Summary: You’re married to Frank, and Robby is your uncle, but people in the ER don’t know this and it ends up causing some problems
Warnings: kissing, workplace romance, false cheating rumors, family relationships, workplace rumors, no use of y/n
Word count: 2.0K
Requested by @thecranberrypineapple
a/n: finally managed to get some writing done! I haven’t had much free time with the holidays, traveling, and everything else, but I promise I’ll get to all the requests in my inbox...eventually 🫠
You’ve known Frank for a long time—long before you ever stepped into the ER. You met in college, both bright and eager to learn. From the moment you first talked to him, you knew you wanted to keep him around, wanted to make him a constant part of your life.
Luckily for you, you managed to get your wish.
Years of friendship slowly shifted into something more romantic, and before you knew it, it had turned into a lasting relationship. And when Frank finally got down on one knee, there was only one answer you wanted to give him.
That answer was yes.
You loved being Frank’s wife—loved knowing that at the end of the day, he was the one coming home with you. But there was one small issue: you both worked together.
Even though you’d started working in the same hospital back when you were just dating, and there was nothing that explicitly prohibited coworkers from being in a relationship as long as it didn’t interfere with their work in the ER, you and Frank had decided to keep your relationship quiet.
Not a secret exactly—more like something you simply didn’t mention at work. The moment the two of you stepped into the ER, you both slipped into your “professional mode,” only interacting with each other in ways that could be seen as two coworkers who happened to be friendly.
People knew you were married. Frank wore his ring on his finger every day, and you always had yours hanging on a chain around your neck—so yes, people knew you were married. They just didn’t know it was to each other.
It was kind of funny, actually. You and Frank had turned it into a sort of game. He would talk about his wife, always praising her, knowing you were close enough to hear. His eyes would find yours, giving you that knowing look that never failed to make you smile. And you did the same—talking about how amazing your husband was, your eyes often catching the soft smirk that would grace Frank’s features as you did.
It was the way the two of you had found to still give each other love during your shifts without alerting the rest of the people at work that you were actually talking about each other.
But that wasn’t the only thing people didn’t know.
Frank turned off the car engine, the silence in the interior taking over for a moment. You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath—this would be the last moment of peace and quiet you’d have until another twelve hours had passed, and you wanted to savor it.
Frank grabbed your hand, causing your eyes to open as you turned to look at him. You gave him a soft smile as he gazed back at you.
“Ready to march into battle?”
You nodded, giving his hand one last squeeze before reaching for the door handle.
“Hey, you’re forgetting something.”
You gave Frank a confused look, which made him pucker his lips, exaggeratingly tilting toward you.
“My goodbye kiss.”
You knew what he’d said, but with his puckered lips it sounded more like, “Mu gubye kisth.”
You rolled your eyes, glancing around to make sure no one was nearby before leaning over the center console and giving Frank a quick kiss.
“Come on, Langdon. We’ll be late.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
As always, you and Frank walked in together. Nobody questioned the fact that you always arrived with each other—you’d given the bullshit excuse that you lived close by, and that it was easier for Frank to give you a ride than for both of you to drive to work. Plus, it was better for the environment. One less car on the streets.
Of course, people believed you. You gave them no reason not to.
When you made your way over to check the board, Robby caught sight of you. He smiled and made his way over with ease. You let him tug you into a quick side hug, your arm wrapping briefly around his waist.
“Hey, Honey. How you doing today?”
You pulled back so you could look him in the eyes.
“I’m doing good. How about you, Robby?”
Your eyes caught the bags under his eyes, and you immediately knew he hadn’t slept well the night before. But Robby hated people worrying about him, so when he said he was fine, you pretended to believe it.
“You searching for a target?”
At Robby’s question, your gaze flicked back to the board, briefly catching Frank disappearing into one of the rooms with Mel before settling on the writing on the screen.
“Gonna start easy, I think. A kid with a nosebleed might be ready for discharge. I’ll go check on him.”
“Alright then. The kid’s in good hands. See you around, Honey.”
You smiled as Robby gave your shoulder a soft squeeze before heading off, leaving you to make your way toward your first patient. You didn’t even notice the glances, didn’t hear the whispers as you moved through the ER. But that didn’t mean they weren’t there.
See, here’s the thing—people in the ER love to gossip. It keeps them entertained, helps keep the pain and sadness at bay as you all try to make it through your shifts. And when people don’t have all the information, they can come up with some pretty wild rumors.
The most recent one was that you and Robby were secretly married to each other. Which was absurd—not only because of the age difference, but because Robby was family. Literally family. He was your uncle. Biologically. As in, your father’s brother.
But people didn’t know that. Only a select few did—people who mattered, like Dana and Jack and the higher-ups. They knew either because they’d seen you grow up, in Dana and Jack’s case, or because they’d been responsible for hiring you and were aware of your family ties to Robby.
But everybody else?
Oh yeah. They had no clue.
Which ended up causing some… issues.
Because the Robby rumor was bad—but the Frank one was so much worse.
It started harmlessly. Frank bringing you coffee during a lull. Leaning against the counter beside you while you charted, shoulders brushing. A hand resting briefly at the small of your back as he passed behind you in a crowded hallway.
Normal things. Small things.
Things that meant everything to the wrong people.
They started noticing it one by one. Santos clocked the way Frank’s voice softened when he spoke to you. Javadi caught the way Frank’s eyes followed you across the ER when you laughed at something a patient said. Whitaker saw Frank step a little too close when you were visibly shaken after a bad case.
And then, to make matters so much worse, someone saw you and Frank in a very private moment.
You hadn’t thought anything of it—ducking into an empty break room, adrenaline still buzzing through you after a rough trauma. Frank followed, shutting the door quietly behind him.
“Hey,” he murmured, hands already finding your waist. “You did good in there.”
You exhaled, leaning into him, fingers fisting in his scrub top as he kissed you—slow at first, then deeper. Familiar. Safe. His hand slid up your back, grounding you.
You were so caught up in Frank that you didn’t hear the door hinges open slightly. Didn’t hear the soft gasp, or the door shutting a little too quickly.
Someone had seen you with Frank. And because they thought you were married to Robby—and didn’t know Frank was married to you—the speculation took a sharp turn, fast.
An affair. A scandal. A nurse cheating with a married attending.
And somehow—somehow—people thought they’d finally figured out the truth.
They had no idea how wrong they were.
And because you had no idea these rumors even existed, you ended up unintentionally feeding into them.
When a tough case got to you, Robby had pulled you to the side, giving you a bear hug as tears swelled in your eyes. And when he left the room to keep working, and you started to take a breather, Frank had slipped in, his forehead resting against yours as he spoke comforting words.
And people saw it. They saw these small, soft moments—and twisted them into something they weren’t.
But like everything in life, there was a final straw.
It came as an accusation.
You were hunched over the chart, scribbling notes after checking on your patient, when a voice from the nurses’ station broke the quiet.
“You know… you should really own up to it.”
You froze, pen in midair. “Excuse me?”
They leaned a little closer, a smirk playing at the corner of their lips.
“Oh, come on. Don’t be coy. We all know you’re… you’re cheating on Robby.”
Your hand dropped to the counter. “What?!”
Someone else, leaning over nearby, snickered. You blinked, utterly confused.
“Cheating? On… Robby?”
The first person shrugged, eyes sparkling with mischief.
“Yeah. I mean… it’s obvious. You and Frank, right? We see it all the time.”
You held up a hand. “Okay, whoa. You need to relax. You’ve got this all wrong. Completely wrong.”
By that point, movement in the hallway caught your attention. Robby and Frank had both emerged from different rooms, strolling in the general direction of the nurses’ station. Their heads tilted slightly, noticing you animatedly talking to someone, lips moving, hands gesturing.
“Oh no,” you muttered under your breath. “This is going to get worse before it gets better.”
As they approached, you straightened, pinching the bridge of your nose.
“Okay,” you said, raising your voice just enough for everyone nearby to hear, “let’s get something straight. For everyone.”
The staff fell quiet, leaning in curiously.
“I am married—to Frank,” you said slowly, letting it sink in. “Robby is my uncle. I am not cheating on anyone. And yes, we all work together, but none of what you’re imagining is actually happening.”
A pause. Some eyes widened. Some shifted awkwardly.
And then there was Dana.
Dana had appeared quietly, arms crossed, a grin spreading across her face.
“Oh my god,” she said, barely holding back laughter. “This is gold. You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Robby calls you ‘Honey’ nonstop. What’s the deal with that?” the accuser jabbed.
You groaned, pressing a hand to your forehead. God, people really liked grasping at straws.
“‘Honey’ is my middle name. Robby’s been calling me that since I was a kid.”
The accuser froze, mouth opening and closing like a fish.
“Now that we’ve cleared that up, go back to work.” You turned to glance around at the people still gawking at you. “Everyone, back to work.”
The staff reluctantly returned to their tasks, whispers and smirks lingering just a little longer than usual. And Dana? Dana lingered a little longer too, clearly planning to tease you about this for weeks.
That’s when Frank appeared beside you, hands tucked in his pockets, smirk fully in place.
“Well,” he said, glancing around at the still-whispering staff, “guess the cat’s out of the bag now, huh?”
“Yeah,” you muttered, rolling your eyes but smiling. “I guess so.”
Frank leaned closer, voice dropping into a mock-serious tone.
“So… what’s stopping me from kissing you right here? In the middle of everybody?”
You laughed, shaking your head. “Decency.”
He raised an eyebrow, clearly offended. “Decency? Since when have I ever been decent?”
Before you could answer, he tugged you gently toward him. Lips met yours in a soft, fleeting kiss. You laughed against his mouth, and he grinned against yours before pulling back just enough to whisper:
“See? We should have told them about us ages ago.”
You shook your head, laughing softly. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Yeah,” he said, leaning his forehead against yours, “but you love me anyway.”
And you did.
You and Frank exchanged a look—quiet, silly, and utterly yours.
“Get back to work, Dr. Langdon.”
Frank gave you a mock salute. “Yes, Mrs. Langdon.”
You couldn’t help but smile and shake your head as he walked away. When he was finally out of view, you turned and stared at Dana.
“I hate you.”
She gave you a smile and pulled you into a hug.
“No, you don’t.”
You couldn’t hold back the smile that crept onto your face. Because yeah—you didn’t.
it wasn’t supposed to be anything more than sex. you barely even liked each other as friends. frank uses you, and you use him. but somewhere along the way, the lines got blurred.
warnings/tags: mdni, smut and implied smut, themes of addiction and recovery, emotional constipation from reader, vague references to prior relationships and trauma, coworkers with benefits to lovers, some angst and some fluff, oblivious idiots in love, frank is divorced, reader has a niece, takes place sometime after season 2, pov switches, reader is afab, resident reader, no use of y/n
author’s note: i needed to torture frank langdon, just a little bit, but i promise it’s a happy ending. also as always shoutout to my girl @fru1t4fr0gs for letting me virtually yap her ear off about this
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Frank’s therapist had cautioned him about replacing one addiction with another.
He hadn’t thought much of it at the time. He’s never been a smoker, but if he were, would that really be worse than being addicted to benzos? It’s not like American Spirits or cotton candy flavored vapes would drive him to steal from his job.
Yeah, yeah. Cancer. Lung cancer, esophageal cancer, all the cancers. Gum disease and tooth decay. He is still a doctor, even if it took him a long time to start feeling like one again. He knows the risks. And that is exactly why he hasn’t tried filling the void with nicotine.
He works out just enough to be able to say that he does and it not be a complete lie, but he’s never understood how people can get addicted to exercising. He understands the science behind it, but every time he steps on a treadmill, it just feels like an opportunity to think too much about every mistake he’s made in the last few years.
Video games have never really been his thing. He’s still paying off his stint in rehab, so betting and gambling are off the table. Alcohol, of course, is out of the question for obvious reasons.
When he hit one hundred days of sobriety, he really thought he was in the fucking clear. He let himself breathe a little for the first time in a long time, thinking he had finally learned his lesson.
Never did it cross his mind that he could become addicted to a person. Least of all one that he isn’t even supposed to like.
Least of all you.
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“This is a really fucking bad idea.”
Frank grunts, bottoming out as he fills you so full of him that it takes your breath away.
He stills, looking down at you in the glow of your living room television. His hands were on you the second your apartment door clicked shut - the two of you didn’t even make it down the hallway to your bedroom before you were pulling him onto the couch by the collar of his scrubs, his lips chasing yours with a degree of desperation that you might have found laughable if it weren’t for the fact that you had to bite back a moan the second that his tongue slipped between your lips.
He huffs a half breathless laugh. “We can stop if you want to, but I’m already inside you, so it’s a little late to realize this is a bad idea.”
You wiggle your hips, grinding down where his body meets yours. His eyes roll shut at the sensation, his muscles tensing beneath where your fingers grip his biceps.
“Didn’t say that I wanna stop,” you breathe. “Just said this is a bad idea. It’s called an observation.”
Frank snorts, retaliating by hiking one of your legs over his hip to deepen the angle. You hiss, your walls clenching around him. “You didn’t seem to think it was a bad idea when you were drenching my face a few seconds ago.”
You aren’t surprised in the least that his argumentative nature carries over into sex, but the dirty mouth on him does take you by surprise.
“So, what?” You hum, part challenge and part genuine curiosity. “You don’t think this is a bad idea?”
He shakes his head. He snakes a hand between your bodies, his thumb finding the sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of your folds. “It’s definitely a bad idea. I’m just finding it really hard to give a shit right now.”
You whimper at it all - the rough timbre of his voice, the the soft pad of his thumb brushing over your clit, the way he somehow still smells like musk and allspice even after working a full twelve hours in the emergency department and how his kiss-swollen lips glisten from his time spent between your thighs.
Come morning, you’ll regret this. Twelve hours from now, when you can’t concentrate on a routine intubation because you’re having flashbacks of pretty cerulean eyes peeking up at you as he brought you to climax with only his tongue, you’ll regret this. When you can’t take two steps tomorrow without the ache between your thighs reminding you where he’d been, you’ll regret this.
Probably should’ve thought about that before deciding that the best way to cope with stress of an exceptionally shitty day was by kissing him in the empty parking garage and inviting him back to your place, but you’ll deal with the aftermath of that when he’s no longer buried half a foot inside you.
You take his chin in your hand, stilling his face in front of yours. “Just so we are clear, this is a one time thing.”
Frank looks like he’s fighting the urge to laugh, a familiar, cocky smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You know you’re the one who kissed me and practically ripped my clothes off, right?”
Your hands ghost over the planes of his shoulders and up his neck before settling at the base of his skull where your fingers thread through the short locks of his hair. “Don’t let it get to your head. You were the closest conventionally attractive man I could find after that shitshow of a shift. Don’t confuse convenience with desire.”
He cocks a brow. “What I’m hearing is that you think I’m attractive.”
You roll your eyes, pulling your hands away from his hair and playfully shoving his shoulders. You don’t bother denying it, though. He is attractive. Annoyingly, irritatingly, frustratingly attractive.
“I’m serious. One time, Langdon.”
He doesn’t verbally respond right away. Instead, he leans down, closing the space between your lips and his. You taste yourself on him, sweet and salty with a hint of the gum he had been chewing when you first kissed him in the parking garage. It’s slower than the first time, and the second, and the third, making heat bloom where he’s hard inside you.
He pulls back just enough to murmur the words against your lips.
“One time.”
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Two months ago, Frank Langdon kissed you and swore that he was only going to fuck you one time.
Two months ago, he lied through his teeth.
The good news is that you’re as big of a liar as he is.
Because one time turned to two, and two to three, and now the Pittsburgh winter has turned to spring and he’s forgotten all about that broken promise.
He knew before the words had fully left his lips that they were bullshit. How could he mean them when your kiss tasted like watermelon lip gloss and being bare inside you made him feel the best he’s felt since he got sober?
But still, he tried. For a whopping seven days, he tried his hardest.
One week. That’s all it took for him to feel like he was going to lose his fucking mind if he didn’t touch and taste you again.
Then, in a moment of weakness - the kids were at Abby’s, he’d spent his day off cleaning his entire apartment in an attempt to keep himself busy, he’d already gone to an NA meeting earlier that afternoon, and he couldn’t get this one specific sound you had made when he nipped at the column of your throat out of his head - he did something he’s never done before.
He texted you.
Are you off work yet?
Short and vague, but you’re far from being dumb. He was confident that you could read between the lines without him having to spell it out for you.
Much to his relief, you replied before he could overthink the simple text message.
Keeping track of my work schedule now?
He scoffed to himself, smirking down at his phone. As if you haven’t worked the same set schedule the entire time he’s known you. At least, that was his excuse for knowing you’d be leaving work at approximately that time.
You replied fast. I take it that you are off?
He stared down at the screen as you typed, grateful that technology doesn’t allow you to see him waiting for your response in real time.
Leaving now. But if you’re about to say what I think you’re going to say, then you should know that I have been both puked and peed on today.
That should have deterred him, but it didn’t. In fact, it only further encouraged him, because you didn’t immediately tell him to fuck off like he halfway expected you to.
I happen to have a shower.
Then, before you can type a rebuttal, he sends a second text with his address.
You didn’t even reply, but twenty-three minutes later you knocked on his front door.
(It goes without saying that yes, you insisted on showering, and yes, he insisted on joining you, and yes, he ate you out until your legs turned to jelly and he had to help hold you up).
After both of you were thoroughly spent, he expected you to say something similar to the first time - when he had you pinned to your couch, balls deep inside you, and you told him that it would be a one time thing. He expected you to insist that what just happened would not be happening again, that it was a mistake for you to come over, and that he should lose your number entirely.
So it took him by surprise when you got out of his bed, put your clothes back on, and said, “it goes without saying that this stays between us, right? If this is going to be a thing, the last thing I want is Perlah and Princess spreading it all over the hospital.”
“Please,” Frank had scoffed, pulling his own t-shirt over his head. “Like I want the entire emergency department making a bunch of ridiculous bets about us. Trust me, this stays between us.”
And that was that. There was no further discussion of what exactly this is, but Frank knows.
He knows what it is, and he knows what it isn’t. For two months now, you’ve been on the same page. He comes to your place, or occasionally, you’ll go to his. One time, you even rode him in the backseat of his dad mobile, as you had referred to the midsize SUV.
But work is off limits. You have made that abundantly clear by acting indifferent to his existence anytime a coworker or patient is within ten feet of you, which happens to be damn near always. When the two of you are at work, he pretends like he doesn’t know that you clench around him every time he tells you how well you’re taking him or where your birthmark is located.
As soon as he walks out of those hospital doors, though, all the pretending comes to a stop.
It most often happens after long shifts, when one or both of you needs to decompress and not think of whatever horrors had been witnessed that day. But every now and then, like that day you and Frank both broke the initial agreement of this being a one time thing, he’ll find himself alone with thoughts of you that are a little too loud and unrelenting.
So instead of only thinking about the way your breathy, fucked out voice sounds saying his name when you’re on the verge of coming apart, he calls and hopes that you answer.
And, for some reason that Frank refuses to let himself dwell on, you always do. He knows that there will inevitably come a day that you don’t.
But he doesn’t let himself dwell on that, either.
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“Meet me in the empty on-call room in fifteen minutes.”
The words are murmured low enough for only him to hear. He glances up from his charting, utter disbelief on his face. He opens his mouth to question you, but you’re already walking away.
You’re weak. Spineless as a damn jellyfish, really.
And it’s all Frank Langdon’s fault.
If he didn’t kiss you like you’re the air he needs to breathe, go down on you like you’re the last thing he’s ever going to taste, and fuck you like he’s trying to ruin all other men for you, then it wouldn’t be so embarrassingly easy for you to go back on your word.
But here you are. Going back on your word. Again.
The first time it happened - when he texted you his address a little over two months ago and you wasted no time driving to his apartment even after telling him and yourself that you would not be hooking up with him again - you forgave yourself. You allowed yourself the small comfort of knowing it was him that reached out. It was him who caved first, even if you had thought about doing so every day since you first slept together.
But this time? Telling him to meet you in an empty on-call room in the middle of the day at work? Where any of your coworkers could potentially catch you? This boundary being crossed is all on you.
You must have a competence kink. That’s the only logical explanation for why you’re willing to let this happen right here, right now.
Your watch reads 2:17. He’s two minutes late.
Two more minutes. If he isn’t here in two minutes, then you’re leaving this room and forgetting that you ever even considered doing this.
The door creaks open and he slips in with only twenty seconds to spare.
“Wasn’t sure if you were actually going to come,” you hum from where you’re perched on the edge of the mattress.
Frank locks the door behind him. He still looks as confused as he did when you first told him to meet you here, but there’s now a hint of amusement on his features, too.
“Sorry,” he huffs a laugh, slowly walking towards you with his hands shoved in his scrub pockets. “I came as quickly as I could. My patient in Central 14 pulled up WebMD on his phone to try to argue about his diagnosis so I got a little tied up with that.”
You snort. “Don’t you love when they do that?”
“So…” he drawls, eyes glancing around the small room, empty save for the two of you. He comes to a stop directly in front of where you sit on the bed. “You gonna tell me what we’re doing in here right now?”
You look up at him from beneath your lashes. “What do you think?” Then, before he can answer, your hands go to the waistband of his pants. You don’t look away from his face, blue eyes dilating and pretty lips parted in surprise.
“Seriously?” He breathes, looking around the room again as if there’s anyone around to catch you in the act. “Here?”
You shrug, tugging his pants down just enough to expose the soft patch of dark curls below the waistband. “What can I say? Watching you perform that closed cervical reduction really did something to me.”
He blushes. Even with the curtains closed and only a small bedside table lamp illuminating the room, you can see pink bloom across the apples of his cheeks.
“That’s all it takes to make you stop avoiding me like the plague while we’re here?” He scoffs low. “A closed cervical reduction?”
You hum a laugh. “Sorry, does it hurt your feelings that I don’t spend my shifts fawning over you like every early-to-mid twenties female that walks into this place?”
Frank chuckles lowly. “Not quite.” He cups your face in his hands, thumbs brushing against your cheekbones as he leans down far enough that his lips hover just above yours. “You might not fawn over me, but you’re the one who got me alone just so you can give me head.”
Under normal circumstances, you’d keep going until you get the last word. But right now, you have a list of patients who need tending to and a boss who has already been on your ass about patient satisfaction scores today.
And as much as it physically pains you to admit, he isn’t wrong.
“Mm-hm,” you hum in agreement. “I did. Now are you going to let me or not?”
With your fingers still hooked into the waistband of his pants and boxers, you pause. It’s not like he’s ever said no to receiving head from you before - and the unmistakable bulge behind the fabric of his scrubs would normally be enough of an answer - but he is just now finding his way back into Robby’s good graces, so the risks here may outweigh the reward.
He exhales a shaky laugh, his nose brushing against yours as he nods slightly. “If I ever say no to that, page neurology, because something is very wrong with me.”
You roll your eyes, pretending you aren’t slightly charmed by the dorky remark. “Sit down, then.”
The two of you trade places. He lowers himself onto the edge of the mattress, and with help from you, his scrubs and boxers fall to a puddle at his feet. You spread his thighs gently with your palms, nestling yourself between them. You take his hard length in your hand, giving a few languid strokes as you look up at him.
“I mean it, you know,” you murmur, voice uncharacteristically earnest. For a moment, you drop the sarcastic facade. “The closed cervical reduction was very impressive. You were incredible.”
He swallows thickly, his cock twitching in your hand as he stares down at you in the dim lighting. Despite the truth to your words, you expect him to brush the compliment off with a cocky grin and smartass retort that undercuts the rare instance of genuinity between you.
Instead, he leans forward without a word, takes your face in his hands, and crushes his lips against yours. He tilts your head slightly, sweeping his tongue across your bottom lip to encourage you to open up for him. You can’t help but lose yourself in the effortless familiarity of his kiss that you’ve grown to crave more than you ever thought possible.
When he pulls back, he doesn’t release the careful hold on your face. “Thank you,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your lips. “Means a lot coming from you.”
For one impossibly long second, the two of you stare at each other until the sincerity of the moment starts to feel suffocating.
And because you don’t know what the hell you’re supposed to do with that, you swallow it down and do what you came here for.
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Frank sees you before he finishes parking his car next to the ball fields.
At first, he thinks he’s seeing things. It must be someone who looks like you - someone with the same hair color and skin tone as you, who just so happens to be roughly the same height - because it couldn’t possibly actually be you.
Why the hell would you be at a Pee Wee soccer game bright and early on a Saturday morning?
He knows exactly why he’s here - it’s one of Penny’s last games of the season and between a pain in the ass custody arrangement and an even bigger pain in the ass work schedule, Frank has only been able to attend a few of his daughter’s soccer games this spring season. He would have missed today’s game, too, if Robby hadn’t agreed to him switching a couple shifts around and Abby hadn’t been willing to let him take Penny for the day during her week with the kids.
You don’t have children, though. He’s sure enough of that. There’s no way you wouldn’t have said something about having a kid at some point during your time spent together these last few months. He’s been over to your place enough times to have noticed toys scattered around the living room or sippy cups in the sink or tiny clothes left lying on the bathroom floor.
But as Penny sprints ahead to join the rest of her teammates and Frank crosses the field to where all of the player’s families sit in lawn chairs, he realizes that his eyes are not playing tricks on him.
Even from behind, he knows it’s you. He’s spent enough collective hours memorizing the curves of your body to recognize you anywhere - even wearing something so different than what he normally sees you in: scrubs or nothing.
He comes to a stop a couple feet behind you to take you in. It’s an unseasonably warm day, with temperatures already in the mid 70s before nine o’clock in the morning, and you’re dressed to match the weather. His gaze trails from your polished toes that peek out of your sandals and up the expanse of your legs before settling on the sun-kissed skin of your shoulders.
You’ve yet to notice his presence as you wave to a kid in the distance as all of the players start to take their positions on the field. “Good luck, Holly!”
He smirks, his eyes darting back and forth between you and the little girl with curly pigtails.
“Who’s Holly?”
You jump as if you had been electrocuted, your head snapping to look in his direction. He can’t see your eyes well because of your sunglasses, but he can clearly picture the look of surprise on your face.
“Jesus, Frank. What are you doing here?”
He snorts, coming to stand beside you, as he brushes off the fact that you called him Frank instead of Langdon. “My daughter is playing. What are you doing here?”
“My niece is playing.”
He looks back out to the field - your niece, Holly, you had called her - is standing right beside Penny. They’re wearing matching jerseys. Same team.
“Huh. I didn’t know that you have a niece.”
Now it’s your turn to snort. You cross your arms over your chest with a shrug. “We don’t exactly spend very much time talking about our personal lives, do we?” You glance around, seemingly looking for something - or someone. “Where’s Abby?”
“Oh,” Frank clears his throat, sliding his hands into the pockets of his pants just so he has something to do with them. “It’s Abby’s week with the kids, but she let me take Penny for the day. She’s uh…she’s not here. She’s spending some quality time with Tanner today.”
You nod, your posture relaxing slightly. He isn’t sure if he’s just imagining things, but he can’t help but think you look a little relieved to hear that his ex wife isn’t here.
Not that he’d blame you for not wanting to see the ex wife of the man you’ve been casually fucking on a regular basis for months now. He definitely wouldn’t want that, either, and feels extremely relieved himself that Abby isn’t here to witness this interaction.
“That was very nice of her,” you say after a beat of silence with a small smile. “I’m sure Penny is happy that you’re here with her.”
Frank glances around now. You had been standing alone when he approached you, and you don’t seem to be here with anyone else. “So, is Holly your sister’s…or brother’s…kid?”
He mentally curses how fucking awkward he sounds. He knows what the most intimate parts of you taste like, knows what you sound like when you come for a third time in a row because of him, but he doesn’t know how to ask you a straight forward question about your personal life.
But he wants to. He shouldn’t, but he does. He wants to know if you have siblings, and how many, and if you have other nieces or possibly nephews. He wants to learn things about you because he asks and you answer or because you volunteer the information freely.
He wants to know what you do after a hard day at work, when you aren’t doing him after a hard day at work. He wants to know things because you want him to know things. Not just the shit that he observes at work (like how you take your coffee) or during the ten minutes that he lays in your bed after finishing inside you (like that you have a white noise machine that is basically always on).
“She’s my brother’s,” you answer, looking away from him to watch as Holly, Penny, and a few other girls all sprint after the soccer ball. For a second, he thinks you’re going to leave it at that, but then you continue. “He and Holly’s mom are going through a pretty nasty breakup. He only has Holly on weekends right now, and he works a lot, so…I’m just trying to help him out a little.”
“Ah,” Frank hums, surprised by the answer for more reasons than one. “Yeah, that’s tough. I know firsthand how…messy that kind of thing can get.”
“Yeah,” you agree with a sigh. “It sucks. But it’s probably for the best. They weren’t good together. I’m just hoping they can learn to co-parent for Holly’s sake.” You pause, eyes cutting back to him. “Seems like you and Abby do a pretty decent job with that.”
He has to refrain from laughing at that. He exhales slowly through his nose, gaze drifting back to the field. There’s a lot he could say in response to that - about lawyers and custody hearings and the same arguments that he doesn’t know if he and Abby will ever stop having - but if he starts then he might not stop, and he highly doubts you care to hear all of that. You’re here to watch your niece play soccer. Not listen to your fuck buddy trauma dump about his divorce.
“We try,” he settles on instead. “It’s still a work in progress, but we’re figuring it out.” Then, so you don’t feel pressured to respond in any particular way, he glances down at the lawn chair that he brought, still folded and tucked between his arm and side. “You uh - you want to sit? I brought a chair.”
He unfolds the chair, not giving you the opportunity to object as he takes a seat on the still slightly dewy grass right next to the chair.
The rest of the game continues with the two of you sitting side by side, watching the girls in an unfamiliar but not uncomfortable kind of companionship. He cheers for Holly, and you cheer for his daughter just as much.
You even introduce herself to her when Penny runs over to where Frank sits for a sip of water. As his coworker, of course. Because that’s what you are, even if the relationship title rubs him the wrong way for reasons he won’t let him think about for long enough to have to be honest with himself.
Still. It’s nice. Much different than how time with you is normally spent - working together to save someone from a pulmonary embolism, or naked between bedsheets - but this doesn’t feel wrong. It’s unexpected but pleasant, Frank thinks.
He tries not to think about how you feel about it, instead focusing on Penny chasing and kicking the soccer ball (sometimes in the wrong direction, but she’s four, so it’s cute).
When the final whistle blows, the swarm of four and five year olds erupts into excited shrieks. Penny and Holly spot the two of you at the same time and sprint over - Penny with her white tube socks stained green with grass and Holly with hair falling out of her pigtails.
Holly reaches you first, practically launching herself into your lap. “We won! We won! Did you see how far the ball went when I kicked it?”
“Of course I did,” you answer cheerfully. “You were amazing. I’m so proud of you. You did so great too, Penny.”
Before he has a chance to recover from the way the softness in your voice made his chest tighten, Penny starts jumping up and down, chanting daddy, daddy, daddy.
“Daddy, can Holly go with us to get ice cream?”
Oh. That’s right. He had promised his daughter ice cream after the game.
“Uh—” Frank hesitates, just for a second, glancing over at you. With your sunglasses now resting on the top of your head, he can see your wide, slightly panicked eyes. “We…we don’t know if Holly and her aunt already have plans, sweetie,” he says gently, not wanting to disappoint her but also giving you the out that he’s almost certain you’ll take.
But Holly is already looking up at you with pleading eyes. “Please, please, please can we go get ice cream?”
You let out a small laugh, eyes darting between Holly and Frank. He offers a small smile of his own, shrugging as if to say the ball’s in your court.
“Why not?” You sigh. “Sure. Ice cream sounds good to me.”
Frank might not show it in the same way that the girls do - with wild cheers and shrieks of laughter - but he’s just as pleased that you said yes.
⋆✴︎˚｡⋆
More and more often, you find yourself wishing that you met Frank Langdon when you were younger.
Not because you wish you met him before he got married or before he had children or before he fell into addiction. None of that deters you, actually.
Maybe it should. It probably should. But it doesn’t.
No, you wish you met him when you were still an optimist. When you still welcomed love with open arms and wore your heart on your sleeve and believed that everyone you met had as good of intentions as you do.
You wish you met him before your past tainted the mere idea of relationships and romance and trust.
You know it’s irrational. Things are the way that they are for a reason. If you had met him in med school, you probably would’ve thought he’s such a douche that you never would have even entertained the idea of kissing him.
But sometimes you still can’t help but wonder…
If you had met him at a different time, would there be more days like today? Early morning sunshine and soccer games and ice cream instead of late night booty calls that turn into mornings where you still wake up all alone, breathing in the scent he leaves behind on your pillow?
It’s fun to imagine that things could be different.
Then you remember the hurt and the heartbreak that comes with loving, and you shut those thoughts down. Back to sporadic, unplanned hook-ups and the illusion of control that they give you.
You suppose you can still allow yourself to sniff the scent of him that lingers after he leaves your bed, though.
⋆✴︎˚｡⋆
There’s a gradual shift in your and Frank’s dynamic over the weeks following Holly and Penny’s soccer game and the subsequent ice cream date that somehow ended in you and Frank sharing a chocolate soft serve.
It’s so subtle that at first, the changes don’t register as out of the ordinary.
You’re a little more reluctant to put your clothes back on and leave his place after sex. You stop ignoring each other at work, even exchanging jokes at the nurse’s station. He compliments you openly when you do something impressive with a case, not caring who might overhear the praise. When it’s his day off, you’ll randomly text him to tell him about something crazy that he missed at work. He starts opening up more - about his recovery, about his divorce, about his children. Not all at once. Just little pieces of his life bit by bit that you weren’t privy to before.
And you open up to him, too. Without realizing it. Without even meaning to.
It slips out by accident. You can’t even recall exactly what you’d been talking about at the time, but you tell him that he’s the first person you’ve slept with since your ex.
Your ex that you broke up with nearly two years ago.
He’d looked surprised when you revealed that. But he didn’t laugh, or say anything to tease you. He just turned to lie on his side, propped his head in his hand, looked down at you lying beside him, and asked you the same question that you’ve asked yourself on more than one question but have never answered.
“Why me, then? If you waited that long to…be with someone again. What made you kiss me in the parking garage that night?”
You stare up at him for a moment before answering, your fingers teasing his chest hair. “I’m not really sure,” you answer honestly. “Maybe I thought you were having as shitty of a day as I was, and that you looked like you needed someone as badly as I did. Maybe I thought it would be a good thing for both of us.” You pause. “Or maybe I just thought you looked like you’d be good in bed.”
He exhales a shaky laugh. One hand rests on your hip, fingers drawing lazy circles across your skin. It’s too dark to tell with only the moonlight from your open curtains illuminating the room, but if you had to guess, you would say that he’s blushing. It takes practically nothing to make him blush, a fact that you often take full advantage of because you think he looks pretty when he blushes.
“And were you right?”
“About which part?” You murmur, your hand stilling against his chest.
He gives a half shrug, hesitating just long enough for you to know exactly what he’s asking without him saying it. “The part about me being good in bed,” he says instead, with no trace of his normal humor in his voice.
“Frank.” You cup his face in your hand, swallowing down the answer to the question he won’t ask. “You know you are.”
It wasn’t a lie. He’s more than good. He’s the best you’ve ever had, and that’s exactly why you’re blind to the most damning way the lines begin to blur.
What started as stress relief, as a coping mechanism for a shit day, turned into something that started to feel less like an escape from reality and more like something that feels terrifyingly like love.
Just coworkers with benefits turned friends with benefits don’t stare into each other’s eyes during sex like they’re trying to see into each other’s souls. They don’t touch you, hold you, and kiss you like you’re their lifeline. Like you’re the air they need to breathe.
They definitely don’t call you baby when they’re telling you to come for them.
But then Frank goes and does just that.
⋆✴︎˚｡⋆
Frank’s hips slam into yours, repeatedly hitting that sweet spot deep inside you that makes you croon his name against the sweat-slicked skin of his throat.
You weren’t supposed to come over tonight. He had come to your place last night, and the two of you have never hooked up two nights in a row before.
You’ve also never hooked up when his children are sleeping in their bedrooms just down the hallway.
But he called you, right as you were leaving the hospital, and told you that he wants to see you. That he misses you. He even said please in a low, sleepy voice that made heat bloom down your spine.
And you pictured him - skin flushed and dewy from his shower and dark gray sweats hanging low on his hips - and then next thing you knew, you were driving the route to his apartment that has become as familiar as the route to your own.
He noticed you were tired as soon as you walked in. Laid you down in his bed, undressed you, and kissed down your body until stopping between your thighs, where he spent even more time than he usually does - so much time, in fact, that your legs were shaking around his head when you pulled him up to you by the tops of his arms and all but begged him to fuck you.
And he did. Is.
Sounds of flesh on flesh and his bed frame creaking fill the room as your nails scrape down the skin of his back and his teeth dig into the meat of your shoulder, the familiar fiery coil in your core dangerously close to snapping again.
“Frank,” you breathe, voice unrecognizable. “Fuck, I’m close. I need - I’m gonna—”
He gently shushes your incoherent babbling, slanting his lips over yours with a sloppy, open mouth kiss that makes you cry into his mouth.
“I know,” he grunts low and breathless when he pulls away. Skilled, slender fingers find the swollen bundle between your folds, coaxing you to climax. “I can feel it. Squeezing me so fuckin’ tight. You’re so close, just let go for me, baby.”
The foreign pet name falls from his lips so effortlessly that it sends you over the edge - warms you from head to toe, white-hot pleasure coursing through you as he fucks you through your orgasm and his own.
Baby, baby, baby.
You barely register the fact that he pulls out and collapses beside you on his mattress, his thigh brushing against yours.
Every nerve in your body vibrates with the typical post-coital blend of oxytocin and serotonin but the bliss is background noise to the word he’d murmured so pretty against your skin.
It flashes in your mind like a neon sign. Baby.
Suddenly, everything leading up to this moment begins to play like a highlight reel.
The touches that linger for a split-second too long, the random texts throughout the day, the just because kisses that don’t necessarily lead to sex, your favorite vending machine snack randomly appearing on your desk at work when you’re having a hard day, how you know his go-to take-out order by heart, baby, baby, baby—
You bolt upright, cutting Frank off in the middle of a sentence that you hadn’t registered a single syllable of. You throw your legs over the side of the bed, reaching down to pick your underwear and scrubs up off the floor.
“Uh—” He lets out a soft, confused laugh. “You okay?”
You pull your shirt over your head, unable to bring yourself to look at him. “Yeah,” you say, your voice unnaturally high. “It’s just late. I’ve got work in the morning, so I should get going.”
“O…kay,” he draws the word out, obviously unconvinced. “You sure that’s all it is?”
You jump up, yanking your pants into place. “Yep. Just tired.”
He’s silent for a moment, as if trying to gauge the sudden shift in your demeanor. Then, he clears his throat. “I mean, if you’re tired, you can sleep here. Probably shouldn’t drive—”
“What the hell are we doing, Frank?”
He pushes himself up on one elbow, eyebrows knitting together. “What are we doing?” He repeats. “Same thing we’ve been doing for the last few months, I thought.”
You’re shaking your head before he can finish the sentence.
“It’s not the same. It’s not the same and you know it.”
He sits up straighter, blue eyes boring into you like he’s trying to read your mind. It feels like an eternity before he speaks again, and when he does, his voice is low and restrained. “Where is this coming from?”
You make a vague, exasperated gesture with your hands. “It’s coming from…all of it. You call two nights in a row and I come running. People at work are starting to talk because we barely even try to hide it. Your kids are sleeping right down the hall and you’re offering to let me spend the night—”
“Okay, okay,” he interrupts gently. He exhales slowly, dragging a hand through his hair. “Okay. You’re right,” he admits. “Things aren’t exactly the same. Haven’t been for a while now.” He pauses, the intensity of his stare keeping you glued to the spot where you stand next to his bed. “I just don’t see why that’s a bad thing.”
Your chest constricts at the way he doesn’t try to argue. Doesn’t get defensive, just wants to understand.
“Because it was never supposed to be…this.” Your gaze drops to the floor. “It was supposed to be casual. No strings attached. No feelings. But now?” You look back up to find him still staring at you, jaw clenched. You mentally will your voice to stay level, but emotion still slips through. “Cuddling all night then having breakfast with your children in the morning? Calling me baby like I’m yours? That’s not casual, Frank. That’s—”
He cuts you off with an incredulous laugh. “That’s what this is about?” He pushes the covers off of him, grabbing his underwear as he jumps out of bed to yank them on. “Me calling you baby?”
You’re silent as he walks over to you, stopping when his still bare chest is just inches from yours. He looks at you, unblinking, as he waits for you to answer.
You stare up at him, offering a small shrug. “Tell me it didn’t mean anything. Tell me it just slipped out and meant nothing and I’ll let this go.”
He lets out a breathy, humorless laugh and shakes his head. “I’m not going to lie so you can stay in your comfort zone,” he says, voice dangerously low. “It wasn’t just a slip. I called you baby because that’s what you are to me. I’m sorry if that’s not what you want to hear, but at least be honest with yourself about why it upsets you.”
His words hit you square in the chest, knocking the air from your lungs and causing you to take a small, involuntary step back. “And why exactly do you think it upsets me?”
He leans in slightly, his eyes darkening. “Let me ask you this. Are you really that pissed off that I called you baby? Or are you upset that me calling you baby made you come harder than I’ve ever felt you come?”
You laugh at that. Cackle, really. Louder than you probably should at this hour when his children are sleeping with only walls in between you.
“Wow,” you exhale. “Okay.” You nod. “You’re a dick, and I am leaving.”
You don’t wait for a response before you’re grabbing your tennis shoes and bag off of his floor, not even bothering to put the shoes on your feet before storming out of the bedroom and making a beeline for the front door.
You’re aware of footsteps trailing after you, of Frank calling your name in a desperate whisper-shout, but you don’t stop. You aren’t thinking, you aren’t processing what just transpired, you just want to go back to your place, scream into a pillow, and hope that when you wake up in the morning, your heart is no longer doing gymnastics in your fucking ribcage.
“Please,” he breathes, his hand blanketing yours over the doorknob when you go to turn it. “Hear me out for just a second, okay?”
You don’t look up. His palm feels like wildfire against your skin and your brain is screaming at you to yank your hand away but you’re frozen in place.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that,” he starts, voice a notch above a whisper. “If you want to leave, you can leave. But I can’t let you walk out of here thinking that this is still just sex to me. It was at first. I don’t know exactly when that changed for me, but it did. And I think it did for you, too.”
You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. All of the words that you know you should probably say pile up in your throat.
I can’t be what you want me to be. I don’t know how.
I’m scared of hurting you. I’m scared of getting hurt.
It’s easier for me to shut down than to admit how I really feel.
I don’t remember how to let someone in. I wish I could.
For you, I wish I could.
You swallow them all down.
But you don’t tell him he’s wrong, either.
“I’ll see you at work, Frank.”
⋆✴︎˚｡⋆
Though the cravings have yet to subside, Frank is now a month sober from the exact thing his therapist had warned him about in the earliest days of his recovery.
Unlike when he got clean from benzos, this specific brand of newfound sobriety isn’t his choice. It’s yours.
He would never choose this for himself.
But still, he has surprised himself. Hasn’t reached out, no matter how much he has wanted to. Hasn’t texted you, no matter how many drafts he’s typed and deleted. Hasn’t called, even though it has killed him inside to watch your name get lower and lower in his call history. He’s given you space at work and has only talked to you when it pertains directly to a case.
He’s hated every fucking second of it, but he can officially say that he is thirty days clean. If the past thirty days have taught him anything, though, it’s this: he’d happily fall back into old habits, if only you’d give him the chance.
Because it isn’t the sex that he misses most. The sex doesn’t even crack the top ten things he thinks about when he’s trying to fall asleep at night.
It’s the way you’d occasionally forget a hair clip or chapstick on his bedside table and he’d find little pieces of you when you weren’t around and smile. It’s the way he’d get a text from you when he least expected it. It’s the way you’d ask about his children, and make a point to celebrate his recovery milestones even when he didn’t.
And now he’s here, thirty days without you, and one thing has become abundantly clear to him: he didn’t fall back into addiction, he fell in love.
⋆✴︎˚｡⋆
The news comes on a random Tuesday.
Temple University Hospital. Philadelphia. An internal medicine based fellowship you had impulsively applied for the night after you slept with Frank for the last time.
You had already made peace with the fact you weren’t going to get it. Didn’t think you even stood a chance, really, and you were okay with that. You had already been offered a pediatrics fellowship here in Pittsburgh, anyway.
Then the email appears in your inbox on a random Tuesday morning while you’re at work.
Suddenly, you have what most doctors approaching the end of their residencies don’t have: options.
And because you can’t talk to the one person you most (selfishly) want to talk to about it all, you talk to Cassie, instead.
“Wait. Temple?” She exclaims. “As in Philadelphia? I didn’t even know you had applied! What happened to pediatrics here in Pittsburgh?”
You sigh, taking a seat on the concrete curb in the ambulance bay. “It was really last minute. I didn’t say anything because I really didn’t think I’d get it. And as for the peds fellowship…” You shrug. “I don’t know what I’ll do now.”
“Oh my god,” she laughs, sitting down beside you. “That’s amazing. Do you know how hard it is to get into that program? They’re crazy selective.”
You force a smile. “I know.”
Cassie’s smile falters into concern. “Why does it seem like you aren’t thrilled about this?”
“I am,” you answer way too quickly, hugging your knees. “I’m just…surprised, that’s all. It’s big news.”
She stares at you as if you’re a patient who’s lying to her about how much pain they’re in. “You sure that’s all?”
Before you can bullshit a response, the automatic doors to the hospital slide open, and the very reason that you find it impossible to jump for joy right now steps outside.
He’s saying something to an EMS worker, completely oblivious to you watching him from across the bay, but the mere sight of him makes your heartbeat stutter and palms go clammy.
“I’m sure,” you force out, your eyes still glued to Frank. “It’s just…”
“Just…?” Cassie prompts, then follows your gaze. A few seconds of heavy silence pass between you before the pieces click into place. “Oh.”
You nod slowly, your throat tightening. “Yeah. Oh.”
She clicks her tongue. “So that’s why you submitted a last minute application for a fellowship in Philly.”
You can’t deny it. Not when you know she’s right. Not when you’re staring right at him with every feeling you’ve been trying to bury since the very first time you kissed him bubbling to the surface.
“I really fucked things up, Cass.”
You finally look away from him, your eyes burning with the threat of all of the unshed tears that you’ve refused to let spill for the last month.
“Between you and Langdon?” She asks gently.
You let out a shaky breath. “Yeah. I completely shut down the second things started to get real. He told me how he felt and I couldn’t bring myself to tell him that I feel the same. I just ran like I always do and…”
“And now you’re thinking about running to Philadelphia.”
Again, you can’t even deny it. Not in any way that would be halfway convincing.
“Temple would be a great opportunity,” you mumble instead, looking down at your shoe.
Cassie purses her lips. “It would be,” she agrees. “But moving five hours away isn’t going to magically erase your feelings. You have great opportunities here, too. And I don’t just mean peds.”
She nods in Frank’s direction. You glance back over to where he still stands chatting with the EMS worker. At the same moment, he looks up and his blue eyes meet yours.
You exhale, hoping that he doesn’t have a hidden talent for reading lips. “I don’t know if he even wants to talk to me at this point.”
She snorts. “Please. If the way he’s been moping around like a dejected puppy for the last month means anything, then you have nothing to worry about.” She pauses. “Look, if you really want to go to Philly, then I’ll help you pack. But if you’re gonna go, go for the right reasons. Not because facing your feelings scares you more than the thought of moving three hundred miles away.”
You hate that she’s right. But not as much as you hate the fact that you know she’s right, and still might take the easy way out, anyway.
⋆✴︎˚｡⋆
What hurts Frank more than anything is that he doesn’t hear the news directly from you.
He isn’t supposed to hear it at all, actually. He only finds out because he happens to be standing a few feet away at the nurse’s station, and Victoria’s voice carries.
“I heard about your fellowship offer from Temple,” Victoria practically sings. “That’s amazing. I’m so happy for you. Internal medicine, right?”
Frank doesn’t even look up from his tablet at first. He isn’t sure who Victoria is talking to, but he has no reason to believe it’s you. You didn’t apply to any fellowships in internal medicine. You’ve always been interested in going into emergency pediatrics—
“Oh—” Your nervous laugh causes Frank’s eyes to shoot up. Your back is to him, so he can’t see your facial expression. “Yeah, thanks,” you tell Victoria, your voice an octave higher than it typically is.
He doesn’t register the rest of the conversation because of a shrill ringing in his ears that makes him bolt to the restroom.
It’s been one month since his last legitimate conversation with you, and now you’re moving to Philadelphia? For a fellowship in internal medicine, which you’ve never expressed interest in during all the years you’ve worked together or months you slept together?
And you didn’t even tell him yourself. He heard it from Victoria talking so loudly that patients in fucking triage probably heard the news.
Not that you owe him anything. Of course you don’t have to run your life decisions by him. He was just blindsided is all.
Blindsided, and more devastated than he probably has any right to be.
He wishes he could be as happy for you as Victoria is. But no matter how much Frank works on himself, no matter how much time he spends in therapy or how many self-help books he reads, he’s always been a selfish man when he’s in love.
But you aren’t his to be selfish over. He knows this. He’s painfully aware of it every time he sees you at work and every time he feels your absence when he’s alone at night.
So when he sees you walking to your car in the parking garage after work that night, he tries to do the right thing even though it feels wrong.
“So, Philly?”
You come to a halt beside your car, slowly turning around to face him. You purse your lips in the way that Frank knows that you normally do when you’re nervous, adjusting your bag over your shoulder.
“You heard about that, huh?”
Frank stops a couple feet away from you, one hand on the strap of his backpack and one crammed in his pants pocket. “Yeah, Javadi doesn’t exactly whisper.”
“Ah,” you breathe. Then, with a small laugh, “No, I suppose she doesn’t.”
An awkward beat of silence passes between you as it dawns on Frank that this is damn near exactly where he stood months ago when you first kissed him. The realization makes his gaze flash to your lips.
God, what the hell is he doing?
He clears his throat and starts to take a step back. “Well, I just wanted to say congratulations. Temple will be really lucky to have you—”
“I haven’t decided anything yet,” you interject quickly, the words nearly running together. “I just found out yesterday so I…I don’t really know what I’m going to do yet.”
Frank hopes that his face doesn’t show the sudden relief he feels to hear of your indecision.
“But I’m sorry you found out that way,” you add in a smaller voice, not meeting his eye. “I was going to tell you, once I made a decision.”
“Don’t be sorry,” he says softly. “You don’t owe me anything. I just want you to be happy. Even if it’s not here.” He pauses and adds the words that taste like bile when they leave his mouth. “Even if it’s not with me.”
But goddamn, do I wish it was, he thinks.
A storm of different emotions flicker across your face in the span of about two seconds. For one of them, Frank thinks you might step toward him.
But it’s just wishful thinking, or maybe the shitty parking garage lighting.
“Thank you, Frank.”
Anything else he could possibly say would be solely for his own benefit, so he nods.
And he doesn’t want to risk ruining the moment, knowing there’s a chance that he may not have many more with you.
⋆✴︎˚｡⋆
The words on the screens in front of you bleed together.
The email you received yesterday morning from Temple University Hospital is open on your laptop screen. The iPad in your hands displays UPMC Children’s Hospital of Pittsburgh’s website.
You’ve scanned and scrolled as if the answer you’re searching for will appear in bold letters across one of the screens, but since you got home from work a few hours ago, the only decision you’ve succeeded in making is chamomile over peppermint tea.
You thought taking a hot shower might help you clear your mind. All that resulted in was remembering all of the times that you ended up at Frank’s or he ended up at yours after work and you’d shower together, washing off the long day with your hands and lips on each other the entire time.
After cutting your shower short, you figured eating something other than a protein bar would help you gain at least a little mental clarity - but then you opened your fridge to see leftover takeout from the Italian place down the road that you know Frank likes, and completely lost your appetite.
The following hours weren’t much different.
Put on body lotion - remembered how much Frank loved the smell of it. Turned on music - the first fucking song that played on shuffle was by an artist that Frank introduced you to. Searched through a pile of laundry for a cardigan - found a t-shirt Frank accidentally left at your place over a month ago that you can’t bring yourself to give back to him.
He’s still everywhere. It’s been a month and he’s still occupying spaces that he hasn’t been in weeks. In your apartment and in your brain and in your heart.
And to top it all off, the words that he had said to you in the parking garage tonight won’t stop replaying in your head.
I just want you to be happy. Even if it’s not here. Even if it’s not with me.
But what if it is? What if it is here? What if it is with him?
You sigh, rubbing your eyes, but it does little to improve the quality of the words on the screens in front of you. Maybe, if you put on your reading glasses, everything will become clear to—
Your hand freezes on a piece of paper in your bedside table drawer as you’re searching for your glasses.
A bright blue, wrinkled sticky note. You don’t even have to flip it over to remember what it says but you do, anyway.
Stop overthinking. You made the right call. You always do.
Also, stop scowling.
Frank’s handwriting. He’d scribbled the words, crumpled the paper up, and flicked it at you across your desks while charting after a particularly brutal trauma that he knew you were beating yourself up over.
It had been the first thing to make you smile that whole day. It was a reminder that you desperately needed at that moment. And it was from Frank. Of course you kept it.
And now here it is. At the exact moment you so desperately need that reminder once again.
Stop overthinking.
So that’s exactly what you do. You stop overthinking, and do what you should have done a long time ago.
He’s probably already asleep, but you put on your shoes.
There’s a voice in the back of your mind telling you that you’re probably too late, but you grab your car keys and make the short drive to his place.
And there’s a tight ball of anxiety in the pit of your stomach that begs you to turn around, but you raise your hand and knock on his front door.
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Frank is convinced that he must be dreaming.
He didn’t actually hear a knock and open his front door to you standing outside at midnight.
There’s no way this isn’t his subconscious playing some cruel joke on him. It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve appeared in his dreams, but it is by far the most realistic he’s had. He can feel the chill of the night wind as it blows the familiar scent of your body lotion in his direction and it is all so, so lifelike.
It doesn’t register that he is very much awake and you are very much here until you speak.
“Shit.”
It’s the first word out of your mouth.
“I’m sorry,” you huff. “Are the kids here right now? I hope I didn’t wake them up. I didn’t really think this through. I just got in my car and drove here before I could chicken out because I’m tired of chickening out and—”
“Hey, hey,” he soothes, stepping over the threshold of his doorway. He almost reaches out and touches you, but stops himself at the last second.
You’re here. You’re actually fucking here right now. It’s the middle of the night and you’re in your pajamas and slippers and he has no idea what you’re talking about, but you’re here.
“What’s going on?” He asks gently, unable to keep obvious concern from his tone. “It’s…after midnight. Is everything okay?”
You nod. “Everything is fine. I’m sorry to freak you out. I just…I told you that I was going to tell you whenever I came to a decision.”
Frank stares at you, his mouth slightly agape. You did say that…approximately five hours ago.
The shock and the hope he had initially felt upon realizing that you’re standing on his front porch is quickly replaced with dread at what you might say next.
He swallows, his voice rough. “So…you made a decision, then? About Philadelphia?”
Another nod, followed by a smile that he can’t quite read. “Philly sounds great. I mean…the Eagles, the Liberty Bell…cheesesteaks.” Your shoulders lift in a small shrug. “And the internal medicine program at Temple would be a really great opportunity.”
Frank drops your gaze, bracing for what surely comes next.
“But Philadelphia does not have the guy that I love.”
His eyes shoot back up. You’re staring at him, eyes wide and closer to tears than he thinks he’s ever seen from you. Before he can speak, you take a step closer and he forgets how to breathe.
“It doesn’t have you.”
Frank knows it defies all science and logic, but he swears the entire city freezes around you two right then and there.
“I’m sorry,” you blurt before his brain has a chance to catch up. “Frank, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have walked out on you like I did. I shouldn’t have shut you out, I shouldn’t have taken this long to get my head out of my ass—”
“Hey—” he tries gently, but you’re on a roll now.
“—and I should have told you that you were right. It wasn’t just sex to me, either. I don’t think it ever really was. And I get it if I’m too late. I get it if you can’t give me another chance. But I’m not going anywhere, I’m done running away from what I feel, and if I have to prove every day that I love—”
That’s it. He won’t listen to another word.
Not that he doesn’t love the sound of them coming from your lips because goddamn, he does. Every word, every apology, every promise you’re willing to give, Frank will take.
But he can’t just stand here and watch the way your hands are starting to shake and listen to your voice begin to tremble when every part of him that has missed you for the last month screams at him to pull you close, so that’s exactly what he does.
It only takes a fraction of a second for you to process that his lips are moving against yours.
Your hands fly to his hair, his own dropping from your face to your waist to pull you flush against him. You gasp into his mouth, a pretty noise that Frank is happy to swallow down. It takes no time at all for the kiss to turn fervent, a clash of tongue and teeth that makes him grateful that it’s the dead of night and all of his neighbors are asleep.
“—you,” you finish when you reluctantly break apart, your breath warm against his lips. “I love you.”
The three words are everything he’s been waiting to hear since the first night you kissed him. He just didn’t know it at the time.
“I love you, too, baby,” he murmurs low. A smirk forms on his kiss-swollen lips. “It is okay that I call you that now, right?”
You let out a sound that is half laugh, half sob at the words. You grab his face in your hands and pull him down again for one more kiss, this one shorter but just as sweet.
“Please,” you sigh, smiling up at him. “Because you weren’t wrong about the effect it has on me.”
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thank you so much for reading. if you comment/reblog i love you forever n ever 💗💗💗
੭꣒ ˖ ❛ bf!langdon who takes the phrase “kiss and makeup” a little too seriously.
c.ws :: mdni , smut , slight degradation , missionary so you can continue arguing , dirty talk.
"stop being so fucking mad at me." frank grumbles out from above, driving the point home by grinding his cock in deeper inside you. your thighs quiver despite yourself where they're hooked around his waist, lewd slapping noises permeating the room just to tease you. “i said sorry an hour ago.”
you keep turning your face, trying to angle it out of reach, or at least force the fury back into your expression. you can’t fight the scrunch of pleasure that crosses your face, however. he can see that too. the grudge held like a stone dam, meant to keep your pride immune and well guarded from the way he's fucking you into the mattress. but it never works.
"m’not-"
"you are." he nips at your shoulder, voice muffled. "you keep clenching up when i talk.” his hips rear back steadily, a wet squelch sounding from where you're joined, then he sinks back in with a grunt of effort. "except down here."
the truth stings worse than the fight itself: frank knows you like the back of his hand. the front and back. he knows exactly how to fuck you until your resentment feels misplaced and petty.
hands that had been pushing against his chest find the silky sheets instead, clutching tight.
"it was a stupid fight," he pushes in again, slowly, allowing you to relish in the thick ridge and veins dragging along your walls while he explains the situation to you.
"and you know it." pride makes you not answer, of course, the only thing you can manage is a soft whine.
"sweetheart," he sighs. "you really gonna let me cum in this pussy while you're busy pretendin' to hate me?" you blink up at him in silent retort. defiance radiating from every inch of your face.
"mmm." the man even has the audacity to pinch the bridge of his nose, like you're the one being unreasonable. like he’s not currently balls deep. "always so fucking stubborn." he reaches between your bodies, thumbing lazily at your clit. "you think i like walking out?"
rage bubbles back up your throat at once, rolling your eyes with the little attitude you had remaining. "you slammed the door — our door — and left."
"you knew damn well i'd come back…” he grunts, not missing a beat to retort. an especially brutal thrust has you seeing stars. "you’re a smart girl, stop acting stupid, yeah?" you try to hitch your hips, to hurry him along but he only holds you down, eyes narrowing.
"go ahead and scream all you want, curse me out, break something if you need to. but don't fall asleep hating me.” he rambles on, shaking his head faintly. “can’t take that shit."
your words come out sharp, bitter once you find your voice. "so what’s your plan, fuck me into forgiveness?”
there's no hesitation in him when a toothy grin splits across his face, "there you go. if we fight in the morning? before work? fine. but if we're sharing a bed like this, we fix it before we close our eyes. understood?" no thought forms twice before your head's nodding stupidly, not an ounce of resistance (or dignity) left in you as he sinks back in.
The Men of the Pitt and their Love Languages (giving and receiving)
CW: 100% fluff, some talks about Frank's divorce & struggles with substance abuse/chronic pain, OOC characterisation maybe? prolly?, not proof read
WC: 3k
REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!!
Michael “Robby” Robinavich
Giving: Physical touch (yes I chose the whittaker gif. sue me)
Michael was always finding some reason to touch you, even before you got together. When you were charting in the ED, far past the end of your shift trying to catch up. Robby saw how tense your shoulders were, he’d made many comments on how horrific your posture was. His palms came down on your shoulders, pulling you out of the rabbit hole of your computer screen.
“You know sitting like that is bad for you- you shouldn’t have your face that close to the screen.” His hands massaged your upper back, forcing you to straighten out.
Then it moved onto bumping into and passing by you in the ED, it seemed to happen with you more than anybody else, he’d always mummer out an apology, setting you on your way with a hand on your lower back.
Once you started dating? Outside work his hands were always on your waist, standing behind you, even placing his chin on top of your head if he’s able. It’s not like you were always hanging off each other, you were still extremely independent but the second you were together he was holding you in some way shape or form.
Jack always teases him about it, anytime you all go out for drinks, Robby always has a hand on your thigh or on the back of your neck, sometimes with his fingers placed over your pulse. But Robby just loves the feeling of your warm body under his fingertips.
Even at home, on the couch you were always perched between his legs, head rested back on his shoulder trying not to fall asleep watching one of his favourite movies, his hands would be around your waist, rubbing small circles on a sliver of skin that had exposed itself, shirt ridden up just slightly. His lips pressed against your temple once you actually fall asleep, too lazy to move, instead falling asleep himself despite knowing how sore his back was gonna be in the warning.
Receiving: Quality Time
You were both so busy all of the time, so Robby often told himself he would just have to take what he could get in terms of dates and time together, but in the way that Robby was always on you while you were together you revelled in being by his side.
You spent every break together, that meant you tearing him away from work just to spend time with him, often up on the roof where the chaos of the ED couldn’t really get to him, just the two of you laughing about something random talking about everything and nothing at all.
He tried to pretend that it annoyed him, that it was a disruption in his day but the one day that you’re too busy to pull him out he’s lurking around, casting a shadow over the bay. Dana caught on of course, watching with an amused smile as he picked at the sandwich you’d packed for him earlier that day as if it were some sort of crime to eat his food without you.
As for dates, unfortunately they tended to be few and far between, you were both far too busy but when a gala came around that was your favourite time. Not to spend with other people…no of course not. It was the two of you, in fancy dress acting like absolute assholes, people watching, letting the alcohol flow, kissing like teenagers in the hallway when one of you is supposed to be in there getting ready to make a speech.
“I love you” your hands toyed with his tie pulling him down into another kiss as he smiled like a kid in a candy store. His hands pawed and gripped at you in that outfit.
“I love you too..” his hands cupped your face squishing your cheeks together as he pressed his lips to your forehead.
Most of your quality time was spent at home, and it wasn’t even all talking to each other, it was the two of you getting up to your hobbies on opposite sides of the room, his nose buried in a book while you wrote or drew or played videogames. The latter was his favourite, he would deny ever being that interested but would be so fixated on the TV every time a cutscene came about. His nose scooched down his nose as he stared at your concentrated face with a sparkle in his eyes.
Jack Abbott
Giving: Gift giving
Cliche yes, but Jack abbott had more money than he really knew what to do with, however despite popular belief it wasn’t all going to things like lingerie or fancy dinners. Of course some of it went to those things but it was when you and Jack had been together for about six months when you got the email, at work in fact.
“JACK ABBOT!” you screamed out pushing back from your desk to track him down. Robby looked over at him, a fat grin on his face. “You’re in troubbblleeeeeee-”
Jack just smiled, a look telling Robby that he was exactly where he wanted to be, you stormed over poking your finger into his chest, saying how irresponsible he was, getting all red in the face, the smoke radiating off you as Jack looked down at you, hands by his side to stop him from shutting you up then and there.
You finally walked off in a huff, Robby stood there eyes wide, a huff escaping his lips “what the fuck did you do?”
“Payed of her med school debt.”
“Jesus brother” Robby scoffed “you are in trouble.”
Then it kept going, you were struggling for money, you had to send some back home, got a fuck ass ticket that was more than your rent. You were ready to pack your shit and live in a cardboard box when your landlord texted saying the payment had gone through for the next 4 months, until the end of your lease.
You’d learned by now not to argue, Jack wasn’t expecting a thank you, he didn’t need one all he needed was a little kiss on the lips and to see the smile on your face in place of the crease between your eyebrows you’d get when you’re staring at bills.
He did still love buying you something expensive every once in a while, his apartment was nice but only had what he really needed. It was mostly vacations that he loved the most, taking you somewhere warm and buying you fancy dinners. It all felt like a dream when you’d get back to work, skin tanned and mind stress free.
That's what it was about for Jack, getting rid of what he deemed to be unnecessary stress. If he could fix it with a bank transfer of course he would. He always kissed your forehead trying to reassure you that it barely put a dent in the bank for him, nose burying in the crook of your neck with a deep inhale, that new scent was just perfect.
Receiving: Acts of service
Jack was somewhat of a traditional man, not to say he wanted you to stay at home or have kids or anything, more that he remembered watching his parents when he was young, how his mother always had food waiting for them after a day of school. He loved nothing more than coming home in the morning to see you, cooking him what you had coined as brinner, the mix between breakfast and dinner for the two of you.
you would smile pressing a kiss to his forehead as he sat on the couch, you’d place the plate on his lap with a smile, detaching his prosthetic and rubbing out the pain and tension there. It was in every small thing you did for him, he felt his love grow little by little. When you made him a coffee before work or the way that everything was always organised and his clothes were folded and put away, the man swore he’d not run out of socks once in the time he’s been dating you.
He figured out quickly that it wasn’t the gender roles that appealed to him, it was being taken care of. He spent 12 hours every night looking after other people, ignoring the pain in his leg, the aching of his back in favour of performing CPR on a mother of two. So stepping through the door of his apartment, he couldn’t help but be giddy at the idea of being able to lounge out on the couch while you looked after him.
It made him feel guilty of course, he felt like he was taking advantage of you or that he was being too much and a lazy partner, but in truth you loved seeing the tension release from his body when you brought a tea over to his desk when he was on a never ending video call with gloria or when you set up his yoga things on the balcony, first thing in the morning despite just opening your eyes.
Frank Langdon
Giving: Physical touch & Words of affirmation (I COULDN’T PICK OKAY?!)
Rehab had impacted Frank in ways he didn’t realise until you. Him and Abby had called it quits, not because of the addiction but mutually understanding that maybe they had just outgrown each other. The day that he arrived back in the ED was seared into his brain, no matter how much he wanted to erase it from his brain. There was one good part of that day though, afterwards you sat out in the ambulance bay, watching the fireworks popping in the sky.
You looked up to see Frank, fresh off an argument with Robby moving towards you with a soft smile. Your cheeks were dried up with tears from the way Robby had torn you apart in the middle of the emergency department, you’d finally called him out on how fucking unfair he was being to the women of the department. How you were tired of dealing with his suicide spiral and how you’ve had to cover for his ass ever since frank left.
And obviously he didn’t like that. Your knees were up close to your chest, your eyes fixed on the TDH stood in front of you (tall, dark and handsome obviously). There was no conversation needed as he opened his arms and softly spoke “C’mere”.
You smushed your face into his street clothes as he trailed his fingernails up and down your back, chin on the top of your head as you cried it out. “You did such a good job today…” his lips pressed to your temple as he tried to dampen the cries escaping you. “You did so good when I was away. I'm sorry for leaving you alone like that.”
The crying halted, you stared up at him, “christ you’re amazing…” he wiped away the tears with the back of his finger.
When you finally became an established couple everything just felt right. You were able to work in the ED again after an incredibly uncomfortable but much needed conversation with robby when he got his ass back from “sabbatical”.
And frank? He couldn't shut up about you, professionalism be damned. It was always a comment to someone about how he was amazed by you. How competent you were, someone who was most definitely not afraid to let everyone know you were together. Which leads to another awkward interaction and conversation with HR.
Receiving: Words of Affirmation
Yeah it’s a two way street. Frank didn’t have to tell you that he was terrified of letting you down in the relationship, he and Abby fell out of love far before they actually divorced and he doesn’t want that to happen to the two of you. You can tell he’s fucking scared of being left, after every argument he’d go to the toilet, you could hear the tears through the thin walls of his apartment.
You take every opportunity to tell him he’s doing a good job. At work it shows itself after the hardest of procedures, the way the world is pushing down on his shoulders, he trips and falls into rabbit holes of worry. All it takes is a small smile and a hand brushing his with a “I’m proud of you” to push a smile back onto his lips.
His personal favourites were the little notes you left in his lunch, he didn’t fucking know when you did it given the fact the two of you usually made your lunch together in the morning. But they always had something that was probably just a bit cliche but never failed to make him grin.
On the bad days, the ones where you find frank with his hands clenched around the porcelain of your bathroom sink, staring daggers into the medicine cabinet you had installed a lock on when Frank started coming over more often. You move up behind him, arms wrapped around his midriff pressing soft kisses along his shoulderblade. You peaked your face over his shoulder, seeing the pain etched into his features. “I wish you could see yourself through my eyes Frankie…” your lips grazed the shell of his ear.
It was like you’d opened the floodgates, cries spilled from his lips, rapidly turning around to stuff his face into the crook of your shoulders. “Did I do something wrong?” you stiffened for a moment, pulling him into you, your hands gently placed over his back.
“No- you- fuck i love you- i love you so much-”
Dennis Whitaker
Giving: Acts of service
When you’d off handedly mentioned to trinity that your apartment was in desperate need of some repairs but your landlord wasn’t replying to any of your texts about it you hadn’t really expected Whittaker to step out of his room in their shared apartment and say "I'll fix it if you need me to?”
Your jaw dropped a little bit, you hadn’t seen Dennis outside of work before, you and Santos had kept it relatively to work friends, that was until you got stood up and didn’t want to go straight home. Luckily the date was only bowling so you weren't completely dressed up, but Dennis was standing there in a loose pair of sweatpants and a gray T-shirt.
The next day, there Dennis was underneath your sink, fixing the leak as you tried to pretend you weren’t watching the way the sun caught his golden curls. You felt stupid following him around the apartment as he got up to miscellaneous tasks which you’d never been taught how to do at home.
You found out just how much growing up on a farm taught you about life skills. You sat up on the counter watching him stretched on a stool changing your living room light, talking about everything and nothing at all. When your stomach grumbles during a particular lull in conversation he barely even thinks about it when he starts rummaging though your kitchen, throwing together a meal you never would have thought of.
Once you finally started dating it didn’t stop. If you mentioned you’d broken a mug, it would be right there glued back together on your counter the next day. You giggled at the thought of him with those stupid glasses they use to get debris out of wounds trying to perfectly put all of the pieces back into place.
You complained about the ikea desk you were supposed to put together months ago but could never figure out? You came home to that very same desk not only put together perfectly but a matching chair and bookcase.
He was never showy about it, he didn’t need a thank you he just enjoyed doing it.
Receiving: physical touch
While growing up on a farm was perfect for building up life skills, his family had never really been the touchy type. Sometimes there was a pat on the back from his father when he broke the news that he’d gotten into medical school and a side hug from his brother when their meemaw died but showing love in that way wasn’t exactly normalised for him growing up.
That's why you came along and broke him, the first time you met, it was right after he lost his first patient. You were perched on the other side of the bay, came pottering over to him and simply asked “do you want a hug?” he stuttered over his words for what felt like an hour before nodding, you wrapped your arms around his midriff. Christ he didn’t know how long it had been he’d been hugged like this.
You could tell it had been a while because he didn’t let go for about a minute and a half. Now he didn’t know that was what you were like with pretty much the entire staff but Christ from the second that happened he was head over heels. He was so grateful that Santos had offered him the room because it gave him the opportunity to offer his handyman services.
When you settled down into the relationship, he was slightly insecure seeing how affectionate you were with the people of the ER, jealous of how effortlessly you could bring a smile back to peoples faces even on the very worst days. But he came to realise you were far more intentional with him. His head on your lap while watching a movie, your hand raking your hair, scratching his back, pulling his shirt up so it was more skin to skin contact.
Everyone got to hug you but not everyone got to love you.
Summary: When his family is involved in an accident, they are all brought down to the Pitt. And in the middle of the drama, Frank ends up delivering his baby girl.
Enjoy.
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"Where's daddy?"
Removing her arm that had been draped over her eyes, (Y/n) tiredly looked down towards Briar.
The three year old was sat on the floor in front of the sofa, legs crossed, head flopped back on the sofa so he could look up at her with those tired eyes that suggested he was ready for a nap. He had his beaker of juice clasped between his hands, though he wasn't really interested in it anymore.
"I think he's upstairs," as she spoke, (Y/n) found herself wondering what exactly Frank was doing.
He had wandered upstairs well over an hour ago to put the washing away, but he hadn't come back down yet. While (Y/n) had been drifting in and out of sleep here on the sofa, she had heard a few clatters and thumps coming from upstairs, but she didn't bother going up to see what he was doing.
She figured Frank was in one of those restless moods he often found himself in. It stemmed from work, from being rushed off his feet for over twelve hours a day. When he got his days off, he couldn't always relax or sit and watch tv for a while.
He was always pottering about the house, tidying up, playing with the boys, trying to cook- although (Y/n) always ended up taking over whenever he did that- he was always up to something to stay busy.
Another clatter shook the floorboards upstairs and both (Y/n) and Briar tilted their heads back, eyes narrowed in concentration as if they could both look through the ceiling to see what Frank was doing up there.
Now (Y/n) was intrigued.
"Let's go see what he's doing." It seemed plausible that considering (Y/n) couldn't hear Theo since he had gone upstairs after a bit, that he might be with Frank right now. They were both clearly doing something up there and (Y/n) wouldn't put it past Frank to be rearranging the furniture.
Slowly swinging her legs over the side of the sofa, (Y/n) pushed herself up and took a moment to click her neck into place and take a few deep breaths to ward off the dizziness that warped her mind.
As soon as she was up on her feet, Briar hopped up. He set his drink down on the coffee table, now forgotten, and reached his arms up towards (Y/n) instead. He pushed up on his toes, whining as he waited impatiently to be scooped up.
(Y/n) sighed but did as he wanted, leaning over to pick him up and settle him on her hip. His arms looped around her neck, cheek pressing down into her shoulder while his legs curved around her waist and settled neatly on top of her bump.
Her lips merged with his temple as she slowly walked towards the stairs, smiling to herself at the fact that both boys seemed to take after Frank in their clingyness. Not that (Y/n) was complaining, she loved how affectionate the boys were and how they watched Frank dote on (Y/n) and felt a desire to do the same.
She took it slow going upstairs, the last thing (Y/n) wanted was to trip and have Frank give her that look that told her she shouldn't have walked up the stairs carrying their toddler in the first place.
She listened to try and follow the sounds that came in odd intervals. (Y/n) was half expecting to find Frank in their bedroom, but when she got close, she realised the door was open and the room was empty. Perhaps he was in the boy's room.
Her attention shifted and her body twisted to the left when Frank's voice caught her attention this time instead of the odd scraping, banging noise.
It was coming from the nursery.
"No, that one doesn't go there buddy."
Curiosity flooded (Y/n)'s eyes and a smile was already tracing across her lips before she even knew what Frank was up to.
She nudged the door open with her foot and took one step over the threshold, slouching herself to the left until she was propped up against the door frame. The smile on her lips widened when she took in the sight in front of her.
Theo was indeed in the room as well, she had been right that he had come to try and help Frank.
The pair of them were sat on the floor, Frank cross-legged while Theo was knelt beside him, hands now resting on his thighs as he watched his dad intently. And set out before them, was a crib. Briar's crib, to be precise, the one they had taken down just after Briar's third birthday to put up his 'big boy bed' with the protective rail so he didn't fall out.
There were no instructions laid out on the floor, as Frank would have thrown them out along with the box when he first put the crib up ready for Briar's birth. But it wasn't stopping Frank, who seemed to know exactly what he was doing.
There was a plastic bag near Frank's knee holding all the bolts and screws, and he had his signature grey screwdriver box laid out in front of him.
The base of the cot was seemingly secured and screwed into the legs, it was just the rest of the frame that needed to be put together and tightly screwed in place.
"Having fun?"
Frank's head snapped up at the new voice, eyes wide and lips parted, though no sound escaped them as he stared ahead at his wife.
He had been locked in the zone, trying to get this done before (Y/n) realised. He wanted to have it sorted as a surprise so that when she wandered in the nursery to have a look or try and get things sorted, she would realise he had already done some of it for her.
It was what Frank usually did, when they hahd Theo and Briar, Frank would come home with bits and pieces in preparation and he would end up getting it all prepared weeks before the due date came around. He liked to keep busy and make himself useful.
"Hm; we're getting there aren't we?" He glanced down at the five year old perched beside him, who had wandered in and had such a bright grin when he asked if he could help.
Mostly he had been rummaging through the plastic bag to find Frank the right screws and handing him the screw driver when he needed it. But Theo felt important and helpful, and that was the main thing.
"Are you showing dad how to do it right?" (Y/n) hummed, a glint in her eye as Theo beamed and nodded, despite the playful nudge Frank gave him with his elbow.
"I know what I'm doing."
He sounded so certain and sincere, as if he truly had to prove to them all that this was something he knew how to do off his own back without the instructions. This was the third time Frank had done this, if he didn't know what he was doing by now then he truly would be useless.
When her lower back started to ache, (Y/n) slowly leant forward and set Briar down to his feet so she didn't have to hold him up any longer. He whined at the loss of contact before he turned and tried to scuttle forward towards Frank.
"No- mind the screws please." There was a warning tone to Frank's voice that made the toddler frown and pout, pausing in his step.
Frank didn't want him standing on any of the screws, nor did he really want Briar trying to help when he knew the younger boy had a tendency for taking things and trying to chew them or stuff them into his mouth. Frank could just imagine heading down to the emergency room to get Briar a scan and telling everyone his boy had swallowed a screw. That wasn't an ideal situation.
"I don't think daddy needs anymore help, baby." (Y/n) leant forward to take Briar's hand, pulling him back towards her so he didn't try and get involved.
"I could use another drink."
(Y/n) watched Frank's lips quirk up at one corner, though his head remained tilted down like he was studying the wooden beams laid out in front of his lap. He reached beside him and picked up his empty mug, lolling it from left to right until Theo quickly took the mug from him and hurriedly got to his feet.
She knew what Frank was doing. He knew the boys had a thing for trying to help make food and drink, and he knew if he asked, both of them would want to make the drink. Though it usually ended up with Theo making the drink and Briar watching dutifully and begging to carry the cup back to either parent so he could present it proudly.
A rendition of "Me, me!" left Briar's lips and his hands batted out to try and take the empty mug from Theo, who let him and ushered the toddler to go first.
"Iced coffee please, don't go near the kettle." Frank called with that sharpness to his voice so both boys would take heed of his words.
An adoring look flashed through (Y/n)'s eyes as she pushed off the doorframe once the boys had passed her, and carefully padded into the room. She made sure to be careful, not wanting any nails or screws prodding into her bare feet as she advanced towards Frank.
She knew he didn't particularly care for iced coffee, it was a bit too bitter for him when he loved a caramel latte or a plain black coffee with three sugars. But Theo had always been eager to make him a drink, and Frank got bored of drinking fruit juice or milkshakes all the time and he was too young to try and use the kettle.
So he ended up buying iced coffee sachets more than his favoured caramel ones, and they were left on the side in the kitchen so Theo could mix them with water and a dash of milk and sugar and plop a few ice cubes in. It made Theo feel like a barista and he was always so happy and proud, and of course Briar liked presenting the drinks to Frank and getting a kiss on the cheek as a thank you.
Frank grinned and beared the bitter cold taste because his boys loved making them so much.
"We shouldn't have taken this one down," Frank muttered more to himself than to (Y/n) as he stared down at the cot that felt like it was taunting him now. There seemed to be more screws than gaps and joints in the wood and he didn't like it.
If they'd of left it up for a few more months, let Briar stay in it for a bit longer before getting his proper bed sorted, they wouldn't of had to dismantle it and reassemble it like this. They had taken it down a little while before finding out (Y/n) was pregnant. Frank would have put it in the garage, stored safe and dry and ready to get back out, if they had known in advance.
Oh well. At least they'd had the good mind to keep the cot and not get rid of it. Intuition told them both that they weren't done having kids just yet.
A smile tugged at (Y/n)'s lips again as she settled her hand on Frank's shoulder, using him as a leaning post and feeling his hand reach out to press against her lower back as she eased down onto her knees next to him.
"You're the one who said let's try for a girl."
She hummed the words in his ear, chin perching on his shoulder as she peppered a few kisses to his cheek and the corner of his mouth. Her right arm wormed around the back of his neck while her other hand found his thigh and she leant against him as he grinned.
He leant into her touch, nudging his nose against hers as he turned his head and captured her lips in a kiss.
The back of his knuckles softly brushed across her stomach, tracing his thumb along the side of her bump as he hummed against her lips.
He couldn't hide the smugness from his tone when he spoke, barely parting his lips from her mouth to utter the words that she inhaled. "Yeah, and I got it right the first try."
***
"Incoming!"
"What have we got?" Robby tried to hide the tiredness from his voice as he reached to his right and grabbed a pair of gloves from the half empty box on the hook on the wall.
He'd heard Dana say they had a trauma five minutes out, but he hadn't heard the specifics when he'd been rather busy with a child who was bleeding out from a gunshot wound to the leg.
He aimed towards the ambulance bay doors that burst open with an incoming stretcher and a lot of chatter that was too hard to decipher and make out.
None of the words mattered when Robby's sights set on the gurney and he saw who was coming in.
"Oh God."
His shoulders slumped and he picked up the pace, jogging across the ER floor until he was right there beside the stretcher, reaching out to grab hold of it and help steer them in the right direction.
This was worse than he expected, but not because of the injuries the patient had sustained; because of who it was on that stretcher.
Frank's wife.
It was never good when family and relatives came in as their patients. Usually they didn't allow anyone to treat their family members, it could be compromising and cloud someone's judgement if the case went bad and they had to make hard decisions. Especially if the worst happened and they had to call a time of death, something that no one ever wanted to do.
"(Y/n), it's Doctor Robby."
He tried to force a smile to his lips, though he was rather surprised when (Y/n) took his hand with a great amount of force.
"F- Frank, where's Frank?" Fear crept into (Y/n)'s voice and wrapped around her words.
She could barely keep her eyes in focus, her head was pounding like someone was stood behind her, thrashing a hammer down against her skull. It made her head spin and her neck ache and the shuddering in her body made everything feel ten times worse.
She knew she was gripping Robby's hand to the point of imbedding her nails through his gloves and risking scratching his skin, but she couldn't stop herself. She needed to cling to something, to ground herself to someone, and right now, Robby was here.
But (Y/n) wanted Frank.
"Don't worry, we'll get him for you. What happened?" Understanding flooded Robby's tone and his eyes creased as he smiled and nodded warmly at her while they aimed towards one of the trauma rooms.
Robby tilted his head to look at the medic closest to him, a young, rather short woman who kept leaning over to make sure that (Y/n) was still alert and responsive.
"Car crash. Drunk hit the driver's side head on, her-"
"Dad!"
(Y/n) wanted to cry out, to sit forward and reach out for Theo, but she couldn't. Her throat tightened and her muscles were aching and too rigid for her to move. She kept begging for the paramedics to let Theo and Briar sit on the gurney with her, especially Briar who had been crying non stop since the accident.
She wanted to wrap her arms around her boys, tell them it was okay, make sure they were safe and stayed with her. The ER wasn't the place for them to be running around or getting lost or in the way; (Y/n) wanted them with her at all times.
But Theo was off like a bullet the moment his sights set on his dad. He weaved around Robby, instantly letting fo of Briar's hand in favour of reaching their dad instead.
If Frank had been any further away, any further down the long ER main floor, Theo wouldn't of had the nerve to run so far to reach him. But Frank was only ten feet away.
Frank's head barely tilted in the right direction before the wind was knocked out of him and his five year old was barelling into his frame. His arms deadlocked around Frank's waist, his body pushing into his legs that Frank had to steel to stop himself from tumbling backwards and crashing to the ER floor.
Shock and an increasing feeling of dread mounted up within Frank as he bent forward and looped his arms around Theo, keeping them bound together though he wasn't sure what was happening. Why was his boy here? Why was he attaching himself to Frank and not with somebody? Who had he come here with? Was Theo the one who was hurt?
"Theo? Buddy, what are you doing here?"
Bending over, Frank carefully scooped him up and settled his boy against his chest. His hand began to slowly run up and down Theo's back, trying to calm him down as he was tremoring like a leaf, but also trying to check him over for any marks, signs of abrasions or blood or wounds or anything that could indicate why he was here.
It was clear that the five year old was petrified, his eyes told as much and his lower lip was wobbling with the need to sob that he was trying his hardest to hold back. Tear tracks were stained down his features.
When Frank peered at him closer, inspecting every inch of him that he could see for any signs or indicators, his gaze focused in on Theo's chest. Moving his hand from Theo's back, he carefully pulled the collar of his top down so he could see his chest. There was a darkening mark streaked across Theo's chest from his neck, down across his sternum in a sharp horizontal line.
A wild look flooded Frank's eyes as he stared around, trying to make sense of the situation and what was happening. He didn't get chance to try and say anything or collar any colleague passing by, not when he saw his other boy now trotting towards him with the exact same fear and sobs as Theo.
Briar attached himself to Frank's left leg, clinging tightly as he smothered his face into his navy blue scrubs and began to whimper.
"Robby what's going on?" Panic surged through Frank's eyes as he tried to lock eyes with Robby.
Their eyes met for all of a second before Frank broke the contact when he realised who was on the gurney that Robby was aiming towards one of the trauma rooms. That was why the boys were here. Because (Y/n) was here. She was hurt. They were all hurt in some way. They were all petrified. They all needed his help.
"Car accident." Robby sucked in a deep breath when he saw how the boys were attaching themselves to Frank, clearly wanting comfort and reassurance. "Get Dana to watch the boys and get in trauma one with us. Mateo, Mel in here now."
As much as Robby knew that Frank would want to stay with the boys and try to comfort them and keep them calm, he also knew that the Senior would want to be with (Y/n) at the same time. The boys hadn't been badly hurt, a few bruises and mostly shock that would wear off in a while. (Y/n) was the one who needed immediate attention, and she needed Frank with her.
With his right arm securing Theo to his chest and his left hand tangling in Briar's unruly hair, Frank tried to make a beeline for Dana who had clearly heard and quickly made sense of the situation.
It was rather hard to walk with Briar attached to his leg and practically standing on his foot rather than walking along with him, but Frank somehow managed to reach Dana all the same.
He was relieved when she bent down and scooped Briar up in her arms with that motherly smile and reassuring, comforting hold that stopped him from crying out for Frank immediately.
Leaning forwards he gently set Theo down to his feet next to Dana. "Okay-"
"Daddy, don't go." Briar looked absolutely petrified, one arm locked around the back of Dana's neck as if to make sure she wouldn't suddenly drop him. But his other arm wafted out in Frank's direction, desperate to grab hold of him and never let him go.
He calmed the tiniest bit when Frank stepped closer and lovingly cupped Briar's face in both his hands. He pressed a tender, loving kiss to Briar's temple and put on his best smile that was usually reserved for nervous parents.
"I gotta go take care of mummy but I won't be long, it's okay."
The three year old didn't argue, though he didn't seem entirely satisfied by that remark. He didn't see why he and Theo couldn't go along as well and be with both parents. They wanted Frank, they wanted to stay with him where they would feel safe and know that everything was being taken care of.
Reaching into his back pocket, Frank pulled out his phone, made sure it was unlocked then held it out to Dana. "Can you call my dad, ask him to come get the boys?"
"Sure."
He didn't know how long it would take to get (Y/n) stable and whatever injuries she had, under control. Frank didn't want the boys here any longer than necessary if they were okay and had no injuries or problems that needed to be observed.
He knew his dad would come straight down here and take the boys when he knew what was happening and the boys would willingly go with their grandad if Frank told them it was oay and he would be back to get them soon. Even if he might have to tell them a few white lies.
"Be good for me, I'll come back to you when I've seen mum, okay?" With a lasting kiss to Theo's head, he gave them as comforting as smile as he could manage before jogging off across the other side of the ER.
He knew Dana would take care of them and make sure they were safe and comforted until his dad could get here to take them home. He didn't have to worry about them for the time being; (Y/n) was his main concern now.
With antibac doused on his hands and a fresh pair of gloves scraped over his hands, Frank entered trauma one and grabbed a gown. He hastily pulled it on, grateful to whoever moved behind him to knot it up loosely so it wouldn't be in the way or cause problems.
"How bad is it?" He uttered quietly over Robby's shoulder as he weaved behind him to move over to stand at (Y/n)'s side.
As soon as he was near her, (Y/n) was fumbling for his hand which she caught and held in a ferocious grip that almost made one of Frank's knuckles pop out of place. He wanted to smile when (Y/n) immediately turned her head and glued her temple against his other arm, looking like she was about to roll off the side of the bed to get closer to him.
"Someone crashed hit (Y/n)'s side of the car, Mel's dealing with the open wound on her leg. Probably a few broken ribs and concussion, I'm gonna do an ultrasound to check for any internal bleeding. But we've got a problem."
"My- my water broke," (Y/n)'s voice was higher than usual and broke off into a whine as she gave a sharp tug on Frank's hand.
She couldn't help but whine at the look on Frank's face when his head shot down in her direction. Clearly he didn't like the sound of that.
It was bad enough that she'd gained a concussion and broken ribs- which they couldn't send her for an X-ray for while she was pregnant- and there was the slight risk and possibility of internal bleeding. But for her waters to have broken as well just put another spanner in the works.
Frank resisted the urge to raise his hand and card his fingers through his hair, something he was prone to doing when he was at home and trying to think or contemplate something. He had his gloves on, he didn't need to contaminate them with the gel stuck to his hair or any loose strands or flakes.
He settled for clenching his hand into a fist and pressing it down into the bed while he tried to get his mind working.
"Okay, okay well we need that ultrasound. If there's no bleeding and the baby's looking good we can give something to prevent contractions-"
"She's already in active labour."
A deep frown etched across Frank's features, brows knitted together as he shook his head while he felt (Y/n) clinging to him tighter than before. "What?"
The look in his eyes was dangerous as he stared ahead at Robby, ignoring Mel who had paused to glance across at him as if to gage his reaction. And Mateo who was trying to weave around them to gently attach the monitoring stickers to (Y/n)'s chest.
"By the time the medics got there her waters had already broken, it took them even longer to get her out the car. She's dilating and having contractions; we're delivering the baby now."
He knew what that meant. It meant the baby was going to be delivered here, in the emergency room. There was no time to try and get hold of anyone in the maternity ward and send (Y/n) upstairs in the hospital. Nor did they want to move her when she needed immediate attention and emergency medicine, which was all their department.
It wasn't often that they had to deliver babies down here in the ER, but it happened on few occasions and clearly, today was going to be one of those occasions.
"Fine, fine then let's do the ultrasound and then we can see how far along dilation is."
When (Y/n) seemed like she was trying to sit forward, Frank eased his arm around her back and carefully helped sit her up while Robby adjusted the height of the bed and pillows so she felt like she was sitting in a chair, not on a bed.
Both (Y/n)'s hands scrunched around the sheets beneath her, her expression taut and drenched in tears as she tried to hold back a sob.
This wasn't how she thought the day would go.
All (Y/n) had done was take the boys out for the morning. They had been on their way back home when that car crossed through a red light and pummeled straight into (Y/n)'s side of the car and sent her veering across the junction. It had been sheer luck that the car didn't end up in a ditch at the side of the road she had been scraped towards.
It was also lucky that the boys hadn't gotten more than a few bruises and terribly shook up.
By the time the police and medics had arrived, (Y/n) was begging them to get them all out the car and crying as she tried to tell them her waters had broken due to the crash. It took them even longer to pry open the car door and cut away at the crushed bonnet to free (Y/n) and get her out. By then she was already feeling contractions and she was undoubtedly in labour.
While Robby wheeled over the ultrasound to get it ready, Frank moved towards the end of the bed but he stopped to peer over at Mel to see what kind of wound she was tending to on (Y/n)'s left leg.
"Jesus." His brows pinched together and his teeth sank down into his lower lip as he caught sight of the wound.
A deep gash cut down from the side of (Y/n)'s knee right down towards her ankle. Not to mention the further cuts and scrapes higher up on her thigh. Mel had put a turniquet around (Y/n)'s leg just above her knee so the wound wasn't oozing and spurting out blood so she could tend to it.
"I- I've numbed it and got the artery just about repaired. Then I'll stitch it." Mel looked up at Frank through her glasses as if she thought he was going to tell her she had done something wrong or critique her.
All he did was give a curt nod in response while his lips remained clamped together, tightly shut. He was angered at the wounds (Y/n) had received and the situation they were now in, not anything his colleagues were doing to try and help. He was grateful to them all.
"Let's take a look and check there's nothing we need to be worried about. Mateo, can you start up an IV please?"
"Sure."
(Y/n) was comforted by their warm smiles and calm voices. Her eyes followed Robby and she could see Frank from where he had perched on a stool at the end of the bed. He was intently watching the ultrasound screen beside Robby, wanting to check for himself if anything was amiss.
(Y/n) tried to remain still and she ended up holding her breath while Robby started the ultrasound on her upper chest to see her stomach and liver. He wanted to make sure there were no internal injuries or bleeds springing up, considering when he gave her chest a quick exam when they came in here, he felt a few broken ribs. That could be cause for concern if they caused any ruptures whether they were big or small.
She barely felt the pinching in the back of her right hand when Mateo popped in the cannula and attached the IV line.
"All clear… liver looks fine." Robby's voice was quiet, his eyes narrowed in concentration as he watched the screen and moved the ultrasound lower.
Frank's attention perked when he watched it move towards the womb. He was rather glad the screen was situated behind (Y/n)'s head so she couldn't properly turn and see it, just in case there was something worrying on there or there was no heartbeat. That thought made Frank shudder as it felt like his heart had dropped down to his gut at the mere implication.
"Small bleed near the placenta, but with you in labour that's not a big concern anymore. We're all good to go Langdon."
Frank nodded, though his gaze was already shifting to catch Mateo's eye. "Get a dose of Oxytocin on standby."
If (Y/n) was having a small bleed already, Frank would bet she would haemorrhage again either during or just after the birth. He wanted to be prepared for that with some medication that would stop the bleed and help clot the blood.
"Will- will she be okay?" (Y/n) wasn't sure whether she was talking to Frank or to Robby.
Her eyes darted between them both and she couldn't help but move one hand to press against her stomach. It was a bit early, they were barely thirty-six weeks along and after a crash, their baby might be startled or in shock when she was born.
But when she looked ahead and caught Frank's eye, he had that stoic, calm expression that was one muscle twitch away from becoming a soothing smile.
"Thirty-six weeks is good, she'll be alright, just a bit shook up." He nodded soothingly and reached out to graze his fingers along (Y/n)'s left calf.
"How are we looking?" Robby rose a brow when he looked over at Frank who was checking how far dilated (Y/n) was.
"Dilated and ready. Alright sweetheart, let's have a girl, hm?"
It was a silent relief to (Y/n) that Frank had taken it upon himself to be the one delivering the baby. He hadn't even said anything or given Robby the chance to be the one to deliver so that Frank could be beside (Y/n) like he had when they had the boys.
This was an emergency, this was an uncanny, uncontrolled situation and Frank wasn't taking any chances or taking a back seat here. It had been hard when they had the boys, for him to sit back and try to close his mouth and not get involve or make suggestions. This time, he was delivering their baby himself, making sure nothing went wrong and everything was under his control.
"I'm sure you know what you're doing (Y/n), big pushes, deep breaths." Robby didn't want to be coaching (Y/n) when she had already done this two times already. This was muscle memory for her body.
Robby didn't object when (Y/n) timidly snagged his hand in hers and coiled it to her side as she tried to sit forward a bit more, but she couldn't. Not when her ribs were aching with every movement and she was already reduced to taking shorter breaths as it didn't hurt her lungs as much.
Aching screams and gasps tore from her lips and her eyes closed tight to try and relieve the pounding headache that presumably from her concussion.
"This is so exciting," Mel murmured more to herself than anyone else as she couldn't help but sneak a glance over at Frank, pausing in her administrations of stitching up (Y/n)'s leg. She knew the sooner the stitches were done, the easier it would be for (Y/n) to concentrate and stop being poked and prodded by everyone.
"Again… head's out. Relax sweetheart, just breathe." Frank looked around but he found Mateo already stood at his side holding out a towel ready for when the baby was out and in his arms. He took it gratefully and laid it over his lap, ready and waiting.
"My side aches, a- and my head," (Y/n) blinked through the dizziness and tried to look up at Robby despite the blinding lights that were making her feel worse.
"As soon as this is over we'll get you on some morphine and away from the bright lights and chaos."
(Y/n) tried to nod but it only made her feel worse so she slumped her head back against the pillows and groaned. Her eyes closed again, trying to block out the blinding lights that seemed to penetrate right through her eyelids and scold her irises.
She wanted to dig her heels down and tense her legs, bring her knees up to try and help her gain some ground and posture and help her push. But she couldn't move her left leg. Mel was stitching it up and it had gone numb after the spray Mel had applied generously all over her skin once it had been cleaned with antiseptic. And it wouldn't feel right with one leg bent up and the other stretched out.
This wasn't how (Y/n) pictured having her third child- their first girl no less- but that couldn't be helped now.
"Alright, little pushes for me. Let's try and get her out quick."
The last thing Frank wanted to do was rush (Y/n) or panic her, but the quicker their girl was out, the better it would be for both of them.
He pushed forward until he was sat on the edge of the stool, his feet tapping and bracing himself against the floor while he raised the towel from his lap to curve around the tiny frame coming into view before him.
He couldn't help the way his nose wrinkled and his lips pursed into a pout when he saw a trickle of blood starting to coat the bottom of the bed and soak into the sheets. At the sight, he tensed and looked towards Mateo, ticking his head for the nurse to come over.
"Oxytocin now. Prep Misoprostol and give a minute apart." Frank wasn't taking any chances or wasting time. He wanted the medication given now before this bleed got any worse and combining it with the other medication would combat the bloodloss much better and hopefully stop it from getting worse.
Mateo did as requested with a calming smile on his face as if Frank had just asked him to give a dose of vitamins, not blood clotters; they all wanted to keep (Y/n) as calm and comfortable as possible.
"She's nearly here."
"One last big push, then you're there." Robby encouraged, leaning to his left so he could lean over and check how Frank was doing and whether the bleeding was now under control.
(Y/n) was sure she was trembling like a leaf and she could taste blood on her tongue when her teeth chomped down on her tongue despite the groan that surged past her lips.
Her jaw ached and stayed as tense as if it were wired shut and unable to move in any direction. Her tongue pulsed from the pressure her teeth applied and her head was constantly spinning in circles. Her head felt like it weighed a ton, unable to lift up from the pillow. It took all of (Y/n)'s effort to open her eyes and to carefully uncurl her hand from Robby's gloved hand that was probably aching and bruised by now.
Her trembling, aching arms curved towards her chest but (Y/n)'s sights were solely focused on Frank.
He looked in awe.
Pupils blown so wide there was barely any hint of baby blue left of his irises. Lips wet and parted wide, curved up at one corner into a grin that was so endearing (Y/n) was almost in tears. And those big eyes were focused down on the little form bundled in a towel resting in his arm.
She couldn't see their little girl, not when Frank was leant over her trying to make sure her airways were clear and opening. And Mateo was also leant over so he could cut the cord and make the progress a bit swifter for them all.
A little cry barely fluttered through the air before Frank was up on his feet and leaning against the end of the bed that dug into the top of his thighs so he could lean over towards (Y/n).
"Here we go… she's perfect." Frank's arms felt unusually hollow when their girl was out of his embrace and snuggled down against (Y/n)'s chest. So he settled his hands on (Y/n)'s hips, remaining leant over her so he could stare at both his girls.
"Mateo, can you get the incubator from next door? She'll probably need a few days in there to perk up a bit."
"Sure."
(Y/n) couldn't stop the tears that streaked down her face until her blurring eyes were worse than before and could barely see a thing at all.
As a breathless "She's here," fell past her lips, she felt Frank's hand, now void of his gloves, cup the side of her face and brush his thumb across her lower lip.
"Yes she is." He agreed. She was here. They were all safe; everything was going to be just fine.
content: black!fem!reader implied but no descriptions used, divorced!langdon, use of (y/n), gen z speak, foul language, mentions of addiction, suggestiveness, spoilers,doesn't follow the pitt timeline or canon, lotssss of creative liberties taken
inspired by: @/p1ttlings and @/tequilai
dividers by: @/saradika-graphics
series masterlist
love letter: reader acting like the concept of langdon flirting with her is insane as if she didn’t start this..right right…ok love ya! bye! 💌
Summary: Frank doesn’t like asking for things he needs. Good thing you’re there to give them to him anyway.
Pairing: DDBAS1!Frank x gf!reader
WC/Tags: 529 / established relationship, Frank is bad at feels, hugging
A/N: for Frank Castle countdown 5/2 ‘hug’ by @darlingshane
Frank isn’t the type to ask for things he needs.
He’s hungry? He’ll make himself a sandwich. Needs to let off some steam? He’ll head straight to the shitty parts of New York and find folks doing wrong that he can straighten out with his fists.
If he wants something, he’ll do it himself.
Frank can’t hug himself though.
He’s tired. Between arguing with Matt about Fisk and the stress of keeping all of that mess away from you, his strength is worn. His beard wet from his shower, he braces his hands on the porcelain sink in your bathroom. It’s pale white, clean, the tiles a deep cream color that conveyed serenity. It’s the opposite of his home, all Sharp edges and smelling of gun powder.
His eyes flick up to his reflection, taking in the damaged expanse of his torso and his jaw ticks. He needs a shave. He needs a god damn coffee, he needs-
“Baby? You finished?” Your voice is light, lighter than his has ever has been, and he doesn’t answer, his chin dropping. The soft patter of your socks comes from down the hall and you peer in, your nails braced on the door edge. He straightens quickly, like you had caught him in a weak moment. His muscles tight, back straight, a mask quickly falling in place to cover the vulnerable man beneath. He watches you in the mirror, taking in your pajamas and messy hair.
“Frank?” You question, and he smiles but it’s tight, not meeting his eyes. You rub your lips together before moving to his back, peering at him from behind his shoulder. “You okay?”
His hands grip the edge of the sink a little tighter, knuckles whitening. “Yeah,” he grunts, voice rough. But the lie hangs heavy between you both; he knows it, and so do you. His reflection meets yours in the mirror, that stubborn jaw set like steel. “Just tired.”
“Mm,” you hum, and when you nod your chin swipes his skin. “You..sure?”
Frank doesn’t reply, and you sigh before slipping your arms around his waist, pressing your chest to his back, your cheek right between his shoulder blades. His skin is still damp and warm from the shower as you lock your hands on his middle.
You can feel the sudden tension in his shoulders fade at your touch, replaced by a deep exhale as he leans back into you. The feeling of you against him, the gentle warmth of your arms, it's familiar. Almost instinctually, his hand lifts, his calloused fingers closing around one of your wrists.
“I’m here,” you murmur, twisting your face and pressing a kiss to his skin. “When you need me.”
His thumb brushes slow circles over your wrist, his breath finally steadying. “Know you are,” he rumbles, voice quieter now, less tight. Then, with a sigh that sounds almost like surrender: “Just... stay like this a minute.”
“Sure baby,” your murmur against his skin, and you know there’s something he isn’t telling you. Things in his life that weigh on him but he won’t dare voice them, so you hold onto him a little tighter. “Whatever you need.”
