Work Text:
After Mel’s reaction to finding out about Becca and Adam, it had taken a few weeks before Becca felt comfortable finally introducing her boyfriend to her sister. When she had, however, Mel had quickly realized that Adam was a great guy and while it still stung that her sister felt she had to keep him from her, she was willing to take a step back and let them find their independence together. This had been the point of moving Becca to Middle Hill Independent Living Center in the first place.
With Becca spending more time with Adam and her other friends from the center, Mel found herself with more and more free time, something she hadn’t had a lot of in probably, well, forever. The first few weeks, she’d caught up on chores and sleep and a lot of the little adult things she’d been putting off in favor of her sister and her job. She reactivated her long unused Netflix account and caught up on a few of the shows her sister had talked non-stop about. She even actually read a fiction book, a twenty teens chick lit that had been sitting on her shelf since before med school.
Eventually, Mel settled into a routine that was, for the first time in a long time, somewhat refreshing and less chaotic than she was used to. Which meant that after a few more weeks, she was hopelessly bored.
She’d heard a few of the residents, including Dennis, talking about the Street Team, so she’d tracked Dana down for more specifics. Since they were always looking for more bodies, the supervisor had practically shoved a jacket on her and handed her a binder full of information. Being on the Street Team was fulfilling for Mel as someone who loves taking care of people and also as someone that’s been longing for a community.
When she’d gotten the email from the Street Team supervisor calling for volunteers to help pack up emergency supply bags, Mel had emailed back almost immediately. Being able to sort through and organize backpacks of water bottles, cold packs, protein bars, and other summer necessities was exactly the kind of mindless task she needed right now.
There were two things she hadn’t expected, however, when she showed up to the basement supply room on her day off in the middle of September. One was the central air conditioning unit for the entire floor to go out overnight, leaving the room hot and muggy from the late summer heatwave that was hovering over Pittsburgh.
The other was Frank Langdon.
She finds him already in the room, flipping through stacks of paper and opening cardboard boxes, and she stops abruptly in the doorway. His shoulders jump when she exhales an ‘oh’ at the sight of him and he spins to look at her.
“Hey!” he says and Mel freezes, eyes wide at his genuine enthusiasm at seeing her. Even after working with him near daily for over three months, it’s still a shock to her that he not only enjoys her company, but that he seeks her out for most cases when they share a shift. She hopes he can’t see the flush on her cheeks or, if he does, he chalks it up to the rising temperatures in the room.
“Good morning, Dr. Langdon,” Mel finally says, forcing herself to drop her shoulders as she enters the room.
“Frank, please,” is his response, looking back down at the paper in his hand, completely missing the way her nose crinkles up.
“What are you doing here, Frank?” she asks, and she really hopes that the tremble in her voice is not as noticeable as she thinks it is. She’s called him Frank before, when they grab a coffee together or when he calls to tell her about a case she missed. But she’s been trying to make it clear, to him to an extent, but mostly to herself, that in the walls of the hospital, he’s Dr. Langdon. Just as a boundary she keeps to help her navigate their friendship.
“Abby took the kids to her parents,” Frank says and Mel tries to hide her wince at the mention of his soon-to-be-ex. She’d been a topic of conversation at a few of their early morning meetups and Mel had worked hard to keep her judgement of the other woman’s lack of support for Frank from interfering with her own relationship with him. She pauses to let him continue. “I didn’t want to just sit at home.”
It looks to her like he was doing just that. He’s dressed in a pair of soft looking jeans with half the hems torn off from the heel of his shoe and the shirt he’s wearing is stretched out around the neck like it’s been pulled on and off a thousand times over the years. She thinks it might have said something on the front, maybe the name of his alma mater, but the letters are too faded now. Even his hair looks like it’s taking the day off, strands of it brushed every which way before falling into his face.
“Also, I saw your name on the volunteer sign up,” he finishes, looking back up at her, bright blue eyes sparkling mischievously. Mel really hopes they get the air conditioning back up and running soon.
The sweat is already gathering at the small of her back as they get started sorting through boxes and she does her best to ignore the tiny hairs on the back of her neck as they stick to her skin. Her and Frank work fluidly, like they have since that first day a year ago, and she does her best not to think about what that might mean. It’s been a long time since someone understood her; she’s a little bit in awe of him.
The room they’re in gradually warms up further, the heat and humidity settling in a heavy press against them while they work through the kits. Mel’s glasses continuously slide down her nose and it feels like she spends more time pushing them back up than she does actually making the kits. Eventually she gets so fed up that she lets out a soft ‘ugh’ and slides them off her face completely, setting them to the side of the table with a huff.
Next to her, Frank chuckles and she hopes he doesn’t comment on her squinting. She takes the momentary pause in her work to also tug her hair out of her braid and pull it all up into a messy bun on the top of her head. She stretches out back, the slight pop making her sigh before she gets back to work. She glances over at her companion and it seems to her like the heat is also getting to him, his face flushed and beads of sweat coming from his hairline.
At some point, Frank disappears and returns with a small, metal oscillating table fan that he plugs in and flips on. At first, Mel’s grateful for the slight breeze, but as the day continues and the air gets warmer, all it really seems to do is push around hot air.
By lunchtime, they’ve completed probably two-thirds of the emergency bags. The room is stifling and she’d put off refilling her water bottle in favor of trying to finish packing bags quicker. Mel grabs at a box of gauze from the top shelf, sliding it to the edge and standing on her tip toes to wrap her fingers around the edges.
She doesn’t remember the next few seconds, just that she hadn’t quite gotten a grip on the box before her knees had buckled underneath her. By the time she realizes what’s happened, she’s being slowly lowered to the floor by arms that are wrapped around her shoulders and waist. Mel thinks she should be grossed out by the thin sheen of sweat she can feel on his skin as he lowers her to the ground.
“-it, Mel,” she hears, his warm breath against her ear. “Just breathe,” he continues as he pulls away just as quickly as he’d grabbed her. Things are moving both too quickly and also almost sluggishly and it’s making Mel feel a little sick.
It takes a few more seconds for her brain to catch back up, and by the time it does, Frank is back with a bottle of water that he cracks open quickly. “Slow slips, sweetheart,” he says and the temperature must be affecting her more than usual because that’s the only reason for the burst of heat that blossoms in her stomach. She lets him hold the mouth of the bottle to her lips and drinks slowly before moving to take the bottle from him.
“Frank,” she says, sliding her fingers over his to grab the water bottle, only to have him pull away quickly again to grab something from their work table. He cracks a cold pack with one hand and holds it to the back of her neck, moving with her instinctually when she tries to move away.
“Those are for the kits,” Mel exclaims, attempting to move away again. Frank just follows her, kneeling against the floor next to her.
“They can spare one cold pack, Mel,” he says without a hint of exasperation and she knows he’s right, even as a part of her worries about being the reason someone won’t have an emergency bag because of lack of supplies. “Besides, I was out of snack bars anyway.” He’s still holding the pack against the back of her neck and he uses the other hand to coax her to drink more water. “I think we’re done for the day.”
For a moment, Mel thinks about arguing, casting a glance at the pile of bags they’d already made, before looking back up at Frank and deciding against it. The water and coolness of the pack must be helping already as she takes in the way his mouth quirks into a smile.
“I’m okay,” she says, putting her own hand against the cold pack to allow him to move back. He does, but he stays close enough that she can see the individual sweat drops on his neck. Now that she's more aware, she’s more embarrassed than anything, annoyed with herself for not noticing the signs of heat exhaustion. “I just got a little dizzy.”
Frank doesn’t say anything at first, just raises one eyebrow slightly before huffing out a laugh.
“But, I think you’re right,” Mel continues. “I think we can wrap up here.”
He cups her elbows as he helps her stand and then hovers his hands inches from her after letting go, just in case she goes down again. When she seems steady on her feet, she watches him reach over to grab her glasses, unfolding them and settling them on her face. He has to bend slightly to look her in the eye as he does so.
“There she is,” he says when they’re back in place and it makes her smile at him before looking away, ignoring for a moment that he’s left smudges on her lenses. “Let’s get out of here,” Frank says as he grabs both of their backpacks to sling over one shoulder.
Mel really is feeling better, but they take their time moving through the hospital. The first floor air conditioner is working, but the heat of the day and the rising heat from the basement doesn’t make it feel any better, so they don’t bother to stop on their way to the parking lot.
“Did you take the bus?” Frank asks, one hand still hovering at the (oh god, now even sweatier) small of her back. “I’ll give you a ride home.”
Immediately, she tries to decline his offer, but she barely gets the words out before he’s interrupting her again. “I insist,” he says as they approach the passenger door of his SUV. He herds her inside before slinging both of their bags in the back and running around to the driver’s side.
“If you want,” he starts as he turns the key, “I’ll even stop for ice cream.” He shoots her a wink as he backs out of the spot and maybe that’s a good idea since the vent blasting cold air at her doesn't seem to be doing much of anything based on the way her whole body flushes in response.