this blog will probably be mostly the pitt as of right now, but i am going to follow my whims and post about everything i enjoy ever whenever i please!
Hi friends I’m sorry for disappearing but I’ll be back fully soon I’m working on a part two to movie night and also a best friend! Dennis x reader hopefully coming soon… sorry for my absence!!!
description: you think frank langdon hates you. a mandatory attendance gala changes that.
9:17 PM.
You stare at the watch of the man standing next to you. He’s been chatting your ear off for 20 minutes now, and you’ve only been at this gala for probably half an hour. Half an hour of standing in this uncomfortable dress, just a few hours after ending a long shift at the PTMC. You’re well into your third year of residency, which specifically means you have to show up to the annual gala. A large room full of rich assholes, and it's your job to be charming enough to convince them to donate more.
Your heels dig into your ankles as you continue to zone out on the conversation you’ve found yourself stuck in. Your eyes focus on the door, watching as Trinity walks into the room, all dressed up. You suppose that's an upside to this event, getting to see your friends all dressed up. With her entrance, you politely excuse yourself from the man talking at you, and cross the room to her.
“Look at you Dr. Santos, all dressed up!” You joke as she rolls her eyes.
“God, how long have you been stuck here all alone? This is fucking miserable.” She laughs, falling into step with you as the two of you begin to circle the ballroom.
“Maybe like half an hour? I keep getting stuck in conversations with rich old men.”
“That could be good for you y’know? Find a new lover.” She pokes your side.
“I don’t think the sugar baby life is for me.” You quickly realize that the two of you have found your way to the bar, and Trinity orders drinks for the both of you. You’ve been on enough drinks after work trips with her for her to know your drink of choice. She turns to you.
“Have you seen anyone else yet? I think Huckleberry will be here in like 20.” She asks, scanning over the ballroom searching for a familiar face.
“I think I saw Robby walk in, but I haven’t really been paying much attention.”
She groans.
“This is gonna be so boring.”
9:47 PM.
You see the time on Samira's phone, looking at it sitting on the countertop next to the sink in the bathroom. She's wearing a beautiful gown, and you’ve probably complimented her 8 times already tonight. The two of you are in the bathroom helping Victoria pin her gown back into place, after the tiniest of tears appeared on the back of her dress.
“It's gonna be fine, I have a few safety pins in my purse.” You say, ruffling through your bag, pulling out pens and all of the other items you have stuffed in there, and splaying them all over the counter. You finally find the safety pins, and present them with a flourish. Samira holds the dress together as you pin it into place, then you both step back to let Victoria look at it in the mirror.
The three of you adjust your outfits in the mirror quickly, and head back out to the bustling ballroom. The gala has definitely improved as more of your coworkers began to show up, but there are still a few familiar faces missing. Most notably, Frank Langdons. Not that you were complaining, he's been an asshole to you for the last couple of years of your residency, but you wouldn't be opposed to seeing him in a tux. You may not be the biggest fan of Langdon, but you aren’t blind, he's a very attractive man.
As you scan the ballroom, your eyes are drawn to a small group gathered around the front. Dana, Robby, Mel, and Frank stand in a small circle, laughing together. You were right, he does look great in a tuxedo. His hair is styled in the same way it always is, maybe he's used just a bit more gel than usual. His tux seems perfectly tailored to him, he looks incredibly smart. You realize you’ve been staring for a moment too long when you realize he's staring right back at you. You quickly turn around, focusing on the drink in your hand.
Getting caught staring at Frank Langdon was not how you wanted this to go. Your plan had been to completely avoid him the whole night, not to give him another reason to make fun of you. You distract yourself, watching your coworkers embarrass themselves on the dance floor. Eventually, Trinity drags you and Dennis onto the dance floor, where the three of you end up just holding hands and spinning each other. You can’t help but glance over at Frank every time you catch a glimpse of him.
10:11 PM.
You’ve finally escaped the dance floor, taking a moment to catch your breath on the sidelines, sipping a glass of water. You laugh quietly to yourself as you watch Trinity try to convince Dana to come dance. You feel fabric brush over your bare arm, and reach up to adjust the strap of your dress, turning to look over at whoever has come up next to you. You are completely surprised to see Frank, staring straight ahead. You choke a bit on your water, which causes him to turn back at you. You feel your face heat up slightly.
“You okay?” He asks, quirking an amused eyebrow at you. You nod, unable to look away from him. The two of you have reached a slightly awkward standstill, where you are stuck staring into each other's eyes, the moment charged. You cough, breaking away from the eye contact.
“You look…nice.” He stifles out. It feels almost like the two of you have decided to be dates to the middle school dance, and he's not quite sure how to compliment you. But it's not like that, because you’re coworkers and he seems to not be fond of you.
“Uh, thanks. You too.” You choke out.
“Yeah I noticed you checking me out earlier.” He says, a small playful smile on his lips. You roll your eyes, scoffing a bit.
“I wasn’t checking you out, you’re so full of yourself.”
“Totally were.”
“Can I help you Dr. Langdon?” You ask. He's quiet for a moment.
“Do you want to dance?” He asks, barely meeting your eyes. You furrow your brows, feeling a bit confused about the whole situation.
“What?” You look up at him, staring at him. He just rolls his eyes, and holds out his hand for you, which you reluctantly take, allowing him to gently pull you onto the dance floor in the middle of the room. There are mish-mash couples all over the room, but the one that seems to draw the most eyes is you and Langdon. Trinity cocks an eyebrow at you from across the room as Frank places a hand on your waist, beginning to sway back and forth with you. You have a hard time meeting his eyes, knowing he's staring at you. You find comfort in taking in all the details on his suit.
“I don’t really understand why you want to dance with me.” You state, still not quite meeting his eyes.
“I think it's pretty obvious.” He retorts, pulling you slightly closer to him, placing a hand on your jaw to move you to meet his eyes, before dropping his hand. You just stare at him, somehow looking even more confused.
“Um, maybe I'm just misunderstanding everything ever, but I was under the impression that you didn’t really like me all that much.” You say, feeling confident enough to look him in the eyes.
“No. I like you plenty. I’m much nicer to you than anyone else.” He says, spinning you around. You scoff.
“Your version of being much nicer is still being an asshole Langdon.”
“Frank,” he corrects, “and I definitely like you.”
“I think you are extremely confusing.” You say, and he smiles. A real smile.
“You’re beautiful. Smart. Funny. What's not to like?” He says. You have a confused look in your eyes, but a smile plays at your lips.
“I think you’re an asshole, Frank. But I’m not opposed to giving you a chance to change my mind.”
“I suppose this dumb event was worth something then, huh?”
a/n: this is so so so shitty but i just wanted to get it out and over with so i can start working on my actually good and thought out ideas.
Summary- You were best friends with Frank Langdon all throughout med school, and sometime thereafter, before you took up residency in New York City. Many years and mistakes later, you return to PTMC. What could go wrong?
Contains- kissing, discussions of frank's addiction, patients with addiction, show typical cases, cases involving children
A/N- divider from @wispyxfae!
Your heart beats in your ears, the nostalgic flourescence of PTMC's lights hum overhead as you enter the E.R. It's only 8:00 a.m., but the hospital is already buzzing with activity, like it's never slowed down. If you remember correctly, it probably hasn't.
Your heart beats in your ears, the nostalgic fluorescence of PTMC's lights hum overhead as you enter the E.R. It's only 8:00 a.m., but the hospital is already buzzing with activity, like it's never slowed down. If you remember correctly, it probably hasn't.
Dana greets you with a big squeeze, fondness in her tone as she shows you around, updating you on the slight differences that have shifted your former workplace in the past five years.
The work starts immediately, just as you expected. You hop on to various cases, introducing yourself to the new doctors and interns, while reuniting with some of your superiors who were there when you were just a intern.
The thought of your intern days makes your heart race, the thought of seeing a certain doctor nearly stopping you in your tracks. You absolutely loved your time as a intern doctor at PTMC, and part of that had to do with a certain doctor.
You haven't seen Frank Langdon in years He was your best friends for years, and you haven't seen him since you left to begin your pediatric residency in New York. The unknown is what shakes you, a shiver unzipping down your spine at all you'd missed.
You know he got married, a fact you've spent five years grappling with, though you had no right to. You know he has two kids, a fact he proudly boasts on his social media- the 'daddy' friendship bracelet made your insides turn.
It hurts your heart to think that your friendship has been numbed down to such niceties- birthday texts and likes on Instagram now taking place of the late night talks you shared in your internship, laughing late into the night over bowls of cheap Chinese food.
You're older now, though. Different. He is too.
Thankfully, you don't get much time to dwell on it as a family makes its way through the front doors. You jump into action immediately, clocking the distressed children, no older than 2 and 5, dragging their despondent mom into the E.R.
You get onto the older child's level, crouching down in your pink scrubs. You give him a kind smile and a wave, your eyes trying to convey as much safety as possible.
"Hi!" You chirp softly, giving them your name. "What's your name?"
"Joanie," she sniffles, eyes wide and glossy. Your heart breaks a little.
"Hi Joanie, that's a beautiful name," you say, and she smiles through her tears.
"What do we have here?" You freeze at the familiar voice creeping up behind you, unable to turn around to face Frank, moving the mom into a gurney.
You stand up, eyes locking with him in a time stopping moment. His blue eyes are a gut punch, all the work you thought you did in moving on completely undone with one glimmer. Your heart races, pumping against your ribcage so hard it's almost painful.
He raises his brow, that same attitude ever present. You can't help but smile softly, spurring his own. You put in more effort than you deem necessary to pull yourself out of a Langdon-smile induced haze, blinking sharply and turning your gaze back to Joanie.
"This is Joanie, she brought her mom and her little brother in. It's looking like Mom isn't feeling well, right?" You ask her gently, and she nods shyly.
Your heart aches for her scared expression, and you crouch down again, holding out a tentative hand. She accepts it, squeezing hard.
"Hi Joanie," Frank says, kneeling on one leg to look at her in the eye. "I'm Dr. Langdon, I'm gonna take good care of your mom, okay?" He sounds assured, confident in that Langdon way you know all too well.
She nods, curling into you slightly. His smile softens at the sight, sweet, round eyes finding yours. They're shining with pride, though you can't seem to accept that it has anything to really do with you.
It takes a moment for you to process the scene unfolding before you. You and Langdon, working together again, crowded around this poor child. You can't help but think about what passersby might think, that she's your child, that Langdon's yours, that you're a family.
God, it's only been one hour into your first day back and you're already delusional, using a literal traumatized child to feed Langdon induced delusions.
You turn your attention back to the girl, giving her all you have so you have nothing left for Frank.
"Let's let Dr. Langdon help your mom, okay?" You ask, and she nods. "I'm going to take you and your brother into another room to make sure you guys are okay. Is that alright?"
She's hesitant, you can see it in her sad eyes as they flit to her near unconscious mom wriggling around on the gurney that Langdon has taken charge of. He's checking her pulse, her BP, making sure her eyes are reactive. Soon, he's rolling her away, maneuvering through the crowded E.R.
Joanie tries to follow, but you stop her with a gentle clutch to her shoulders.
"Sweet girl, I know it's scary, but you have to let Dr. Langdon check on your mom all by himself. You can do it," you reassure her, wiping away a stray tear with your thumb.
"I'm scared," she blubbers, and you squeeze her shoulder lightly.
"I know, sweetie. It's so scary, but you did so good. I'm going to be by your guys' side the whole time, okay?" You say, turning your attention to the brother now, too. His little thumb is tucked into his mouth, a small blanket with an attached rabbit tucked into his neck.
"What's your brother's name?" You ask Joanie, a sweet smile on your face.
"Theo," she says, voice still shaky.
"Hi Theo," you say, smiling at him. Your arm is still wrapped around Joanie, and you reach your arm out for him now, too. "I'm here to help you guys, okay?" He nods slightly. "I have a really cool room to show you guys," you say, voice enticing enough to get their attention.
"Cool?" Theo babbles out, and your heart wrings out like a wet rag.
"Yeah!" You smile. "There's all these pictures of cool animals, just like your bunny!"
His gaze snaps down to the stuffie in his arms, reaching out to take your hand soon after. You lead them both to the pedes room, shutting the door. Now that you're alone in a quiet room, the weight of the situation sinks on you like an elephant.
You take in these poor kids, shaking, dirty, and terrified. You smile despite your aching chest. This is the job you signed up for, you can't break down on the first day.
You snap on some gloves, rolling towards them on your stool. You ask for permission to begin your check up, scanning for any signs of abuse or injury.
Thankfully, there's no broken bones or immediate injuries. You do, however, find bruises littering both of their chests, necks, and arms. You force yourself to blink away tears, pressing down lightly on a bruise to see how they react.
Joanie flinches and hisses, and you mutter out a, "I'm sorry, sweet girl. You're doing great."
"Do you promise?" She asks, tears streaming relentlessly down her cheeks. You nod, rubbing your thumb on her hand.
There's a knock at the door soon after, and you can see the outline of Langdon's frame through the little window. Your heart catches at the sight, one you thought you'd never see again.
You pop the door open slightly, sticking your head out with a forced smile plastered on your face. It's still hard to see him after all this time. You take him in, the more prominent frown lines, the creases by his eyes, his mouth. His chin dimple hasn't changed, and that makes your heart swell a little.
"Hi," you breathe into the thick, tense air.
"Hi," he says back, just as breathless. You look at each other a moment, heart skipping a beat under his weighted gaze.
After a moment, his breath catches in his throat, eyes reverting back to the chart in his hand. He lifts a hand to scratch at the back of his neck, a nervous tick you remember from med school. You let yourself smile at the familiar gesture.
"Mom has tested positive for multiple drugs. We're getting social work down now. How are the kids?" He asks, his voice hushed.
Your eyes fall shut in disappointment, your heart sinking at the thought of these kids being subjected to such things.
"They're okay. No prominent injuries, but there are multiple bruises on both of them. Wrist, neck, and chest mainly," you tell him.
You watch him shift at this news, avoiding eye contact in an unusual way, his hand reaching back up to the nape of his neck. Your lips twist downward lightly, brows knitting together in concern.
"You okay?" You ask him, willing yourself to sound the least bit casual.
"Yeah," he nods, "yeah, 'm fine." He turns to walk away before you can ask anything else.
You shrug, shutting the door and turning back to the kids.
"Can we go see Mommy now?" Joanie asks, trembling slightly.
You smile at her. "Of course we can."
Kiara is already there when you arrive, a child holding each hand. Joanie is brave, running toward her mom's bed and clinging herself there. Theo chooses to stay by you, his little fist gripping your scrubs. You place a gentle hand on his head, and you see Langdon follow the movement from the corner of your eye.
She begins to ask the kids questions, probing Joanie for more information on her mom's addiction. Your eyes flit to Langdon's as she begins to describe what her mom does at home- erratic mood swings, violent tendencies, sleeping too much.
You watch Langdon fiddle with his plastic gloves, a pinch and release, pinch and release. Confusion pricks at your gut again, this unfamiliar behavior from him oddly surprising. You know it shouldn't be. You'd abandoned your friendship, and by extension, him. when you left. You had no intention of seeing him again. This very well could be behavior he picked up while you were not there.
However, there's a small part of you saying that's not the case. There's something more happening, you just don't know what.
You stay with Theo, holding on to him as Kiara finishes her standard set of questions. Once she's done, you and Langdon are both dismissed to go help other patients. You can't help but notice the speed with which he snaps off his gloves, his left ring finger noticeably bare.
Your eyes widen at the sight, heart dropping into your stomach as you watch him stalk off, his speed unusually fast, even in an E.R.
You give Theo's hand a squeeze, along with Joanie. You let them know you'll be here all day in case they need you, but that Kiara is going to take good care of them. Kiara nods at you, and you take off in Langdon's direction.
You just barely catch his slim frame slip through the door to pedes. You couldn't stop yourself from making your way there if you tried. Your palms sweat as you step closer and closer, your feet moving before your brain can talk yourself out of it.
You only stop when you reach the door, fist lifted in a knock that you can't quite seem to complete. You jump when the door swings open, gasping as Frank's head pokes out in the same way yours did earlier. You've always been mirrors of each other.
"I could see you in the hallway. What do you want?" He asks, and it's blunt. Not mean, but straightforward in the way that Frank can be.
"I just wanted to check on you. That case seemed to bother you," you say, trying not to push his boundaries.
His eyes find the floor, scuffing his shoes against the linoleum tile. He stays silent, but moves out of the way, allowing you inside.
You squeeze your way in, pressing your back against the door to shut it. It's silent for a while, comfortable and loaded at the same time- if that's possible.
Looking at Frank, it's like no time has passed. He paces, the same way he would when at risk of failing a class or exam, plowing ten fingers through his dark hair as he breathes heavily.
Your heart clutches at his obvious anxiety, each rapid beat against your ribs like a bat to a ball.
"What's wrong, Frank?" You whisper, and he finally stops.
He faces you, eyes glossy.
"I'm a recovering addict," he murmurs, and your mouth falls open.
Time stops in that moment, your ears ring and your stomach burns with white hot anxiety. Frank? An addict? You couldn't believe what you were hearing. Though, you suppose the vice grip of addiction wrings out unsuspecting people all the time.
"Frank-" you start, but he holds a hand up, stopping you. He still can't look you in the eye.
"It's been a year and a half since I got out of rehab. I was in there for an addiction to benzos. I was stealing from patients, making horrible decisions, and put my career and life at risk," the confession spills from his lips, breaking your heart.
You can't believe you weren't here for him, weren't able to be a system of support for him. Your guilt is nearly suffocating, wrapping its ghostly hands around your neck and squeezing, tighter and tighter.
"I'm sorry," you choke, unsure of what else to say.
"Really?" He asks. "That's all you got?"
You nod. "I-I guess."
"You guess," he smiles sardonically to the floor. "You were my best friend- you-"
"I'm sorry," you cut him off, holding your own hand up now, "best friend? Frank, I think we both know it was more than that."
"Was it?" He asks, voice growing a bit louder.
Your heart pounds in your chest, anxiety and nerve bubbling in your stomach like bad stew.
"Yes," you breathe, barely able to look at him.
He scoffs maliciously, rolling his eyes at your response. Guilt splits open your gut, all of your once repressed Frank-related emotions spilling out like garbage on an open road.
"That's really rich, actually. Are we remembering that night differently?" He asks, tone agitated, eyes wild.
"Frank-" you blubber, the situation wildly spiraling out of your control. "We were just kids, I had no idea what I'd wanted."
It was a feeble thing to say, and you know it. Frank knows it too, another sarcastic laugh slicing through the room.
"Really? It seems to me like you wanted to go to New York and not tell me. It seems to me like you wanted a different experience that had nothing to do with me. It seems to me like you wanted to outrun something you were scared of," his accusations are pointed, harsh, but not false.
"I wasn't afraid of anything!" You exclaim, the false defense spilling from your lips before you can stop it.
"Really?" He asks, disbelief coloring his near erratic tone. "So you weren't afraid to ditch me and our six year friendship? You weren't afraid to deny the invitation to my wedding? You weren't afraid to tell me you loved me back? That was easy for you, is that what you're telling me? You weren't afraid of any of it?"
His questions hang in the air, a spider spinning a vicious web of destruction. Tears prick your eyes like pin needles, sharp and stinging. You think back to that night, two weeks before you left.
You and Frank had just finished your internships, popping open a bottle of cheap champagne in your dingy apartment to celebrate. You took a sip, looking at your best friend, heart beating a mile a minute.
The sight of him was enough to render you speechless, to turn your knees into jelly. You loved him, you knew this. The fact rested heavy on your chest, neighboring the offer to complete a pediatric residency at New York Presbyterian. These two things were at constant battle in your head, your heart.
Your skin heated as he leaned closer to you, his bleary eyes sleepy, smiley, and so happy. It broke your heart. You had to break the news to him somehow.
"Frank, there's something I have to tell you," you started, sitting up to face him head on.
"Wait," he said, stopping you. "Me too. Let me go first."
Your eyes went wide, heart anchoring the bottom of your stomach. You had no choice to let him go, unable to form words to stop him.
"Ever since we sat next to each other on that first day of med school, I knew you were different. I knew that you were special. I was right. You are the smartest, prettiest, funniest person I know. I like you, and I have a feeling you feel the same way about me. What's say we give it a try? Take this to the next level?" He asked, and your mouth went dry.
Your lips parted, panic seeping through every inch of your body. Tears instantly sprung to your eyes, your sunken heart breaking clean in two.
"Frank-" You started, but he stopped you again.
"I know it's kind of crazy, I mean, you're my best friend, but I think if we were more than that, we'd be unstoppable. What do you think?" He said, chest heaving up and down.
Silence had hung over you like a wet blanket, heavy and uncomfortable. You were unable to think of what to say, how to respond. So you didn't.
You remember the way his face had changed, the confidence in his eye slowly faded to a sad, conceded gaze that still haunts you to this day.
"Say something," he breathed, desperate. You squeezed your eyes shut, the last in tact pieces of your heart giving up.
"I was offered a pediatric residency at New York Presbyterian. I'm going to take it," you whispered, his eyes darted up to yours immediately.
"What?" He said, chest heaving even heavier now. "When were you going to tell me this?"
"Soon," you'd said, tears streaking your cheeks. You'd meant it, though you knew how shitty it sounded.
"Soon?" He repeated, incredulous. "How soon is soon? When do they want you to start?"
"In three weeks," you murmured as shame crept up your spine. He threw his hands up in frustration, and it felt like your heart had been bruised.
"I didn't want to hurt you, Frank. I didn't know how to tell you, but it's such a good opportunity," you blubbered, fully crying at that point. "They have the best pediatric program in the country, you know that, Frank!"
You knew your attempts to reason with him were feeble, unnecessary. The damage had been done. There was no going back.
He'd sighed in defeat, his eyes boring into his shoes that scuffed against your hardwood. He shook his head, grabbing his jacket and heading for the door.
Panic had rushed through you then, you remember it to this day, your entire world walking out on you.
"Frank!" You exclaimed, but he just opened the door and slammed it behind him without another word.
"Langdon," you say now, a hand on your hip, "you were the one that walked out on me, if you can remember. You were the one that refused to talk things out with me."
"Well, God forbid I needed time to heal from my best friend shattering my heart!" He throws his hands up in exasperation, and he looks so much like he did that fateful night you almost cry.
"How did we end up back here?" You whisper, your life feeling cynically cyclical now.
"I don't know, but maybe we should just leave each other alone," he suggests, and you snap your teary eyes up to meet his.
His hands are covering his face, and you realize this is the first time you're seeing him today without gloves. Abby divorced him. Your lips fall open, and you have to quell the swelling of hope in your chest. You know that's an inappropriate reaction to such information, but you can't help it. You love him. You think maybe you always have.
"You really think so?" You ask, a single tear spilling over your lash line. His face contorts, just for a moment, and you think he might still love you too.
But then he nods, agreeing.
"Yeah, I mean, look at us. We can't even be in the same room as each other without getting into it like this. I think that we should keep things strictly professional," he says, eyes boring into yours, though they're hesitant, unsure.
"Professional," you echo, and he nods again.
You jump at a knock on the door, Dana's muffled voice filtering through the room.
"We good in here? I got a baby that needs a check up," she says, and you wipe the tear off your cheek, spinning on your heel to open the door.
"We're fine!" You chirp, a fake smile plastered on your face. "Just wrapping up our most recent patient. Here you go!" You stride past her, hoping your false confidence is blinding enough to rob her of any suspicion.
Of course it doesn't, you know Dana, and she knows you. Specifically, she knows you and Langdon. Together.
-
The past few weeks avoiding Langdon have been strainful at best. Thankfully, you enjoy your work, sinking your teeth in almost too deep some days. Today is one of those days, one that seems to drag on for hours on end, You hunch over your rolling desk in pedes, scribbling furiously on a note pad, documenting each detail of your last case.
Three children involved in an accident including a hot stove and a boiling pot. You cringe as you jot down the details, reaching for the slender can of your energy drink. It's power is futile at this point, you're so tired that it doesn't make a difference.
You rub your eyes, afraid that if you keep them closed too long, you'll fall asleep where you sit. The click of the door opening jerks you back to life, flinching as your eyes readjust to the beating overhead lights.
Langdon walks in, frantic and searching. He freezes when he sees you though, and you're both slack jawed and stupid. You can't keep your eyes off him, and every moment he stares back helps you breathe a little easier.
"Why are you still here?" He bites out. It's gruff, but there's a hint of concern. Some things never change.
"I got caught up with a case. Took a lot out of me. Kiara's got them now, and I hate to say that I'm relieved," you reply sheepishly.
You're so tired, you can't seem to care about restricting yourself in front of him. It's Langdon, for Christ's sake.
"You need to stop doing that," he says, rummaging through the cabinets and drawers. "You're going to burn yourself out."
"Yeah, I think I'll be fine…" you trail off, brows furrowed.
You get off your stool, your back sore from your horrible posture. Your back arches in a stretch, a soft squeak popping from your mouth at the feeling.
Langdon pauses again, eyes on you. You see his gaze flit from your face to the sliver of skin on your tummy, exposed from your scrubs riding up. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip before returning to your eyes.
"What are you looking for?" You ask, clearing your throat. It slices through the tension only for a moment, your heart racing the second it's quiet again.
"An extra pulse ox," he remarks, opening and closing with abandon. "We have a patient out there who is having an allergic reaction."
"A patient? A child?" You ask, and he doesn't answer. That's a yes.
"Let me help you," you say, maneuvering around him to find what he needs.
You try to ignore his breath on your neck as you wiggle your way between him and the counter, his fingers brushing yours as you hand it to him. God, you're no better than a teenager.
"No, Dana's on it," he says, accepting the supply and immediately darting for the door. "Go home," he says, eyes narrowed, and then he's gone again.
You stare at the now shut door, slack jawed and bleary eyed. The tangy fizz of your energy drink slides down your throat as you slam your notebook closed, making your way back into the E.R. to assist Langdon.
His pointed gaze stuns your heart, blue eyes piercing through you like a sword. You watch his lips roll inward, his flat expression saying more than words could. Go home, rest, take care of yourself.
It makes you feel sick.
"Hi!" You chirp to the family waiting for you. Your eyelids are heavy, and you're pushing through sheer, bone crushing exhaustion just for the thrill of being in Langdon's vicinity. The adrenaline alone is enough to keep you afloat.
You introduce yourself to the weeping mother, cupping her trembling hands with a grace and ease that leaves Langdon staring. You feel his eyes burning through you, and a sharp wave of de ja vu overtakes you. You've always been able to feel it, him.
You're up close with him now, and for the first time since you've been back, you really see him. The passing of time etches itself in the lines of his face,. in the deep, dark discoloration under his eyes, the tired droop weighing down his long lashes.
His lips twitches upward, a telltale sign that he's on his brink. Guilt swirls in your stomach, you were gone. He was in rehab, and you were gone. This fact lives in a timeline you thought would never exist five, ten years ago. Your heart squeezes in your chest at all you'd missed.
Your head snaps up at the squeak of footsteps approaching. A stumbling man makes his way through the E. R., bumbling his way to the frazzled woman to your right.
"Oh, God," you hear her groan, and you instinctively step between him and her.
"Hello, Sir," you say, a bit cold. "Can I help you?"
"This…" he slurs, eyes crossing, "'s my kid. Needa make sure she's okay."
You hear the mom scoff behind you, poking her head out from behind you.
"Your kid? Your kid?" She says, fire lacing her voice. "The only reason she's even here is because of you! Because you were too drunk to realize she'd gotten into the peanuts!"
Your stomach drops, a gutting plummet like you're on a roller coaster. Your eyes flit over to Langdon, who's training his gaze on the tile below him. Your heart sinks at the purse of his lips, his telltale sign of holding back tears.
"Hey!" The man shouts, attempting to move you out of the way. If it were anybody else, you'd feel threatened, but this man is so drunk, he can barely move your arm out of the way. "She's my kid just as much as yours, dammit!"
A large hand wraps around his shoulder, Langdon maneuvering him out of the way with ease.
"Listen," Langdon says, calm and collected, but stern all the same. "You stay away from this woman and child, before I get security to remove you. Hell, I'll do it myself if I have to. And you definitely, definitely don't want to be putting your hands on the doctors that are trying to help you."
He punctuates this with a shove, sending the man to the family room. His manhandling makes your heart flutter, butterflies unleashing within you at his initiative.
You turn back towards the mom, who's hands are still shaky, tears spilling over her lash line. You give her your kindest smile, her instant relaxation like an antidote for your nerves.
"I'm sorry about that," she blubbers, and you shake your head.
"Not at all, ma'am," you respond, just as Kiara approaches.
You smile and give her a quick debrief, and she takes the mom to meet with the dad in the family room.
Langdon returns soon after, his gait tough, his gaze harsh. He snaps on some gloves as he checks on the girl, now unconscious, but healthy. He runs some vitals, checks her pulse, then throws himself in the chair next to her bed.
You watch him, sliding the curtain shut before sitting next to him. You sit there in silence for a moment, watching his leg bounce up and down, up and down. You take another moment to watch him, how he snaps the rubber band on his wrist, his excessive blinks towards the ceiling.
You place a gentle hand on his knee, slowing his anxious bouncing. He turns to look at it, his whole body going completely still at the gesture. You see the color drain from his face, his lips rolling in on themselves.
He stands suddenly, swinging open the curtain and returning into the hectic space of the E.R. You also stand soon after, but are glued to your spot. You watch him make his way back to pedes, your heart pounding in your ears at the sight. Something's wrong, maybe you shouldn't have touched him, maybe you'd crossed a line.
You spot Samira at one of the charting stations, and ask her to cover for you while you're gone. You barely wait for an answer as you follow Langdon's previous steps, walking into pedes without even knocking on the door.
You stop in the doorway when you see him curled in on himself, shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Your heart feels like there's a nail in it, each cry pounding it in deeper with a hammer.
You let the door shut behind you, the click of the latch alerting him to your presence. He snaps his head up, and his piercing blue eyes freezing you in place against the door.
"It could've been me," he blubbers, wiping his eyes with the heel of his palms. "That dad- he- his daughter almost died because he was drunk. That could've been me, it could've been my- oh my God," he crumples again, curling into himself, tugging on his hair until it stands straight up.
You don't say anything, just make your way over to the wall where he sits, sliding down the wall next to him. You don't touch him this time, instead wait for him to come to you.
"I was stealing meds from patients," he confesses, and your heart drops.
You close your eyes, guilt coiling itself around your throat like a snake. A tear slips down your cheek, and you wipe it away with your fingertips.
"Frank…" you whisper, and he lets out another cry.
"I was in rehab for ten months. Abby left before I came back. I only see the kids on the weekends," he admits, his head coming up from between his knees.
"I'm so sorry I wasn't there, Frank," you say, and he just shakes his head.
"I would've just let you down," he says, defeated. "I let everybody down. You're better off without me in your life."
His words break your heart, the final nail in your coffin.
"Frank, that's just not true. You're my oldest friend, and I should've never left. I'm so sorry I couldn't be there. I'm never going to judge you, you know that, right?" You say, and now his hand finds yours.
Your heart stops, electricity zapping from his touch up your arm, lighting your whole body on fire. He squeezes. Your heart kicks into gear, nearly flying in your chest.
The past fifteen years flash through your mind- meeting him at med school, your internship at PTMC, you leaving, his marriage, it all led you back here anyways.
"I'm sorry," he whispers, a sad laugh blubbering out. "I think- there's just been so many cases of parents with addictions lately, I guess it got to me. I don't know."
The room falls silent then, the storm clouds of what was just said hanging over you, dark and low. Your heart starts to race as you register his proximity. You haven't been this close to Frank Langdon in years. Your thigh is touching his, and it makes you want to explode.
"It's okay, you know I understand," you say, keeping your eyes straight forward. If you look at him, you'll do something you might regret.
"It's been a lot," he says, swallowing down the emotions. "Coming back, having to face all of this again. Sometimes I still don't think I'll ever be ready for it."
"I know what you mean. I saw some horrific things out in New York," you admit, and you feel his eyes on you. "Children, babies with nowhere to go, no one to take them, teenagers who were abandoned at the most vulnerable point in their lives. This job takes a lot from you, and sometimes it can get on top of you. Don't let that weigh you down now, though. You'll never heal that way."
You finish by finally, finally looking at him. His face is water in the desert, the dawn after the dark. You smile, a sad one that doesn't quite reach your eyes. Your heart is being tugged every which way, guilt and shame and love. The feelings wrap around your organs like ghosts, pulling you back into the past.
"Thank you," he murmurs. "You have no idea what that means to me."
"Of course, Frank. I mean, gosh, it's you. I don't think I could ever get over you," you say, freezing up at the subtle admission.
You stare at him, embarrassment creeping up your neck like a bad rash. You press your back into the wall again, burying your head in your knees.
"Frank," you say, forehead resting against your legs. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"
He cuts you off with a swift tug of your arm, pulling you out from yourself and into him. He palms your face, both of his big hands nearly wrapping all the way around you. He looks deep into your eyes and smiles.
"I thought I'd never get to hear you say that," he says, before crashing his lips into yours.
They're soft, desperate and wanting, just as you'd imagined for fifteen years. He nearly swallows you whole, his big hand tilting your jaw for best access. You grant it to him easily, your head falling slightly backwards to better reach his lips.
He pulls back slightly to readjust his head, and this time, you meet his lips in your own desperation. Kissing him feels like the most natural thing you'd ever done, your heart beating rapidly in your chest at his gentle touch.
Your hand reaches up to palm his chest, fingers lightly gripping the fabric of his scrubs. A soft groan leaves his lips at that, pressing himself into you further.
He presses another quick kiss into your lips, then another, then another. You chase him again for one more, finally pulling back for some air. Your chests heave as you take each other in, and Frank's never looked more beautiful. Cheeks flushed, hair mussed, eyes wide.
"I love you," he breathes, "I think I always have."
Your heart is pounding in your ears, and you have to put a hand on your chest to make sure you heard him right.
"I love you too," you say, eyes wide and blinking. "Those years apart were some of the hardest of my life," the words spill rapidly out of your mouth, your own tears finally finding their way to your eyes. "I'm sorry I left, I'm sorry I wasn't there. Can I be there for you now?" You plead. "Will you let me be there for you now?"
He kisses you again, this time soft and gentle.
"I thought you'd never ask," he says, nipping along your jawline.
Your eyes close, butterflies erupting in your stomach as you grip his forearm. It's not until you roll your hips does what you're doing dawn on you. You gasp, scooting yourself away from him just slightly. His hands don't leave your face.
"What? What is it, baby?" He asks, eyes scanning up and down, looking for any way he might have hurt you.
"Frank," you breathe out, a light laugh lilting with it. "Nothing's wrong, honey. I just-" you bite your lip, embarrassment burning your cheeks. "If we keep going, I'm going to want to fuck you. I don't want to do that in a room with cartoon animals on the walls," you say, nuzzling your cheek into his hand, flashing him your prettiest eyes.
"God," he chokes out, shaking his head in disbelief. "I love you," he presses one more kiss to your lips before helping you up.
"Go home," he says, leading you out the door by your shoulders. "I'll have Samira take over the kid with the peanut allergy. But first I'm going to walk you to the lockers to make sure you're not going to lie and stay."
You roll your eyes, but happily walk with him to the lockers. You press him up against the door once you're inside, hands gripping his waist in a way that has him whimpering against your lips.
"God, what do you do to me?" He breathes out, forehead pressed against yours, breathing heavy.
"I just love you," you say, pecking him once more.
"Hold on," he says, pushing past you to go to his own locker.
You whip your head around, brows knitting together as he fishes through his own locker. He slips a small key off its chain, handing it to you.
"Get your stuff, come stay at mine," he says, a sheepish smile coloring his face.
"What?" You breathe out. "You can't possibly mean that."
"Oh, yes. Yes I really do mean that," he says, nodding and dead serious. "I want to see you when I get home from work. I don't care if you're asleep, which you should be very soon, I just want you there."
He saunters over to you, and you can't help but grab his shoulders once more, kissing him like you'll never see him again.
The door bumping against your hip pulls you away from Langdon, as Samira sticks her head into the locker room.
"Oh God," she rolls her eyes, "come on Langdon, your patient just woke up. Stop making out in the locker room."
His face reddens as he follows her out, turning around to mouth 'see you at home'.
You smile, butterflies swarming your stomach. You could get used to hearing that.
description: when a movie night at your best friends apartment is interrupted by an unexpected guest, you've got to find another way to stay warm.
1:48AM
The small red light emitting from the flashing time on your best friend Trinity's oven is one of the only things you can see as your eyes open and adjust to the cozy living room, leaning your head back to rest on the seat of her couch. A note sits on the other side, where Trinity had been lounging a few hours ago while you watched a shitty comedy movie. Nights like these were tradition. Once at least every two weeks, when Trinity had a day off, the two of you would spend the day lounging on her couch watching movies and making fun of them, before falling asleep in her bed.
You pick up the note, squinting so you can read it in the still dark room. In Trinity's scrawl she writes something about Yolanda coming over late and then moving to her bedroom so they could talk. You had heard plenty about Trinity's crush on her to know they were most likely doing more than talking. You let out a sigh and went to cover yourself with more blankets as a cool air came through the apartment. Looking to your side you realize trinity has since stolen the blankets the both of you had piled onto the floor and taken them to her bedroom, leaving you with one blanket.
You roll your eyes at your best friend's actions and stand up to go knock on her door, feet padding against the hard wood floors. As you approach, you begin to hear the sounds of the two of them kissing and immediately turn around, sighing again. You glance over to the other bedroom door, light seeping through the crack at the bottom.
Dennis’s room. You’d gotten to a decently friendly level with him, speaking briefly whenever you would come over and he was in the kitchen or living room area, but that was the extent of your relationship, for your own good. Trinity would kill you if she knew about the teeny tiny little crush you'd been harboring on her roommate, but it's almost 2 in the morning and she's left you with no blankets and no other choice, so you knock softly on his door. You hear him shuffle around for a moment, before he slowly opens the door, being careful to not let it creak.
“Hi.” he whispers.
“Hi” you respond, simply staring at him for a moment. His hair is a bit tousled, you can tell he's been running his fingers through it. He wears the same constantly tired look he always has, but he somehow looks even more tired now. Past his shoulder you can see into his mostly bare room, and you realize you’ve been silently staring at him for a few seconds too long. You clear your throat before continuing. “Uh sorry… I was just wondering if you had any extra blankets or something. I guess Trinity has a friend over or something so I’m probably just gonna crash on the couch, but she didn’t leave me any blankets and this place gets so cold at night, and you obviously know that because you live here. Sorry.”
He blinks at you, taking in your rambling. Always the gentleman, Dennis knows that you should never let a lady sleep on the couch when you have a perfectly good bed.
“You can sleep in here.” It comes out a lot more confident than anything Dennis has ever said to you, and you blink, still half asleep.
“What?”
“In my bed?” He struggles to explain what he means.
“But you’re sleeping there?” You question, cocking your head to the side, adjusting the blanket around your shoulders. Dennis can’t help but think you look adorable like this, hair slightly messy from how you were laying on it, eyes still sleepy. But you still look as beautiful as ever. Something about the late hour seems to make Dennis more confident around you, usually he can feel the heat rising to his face, but in this moment he feels completely normal.
“I can take the couch.” He offers.
You laugh, and he looks at you confused.
“This is such a cliche huckleberry.” You step past him standing in the doorway as his eyes follow you. Seeing you in his space, walking around so comfortably makes him feel even more relaxed, but he's still confused.
“What?”
“We can just share. If that’s okay with you. Unless you're repulsed by the thought of sleeping with me?” You offer. He raises an eyebrow. You feel your face heat up. “I obviously didn’t mean it like that.”
He laughs before stepping fully into the room, you sit down on the corner of his bed as he closes the door.
“Yeah, we can share. Are you good if I turn off the lights?” He asks.
You nod, scooching your body to the top of the bed, and making yourself comfortable underneath the warm blankets on his bed that smell just like him. He flicks off the lights and steps over to the bed, climbing under the covers next to you. You turn on your side to face him to see he's already looking at you.
“Thanks.” You whisper.
“Of course.” He responds, and the two of you fall into a brief silence, simply looking at each other. You shiver again, somehow his warm sheets not fully protecting you from the cool air, and maybe just maybe you exaggerated it a little bit. Dennis reacts by tentatively placing an arm around your waist, and softly moving your body closer to his. You feel your heartbeat increasing as he looks at you tiredly, and you reach up your hand to move a hair out of his eyes.
“I think I might have a bit of a crush on you.” You whisper, letting your confession sit between you.
“I think I have a big crush on you.” He whispers back, your faces inches apart.
“Yeah I was downplaying it.” You say.
“Can I..?” He nods his head down towards your lips. You nod. He slowly leans forward, rustling the sheets beneath him and presses his lips softly against yours. It's brief, but it's sweet. He pulls away, and you continue to play with his hair as you lean in to kiss him once more.
“Goodnight Dennis.” You whisper against his lips.
“Goodnight Y/N.” He presses his forehead against yours and closes his eyes, a small smile playing on his lips. You feel a similar one on yours as you close your eyes and begin to drift off in his arms. Tomorrow morning, Trinity will walk into her living room and notice you aren’t on the couch like she assumed you would be. But that is a problem for tomorrow morning, because right now you feel perfectly content with your legs tangled with Dennis’s in his bed.
a/n: my first fic for the pitt..... omg so sorry if its shitty but i honestly just wanted to write so badly so pls hope you enjoyed!!!
feeling so inspired by the pitt that i created a new account to write for it......give me some time and a dennis whitaker x reader fic will be waiting on everyones doorsteps.....
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