Never forget the gang-rape of 14-year old Abeer Qassim Hamza al-Janabi on March 12, 2006 in Iraq by five US Army soldiers who then shot her in the head and set her body on fire. Never forget that they first murdered her mother Fakhriyah Taha Muhsin, father Qasim Hamza Raheem, and younger sister Hadeel Qasim Hamza.
Of the perpetrators, Steven Green said, “I didn’t think of Iraqis as humans.” James Barker took a plea deal and immediately after, smoked a cigarette and grinned as reporters passed by.
May Abeer and her family rest in peace while the monsters who did this and allowed it to happen suffer for eternity.
Never forget what western imperialism does to countries it claims to help by sending rapists, pedophiles, and murderers to the doorsteps of innocent people [x].
summary: when you start feeling unwell, frank manages to convince you to stop by the ER, much to his co-workers delight.
pairing: lawyer!reader (fem) x frank langdon (established relationship)
warnings/tags: reader being stubborn, abby and kids do not exist in this universe, established relationship, part of the er ken & lawyer barbie series, the pitt crew lowkey being thirsty af for the reader, flirting, fluff, reader is sick in this fic, swearing, usual medical descriptions that you’d expect from the pitt!
notes: this is part of an ongoing series but can be read on its own as well!
likes, reblogs, comments are very much appreciated!
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You knew you were sick the second you woke up.
Sleep glued your eyes shut, your throat was scratchy and your lungs felt heavy - like you had an anchor placed onto your chest.
It was a feeling that you had grown accustomed to.
The combination of constant sleep deprivation, terrible nutrition and a caffeine intake that bordered on medical concern, meant your immune system was practically non-existent.
All your co-workers were in the same boat, which meant you all were in a constant cycle of catching each others colds - passing them around like shared stationary.
So, like always, you pushed through.
You got dressed, dry-swallowed a couple of painkillers on your way out the door, and told yourself it would pass.
As your day progressed, what you’d assumed was another typical cold had given way to something worse.
You’d developed a nasty cough, mucusy enough that even your hardened co-workers had started given you looks.
“Holy mother of mary you look like shit.”
You dragged your head up, which was starting to feel like a bowling ball, to find Amy leaning in your doorway.
“Hello to you too.”
“No seriously.” She pushed off the frame and walked in, heels clicking with purpose. “You like, look really unwell. Are you ok?”
“Never better.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“It’s just a cold.” You added, glancing back at your screen.
“I’ve seen you with a cold.” Amy shook her head. “This is not a cold.”
She studied you for a moment longer.
“Have you told hot doctor?”
You shot her a look. “No, I have not told Frank.”
“Why not? Isn’t that why he exists? To aid people… medically.”
You managed to huff out a laugh, although it sounded more like a cat being strangled.
"Because I don’t want him to worry, especially when it’s nothing serious.”
“Ok.” Amy placed her hands on her hips. “You need to do two things.”
She pointed one perfectly manicured finger up in the air. “Firstly, you need to go home.”
A second finger joined.
“Secondly, call your hot doctor boyfriend and get him to give you some serious pain meds.”
You blinked at her. “Or... I do none of those things and finish this advice which is due tomorrow.”
Amy folded her arms in front of her chest. “You literally insisted on dragging me to the ER when I fell and sprained my ankle.”
You stared at her blankly.
“So, this is me returning the favour.”
“Ames I can’t-“
“- you can.” She insisted. “Or I'll rat you out to Keith.”
You gasped. “You wouldn’t.”
Her expression turned smug. “Oh, I would.”
Keith was one of the most senior partners in the firm, and a notorious germaphobe.
He’d infamously once fired an intern in the middle of a firm wide meeting for sneezing without covering their mouth.
Amy, unfortunately for you, had him in her back pocket, dubbed by him as the most proficient (and clean) paralegal in the whole firm.
You held her gaze for a moment longer. You blinked as your vision started to blur.
“Fine.” You relented.
Amy hovered the whole time you packed up your things, like you might decide to sit down and keep typing if she didn’t.
“Call hot doctor boyfriend!” She called out to you as you stalked down the hallway, earning curious looks from half the floor.
You just waved her off without looking back.
-
By the time you got home, your symptoms had worsened.
Breathing felt tighter - each inhale catching slightly, each exhale ending in a faint wheeze. You could feel your body start to ache and shiver with a chill.
You collapsed onto your bed without changing, reluctantly pulling out your laptop.
You swore you had just closed your eyes to blink, and then you were waking up.
A damp patch of drool soaked into your pillow, your neck stiff from the angle.
“Fuck.” You cursed when you glanced at the time to see it was nearly 5pm.
You grabbed your phone from beside you to see endless emails and calls from work.
Frank’s missed call and text stood out like a sore thumb.
No need to call back, just had a break so wanted to see how your day was going.
Your chest tightened slightly - though whether from guilt or illness, you weren’t sure.
You typed back quickly.
Sorry I missed your call, I fell asleep :(
You were still typing out your next text when his contact photo lit up your screen.
You hesitated. He was going to clock that you were sick instantly, but not answering would be even more suspicious.
You pushed yourself upright, swallowing against the thickness in your throat, hoping that it might make a difference.
“Hey.”
“Hey you.” You could hear his smile as he spoke. “Did I misread your text or are you seriously telling me you fell asleep at your desk?”
“No, I left early.” You said, aiming for casual and missing by a mile.
There was a pause.
“You left work… early?”
“Yeah, I'm not feeling great." You admitted. "But it’s not a big deal." You added quickly.
“What are your symptoms?” You could hear the switch in his tone, going from boyfriend to doctor in a matter of seconds.
“Uh.. headache, cough, fatigue, I think maybe a fever?”
“And when did they start?”
“This morning but it’s gotten a bit worse.”
Silence met you.
“I’m fine really I-“
The sentence dissolved into a coughing fit you couldn’t suppress. It tore out of your chest, sharp and ugly, leaving your lungs burning.
“Baby.” Frank said gently after a moment, concern laced through his tone. “That sounds terrible.”
“I sound worse than I feel.”
Lie. And Frank knew it too.
“Look." He said after a moment, gentler now but firm underneath. "I know you won’t want to, but I think you should stop by so I can check on you.”
Panic coiled in your chest. Your relatively new boyfriend seeing you pale, sweaty and wheezing wasn't exactly on the top of your list of priorities.
“No no no-" You began. “I can’t take up a bed in the ER Frank, this isn’t an emergency.”
“I’ll have you in and out in under an hour.” He assured you. “I’ll just run a few tests and give you a physical.”
You opened your mouth to protest.
“I’ll be able to prescribe you something stronger than your over the counter meds, which will have you back to work much quicker.”
That idea put you on the fence.
As if he sensed your hesitation, he went in for the kill.
“And-“ he said softly. “It will put my mind at ease. Please."
You sighed. Why did he have to know you so well?
“You sure I won’t be in the way?”
“That's literally impossible.”
You relented. “Fine. I’ll have a shower and head over.”
“Thank you." Relief slipped into his voice. "Come in through the ambulance bay entrance."
He paused. "I think you’re familiar with it.”
Despite how shit you felt, you smiled. “I am.”
-
By the time you got a taxi to the ER, your whole body felt like lead.
Your chest had gotten heavier, your breathing tacky. A chill had settled deep into your bones, making your hands tremble despite the warmth of the evening.
You wrapped your arms around yourself as you walked through the doors from the ambulance bay - spitting you into the department that never slept.
Dana was the first to notice you, doing a double take when she saw you shuffling over in a loose t-shirt and sweats.
“Hey sweetheart.” She called, already moving toward you. “Langdon said we’d be seeing you today.”
“Hey Dana.”
“He’s just with a patient.” She frowned as she watched you shiver. “Come with me, why don’t we get you to a bed so you can lie down in?”
“Oh no that’s really-“
Before you could finish your sentence she had your shoulders in a surprisingly strong grip as she firmly guided you down the hall.
“Lay down.” She said gently once you reached the bed.
You found your body complying with surprising ease, like it was desperate to conserve energy.
“I’ll get someone to bring you some water, Langdon won’t be long.”
“Ok, thanks.” You shot her a weak smile.
A few minutes later, Robby walked past your room, slowing mid-stride as he looked in through the glass.
“I thought room 4 was free.” He thumbed over his shoulder towards your room.
“It is.” Perlah answered.
“Then why is someone lying in there?”
“Langdon’s girlfriend is in there.” Dana answered, not looking up from her chart.
Robby and Perlah blinked in unison.
Javadi’s head shot up.
“The lawyer?”
“Yes, the lawyer.” Dana finally looked at Robby over her glasses. “She looks in rough shape. Langdon said he convinced her to come in to get checked out.”
Robby scoffed. “This is an emergency department, not a GP.”
Dana’s expression hardened. “Why don’t you go look at her yourself before you make assumptions? The poor thing could barely keep herself upright.”
Robby muttered something under his breath, throwing his hands up in defeat.
“Langdon!” Dana called out across the pitt just as Frank emerged from another room.
She inclined her head. “Your girlfriend’s here. Room 4.”
“Oh, thanks.” He was already moving.
“Woah woah woah.” Robby stepped into his path. “Where are you going?”
“Just to go check-“
“You’re her boyfriend, you can’t be objective if you treat her.”
“I know that.” Frank said tightly, already trying to look past him.
“Dr King's assessing her.”
Robby studied him for a moment, like he was trying to find a reason to scold him.
“Can I at least go and say hello?”
“After Dr King’s done her initial assessment. Prevents her from being influenced by any observations you might be inclined to make.”
Frank held his gaze for a moment, jaw tightening like he was debating whether to push it.
“Fine.”
Mel, who had been hovering nearby, stepped in quickly.
“I’ll go check on her now.” She reassured Frank, shooting him a small smile.
Frank exhaled, “ok, thanks.”
-
You glanced up as the door opened.
“Frank honey, you look different.” You teased, your voice croaky.
Mel let out an awkward laugh as she stepped inside. “I’m Dr King.”
Your eyes brightened. “I’ve heard a lot about you Dr King.”
Mel watched as you feebly tried to sit up.
“And I've heard a lot about you.” She smiled kindly. "And I mean a lot.. Langdon never stops-" She cut herself off. "I probably shouldn't be telling you that. Sorry."
"No, no keep going." You said. "Good for the ego."
That earned a genuine laugh as she adjusted her glasses, before she slipped right back into professional mode.
“I’m going to be examining you today because Frank can't treat you given he has a personal relationship with you. Is that alright?”
You smiled faintly. “If Frank trusts you, I trust you.”
She nodded curtly, a faint blush appearing on her cheeks at your praise.
Mel listened attentively as you listed your symptoms. Then, she gently examined your throat, feeling around your glands, before pressing her stethoscope to your back.
“Take some deep breaths for me.”
Her brow furrowed as you inhaled and exhaled deeply.
Mel glanced toward the window just in time to catch Frank watching. His expression had shifted - tight, alert, already reading her face.
“Ok.” She moved to stand in front of you, blocking your sight of the window. “By the sound of your breathing, it looks like maybe a viral infection or the flu but I’m going to get your bloods taken and a chest x-ray just to be sure.”
Your brow furrowed. “A chest x-ray? Should I be worried?”
“No no.” She assured you. “I just want to be thorough, Dr Langdon will want to make sure we check every possibility.”
That seemed to settle you.
“Ok.”
She moved to leave before pausing at the door. “Are you ok with me sharing your medical information with Dr Lang- Frank?”
You huffed faintly. “Ah yes, confidentiality.”
“Something I'm sure you’re familiar with.”
“Very.” You coughed, wincing as your chest tightened.
You would usually have made a witty remark, but you just found yourself nodding. “That’s fine.”
“Ok, one of the nurses will be in shortly. They'll give you some fluids and take your bloods."
The door clicked shut behind Mel, and for a moment, the room was quiet again - save for the soft, ugly rattle in your chest every time you breathed.
You sank back into the pillows, staring up at the ceiling, trying to ignore the way each inhale felt… wrong. Too tight. Too shallow.
Maybe this wasn’t just a cold.
The thought barely had time to settle before the door opened again.
This time, it was Frank.
You didn’t even realise how tense your body had been until you saw him - until something in your chest loosened that had nothing to do with your congested lungs.
"Hey." You rasped.
He was at your side in seconds, eyes scanning you like he was cataloguing every symptom all at once.
"Hey." He echoed softly, but the smile you were expecting didn’t quite land.
His hand came up to your forehead, then your cheek, then gently under your chin, tilting your face toward the light.
"You look worse than you sounded." He murmured.
"Wow, romantic."
That earned you the smallest huff of amusement - but it didn’t reach his eyes.
A knock interrupted you both.
“Hi, I’m Donnie. Dr King sent me in to do your bloods.”
You mustered up a smile as you introduced yourself.
“Oh I know who you are.” He grinned like the concept of you having to explain who you were was a novelty.
“I’m a big fan.”
“Fan?”
“Anyone who can make ER Ken here this whipped has my total and utter admiration.”
Frank went to shoot him a glare but stopped when he saw the smile on your face.
“I like you already Donnie.” You answered before breaking out into a coughing fit.
Frank reached for your hand, squeezing tightly as your lungs settled and Donnie set to work.
Another nurse, who introduced herself as Princess came in not long after to take you to get your x-ray.
“McKay's looking for you.” She added to Frank.
Frank glanced down at you, his grip on your hand tightening.
“I’ve got her Langdon.” She reassured him, her usual humour gone from her face when she saw the panic in his eyes.
“Go.” You urged him, squeezing his hand back. “I’ll still be here when you get back.”
“Ok baby.”
And then, like he forgot where he was - who was watching - he leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to your lips.
Princess watched as he left the room, shaking her head slightly.
-
By the time you were back in the room after your x-ray, the chills had worsened. Your teeth were chattering, your vision blurring at the edges.
Frank was leaning against the counter when you came back in, arms crossed, but the second he saw you - he straightened immediately.
"Oh sweetheart." He murured, stepping closer as he helped you back into bed.
You barely had the energy to respond.
"Cold?" He asked, already reaching for another blanket.
You nodded, too tired to argue when he tucked it around you himself.
Frank adjusted it.
Then adjusted it again.
Then frowned like it personally offended him.
"It’s uneven."
"It’s a blanket." You mumbled.
He ignored that, tucking the corner in with unnecessary, surgical precision.
Only when he was satisfied that you were adequately comfortable, did he finally glance back at you, brushing a piece of hair from your face.
"I've got to go check in on my other patients."
"Ok." You murmured, your eyes drooping.
"I'll be back." He placed a chaste kiss to your forehead.
“Man." Princess said after a moment, watching him go. "That boy loves you.”
You smiled sleepily “I know.”
-
By the time Mel came back, you had started drifting in and out of sleep, so you had no real sense of how much time had passed.
Frank was not far behind her.
“How are you feeling?”
You forced yourself to open your eyes, although they quivered like they were threatening to drop at any moment.
“Peachy.”
Frank leant forward, brushing a hand over your forehead, his touch cool against your burning skin.
“She’s burning up.”
Mel glanced at you first, then at Frank.
"I've had a look at the x-ray of your chest. There are white spots showing up on your lungs. Which indicates the presence of an infection - where pus and fluids have replaced air."
Your brain lagged.
“Meaning?”
Frank’s hand found yours before Mel answered.
“You’ve got pneumonia.”
You blinked slowly.
“…like,” you swallowed, throat dry. “Pneumonia pneumonia?”
Mel gave a small, sympathetic nod as she wringed her hands together.
“I thought that was something people got from like... standing in the rain too long. Or...back in the bubonic plague times.”
They both offered you a laugh at your attempt at humour.
“It’s more common than you think.” She reassured you. “Have you had a cold recently?”
You offered a weak shrug. “I’ve always got something on board.”
“Right. Well, pneumonia is often triggered by a cold or flu. You’re more vulnerable if you’ve got a weakened immune system which of course can be exacerbated by stress, lack of sleep, improper nutrition…”
“Gee." Frank murmured, glancing down at you. "I wonder who that reminds me of?” There was no bite to it, only concern.
“We caught it early, which is good. But you’re going to need antibiotics, fluids and lots of rest.”
Your head lolled back against the pillow.
“How long do the antibiotics take to kick in?”
Frank’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“Uh- it can depend. We usually recommend coming back after 5 days if your symptoms haven’t improved.”
“So I’ll be ok to go to work tomorrow?”
Frank closed his eyes briefly.
“Baby-“
“What? I’m just asking.”
“You’re not going to work tomorrow.”
“I have a deadline.”
“You have pneumonia.”
“I’ll take the antibiotics-“
“You can barely sit upright.”
“I’m sitting right now.”
“You’re horizontal.”
You gestured weakly. “…semantics.”
Mel pressed her lips together, clearly trying not to smile.
“I’ll give you two a minute.” She said, slipping out.
The second the door shut, Frank turned back to you fully.
“Did you drive here?”
You shook your head.
“Ok.” He nodded. “You’re staying at mine tonight.”
This time there was no room for negotiation in his tone.
“You don’t need to do that.” You shot back weakly. “I just need meds and I’ll be fine.”
“You are not fine.”
“I’ve worked through worse.”
“That’s not something to be proud of.”
“It’s reality.”
“And this." He gestured to you, to the oxygen monitor now clipped to your finger, to the way your chest rose unevenly, “is also reality.”
You hesitated.
Just for a second, but he caught it.
His expression shifted, something softer breaking through the control.
“Hey." He said quietly. "Look at me.”
You did.
And there it was - that shift again. Not doctor. Not entirely.
Just… Frank. Your Frank.
“I’m not going to be able to sleep if I don’t know you're ok.”
Your throat tightened, and not from the infection.
“You just want to make sure I’m not working.” You muttered.
“Absolutely." He said without missing a beat. "I’ll be hiding your work phone the second we get home.”
You huffed weakly.
"…I wasn’t going to-"
"-Liar."
"...maybe a little."
His thumb brushed over your knuckles.
“Let me look after my girl.” He murmured. “Please.”
You held his gaze for a long moment.
Then sighed.
"...ok."
Relief flickered across his face so quickly it almost hurt to see.
“Thank you.”
You broke out into a coughing fit before you could say anything else. Frank's grip on your hand tighter instinctively, waiting patiently as your body worked through it.
“Sexy, huh?”
His mouth curved faintly, brushing a thumb across your cheekbone.
“I’m pretty sure you’re the only person on the planet who can make pneumonia look sexy.”
“You flatter me.”
“Just stating facts."
He pressed a kiss to your brow, almost reverently.
“Rest. I’ll be finished soon.”
-
Like most gossip in the pitt, word that you were here had spread like wildfire.
Staff suddenly found themselves with urgent, completely necessary reasons to pass by your room - each one conveniently slowing just enough to peer through the glass at the woman who had reduced Frank Langdon to a love sick puppy.
Dana was walking and writing at the same time when she happened to glance up.
"Hey!" She roused.
A cluster of nurses froze mid-creep outside your door.
They turned slowly.
“Leave her alone for Christ's sake. This isn’t a zoo!”
They exchanged glances before sheepishly dispersing.
“Unbelievable.” Dana muttered under her breath, shaking her head as she kept walking.
Whitaker and Santos both looked up as Dana passed.
“So what’s the matter with lawyer barbie?” Santos remarked after a few moments.
Mel didn't even look up from her screen. “Pneumonia.”
McKay paused behind her, leaning slightly to get a better look toward your room.
“She had pneumonia and still looks like that?” She let out a scoff. “Why do I even fucking bother.”
“They are so cute.” Javadi added dreamily, still staring at your door.
“Princess said that he called her baby.”
Santos’ nose wrinkled. “Gross.”
“And-“ Princess chimed in, stepping closer. “You guys should have seen the way he tucked her in. Honestly it was like he was nesting.”
Perlah and Javadi let out matching awws.
“That is quite sweet.” Whitaker murmured, causing Santos to shoot him a glare.
“Traitor.” She grumbled.
But even she couldn’t completely hide the way her expression softened.
“Should we start a betting pool on how many times he’s going to go check in on her between now and the end of his shift?” Donnie grinned.
“Guys." Mohan interjected. "We should show him some grace. He’s really worried about her.”
Robby, who had of course been eavesdropping, shifted slightly at his desk.
Guilt pawed at his chest as he thought about his interaction with Langdon earlier, the clear distress that had been evident on his features.
“Mohan's right.” He said without looking up.
Everyone turned to him.
“Be nice to Langdon.”
In turn, they all blinked, then exchanged glances to confirm if they had all collectively misheard.
“What the fuck?” Santos whispered under her breath.
Whitaker just shrugged. "I'm not even going to ask."
—
When you came to, you were completely disorientated.
For a split second, panic surged through you as you tried to sit up too quickly, disoriented by the unfamiliar room.
Then, your brain caught up. The hospital, Frank, pneumonia.
You stilled.
Frank had pulled a chair up beside your bed, one arm resting near yours, like he needed the proximity just as much as you did.
He’d changed out of his scrubs, the soft glow of his phone illuminating the shirt you’d helped him pick out a few weeks ago.
You shifted slightly, wincing.
His head snapped up the second he registered your movement, his phone discarded in his lap.
“Hey sleepyhead.”
You let out a soft groan as you rubbed your eyes. “How long have I been asleep?”
“It’s about 9 pm.”
Two hours since his shift finished.
Your gaze lingered on him. “You should have woken me up.”
It came out half-scolding - but the warmth in your voice gave you away.
“I wanted you to get as much sleep as possible.”
“What if I hadn’t woken up until tomorrow?”
“Then I’d have stayed right here all night.” He said it immediately, simply, like there was no other option that existed.
You felt an insurmountable amount of love threaten to burst out of your chest.
You just looked at him for a moment, something quiet and overwhelming settling between you.
“Come on." He said gently as he stood. "Let's get you home."
The teasing you’d expected as Frank all but carried you out of your room towards his car was non-existent.
Instead, the night shift and day shift stragglers offered you their ‘hope you feel betters’ and goodbyes as you passed.
Voices continued to follow you down the corridor, softer than usual, threaded with something that sounded suspiciously like fondness.
“Rest up lawyer barbie.” A doctor you hadn't met before said as he passed, iced coffee in hand.
Your brow knitted. “What did he just call me?”
Frank huffed under his breath, adjusting his grip on you.
“I think it’s better I explain that when you’re feeling better.”
-
By the time you got to Frank’s apartment, you were exhausted.
Not just tired - bone-deep, heavy, the kind of exhaustion that settled into your body and refused to let go.
With no fight left in you, you gave in to Frank’s wishes without complaint - finally finding yourself letting him fuss over you.
He guided you through a quick shower, steadying you when you swayed, before helping you into one of his shirts and a pair of track pants that hung loose on your frame.
You had no appetite, but he hovered just enough that you managed a few reluctant spoonfuls of leftovers from his fridge.
Then, he got you into bed.
A warm compress rested against your forehead, and by the time you blinked your eyes open again, your bedside table had been transformed - water, tea, pain meds, everything lined up within easy reach.
You shifted slightly.
Frank was there instantly, adjusting your pillows with quiet precision, movements gentle, practiced.
You watched him for a moment in the dim light.
“You’re good at this.”
He glanced at you, a crooked smile tugging at his mouth. “Occupational hazard.”
As your eyes started to droop, you patted the bed next to you.
“Will you lie with me?”
You didn’t have to ask twice. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t even pretend to. Frank didn’t think he was capable of denying you anything, ever.
You turned just enough to face him.
“Thank you for all of this. Taking care of me.” You murmured.
Frank smiled softly. “Thank you for letting me.”
You could see it - the lecture sitting right there on the tip of his tongue, ready to go. About rest, about burnout, about how you ran yourself into the ground like it was something to be proud of.
But he swallowed it.
A conversation for a later date. You let your eyes flutter shut.
“I think I’ve found your one flaw you know.” He said after a few moments.
You peaked an eye open. “Just one?”
He studied you, something warm and tired in his eyes.
“You’re a terrible patient.”
You let out a weak laugh at that.
“Pretty fatal flaw for someone dating a doctor.”
Frank shook his head. “Somehow you make it endearing.”
Your lips curved faintly, your eyes drifting shut again.
“I love you.”
The words slipped out easily. Soft. Unguarded. Like they’d been there for a while. Like you hadn’t just shifted the course of his life.
Frank froze beside you momentarily.
You didn’t see it - the way it landed. The way his eyes turned glassy. The way his breath caught. The way something in his chest shifted all at once.
He’d been holding onto those words for weeks. Turning them over, waiting for the right moment - worried he’d say them too soon, that he’d scare you off.
And you just… said them.
Like it was simple, obvious, something that was inevitable between the two of you.
Frank supposed it was.
“I love you.” He whispered back. “So much.”
You hummed softly, already half asleep.
“Get some rest baby.”
Your fingers curled loosely around his.
And for once, you listened.
As always always always, feedback is always appreciated because I thrive off praise. Please give it back here and consider tipping me! 🤍
pairing: frank langdon x resident!reader
wc: 2.8k (this was supposed to be a blurb but i'm a yapper)
the pitt masterlist
summary: your first sleepover at frank's
contains: broken bed (not like that you perv), frank gets a boner, intense yearning
a/n: i hope you enjoy! be sure to check out my y(2k) sleepover event (link at the bottom of this piece) and place your own request! | dividers from @diviniyae
In the overmasking soundscape of the Pitt — beeping monitors, rushing footsteps, and the occasional cry of pain— you somehow manage to take a phone call without having to step outside. Frank watches you from the workstation beside yours, where he pokes at the keyboard in an attempt to type out his notes on his last patient, with little success.
It's nearly ten o'clock, and you're the last two day shift doctors around —besides Robby, of course, captain going down with the ship and all that. An especially long trauma right at seven kept the both of you here past quitting time, which meant that the last hour has been spent in the throes of charting.
Frank's bones feel like they're weighed down by sandbags, and he's only capable of thinking in fragments. Plus, the promise of his empty, divorced dad apartment isn't much of a motivator.
He catches pieces of your phone conversation, mostly frustrated comments on your end. "This is ridiculous, I paid for a room already," you mutter, then ask to speak to a manager.
After another couple of minutes, you hang up the phone and slam it face-down on the workstation.
Frank grimaces. Anyone with half a brain knows not to test you when you're wearing the same exact expression you have now: locked, tight frown, deflated posture, and a sharp crease in your brows.
"What's going on?" he asks after a moment, peering over the top of the divider to find you cradling your head in your hands.
A sharp inhale shoots you ramrod straight.
"Nothing," your insistence comes suspiciously fast as you school your frown into a tight, neutral line. "I'm fine, let's just get the hell out of here, huh?"
"Okay, Karen," Frank teases without thinking about it, shifting his gaze back to the computer, where all the words swirl together. He blinks long and slow. There's a possibility he's reached a semi-delirious point of exhaustion.
"Excuse me?" Your nostrils flare out. Frank swears there's steam shooting out of your ears. "Did you just call me a Karen?"
Blue eyes widen, the reaction more pointed under the harsh hospital lights. "I just mean because you asked for the manager," he gulps, holding up two hands in defense.
You narrow your eyes at him.
"The hotel I'm staying at tonight just called to say they gave my room away," you nearly growl, your intonation making it seem like it's his fault.
"Why are you staying in a hotel room?" he asks.
He's been to your apartment once, months ago, crammed shoulder-to-shoulder with half the day shift for a movie night. You'd somehow wrangled everyone into watching Jurassic Park because Whitaker and Javadi said during a shift that they'd never seen it.
You're hard for Frank to pin down. Half the time you scare the shit out of him. The other half you're hosting movie nights, bringing in banana bread, or showing the med students a procedure with gentle, practiced hands.
It wasn't like he made himself easy to get a read on, either. Between the divorce, the kids, and sprinting upstairs after trauma just to make his drug test before the lab closed, most days he'd barely managed to keep his own head above water.
It took a while, but somewhere over the last few months, his conversations with you started getting longer. Less about patients, more about whatever happened to come up between charts.
"My apartment is being fumigated," you slump back into your seat, locking your hands atop your head. Frank has never seen you so… despondent. It's unnerving. "I told the hotel I'd have a late check-in, but they still gave my room away."
After a moment's thought, Frank realizes the bind you're in. You moved to Pittsburgh for your residency. You don't have any friends or family here. If your hotel screwed you over this late in the evening, then you're up shit's creek.
If he's being honest, he's also seeing something in you that he sees in himself, nearly every time he catches his reflection in the mirror.
Loneliness.
His leg jiggles restlessly under his desk. "You can…" he swallows when your inscrutable eyes meet his. "You can sleep at my place, if you want to."
You furrow your brow. "I wasn't asking—"
"I know," Frank cuts in, saving the chart he's working on, then exits out of it. "But I'm offering."
Frank sees the gears turning in your head. You'd rather gnash your teeth and suffer through the plot of Armageddon than ask for help. You nibble on your bottom lip —an expression Frank has only ever seen you make during a complicated intubation. He never noticed how adorable it is until now.
"I don't want to be an imposition," you say, a little quieter.
"You wouldn't be," he shakes his head. "I don't have the kids tonight. They still don't have beds yet, but I've got a sofa. It's yours if you want it."
"Yeah, okay," his heart gives a little flip when you finally relent, a tight, forced smile stretching across your lips. "Thank you."
Langdon flips the light switch once you're inside, illuminating the apartment in a familliar fluorescent glow.
He drops his backpack by the door, then waves a hand at the small, sparsely furnished space.
"This is it," he says.
"It's nice," you nod at the space, noting the distinct lack of anything particularly Langdon.
"No, it's not," he snorts. "But I appreciate the sentiment."
He's right in assuming you're just being polite. A laminate island divides the kitchen from the gray-walled living room. A sofa faces the television mounted opposite it, and a small table with three chairs fills the remaining space. Functional instead of homey.
If someone told you this was a furnished rental, you'd believe them.
The only evidence of anyone actually living here is the little toy kitchen in the corner, decked out in primary colors. A small plastic chest sits beside it, dotted with yellow stars and two names hand-painted on the side.
Tanner & Penny
Your lip quirks up at this.
"Your kids'?" You ask as you lean against the edge of the island, hooking your thumb towards the playset.
"Yeah," he smiles in familiarity, then steps around you to get to the fridge. He pops a photo out from under a magnet, and slides it across the island to you.
You've never seen photos of Langdon's kids before, but they are, without a doubt, his.
"That's Penny," he points to the little girl with a dimple in her chin. "And Tanner," he says of the slightly larger boy with eyes that are bright, clear water blue.
"They're cute," you nod. "They look a lot like you."
Langdon's thin smile lingers, then he clears his throat. "I can get the sofa set up for you, if you want to hop in the shower," he offers. "Or, did you want to get something to eat? I have a pizza in the freezer, but not much else."
"Pizza's good," you reply, then stifle a yawn. Your body aches with the kind of exhaustion that should knock you out cold, but your brain refuses to follow suit. "I might go ahead and take a shower, if that's okay with you?"
He nods.
Frank grabs you a clean towel and shows you how to work the faucet.
The whole thing feels strangely intimate. His razor on the sink. His shampoo in the shower. The towel he'd pulled from his own linen closet. All of it is closer than you've ever thought you'd be with a man who is, technically speaking, your boss.
You skip washing your hair, leaving it up in a clip as you cleanse your body of the day's grime.
While you towel off, you catch the faint hint of something, then realize that Langdon buys fabric softener. It takes a moment for that fact to digest.
You change into your pajamas —a ratty t-shirt and a holey pair of sweatpants. A little embarrassing, but you packed for a secluded hotel room, not Frank Langdon's dad-chelor pad.
When you emerge from the bathroom, there's a distinct smell of pizza in the air. You pad out in too-big socks to find cushions scattered about the living room and Frank hunched over the sofa, yanking at a steel frame. His cheeks have gone red, manipulating the frame with no success.
"I didn't realize it's a…" you lose the word as you join him, tugging at the opposite side of the frame.
"Pull out," Langdon spews, exasperated and cranky.
"I'm trying!" You say as you try from a different angle.
"No," he huffs, out of breath as he stands up straight. His hands fly to his hips. "It's a pull-out couch."
"Then why isn't it pulling out?" You snap in response, peering into the mechanism.
There's no way to tell why, exactly, the mattress isn't extending like it should, so you try pushing it back in.
It creaks in stubborn response, but doesn't budge.
"It's not going back in," you grumble. Langdon grabs his end and also tries to shove the frame back in. Nothing, save for a distinct click. As though the metal decides to lock in place.
"Sssssshit," Langdon drags out the word, staring at the sofa like he might chuck it through the curtainless window. He scrubs his hand over his face, so hard he leaves white fingerprints over reddened skin.
You chew on the inside of your cheek, unsure of what to say. Do you apologize for possibly making it worse? Do you just leave?
"I'm so sorry," he bounces on his heels, shaking his hands, expelling all his nervous energy at once. "You can sleep in my bed. I'll take the floor."
"What? No, that's… that's way too much from what you've already offered," you bluster, then hook your thumb towards the door. "I'll just find a hotel, Langdon, seriously. Not a big deal."
You turn on your heel, but a large hand catches your shoulder.
"No, it's way too late for that. You'll end up in some piece-of-shit motel," he says as you spin around. You glance down to where his fingers splay across your shoulder. "And then you'll get murdered, and I'll feel just terrible about it." You roll your eyes, but he presses on. "Please, just… take me up on it?"
He looks so tired, you realize, gazing up into cloudy blue eyes.
The timer on the oven cuts through the moment in a shrill, incessant beep.
Langdon glances down at his hand, then slowly draws it back. As he wanders past you into the kitchen, you brush your fingertips over the spot, catching the residual heat.
He takes the pizza out of the oven, the pan tudding on the kitchen island. Your mouth waters at the sight of steaming, gooey cheese and pepperoni.
Langdon follows your gaze to the pizza, then smiles at you. "Will you stay?"
Every logical piece of you screams to grab your backpack and leave, but you suppose you're too damn tired for all that. "Sure," you whisper.
The pizza disappears within fifteen minutes of leaving the oven, no evidence it ever existed apart from a crumb-scattered pan. Frank changes the sheets on his bed, and tells you goodnight.
Relieved for the shower he's desperately craved, Frank follows a delicious, floral scent to the bathroom, the source of which he quickly finds on the sink.
Rose & Pearl is the scent of your body gel, though Frank's not sure where the pearl part comes into play as he sniffs the open bottle.
He catches himself in the mirror, then slowly sets the bottle back down.
Pervert, he scolds himself. Didn't even realize he picked up the damn thing.
When he steps out of the bathroom later, a trail of steam billowing behind, he exhales at the sight of the closed bedroom door. You're in there, leaving that rosy scent all over his pillowcases. His sheets.
In attempt to distract himself, he plucks his phone off the kitchen counter, only to realize it's nearly dead. "Shit," he murmurs. His eyes dart to the closed bedroom door.
He takes a deep breath before knocking.
"Yeah?" You don't sound groggy, so any potential guilt about waking you vanishes from the queue.
"Can I come in for a sec?" Frank asks.
"Yeah," you reply. The door creaks as it opens.
"Forgot my phone charger," he gestures apologetically to the nightstand on the side of the bed opposite from where you sit, propped up against the headboard.
In his bed. With your hair down, spilling around your shoulders in glossy waves. Always so put together in the ED, Frank's never seen you so… cozy.
"It's okay," you force a thin smile.
You crane your neck when Frank rounds the bed, frowning at his setup on the living room floor. Beside the broken couch lays Tanner's Paw Patrol pillow and Penny's Disney Princess blanket. A bright contrast against the drab, gray carpet. "That doesn't look very comfortable," you assess.
"It's alright," he waves off your concern. As he plucks his phone charger from behind the nightstand, he feels the weight of your eyes lingering on him. Frank turns, and finds you boring a hole through his head with your stare.
"Why don't we share?" You ask, exhaling long through your nose.
"Huh?"
"Langdon," your voice borders on an exasperated mumble as you pat the empty space on the bed. "Just lay down. It's already midnight, we're both exhausted. I don't care. It's fine."
Frank's eyes dart from you to the shoddy setup in the living room, and back. He really doesn't want to sleep on the floor.
Jesus Christ. He gives an appreciative nod. He grabs the blanket off the living room floor, and against all his better judgment, climbs into bed with you.
You turn off the lamp on your side of the bed, leaving the room mostly dark, save for the streetlight peeking in from the blinds.
The mattress is a queen, large enough for the both of you, but the space between your bodies is limited. Frank's nose is clogged with the sweet smell of your body wash. Your heat mixes with his.
Get a grip and go to sleep, Langdon, he thinks.
"Goodnight," you murmur from somewhere beside him. Frank's stomach rolls around in his gut.
"Goodnight," he whispers back. He adjusts so he's on his side, facing away from you.
A strong pair of arms looped through yours radiates warmth. Four legs all tangled up like dock knots, and a nose nudging into your hair. Your hand rests over top of the one on your hip. And somewhere between the small of your back and the curve of your rear, a firm length smushes up against you.
You whine at the feeling, not quite conscious, not quite asleep, and roll over. Your bones feel like lead, but the feeling quickly melts when that hardness rubs against your core. Pleasure shoots up through your veins.
You slowly blink awake to see the snoring figure of Frank Langdon. Your eyes widen.
Fuck, you think. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.
You freeze, unsure of how, exactly, to disentangle yourself without waking him up.
He's definitely asleep. You can tell by the slow thud of his heartbreat, and the soft, lazy snoring that rumbles through his throat. Morning light stretches through the slats of the blinds, striking the top of his softly mussed hair.
So peaceful. You blink as the word crosses your mind — peaceful. Something you don't think you've felt since you moved to Pittsbrugh almost a year ago.
It's been lonely, you can admit that, especially since you have no family here, no real friends besides the ones you've made at work. Princess and Perlah, Samira. Mel. Jesse. Langdon.
Langdon, whose dick is pressed right up against your ass.
Shit. You peel away from him, starting with your legs, then roll out of the bed. Somehow he remains dead asleep, pawing at the empty space you left behind. Something self-indulgent inside of you keeps your feet glued to the ground for a moment.
His face is half-squished into the pillow, his t-shirt partially riding up to reveal a slightly hairy tummy. You can appreciate a nice figure, right? Doesn't have anything to do with the safety you felt blanketing your entire body when he touched you.
No, you insist, as you pad quietly towards the bathroom. Doesn't have anything to do with anything.
When you return about ten minutes later, teeth brushed and changed into jeans and a sweatshirt, you find Langdon sat up in the bed. Eyes glued to his phone. Pillow placed over his lap.
"Morning," he inhales upon sight of you, a smile stretching across his face so tight you know it's forced. "Sleep okay?"
"Yep," you chirp, forcing a stretched smile of your own. "Like a log."
jamie's y(2k) sleepover - requests for this event are open
jack abbot riding part 2 (feat robby + inspo from a request!)
nsfw, 18+
jack’s hand dwarfed the phone. that’s the first thing you notice.
the second thing is the shit eating grin on his face.
“comfy?” he asks, chin angled down towards you.
you roll your eyes, not wanting to admit that, yes, his boot is very comfortable to straddle. you just whine and put your head on his knee, eyes big and watery as you look up at him.
a crackle comes through the phone. “is that her? i thought i told her to be quiet.”
robby. so fucking demanding, you thought.
“to be fair, brother, i asked her a question.”
you preen - jack’s always there to back his little girl up - even if you technically were told to shut up.
“that didn’t sound like an answer though.”
jack pauses. “good point.”
you find yourself being yanked forward by a firm grip of hair, fingers touching your scalp. the momentum causes your bare pussy to slide across the top of his boot, a pathetic trail of arousal left in its wake.
“i asked if you were comfy, baby. be polite, and answer the question.” jack’s tone was even, almost even a little amused. you could hear robby snort through the phone.
“very comfy.” you mumble, neck strained by the way he’s pulling you.
jack peers around you to inspect his boot. “messy, too. you know you’re going to have to clean that, right?”
you flush, cheeks hot as you can only imagine the ways jack will make you clean his boot after all is said and done.
“should make her lick it up,” robby offers. “like the horny little mutt she is.”
jack and you groan almost simultaneously, both embarrassingly aroused at the thought. jack pushes you by the head down onto his boot, cunt smushed into the toe.
“she’s about to hump like a horny little mutt,” jack grins. “c’mon girl. show us what you’ve got.”
you don’t even hesitate, whining as your cunt slides against the boot, clit bumping the laces every now and then, eliciting a pathetic yelp that robby laughs at.
“how’s our girl look, jack?”
jack tugs you up by the hair again, eyes glazed over as your hips continue to jerk, hindbrain taking over. “like she’s fucked stupid.”
robby laughs again - meanly, you note. “eyes crossing?”
“not yet. figured she’d need my cock in her to really go dumb.”
you start to pant, fingers drifting to your nipples as your climax starts to build.
“ah! no ma’am.” jack tuts, slapping at your fingers. “you know you can’t touch those. those are mine.”
you whine, instead rubbing your tits against his knee, seeking stimulation anyway you can find it.
“jesus mike. she looks pathetic.”
robby exhales, car engine revving in the background. “fuck. wish i wasn’t driving so i could see.”
“yeah, she’s something right now. cunt swollen, mouth open - i don’t think there’s a thought in her little head right now.” jack grins, his hand coming to cup her cheek. “you with us, sweetheart?”
you keen, cunt pressed down hard, rolling your clit into his boot until you come, collapsing into his leg.
you can vaguely hear him and robby talking in the background, but your head is swimming, thighs drenched.
“fuck. that sounded like a big one.”
“oh yeah, brother.” jack lifted you slightly off his boot to see the damage. “she’s gonna have one a hell of a clean up.”
matter of fact let's put peepaw in a black kurta pls. the slutty brown boy uniform. bring him to the function and all the aunties will swoon over your handsome doctor bf
at the function, he gets bombarded by wide-eyed, awestruck, hopeful medical students (and their parents) "is it true that you're an ER attending?? can you give me some advice?"
and through a mouthful of lamb biryani, jack replies: "yeah. don't do it"
