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When we were strangers,
I watched you from afar.
When we were lovers,
I loved you with all my heart.
Frank fucked up.
He hadn’t meant to sleep in for his shift but he swears he simply closed his eyes for just one fucking second…just one stupid second.
The house is dark and quiet as he moves down the hallway, not bothering to reach for the light switch just yet. The comforting sound of the white noise machine in his room is beginning to fade away the faster he runs down the stairs, and he vaguely blames the damn thing for being the reason why he fell asleep so hard.
His sock clad feet slide along the hardwood floors and there’s a second where he feels like he might just fall down the stairs but he can’t bring himself to be careful even if he tries.
Not when he fucked up.
Frank is surprisingly still alive as he comes to a complete stop before entering the living room, taking a deep calming breath as his eyes adjust to the darkness one would expect at three in the morning.
The room is a mess as of late. He knows he should fix it up a bit, knows he should take the five water bottles on the coffee table into the kitchen to clean them for the next day. The throw blankets could use a wash as well, but something tells him that she would rather have them smell like her current favorite scent right now. There’s movement in the darkness as his eyes finally adjust and he’s thrown back into his current reality once more.
Somehow, he’s always blown away by how beautiful Mel is.
From her lovely honey blonde hair that moves like silk between his fingers to the way he has memorized every little microexpression that has ever crossed her face, Frank can’t help but think that she is the loveliest woman he’s ever met in his life.
That is, of course, before she gave birth to their daughter and suddenly became even lovelier in ways he could never begin to comprehend.
Frank is enraptured as he watches them now, listening to the sound of Mel’s quiet shushing, her eyes closed and her lips pressing butterfly kisses on dark hair that matches his own. She’s wearing nothing but an oversized shirt and the warm fuzzy socks she wore at the hospital, keeping her steps quiet as he sways in the middle of the living room in a dance only new mothers soaking up this new, profound love they have suddenly been gifted enjoy.
The tell-tale sound of a newborn grunting takes Frank’s eyes away from his wife, his daughter no doubt adjusting to having just been changed after a good and thorough feeding in the safety of the only person she has ever known for nine months. She’s a tiny little thing in Mel’s safe arms, her dark hair flat in that way that highlights just how fresh she is out of the womb.
“Sweetheart?” Frank whispers, afraid to interrupt the moment but also needing to know if he can do anything for Mel, even now at three in the morning.
“Hey,” Mel whispers just as quietly, her smile tired but so content it almost makes Frank want to cry. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen such an expression on her pretty face, not even for him. “I know you were on baby duty tonight but…I just couldn’t help it.”
Frank should have known. Mel was never good at waking him up if she had to.
“Baby, you need to rest,” Frank starts as he steps close to her, one hand cradling the back of Mel’s neck, the other covering the entirety of his daughter's small head on Mel’s chest, marveling at how she’s still curled up as if she’s still inside Mel’s body. It makes him want to cry at how precious she looks. “I’m so, so sorry. I should’ve woken up. I should’ve felt you getting up.”
“You were tired, it’s okay,” Mel says in a whisper in that way that he knows she means it. She’s not mad at him. She has never been mad at him.
"Don’t do that, please.” Frank’s tone is gentle but his eyes focus on her without wavering. His thumb caresses her jaw and the movement makes Mel turn her face into his palm. He makes a mental note to shower her with more physical affection, enough to replace the amount she currently has to give their daughter.
He doesn’t miss just how content Mel looks like this. As a new mother at three in the morning.
”I just love her so much,” Mel confesses into the night.
And yeah, Frank understands that on a level that makes his bones ache and his chest feel like it could drown in the feeling.
He understands the disarming way it feels to love someone so viscerally. To feel that love grow stronger every single day he worked with her, watching her from afar and wanting nothing more than to see her smile at him, even if that was the only thing she ever gave him. It made him feel both pathetic and yet like the luckiest man alive to ever be given such a grace.
He understands how debilitating that love feels like when he’d look at Mel and see how scared she was for the duration of her pregnancy, only to have that fear morph into the purest love the second she held their baby once she was out and placed on her bare chest. Frank has never seen her smile so much since that moment in the hospital three days ago.
Even now, as he moves behind Mel and begins to sway along with his wife and newborn, Frank can feel his love for her fill him up so much he swears he’s going to explode right here, right now, in their messy living room with the warm glow of Becca’s fairy lights along the fireplace mantel.
”My jersey? Really?” Frank teases as his hands hold Mel’s hips, still full and supple and driving him insane.
“It’s comfortable and easily accessible for breastfeeding.” Mel lets Frank guide them, lulling her with his movements once he takes full control. She’s glad she can feel his hands on her or else she’d probably fall asleep on her feet and that would definitely be a worse case scenario.
Frank loves her like this. Confident as she holds another beautiful little star in his universe, tucked so safely against her he knows the sound of Mel’s heartbeat has lulled the baby back to sleep for another couple of hours before she needs to eat again. Content as Mel’s face smooths into an expression so carefree and calm, calmer like he’s never seen her before since the first day he met her.
The sight of that calmness makes him unbearably happy and perhaps just a little bit too eager to give his baby girl an Irish twin (He squashes the idea down quick, knowing damn well Mel deserves to heal properly before his lizard brain even dares to picture her pregnant again).
For now, he has this.
Mel in his penguin’s jersey, smelling like baby lotion and the shampoo she used during her shower while he watched the baby and mesmerized her precious face as she slept on his bare chest.
He has their messy living room and the clear evidence of Mel’s semi-permanent residence on their couch because Frank insists on her taking naps throughout the day. Mel’s perfectly curated baby cart with all her essentials is the only thing that’s perfectly organized but Frank finds great pride knowing she still needs him to refill her water bottle during the day or bring her more of those lactation cookies he made with Penny the day before Mel gave birth.
It’s a chaotic mess born of spending every waking second caring for Mel. He doesn’t think he’s ever loved a job as much as he loves this one.
Mel’s voice breaks through the silence that had fallen around them, sweet and blissful beyond measure. “This isn’t a dream, is it?”
“It’s real, baby. She’s real.”
Frank’s love is a wildfire in his chest.
And even though he knows he should usher Mel back to bed, knows he should tuck his daughter into her swaddle and trace his finger down the perfect little nose she got from her beautiful mother, Frank allows himself to savor this for a second longer.
He needs to memorize it, after all.