dog, “But she won’t let me go in and see her. Y’know, bad luck.” 

“Right,” said Langdon, while Mel approached her cousin. 

“Let’s take a look at this,” She said, and Langdon almost had to pause to admire her, the way that she switched instantly from a wedding guest in her fancy dress to a doctor; using the calm, even voice she used to speak to patients, combing through the first aid kit that the clerk had brought from the back. 

“I was trying to get Pipple’s veil on,” Claire sniffed, gingerly holding out her arm, “I don’t know what happened–” 

“-- This thing bites, Claire! I’ve been trying to tell you!” Brent yelled from outside the door, while Langdon wrestled the writhing Pipple into a crate using a sweatshirt he’d found tossed somewhere on the ground as a buffer, it was bejeweled, sparkly letters spelling BRIDE along the back. 

“––It was an accident, Brent! Pipple would never do this on purpose! Oh, my poor baby,” She moaned, as Pipple chomped viciously at the bars of her crate. Langdon winced, shaking off his wrist before gently covering the crate with the sweatshirt, thinking maybe Pipple might appreciate a little R&R. 

Mel hunched up her shoulders uncomfortably as the couple shouted over the top of her head, resisting the urge to cover her ears. She tried to get a look at the bite, but it was difficult to see underneath all of the blood. Carefully, she urged Claire upright and gingerly led her to the bathroom sink, doing everything to avoid getting blood on her crisp, white dress.

“You look very pretty,” Mel said as she began to flush the wound. 

“Thanks,” Claire sniffed, “This is a total disaster. We’re already late.” 

“It’s okay,” Mel tried to be reassuring, “My mom always said that the wedding doesn’t actually start until the bride arrives. So, I think you’re on your own schedule.” 

“Right,” She sighed, “Thanks for coming, by the way. I know it was a drive.” 

“No problem,” Mel looked over her shoulder to lock eyes with Langdon across the room, “Can you bring the kit over?” She asked. By the bathroom door, a crowd of anxious bridesmaids stood to watch. Sarah brought up the rear, moving out of the way when Langdon pushed through with the case. 

In the mirror, Sarah locked eyes with Claire, “That’s the guy I was telling you about!” she said, not at all surreptitious. 

“This is your boyfriend?” Claire asked, pointing to Langdon, who looked completely out of place in his black suit-jacket, the only man, like a crow in a flock of doves.

“Oh, uh, yep, that’s me,” Langdon set the case down on the counter, cracking it open and taking a look. Systematically, he handed Mel some antibiotic ointment and sterile gauze, leaning over to examine the angry indentations on Claire’s wrist. 

“Yikes,” He said with a wince, “Pittle has all it’s shots, right?” 

“It’s Pipple, and yes of course she does,” Claire rolled her eyes, then sighed, looking Langdon up and down carefully, appraising him in the way that women often did.  “So you’re like, a doctor too?” 

“Yes, he’s nearly an attending,” Mel mused, leaning in close to check for any debris, “He’s very good at what he does.” For some reason that makes Langdon’s face hot. She thinks he’s good.

“I don’t know what that means,” Claire replied, but seemed satisfied with this explanation, “You guys met at the hospital?” 

“Yes, um, it just means he’s in charge,” Mel answered distractedly, turning up the water pressure slightly until Claire winced, “Sorry, I just have to flush everything out.” 

“That’s hot, like… Grey's Anatomy,” Said a bridesmaid from the corner, who stared at the two of them dreamily. 

Mel was about to protest, but Langdon, looking red, cut her off, “––Pretty much!” 

Together, as Langdon carefully covered Claire’s dress with a hotel towel and Mel skillfully applied antibiotic ointment and covered the wound with gauze, they got Claire put back together. 

“When the ceremony is over, I’ll make a call to the closest pharmacy and make sure that you get some antibiotics. Someone should run over and get them right away so you can start them today, okay?” As Mel spoke, Langdon smiled over at her proudly. 

Claire was staring in wonder at her wrist, which had looked only about ten minutes prior like a bloody mess, and now was clean and neatly tucked into some sterile gauze, “Do you guys do this all day?” 

“Nope,” Langdon said, smiling lopsidedly, “Usually it’s a lot worse.” 

Finally, forty-five minutes after the scheduled time, cousin Claire walked down the aisle to thunderous applause from her guests. Aunt Irene carried the incarcerated Pipple down the aisle at arm’s length, the veil set haphazardly on-top of the crate. 

At the reception, with a Shirley Temple in hand, Mel felt happy and relaxed for the first time since she’d made it into Baltimore. The Pipple incident had been good press for Mel, and distant relatives keep giving her high fives, and slapping Langdon on the back for containing the beast. 

He’d been trying to keep his hand on her. Her shoulder, her lower back, even once, brushing her hair out of her face. After Sarah’s previous slight, Langdon wanted to ensure that the entire wedding party was aware that Mel was highly desirable. That she was perfect. 

Her hair was longer than it was in the braid, hanging down along her back, honey-colored. He couldn’t stop staring at it. It was easy to be Mel’s boyfriend, to look in love with her. He kept finding himself worried that his gaze wasn’t intent enough, only to find that he was already looking, mouth ajar, eyes tracking her lovely face. 

This was troubling. 

It inspired in Frank a feeling of guilt in the pit of his stomach. Ever since leaving rehab for the second time, he’d been acutely aware of the guilt he carried around. A lot of it, for disappointing his family, his co-workers, his patients. So much of it, too, was reserved for Mel; sitting heavy like a stone in his stomach that Mel had been chipping away at ever since he’d come back–– “You never let me down”, she’d said, and like a prayer, like a mantra, he had kept her words like a promise. 

And now, this guilt was new.

As he looked down at her, leaning happily against his arm, so comfortable with his touch when she shrunk from any other, it was starting to feel like he was taking advantage. Because this all felt too good. But it wasn’t like he could stop now.

“Dr. Langdon?” It was only then that he realized she had said his name multiple times. 

“What’s up?” He said, blinking, trying to clear his head. 

“I said it’s almost time for dinner. I wanted to go and look at the menu so I know what to ask for.” 

“Oh, yeah, alright,” He allowed her to lead him by the hand, sticking close to her like a shadow. He hadn’t even expected dinner to be catered, so this was great news for Frank. 

Mel found herself by a menu board propped up across from the waiting catering carts. She chewed her lip, looking it up and down. Everything seemed to have something added to it that would make it completely inedible. Mashed potatoes, fine, but not with gravy on top. She didn't typically eat red meat, a wedding would be the occasion to do so, of course, but a steak had to be prepared correctly for her to want to eat it. Not well-done, but she didn’t like too much pink. And the vegetarian option had far too many mushrooms involved. And of course she wasn’t going to eat the chicken. She frowned deeply. 

“You okay, Mel?” Langdon asked, eyebrows furrowing at her expression. 

“Oh, um, yes, I’m just… not sure what I’m going to eat.” She worried at her bottom lip with her finger, concentrating. 

“You don’t like any of this stuff?” It all sounded fine to him, but of course he’d never been a picky eater, even when he was a kid. 

“Um, I like some of it. Just not all together,” Carefully, she explained all of the things she’d need modified, “I just hate to ask the waitstaff to change things… I always get nervous, and um, say the wrong thing, and then, it’s a total wash… I bet Becca brought Raising Canes in a take-out box…” She trailed off, looking slightly morose. Langdon noticed her lips were stained pink with grenadine. 

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll order for you. I like bossing people around,” 

This made Mel stiffen next to him and turn slowly to look up at him. She wrung her hands again, her eyes darting around his face.

“Oh, don’t boss them around! Just, y’know, ask nicely–” 

“I’m kidding, Mel. I’ll be a peach. Don’t worry about it.” 

Tentatively she smiled, “If you’re sure.” 

“Course I am.” 

She played with the straw in her drink, stirring it around, “I kind of get the feeling that you, um… like doing things for me? Am I reading that right?” She looked at him like she was testing something that she’d never tried before. 

Frank felt caught, reflexively, he reached up to mess with his hair, “Well… yeah. I guess I do,” he was surprised again by how easy it was to be honest with her. There was something about Mel, perhaps her own honesty, her heart on her sleeve, that rubbed off on him, “Is that okay?” 

Slowly, she nodded, “Yes. It’s okay.” 

“Good.” 

At dinner, Mel was upset to find that she hadn’t been seated by Becca. Instead, Becca and Adam were seated at the table beside them, where Becca waved happily to Mel about every five minutes, beaming, and Mel nervously looked back to check on her about just as frequently. 

They were seated with Aunt Irene, who made Langdon a little nervous, and another bridesmaid named Carolyn, a sharp-looking brunette who had been present for the dog bite.

Mel continued to order shirley temples, playing with the stem of her plucked maraschino cherry, while everyone else sipped champagne, except for Frank, who drank ice water. The small talk was only slightly uncomfortable, they stuck to chatting about the wedding, how beautiful the bride looked, Pipple’s crimes against humanity, all of which Langdon could play well with and Mel mostly ignored as she craned her neck to look over at Becca’s table. 

Aunt Irene was rather stern, but happy, and became more relaxed the more champagne was served. Langdon could only vaguely see how she was related to Mel. A similar face shape, maybe the slope of her nose. He came to the conclusion that she must take after her late father most of all. He wished that he could see a photo of them, but something about that felt alarmingly intimate. He made a mental note to comb through her Facebook that night while he camped out on the floor. 

Carolyn was curious about their jobs at the hospital, and impressed by how much schooling the whole ordeal was. She was a paralegal in DC and had gone to college with Cousin Claire, a sorority sister, Langdon came to understand. 

“So, how does that work?” Carolyn asked, a bit red in the face from her third glass of champagne. Dinner was taking quite a long time to get set-up, and everyone seemed to be both drinking and hungry, which was not an ideal combination. 

“How does what work?” replied Mel politely, blinking with surprise when Carolyn addressed her directly.

“Like, he’s in the doctor rank above you, right? He teaches you stuff. You’re still allowed to date? Like, it’s not an HR problem?” Mel went pink in the face, immediately beginning to stammer. 

“Well,” Langdon cut in, clearing his throat, “It’s a teaching hospital. So, we kind of all teach each other.” He said lamely, knowing that it wasn’t a very convincing case if you didn’t actually work at a hospital.

“I think it’s great,” said Aunt Irene boozily, “Lot’s of girls at Bennington used to date their professors back in the 70s. It’s an experience.” 

Mel coughed on her shirley temple, nearly doing a spit-take. Langdon stifled a snort that he tried to disguise by clearing his throat. 

“It’s definitely not–” he attempted to explain, while Carolyn looked on with raised eyebrows, but that was the precise moment that the waiter walked over with a notepad, looking slightly haggard. 

All went smoothly until he arrived at Mel and Langdon. Mel leaned up to Langdon’s ear and whispered exactly what she wanted, so that when the waiter asked for her order, she only looked over to Frank, who said: “She’ll have the steak, but she needs the potato plain with nothing on it, and the steak needs to be medium. Is that alright?” 

“That’s fine.” The waiter said in response, although he looked over at Mel as if he was wondering why she didn’t want to order herself. 

To the surprise of the other guests, Mel took Frank’s arm and said sweetly, “Thank you, Dr. Langdon!” and leaned up to kiss him soundly on the cheek. 

His cheek burned where her lips had brushed him, and he couldn’t help but smile, feeling like he’d just picked the winning lottery numbers.

Carolyn had the good sense to wait for the waiter to leave before leaning over to Mel and asking in a barely concealed whisper, “Honey, does he make you call him that?” While casting glances over at Langdon suspiciously. 

“Oh!” Mel squeaked, clearly embarrassed, “No! Of course not– I just… force of habit, I guess!” and began to laugh a nervous, unnatural laugh. 

It kept everything for Langdon to not literally bring his palm up to his face. Why hadn’t he said anything about it? It was like he had become so accustomed to her calling him Dr. Langdon, it didn’t cross his mind that anyone else would find it odd. 

“We work a lot!” He blurted out, then joined her in laughing, squeezing her hand under the table. Mel tentatively entwined her fingers with his, pressing her thumb insistently into his palm, as if to convey that she was right there with him. He tried to assuage himself by thinking that if Mel’s cousin’s friend thought he was a weirdo, he could probably live with that without too many consequences. 

“Oh, hm.” Carolyn replied unsatisfied, and looked the two of them up and down slowly in a way that made Frank feel like he’d forgotten to wear his pants to dinner. 

When the food finally arrived, everyone was relieved for different reasons. Langdon, because it meant maybe they could add food to their list of things to make small-talk about and avoid any more questions about HR, Mel, because she wanted something to do with her hands, Carolyn, because all of this champagne on an empty stomach was starting not to agree with her, and Aunt Irene, because she was hungry, dammit. 

Mel stared down at her meal with slight discontentment. The potatoes had no gravy on them, just like she’d requested, but the steak did look a bit disturbing to her, with a pool of red near the bottom that made her worried that she was going to cut into it and it would look completely raw. 

There were a few reasons that Mel typically avoided meat, most of them altruistic and concerning her health and the planet and things like that, but also because cutting into meat just grossed her out a little bit. It reminded her of surgery, and debridement, and slicing at people with scalpels, all things that did not gross her out, but that she did not want associated with eating in any way.  

Langdon nudged her shoulder, already chewing a mouthful of steak and potatoes. 

“You okay?” He asked, “Does it not look right?” 

Mel shook her head, “No, um, it’s just how you asked for it… it’s just…” she trailed off, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. She didn’t want to make a scene. 

“What?” 

“Cutting meat just kind of… grosses me out.” 

“Oh,” Langdon was quietly relieved he didn’t have to send the whole thing back, although he found himself thinking that he’d send it back a hundred times if that was what she wanted, “No problem, Mel, I got it.”

He took her plate and used his own steak knife to methodically slice through the meat, cutting it into neat, perfect squares while Mel watched, sitting primly beside him, flushed red up to her ears. When he was done, he lifted the knife up to his mouth and licked it clean. Mel’s eyes went as round as saucers. 

“There you go, sweetheart,” He said, and pushed the plate back towards her. 

“Thank you,” Mel managed, cheeks prickling, squirming in her seat. 

Mel, who ate like a bird on lunch breaks and who hadn’t had a steak dinner since she graduated from college and her favorite professor had given her a gift card, cleaned her plate.

“Nice job,” Langdon said when he saw her empty plate, patting her on the thigh. 

Mel sucked in a sharp breath, and then got up so abruptly she almost knocked over her shirley temple, “I’m… I’ll be right back!” she announced, and then walked towards the bathroom at a rapid clip. 

Langdon blinked with stunned horror at being left alone with Aunt Irene and Carolyn, who was still looking at Langdon like he had smuggled in something dangerous. 

After another beat, Carolyn got up too. 

“Be right back,” She said, and hurried off in the same direction that Mel had gone, leaving Langdon absolutely bereft. 

“I should, uh, probably go check—”

“Oh, no, no,” Aunt Irene said, leaning across the table towards Langdon with a drunken sway, “I want you to tell me everything about how you and Mel got together. I’ve been hounding her to lock down a doctor for years– imagine my surprise when Becca tells me she’s bringing you to the wedding! Oh, I wish my sister could’ve met you–”

In the bathroom, Mel stood by the counter, staring at herself in the mirror. She’d splashed her face with cold water in an attempt to calm down the persistent redness of her cheeks, how hot and sticky she felt between her thighs. She needed to rein it in. But what was she supposed to do? It was Frank’s fault, for being too good at this whole charade. Mel was the one messing everything up, enjoying herself far too much, obviously. Embarrassed, she hoped there wasn’t a wet spot on the seat visible when she’d stood up earlier. She felt vaguely sweaty, hands shaking with adrenaline, or with maybe the amount of Sprite she had ingested. 

She fanned herself, then jolted sharply when Carolyn walked into the bathroom. 

“Oh, hi, Carolyn,” Mel said, giving her a watery smile, grabbing for a paper towel to wipe the sink splash from her face. 

“Hi, Mel,” Carolyn replied, walking over to wash her hands in the sink and then take out her small handbag, digging for her lipstick. 

“I better, um, get back out–” 

“Just hold on a second,” Carolyn put up her hand to encourage her to pause, then leaned into the mirror to touch up her makeup, “I just wanted to talk to you for a minute.” 

“About what?” Mel instantly had a sinking feeling like she’d been called to the principal’s office. Surely, Carolyn knew everything. She had observed the way that she and Langdon interacted, and had surmised that Langdon was only her date out of pity. That she was clearly an ill-suited partner for him and that this had to be some kind of joke they were playing. 

“I just… listen,” Mel was startled when, instead of accusing her of her obvious fraud, Carolyn tenderly took her hand in her own and squeezed it, staring into her eyes in a way that made Mel go completely stiff under her touch, staring back into Carolyn’s eyes like a deer about to be ran down by a semi-truck, “Your boyfriend, making you call him doctor and everything and, like, telling you what to eat… I just want you to know that you are a strong, independent woman. I mean he was practically feeding you at the table.” 

She punctuated this by poking Mel in the chest with her other hand, and Mel could smell the champagne wafting off of her. 

“Oh!” was all Mel could get out, feeling like she was on some kind of prank show, surely someone was about to hop out of the bathroom stall with a boom mic and tell her the whole wedding was a Punk’d set.

“I saw you dress Claire’s wound and… all that shit… you’re the real deal. You don’t have to put up with that. I’m coming to you like a sister, Mel. Do you feel okay going back with him? Should I call someone?”

She stared deeply into Mel’s eyes like she was trying to see her soul. Mel shrank under her gaze, trying to think of anything that would assuage her deep concern. 

“Oh, no, Carolyn,” She finally got out, trying her best to be reassuring, “I– listen, um,” she considered for a second just telling her, telling her the whole thing: Becca’s lie to Aunt Irene, how kind Langdon had been to go along with it to keep her happy and save her any embarrassment, how they had only ever been co-workers, friends. But looking into Carolyn’s eyes, a warm brown, she couldn’t do it. 

“It’s just what, um, works for us. I like it,” She said, hoping that would sum everything up, and was surprised at how genuine the words sounded coming from her mouth. She did like not having to order her own food, and she did like when he’d cut it up for her. And even more shamefully, she liked calling him Dr. Langdon, even when he always called her Mel. 

Carolyn looked like she’d had some kind of epiphany. Her face flooded with sudden understanding and relief. She took Mel by the shoulders, which made Mel tense up again. 

“Oh!” She said, and then laughed, clutching her chest, “Oh my god! You guys are like… it’s like that movie, um,” She tapped her chin as she tried to recall the film she was thinking of, “The one where Maggie Gyllenhaal crawls around on the floor? And James Spader spanks her?”

Mel’s hand flew up to her mouth, which she covered in abject shock. She was so surprised, she couldn’t even refute her, she just stood there, dazed. 

“It’s always the quiet ones! Hey, I’m going to go outside for a cigarette, do you smoke?” 

Mel just shook her head quickly, which made Carolyn shrug in a way that said “suit yourself”, and then head out the door, her heels clicking all the way. 

Mel took a second to catch her breath, knowing that she looked twice as stricken as when she walked into the bathroom in the first place. She hugged herself tightly, wrapping her arms around herself and squeezing hard until her arms started to go numb, and then she made her way back out to the dinner table. 

She was greeted with a sight that was almost as strange as she’d experienced in the bathroom. Langdon was talking and Aunt Irene was leaned onto her elbows, nearly laying across the table, her eyes looking misty. 

“-- It was literally the most horrible day of my life. I mean, so many people died that day, absolutely senseless violence and complete chaos, so much blood on the floor people were literally slipping in it, but Mel was just… I don’t know, a force of nature. She was brave and resourceful and smart and… still, just sweet, do you know what I mean? After all that, she was just sweet. She sees the good in everyone, every thing. I’ve never met anyone like her. I don’t know if there is anyone like her. I just…” 

Quietly, Mel sat down in her seat beside Langdon, feeling like she had just overheard something that she wasn’t meant to, even if it was about her. 

Langdon stopped talking abruptly, looking almost flustered as Mel settled in next to him, as if he was calculating how much she must have heard. 

“Hi,” Mel said, smiling shyly, her heart fluttering in her chest. It was a strange feeling, how nice it felt to hear, but simultaneously, knowing that it couldn’t possibly be how he truly felt. Langdon was right, he was a really good liar. Her chest squeezed and for a moment, she was afraid she might cry, but she swallowed hard and didn’t. 

“Oh, hi,” Langdon said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck with his arm and shifting in his seat. 

He cleared his throat, “I was just, uh, telling your Aunt Irene about the day we met.” 

Aunt Irene put her hand to her chest, looking touched, “This young man,” she started, sniffing and wiping her eyes, “Is a keeper. I’m so happy for you. And I’m sorry to have hounded you all these years– I just, I hated the thought of you being so lonely after you lost your parents.” 

It was as if these things were just occurring to her, she looked tearfully over at Mel who was, for the third or fourth time tonight, stunned into silence, “I know I didn’t help you as much as I should have. It was just… it was hard, you know? I lost my sister. And you’re so much like her… I’m sorry,” she sniffed again, “I’ve had too much to drink.” 

Mel stared down at the table, blinking back tears. She felt terrible. Aunt Irene was only so happy because her and Langdon had lied to her, because they’d lied to everyone. She was lonely. So, painfully lonely that sometimes she felt like she was drowning. This was just a weekend of playing pretend. 

“Um, thank you, Aunt Irene,” she finally said, voice coming out thickly, “I’ll… I just need to step out for a minute.” 

Without a look over at Langdon, she grabbed her clutch and walked as fast as she could out of the banquet hall, breaking into a run as soon as she reached the hallway and not stopping until she was back at their hotel room, panting. 

Inside, she stripped off her nice dress and took big heaving breaths. She felt like she couldn’t get enough air, so she tried to remember her breathing exercises, calming techniques that a therapist had taught her in college. She shut herself into the bathroom and cried until she was gasping, then she ran a hot bath and sunk into it like she needed a place to hide. 

After about twenty minutes, she heard the click of the keycard against the door, and then footsteps inside. After a moment of silence, a knock came from the bathroom door. 

“Mel? You in here?” 

Mel sniffed, trying to decide what her answer was to that question. She was embarrassed that she had left. She was guilty that she had lied. She was humiliated that everyone on earth seemed to be worthy of love and that she was worthy only of playing pretend. 

“Just say that you’re here and you’re okay,” came Langdon’s voice again from the other side of the door, “And I’ll leave you alone, if you want, okay?” 

Finally, she acquiesced: “I’m here.” 

“Okay.” She heard his footsteps against the plush carpet, muffled, and then, panicked suddenly that he had turned to leave completely, she spoke up.

“Don’t leave, okay?” 

There was quiet on the other side of the door, and Mel could hear her heart thudding in her ears. 

Then, finally: “I won’t, Mel.” 

With a heavy sigh, she sunk back into the water, squeezing her eyes shut and dunking her head completely. Under the water, everything was muffled and distorted. She could pretend that she was in any place, in any bathtub. The bath at her old apartment in Illinois where the water never got hot enough, even the bath in her childhood home in Oregon, drenched in the smell of her mother’s lavender soap. 

After a bit more moping, Mel got out of the tub and slung on a bath robe that hung on the back of the door. She half considered asking Langdon to bring her some of her pajamas, but didn’t want to bother him in case he had fallen asleep. In fact, she hoped that he had, because then she wouldn’t have to face him directly. 

She dried her hair with a towel and brushed it out methodically, then slathered herself up with hotel lotion, which felt like a rare treat, as she only used the unscented kind for work. 

When she walked out of the bathroom, a bit trepidatious, she felt plain and ugly. All of the mascara on her eyelashes and the wave in her hair had been scrubbed off, and she was there, just as herself, glasses on, clean and damp. 

Langdon hadn’t fallen asleep. He sat on the bed in his button-up, looking rumpled and guilty. 

“Hey,” He said, looking like he had something he’d prepared to say, something he’d thought about for a while, but then lost the nerve, and just said, “... I’m sorry. For whatever I said that made you upset. I didn’t–”

“Oh, no,” Mel rushed to correct him, shame heavy in the pit of her stomach, “No, it wasn’t… you did great. It’s just… I mean, it’s all me. My aunt. I shouldn’t have let you come and do all of this. It’s…” she struggled for the word, wrinkled her nose, and then landed on, “It’s pathetic.” 

“No. It’s not. Mel, I didn’t–” 

“It is. And it was a ridiculous idea, and it just, um, really made clear for me the things I’m… unhappy about in my life. And I’m sorry I dragged you into this. It’s just sad. Really.” Her lower lip quivered and Langdon couldn’t help but lean towards her, crossing to the edge of the bed.

“If you don’t want to sleep here, you can drive home, if you want. I mean, I’d hate to have you out so late, but, um, I wouldn’t want to–” 

“Mel, stop.” Langdon said sharply, and Mel listened obediently, shutting her mouth and staring at him. 

There was a weighty silence, and then he finally said, “I don’t want to leave. And I don’t think you’re pathetic. I told you, I wanted to come, and I’m not going to leave you here.”

“... Okay.” Mel stammered, eyes falling to the floor. 

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap, I just… I don’t want to scare you, okay? But I need to be honest with you right now. Can I do that?” 

“Of course, Dr. Langdon. You can always tell me anything.” She said, painfully earnest, and Frank’s heart broke just a little bit at how trusting she was, looking meek and wide-eyed in her bath-robe, smelling like coconut and vanilla. 

“I was having a hard time today… “dating” you, I mean,” He could see her face fall, that she was preparing for the other shoe to drop, “I was having a hard time because I felt like I was taking advantage of you. Because when I was touching you, putting my arm around you and, y’know, showing you off, I liked it. A lot. And it made me feel guilty, because I was like… here’s this trusting, beautiful girl who thinks I’m doing this because we’re putting on some kind of show. But really, I’m doing it because I’ve always wanted to do it. And I’m basically a fucking scumbag, right?” 

Her mouth had gone slack, her cheeks glowing pink. She didn’t answer, so he kept going. 

“And I didn’t want to take advantage of you. But I also didn’t want to let you down. So, I kept going, and I shouldn’t have. I should’ve told you right away that I would only come to this wedding if I was going to be your date for real. So, I wasn’t honest, and I’m sorry, Mel. I never should have let this happen.” 

She couldn’t find the words, taking a long moment to wrap her head around what he was saying and still coming up blank. 

“If you want me to go, I will. If you never want to see me again, or you want to report me to HR for being a creep, that’s– that’s fine, I deserve it–” 

Then, she began to laugh. A real laugh, her shoulders shaking. Langdon blanched, going pale in the face. 

“Mel– Jesus– is it that funny?” 

“Oh my god!” She managed, “No– No! It’s just… I was so upset,” She felt like she couldn’t breathe, and she slid onto the floor, gasping, “I completely forgot… Carolyn! In the bathroom she… cornered me and asked me if we did BDSM, or something!” 

“What?” And then he began to laugh, too, nervous at first, and then for real, trying to picture Mel stuck in the bathroom with Carolyn while Aunt Irene had started holding his hand really hard and asking him about his intentions with Mel. 

“That’s what you were doing? While I was getting the third degree from your Aunt?” 

“I didn’t know she was going to do that!” Mel protested, still giggling. Langdon got off the bed to come sit by her on the floor, feeling stupidly overdressed in his nice wedding clothes with Mel in her fluffy hotel robe, “I promise, she has never shown any interest in me until Becca told her you were coming.” 

“Becca… she’s tricky, isn’t she?” 

“Yes. I suspect she’d been planning this for months,” She gestured to the bed in the middle of the room, “She probably had something to do with the room, too.” 

“No kidding?” 

“Yes, you should have seen what she would do in high school, always trying to set me up with boys who had never even looked at me,” She laughed breathlessly, her mood declining slightly, “It never worked, of course.” 

“Because of the headgear?” 

“Hey!” Mel smiled again, then wiped her cheeks, feeling exhausted, “Well, probably. Among other things.” 

They were quiet for a moment, the pair of them side-by-side on the floor. It suddenly felt like they were the only two people on earth, that a party wasn’t going on just downstairs. 

“Did you mean what you said?” Mel finally said, voice low and quiet, still not looking at him, eyes on the floor, “To my Aunt? About the day we met?” 

“Mel…” Langdon looked at her, even when she didn’t return the favor, “Of course I did. I’m fucking crazy about you. I went to therapy for like six months after rehab, I was supposed to be talking about what I did… my job, and everything, but all I could talk about was you.” 

“What?” Mel finally turned, eyes huge with wonder, staring at him.

“Abby used to— I’m sorry, this is… this is fucked up, but,” He took a shaky breath, deciding again to choose honesty, “We would fight about you constantly towards the end.” 

“That can’t be true,” Mel shook her head, “Don’t lie.” 

“I’m not lying, baby,” He insisted, willing her to look at him again, worried he’d gone too far, “I’m not, I swear. From the second I saw you… I mean, it was over. It was all you. I just didn’t want to scare you. I didn’t want you to go away.” 

“I…” Mel bit her lip hard, then covered her face with her hands, “Why didn’t you tell me?!” she said, anguished. 

“I thought you would be freaked out! I’m… I’m not a good guy. I’m a fuck-up. I didn’t think you’d want to get mixed up with me and all my problems, the drugs, the kids, it’s a lot!” 

“Dr. Langdon,” She looked up now, tearful, finally finally meeting his gaze, “You’re the best person I’ve ever met.” 

He felt like his chest was about to explode, heart hammering like a teenager on his first date. Suddenly she was so close to him, he could see every mole on her face, the one beneath her eye, the two on her neck, the one on her chest he could only see now in her bathrobe. 

“I like you very much,” she said.

“Good,” He said, swallowing hard, “I… I do, too.” 

“I know,” She nodded, “You just said that.” And then she leaned in and kissed him on the mouth. 

The way to the bed was slightly treacherous. When Langdon hauled her up around his waist, she leaned back onto the bedside table and nearly sent the lamp flying. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” He said in between kisses to her neck, her bare shoulder, as she struggled to right it, “It’s my card on the room.” 

“No–! I don’t want you to pay for the– mmph!” He kissed her again, which silenced her protesting, and she keened with delight and wrapped both her arms tightly around his neck, tugging him down, the lamp forgotten. 

It was convenient that she was already in a robe, all he had to do was tug at the tie around her waist for the fabric to fall away and reveal her bare, creamy skin. 

It was funny, because he’d imagined her like this many times before, but live and in person, she was better than he could have ever come up with himself. He’d never imagined the freckles that ran along her bare shoulders, the moles that flecked down her torso, her hips, her thighs. How her breasts sat full and rosy on her chest, and even still, her soft belly, which was round from dinner and drinks (that fact, he was perplexed to admit, made a rush of arousal flood straight to his dick that was so intense he almost felt dizzy). She was squirming around, cheeks flushed, and he was ashamed to admit that his mouth was literally watering. She was just cute. 

He was embarrassed to recall that with Abby, the sex had been fine until the kids, and then it had come up only during special nights when she would put on some filmy lingerie, do her hair and makeup all fancy. But Mel, sweet Mel, fresh out of the bath, her hair wet and limp hanging back against the pillow, her face bare, was the sexiest thing he had ever seen.

He propped her up against the pillows like a doll and then settled between her legs, resting his cheek against her inner thigh, her cunt inches from his mouth. She smelled amazing, clean and warm and something almost peppery that was distinctly Mel. He could feel her thighs quivering against his cheek, see her pretty eyelashes stuttering down to look at him, her enlarged pupils, mouth slightly ajar. She looked almost surprised, like she couldn’t believe he was really sat between her legs, touching her. 

Langdon didn’t want to startle her, to push her too far. Fuck, he’d never want to push her too far… but then again, he sort of did. He wondered what kind of face she would make, would she tell him to stop? What did she think about when she touched herself? What did she want him to do to her? Langdon could hardly stand it, had worked himself up before he’d even done anything to her yet. He pressed his hips into the mattress and rested his forehead against her bare thigh, letting out a muffled sound of pleasure. Mel made a sympathetic noise in response, one of her little hands tentatively resting on top of his head. 

“What do you like?” He finally asked her, one hand trailing to her waist, thumbing the soft skin there. 

She looked down at him with wide eyes, her hair a tangled mess. 

“I, um, I like this,” She said, nodding quickly, not wanting him to stop. When she didn’t say anything else after that, Langdon puffed out a breath and pressed a wet kiss to her inner thigh. She squirmed again, and he swears he can tell that his mouth against her skin had made her wet. 

“I need you to tell me exactly what you like, honey, so I can make you feel good.” 

Her cheeks burned and she covered her face with her hands. He wasn’t even touching her and she was nearly out of her mind with need. 

“I want you to take care of me,” She said, voice low and breathy, “That’s all I want.” 

He recalled dinner, how sweet and pink faced she had gotten when he had ordered for her. She’d really liked that. He raised his eyebrows, his heart thrumming a bit quicker. He had to tread lightly, he thought. He was in dangerous waters.

Literally so hard it hurt, he tried not to come in his nice dress pants like a fucking teenager, keeping his hips as still as possible while his dick ached just at the thought of Mel wanting– wanting what? Wanting him to boss her around? To make decisions for her? 

“Yes, yes,” Mel gasped, “Whatever you want!” Langdon looked up, his eyelids heavy. He hadn’t realized he had said some of that out loud. Her little hand curled into his hair and he closed his eyes, willing himself to reel it in!

He took a deep breath, hung his head, and his big hands slid back down her body. He didn’t let himself get distracted by the pretty swell of her belly, how she was so full of the dinner he’d ordered and cut up to her, basically licking the plate clean because he had told her too. Fuck.

“Okay, sweetheart,” Langdon acquiesced, his voice low and gravelly. Mel keened, her knees knocking as he held onto her thighs, “Stay still, baby. Don’t move unless I tell you to.” 

His tone was remarkably clear for how out of control he felt. To his barely concealed delight, Mel nodded, biting her red, kiss-swollen lips with the effort it was taking for her to hold still.

Once he had a handle on her, Langdon slid his hands back to her pussy. He held her open, and he can tell just by looking that she’s starving for it, puffy and dripping. His index finger teased along the edges of her folds, dipped in ever so slightly, and that was all it took for Mel’s hands to fly back up to her face and start mumbling: “Ohmygodohmygodohmy—” 

Langdon couldn’t hold back a satisfied smile before he leaned in and licked a wide stripe up her pussy, wrapping his lips around her clit for a good hard suck, moaning at the taste of her. Better than dessert. 

Of course, they left before they cut the cake. He decided right then and there that he’d go down to the kitchen and track down a slice for her, even if it took paying off the bellhop. He’d get her a big slice of cake and make her eat it all. Maybe she’d suck the icing off his fingers for good measure. 

He pulled off her clit with an audible pop, which was obscene, and Mel made a cute little squeak that he wanted to use as a ringtone. 

“You’re so fucking wet, honey, is that all for me?” He asked, and looked up at her as if he expected a response, the tip of his tongue trailing delicately around her sensitive clit. She was shaking, and peeked out from between her fingers to look at him miserably. 

“Dr. Langdon…” She whined, and she still has this look like she can’t believe this is actually happening. He laved over her pretty pussy, making a mess all over his face, slick glistening all the way up to his nose. 

“I’ve– um, I’ve been so wet all night,” She manages, and it’s almost too much to hear her say it out loud, “I could hardly sit still at dinner— that’s why I had to go, I, um,” She squeezed her eyes shut, face screwed up tight like she did sometimes at work when a loud alarm startled her, and Langdon loved her for it. 

He gave her a break, didn’t make her finish her sentence, but he was regretful that he didn’t know about this sooner, because he would have had her strip off her panties in the bathroom and give them to him for safe-keeping, tucked into the pocket of his dress pants.

He dove back in and lost track of time, not sure how long he kissed and sucked her off, holding her hips down when she got too overstimulated, squirming and writhing and begging. 

“Um!” She said suddenly, far too loudly, and Langdon hummed in response, waiting for her to spit the words out. 

“I’m so close, please, would you, um, just put in, maybe one finger– or, you don’t have to, I–” Mel blabbered, sniffling, and Langdon put his tongue back in his mouth for a minute to just rub his lips over her pussy, endlessly satisfied that he’d taken her apart like this. 

“Anything you want, Mel,” He said generously, and slid one finger in easily. She was so fucking wet, dripping down his hand to make a mess all over the sheets. Just one finger had her nearly crying, so he slid in a second just to watch her reaction, her pink mouth falling open. 

She started to tense up, squeezing his finger with her cunt, and he fucked her with it while he went back to work on her clit with his mouth, making little circles with his tongue. He doesn’t stop when she freezes, gasping loudly, her pussy clenching around his fingers (fuck, imagine that on his cock).

“Dr. Langdon,” She cried, as if he wasn’t already hard enough. He ground his hips down against the bed, desperate, as Mel came all over his face. He was going to think about this exact moment every time she called him Dr. Langdon, now, at work or otherwise. He could already tell it was going to be a problem. Some kind of complex. 

He worked her through her orgasm, not stopping until her hands were physically pushing his face off of her. Finally, he pulled back and looked at her only to find her already staring, looking shell-shocked, breasts heaving prettily as she took deep, shaky breaths. 

“Good girl,” He said with a grin, and wiped off his wet mouth with the back of his hands. Mel covered her face again, trying to cover how red she was. He sat up, climbing back up to her, his big hands encircling her wrists and pinning her down. 

“Don’t hide your face,” He chastised, and Mel nodded with effort, her brows furrowed up cutely. Inexplicably, he leaned forward to lick one of her eyebrows, not about to help himself. She squeaked in surprise, her bare leg shifting underneath him. Langdon gasped as she brushed up against his hard cock, his forehead thunking down against her shoulder. Mel froze for a moment, and then, tentatively, pressed back up against him on purpose. 

Suddenly, he was painfully aware that she was completely naked and he was wearing his fucking Sunday best. He ran his tongue along the junction of her neck and shoulder, then briefly considered biting down at the spot, but stopped when he was reminded of Pipple. 

“What about you, Dr. Langdon?” She said, her voice low and soft and lovely. Her comment could easily be taken as teasing, especially with the way she ground her knee against his cock, but since it was Mel, he knew she was being completely earnest. 

He shook his head, “I can go take care of it myself, it’s fine,” he swallowed hard, biting at the inside of his cheek. 

Mel frowned, then began to dart her eyes about the room self-consciously, “You don’t want me to?” 

Goddammit, now she was breaking his heart. He was trying to take it easy on her, not sure what her prior experience was, but instead he’d almost hurt her feelings. 

“No, no, no sweetheart, of course I do,” He assured her, “I just don’t want you to feel like you have to, or anything,” Mel pushed him off of her, looking at him from arms length. 

“I want to. Um, really bad. I want to do something, anything,” Mel said desperately, and then, because he couldn’t help himself, he kissed her again, touching her everywhere he could reach, hauling her into his lap so that Mel ended up straddling him, grinding her wet, spent pussy down against the tent in his pants, Langdon’s hands on her hips. 

“Fuck, honey, I’m–” He started, but Mel cut him off abruptly. 

“I’m sorry if this is presumptuous,” Mel said bluntly, “But I’d really like you to fuck me.”

Langdon wondered for a moment if he’d died and gone to heaven. He shook his head in an attempt to clear it, to center himself, then sucked in a deep breath, “I don’t have any condoms.” 

Mel blinked at him furiously, as if him just saying the word condom was more intimate and possibly embarrassing than anything else they had done together thus far. 

“Oh,” She finally said, looking a bit put-out, “Well…” 

She put her finger on her chin, clearly deep in thought as she attempted to come up with a solution, “... Maybe just… don’t put it in?” She suggested, tilting her head to the side, “I could use my mouth, or…” 

But a lightbulb had just gone off in Langdon’s head already, “I have an idea.” 

Grabbing her by the hips, he hauled her back down onto the bed and pulled her thighs up onto his shoulders while Mel watched carefully. Dimly, Langdon wondered what her prescription was. She wasn’t wearing her glasses. Did he look blurry to her? Was the dim room, lit only by the bathroom light, hazy in the dark?

“I’ll just, uh,” He squeezed her thighs together, pale and milky, then moved his hips against the back of them in a brief demonstration. Mel lit up immediately, then nodded in approval. 

“Oh, good idea! And you can just finish on my belly,” She said curtly, as if that wasn’t something out of Langdon’s most private, shameful fantasies. He closed his eyes for a moment, nearly overcome with desire for her. 

“That’s… that’s just what I’ll do,” He said with a nod, then went to unceremoniously unbutton his pants, shoving them down just enough to free his long-suffering erection from its confines. The front of his pants were wet from Mel grinding against them, his own boxers, also shoved out of the way, were similarly soaked with his own pre-come. 

He fingered her again, just to get his hand nice and wet, pausing briefly in awe of how easily his fingers slid inside, how sopping wet and needy she was even after she’d already come all over his face. Very carefully, very carefully, he gave himself a few pumps to slick things up. Mel was transfixed, chewing on her lip, hair strewn across the bed. 

“You’re big,” She said mournfully as she felt him against her. She wanted him inside of her so bad that it ached. 

Langdon snorted, “You’re sweet.” 

He pressed her thighs together again, then carefully began to fuck into her thighs, groaning. 

“I’m not gonna last very long, honey,” He admitted, a little shamefaced, but Mel just smiled at him sweetly in response, like a cat that’d got the cream, and Langdon, overcome by affection for her, leaned over to gently kiss her knee. He began to move his hips in earnest then, gliding wetly between her thighs. 

The position was great, something he’d always wanted to try (Abby had never liked to experiment), just the friction of her soft, sweet thighs would absolutely be enough to push him right over the edge, but even better is the way that with every thrust, Langdon’s cock slid right between Mel’s slick folds, the tip of his dick kissing her clit with every slow, dirty thrust. And Mel was gagging for it, making all of these sweet little expressions, screwing her pretty face up, biting her lip, attempting not to cover up her face with her hands like a good girl. 

Her hands clenched and unclenched the sheets as Langdon picked up the pace, Mel getting wetter every second, which made him move less precisely and more erratically. At one point, he almost slipped inside of her, the fat head of his cock pressing up against her entrance, and Mel slammed her hands down against the sheets. 

Langdon looked up from where he had been transfixed by the view of his cock sliding in and out of her thighs, grinding against her, and the way her tits bounced in-time as well, that he only noticed then that she was sniffling, tears in her eyes. 

“Dr. Langdon,” She sobbed, “Please just put it in,” and her voice was absolutely wrecked, low and hoarse, her bottom lip quivering. Langdon’s heart broke and his cock throbbed dangerously. 

Obviously, she didn’t need to tell him twice. 

Langdon gripped the base of his cock, bit his lip, and ran the head between her folds. He looked up at her again, gaze intense with need. He wanted to give her one more out. 

“Are you sure, baby?” He asked, “Are you on anything? The pill?”

Mel cringed, then shook her head no, scrunching up her nose in a way that reminded him of a rabbit. He can tell that she thinks he’s going to do the responsible thing now, to be the grown-up in charge and say no to her. Lucky for Mel (or unluckily, it depended how you looked at it), he wasn’t in the business of being responsible. Not quite yet. 

He swore under his breath and then pressed right up into her, fucking her raw. She felt so good, he could barely think. How was he the first person to notice how special she was? How was it that every man in the world didn’t constantly drop to his knees and beg for her attention? Langdon slammed inside of her to the hilt easily, there’s no resistance, her pussy wants him so badly. She clenched around him, so tight and wet and hot, thrashing underneath him. Langdon grabbed her thighs, hard enough to press bruises into her rosy skin. 

“I like it so much, oh my god, oh my god–” Mel gushed, and she was really working herself up now. Langdon almost attempted to shush her, worried about the neighboring rooms, but it was hard to concentrate because he was about to come. He rocked his hips, grinding dirty up against her cervix. 

“Do you like that, baby?” He asked, “You like to feel me raw?” And Mel nodded frantically, her hands flying everywhere, tangling up in her own hair. She had her eyes closed now, too overstimulated to look at him, flushed from the tip of her ears down to her chest, and Langdon drank in the sight of her greedily. He mouthed at her knee, pressing into her deep and slow as Mel whined and sobbed beneath him. 

He was scared to fuck her hard because he knew he was going to last all of three more thrusts before filling her up, and he wanted to make it last. So, instead, he just ground into her, really paying attention to the way she squeezed around him. Experimentally, Langdon slid a hand between her thighs, pressing his big thumb over her clit. She wailed, which made Langdon back off right away, but he couldn't help but bite back a grin.

“Too much, sweetheart?” He asked, and Mel whimpered, her hands clasped over her chest like she was praying, twisted up. Her eyes were still shut, but she shook her head just a little. 

“Just– um, a little lighter, please,” She asked, very polite, so Langdon does as she says and uses some of her slick to swirl his thumb gently around the perimeter of her clit instead of directly on it. He knew she was very sensitive to pressure. 

“You want me to, uh,” Langdon winced, because his dick was throbbing. He was so close it hurt, he took a deep breath, “Do you want me to pull out, Mel?” 

Mel’s hands unfurled and flew to grab at the wrist of the hand not playing with her clit, and her eyelids fluttered to look over at him wildly, “No no no no, please, just–” She can’t say it, which made Langdon groan, head hung low, hair flopping.

“Yeah, yeah, okay, baby,” And Mel kicked her heels on his shoulder, making a little noise like ah, ah, ah that he found so fucking hot.

“Are you gonna come for me, Mel? Are you gonna let me fill you up?” He asked lowly, feeling a little bit like hot shit to make her come twice in one night. He wanted to make her come a hundred times, as many as she could take and then one extra. He fucked into her again, and then she tightened around him, her eyes squeezing shut again like the first time, her mouth popping open, her shoulders trembling. 

It only took one more slow grind of his cock inside of her and a lucky swipe of his thumb before she came apart again, bursting into tears as she writhed on his dick. He moaned, her pussy pulsing around his cock, and that did it for him. He fucked into her one, two, three more times before filling her up, gasping her name, vision nearly blacking out. 

After a long moment with nothing filling the silence except for their heavy breathing, Langdon moved to pull out, but Mel locked her knees, holding him there. 

“Stay. Please,” She asked, looking up at him with her gooey brown eyes. Her hair had dried half-way, and it was tangled and frizzy. Fuck. He loved her. He loved her. Langdon hung his head again, biting back an embarrassing moan as his cock softened inside her. 

“You’re gonna kill me, Mel,” He said, but he did as he was told and laid down on top of her, instead, still inside. Mel’s legs folded around his hips, holding him in place, her arms slung around his neck. 

“I just like it,” she murmured simply, nosing into the crook of his neck. 

It was a while later that they finally pulled apart, sticky and sweaty and a little embarrassed. Mel ran another bath for the both of them and he braided her hair back and pinned it up so it wouldn’t get wet again. 

He washed her back and she showed him her two birth marks, a tan splotch on her lower back that looked sort of like an apple if you squinted, and a similar shape on her left arm. 

“I have two and Becca has none,” She explained, “Isn’t that weird? Becca was always sort of mad about that.” 

“Guess you stole them in the womb,” He observed with a hum, then traced them gently with his thumb, feeling privileged to have learned some new trivia about her. He would file it away in the Mel cabinet that existed in his brain, right next to all of this fresh knowledge about how she likes unprotected sex. 

Once they were out of the bath, clean, dry, and exhausted, they laid in bed together and Mel lazily flipped through the channels on the television, finally landing on some home improvement show on HGTV. She didn’t have cable at home, so this was a rare treat. Mindless reality television. 

“Are you hungry?” He asked, "Because I’m hungry.” 

“Not really,” Mel mused, watching as the rather eerie looking Property Brothers started busting down a wall to reveal some kind of hidden, mid-century modern fireplace. 

“Just say yes.” He pressed, and she looked up at him, perplexed by intrigued. 

“Um, okay. Yes. I am hungry,” Then she winked surreptitiously, like it was some kind of in-joke. 

Endlessly charmed by her, he leaned forward to kiss her one more time, and then promptly left the room in his pajamas. 

He navigated the halls in his plaid pajama pants, feeling on top of the world. He was fucking euphoric. He felt like he could have run the entire length of the B&B ten times without getting tired. He hadn’t felt like this in a long time, not since before he met Mel. 

The party had died down almost completely, the dance floor empty save for a lurking, shark-like Pipple who had finally been released from her cage and was now gleefully eating food off of abandoned plates. Langdon made a note to make a wide berth. 

He found the kitchen without much trouble, a big, industrial place, where tired looking employers were stacking up dishes. He picked the nicest looking one, a mousey young-man who kept yawning, and beckoned him over. 

“Listen, I know you’ve got some, uh, leftover cake in there, right?” 

“Well, yeah. But we already packed it up. The bride wanted… um, something about cake-pops? I’m not sure.” 

“I’ll give you $20 for a piece.”

“I’m really not supposed to—” 

“$50. Cash.” 

The man swallowed, looking behind him to see if his boss was occupied, then, finally, he shrugged. 

“Alright, man, sure. It’s just vanilla, though.” 

“Perfect. Give me a big one, okay?” 

“Alright.” 

Once the cake and cash had been exchanged, Langdon dashed back upstairs, taking the steps two at a time. 

“Cake!” He said as he swung open the door, pleased to see Mel clap delightedly, looking like an absolute vision to him in her raglan pajama top and boxer shorts. 

At his behest, she ate the whole piece, and licked the plate. 

The next morning at breakfast, Mel glowing with happiness in a gingham sun-dress and piling her plate high with melon slices, Aunt Irene leaned over and poked her on the shoulder. 

“I hope the next wedding we go to is yours, Mel,” She said with a wink. 

Frank nudged her, sharing a conspiratorial smile, “I wouldn’t be surprised.” He said, and Mel flushed with pleasure.