@kingdonmacrofic • Day 17: Maze • 641/285 • Rated: E

CW: Infidelity, Age Gap, Fingering, Dubcon

standalone but it's set in the same universe as day 4 and day 5

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The first time Langdon kisses Mel, he takes note of her pelvis bucking up to meet his. They're locked in a supply closet.

Once caught, she jumps to apologize. Her stream of conscious becomes a blubbering mess explaining she had never done such a thing or wanted to, especially during a work hours, it's really so out of character, she's usually such a good girl, everybody would tell her so–

"Is that what you think you are, Melissa?"

Mel's rambling halts. Eyes wide at the insinuation she is anything but. Still, she nods.

Langdon narrows his eyes. Not that he doesn't believe her, he wishes to test her claim. Good girl implies she's loyal, clinging to his side, operating on praise, taking rewards and retribution eagerly—like a puppy. The kind of girl he'd drop in a maze to see if she'd run to his embrace from scent alone.

Good girl, he scoffs thinking about it. If she would like to make high claims, she wouldn't mind them tested, would she?

Her only saving grace is his index finger languidly trailing from her lips, between her breasts, over her abdominal plane (two, five, eight, he whispered), and settled on the edge of her waistband. He tapped thrice.

When Mel responds with a hiccup and a shaky we can't right now, he slips a hand in. He dips a finger through her panties, gathering wetness on the fabric. "If you're such a good girl, tell me to quit."

Their proximity does her no favours. Langdon's lips hover over her, momentarily, as his fingers push aside the fabric and trace her entrance. She's new to this, he can tell.

Sometimes he wishes she worked in the ER instead of pushing pencils upstairs. Though, she spends enough time trailing him anyway.

"Sweet that you think I won't take it right here. Jesus, does Gloria know her little intern spends her day in the ER like this, or should I shoot her an email?"

There's a whimper when he pushes a finger in. One he'll file away for quieter, lonelier nights.

Dr. Lang–

"Listen, sweetheart, you can walk away if you can tell me to stop playing with your cunt. One word, that's it."

There's no protest. Mel moans when he adds a second finger and even grinds on the heel of his hand. He feels the bundle of nerves, soft on his hand, chasing friction. Good girls don't lose their virginities in supply closets, he's sure to save hers for his marital bed.

For now, he settles for three fingers pumping fervently, stretching her for the first time. That's too many, sir.

Sir? Christ, she's adorable.

"Tell me to stop then, sweetheart."

That elicits a breathy moan. Langdon revels in it, flies this one away with the rest.

Should he record her?

Just as the thought hits, so does her orgasm. Unable to keep it at bay, Mel quivers around his hand.

One sweetheart is all it takes. He wonders if there are other pet names that might do her in faster. Baby, sugar, angel, pumpkin. Another thought for another day.

Delirious, she asks if she's meant to feel lightheaded. Langdon frees his hand from her shorts, sucking his fingers clean. With his free hand, Langdon tucks a wet strand behind her ear. The July heat finally catching up to her.

There's reason this sort of act happens horizontally. Mel deserves to throw her head on a pillow or curl under his arm after exerting herself.

"Mel, you okay?"

"Uh-huh, just a tad exhausted," she replies, still giddy. "Maybe I should head upstairs soon, I've been gone all morning."

Patting her braid back in place, Mel leans up to kiss cheek, then his lips, offering a soft thank you before heading out.

Bucket List :)

• have my first kiss

• orgasm via fingers (not my own)

@kingdonmicrofic day 17: maze | 285/285 | rating: g

Up on the sixth floor, there’s a beautiful window. Massive technically — stretching almost to the ceiling, framed by an alcove carved deep enough to sit in. A wildflower mural faces it, colors soft from sun, and a wooden bench sits beneath it. It’s peaceful, tucked behind an extended-stay wing. Anyone could find it easily if they took the back stairwell, forgoing the maze-like journey from the main elevators.

Mel found it by complete accident. Hectic day, she needed something from the ICU, her mind half a floor ahead of her feet. She didn’t notice she’d climbed too far until she stood alone in that hallway in all its quiet stillness. It made her forget why she came upstairs.

By now, it’s her spot. 

A year slips by, framed in the panes of that window. After the worst shifts, she watches the skyline flicker, knees tucked to her chest. She watches the first snowflakes dust over Pittsburgh. She rings in the New Year six stories up, staring down at her coworkers in the snow-covered park, wishing for someone to look up and realize they forgot her. Same with the shimmering fireworks.

But, no one’s ever found her up there.

Which is why the familiar voice startles her.

“Wondered where you run off to.”

Of course, he noticed. He always notices. For the first time in a long time, she feels found.

Frank motions for her to scoot over and she shifts, making room. Their legs knock together in the narrow space, but the proximity is comforting. The quiet hallway soon echoes with their laughter. Something loosens in her chest; that spark dances in his eyes again.

She thinks maybe in that moment, it becomes their spot.

for @kingdonmicrofic | day 29: soup | words: 269

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Frank doesn’t care for food. Even as a kid, he doesn’t recall having any particular food that he was big on.

To him, it’s merely a means of survival. Like a task, really, to put something in your mouth just so the body gets the nutrients it needs. He knows this about himself for certain by now, having gone through med school and rehab and a divorce. 

And so, when Frank finds himself one night actually craving something, he is somewhat taken aback. A warm bowl of chicken noodle soup, from a local restaurant near Mel’s neighborhood. 

He could imagine himself dipping a spoonful into the bowl, blowing on it to cool it down, and finally sipping - the warmth of it spreading down his whole mouth and body and mind, listening to Mel’s chatter as he eats. 

When Mel’s excited about something she’d talk and talk and forget to take another bite, so he has to nudge her bowl to remind her that they’re supposed to be eating.

She’d smile sheepishly and continue eating, so he’d take the turn and tell her what he thinks about the topic she’d brought up to the table. 

He’d try to throw in some corny jokes she’s learned to love over the course of their friendship, timing it right so she’d laugh at the same time as she tries to blow on the hot steam of the soup, splattering it just a little bit as her smile widens. He’d tease her about her pink cheeks and the steam fogging up her glasses and the way she– 

Ohhhhh. 

It’s not the soup that he wants.

day 23: maroon

@kingdonmicrofic | 441/134 | rated g | ao3

Frank didn’t have enough digits on his hands or feet to count how many times Mel had left him breathless just from her presence. He would have to borrow the hands of most of their coworkers and even then it wouldn’t come close to the actual number.

Day 29: soup

@kingdonmicrofic | Mel King/Frank Langdon | rating: G | wc: 368

Getting ill during cold and flu season is practically a rite passage for emergency medicine physicians. Despite precautions and protocols, inevitably your immune system will be no match for the various illnesses cycling through the walls of The Pitt.

Mel makes it all the way until mid-February before she’s forced to call out sick due to a nasty fever and head cold. When she wakes up feeling rundown, she notifies the hospital before checking with Becca’s center to make sure her sister can stay for a couple nights (Becca dislikes being around sick people because it reminds her too much of their mom). With her sister squared away, Mel puts together an InstaCart order and texts Frank that she doesn’t need a ride to work, before crawling under a mound of blankets and going back to sleep.

Hours later, she wakes to the sound of a cabinet door shutting forcefully. Dragging herself into the kitchen, she sees Frank stirring something on the stove.

“Whaaaa?” she asks groggily.

“Hey sleepyhead,” Frank smiles at her. “Your groceries got delivered 30 minutes ago. I put most of it away, but I thought you might like the soup for lunch.”

“We had a shift,” she says, confused.

“I heard you were sick when I got to the hospital (why didn’t you tell me?) so I asked Samira if she’d be willing to work a double. Thankfully she’s an EM junkie so it didn’t take much convincing.”

“You didn’t have to do that. It’s just a cold. I can handle it.”

Frank turns away from the stove to face her more fully. “Sweetheart, you’re not feeling well. I want to take care of you.”

Mel’s thoughts seem as if they’re moving through molasses. Frank got someone to cover his shift just to come over and check on her? He put away her groceries and started on lunch? When was the last time someone had done all of that for her?

“No one’s made me soup since my mom passed,” she says slowly.

Frank looks at her softly. “C’mere,” he gestures widely with his free arm.

“I’ll get you sick.”

“Worth it,” he says, roping his arm around her and kissing her clammy forehead.

The email doesn’t even register to her beyond We are pleased to inform you, she can only pick up the words Frank reads against her head. She only realizes he finished reading when he shouts out in joy, picking her from the couch and spinning her.

His laughter almost contagious as he repeats his congratulations all the while she’s kicking out trying to get him to put her down, until he does stop spinning but doesn’t put her down.

“Not every day do you get accepted into a Pediatric Emergency Medicine Fellowship, Doctor King, come on! We have to celebrate, let’s go out to dinner. Whatever you want.”

“Let’s stay in, Becca’s staying here at home tonight.”

“Of course. Whatever you want.” Frank emphasizes, kissing her deeply for a moment, and then proceeding to kiss all over her face as he drops her back on the couch to grab his phone and searches where to order from.

Her mind rushes with the news slowly starting to settle in her brain, she’d been accepted, she’d actually start in her fellowship in a few months. It felt like her body couldn’t yet give into excitement as it settled into something more nostalgic instead.

As Frank scrolls through restaurant options, Mel lays her head on his shoulder.

“Did I ever tell you what my mom used to do when I did well on an exam?”

“Don’t think so.”

“It was the last couple years she was alive, back in college. I would come back home acing a final, or with a good grade in some class and she’d buy some instant ramen cups with some Coke for all us, and we’d celebrate.”

Mel had been a bit miffed the first time, she was a college student and ate ramen all the time, so she hadn’t seen much of a celebration to it.

Her mom claimed it was to remind herself of her college days and give Becca a taste of it as well.

“She’d always joke that the amount of salt and the amount of sugar counteracted each other, and I always told her it didn’t work that way. But she always said it to make Becca laugh.”

Mom acted like they were all sharing a dorm. She’d put on a movie, make popcorn, and catch up on gossip as Mel brought home from school.

“After she died, it was hard to keep it going. Mom made it a whole event, when I did it… it was just felt like soup and a soda.” She shrugs.

Frank kisses the side of her head, and stands up from the couch “Just some soup and soda, till now. Where do we order some?”

“We always ate the instant kind.”

“Got it.” Frank stands, putting on his jacket and kissing her before going to grocery store a few blocks away, buying four packs of ramen and four cans of Coke, so her mom was still a part of it all.

@kingdonmicrofic nov 28 prompt: coffee rated g 136 words

She thought she’d remember everything about him: the smell of the cologne he wore off-shift, the particular length of the hair on his knuckles, the way he’d always jump over the last three stairs from the landing, swinging around with one hand firm on the banister. Her brain chemistry convinced her she would learn him inside and out better than Abby ever had, and that knowledge would be the foundation for something life-long.

But when she flips the calendar to December, it takes her a second to recognize his handwriting scrawled over a faded coffee ring. She struggles to conjure the image of him last fall, filling out important dates in an effort to counter his ADHD. The curse of brain plasticity; she’s already used to him being gone.

Happy second anniversary! I love you ♡

for @kingdonmicrofic | day 28: coffee | words: 119 tags: med students au, mentions of food

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It’s finals week, so Mel and Frank were already on their third cup of coffee while they study and munching on their favorite blueberry muffin from the cafe. 

Hours pass and muffins all gone, so Frank gets up to get more. That’s when he sees it. 

There’s only one blueberry muffin left. 

Sure, they can share. But he knows his best friend. Tired-Mel always craves moist, fluffy food. He decides on the most logical thing to do: buy and eat it secretly.  

“Frank? What are you doing?” 

“Nothing?”

She tries snatching the muffin and Frank licks the whole top. 

“Ugh– Seriously? Give it!”

“Gross, really? Human mouths are filthy, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah. Like we haven’t exchanged salivas before.” 

for @kingdonmicrofic | day 27: family | words: 268

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Mel had forgotten what it felt like to be loved these past few years. 

The only family she has left is Becca, and though they have an abundance of sisterly love enough for one another, she longs for the affection she had once received from their parents before.

She missed the way it felt, to be someone’s daughter, to be loved and taken care of, just for being who she is. 

To have her hair be gently brushed by mom after she showered, or to have her purple water bottle filled up and ready to go before school every day without fail by dad – these were the kind of love that she knew. Quiet, calm, steady. 

That is until Frank Langdon came into her life.

When they kissed for the first time, it was torturous, messy, desperate. He’d brought her hand over where his heart was – and breathlessly asked, “Mel, do you see what you do to me?”

After that, it’s almost like he couldn’t stop. 

He’d kiss her everywhere he can reach. The tip of her nose, the little mole on the sensitive part of her neck, the curve by her hip, the dimples down her back. 

He would take his time, every trail of breath and tongue followed by whispered praises as he went. You’re so beautiful, Mel. Being such a good girl for me. I wish I could kiss you forever, baby. 

It’s almost overwhelming now, how much Mel feels so loved by him. Frank, who expresses his affection so fiercely, who loves so openly. Who reassures her, comforts her, takes care of her. Her family.

Day 28: coffee

For @kingdonmicrofic | Mel King/Frank Langdon | rating: G | wc: 119

Everyone has their vice.

Dana? Cigarettes.

Shen? Dunkin iced coffee.

Robby? Masochism.

Post-rehab, Frank’s vice is Mel. A whiff of her eucalyptus shampoo or the sandalwood scent of her special laundry detergent is a high like he’s never experienced before.

At first, he felt guilty. Was he monopolizing Mel at work? Would it be better for her career if he stayed away? But whenever he’d halfheartedly attempt to distance himself, Mel would pull him back in, asking for a second opinion, or an extra set of hands. She was the sun, and he was Jupiter, helpless against her gravitational pull.

These days, Frank leans into the addiction. There’s nowhere he’d rather be than in her arms, snug in bed.

for @kingdonmicrofic | day 26: flannel | words: 330

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The first time Mel saw Frank out of his work clothes, he was wearing a plain white T-shirt paired with some worn blue jeans. 

She remembered how the fabric stretched over his shoulders and how the jeans had snugly wrapped around his thighs.

How he had tapped his fingers rapidly on the denim, something he always does to calm his nerves, and how the stark contrast between the glimmering gold of his ring against the Levi’s blue indigo made Mel feel sick in the stomach. 

She just couldn’t understand how someone could look so beautiful even in the simplest clothing. There was something so captivating about it, about him being just Frank instead of the skilled, professional Dr. Langdon. Like there’s a whole part of his life where Mel can’t go, can’t reach, can’t touch. 

With her heart racing against her ribs and nothing she could do about it, she had decided that staring at his shoe laces will do for now. She’d figure the rest later. 

Unfortunately for her, the second time she sees him out of scrubs comes too soon, and she still hasn’t figured it out.

How the strands of his hair can fall so perfectly over his ocean blue eyes, or how the mere buttons of his flannel shirt can be so mesmerizing just to look at. 

Frank is talking about how Abby wanted to go up north for the weekend with the kids as Mel watches how his lips form the words and how his hands fiddled his bracelet. She nods once in a while to keep it polite. 

She thinks that if he turns around and stands there just long enough, close enough, she might see if she can play some kind of unlimited game of Wordle over the plaid pattern of his shirt. 

F-R-A-N-K / B-R-O-A-D / C-R-U-S-H / H-O-N-E-Y

“Sorry?”

Shit. Mel must’ve accidentally said the last one out loud. “Nothing, sorry. What’d you say about Abby’s new hobby?” 

Good thing the two words rhymed.

Day 27: family

For @kingdonmicrofic | Mel King/Frank Langdon | rating: G | wc: 268

Mel is pretty open about her personal life, at least when it comes to her sister, but she doesn’t talk about her parents that often. It’s not because it’s too hard or upsetting, but because she’s noticed it makes other people uncomfortable when they find out she and Becca are technically orphans.

Every so often, Mel wonders why more people don’t ask. Don’t they think it’s weird that she’s so involved in Becca’s care? Maybe they assume her family defers to her because she’s a medical professional? Or maybe they believe Mel and Becca aren’t close with their parents? There certainly appears to be plenty of people in The Pitt with complicated family situations.

Frank’s situation seems pretty complicated these days. He was served divorce papers at work a couple months back, and recently moved out of his house. She overhears him talking to Cassie about Thanksgiving: apparently Abby wants to take the kids to visit her sister in Buffalo, so he’s working the holiday shift because he’d rather be in the ED than be alone. Mel is working Thanksgiving too (the extra holiday pay is nice, and she doesn’t really like turkey anyways) so she starts hatching a plan.

It’s not much of a scheme. She really likes working with Frank — he’s very knowledgeable, and she feels uniquely comfortable with him — and she wants their friendship to go beyond the hospital walls. So on a Friday night she invites him to post-shift dinner and movie night with Becca. If she’s going to persuade him to spend the night on Thanksgiving, she needs to lay the groundwork now

day twenty-seven: family

for @kingdonmicrofic challenge ♥️

tags: mel king/frank langdon; teen; familial deaths; canonical character death; minor character death (becca); angst; grief

word count: 268

Family is a mystery to Mel. 

She used to have a clear understanding of it. Irrefutable facts. She had a father who loved bowling, rock music and the bottom of a bottle, but not as much as he loved her. She had a mother who knew how to sew, played the piano every single Christmas and didn’t fight her cancer beautifully or valiantly, but she did fight. She had a twin sister who could never get enough of Elf, teasing Mel or tropical fish. She had a family.

Even if these days it feels like she didn’t. 

When Frank kisses her for the first time, nine and a half months after his divorce, she isn’t sure what will come of it. He’s still a mess, and she’s an even bigger one after losing Becca the day he returned to PTMC. But when his mouth touches hers, she doesn’t feel shattered. She doesn’t feel whole, either. That’s impossible after everyone she’s buried. She does feel.

It’s more than she has since Becca died at the place where she still works. It’s a good job, people don’t resent her and, most of all, Frank is there. 

He might love her. 

They kiss and touch for three months before he asks her if she wants to meet Tanner and Em. If she wasn’t falling for him, she’d say no. He would understand, too. He always does when it comes to her, something he’s told her is a first for him. A terrifying one.

But when she says yes to him, to his family, he grins so wide it hurts them both. 

“We, uh, could have a girl.”

“You want a girl?”

“Yeah… with your eyes, and my hair.”

“I love your eyes.”

“Nah, blue is boring, and your eyes literally change colors.”

“Untrue, but I’ve got a tie-break. I am a twin, so…”

“Even better. Two girls. One with your eyes and my hair, and one with your hair and my eyes. God. We wouldn’t be able to leave the house, people would try to get them into commercials, baby models for expensive clothes, birthing scenes in hospital dramas.”

“Never. …We’d have to move to a bigger house, so we’d have space for Becca, Tanner and Isaac, and the girls.”

“They’re all going to want rooms on their own at some point, aren’t they?”

“It’s big enough.”

“A place with a big backyard, that Benny will run around in, even when he gets old.”

“Could you imagine it? Our house just bursting with life.”

“Chaos, you mean. Four kids, looking like us… running around. Safe, happy… without a care.”

“I want that.”

“I know.”

“Every part of it, the days when I’m tired and trip over roller skates in the foyer and step on a Lego, the day one of them tells me they hate me and I cry. Picking them up from a friend’s house or the police station. I want to be there for each first day of school and their last day of college…  Seeing someone become a person of their own, knowing I was there, helping them become themselves.”

“So do I.”

“Our little family…”

“Yeah…”

“I would’ve liked to see it.”

“So would I.”

Day 26: flannel

for @kingdonmicrofic | Mel King/Frank Langdon | rating: G | wc: 232

Despite growing up in the Midwest, Mel has never liked winter. Snow looks beautiful, but she hates the feeling of it hitting her face as she shovels, or how it soaks into her boots and socks after one wrong step. Even worse is when the wind chill dips below zero, and it becomes too cold to snow. In college, a ten minute walk to class in January required multiple layers – coat, gloves, hat, scarf – all to reach the lecture hall and have her glasses immediately fog up from the temperature change. 

Pittsburgh might not get quite as cold, but Mel still despises its winter. It’s gray, and chilly, and rainy when it’s not snowing. Driving is a nightmare, as evidenced by the accident victims they see in The Pitt (why did she move somewhere where 76-car pile-ups on the turnpike are a thing?). Plus, the lack of daylight puts her in a bad mood. 

Of course, she has her tried-and-true coping mechanisms: flannel bedsheets, a cupboard stocked with hot tea, hand warmers, and a light therapy lamp. But her new boyfriend might be the perfect cure for winter-induced doldrums. Frank runs hot, leaving her bed toasty warm even on the coldest nights. He insists on carpooling so Mel needn’t drive on slippery roads. And one smile from him across the ED is brighter than any sun. 

Perhaps winter is growing on her.