Work Text:
The first time is an accident.
It’s just a broken nose — they’ve both dealt with so many of these that it feels like a reflex when they get the CT and x-ray back; sitting the patient up, talking them through the process. Frank is already at the computer finishing up the report while Mel tries to reassure the 21-year-old in hysterics that it’ll be okay, it’ll only hurt for a second, the bruising will fade in a week or so, etc. The voice she’s using is usually reserved for little kids — it seems to be helping the girl, though, and Frank can’t ignore that it makes his blood feel like syrup, sending it directly where it shouldn’t be. At work of all places.
“It’s like stubbing your toe, just, uh… a little worse?” Mel throws Frank a strained look over her shoulder, so he swivels to stand next to her.
“She’s right,” he confirms, and the stars in her eyes would keep him alive for months without food, “it’s gonna hurt for a second, not even ‘cause of the anesthetic, and then bam! Done. Your mom can hold your hand, if you’d like.” He gestures to the middle-aged woman to his right who’s fluttering anxiously.
The girl reaches for her mother’s hand; both their knuckles go white from gripping each other too tightly.
Frank smiles encouragingly, maneuvering to Mel’s other side. He leans in, voice steady and low. “You’ve got this, yeah? Fingers on both sides, just like that.” He reaches around her to adjust her positioning even though he really doesn’t have to — Mel is always perfect, but he knows she likes the assurance. “Mhm. And then—” He feels her fingers move on their own beneath his, shifting bones back into place, quick and efficient and perfect as always and fuck, she’s so hot. “Nicely done.”
He can’t help but watch the side of her face. The set line of her brow, her lower lip tucked tightly between her teeth, the squint in her eyes. It all loosens — relaxes to elation — when she finishes, stepping back with a proud smile. Frank, unfortunately and because he wants nothing more than to bask in the glow of success, has to step further away and position himself at the computer again. Hoping to hide how tight his scrubs have suddenly gotten. He isn’t sure when he developed a kink for seeing Mel succeed at doing something, but it’s making his job (and other things) a lot harder than it should be.
How is he supposed to teach her if all he can think about is bending her over to reward her for a job well done?
From his periphery, he watches Mel pack the girl’s nose and splint it, talking about proper care and what to expect as it heals. It might just be his imagination and the throbbing between his own legs, but he swears he sees her squeeze her thighs together. Her cheeks are a shade pinker than her usual flush during a busy day. She steps away, discarding her gloves, and stands beside the computer with her hands folded politely in front of her.
“Was that okay?” she asks. Her voice is soft and eager, and he lets his eyes slide to her face to see an expression of unmitigated need. Even if she’s perfect every time, she wants his approval. How could he deny her that?
“It was perfect, Mel,” he laughs, closing out of the patient’s file and facing her. “Always is.”
She shrugs, bashful. The tips of her ears are rosy and he resists the temptation to reach out and drag his thumb over one just to feel the heat. Head tilted, she shifts a little, eyebrows flickering as she says, “I, uh… I need a little bit of air — I’ll be back in five?”
“Mhm.”
Frank lets himself watch her walk away (his own kind of reward), eyes skimming her outfit choice. Typical scrubs, pale blue sneakers with a matching quarter-length sleeve shirt, black glasses frames, nothing unusual there. Today, though, her braid is loose, a little more stylish, and he sees the free strands sticking to the back of her neck and hanging in her face. It looks good, but she always looks good. And he really, really shouldn’t be thinking about how good she looks considering he’s her boss, technically, and he’s fucking married with kids.
After July 4th, riding the high of pushing back against Robby and hearing Mel emphasize her want to have him around, things with Abby got better. They talked — openly, confidently — and whatever attitude he had been wearing that night earned him sex for the first time in over a year; he’d been sure Abby was more than halfway out the door when it came to him, so fucking her on their dining room table had come as a complete surprise. Since then, things have only gone up. Their marriage is good, the kids are good, and while their sex life is a little boring, they haven’t died completely below the belt, so he considers that a success. Hell, they’ve even started to binge Breaking Bad (which has been on their ‘to watch’ list for so damn long) when Frank gets home from work.
The complication, of course, is Mel and the hospital. Plus Frank’s own issues, ever-present even with sobriety because bad days still plague him and he is human, after all. And getting clean has left him itchy. Wanting. So he chases thrills — takes cases that are tricky or risky, always enlists the help of Mel who is oh so eager to learn from him — and satiates the need with whatever adrenaline he can.
Smoothing his hair, he wanders to Central and stares up at the board, looking for their next case because Mel will inevitably join him on it. There’s no shortage of broken bones due to summer activities and heat exhaustion runs rampant, so there’s nothing overly exciting. He takes a potential wrist fracture in North 4 and keeps his eyes open just in case something does pop up.
The fracture ends up being a sprain. The patient is a 43 year old who tripped while putting together a crib for his daughter, and he chats about having a grandchild the entire time Frank is working on him. Frank doesn’t really mind — he’s more focused on keeping the guy’s hand still long enough to actually put a wrist brace on him. When there’s finally a lull in the patient’s rambling, Frank slips in care instructions and excuses himself while he has the chance, not wanting to be stuck there longer than he needs and realizing that Mel has been MIA for longer than the five minutes she had claimed.
Not that he times her or anything — she just always seems to gravitate back to him when there’s nothing else holding her attention.
At the north nurse’s station, he braces his elbows on the counter to catch Princess’ attention. “You seen Mel anywhere? She said she was getting some air but…”
Princess glances up from the computer, shoulders lifting noncommittally. “I think I saw her head towards the showers?”
“Yeah,” Whitaker chirps as he slips behind the desk, “she seemed kinda out of it. Was doing that squinty thing she does when she’s thinking too hard about something.”
“Hm. Thanks.” Frank shoves off the counter and begins the trek towards the showers. He’d completely forgotten they had any, actually — the last time he’d used them was when he first started at PTMC and had an unfortunate soon-to-be mom hurl on him as he was actively on his way out of the hospital. Robby had laughed so hard his face turned scarlet, and he’d directed Frank to the shower room buried behind too many twists and turns in a commonly quiet hallway. Frank has made it a point to be outside the splash zone since then.
Why Mel would be going there is beyond him because they haven’t had any gross or messy cases all morning.
He meanders down the long, empty hallways, hands tucked into his scrub pants and head tilted back, his mind a collage of things he needs to do when he gets home and images of Mel’s hands expertly setting a broken nose. It’s a contradictory set of thoughts — family life vs work. Whenever possible he tries to leave them in their designated spaces, for sake of ease and keeping his conscience clear. He sure as shit wouldn’t be able to support Mel as well as she likes if he’s always thinking about Abby.
Maybe that says something, he thinks, though he doesn’t care to examine it further.
As he’s rounding the corner into the shower room, he hears the water running and pauses, eyebrows lifting curiously. Did she get something in her hair? he wonders, slipping around the final wall to face a corridor of shower stalls. At the far end, in the corner, he sees one of the showers running and starts towards it. They have curtains, after all, so it’s not like he’ll catch her naked or whatever.
His jaw works for a moment, trying to think of something witty to say to announce his presence, when a sound echoes off the tiles and makes him freeze.
“Oh, ah—” Soft, breathy, strained. A moan that sounds far too similar to Mel when she accidentally bumps into something, almost apologetic. Guilty.
Frank’s pulse is in his ears. His fingertips feel like static as he forces himself forward, quietly, and peeks at the stall with the water running only to find it’s empty. That’s when he notices the second to last stall in the row with the curtain haphazardly shut.
“Fuck.” This one is closer, and his head swivels.
Maybe it’s against his better judgement, and maybe he should know — at his age — when to leave something alone, but he’s not a cat so curiosity can’t really get to him, now can it? Tentatively, he reaches out to the curtain drawn across the stall, pushing the material aside slowly.
Oh, fuck, it’s definitely Mel.
Head tipped back, eyes shut and mouth agape, Dr. Mel King has her hand down the front of her scrub pants. Her glasses are askew, barely perched on the end of her nose, and the flush that covers her face and neck is the same pretty pink her ears had been earlier. Even with the splashing of the water in the stall next to them, Frank can hear how wet she is as her fingers squirm against herself. Presumably under her panties — he’s not close enough to confirm, but he doesn’t need to be to know that he’s hard again.
Frank can’t help the smile that curls across his face, his hand dropping to settle in his pocket again as he says, “Busy, Dr. King?”
She yelps. Her eyes snap open, her face deepens to a rich red, and her hand stills, chest heaving as she tries to catch her breath. “D-Dr. Langdon, I was just—You–”
“Uh-huh.” It’s condescending, he knows that. He can’t help it. “Don’t stop on my account — I was enjoying the show.” He shifts past the curtain, in the stall with her now, and lets his eyes freely travel down her arm to where her hand is hidden. “Do you need assistance, Dr. King?”
“I wasn’t—I was just—Huh?” Her voice is squeaky and breathless, eyes wide like when he’s telling her something important.
Slowly, he reaches out, tucking some hair behind her ear. “I’m asking if you need help, Mel — I don’t mind, if it means we get back to work and you aren’t so…” His lips twitch as he tries to bite back a shit-eating grin.
There’s a beat, Mel’s eyes boring into his own, before she withdraws her hand and he glances at her fingers to see them glistening; whatever mess is between her legs can’t be comfortable, and he finds himself musing about if she’ll have to go through the rest of the shift with damp panties as he takes her wrist and brings the wet fingers to his mouth, wrapping his tongue around them. Mel is completely still, lips parted and lashes fluttering, her pulse hard and fast against his grip on her hand. She tastes like salt with an undertone of hand sanitizer, which is to be expected, and he releases her fingers from his lips.
“I’ll help,” he murmurs, free hand inching the bottom of her shirt up so he can sneak his own fingers past the waistband of her pants, “but you have to be quiet and do what I say, okay? I’d love to hear those pretty sounds you were making, I just don’t want either of us to get fired. Hm?”
Mel nods quickly, the hand now covered in his spit clamping over her mouth as she stares at him. Her hips cant forwards into his touch when he slides a single knuckle over the damp fabric of her panties, not giving her enough pressure to satisfy but definitely confirming his suspicions of her being completely soaked. Heat radiates onto his hand, her thighs fall apart a little further, a hefty breath coming out her nose, and he drags his fingertips over the slippery material again. His eyes never leave her face, watching the way her eyebrows pitch upwards.
He laughs, shaking his head. “You can always ask for help, Mel — you know I give it freely.”
From between her fingers, he hears her say, “This is different,” and she sounds so sweet and so embarrassed. He feels his cock twitch inside his briefs.
“Is it?” Pointedly, he eases her panties aside, two fingers slipping along the slick coating her folds. “‘Cause, as far as I’m concerned, I’m just assisting my resident, right?” The pads of his fingers circle Mel’s clit and her hips buck harshly. Frank relishes in the way her muscles clench beneath his touch.
Fuck, she’s perfect.
“I-I—ah, Dr. Langdon, that’s—“ Her head falls back against the wall with a soft thunk, both hands now closed over her mouth.
He flicks a finger up against her clit before dragging it down to her entrance which is still leaking. There’s no resistance when he eases it inside, slow and steady, feeling the way her walls flutter around one singular finger; she gasps when he presses a second one in as well. Her greedy cunt welcomes the intrusion, and her thighs tremble around his hand
“That’s what, Dr. King? Use your words. Explain.”
A whine escapes her when he curls his fingers. “Good. It-It’s good, really good.”
Frank makes a point to press the heel of his hand against her clit so she can grind on it in return, only forcing his fingers deeper as soft, choked noises slip out of her. He doesn’t move with any haste, choosing instead to pump his fingers slowly, taking time to scissor them and drag them along the softness of her walls, making her whole body shiver against him.
He hasn’t been with anyone other than his wife since they’d gotten married (hurray for him, he’s a saint), and that was over five years ago. Having Mel like this, so fragile and desperate in his arms, is fucking intoxicating. The last time he had his wife this wound up it led to Penny being born.
Their newly rekindled sex-life isn’t exciting. Missionary most nights, maybe cowgirl if Frank mentions his back being sore, but more often than not it’s over pretty quickly and without much fanfare. It’s good, don’t get him wrong, but this? Mel? Fuck — this might be the hardest he’s ever been.
“How long have you been like this, huh?” Frank brushes hair over her shoulder, cupping Mel’s jaw when she tries to tuck her face into her hands.
Her lip wobbles a little when she opens her mouth. “All—ah—morning.”
He clicks his tongue, pressing his hand against her cunt harder, drinking in the way her eyes roll back. She’s practically on her tip toes now, being driven up the wall literally. “What could have possibly made you such a mess, Dr. King? You have a patient who flirted a little too much? You think about something?” He twists his hand just a touch, pressing further into her, slick practically dripping out from around his fingers.
“You.” One of her hands grips the forearm of the hand in her pants, nailing biting into his skin. “O-Oh, fuck, Dr. Langdon — I’m so—I’m gonna—“
“Me?” It’s a taunt, said low and coaxing. “I’m flattered, but I’m married.”
“Ahah—“ Mel slaps her other hand onto his chest, fisting his shirt. “Oh!”
Frank keeps her pressed to the wall, keeping her upright as her body quakes. Around his fingers, her pussy pulses and clenches while her hips rut wildly. There’s a new flood of fluid that spills out of her, accompanied by one long, keening sound coming from the back of her throat like it’s being forced out. He watches her face intently — basks in the way she seems to go through every single stage of grief as her orgasm rips through her and, eventually, fades away, leaving her twitching and practically boneless. Never in a million years did he think he would be the one giving Mel King an orgasm that made her weak in the knees, but life could apparently still surprise him.
Easing his fingers out of her cunt — which is met with a pathetic sound of disappointment — he holds her hip to keep her steady. “Well then,” he breathes, and holds his hand up to see just how wet it is, “you made a mess.”
“Sorry.” She sounds wrecked as she braces her hands against his biceps and tries to stand up straight.
“It’s fine. Open.”
Mel opens her mouth and accepts his fingers, tongue lapping at his skin eagerly, her own juices smearing across her mouth and cheeks. She doesn’t seem to really mind, holding Frank’s gaze the entire time. When he pulls his hand away, wiping her spit on his scrub pants, he uses his clean thumb to wipe up the mess around her mouth. She lets him.
“You ready to get back into things?” he asks, finally releasing her waist and stepping away. Mostly for his own sanity because his dick is still hard, twitching eagerly against his thigh — any prolonged contact with her seems to just make it worse.
“Yeah. Y-Yes, I’m—I’m good, I think. Thank you.” Shifting on her feet, she nudges her glasses back into place and smoothes her clothes. “Are you—Are we good?”
He smiles widely. “We’re great, Mel — get back up there. There’s a burn in South 16, I’ll meet you there.”
Mel nods, slipping past him. He listens to her quick footsteps disappear into the distance as he leans back against the tiled wall, rubbing a hand down his face.
Okay, sure — he definitely just overstepped with someone he’s technically in charge of. And, yes, this would count as cheating on his wife, probably. But… given how good he is at keeping his work life separate from his home life, he can just explain this away as being a Dr. Langdon thing, right? Dr. Langdon is the flirty one, the one who winks at patients and offers a charming smile. Dr. Langdon could also be the one who makes his coworkers come.
It sounds like bullshit. Complete and utter bullshit. Abby would definitely throw his ass on the curb if she found out, and he knows that it makes him a shitty person when he doesn’t find it in him to be guilty right now. It doesn’t stop him from slipping his hand into his pants and palming himself, chasing some sort of relief. His eyes close, he rests his head back on the wall, and he replays every single sound Mel made while he’d been inside her as he strokes his cock. Maybe it hadn’t been in the way he’s now fantasizing about — it was still good. She’d been warm and tight and needy, so fucking needy, and he’s always been the kind of guy to help a person in need, so…
Thumb hitched into his waistband, Frank clenches his jaw and huffs, the tension in his stomach tightening; he drags his thumb over the head of his dick, precum slipping against his skin, and lets out a shuddering moan as he spills into his hand, hips jumping unevenly. Figures he would come so quickly after being so wound up all morning.
After thoroughly washing his hands and adjusting his scrubs, he makes his way back to the ED. Mel is situated in South 16, intent on tending to a burn via a campfire skillet, but her eyes flit to him and she smiles softly, brightening even more when he smiles back and slips into the room.
It was a one time thing. Pure happenstance. An accident. Everyone is weak sometimes — he won’t let it happen again.