summary: Frank reminds you he's always there when things go wrong. What doesn't a kiss fix?!
warning: established relationship, reader's professional role is kept vague, pregnancy (not reader), violence and injury, typical hospital setting drama, brief implication of reader being shorter than frank, possible inaccurate hospital descriptions.
notes: Oh Frank Langdon... how you have cured my writers block. Also yes, I know this is kind of a cliche trope for medical drama fics. But I'm testing the waters while I work on a couple other things for Frank.
(And if this is terrible it's cause I wrote it during some downtime at work today lol)
It wasn't rare for you to feel uneasy with patients. There was always an underlying caution that had been ingrained into you since your first day working in the pitt. It's what came with the territory of emergency medicine- gun shot wounds and broken bones, skulls split wide open and flesh torn like paper.
You’d treated homeless men, members of gangs, a woman so high you were sure she was in another astral plane. A teen who had shouted horrendous things at you as you set their broken bone, a couple who threw an entire tray of scalpels at you.
Those you could handle. The danger was obvious. Duck and cover. Keep your distance, stay alert.
But this. This was different.
It was wringing fingers and sideways glances. Truth glistening in held back tears, suspicion written in clenched fists. A bad energy vibrating in the little room marked by a number thirteen.
It was too early for this.
“You okay?” You glance up from the computer you were typing at, Princess leaning over the nurses station. “I saw you make a face back there after leaving that father and daughter.”
“Uh, yeah.” You shake your head, trying to shrug off the feeling. “I just got a weird vibe. I don't know why.” Princess makes a face.
“Sometimes people are like that. Just know we're here if things start taking a turn.”
“I know.”
“If you want, I can send Langdon in with you. I’m sure he'd love to play hero." You pause, looking up at Princess. You make a face, the two of you laughing.
“It's just an ultrasound. She's probably got indigestion or something. Frank would claim it's boring.”
“Nothing's boring to him if you're involved.” You roll your eyes, grabbing your clipboard.
“What’d be boring?”
Speak of the devil.
You look up, Frank rounding Princess and leaning over the station’s counter, head low enough for you to crane your neck and kiss him. You don't, just roll your eyes. Robby had a strict policy against public displays of affection. One Frank loved to toe the line of. And one you constantly had to steer him clear of.
Frank frowns, a big pout as he drums the counter with his hands.
“What, no kiss for the Doc?”
“No. I'm busy.”
You did want to kiss him. Frank had a very compelling pout on his face and it was taking all of your energy to not simply lean into him and give a peck. Even a tiny one. But, you were a professional through and through.
Frank sighs, “Busy with something boring apparently. Come on let me spice it up, kiss me.”
Princess snorts, shaking her head.
“Your husband and his ego.” You give her a look.
“You're telling me.”
Frank crosses his arms, smiling in spite of the jab. You stand, letting Frank slide his hand along the curve of your shoulder as you gather your papers. He was reading your clipboard, an interested hum vibrating in his chest.
“Miss Francis, seventeen. Coming in with abdominal pain, cramping and nausea. Uh oh, we all know what that means.”
You give Frank a look as he grins, mouthing the diagnosis you refused to admit you'd been guessing as well.
Pregnant.
Princess shakes her head with a disapproving sigh. You roll your eyes.
“You don't know that. Not everyone was a sex heathen like you during high school.” Frank shrugs.
“Just saying. You saw her. Looks like she’s the popular type. Plenty of boyfriend opportunities. Dad looks strict enough to warrant the need to sneak around and be rebellious.”
Princess snorts. "Judge much?”
“I’m just saying,” he raises his hands defensively. You grab a fresh pair of gloves, rounding the station counter. “I’d bet twenty dollars she's pregnant.” Princess perks up at that, glancing at the two of you.
“Hey, I’ll take that bet.”
Frank nods, shaking her hand. You sigh.
“I am not betting on my patient. Now if you excuse me, I’ve got a young girl to take care of.” Frank sighs, reaching out and squeezing your hand as you pass by.
“‘Kay. Be careful.”
You give him a small smile, squeezing back.
“Always.”
You make your way to the small curtained room, waving hello to Collins and Robby who were discussing an amputee who'd come in that morning. You reach the curtain, glancing back at Princess, now exchanging money with Dana behind the station.
Frank was turned back to the screen displaying the incoming patients, clearly cherry picking his next case. You shake your head, ducking behind the curtain.
“Alright,” you smile politely, eyes darting between the girl on the examination table and the man beside her. “Sorry for the wait. We'll get this set up here and we should have a diagnosis and get you help with that pain.”
“Sure,” the man grunts, arms folded. “Just hurry it up. We’ve already been waiting for three hours. I got work and she's got to study for her exams.” The girl looks down at her hands, embarrassed.
You smile thinly.
“I’ll be as quick as I can. Miss Francis, do you mind laying down for me so we can take a peek at what's going on?” She nods, getting situated.
You move the wand over her gelled belly, apologizing for how cold it was. You frown, eye darting between the screen and her father. He was glowering at you. Like anything you said would just plummet his already broken mood.
Nothing looked out of the ordinary. Everything was in place, no oddity in her stomach lining or appendix or-
Oh.
You swallow thickly, moving the wand over the lower part of her abdomen, staring at the screen.
Frank was about to be twenty dollars richer.
You clear your throat, looking down at the girl, her arms wrapped around herself.
“Honey, do you remember when you said your last period was?”
“Um, I dunno. I lost track I think.”
“That's okay," you press your lips together, staring at the twelve week old fetus that told you exactly when she’d had her last period.
“Would you say about three months ago sounds right?”
“I- I dunno. Maybe,” she swallows nervously. You nod, glancing at her father. There was something dark brewing in his eyes, something that told you he already knew what was happening.
“What are you saying? She's pregnant?” He asks gruffly.
The girl blanches. You stand there, unsure if it would be wise to answer that question.
“Um, why don't I call my attending, see if he can get a better picture-”
The man curses, turning from the two of you, your words dying before you can reach the curtain. Your pulse rises, watching as the girl’s chest begins to heave, her eyes darting between you and her father. She was scared. Really scared.
“Daddy-”
“Don’t!” He roars, pushing against the cart by the wall. Tools clatter and you gasp as he grabs a fistful of his daughter's hair. “You slut! You slut!”
“Oh my- security!” You scream, throwing the curtain open. Dana looks up at you with horror from across the room, hand already reaching to call Ahmad.
You lunge towards the man, adrenaline coursing through you as you try to pry his hand off of the girl.
“I’m sorry!” She sobs, wailing as her father tugs her.
“You're too young. You can't- our whole future is on the line!”
“Sir, I need you to calm down. You're not helping-” he whirls around on you, anger glaring in his eyes.
“You have to be lying. Tell me you're lying!” He grips your scrubs, spit flying.
“Let go of me!”
He shoves you, turning back to his daughter as Robby enters the room. There's confusion and concern written on his face, shoulders tense as he takes in the distressing scene.
“Hey! What's going on?”
The man moves to lunge for his daughter and you reach out to grab his arm, Robby moving at the same time, voice calm as he tries to deescalate the situation. It doesn't work. The man’s elbow jerks back as he dodges Robby, the sharp edge smacking you straight in the face.
It's a blur as you stumble backwards, nose and lip stinging, tears welling up from the bright flashing pain. You fall to the floor, scrambling back on your hands to avoid the commotion of feet and hands. You groan as you hold your jaw, the metal tang of blood already filling your mouth.
Security finally arrives, tearing the man away from the girl, dragging him out, his cursing still echoing down the hall.
The girl is sobbing into Robby’s arms. Princess hurries in to help sooth her, Dana right behind, her voice in your ear as she crouches to check on you. You can't tell what she's saying, your head spinning, the girl's wails still ringing in your ear.
You're in shock, you think. Must be. Everything is suddenly too bright, too painful. Your nose feels like it's twice the size it should be, lip burning where it's been torn.
“Honey, can you move? How bad does it hurt?” Dana asks, her hands resting against you protectively.
You barely register the question, eyes darting to the open curtain as Frank comes running from somewhere in the pitt, a glove flying from his pocket, stethoscope bouncing against his chest.
“Hey,” he pants, crouching down beside you. You try not to cringe as his knees hit the floor with a painful sounding crunch. “Hey, oh man.”
Frank cups your face, failing to hold back a grimace as he takes in the damage. You lean into his touch, Dana still rubbing your back, like she was afraid to leave you.
“Is it bad?” You manage, blood slipping down your chin.
Frank makes a face, thumb stroking your cheek.
“It's not your best look.” You hum, letting Frank access you. Always a doctor. “That jerk split your lip. Gave you a bruised nose too- possibly a black eye.”
You give a pained groan as his fingers graze a tender spot of your cheek. He lets out a shaky breath, turning back to the pitt’s central hall, eyes darting around. You reach out, clinging to his scrubs when you see his low drawn brows, the pure anger clearly written on his face.
Frank turns, watching as you shake your head.
“Don't leave. Please.”
His eyes soften, holding your hand tightly as he shushes you.
“Hey, I’m not going anywhere. Not right now.”
“Don't worry hon,” Dana pats your shoulder and stands. “Me and Robby’ll give him hell for you.”
You hum, watching as she marches out to the nurses station. A woman on a mission.
Frank looks at you carefully as you lick your lip, flinching at the sting.
“Do you think you can stand?” You nod, letting him help you up. The poor girl was still sobbing on the bed, Princess holding her carefully, giving you a sympathetic look, already reading your mind.
“She'll be okay. I’ll finish taking care of her. You go get yourself cleaned up.”
“Okay,” you say quietly, letting Frank guide you out of the room and into the lounge room. Away from the loud chaos of the pitt. Just the two of you. His arm was wrapped around you protectively; like anyone who tried to approach you would have to physically tear him from you.
Not that you minded.
Frank pushes the door open, helping you into a chair carefully, his fingers working deftly on the emergency supply box on the wall. You huff as you pull out your phone, looking into the screens dark reflection at the mess of blood on your face.
You frown as you gently prod the yellow bruise already blooming along the side of your nose. Broken blood vessels and a deep purple bruise were also evident along the hollow of your under eye. And your lip-
You'd cringe but it hurt too much to move your lip. To smile even.
“Hey,” Frank says as he rolls a chair closer to you, gauze and a needle kit in his hand. “Don’t look at it. It’s not gonna help.”
You sigh, letting Frank turn your head as he sits, his blue eyes carefully inspecting the damage again.
“I don’t know what I was thinking. I shouldn’t have gone in there alone. I knew something was up, knew…” you trail off, swallowing thickly. Frank looks at you, for once just listening.
Not that he didn’t listen to you regularly; of course he did. You were his wife after all. One of the rare people he spared from his incessant teasing and strange nicknames.
You continue, “I should have had you come with me. Or Princess. Maybe she would have known how to have handled it better.”
“You did what you could,” Frank takes a wet towel and cleans the wound on your lip, apologizing when you flinch. “You got her help as quick as you could. Hell, I think you would have tackled the man if you could.” You snort and Frank smiles.
“Yeah. I might have. If I knew Robby wouldn't kill me with the paperwork he’d have to fill out with HR.” Frank laughs, telling you to hold still as he dabs antiseptic and a numbing agent on your lip. You do, fingers digging into your scrub pants when he carefully places a stitch in your torn lip.
“It’s small. Real small. You probably don’t really need the stitch, but just in case.”
You watch his fingers as they work, pressing a small clear bandage over the stitch, the sticky thing feeling weird on your numbed skin. You catch the glint of his wedding ring, the sight still causing your heart to skip a beat after all these years.
“Okay," Frank huffs, throwing his balled up gloves across the room and into the trash. "You know the drill, no touching your lip or rubbing or lipgloss-anything like that til it’s healed and the stitch dissolves.” You frown. He cocks his head, an amused smile on his face. “What?”
“So... no kissing?” He clicks his tongue, shrugging.
"Unfortunately no. think you can handle 48 hours without this?" He gestures to himself. You kick his shin lightly, eliciting a laugh from him as he rolls away, moving to wash his hands.
"You're the worst."
"Hey, you're the one who agreed to marry me. I thought you knew what you were signing up for."
You laugh, wincing with how tender your face still was. Frank looks over at you as he dries his hands, making sure you were okay. You look down at your hands, trying to ignore the slight flush on your cheeks.
"I just... maybe I'm regretting not kissing you earlier."
You glance up, Frank's eyebrows raised with a 'told you so' grin spreading across his face.
“Oh you do?”
Oh, you already regretted saying that.
“Okay-”
“I knew you were barley resisting me.”
“Oh my gosh, Princess was right,” You roll your eyes as Frank laughs, hiding behind your hands.
“My poor wife needs a kiss. Here, I’ll give you one. Let me kiss it better-”
“Frank!” you give him a look as he crouches in front of you, carefully moving your hands away from your face. “But I shouldn’t-”
He hushes you, cupping your jaw and pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your lip, avoiding the dark bruise forming and the stitch. You hum, leaning into his touch as he presses his lips softly against the bridge of your nose and your bruised eye. Your foreheads press together, resting gently against each other.
A rare calm in the emergency room. Under other circumstances you'd find it quite romantic.
Frank rests his hand on your thigh, rubbing a comforting circle with his thumb. “You sure you’re okay?” You nod.
“Always when you’re here.”
"Kay good. Cause Princess owes me twenty and I intend to collect." You hum.
"You better buy me a coffee later Doc." He stands, arms open with defensiveness.
"Don't I always treat you with my winnings?" You snort.
"Yes-"
"Alrighty then. Coffee in the AM. I don't think anyone's selling coffee after ten." You laugh, letting Frank pull you up out of the chair.
"It's a date."
He hums, hands resting on your waist for a moment too long.
"I love you."
You grin, standing on your tiptoes and pressing a kiss to his cheek. Frank smiles, thumb brushing against the fabric of your scrubs. You whisper it back, hand resting on his bicep.
"Love you too."
A throat clears from the entrance of the break room and the two of you freeze. You turn, looking back as Dr. Robby hangs in the doorway, an amused smile on his face.
"Everything alright in here?"
"Uh, yeah." Frank nods, patting your back and taking a step to the side.
"Yup. All good now."
"You sure?" You nod.
"Yeah. I'm fine. We'll be out there in a second."
"Okay," Robby says in a sing song voice. "Just don't do anything that'll make me have to call HR on the two of you again."
Frank rolls his eyes, already marching out of the room after Robby.
"That was one time. And it wasn't even that bad-"
"The two of you were in a storage closet."
"We were newly married-"
"God, that argument still doesn't help your case."
~ idk what this is but i’m obsessed with him. let me know if I should write more for the pitt.
~18 mdni, smut under the cut, cw: spit play? fingering wc: 540, not edited* 
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
If there's one thing about Frank Langdon, its that he knew how to FUCK.
He was a whore in the best way possible. Fucking fratboy who fucked half the student population during med school and not even ashamed of it. Because to him he didn't see it as shameful, he thought of his endless hook ups as practice, something he could always get better at.
So when you guys first got together, you had no real expectations of what sex would be like with him. In quite honestly, you didn't expect much. In your mind Frank was a cocky man that had to be over compensating for something.
Oh were you wrong. When you first pulled down his pants his dick flopped out of his briefs like it was the most natural thing in the world. He was long and hard in your hand. Veiny and almost purple at the tip from how turned on he was.
He doesn’t let you suck him off the first time you guys are intimate with each other, no he had other plans. Manhandling you on the bed, face down ass up. You weren't a virgin and you didn't want to be treated as one, is what you told him before this whole ordeal.
Tearing your panties down he lets a fat glob of spit fall on your pussy, watching it drip down towards your clit. And instead of placing his hot mouth at your hole, he spreads you open with his fingers and spits again. Getting you nice and wet and ready for his fingers.
Pressing his middle finger in - you immediately clentch around the diget. His thumb finding your clit and rubbing smooth circles around the bundle of nerves.
God no one had ever made you fall apart this quickly from just fingering. Head on your pillow and soft moans leave your mouth as he continues.
When he adds his ring finger in you can tell it's a means to an end because he knows you're gonna come all over his hand. I mean my god you're a withering mess from just one finger.
He curls his fingers downwards and presses hard. No movement, just a constant pressure right on your G-spot. You thought you'd felt true pleasure before this but, this is pure magic. More please you rasp out in a broken voice and you don't even have to look back at him to know that he's smirking at you. Cocky as ever.
He continues to hold down on your g spot, while rubbing your clit and before you know it, white flashes in your eyes and you’re coming. Your ears are ringing from how hard your orgasm hits you.
Slowly sliding his fingers out of you, he moves you on your back and kisses you, still hard between his legs. You try and reach for it, but he stops you and whispers not until I'm inside of you. And you shiver at the though, because if he was able to make you come that hard and fast with just his hands, you can't imagine what his cock is gonna be like.
Maybe his cockyness really wasn't misplaced at all. Maybe he really was just that guy.
Summary: You treat yourself to a massage once a month to relax. Jack is slightly jealous you don’t ask him.
A/N: I guess I need Jack Abbot to bring me out of retirement (a little). Inspired by my own love of massages. Done on mobile, so I apologize for the formatting 🫣
As you pack your bag to head to your massage appointment, Jack enters the dining room.
You can feel him hovering when he says, “Are you sure I can’t provide you the relaxation you need?”
You chuckle, “Jack, you don’t have the purest intentions when you offer me a massage.” You turn around to place your hands on his chest. “I appreciate the offer though.”
“Can I at least pay for it?”
“Jack, that really isn’t necessary.”
He scoops you into his arms. “I want my baby to feel taken care of. Here.” He hands you his credit card.
“Well, if you insist,” plucking the card from between his fingers. You place a playful kiss on his cheek. “I’ll see you after your shift.”
————————————————————————-
Later, as Jack is preparing for the hand off of day shift to night shift, Robby pats his shoulder.
“No y/n tonight?” He pretends to look around.
Jack looks up from his computer, “Nah. It’s massage day. They’ll be in tomorrow.”
“Oooooo, a massage! Fancy,” Dr. Langdon chimes in.
“Jack, are you not offering to massage your girl?” Dr. Ellis jokingly asks.
“Oh, I did.” He shrugs. “She said my intentions aren’t ’pure,’ whatever that means.”
Robby stifles a laugh. “Why does that not surprise me?”
“Um, I don’t get it,” Whitaker looks around innocently. Ellis leans over and whispers something into his ear. “Oh! Haha, right,” he laughs nervously.
“What do you mean ‘right?’” Jack questions.
“You know… I, uh” Whitaker stumbles.
“Are you saying you want to massage, y/n?” Jack leans towards the quivering doctor.
“What?! No! I just…”
“Oh, so you wouldn’t massage y/n if they were your partner?” Jack pushes.
“No, I would! They deserve it!”
Jack moves from behind the desk and says quietly, “You’d be so lucky.”
With that and a chuckle, Jack heads to his first patient of the night, hoping his less than pure intentions come into play when he arrives home to you tomorrow.
