three becomes two [f.l]
summary:Β you choose frank (alt ending toΒ threeβs a crowd)
pairing: fem!reader x dennis whitaker (unrequited), fem!reader x frank langdon
warnings/tags:Β abby and kids do not exist in this universe, jealousy, flirting, angst (so much angst), swearing, so much fluffy cuteness, descriptions of medical procedures/injuriesΒ that youβd expect from the pitt
notes:Β my baby deserves this and more ty xoxo (also this gif are we joking...)
likes, reblogs, comments are very much appreciated!
Enjoy my work?Β Tip me!Β π€
masterlist
[Part 1] [Part 2]
You spent long enough up on the roof to watch the sun be swallowed by the city skyline. Long enough that the pleasant breeze had started to bite, no longer soothed by the late July sun.
Long enough, hopefully, for the rest of the day shift to have finally gone home. Long enough for even the usual stragglers to have surrendered their scrubs and handed the department over to the night crawlers.
Long enough that maybe you could make it to your locker without running into either of them.
Abott's words followed you all the way down the fire escape stairs.
I think deep down you already know which one of them might give you that.
You hated how simple heβd made it sound.
You kept your head down as you crossed the department.
You didnβt have the energy for the jumpy, painfully careful silence with Dennis, and you definitely didnβt have the emotional fortitude for whatever Frank was doing now - the hovering, the jokes, the way he kept forcing you to look at him like he knew avoidance was the only defence you had left and had decided to dismantle it piece by piece.
Unfortunately, Frank Langdon had always been very good at finding cracks in your defences.
"I thought Robby banished you hours ago."
You stopped.
Closed your eyes briefly.
Then turned.
Frank was leaning against a row of lockers, arms folded, expression carefully casual in a way that put you immediately on edge.
His gaze settled on you in that same attentive way it always did.
"I'm going home now."
His attention flicked briefly to the bandage above your eyebrow.
"Good."
βWhat are you still doing here?β You asked as you turned to open your locker.
Waiting for you, the answer sat heavily on the tip of his tongue.
"Avoiding my plant parent responsibilities." Was what he said instead.
A reluctant smile tugged at the corner of your mouth as you rummaged through your locker.
Frank saw it.
Of course he did.
βI let some old guy convince me to buy a String of Pearls.β
A laugh escaped before you could stop it as you glanced over your shoulder at him.
Something softened in his face immediately, so quickly that it felt almost unfair - like heβd been waiting all day for proof you could still laugh.
βThatβs like the hardest plant to keep alive.β
βI know."
His grin widened slightly.
"I didnβt have you there to talk me out of it.β
βI told you Frank Langdon doesnβt give paternal.β You answered as you shut your locker.
You turned and nearly walked straight into him.
Somehow he'd moved closer.
Standing close enough now that you could see the faint shadow of stubble along his jaw. Close enough to notice the exhaustion etched around his eyes.
For a moment neither of you moved.
Then Frank reached up, his fingertip brushed lightly against the bandage above your eyebrow. The touch was so gentle it almost hurt, enough to make your breath hitch and your pulse stumble.
"It was coming loose." He explained, voice low.
You swallowed as his touch lingered. "Oh."
Frank's attention remained fix on your forehead as he smoothed out the edge.
"Robby did a good job."
"You'd hope so."
His hand lingered for a second longer than necessary, then finally fell away.
Your skin felt cold, like it was automatically starved of his touch.
You hated how aware you were of him.
You took a subtle step backwards, needing to create distance.
For a moment the two of you stood there eyeing each other. The room felt uncomfortably full with all of the unspoken things neither of you seemed capable of saying.
Eventually you gestured vaguely over your shoulder towards the exit.
"I should probably go."
Your voice sounded strange to your own ears.
"Doctor's orders and all that."
Frank shoved his hands into the pockets of his scrub pants, looking away briefly.
βOk."
Something about the way he said it made you pause. He wasn't pushing, wasn't finding another excuse to keep you talking, wasn't trying to make you laugh.
The fluorescent light caught harshly against the tired lines of his face. For once, he didnβt look confident. He didnβt look amused or easy or untouchable. He didn't look like the version everyone else saw.
Instead he looked like someone bracing himself to be left behind.
Your chest pulled tight.
Frank opened his mouth.
For a second you thought he might finally say whatever had been sitting between the two of you for weeks.
βGoodnight.β
You nodded once.
βGoodnight.β
-
Your apartment was quiet when you got home. Oppressively so, like you were being squeezed from all sides and might burst.
You kicked your shoes off near the door and stood there for a moment in the dim entryway light, staring blankly at the unopened mail scattered across the counter and your clean laundry still in its basket from days ago. Everything looked strangely untouched, suspended in time while your life seemed to have detonated somewhere outside of it.
You exhaled slowly and wandered toward the kitchen, your head throbbing faintly as your painkillers wore off. The ache pulsed dully behind your stitches, but it was nothing compared to the pressure that had lodged itself beneath your ribs ever since Javadiβs party.
Your gaze drifted absently toward the fridge as you unscrewed your water bottle.
The photos were still tacked there.
Your stomach twisted.
You needed sleep. Or alcohol. Or to get hit again in the head but hard enough this time to make you slip into a coma.
You made it halfway to your bedroom before coming to a stand still.
The stupidly beautiful stained-glass lamp sat glowing softly in the corner of your living room, casting muted lilac and amber light across the walls.
You still hadnβt confronted Frank about it, mostly because doing so would require acknowledging why he'd bought it.
And acknowledging that felt dangerously close to acknowledging everything else.
You walked over slowly, fingertips brushing lightly against the cool glass petals. The light shifted across your skin.
Your chest tightened unexpectedly.
You tried to push thoughts of him out of your head.
Tried not to think about the way he remembered your coffee order despite complaining about it every single time. Or the way he automatically shifted during procedures because he knew where you preferred to stand. Or the way he always knew when to make a joke or when to leave you to wallow after a bad trauma.
The way he'd somehow inserted himself into hundreds of tiny corners of your life without you ever noticing it happening.
You sat down slowly on the edge of your bed, suddenly feeling the exhaustion of today's shift finally seep into your bones.
Your phone buzzed suddenly beside you, making you jump.
You reached for it automatically.
Three messages from Dennis.
hey sorry if this is weird but i just wanted to make sure your head is ok
Your heart twisted painfully.
Because even now - even after all of this - Dennis was still careful with you. Still giving you space. Still terrified of pushing too hard.
You typed back a quick confirmation that you were fine before tossing your phone further up the bed, unwilling to look at it any longer.
The apartment fell quiet again.
Your hand unconsciously drifted up to your forehead, brushing over your stitches.
Without permission, your brain conjured the memory of Frank's hand ghosting over your skin. The way his eyes locked with yours, the cut of his jaw as he scanned your face for signs of hurt.
You huffed, flopping onto your back. Your hands settled on your stomach as you stared up at your ceiling.
You thought about Dennisβ smile, his big eyes that made him look like a baby deer caught in headlights, the way his hand always hovered just close enough to yours to never quite be touching. The farm. The way he looked at you like you hung the moon.
Then, like always, Frank elbowed his way to the front of your conscious.
The way his eyes seemed to always find yours in any room, locking you in place. The way his hand had brushed your waist in the photo booth, the heat of him radiating into you. The way you were never quite sure what he was thinking when he looked at you.
The way his biceps bulged when he crossed his arms, the way his tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip as he listened to you talk.
The way praise from him somehow mattered more than it should. The way you secretly loved how he treated you differently to everyone else at work. The way your body reacted whenever he was even in the same room as you.
You squeezed your eyes shut, trying and failing to get Frank Langdon out of your head.
Because no matter which direction your mind tried to run, it kept ending up in the same place.
βFuck.β
-
The next few shifts passed the same way all the others had since Javadiβs birthday.
Except now, people's eyes flickered to the stitches above your eyebrow before darting between you, Frank and Dennis. Not obvious enough to call out, but not subtle enough to miss either.
It felt like the whole department was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.
You threw yourself into work with almost frightening determination, clinging to routine like it might save you from having to think too hard. You picked up extra cases before anyone else could grab them, volunteered for procedures, spent longer than necessary updating your notes at the nurses station just so you always had something to look busy with.
It worked with most people.
Not with Frank.
Frank Langdon, unfortunately, had made a career out of noticing things other people missed.
Which meant he noticed the way you suddenly remembered somewhere else you needed to be whenever he entered a room. The way you conveniently found an excuse to swap out on his cases. The way your eyes slid past him whenever he spoke directly to you. The way your body seemed to recognise his presence before your brain did and immediately started looking for an escape route.
And because Frank was Frank, he doubled down. Even worse than he had been before the Ogilvie incident.
Your last name was the first he called when a trauma rolled in, he stood just a touch closer than absolutely necessary as he waited to sub in during compressions, and whenever you got thirty seconds to breathe, he appeared as though summoned by some invisible force neither of you understood.
And every morning, before Shen could reach you, an iced latte with your name scrawled on it would appear somewhere within your line of sight.
You never saw him leave them, but you knew.
By the end of the week you were beginning to suspect he possessed the supernatural ability to sense your exact location at all times.
It was nearing the end of another brutal shift when you found yourself alone in the breakroom trying to force down half a protein bar and enough caffeine to survive the last two hours.
Your body ached. Your feet hurt. Your forehead still throbbed if you bent down too quickly. And emotionally, you felt like someone had scraped you hollow.
The door to the breakroom opened behind you.
You didnβt even need to look up to know it was Frank.
He leaned back against the counter beside the coffee machine, studying you quietly while it brewed.
His arms were folded loosely across his chest, his expression was deceptively casual. His eyes weren't.
"You look exhausted."
"Gee hello to you too." You remarked dryly.
A soft huff of laughter left him at that.
The sound wrapped around your ribs before you could stop it.
"You don't look exactly like the picture of health either."
βYeah, but mineβs from old age and substance abuse.β He tilted his head slightly. βWhatβs your excuse?β
Your lips twitched as you shook your head.
βThereβs something genuinely wrong with you.β
βI know." He nodded solemnly. "I've been diagnosed multiple times.β
A snort escaped before you could stop it.
Something in his expression softened immediately, like every tiny crack in your composure felt monumental to him now.
The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable, which somehow made it worse.
Frank glanced down at the half eaten protein bar in your hand.
βThose things tastes like drywall.β
βYouβve had one?β
βMultiple. I lost a bet to Robby once and had to eat them for a week straight.β
You grimaced.
"That feels like a health risk."
"It was."
Before you could react, Frank leant forward and took a bite out of it while it was still sitting in your hand.
You blinked.
Frank pulled back, chewing thoughtfully. His eyes flicked up to yours as he winced.
"Yep." He said through a mouthful. "Still tastes like shit."
You stared at him.
"You did not just do that."
"Do what?"
You looked down at the mangled remains of your protein bar, then back at him.
"I don't remember consenting to you contaminating my food with your germs."
Frank rolled his eyes. "Oh please."
He pointed at the remaining piece.
"I could physically see you losing the will to live trying to finish that thing."
His hand gestured vaguely.
"I've done you a favour."
You laughed before you could stop yourself. A real one this time, the kind that bubbled out unexpectedly.
Frank grinned as he watched you laugh, like he was committing it to memory.
Like he'd forgotten whatever he was going to say next. Like hearing you laugh after weeks of distance had affected him more than he wanted to admit.
And for a brief moment, everything felt normal again.
Princess suddenly appeared at the doorway, the sound of your last name making you turn.
"Robby's looking for you."
You sighed, tossing the remains of the protein bar into the bin,.
"On it." You nodded.
When you turned back to Frank, his smile had faded. You felt your heart jump in your chest as his gaze met yours.
"I'll see you later."
His gaze held yours for a beat too long. Then he nodded, his Adams apple bobbing as he swallowed. "See you."
-
Two shifts later and you were in the supply closet, trying to find a very specific size of sutures.
Or at least that was the official reason you were there.
Unofficially, you were hiding.
The department had been relentless all day. Every room felt too crowded. Every interaction felt loaded. Every time you turned around it seemed like someone was watching you, waiting for whatever inevitable explosion everyone seemed convinced was coming.
"You know." A voice remarked casually behind you. "At this point I'm starting to think you genuinely hate me."
You nearly dropped the packet of suture kits in your hands.
βJesus Christ.β You muttered, pressing a hand briefly to your chest as you turned to meet Frank's eyes. βDo you always move that quietly or are you doing it on purpose now?β
His mouth twitched.
Not an admission, but not a denial either.
You turned back to the shelves before your traitorous body could react any further.
βIβm serious.β His voice sounded closer this time. βYouβve fled from me four times today.β
You grabbed another box.
βI have not.β
βYou literally turned around mid-conversation with Princess and walked into a curtain.β
Heat climbed your neck.
βThat was unrelated.β
Frank hummed, unconvinced.
βCan I help you with something?β You asked, continuing to inspect shelves that no longer held anything you actually needed.
"Not really, I just like spending my spare time in supply closets."
You shut your eyes briefly.
There it was.
That stupid humour. That effortless ability to slip beneath your defences before you even realised they were lowering.
βFrank.β
His expression softened slightly at your tone.
"Are we going to keep doing this?"
The humour had vanished entirely when you turned around.
"Doing what?"
He shot you a knowing look.
The kind that made you feel far too seen.
The kind that always seemed to strip away every excuse you'd carefully prepared beforehand.
Your cheeks warmed instantly.
"Can we not do this at work?"
"We're always at work." He countered.
"That's not-"
"You've been avoiding me."
"I've been avoiding both of you."
The words came out sharper than you intended.
Frankβs face flickered.
"Yeah, I've noticed."
You swallowed, glancing down at the floor as your chest tightened.
You hated how well he knew you.
You looked at him properly then, frustration finally breaking through.
βWhat exactly am I supposed to do in this situation, Frank?β
Something flashed across his face.
Hope. Even after the party. After the silence. After youβd practically been running from him for over a week.
Frank studied you quietly for a moment before speaking.
βTalk to me.β
The simplicity of it nearly undid you.
Because underneath all the jokes and pushing and relentless attempts to corner you into engaging with him, that was all heβd really been asking for.
Not even to choose him. Just asking to not shut him out.
Your throat tightened painfully.
βI donβt know how to do this without hurting someone.β
For the first time in days, Frank stopped trying to be funny.
The humour left his face completely, exposing something far more dangerous underneath.
"Dragging yourself through hell trying not to make anyone unhappy is only going to hurt everyone else more. Especially you."
The honesty of it landed like a physical blow.
You looked away immediately, trying to ignore the way your heart felt like it was trying to claw its way out of your chest out of your chest.
Before you could spiral further, Frank unexpectedly stepped closer. Close enough that you immediately became aware of every inch separating you.
"What are you doing?"
His arm lifted, resting against the shelf above your head.
"Helping."
Your eyebrows shut up. "Helping?"
His mouth twitched. "You seem stuck."
You hated him. Hated him for making your heart race at the worst possible moments, for looking at you like that, for refusing to let things stay simple.
You forced yourself to jut your chin up to meet his gaze.
"And how is this helping me, exactly?"
Frank's smile disappeared. His gaze dropped briefly to your mouth before returning to your eyes.
The movement sent heat shooting through you.
"Tell me you feel nothing."
"What?"
"Between us." He clarified, his eyes dragging over your face. "Tell me you feel nothing-β He swallowed. β-and that this is all in my head.β
It felt like all the air had been sucked out of the small space in that moment. The mood shifted as any trace of amusement shifted from his features.
βTell me-β He repeated again, his voice quietening to a strained whisper. β-and I'll leave you alone. No more supply closet ambushes, no more coffees, perfectly respectable co-worker boundaries only.β
Your eyes involuntarily dragged from his forearm, to his bicep, all the way to his face, lingering on his mouth.
You swallowed, your pulse roaring in your ears. "Frank-"
"Tell me." And for the first time since you'd known him, it sounded dangerously close to pleading. Like he he needed to hear the confirmation so he could stop hoping, stop waiting.
You froze like a startled deer, your heart pounding in your chest as you felt his arm brush against yours.
βI-β You started, your eyes involuntarily flickering down to his mouth, then back to his eyes.
You felt yourself inch just a touch closer. Barely noticeable, but Frank spotted it, his breathing changing instantly.
βIβ¦β
The door to the supply closet swung open. The spell shattered instantly The sounds of the department rushed in at a brutal pace, the fluorescent lights streaming in.
Frank pulled away immediately, but not quick enough.
Dana stood there, one hand on her hip, brows raised as she glanced between the two of you.
You reacted on impulse.
βFound what I was looking for.β You announced to no one in particular as you blindly snatched a packet of sutures from behind you.
You ducked under Danaβs arm that was leaning on the edge of the doorframe, shooting her a sheepish grin before disappearing with the grace of a newly born lamb.
Dana turned and watched you go before settling her gaze on Frank.
βI was just-β
She raised a hand up to stop him. βI donβt want to know.β
Frank remained exactly where he'd been left standing, staring at the doorway like he could somehow will you back through it.
Then her expression involuntarily softened, letting out a small sigh as she studied his pathetic expression.
"You have to stop playing these games, kid."
Frank looked down at the packet of saline he'd apparently picked up at some point.
He couldn't remember doing it.
"Tell her how you feel."
A bitter smile tugged at his mouth.
"I'm trying."
Dana snorted.
"No. You're flirting."
Frank opened his mouth. Closed it again.
"What's the actual plan here?"
Frank didn't answer. Because he didn't have one.
At first he'd convinced himself that if he was patient enough, funny enough, persistent enough, eventually things would settle. Eventually you'd stop avoiding him. Eventually you'd look at him the way you used to.
But now, he couldn't help but wonder if you'd made your choice. A possibility that had been sitting quietly in the back of his mind for days.
He'd just been trying very hard not to look directly at it.
Dennis. The thought alone made something unpleasant twist in his chest. Kind, safe, the sort of guy people introduced to their parents.
The sort of guy who didn't have entire sections of his life he wished he could erase.
Frank swallowed.
Dana's expression shifted. She'd known him too long, seen too much.
"Tell her."
"What if I'm too late?"
Dana held his gaze.
She didn't tell him what she could see so plainly - that you and him were so clearly inevitable. That you were so clearly scared of the intensity of the connection the two of you shared.
"Then at least she'll know." Was all she said instead.
The words lingered long after she left.
Frank remained standing in the supply closet alone, staring at the doorway you'd disappeared through.
For the first time in weeks, he didn't immediately think about how to get you to talk to him. Or what excuse he could invent to keep you in the same room.
Instead he found himself wondering something far more dangerous. Whether Dana was right. Whether he'd already lost. Whether he'd be able to survive it.
And if he had, whether he was brave enough to tell you anyway.
-
Sleep proved impossible that night.
Your brain felt like someone had thrown every thought, feeling and memory you possessed into a blender and hit start.
You lasted maybe twenty minutes lying in bed before frustration finally forced you upright again.
The apartment was dark except for the lamp.
Soft lilac and amber light spilled across the tiles as you wandered barefoot into the living room, your oversized t-shirt slipping off one shoulder as you passed the couch.
The city glowed softly outside, the muted sounds of cars driving past offering some comfort that there were at least some other people that were still awake.
You were exhausted.
But every time you closed your eyes, your mind immediately betrayed you.
Dennis smiling softly across a diner booth.
Frankβs hand settling beneath your ribs in the photobooth.
Dennis asking if you wanted to come to his farm.
Frank saying I missed you like it had cost him something to admit.
You groaned quietly and dropped face first onto the couch cushions.
The apartment, unsurprisingly, offered no solutions.
After a moment, you rolled onto your back and stared blankly up at the ceiling.
Objectively speaking, the answer should have been easy.
Dennis was kind. Steady. Safe.
He listened carefully when you spoke. He noticed small things. He made space for people. He was one of your best friends. You socialised in the same circle of people. Your lives fit together neatly, logically.
So why did every thought somehow keep circling back to Frank?
Your eyes caught on the book sitting on your coffee table. You reached for it absentmindedly, hoping reading a few chapters might distract you and bring on sleep.
You barely managed to open it before something slipped free from between the pages, falling onto your lap.
Your breath caught.
The spare copy of the photo booth photos you had forgotten to give Frank.
You stared at them in your hand, at the softened edges, the slight bend through the middle from repeated use.
Youβd been using it as a bookmark.
Not consciously. Not deliberately. Just⦠naturally.
A shaky laugh escaped you, the sound swallowed up by the empty apartment.
Your thumb brushed over the image instinctively.
Frank looking at you instead of the camera in each frame, like he physically couldnβt stop himself. And somehow, despite every logical instinct screaming otherwise, you looked at him the same way.
Because heβd seen you at your highs and your lowest of lows in this job. Seen you covered in snot, shivering in the stairwell after one of your first unsuccessful reductions. Seen you on days you weren't particularly likeable. Seen the mistakes, the self-doubt and had just accepted it. Accepted you.
Even now with all of this heβd never made you feel judged. Until Javadiβs, had never taken an opportunity to talk Dennis down, had respected your wishes to leave Dennis alone. All the while hiding his own feelings.
You had no doubt that he would be accepting of you being friends with Dennis. That he wouldnβt treat you any different if you didnβt choose him.
You squeezed your eyes shut.
Because that was the thing you hadnβt fully let yourself acknowledge until now. Frank saw you.
The same way you saw him.
You knew every fault, every ugly scar, every secret and yet, despite that or more correctly because of that, you still wanted him.
And suddenly you understood why youβd been so desperate to avoid him these past weeks.
It wasnβt because you were confused anymore. It was because somewhere deep down, you already knew.
And knowing meant eventually having to say it out loud. Which meant hurting Dennis, risking friendships, changing things.
Your gaze drifted back toward the lamp glowing softly in the corner.
You were tired of this.
Tired of fighting your own reactions to him. Tired of pretending you didnβt feel the atmosphere shift every time he walked into a room. Tired of acting like your pulse didnβt immediately spike whenever he looked at you for too long.
Tired of fighting something that seemed determined to follow you wherever you went.
Tired of pretending that he didn't feel inevitable.
For the first time since Javadi's party, the panic that had been following you everywhere began to loosen its grip.
Not because the situation was any less complicated, but because you finally had the truth.
And as terrifying as it was, there was something strangely freeing about that.
You weren't trying to decide between Dennis and Frank anymore.
You were trying to figure out how to live with the fact that you'd already chosen.
And that was a very different problem.
-
You found Dennis during your next shift without really meaning to.
You had both just come out of back to back traumas, a multiple vehicle collision. Numerous resuscitations, intubations - the works. By the time you finally escaped, your scrubs felt glued to your skin and your head was pounding behind your eyes.
The ambulance bay was meant to be a welcome reprieve. Instead, you stopped short when you found the back of one of the parked ambulances already occupied.
He was sitting on the back step of one of the ambulances, elbows resting on his knees as he stared out across the parking lot. The afternoon sun was beginning to sink lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the concrete.
His curls were messier than usual, flattened in places where he'd clearly been dragging his hands through them all day. There were dark circles beneath his eyes too, the kind exhaustion alone didn't entirely explain.
As if sensing you looking at him, Dennis glanced up.
And froze.
The reaction was subtle enough most people wouldnβt have caught it. But you did.
The way he straightened slightly. The immediate softness in his expression. The almost imperceptible panic that followed right after it.
"Sorry-" You started. "I didn't mean to interrupt-"
"It's fine." Dennis brushed off your apology, gesturing to the space beside him. "You're not interrupting."
He wiped his hands on his scrubs as you came to sit beside him.
The metal beneath you was warm from the sun.
The distant sounds of the pitt drifted through the open bay doors behind you.
"Your cut looks like itβs healing well.β Dennis said after a moment.
"Yeah. Robby would probably kill me if I didn't follow the proper aftercare."
Dennis' mouth twitched, nodding in understanding as he fiddled with his watch strap.
Silence settled awkwardly between you. It was worlds apart to when you'd last been out here, when you'd seen Dennis flex his hand out of the corner of your eye and had wondered if he might take yours in his.
Now it was like both of you were standing on opposite sides of thin ice trying not to crack it further.
βThis is weird.β
You huffed out a laugh.
βYeah it really fucking is.β
Dennis rubbed the back of his neck lightly before speaking again.
"You don't have to worry you know."
Your brows knitted. "What?"
He shot you a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
βAbout me making things harder.β
Your chest constricted painfully.
βDen-"
βNo, itβs okay.β He shook his head gently before you could continue. βI mean it.β
The steadiness in his voice somehow made it worse. Because you could hear how hard he was working to keep it that way.
Your throat tightened.
Because somehow, even now, he was trying to make things easier for you.
βI didnβt want any of this.β
βI know.β
He studied you for a moment.
"That day he came back-" Dennis looked away. βI knew.β
The confession landed softly between you, like something he'd been carrying for a very long time.
You didn't interrupt.
Dennis stared out towards the parking lot.
βYou two have this thing.β
He glanced down briefly, like he was trying to find the right words.
βThe way you look for eachother in a room. The way you somehow always end up next to each other, the way you work like youβre in each otherβs headsβ¦β He trailed off as he swallowed heavily.
You stared at him, unable to speak.
βYou may not realise it yet but...β A sad smile pulled briefly at his mouth. βI think itβs always been him."
Dennis shook his head slightly as glanced down at his hands. "Even if I don't really understand why."
"If it makes you feel any better... I don't understand it either." You murmured after a moment.
There was a moment of heavy silence. You saw something flicker across Dennis' face. Because you hadn't denied it, hadn't tried to explain your actions. You'd only confirmed he was right without actually saying it.
"It doesn't."
The honesty of it landed hard.
When he looked back at you, there was no accusation in his expression. Just vulnerability. Raw and unguarded in a way Dennis rarely allowed himself to be.
"I think... I think I'm going to need some space."
You knew it was coming, but it didn't make the blow land any less heavy.
"Of course." Your voice cracked slightly.
Dennis nodded, more to himself than anything. He glanced down at his hands again, trying to hide the wetness of his eyes.
And suddenly every instinct you had screamed at you to fix it.
You wanted to hug him, to tell him he was one of your best friends and that nothing had to change - but you couldnβt. Because both of you knew that would be a lie.
"I'll always care about you Den."
The second the words left your mouth, you regretted them.
Dennis visibly flinched. Not dramatically, but enough that it felt like watching a bruise form.
"Whitaker." He corrected quietly.
"Please."
Your chest had constricted so sharply you thought it might cave in entirely.
Because you knew he was trying to put distance between himself and something that hurt. Trying to become your coworker again because being your Dennis was no longer an option.
"Whitaker." You repeated quietly.
Dennis looked up at you after a moment.
"I'll always care about you too."
For a second neither of you moved.
Then he let out a long breath and scrubbed both hands down his face.
βEven if your taste in men is objectively questionable.β
That broke the tension just enough for you to huff out a watery laugh.
And even though he smiled again, you could still see the pain written all over his face.
And as you sat beside him in the fading afternoon light, watching him stare out across the parking lot, you found yourself desperately hoping that time would eventually give you back some version of what you'd lost.
-
Despite your conversation with Dennis, you were still doing your best to avoid Frank.
You knew it was unfair, bordering on immature and most definitely cowardly.
The confusion that had been plaguing you for weeks was gone now, replaced by a terrifying sort of certainty that felt infinitely harder to deal with.
Because confusion at least gave you somewhere to hide. Confusion meant you could tell yourself you didn't know. That you needed more time. That eventually everything would sort itself out.
Now you had no such cover. Instead, you now had to figure out how you were going to say the things you wanted to say out loud.
And once you did that, there would be no taking it back.
You lasted exactly three more days before everything fell apart.
You were in the last half of a relatively uneventful shift by pitt standards when Dana asked you (or really, told you) to assess a new patient in room 5.
"Can do." You answered, rerouting to the other end of the hall.
"Langdon's already assessed her in triage."
You ignored the way your stomach fluttered at the sound of his name. God, you were pathetic.
"Thanks."
Princess appeared beside you and handed over a tablet as the two of you headed down the hall.
"Patient is Rosie McLean, 74 years old, came in complaining of intermittent chest pain and general fatigue. Vitals are stable.β
You nodded, flicking through the file notes as Princess opened the door.
"Hi Rosie, Iβm-β
You stopped short for a moment, your name dying on your tongue as you took in the patient in front of you.
It was the lady who owned the vintage store.
Maybe she wouldn't remember you, she must see hundreds of people every-
You watched as her eyes lit up with unmistakable recognition immediately, sparking panic through your entire system.
"I know who you are, you're the lovely girl from the other week." Rosie beamed.
Princess shot you a look that demanded an explanation.
"Rosie here owns a very nice vintage store." You explained in response as you pumped a handful of sanitiser onto your hands. "And helped me decorate about half my apartment."
"You didn't tell me you and your boyfriend were doctors dear." Rosie continued happily.
Princess' head snapped towards you so fast you were surprised she didn't sustain whiplash.
"Boyfriend?"
Fuck.
"He's not my boyfriend." You corrected lightly. "Anyway, should we talk about what's brought you in today-"
Rosie frowned. "What do you mean he's not your boyfriend?"
You laughed awkwardly. "He's just a friend." You insisted, ignoring Princess' eyes practically burning holes into the side of your face.
"Nonsense." Rosie scoffed, waving a dismissive hand
"When that boy came back to buy you that lamp he couldn't stop talking about you." Rosie shook her head, apparently delighted at the idea of having an audience.
"Going on about how you worked so hard and never bought yourself anything nice and that you deserved something beautiful for your new apartment. How he wanted to give you a little piece of himself for your new place."
Your heart was now actively attempting to leave your body.
The room suddenly felt much smaller.
Princess looked moments away from exploding.
Rosie glanced towards her. "Now what kind of friend says that?"
"Not a single one I've ever had." Princess agreed, a smirk so wide it was almost offensive.
"And the way he looked at her." Rosie shook her head. "That's true love my dears."
"I'd pay very good money to see that."
You shot Princess a look, which she very intentionally ignored.
βAnyway." You cleared your throat pointedly. "Letβs get back to-β
The door opened before you could continue.
Your stomach dropped when you locked eyes with Frank.
βSorry to interrupt.β His eyes flickered to Princess. βDid we get those results back yet on our patient in Room 3?β
βNot yet.β Princess answered.
βOk thanks.β
Frankβs eyes lingered on you for a moment.
That was all it took.
"There." Rosie immediately pointed between the two of you.
"See?"
Your soul left your body.
βMeant to be.β
Princess froze, then slowly turned towards you and Frank.
"Wait-" Her eyes widened. βLangdonβs the guy you were in the vintage store with?β
Nobody answered.
"Oh my god."
You wanted the floor to open beneath you. Frank looked like he was considering throwing himself into traffic. And Rosie looked thrilled.
-
You somehow managed to get through Rosieβs consult without anymore mentions of Frank or you collapsing into an embarrassed pile of mush on the floor.
But by the time you were stripping off your gloves, your entire body felt wound impossibly tight.
Because now there was another person that was going to start telling you what you'd already started admitting to yourself.
You threw your gloves into the bin and hurried out of the room before Princess could corner you and demand answers.
You could practically feel her running to tell Perlah everything, which meant that by the end of your shift the entire floor would know.
The pitt suddenly felt far too small.
Your breathing had started to feel strangely uneven by the time you reached the hallway. You turned sharply, heading straight for the on-call rooms.
Just five minutes to yourself, thatβs all you needed.
But of course, that wasnβt what the universe had planned for you.
Youβd barely shut the door behind you when you heard a faint knock.
βYeah?β You called out, unable to hide your exasperation.
βSorry.β
Your stomach flipped violently when the door opened.
βItβs fine.β You said, watching as Frank took that as permission to step inside.
βYou ok?β
The door clicked shut behind him.
βYeah I just-β You inhaled sharply. βDonβt think I was ready for Princess of all people to find all of that information out.β
Frank nodded in understanding, eyes tracking every micro expression on your features.
βI get it, going furniture shopping with me is pretty much rock bottom.β
βYeah that was my cry for help if you didn't realise.β
βI know, thatβs why Iβve booked you in for one of our complimentary psych sessions.β
The tension eased just enough as your mouth curved slightly.
His eyes sparked as he watched your face.
Like always, Frank knew exactly what to say to get you to stop spiralling, to make you feel like you could actually take a breath.
You leant against the hospital bed, crossing your arms in front of your chest.
βThank you.β You said quietly after a moment.
His brows knitted. βFor what?β
βThe lamp. I never said thank you. It's..." You glanced away briefly before looking up at him through your lashes. "It's perfect."
βIt was nothing." He shrugged lightly. "You deserve it."
You studied him for a moment.
βDid you really say all that stuff to Rosie when you went back to buy it?β
"What stuff?"
You shot him a pointed look.
"The stuff about me working hard and deserving something nice."
"Yeah I did."
"Frank..."
"What?"
A smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. "You do work hard and you never buy yourself nice things. The least I could do was buy you that lamp."
The honesty in his voice stole the air from your lungs. Like he couldn't even understand why any of that would be surprising. Of course he'd wanted to give you something that would make you happy.
"And did you say the other thing?"
A faint flush crept up the back of Frank's neck. It was subtle. If you hadn't spent years studying his expressions, you might have missed it entirely.
Frank let out a breathless sort of laugh, dragging a hand over his jaw.
"What? About me wanting to give you a piece of myself for your new place?"
He took a step towards you.
"Because I said that too."
The air shifted between you then.
That dangerous pull that always seemed to happen when the two of you were alone too long.
Frank seemed to feel it too because his expression changed almost imperceptibly, humour fading into something quieter. More vulnerable.
"You know, you never gave me an answer the other day."
βFrank-β
βNo, wait.β His voice came out rougher than intended. Softer. βJust - give me likeβ¦ thirty more seconds before you start avoiding me again.β
You stared at him.
He took your silence as permission to continue.
βI need to say some things. And then you can give me your answer.β
And suddenly all the confidence people associated with Frank Langdon felt paper thin.
Your stomach contorted painfully, your nerves making the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.
βOkay.β You breathed out.
Frank looked down briefly, like he was trying to organise thoughts he usually kept hidden behind jokes and sarcasm and easy charm.
Then he looked back at you.
And for the first time since youβd known him, Frank Langdon seemed genuinely nervous.
βLast year when Robby found the drugs in my lockerβ¦β He swallowed once. βMy first thought wasnβt about my job.β
Your breath caught.
Frankβs eyes stayed fixed on yours.
βIt wasnβt about what other people would think. About the fact I might lose my job or go to prison. About letting Robby down.β
His mouth twisted slightly.
βIt was you.β
Your chest constricted violently.
βAll I could think about was you finding out.β He continued quietly.
Frank laughed softly under his breath, but there was no humour in it.
βI hated the idea of you looking at me differently. Of losing your respect and trust.β His voice roughened further now, every carefully constructed layer of confidence starting to splinter apart in front of you.
βAnd then you showed up at rehab with a bag full of contraband takeout.β
βYou have no idea what I had to go through to sneak that in there by the way.β You joked faintly.
A small smile twisted up on his lips.
βAnd then even after I told you what I'd done, I came back here and you still looked at me likeβ¦β He stopped himself, jaw tightening briefly. βLike I was still me.β
Frank shook his head once, almost frustrated with himself.
βAnd you know what the really fucked up part is?β He asked quietly.
Your stomach flipped.
βWhat?β
βWhen I came backβ¦β He exhaled slowly through his nose. βI saw how much you'd grown, saw the connections you'd made. And I told myself that I'd give you space, that I'd already fucked up my chance."
Your pulse thudded painfully.
βBut then youβd smile at me.β His laugh was quiet and wrecked at the edges. βOr make a joke. Or look at me like my opinion matteredβ¦β He cut himself off briefly. βAnd then I couldn't stay away."
The room felt unbearably warm suddenly, because you knew exactly what he meant.
Frankβs gaze dropped briefly to your mouth before lifting again, restraint visibly tightening through his shoulders.
"And I was too selfish and scared to let you go." He admitted.
That shattered something in you completely.
Because beneath all the teasing and persistence and pushing, you finally understood the truth, Frank hadnβt been chasing you because he thought he was entitled to you. Heβd been chasing you because he was terrified that if he stopped reaching for you, youβd stop seeing him.
You pushed off the edge of the bed to move towards him.
"Luckily for you, that's not your decision to make."
You felt yourself step closer before you consciously decided to.
Frank stilled.
"That thing between usβ¦" You breathed out, your voice quieter now, stripped of all the excuses and deflections you'd been hiding behind for weeks. "Every time I'm in the same room as you, every time I think about you, every time I look at that lamp sitting in my apartmentβ¦"
A helpless laugh escaped you.
"I feel it, Frank."
He looked at you like the ground beneath him had shifted.
His eyes searched your face carefully, as though he was looking for hesitation, for uncertainty, for any sign that you might take the words back.
He didn't find it.
"And I was so scared to admit it." You continued. "Because once I admitted it, it became real. And real meant consequences."
Your eyes drifted briefly to his mouth before finding his gaze again.
"But now I have, I can't fight it anymore."
The corner of your mouth lifted.
"I don't want to fight it anymore."
Every inch of him was focused entirely on you as you took another step closer.
"There's your answer."
Frank looked at you for a long moment.
Like he was trying to convince himself he'd heard correctly. Like he was terrified this was another dream he was about to wake up from.
Then something inside him finally gave way. Pure, overwhelming relief. The kind that came from carrying something heavy for so long you'd forgotten what it felt like to put it down.
He moved, bringing the two of you close enough now that your breath tangled together.
βIf I kiss you right now." He said quietly, voice rough enough to make your stomach flip violently, βI donβt think Iβll ever be able to go back."
Your breath caught.
No games, no ambiguity. Just Frank standing in front of you offering his heart with shaking hands.
"I don't want to go back, ever."
For a second neither of you moved.
The silence stretched between you, heavy with anticipation and relief and every feeling that had been building for months.
Then Frank's hand lifted slowly to your jaw, his touch careful.
You leaned into it instinctively.
And then he kissed you.
The kiss was soft at first, more emotion than urgency, years of friendship and months of longing finally finding somewhere to go. His hand slid from your jaw to the back of your neck as he drew you closer, and the moment your fingers tangled in the front of his scrubs you felt the last of his restraint disappear.
The kiss deepened instantly. Your back met the edge of the hospital bed, Frank stepping closer without breaking the kiss. His hand settled at your waist, squeezing tightly like he was grounding himself just as much as he was grounding you.
When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathing a little harder than before.
Frank rested his forehead against yours and let out a disbelieving laugh.
"Jesus Christ."
A helpless smile spread across your face.
"Yeah."
He pulled back just enough to look at you properly, his gaze moving slowly across your face as though he was committing every detail to memory.
"You're so fucking beautiful."
You actually thought your heart might burst out of your chest at that.
You reached up instinctively, brushing your thumb lightly along the line of his jaw.
Frank's eyes fluttered shut for a moment, blindly finding your other hand and squeezing it gently.
And in that moment, everything finally felt exactly the way it was supposed to.
"Careful Langdon." You murmured after a moment, your tone making his lashes flutter open.
"That's starting to sound like preferential treatment."
His eyes darkened a touch, the Frank Langdon smirk you knew too well reappearing on his lips.
βTrust me, you havenβt seen what actual preferential treatment looks like yet.β He murmured.
βIs that so?β You whispered, nose bumping against his.
He hummed against your mouth, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips.
βWell." You continued, your hands fisting the material of his scrubs again. "You know I've always been a visual learner.β
That was all it took for him to hastily press his lips against yours again.
-
The next few days at the Pitt felt strangely fragile.
Not bad. Not awkward in the catastrophic, world-ending way youβd feared.
Just⦠delicate.
Like the three of you had survived an explosion and were now carefully stepping through the debris trying not to trigger another one.
You knew that Santos knew. You could see it in the way she looked at you, at the disappointment that flashed across her features. That was another unintended fallout that you were desperately trying to piece back together.
You and Frank had decided it was best to keep everything under wraps, which was proving to be impossible because Frank constantly looked like he was visibly restraining himself from touching you.
A few weeks later, the photobooth strip quietly appeared on the inside of Frankβs locker.
Then you started arriving to work together, a coffee already in your hand before Shen could pass you one.
And then one evening Dana caught the two of you making out in Frank's car.
If people hadnβt caught on by then, they certainly had now.
Dennis was still making a very concentrated effort to avoid being alone with either of you for too long. And although it hurt, you understood that he needed a little space to reassemble himself. But, youβd seen flickers of your past friendship emerge in stressful situations - enough to give you hope that things would eventually settle into something comfortable.
Frank understood, even encouraged you to talk about how you missed Dennis being in your life, comforted you when you confided in him.
All of which only made you fall for him harder. Because he was the same calm, secure man heβd always been. Still only wanted whatever would make you happy.
βYouβre staring again.β You muttered under your breath as you updated your charts.
βIβm literally reading a patient file.β
You glanced sideways.
Frank was, in fact, not reading the patient file.
He was looking directly at you over the top of it, staring at you with the same intensity that he always did.
βYouβre annoying.β
βFunny, thatβs not what you said last night.β
Heat flared immediately up your neck.
Unfortunately, McKay happened to be walking past at the same time.
βYou know, thereβs a thing called appropriate workplace behaviour, and this conversation most certainly does not fall into that category.β
Frank grinned unapologetically.
βYouβll survive.β
βI actually might not.β
Javadi snorted beside her.
Frank glanced over at you, shooting you a wink before heading to his next patient. You couldn't hide the smile on your face as you turned back to your charting.
The ease of it startled you sometimes.
How quickly you and Frank had fallen into this.
Or maybe not fallen. Maybe just⦠stopped resisting.
Because now that everything was out in the open, it felt almost absurdly obvious.
The way you automatically orbited each other. The way your humour bounced off each other effortlessly. The way you read each others minds. The way he looked for you in every room like it was instinct.
You noticed all of it now.
And apparently so did everybody else.
βYou know.β Mateo mused later that same shift when he found himself beside you in the breakroom. βI always thought after you and Langdon finally hooked up it would resolve your weird sexual tension, but it just seems to have made it worse.β
You nearly spat your coffee out.
βWhat?β
Mateo shrugged casually.
βItβs almost uncomfortable for the rest of us dude.β
βOh my god.β
From one of the chairs, Princess pointed at you.
βSee? Look how red she gets whenever someone mentions him.β
βI do not-β
βYouβre practically a tomato.β
-
Later, you were back at the nurses station and of course, Frank was hovering nearby.
βEveryone knows.β You murmured low enough to ensure that it only reached his ears, keeping your eyes fixed on the screen in front of you.
βKnows what?β
You could practically hear the smirk in his voice.
βAbout us.β
Frank hummed thoughtfully.
βWell itβs not exactly hard to figure out, what with you practically drooling over me constantly.β
Your lips pursed as you tried to fight a smile.
βDonβt pretend youβre not the obsessed one Langdon.β
βNever said I wasnβt.β He shot back smoothly.
The answer came so quickly that you actually looked up from your screen.
A laugh escaped before you could stop it when he winked at you.
You shook your head and turned back to your computer.
βSoβ¦β He added after a moment. βMine tonight? I may or may not have got a booking at that new place around the corner.β
Your smile widened. βSounds perfect.β
βCool.β
After a moment, Frank's hand brushed yours beneath the desk, the touch brief enough that nobody else would notice.
You glanced sideways instinctively.
Frank was already looking at you.
His mouth twitched slightly when he caught you staring back.
And somehow, for the first time in a very long time, everything felt steady.
Frank glanced down at your hand still resting beside his. Then back at you.
That familiar look settled across his features, the one that had followed you through through years of friendship and months of denial.
The one you'd finally stopped pretending not to understand.
Your stomach fluttered anyway.
βYour staring is becoming a workplace hazard."
Frank's smile widened.
βGuess you'll just have to file another comp claim."
You rolled your eyes.
But your hand turned over beneath the desk, threading briefly through his before one of the nurses called out for Langdon.
And as Frank disappeared down the hallway, you found yourself watching him go.
Halfway down the hall, he glanced back.
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth before he disappeared around the corner.
And despite the chaos unfolding around you, you found yourself smiling too.
Because after months of fighting it, denying it and overthinking it into oblivion, you'd finally stopped asking yourself what if.
Finally stopped running from it and started running towards it.
Towards him.
And now, you didn't think you ever wanted to stop.
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