a short hurt/comfort langdonmel drabble for everyone beneath the cut. don't think i've got them nailed well enough for ao3 yet so pls enjoy it here instead!
It’s always around hour ten that it starts to really hurt. He can run on redbull and protein bars for the first six hours, adrenaline for the next three, but then his back begins to ache and his mind starts to wander and it’s just—it’s bad. He has to stand in the cubicle in the bathroom, his foot propped up on the seat and his head bent forward, breathing deeply as if it will provide a modicum of relief. It’s so much worse than before. Some days, it’s manageable enough but today he’s done a hip reduction and caught a patient as they went flailing off the cot and his back is killing him. He thinks he would throw up if there was anything in his stomach, he lost the ability to eat hours ago.
He pushes a hand through his hair, slaps it back on the tiled wall and takes another deep breath, counting in for six and out for four. He knows the science of it, the way it’s meant to lower your blood pressure and relax muscles, but that simply isn’t enough today. He knows what he wants. He wants it so bad his hands are almost shaking with it. And he knows where they are and how to get them. It would be so easy is the thing, and it would fix this pain, this hurt, and then he could go back to being a doctor the way he wants to be. Strong, capable.
But then Robby might come to him at the end of a shift with a plastic tube and a raised eyebrow and it would all be over. He would be done, which would be a worse pain than this. He knows that.
A shiver goes up his spinal column and he grits his teeth, scrunches his eyes shut. An embarrassing squeak works its way up his throat.
The door of the bathroom creaks as it swings open, and Frank swallows back bile.
“Langdon?” It’s Abbott’s voice calling out. His voice is laced with a tone of concern, not just a ‘where are you?’ but a ‘what are you doing?’.
“Yep,” Frank replies, voice tight, “What are you—shit—what are you doing here?”
“Robby covered me a few hours last week, promised him I’d pay him back. You doing okay?”
“Just taking a minute,” he says. It’s not a lie. He hears the door shut as Abbott moves further into the bathroom.
“Okay, that’s cool,” he pauses, “look, I don’t want to overstep but can I get you anything?”
The door swings open again.
“Dr. Langdon?”
“Dr. King?” Abbott says it a little exclamatory. Frank finds himself grinning for a moment, before his back reminds him why he’s in here. “This is the men’s room.”
“I know,” she says, “I didn’t meant to disturb you. I thought Dr. Langdon was in here.” It’s said with such sincerity that he would wince if everyone in the ED hadn’t already seen him at his worst. It’s probably not the best habit they have developed, of Mel coming to find him in the men’s room, alone, but it’s never been weird to her so he hasn’t let it be weird to him.
“I’m here, Mel,” he calls out, picturing the look Abbott is giving her. Pinched eyebrows, pursed lips.
“Oh, good,” she replies, “I was looking for you.”
He groans a little as he places his foot back on solid ground, left hand bending behind him to press to his spine. It still hurts. He unlocks the door, opens it, and leans on the doorway, folding his arms over his chest. Abbott is looking between the two of them, frowning, and Mel is looking at him with wide eyes, biting the right corner of her lip with a canine.
“I’m going to head back into the chaos. See you guys out there in five,” Abbott says, nodding at them, and strides out of the room. Frank purses his lips, amused.
“It’s a bad day, isn’t it?” Mel states, and the hint of a smile drops from his face.
“Yeah, it’s, it’s not good,” he sighs. He moves gingerly towards the sink and holds his hand under the soap dispenser before beginning to wash his hands methodically. “Sorry, I just. I don’t know how much I can talk right now.”
Mel steps behind him and they meet eyes in the mirror. She looks fraught, her glasses a little askew.
“Is everything okay out there?” He asks, noting the blood on the hem of her scrubs, untucked from her pants.
“Yeah, we had a near miss with an MVC patient but they made it.”
“Shit. Sorry I missed it.” He dries his hands with a paper towel, lets it flutter into the garbage. His back tightens again, and he has to lean forward for a moment, forehead on the wall. He feels the silence take on weight before Mel speaks again.
“Frank, you should go home,” she says, quietly, “there’s not that much time left now.”
“No,” he cuts her off. It’s rude, and unpleasant. And he knows Mel hates it when people don’t listen to her because she finds it hard to speak over people to get their attention back. “God, sorry, Mel.” He turns back around to face her. She’s giving him a disappointed stare.
“I think you need to rest your back,” she says, voice wavering, “and that means you need to go home.”
He puts his hands over his face. He can’t work like this. It’s not fair to the patients and it doesn’t prove to anyone that he’s looking after himself, he knows this. He doesn’t want to take it out on people he cares for either.
“Yeah,” it’s muffled, he pulls his hands down his face, “okay.”
Mel gives him a soft smile, her lips tugging upwards. It always makes his day better, making her smile. She never restricts how she feels, or she can’t, and he’s trying to get better at that. Not hiding. Not anymore.
“Okay, good,” there’s a moment of hesitation, but she reaches her hand out to him, “come on, I know it will help.”
It would so he takes it, lets her shoulder some of his bodyweight. She could probably take all of it, if he’s honest, she’s sneakily strong. There was a story once about her playing soccer that his brain catches on. None of them ever got to the bottom of it, Mel being uncharacteristically tight-lipped, but if he had to guess, that’s where she gets it from. And he knows she’s got really into the gym, especially since he went to rehab.
“You’re the best,” he breathes, finally getting some relief. She knocks her head into his shoulder.
“You’re welcome.”
They emerge from the bathroom to Abbott staring directly at them from his desk. He jumps up when he sees Mel helping him, and hurries over to them.
“Woah, what happened? Everything okay?”
Frank grits his teeth.
“All good. I’m going to have go home, though,” he says, and Abbott nods, glancing at Mel. She purses her lips.
“Of course, brother, don’t sweat it,” he presses a hand to Frank’s free shoulder, “you just get home safe.”
“I’m putting him in a taxi,” Mel says, and Frank whips his head around to glare at her,
“I can drive,” he says, shortly.
“There’s no way you’re getting in and out of a car like this,” she points out, her tone deliberately gentle.
She’s right, of course.
“Fine,” he acquiesces, and lets her lead him out of the ED towards reception, Abbott watching them go.
