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never getting over this shot

he just thinks his life is so fucking over and his family is taking up the whole screen

#frank langdon #abby langdon #tanner langdon #unnamed langdon child #the pitt

Convalescence

Summary: Post rehab, Frank Langdon walks into the wrong meeting before his first day back at work and happens to meet just the right person.

A doctor walks into a grief group thinking it’s an NA meeting.

Pairing: Frank Langdon X Celebrity Reader!

Tags: drug-use, rehab, addiction, explicit sexual content later on (will be marked).

Masterlist

Chapter 1

Three hundred and four days. Three hundred and four days. Three hundred and four days-

“Frank?”

“Huh?” He stopped fiddling with the bracelet on his wrist. Abby was standing before him, a light box in hand. The kids were running around his new hardwood floors and trying (but failing) to scale the island next to his stainless steel kitchen. “Did you say something, babe?”

The nickname rolled of his tongue- a habit borne out of six years of marriage and nine altogether. Abby’s mouth tightened. This wasn’t easy for her either. “I was saying I’d like to take the kids up to my parents’ for the weekend, if you’re okay with it.”

Frank’s hands tightened at his sides. “I thought we were all gonna spend Independence Day together?”

“You’re working,” Abby reminded him, not unkindly. “It’s your first shift back.”

“I can get off-”

“No.” Her tone was final. Frank learned a long time ago not to argue with her when she got like this. “You need to go back to work. I know you miss it. You love your job-”

“I love you and the kids more.”

Abby’s gaze softened. Though they had not been in love for a long time, they loved each other all the same. They were best friends, college sweethearts and parents of the most perfect children in the entire world. “I know. What time is your meeting?”

“Five thirty,” he answered. Something tugged on his jeans. Penny was at his feet, arms up and reaching for him. Frank picked her up and placed a kiss on her little blonde head, “Hey, babygirl.” Tanner was spinning on one of the chairs next to his island. Abby pulled him off, and a perfect copy of his own blue eyes looked at him for help. “You know that’s dangerous, buddy.”

“Momma says we’re going to see grandma and grandpa.”

“I heard, buddy. You excited?” Frank leaned over and tousled his son’s hair. It was getting long. Almost time for a hair cut.

“Can you come with us?” He and Abby locked eyes. Penny, now three and only just gaining social awareness, stopped playing with the button atop his shirt. She seemed to sense the tension settling into the room. Her hazel eyes filled with concern.

“Papa?”

“Papa’s going back to work.” Frank watched the smile slide off his son’s face. If he had a quarter for every time he made that happen, he could have bought himself a new brain. One that wasn’t addicted to drugs. “I’m sorry.”

God, he’d been apologizing a lot lately. And he had more to do. Robby, Mel, Santos… He already made his amends to Abby. There was a lot of crying, some cursing, hugging, and one mutual decision to separate. Divorce papers were signed and a fifty/fifty custody agreement reached. The kids were accustomed to him being gone for long hours. They were sad that daddy wouldn’t be living with them, but he made sure to get an apartment big enough that they also had their own rooms there.

“When we get back, we’ll decorate your rooms with papa. How does that sound?” It was crazy how the flip switched. Frank was once the busy parent, the one for laughs and kicks and sneaking snacks before bed because his guilt over working too much ate him alive.

Abby was the strict one. Always with the kids, always exhausted when he came home, leaving him free to console the kids with jokes and heavy promises of puppies and staying up late. Now, she was the one who knew what to say. She was the one doing the consoling and he was the one too exhausted to think.

“I want yellow,” Tanner announced, and Frank made a mental note to go look at paint samples before he came back. “Penny wants pink, ‘cause she’s a girl.” He pulled a face.

“I like pink,” Penny mumbled. A yawn stifled the end of her sentence. Her little face nuzzled into Frank’s neck, and he knew she’d be asleep before he buckled her into her car seat.

“I know, babygirl.” He nodded to Abby. “Let me give you guys a ride home. When is your flight?”

“Tonight. Wanted to get away from the July 4th traffic.”

“Smart.” They were at the car now. Abby secured Tanner in the backseat while Frank placed Penny in the car seat. It was blue and covered with stickers, the same one they used for Tanner when he was that little, because the kids were so close in age. He placed a little kiss on her forehead and shut the door as quiet as possible.

“I left you some salmon in your fridge to take to work. Just reheat it.”

He wouldn’t get to it. Abby knew it too. He already had the kitchen stocked with protein bars to shove in his pocket and those little protein yogurt smoothies Collins had put him onto. But, “Thanks,” he said, and drove off,

His new apartment wasn’t far from the house. About fifteen minutes, so he could get to the kids and Abby quickly in cases of emergency. Tanner kept up a steady supply of chatter, interspersed with the adults working out the details of who would have the kids post Independence weekend. He thought it was fair. Abby did, too.

When he pulled up to the house, the car went quiet. Penny’s gentle snores, Tanner’s sudden change in mood and Abby’s furrowed brow had tears forming in his eyes. He hated dropping them off knowing he was headed back to a lonely apartment.

“Hey,” Abby placed a hand on his. “One day at a time.”

He squeezed her hand, thankful that Abby was a better person than he ever could be. Her support meant the world to him this past year. “One day at a time.” She unclipped her seatbelt and exited the car.

One cheek kiss and bear hug session with Tanner later, Frank was pulling out of the driveway and watching Abby’s Volvo disappear in the rear-view mirror.

OooO

You were late. It was your first day of grief group, and you were late. And you were the one who wanted to go. You were the one who moved yourself and Livy to Pittsburgh simply so she could go to the private school her mother went to. That was all her mother ever wanted- for her daughter to have the life she never could.

It wasn’t that much to live up too, and Livy did a fabulous job. Sometimes you wondered if it was a bit too much. At night, you often laid awake and mulled over the events of the past year- the hold on your projects, the move from LA, Livy switching schools in the middle of junior year. You worried it would be too much for her. The girl was brilliant albeit a bit neurotic, and the last thing you wanted was for her to crack under the pressure.

Justin was good at alleviating your fears. He slid into your life and helped you with Livy like the father she never had- the father your sister didn’t know and couldn’t begin to pinpoint. And now he was gone, from a virus of all things, and you and Livy were alone again.

A thirty-one-year-old widow and the seventeen-year-old orphan of her dead sister. A match made in heaven, really.

Your phone pinged. You slid it out of your pocket and unlocked it with one hand. The other clutched an iced coffee like your life depended on it.

Did you get there on time? It was from Livy.

Yes, mom. You hoped the sarcasm radiated through the screen. What about you? You feeling okay?

She was going through her first break up and decided to spend the weekend with her grandparents at their house near Lake Elizabeth. You let her go, because God knows you needed some time alone, and thankfully your parents understood. The rest of the weekend was reserved for a hot bath, loud music, glasses of wine and finally writing the beginning of season three of your show. Your producers were up your ass about it.

I’m good. We’re going for a swim in a bit. Grandpa says hi.

You heard voices in the distance. The meeting had already started.

Hi back. Call me day after when they’re driving you up, okay? Love you.

Love ya.

She ended the message with a little heart emoji, and you smiled. You never really wanted kids. Even with Justin. You loved him, and he loved you, but you never felt the immense need to be barefoot and pregnant. Livy was sort of a cheat code. A niece turned ward turned adopted daughter you got to see grow from a baby to a teenager without having to actually rip your body apart. It was-

“Fuck.” Someone bumped into you. You gripped your coffee instead of your phone. It flew out of your hand and towards the wall of a person before you. You could afford another phone. The world could not afford your irritation if this iced coffee fell from your hands before you got a sip.

“I’m so sorry!” you rushed out, because it was your fault. You were walking and texting- a behavior that was normal in LA but downright dangerous here. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“It’s fine. I’m a bit lost.” The source of the smooth voice before you was ridiculously hot. He looked like he stepped right out of one of your leading man auditions. Tall, with dark fluffy hair and the most piercing blue eyes you’d ever seen. You almost moaned. You loved blue eyes. “Your phone.”

He gave it to you, voice almost amused. “I noticed you kept ahold of that coffee.”

“Better the phone than this, trust me.”

He stared at you, and you shrank back a bit. You tugged on the baseball cap on your head- one of Justin’s, because you hated baseball- and tilted your chin down. People recognized you more in LA, where celebrities walked the streets like oxygen filled lungs, but it was normal. No one really reacted unless it was a tourist. Here? In Pittsburgh? Everyone reacted.

They saw your face and the same thing happened every time. It started with surprise, because oh my god a famous person, then the light in their eyes dimmed a bit as they recalled your most recent headline.

Hollywood starlet’s husband dead from COVID. Moves away from LA with daughter to start life anew, leaving all projects unfinished and fans wanting more.

That was when you’d walk away. And you hoped that this man, with the Penguins cap and bomber jacket and annoyingly sharp jawline, would not do the same.

“Do you know where the meeting is?” he asked. There was no hint of recognition in his eyes. He looked a few years older, definitely not the age group of people your shows catered too. You were popular amongst teens and young adults. This man was more scotch and Walker Texas Ranger,

“Oh yeah. I’m on my way there too.”

His eyebrow quirked. “Really?”

“Yeah…” His surprise threw you off. “We come in all shapes and sizes, you know.” You wondered who he lost. A spouse, maybe? A look at his ring finger showed a fading tan, clearly from a recently removed wedding ring. Most likely a wife.

“Apparently so,” he answered. “Never thought it’d happen to me.”

You both entered the meeting together, an odd pair, and sat together. You didn’t know anyone, and clearly neither did he, so the safest bet did seem like each other.

“Ah. Always someone late on the first day.” The voice came from a mischievous looking ginger with eyes that crinkled when he smiled. You could tell he meant no harm, just trying to lighten the mood. Unfortunately, you weren’t at your best today.

“Gee,” the word dripped with satire, “I sure do hope I’m not pregnant!”

Blue eyes snorted. Half surprise and half indignation, if you had to guess. “It’s my fault. I was lost, she was helping me.”

“You’re okay,” the group leader replied. His name tag said ‘Rick’ in block letters. “You made it in. That’s the first step.” You shared a look with blue eyes. He looked oddly confused.

“The first step?” he repeated.

“As I was saying, I know it’s hard for some of you to speak on the first day. However, talking aloud is the point of this meeting. For this, I’m gonna ask everyone to reach under their chairs-” Oh no. “- where you’ll find the talking order for the next few sessions.”

You reached under your metal chair. Sure enough, there was a piece of paper taped to it. You peeled it off, already regretting not just going back home when cowardice set in on your drive here. “Oh, thank God.” A fat number ten stared back at you. At least it wasn’t-

“Fuck.” The exclamation came from blue eyes. He was frowning at the scribbled number one written in blue ink on his paper. For a split second, his eyes slid to you. You could see him begging you to switch, and for a second you considered it.

Then Rick spoke up. “Looks like we have lucky number one! Why don’t you come up here!”

“I’ll stay here.” Blue eyes had his guard up. Sympathy bled into you. This was a man who clearly was not used to talking about his problems. You were. From a dead sister to overbearing parents to your career and Livy, you’d had your fair share of therapists.. “Uh, my name is Frank.”

“Hi, Frank!” The chorus had you clutching your coffee to your chest. He stared at you with wide eyes, and you gave a little shake of your head. This was your first day at a grief meeting, too.

“Uh, hey.” He wiped sweaty palms on the thighs of well worn jeans. “Frank Langdon. I’m thirty-four. I’m a doctor.” Fits, you thought. Except for the name. “I guess it started ten months ago? I had a back injury from helping my parents move…”

You listened to him intently, wondering when the grief part was going to show itself. So far he was just yapping about his back injury, his pain, his- Wait.

“Yeah, so. I went to a colleague of mine and he gave me these pills-”

“Hey, blue eyes-” you started, only to be cut off by the withering glare from Ranger Rick across the room. He gave a tight shake of his head that had you simpering in your seat.

Not that you would have done much anyway. Frank seemed to be lost in memory. His eye glazed over while his mouth moved on auto, talking about pain meds and benzodiazepines until he ended with, “So, now I’m a drug addict.”

Whispers broke out from the crowd. A lady across from you- thrice your age with graying hair- clutched at her chest. Frank, who finally seemed to realize something was wrong, stared at you for clarification. Instead, you clapped a hand over your forehead.

“What?” came his confused voice.

“This is a grief support group,” you hear Ranger Rick say. “Narcotics Anonymous is upstairs.”

You heard a chair screech, and looked up just in time to see Dr. Frank Langdon running towards the door.

Chapter 2

#the pitt #frank langdon #frank langdon x reader #frank langdon x you #mel king #dr robby #cassie mckay #jack abbot #tanner langdon #penny langdon

The Langdons

#i believe this from after the first shift on 4th of july :')#they watched fireworks as a family after the shift #frank langdon #tanner langdon #penny langdon #the pitt #frank langdon fanart #the pitt fanart

let’s read bedtime stories with papa <3

#everyone say hiiiiii tanner and millie #want it on the record i was already working on this before those pictures dropped yesterday my finger was on the pulse #my art #mine #frank langdon #the pitt #the pitt fanart #tanner langdon #millie langdon

I just have this feeling that Tanner Langdon is a very old little man. He’s got little kid glasses, and asked for suspenders for his birthday and likes to write songs. He conducts very serious experiments with his mud and sand. His dad once told him what triplicates are, and while he’s a bit too small to quite understand the statistical relevance, he understood that experiments are more valuable if you do the same one three times.

Frank is so worried that he’ll get the whimsy bullied out of him, but refuses to quench any of his enthusiasm early. The world is a tough enough place and he refuses to let his home be a part of that. He’s so proud of his odd little guy, and loves him so much.

#frank langdon #tanner langdon