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Mel had no idea what she’d been thinking.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
The bass reverberated through her from the music, making her teeth rattle. Everything about this night was too much.
The music too loud, the flashing lights over the dance floor too bright, the air inside the bar too humid and sticky.
Her skin prickled with the denseness of it, like she was wading through a swamp. She wasn’t surprised that she seemed to be the only one dissatisfied with the vibe, though.
When Mel had mentioned offhandedly in passing a few weeks back that her 30th birthday was coming up, she had no idea the terrifying chain of events that would follow.
It had come up while she was sitting in the break room with Whittaker one afternoon, watching him ruefully wipe at the mayonnaise that had just dripped from his sandwich onto his scrub top.
She should have known that the information would get passed on to Trinity.
That became apparent the next morning, when her colleague sidled up next to her in front of the board and asked her where her party invite was. When Mel answered that there was no party to be invited to, a glint had appeared in Trinity’s eyes that set Mel’s teeth on edge.
It was a look she’d seen before, and it almost always meant trouble.
What followed had been a week of near constant badgering. Trinity had seemingly decided not celebrating your 30th was simply too depressing, and had made it her mission to change that.
When Trinity set a goal she could be impressively single minded in her pursuit of it. Mel managed to hold out for precisely eight days before finally giving in during a weak moment at the end of a horrible shift.
“Fine,” she’d groaned, slumped against her locker, a half-eaten protein bar in her hand.
Trinity had whooped so loudly Abbot had come to investigate, which meant word quickly spread throughout the emergency department.
Melissa King was throwing a party.
Mel’s condition had been that Trinity had to plan everything. Her reasoning had been that she simply didn’t have time to pull something together. And, she’d thought with shame, she wasn’t sure her idea of a party would line up with everyone else’s.
That, she now knew, had been a mistake.
Trinity had taken up the project with gusto, which was why Mel was now weaving her way through a crowded dive bar, a banner hanging over a makeshift dance floor with the words ‘Happy Birthday Melanoma’ in neon pink.
She didn’t even know half the people in here, she thought glumly as she scanned the room. Perhaps knowing that Mel’s social circle wasn’t exactly large enough to pack out a bar, Trinity had invited half the hospital along.
People she only vaguely knew from surgery and ICU slurred birthday greetings at her in between shots and rounds of drinking games.
Meanwhile, the two people she really wanted to be celebrating with were nowhere to be seen.
Becca was staying at the centre. It had been a sensible move, Mel had to admit. Her sister would have taken one look at this scene of total sensory overload and had an absolute panic attack. They’d gone out for breakfast that morning, which had been nice. But Mel couldn’t help but think of her sister sitting in her room at the centre, probably reading a book with a cup of tea, and wishing she was having a similar night.
Then there was Frank.
If Mel was truly honest with herself (a terrifying thought), she’d have to admit Frank was the only reason she had agreed to the party at all.
She and Frank had been steadily growing closer over the past six months, since he’d returned from rehab sober and with a pale line where his wedding ring used to be.
They carpooled to work most days, shared movie nights and dinners and trips to the art gallery and Tanner’s baseball games.
Their lives had slowly become so intertwined it was sometimes hard to see where her world ended and his began.
She considered him her best friend, aside from Becca.
And if she was completely and totally besotted with him? Well, that was something she was desperately trying to keep to herself, thank you very much.
But as Trinity’s hassling about the party had increased, she couldn’t help but think back to her high school fantasies. The ones mirroring scenes she’d only seen in movies, where the star-crossed lovers would finally kiss at the party, some cheesy early 2000s song playing in the background.
It clung to the back of her eyelids as she tried to sleep at night, seeing Frank across a crowded dance floor, him wading through the crowd until he reached her, his hands wrapping around her waist and pulling her close…
Well, she’d held out for as long as she could, but she was only so strong.
So she’d agreed to the stupid party, and invited him as casually as she could the following morning.
At first he’d seemed excited about it, but as the day of the party drew near, Mel had noticed him seeming more and more withdrawn every time it was brought up.
He’d text her happy birthday that morning, but had made no mention of seeing her that night.
It left a pit in Mel’s stomach that refused to budge.
But, ever the optimist, she’d still allowed Samira to come over and help her get ready.
When Mel had admitted a few days earlier that she had no idea what she was going to wear, Samira’s eyes had lit up with an intensity Mel had only ever seen once during an emergency appendectomy.
It turned out that Samira was obsessed with makeover shows, which explained why Mel was now wearing a black strappy dress that barely skimmed her thighs (which she kept trying to tug down every five seconds), a pair of much too high stilettos, and why her hair was hanging around her shoulders in loose waves instead of its usual sensible plait or ponytail.
Samira had assured her she looked good, a sentiment echoed by Trinity when she’d arrived at the bar and seen Mel.
“If you were queer and Garcia wouldn’t kill me, I’d totally be hitting on you,” she’d grinned over the first of many tequila shots. Mel had chosen to believe that was a big compliment by Trinity’s standards.
But without the one person who she wanted to impress, Mel just felt a little silly, a girl playing dress ups.
Because it had been nearly two hours, and Frank still hadn’t shown.
After noticing how Mel kept glancing at the door every 30 seconds, Samira and Victoria had taken pity on her and forced her to knock back a couple of gin and tonics before pulling her onto the dance floor.
Now she was doing her best not to look as awkward as she felt as she tried to sway along to the music with them. She just couldn’t understand how Samira managed to look so effortlessly cool, how she managed to move her hips in such a way that Dr Abbot’s eyes were glued to her from across the room, where he was sitting in a booth with Robby and Dana.
Victoria wasn’t quite as graceful (and was certainly a few more drinks in), but at least she was managing to keep in time with the music.
Mel just felt like she was trying too hard.
She was about to make an excuse to retreat to the safety of the bar when she felt a hand press into her hip. For a wild second her heart lifted and she turned, expecting to see a shock of dark hair and blue eyes glinting with dark humour.
Instead she found herself face to face with Sam Mason. Sam was an R2 who’d started his surgical rotation a couple of months earlier.
He appeared occasionally in the Pitt to work on traumas under the watchful eye of Garcia, who seemed grudgingly impressed with him.
Mel had heard several of the new interns gushing about him more than once, much to her amusement. She could understand why.
He had short, sandy hair and a nice smile, and the kind of physique that screamed quarterback, even under his scrubs.
Mel had worked on a few procedures with him and he seemed nice enough, although a little too aware of his own good qualities for her liking.
They were collegial, polite.
Certainly not friendly enough for his fingers to be pressing into her skin like that.
“Here’s the birthday girl,” his breath smelled like bourbon, and Mel had to plaster a smile on her face to hide her grimace.
Victoria wasn’t paying much attention, her gaze now fixed on Mateo dancing with Donnie and Princess next to them, but Samira was watching the interaction with a slight frown.
“Hi Sam,” Mel said politely. She tried to wriggle her way out of his grasp, but the press of bodies around them prevented her from getting too far.
“You look great, Mel,” Sam breathed into her ear. His breath felt hot, moist against her skin, and she shuddered. “Seriously, you should ditch the scrubs more often.”
“Um, thanks,” she floundered. “You look, ah, nice as well.”
He did, objectively. A few of the radiology nurses lingering by the speakers were staring at him wistfully, and Mel wished he would continue over to them.
Instead to her displeasure, he slid his hand from her hip and around her lower back. Mel could feel her hands clenching and unclenching into fists. It was one of her stims, something she did when she was feeling particularly uncomfortable or out of her depth. This definitely counted as one of those scenarios.
“Are you having a good time?” She asked, trying to be polite without encouraging him.
His hand flexed on the small of her back, hot through the thin material of her dress.
“I am now.”
Mel saw Samira’s eyes narrow and she knew her friend was about to intervene. Before she could so much as open her mouth however, another hand was on Mel, this one wrapped around her arm.
“Hey,” Frank Langdon had appeared from nowhere and was now standing at her side. His mouth was quirked up in a smile, but she could see a muscle in his jaw twitching.
“You’re here!” She blurted out before she could stop herself. For the first time that night, she could feel a genuine smile tugging at her lips. He grinned back, eyes flashing.
“In the flesh,” he murmured.
Her heart stuttered as she took him in. She’d seen him out of his scrubs plenty of times, but he looked particularly good in his white shirt and dark jeans. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, exposing the forearms Mel had admired during procedures so many times.
“Dr Langdon,” Sam’s voice made Mel jump- she’d almost forgotten he was there. Frank clearly hadn’t though. His eyes darkened as he looked at the other man, and Mel felt his grip on her arm tighten slightly.
“Dr Mason,” Frank’s voice was polite but clipped, a tone that Mel knew all too well. It was the voice he used on particularly difficult patients when they were really starting to get on his nerves. It usually led to Mel hastening him out of the room to avoid a seriously low patient satisfaction score. She wasn’t sure why he was using it on Sam, who he was usually perfectly cordial to.
“I’m surprised to see you here,” Sam’s grip on her also tightened. Mel was starting to feel like she was in the middle of an unwanted game of tug of war. “You know, in a bar, around the alcohol and stuff.”
Mel frowned and opened her mouth to cut in, but Frank beat her to it.
“It was pills I was addicted to, not alcohol,” he said evenly. “I don’t drink, but it’s out of personal choice rather than a necessity.”
Sam shrugged, as if he didn’t really care about Frank’s sobriety.
“Sure, sure. Hey Mel, I could use some fresh air, why don’t you join me-“
Mel could feel Sam trying to tug her away, but to her relief Frank didn’t relinquish his grip.
“Actually I was hoping to talk to Mel,” he said, his voice laced with challenge. There was a fraught moment where Mel felt suspended in time, both men staring at her expectantly. Despite his confidence, Mel could see a hint of anxiety in Frank’s eyes. She had the sudden urge to reach over and smooth out the crease between his eyes with her thumb.
“I’m going to stay with Frank,” she said, not taking her eyes off him. He visibly sagged with relief, his smile suddenly looking a lot more genuine. “Sam, I’ll catch up with you later.”
Sam scowled, his hand still pressed against Mel’s back. Before he could speak, Samira was at his other side, pulling him away.
“Hey Sam, I think Dr Abbot wanted to catch up with you about that intubation you did the other day…”
Mel cast her friend a grateful look as she pulled the sulking Sam towards an unsuspecting Abbot.
“Remind me to get Samira a really nice Christmas present,” Frank said.
Mel turned to face him properly. He was a lot taller than her, even in her heels, and she had to look up to meet his gaze. Even under the brightly coloured strobe lights he somehow managed to look mysterious, a dark prince transported into a frat party.
“It’s pretty loud in here,” he said, leaning down so she could hear him better. Her sudden proximity to his face was overwhelming, and to her embarrassment she swayed a little, dizzy. Hoping he’d put it down to the effects of alcohol and the lights, she nodded vehemently.
“Cmon, let’s go somewhere quieter.”
To her surprise he reached down and took her hand, leading her expertly through the throng of people. As they passed by a booth Mel locked eyes with Trinity, who was sitting on Garcia’s lap. She glanced down at their entwined hands, rolled her eyes, and then mouthed what looked like ‘you’re welcome’.
Mel didn’t have time to try to decipher the meaning behind that before Frank was tugging her gently through a door at the end of the bar.
It led out into a small hallway with three doors- two for the bathrooms, and another one with no signage. It was through that one that Frank led her next, into what appeared to be an unused store room. It was musty and lined with slightly damp looking shelves, but the sudden absence of noise and pulsing lights was like heaven. Mel felt her whole body relax.
“Better?” Frank asked, raising an eyebrow. He hadn’t let go of her hand.
“Much. Thank you.”
“Of course.”
There was an awkward pause, as if neither of them suddenly knew what to say. Mel began to feel overly conscious of the hair sticking to the back of her neck with sweat.
“I didn’t think you were going to come,” she said eventually. Her voice was soft, not accusing, but she could tell he sensed the question in it.
His mouth quirked into a grimace and he scrubbed his free hand through his hair, something he usually only did when he was agitated.
“I didn’t think I was going to either,” he admitted. “I’m sorry.”
“Why?”
A hint of amusement flashed through his eyes despite his serious expression.
“Why wasn’t I going to come, or why am I sorry?”
Mel shrugged, feeling five steps behind in the conversation and trying desperately to catch up.
“Either. Both.”
“It’s your birthday Mel, your big night. I didn’t want to ruin it by being in a bad mood the whole time. The apology is for not letting you know I wasn’t going to show up. That was a dick move.”
Mel was hopelessly lost now.
“Why would you be in a bad mood? Is it being around the alcohol?”
He chuckled humourlessly.
“No, I meant what I said to your friend out there. It really doesn’t bother me, alcohol was never one of my vices.”
“Then why?”
Frank sighed. He looked tired, Mel thought. Most of them did, one of the many fun hazards of the job. But the shadows under Frank’s eyes were more pronounced than usual.
“It’s stupid and petty Mel, honestly. I was checking on a patient up on the surgical floor last week- remember Mr Kane, old guy who had a heart attack at the bank?”
When Mel nodded, he continued.
“Well I wanted to see how his heart surgery went so I went up there, and I overheard Mason telling one of his buddies that he was planning to ask you out tonight. So I figured I’d stay home, instead of ruining your buzz.”
Mel was silent for a long moment as she tried to unpack all of that. Sam Mason was going to ask her out? It explained his behaviour before, but it was still completely out of left field. She’d never had any sense that he was interested in her before. Then again, she wasn’t always the best judge of people’s intentions. There was a bigger issue that she couldn’t wrap her head around, however.
“Why would Sam asking me out put you in a bad mood?”
Frank looked down at her with a pained expression. His fingers flexed around hers, almost involuntarily.
“Cmon Mel. You have to know why seeing you with another guy would make me want to claw my own eyes out.”
Understanding began to dawn. Mel felt her mouth fall open, a soft ‘oh’ escaping before she could stop it. Her head buzzed like it was filled with white noise. The idea of Frank Langdon being jealous, over her, was almost too overwhelming to fully process. For so long Mel had thought her infatuation was one sided and unrequited. She’d assumed Frank only saw her as a friend, because of course she did - why on earth would someone like him be interested in someone like her? It didn’t make sense, and Mel was nothing if not logical.
But now all of her assumptions were being turned on their head. Suddenly it felt like the room was spinning.
“Mel?”
Frank was staring at her with concern, a shadow of vulnerability in his eyes.
“I wouldn’t have said yes,” she managed eventually. “To Sam, I mean.”
“You wouldn’t?”
“No. He’s nice. Well, I thought he was, before tonight anyway. But no. I don’t want to go out with him.”
Frank took a halting step forward, closing the gap between them. “Why not?”
Mel shrugged, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“Because he’s not you.”
For a long loaded moment Frank stared at her, his eyes becoming almost impossibly bright. And then his lips crashed into hers.
Mel was so stunned at the sensation of his lips, his mouth, his tongue, that she barely registered him backing her up against the wall, pressing his body against hers.
It was frenzied, heated, hands moving restlessly from hair to clothes to skin. Mel felt drunker on the taste of him than she ever had on any alcohol.
When his lips trailed down her neck to her collarbone, she let out an involuntary moan that had Frank twitching with desire under her. Normally the sound would have left her mortified, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. For once her mind felt completely at ease, too consumed with him.
“I only let Trinity throw this stupid party because of you,” she said breathlessly as he pressed a kiss against the top of her breast. “I wanted to dress up for you.”
“Fuck, Mel,” he groaned, claiming her lips again hungrily.
Her fists clenched in his shirt, trying futilely to pull him closer even though they were pressed flush against each other already. Frank groaned into her mouth and then hooked his arms under her ass, lifting her up so she could wrap her legs around him. He held her against the wall with his body weight, hands gripping the tops of her thighs.
“You look so fucking sexy Mel,” he growled against her neck. “I don’t want anyone else seeing you when you look this good. I almost lost it when I saw that asshole’s hands on you.”
Mel could feel him hard against her, just a few scraps of flimsy material separating them. She rolled her hips and saw stars.
Her hands traced down the planes of his stomach, reaching for the cold metal of his zipper, when suddenly he pulled back.
“Frank?”
He smiled ruefully at her, breathing heavily. His eyes were dark with desire, his body taut with the effort of not moving.
“Baby, we can’t. I want to- God knows I want to. But not here. I don’t want our first time, on your fucking birthday, to be in a dusty storeroom where anyone could walk in.”
He gently lowered her to the ground and stepped back, giving her space.
She huffed in frustration, the sudden absence of him like a wound. She’d been so close, right on the edge of something almost scary in its intensity. But as she caught her breath, she had to reluctantly agree with him. Sex in a room next to the toilets didn’t exactly scream romance.
Sighing, she nodded.
They stood apart for a moment, trying to compose themselves. When the flush had receded a little from Frank’s cheeks he pulled her close again, more tender this time.
“You have no idea,” Frank shook his head a little in wonder, tucking her hair behind her ear. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.”
Mel blushed, drinking him in. His hair was mussed from her fingers, his shirt wrinkled and half unbuttoned. She could see faint traces of her lipstick staining his lips, his neck, his collarbone. All signs that this was real, that he was hers, hers, hers.
A scene from one of those teen movies flashed through her mind but it suddenly seemed shallow, silly compared to this. Compared to Frank.
“Can you take me home? Please?”
He grinned, eyes shining.
“Thought you’d never ask.”
They managed to slip out of the bar unnoticed, aside from a knowing smirk courtesy of Dana. Mel knew she’d be in for it on Monday, peppered with questions about why she’d left early and who she’d left with.
And yet, as Mel glanced back at the crowd of revellers, she couldn’t help but think this had been her best birthday yet.