Work Text:
Frank Langdon wakes up to an empty bed.
The bed is cold beside him, the kind of cold that says Mel’s been gone a while. He jolts upright, heart pounding, eyes darting to the clock on the nightstand.
8:07 AM. Fuck. He’s late. Definitely fired. No, he’s going to get blacklisted or sued or exiled from polite society.
Wait… Right. He has the day off.
He sags back into the mattress with a groan that’s part relief, part existential dread. He notices the apartment is dead silent, which means Mel—his impossibly competent, graceful, too-good-for-him wife—has already gone to work.
Frank takes a tiny, unnecessary sniff, as if her presence might still be lingering in the air like the last whiff of morning coffee. But no. Nothing. She’s gone. He didn’t even hear her leave.
For a second, it feels a little too quiet, like the house is holding its breath without her.
Frank stands up and stumbles to the kitchen, shirtless, hair a tangled mess that could probably stand up on its own. His eyes land on the sink. Empty.
The bowl. The one from last night. His small but mighty contribution to the never-ending pile of mess. It's gone. Cleaned. Dried. Like it's never there.
A tight, uncomfortable twist hits his chest. Mel did it. Again.
Frank leans against the counter, feeling the weight of it—the shame, the gratitude, the love, all knotted together in a tangle he can’t even begin to unravel. How did he end up with someone like her? Fucking hell.
But then he notices it. There’s no note. No “Love you.” No “Don’t forget to eat.” No little heart doodle in her neat handwriting on the fridge.
And Mel didn’t kiss him goodbye.
Mel always kisses him goodbye. Even when he’s half asleep, barely able to keep his eyes open, or when she’s rushing out the door with a million things to do. She’ll kiss his eyelids, the corner of his mouth, the tip of his nose—those little, quiet moments that have become their own kind of ritual. But today? Nothing.
His chest tightens, and his brain, his ever-loyal disaster machine, starts to churn out conclusions. Terrible ones. The kind that involves suitcases, whispered phone calls, and words like distance and I can’t do this anymore.
Maybe she’s fucking sick of it. Sick of him. The dishes, the sleeping in, the chaos he drags around like some sort of tornado. Maybe she’s finally realized she married a shirtless mess of a man who can’t even remember to rinse a cereal bowl.
And so, like any totally normal husband who’s sure his wife is about to leave him, Frank heads to the convenience store. Not for food or coffee. No, he’s there to buy gum. Because nothing says “I’m totally not losing my mind” like standing in front of a shelf of minty distractions.
Maybe if Frank buys gum, he’ll look like someone who has his life together.
He picks up lunch—something he knows Mel will like. Her favorite, actually. The one she always says she’s too busy to grab for herself but lights up when he surprises her with it.
After that, Frank figures he’ll swing by the hospital. He’s not on the schedule. But maybe, just maybe, he’ll catch a glimpse of Mel. Hand her the food, smile a little, make her day a tiny bit easier.
Frank knows he has no business being here. The hospital walls know it. The gum he's chewing knows it. The security guard, a hundred percent, knows it too.
But he lets him in without a word, like they both silently agree that Frank must be here for something hospital-related, even if he's wearing jeans. Whatever, it’s fine.
So there he is, with his full, uninterrupted, pager-silent day off. A whole day where he could be doing anything else—like catching up on TV, napping for twelve hours, or finally finishing the twelve books they bought but never read.
Cassie spots him by the nurse’s station, dressed in those jeans, hoodie, and guilt. She pauses, narrowing her eyes like she’s trying to spot something suspicious in a crowd.
“No. Nope. Absolutely not.”
Frank shifts on his feet, clearly caught. “Go ahead. Don’t mind me.”
“Are you lost, or do you just have a thing for fluorescent lighting?” Cassie asks, arms crossed.
Jesus. He kind of needs Cassie to go away. She’s definitely going to attract attention, and that’s the last thing he needs right now.
Frank opens his mouth, but the excuse doesn’t quite make it out. His eyes drift, locking on Mel as she walks down the corridor with a tablet in hand, her ponytail swinging behind her.
Without thinking, Frank ducks his head, like he can somehow disappear into the bland hospital wall.
Cassie catches it instantly. She turns, sees Mel disappear into a patient’s room, then turns back to Frank with a smirk that could cut glass.
“Frank, you’re unbelievable.”
Frank doesn’t flinch. “I know. Thank you.”
Cassie puts her tablet down like this is now her top priority. “You’re not on call. You’re not even in scrubs. You’re wearing jeans. Jeans. You look like someone who wandered in trying to find the vending machine.”
“Well. I’m here because I’m sick,” he says, faking a cough and adding a scratchy edge to his voice.
Cassie gives him a look. “You’re about as sick as I am graceful in heels.”
Frank shrugs, unbothered. “What, a guy can’t fake a cold just to see his pretty wife at work? What happened to real romance?”
“It’s pathetic,” Cassie corrects. “And that’s coming from someone who once cried over a broken stapler.”
“Being pathetic got me the ring, so...”
Cassie sighs, her amusement softening the edge in her voice. “You’re lucky I like you, or I’d report you for being suspiciously happy in a hospital.”
"I like seeing her here," Frank murmurs, his eyes drifting down the hallway. "She’s... composed. Warm. Efficient."
It’s an understatement, really. But then again, words never quite capture what he feels when he sees her.
“She’s an underpaid doctor,” Cassie says. “You make her sound like a high-functioning Disney princess.”
“She kind of is,” Frank says dreamily. "Once, she sat with a nervous patient for twenty minutes, just talking, calming him down like it's the only thing on her list. Later, she noticed a lost visitor and walked them all the way to the right room. She’s basically a medical angel."
“Alright, you need help.”
Frank shrugs. “Being in love isn’t a crime.”
“Not yet,” she mutters. “But give me ten minutes and a dry-erase board, and I’ll map out all of your issues.”
“I love Mel. Sue me.”
“You’re in too deep,” she replies. “You could’ve used today to do literally anything else. But no—you’re here watching your wife like she’s starring in a documentary about compassion.”
Frank thinks for a second. “Well. I would definitely watch that documentary.”
Cassie sighs, leaning on the counter. “How is she not weirded out by this?”
“She knows… I think,” Frank says casually. “She thinks it’s sweet. Or at least tolerable.”
Frank can’t be sure. Maybe Mel does think he’s too much. He almost hopes she’d tell him if she did.
But Mel’s too gentle, too patient. She’d carry the weight long before she ever complained.
“Cool. Still not a reason to loiter around a hospital on your day off,” she says, jerking her thumb toward the staff lounge. “Go home, Frank, or go wait there before someone calls security on you.”
Frank salutes her and heads toward the lounge, his steps determined.
Before Frank makes it to the lounge, Yolanda appears around the corner, eyes glued to her phone. She looks up, sees him, and immediately smirks.
“Don’t start,” Frank says flatly.
“What? I didn’t say anything.”
“You don’t have to. I can hear you judging me from here.”
She snorts. “Relax, Romeo. Your wife’s in Room—”
“Three,” he cuts in, smug. “I know.”
Yolanda arches a brow, unimpressed. “Wow. You tracking her on Find My Wife or something?” She shakes her head with a dramatic sigh. “God, you’re fucking whipped,” she mutters as she strides off.
Dana fixes Frank with a stare as soon as he enters the lounge. She's holding a cup of water, looking like she was about to drink but gets interrupted by the sight of him.
Fuck. Is everyone just everywhere in this damn hospital?
"Frank?" Dana mutters, disappointed. "Oh, kid, you're obsessed with this place. You need to go home."
"No, no. It's not what you think. I was just... getting my stuff."
"Come on, kiddo," she says, putting down the cup before crossing her arms. "You know I don't buy that."
Frank knows he could lie a thousand times. He could make up something believable or even drop to the floor and fake a fainting spell. But Dana? She’d see right through it.
She stands up straight, eyes narrowing as she studies him. "Why’re you really here? You know you can't lie to me. I practically invented your tells."
Alright, then. Time to come clean.
Frank lets out a long sigh, shoulders sagging, before finally admitting it. “She—Mel went to work today without kissing me goodbye.”
Dana blinks, clearly thrown off. “That’s it?”
Frank glares, indignant. “What do you mean, that’s it? She always kisses me before she leaves. Every time. Even when she’s mad. Hell, even when she’s just going to the corner store. And today? Nothing.”
Dana leans back against the wall, clearly fighting a grin. “Oh. Wow. Okay, call 911. We’ve got a code-red tragedy here.”
“You think I’m being weird.” Frank scowls.
“Weird?” Dana snorts, amused. “No, weird is too weak.”
“Dana,” Frank warns, his tone deadpan.
She grins, totally shameless now. “Obsessive? Clingy? Maybe a touch melodramatic? I mean, you tell me. I’m just brainstorming.”
“Dana...”
“Okay, okay. I’m sorry.” She lifts her hands in surrender, but the grin doesn’t go away. “I just didn’t realize we were measuring relationship health in goodbye kisses now. Should I start keeping charts? Maybe a bar graph?”
Frank exhales a long breath, rubbing his hands over his face. His voice drops, quieter, rougher now. “Dana, I think… I think Mel doesn’t need me anymore.”
Dana’s smile falters—just for a second, but it’s enough to show she’s listening. She leans forward, elbow resting on the wall, her teasing edge softening.
“Kid, forgetting a goodbye kiss doesn’t mean she’s blasting off to another planet to start a new life without you. You know that, right?"
“It’s not that.” He shakes his head, eyes downcast. “I just… I feel like there’s something out there that deserves her more than I do.”
Dana doesn’t miss a beat. “Okay, then, give her to them.”
“Hey—”
“This world’s so fucked up, Frank,” Dana says, her voice firm but not unkind. “I can’t fault a guy who loves his wife so much he shows up at her work on his day off. But here’s the thing—Mel makes her own choices. And when you doubt yourself like this? You end up doubting her too. Don’t do that to her.”
“Alright,” Frank mutters, glancing around like he's not ready to do that today. “But uh—can you give this to her? It’s just… lunch.”
He holds out the brown paper bag like it’s evidence in a crime.
“Sorry I didn’t get you one, Dana. I was too busy trying not to get caught. Which, clearly, I failed at.”
Dana takes the bag with a smirk. “You got it, kid.”
Frank knows he should just go home. Being here isn’t helping. It’s not going to magically fix whatever he thinks is happening in his marriage.
So, like any grown adult totally not having a meltdown, Frank tries to sneak out quietly—hoping no one notices he's hanging around a hospital he definitely has no reason to be at today.
But the universe, ever cruel and nosy, has other plans.
Of course, right outside the building, standing like some kind of judgmental checkpoint, is Robby.
“Frank?”
Of course. Just his fucking luck.
“Yeah, Robby?” Frank says, trying to sound casual, like he’s not sweating through his hoodie and clinging to a single missing kiss like it’s a death sentence.
"Didn’t see the kids?”
Frank shrugs. “Apparently showing up at their school just to say hi counts as bothering them. So no."
Internally, Frank’s already spiraling. What if Robby thinks he’s here to steal something? Or trying to sneak around for some sketchy reason? He probably looks like he’s about to boost an entire cart of controlled substances.
Frank clears his throat, steps closer, and blurts out, “I’m not doing what you think I’m doing here.”
Robby opens his mouth, but Frank steamrolls ahead. “I’m just here because Mel didn’t kiss me goodbye.”
There’s a pause. A long one.
Then Robby blinks. “What the fuck?”
“Yup,” Frank nods solemnly. “That’s it, sorry. Not here to commit a crime. Not planning to ruin my life or destroy all your trust in me. Just emotionally imploding about a missing kiss.”
Robby lets out a breath and shakes his head. “Frank, I wasn’t thinking you were here to steal anything.”
“Oh. Okay. Good. Just making sure.”
Robby gives him a look. “I was gonna ask if you were here for Mel. She came in a little late this morning. Just a few minutes, but still. Unusual for her.”
“What. She was late?”
“Yeah. Not much. Five minutes or something. Looked kind of distracted.”
Frank groans. “Great. Late and no kiss. What is that, a double omen?”
Robby snorts, obviously amused. “So… she really didn’t kiss you goodbye?”
“I don’t know! Dana already gave me a whole speech about it.”
“What’d she say?”
“That I’m an idiot and that a missed kiss doesn’t mean Mel’s halfway to a new life.”
Well, Dana used other words, but Frank figures that’s pretty much the gist of it.
“She’s right,” Robby says simply. “Dana’s always right.”
Frank slumps a little, hands in his hoodie pocket. “I just… I don’t want to screw this up, Robby.”
“You’re not.”
“I might. I've got a track record.”
“You won’t.” Robby shakes his head, dead serious now. “You’re out here because you care. That’s not being a screw-up, Frank. That’s a guy trying. That’s someone who wants to make things right.”
“Still feels kind of terrifying.”
“Sure,” Robby shrugs. “But if this is terrifying, at least it’s the kind that means something.”
Frank exhales through his nose.
“Go home, Frank,” Robby says, his voice calm and steady, the kind he uses with his patients when he’s trying to ease their nerves. He offers Frank a smile that’s almost too understanding. “Rest. Wait for your wife. Everything will be okay, you’ll see.”
As soon as Mel steps through the door, Frank sits up straighter, trying not to look like he’s been anxiously waiting for the sound of her keys all evening.
She smiles at him, the kind of smile that always knocks the air out of his lungs. “Someone told me they saw you at the hospital today, Frank. Are you feeling okay?”
“Yeah, yeah,” he says quickly, waving a hand like it’s nothing. “Sorry I didn’t come find you. I saw you though. I just… had to get some things.”
Mel raises an eyebrow but doesn’t press. She just keeps smiling and lifts a paper bag. “I brought dinner.”
Frank nods and heads to the kitchen to set the table. It’s a rhythm now, comfortable and quiet. Mel says she’ll take a shower, and he tries not to overthink how normal it feels—even though every part of him feels like it’s still holding its breath.
By the time they sit down to eat, silence settles between them. Not awkward, exactly—just full. Frank’s chewing, but his brain is scrambling for something to say, anything to fill the space.
Mel beats him to it, voice light, a little amused. “Frank, I did kiss you this morning. You were sleeping. You probably didn’t feel it... You were out cold.”
Frank freezes, mid-bite. Oh, god. Dana told her. Or Robby. Or maybe both. Yep. Definitely both.
He clears his throat. “Okay, new rule,” he mutters, “Next time, wake me up first.”
Mel huffs a soft laugh, the kind that wraps around him like a warm blanket. "Um. I did. That's why I was late," she says, her voice light with that teasing edge that always makes his heart stutter. "You're hard to wake up."
Still with that teasing glint in her eyes, she places a yellow post-it in front of him, like it’s some sort of secret treasure.
“And uh, you must’ve missed my note,” she says, her voice soft and playful. She taps the message on the paper—‘Love you, see you later’—before adding, “I put it on my pillow this morning. I guess it slipped off.”
Of course, it fucking did.
"I—" he starts, his voice trailing off as he scrubs a hand over his face, half embarrassed. "I swear I didn’t feel it. I didn’t see it.”
“Sure. That’s alright. Next time, just wake up and give me a kiss back.”
There’s another pause before he mumbles, almost too low to hear, “And... I’m sorry I forgot to wash the bowl.”
“Frank Langdon,” she says softly. “Look at me, please.”
Frank does. Of course he does. He’d climb a mountain for Mel, even if it was just to tell her he forgot the car keys.
Mel’s voice is mellow, an undeniable warmth in it. “Thank you for folding my clothes. Thank you for buying me my favorite drink. Thank you for getting me lunch today... And even without all of that, I’ll still need you in my life—if that’s okay with you."
Frank blinks, caught off guard. He wasn’t expecting this. Not at all.
“What?” he says, his voice a little uncertain.
Mel shakes her head, her eyes softening as she meets his gaze. “Don’t say sorry,” she whispers, her tone filled with quiet understanding. “Just... Thank me. For washing the bowl.”
Frank’s smile is slow, like a dawn breaking through the fog. He remembers—she’s told him before, in passing, about love not always needing apologies.
Back then, he didn’t get it. Back then, saying sorry felt like something he had to do to prove he was worthy. He didn’t know how to let things just be. But now, with her looking at him like that, with that look in her eyes that says she knows every part of him, and still chooses to stay—Frank gets it.
He nods, a little laugh escaping him as he smiles back at her. “Thank you for washing the bowl,” he says, his voice soft but full of meaning. “And thank you… for being with me.”
Mel leans forward, just a touch, like she wants to make sure he knows she’s right here. Her eyes soften even more, and she whispers, “That’s better.”
And somehow, it is.