Warnings: angst (+18), postpartum hemorrhage, fever, severe tremors, medical trauma, happy/comfort ending.
Summary: As you fight for your life in emergency surgery, Frank clings to your newborn son, praying for the moment he can bring his family back together.
For hours, a chaotic agony was ripping through your lower back and abdomen.
Frank laced his fingers lightly through yours. He had explicitly stepped away from the charts today to just be your partner. Yet, you could feel the slight tremor in his hand, see the rigid set of his shoulders, and read the quiet dread masking his handsome features.
"You're doing so well, sweetheart," he murmured. He used his free hand to brush a damp strand of hair from your forehead.
"Frank, something... something feels wrong," you gasped, your voice breaking as another contraction peaked. It wasn’t just the blinding pain of childbirth; a deep sickness was blooming in the pit of your stomach. A wave of intense nausea hit you, making your head spin violently. "I feel really sick. Like... I'm going to vo-vomit or pass out."
Frank’s eyes flicked briefly to the monitors, his medical brain instantly calculating, but he consciously forced it down. He was on boyfriend duty today. He had to trust his colleagues. "It’s the transition phase, baby. Nausea, feeling overwhelmed, thinking you can't do it, remember? Completely normal."
The attending nurse entered, checking the monitors and offering a comforting nod. "Dr. Langdon is right. It's totally normal to feel sick at this stage. You're doing great, mom."
But it didn't feel normal. It felt like your body was collapsing in on itself.
When the time came to push, the room was filled with sharp commands and agonizing effort. You cried out as the final wave of pressure took over. And then, the sharp cry of your baby cut through the room.
Frank let out a breath that sounded like a sob, leaning down to press a kiss to your sweating temple. "It's a boy, baby."
They placed the crying newborn on your chest, but instead of the overwhelming rush of warmth you had expected, a violent chill swept through your veins.
Your teeth began to chatter. Not a mild shiver, but an uncontrollable rattling.
"F- Frank..." you wheezed, your arms trembling so violently you could barely hold your son. The nurse quickly and gently took the baby from your chest, sensing the sudden shift in the room's energy.
"I've got him, it's okay," the nurse said, her voice losing its casual warmth.
"I'm... I'm cold," you whispered, your jaw locking as a severe tremor racked your entire upper body. Sweat was pouring down your face, but you were freezing from the inside out. Your vision began to vignette. "I, I don't feel well."
Frank’s hand went to your forehead. The instant his palm touched your skin, his expression shattered. You were burning up.
As a doctor, he knew exactly what the combination of severe tremors, a sudden fever, and your fading color meant. But as your boyfriend, as a new father, he was completely paralyzed by the sheer terror of it. He forced himself to step back physically, refusing to interfere with the attending medical team, knowing he was too emotionally compromised to touch a single instrument.
The attending doctor moved quickly, lifting the sheets. The moment they did, the atmosphere in the room turned to ice.
"We have a postpartum hemorrhage," the doctor announced sharply. "Get a new line open, hang oxytocin, and get me two units of packed red cells on standby. Now! Move!"
Your eyes fluttered, heavy and uncooperative. Through the fog, you saw Frank. Right now, he was a man staring down his worst nightmare, completely at the mercy of the doctors swarming around you.
"Frank? What is happening?" you whimpered, your body violently jerking from the tremors. You felt a terrifying emptiness spreading inside you, a numbness creeping up your legs.
"It's okay, I'm here," he said, his voice cracking as he leaned over you. He poured all of his energy into you.
"I'm scared."
"Hey, hey, they're taking care," he said but he squeezed his eyes shut for a fraction of a second, swallowing down the medical terminology screaming in his head, choosing instead to just hold you. "Let them do their jobs. Look at me. You're okay."
It was a nightmare: the clatter of medical instruments, the frantic shouting of orders from the medical team, the alarm of the vitals monitor as your blood pressure plummeted.
The chaos in the room escalated. Frank knew the meaning of the rapid shallow breaths you were taking. He knew what it meant when the monitor's alarm shifted from a warning beep to a continuous whine.
"Blood pressure is dropping!" the attending doctor called out, his voice tense. "We need to move. Call the OR, tell them we’re coming down right now. Postpartum hemorrhage, secondary to uterine atony, suspected shock."
The words floated over Frank, each one hitting him like a physical blow. He didn't argue. He just gripped your hand tighter, his knuckles stark white, his chest heaving as he tried to swallow down a sob.
"F-Frank..." your voice was barely a breath now. The violent tremors were starting to exhaust your muscles, leaving you weak and dangerously still. The fever burned against his palms. "Babyboy?"
"He's safe, sweetheart. He's right here in the nursery, he's perfect," Frank lied smoothly. He hadn't even looked at the bassinet; his eyes hadn't left your face for a single second. "He's okay but I need you to stay with me, okay? He's waiting for you."
The bed brakes clicked and made you flinch.
"Dr. Langdon, we have to move her now," a nurse said gently.
"I'm staying until the double doors," Frank said.
During the sprint down the hallway, Frank walked briskly alongside you, practically running backward, his body hunched over yours to stay in your line of sight.
"Hey, we'll be waiting for you," he said.
You tried to hold onto his gaze, but your eyelids felt like lead. And the fever made everything spin. "I love you," you whispered, the words slipping out just as the world began to completely fade.
"I love you too, sweetheart."
Then came the sound of the double doors of the surgical suite. The doors swung shut, the small square windows offering a brief glimpse of the blue surgical scrubs before you were wheeled around the corner, completely out of sight.
The heavy double doors of the surgical suite remained firmly shut.
For a long moment, Frank stayed collapsed against the corridor wall.
Then, a distant cry echoed from down the hall, snapping him out of his trance.
Frank forced himself to his feet. He sanitized his hands automatically with the hand sanitizer outside the neonatal unit before stepping into the quiet lit of the nursery.
A nurse looked up, her eyes filled with deep sympathy. "Dr. Langdon... she’s in good hands down there. Do you want to hold him?"
Frank couldn't speak. He just nodded, numbed by the sheer weight of everything happening at once. The nurse gently lifted the small baby from the incubator and transferred him into Frank’s arms.
The moment the baby's weight settled against his chest, Frank’s breath hitched. He sat down in a nearby chair, his eyes locked onto the tiny pink face peering up at him.
The baby had stopped crying, settling instantly against his father's warmth, his tiny hands tucked up near his chin.
Frank looked at the baby’s features, a fresh wave of emotion crashing over him.
"Hey there," Frank whispered. He brought his shaking hand up, using the side of his index finger to gently stroke the baby’s impossibly soft cheek. "You're really beautiful... you know that?"
Frank let out a watery breath, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he looked closer.
"You got your mom's nose," he murmured, his voice cracking. He leaned down, pressing his forehead gently against the baby’s tiny head, inhaling the sweet new scent of him. "The exact same nose. You look so much like her already."
The baby made a snuffling sound, shifting slightly in his grip. Frank tightened his arms around him, holding him close.
"Mom is in surgery right now," Frank whispered. "She... she got really sick, really fast. But she’s fighting. She’s so strong. And we're just gonna wait for her up here, okay? Just you and me. We’re gonna wait right here."
Frank looked back down into his son's eyes, his expression softening into some intensely fierce, fierce with a father's protective love.
"You're gonna be good to her, hm?" Frank said, his thumb gently caressing the baby's tiny hand. "When she gets back, we are gonna protect mama. No matter what. We're gonna take care of her, yeah?"
The baby let out a tiny sigh, closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep, completely safe in his father's arms.
Frank kept rocking him, staring at the door, holding onto his son and praying with everything he had for the heavy double doors downstairs to open.
_
You slowly blinked your eyes open, the heavy fog of the anesthesia finally lifting. You still felt incredibly weak, your muscles sore and your body entirely exhausted from the trauma, but the burning fever and the chills were completely gone.
The first thing you felt was the warm of Frank’s hand holding yours.
He was sitting in the chair right beside your bed, hunched forward, his eyes fixed entirely on your face. He looked exhausted, but the moment he saw your eyes flutter open and focus on him, the crushing tension in his shoulders completely vanished.
"Hey," he whispered. "Welcome back, baby."
You looked up at him, then searched for your baby. He was beside your bed. Your eyes met Frank’s again. The relief on his face was palpable, but beneath it, you could still see the lingering shadows of the terror he had carried for hours.
"Hi, love," you whispered, your voice a little raspy. "What... what happened?"
"You had a postpartum hemorrhage," he explained. "Your uterus didn't contract down the way it was supposed to. It’s called uterine atony. Because of that, you started bleeding very heavily, very quickly."
You nodded slowly. "The shaking..."
"That was your body going into shock from the blood loss," Frank murmured, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your skin. "It’s a systemic response. They moved you to the OR to stabilize you. The surgeons did an incredible job. They stopped the bleed, got your vitals back up, and made sure you were safe."
"Is... Is he...?"
"Our boy is perfect," Frank said quickly. He stood up and moved over to the clear bassinet beside the bed. With gentle hands, he lifted the swaddled bundle, supporting the baby's head as he brought him over to you. "Look at him. He’s just been waiting for his mama."
Frank carefully adjusted your pillows, helping you shift into a comfortable position, making sure not to strain your abdomen. He placed the baby gently into your arms, guiding your hand to hold him securely against your chest.
Meeting your son for the first time, a tear slipped down your cheek. He was so tiny, so perfect, completely unaware of the storm you had all just weathered.
He looked so much like Frank, but with the tiny features Frank had whispered about in the nursery.
A soft knock on the door broke the quiet and a nurse stepped into the room. "Knock, knock. I see mom is awake. How are we feeling?"
"Tired," you admitted weakly, looking down at the baby, who was starting to root around against your hospital gown. "Can I feed him? Although I'm.. weak."
"That is completely understandable given what your body went through," the nurse said gently, walking over to the opposite side of the bed. "And yes, you can."
Frank immediately moved to give the nurse room. He didn't step in with medical instructions; he just watched you with pure adoration, completely content to let the nurse guide you.
The nurse deftly used a few extra pillows to prop up your elbows, taking the weight of the baby off your exhausted muscles. "Let's try a cross cradle hold since you're resting," she murmured, gently showing you how to guide the baby's head. She helped you get your son positioned, showing you how to wait for him to open his mouth.
"There you go," the nurse encouraged softly as the baby latched on perfectly. A sucking sound filled the room. "He’s got a great latch. You're doing wonderful."
The nurse gave your leg a reassuring pat, smiled at Frank and quietly slipped out of the room to give you three some privacy.
You looked down at the tiny miracle cradled against you. Slowly, you raised your hand, your fingertips tracing the soft curve of his cheek.
"Hi, beautiful boy," you whispered, your voice laced with awe. "Hi... I'm your mama. I'm so sorry I scared you."
The baby made a tiny grunting noise, adjusting his latch, his little fist pressing firmly against your chest.
"You are so strong, aren't you?" you murmured softly, a tear of pure happiness escaping your eye and tracking down your face. "You waited for me. Thank you for waiting for me, sweet boy. We're gonna be okay now. I promise. Mama's right here."
Frank watched the two of you, his chest heaving as a wave of intense emotion hit him. Hearing your voice wrap around your son for the first time broke him. He reached out, his thumb gently wiping away the tear that had traced down your cheek, before leaving his hand to rest against your face, his palm warm and steady.
"You''re so beautiful," Frank whispered, his eyes glassy as he looked between you and your son.
"I'm okay. We're okay," you whispered back, looking up into his eyes, seeing the dad and the partner who had held onto you through the worst of it.
"Yeah," Frank breathed, a smile finally breaking across his face as he looked down at his son nursing. "We've got her, buddy. We're gonna take care of mama."
To help with your writing inspo✨ I’ll pick 70s logan and logan showing you how to play pool on a date 🤭
(You can make it as fluffy or smutty as you want!!)
Pool
70s! Logan Howlett
A/N: why is he so hot wtf. Also implied sexy times at the end
"When you're down to the 8-ball, you have to call where you're shooting it," He points with the end of pool cue, before bending over the table, aiming the pool cue towards the bottom of the cue ball, "Top left corner"
You nodded slowly, using your own pool stick to lean on and watch him, pretending you were listening but rather more just admiring how he looked bent over the table. His unfairly, incredibly handsome face full of concentration. His jeans hugged his ass and thighs nicely, the fabric stretching around him. The muscles of his arms flexed as he worked on getting the perfect shot, he had a flannel on but took it off during the game- you think likely to show off his biceps since his shirt looks like it's going to rip apart any second.
He pulled the pool cue back, before a ping! of the stick connecting to the ball sounded, clacking against the 8-ball, it bounces around the walls of the table before slowly rolling to the top left corner- as Logan called it- tittering over the edge and finally falling into the hole.
He stands up, arms opened up with a cocky smirk. "That's the game."
"Yes, good game" You smile straightening up and walking close to him. "However, a true gentleman would have let me won the first time I ever played."
He grins, "Well than how are you supposed to learn?"
You scoff and rolled your eyes, turning away from him to return you pool cue to the rack on the wall but an arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you back against him.
"Alright, alright, let me show you a few more tricks first."
He sets the pool cue aside, reaching for his cigar that was resting in an ash tray to take a quick hit of it, watching you with something devilish in his eyes before replacing it as he blows a big puff of smoke into the air.
He grabs the 8-ball, setting it in a random spot on the table, as well as the cue ball, placing it in a position off towards the end of the table. He then pulled you towards him, a hand on your back to encourage you to bend over, and placing the pool cue in your hands. He stands over you, arms wrapping around you to help you aim the cue correctly.
You could feel him. His hips pressed against your ass, his broad chest leaning against your back. His breath was warm against your ear.
"Call it," He murmurs.
You felt warmth low in your belly, shaking your head at him. You examine the placement of the balls. "Okay...Left center."
"Good girl." He hums. "Now when you're aiming..."
His hands rest over yours. You can hear him explaining but you weren't listening. All you can think about is his warmth, the smell of the his cologne and his cigar that clung to him, and his erection that he's very obviously grinding against you.
"Now shoot,"
You listened, pulling the cue back and letting Logan's hands lead you. The balls clacked together, rolling around the table. At first you thought the 8-ball wouldn't go in the hole you called, but it clacks against the cue ball once more, giving it the final push for it to slide into the hole. You laughed,
"Amazing." Logan praises lowly. "You'll be beating me before you know it, darling."
He lifts up from you just a bit, allowing you to turn around and face him while leaning against the table. You lift your head up to him, raising your brow when you catch his expression. It's soft, and thoughtful- not the arrogant look you seen him give you all night.
His hand cups your cheek,sliding into your hair and without another word he leans in and kisses you. He's gentle at first, but quickly tends intense. you felt his tongue lick against your lips and you opened them to allow him in.
His hands went down to your thighs, lifting you up onto the table and settling himself between your legs. His kisses slow down and he parts from you, leaving you breathless. When you open your eyes, you notice he's looking around the empty bar.
"Where'd everyone go?" He mutters with a confused smirk.
"Jack gave me the keys to close up when you were in the bathroom." Your arms wrapped around his neck and pulled him closer. "It's just you and me, baby."
He laughs, his hands tugging your hips closer against him. "See what you do to me? Don't notice anything when you're around, I only see you."
langdon telling reader all the cool procedures he got to do at work while she rides him...
"— so I realigned his spine," he laughs breathlessly, shakes hair out of his eyes and squeezes at the fat of your hips while you ride him. "his spine, baby. without neuro."
"that's so hot,” you gasp into his mouth, “you’re so hot.”
“had his head in my hands and then i j-just—snap,” his laugh is more delicious this time, and then it gets cut off by a moan when you squeeze around his cock. “fuck, sweetheart, you feel so fuckin’ good.”
“better than a spine realignment?” you smile n bite his lip while he chuckles.
“i don’t know if I’d go that fa—” the rest of his sentence is muffled by a pillow over his face while you gasp in faux outrage through a fit of giggles :’)
a/n: continuing my smau addiction by soft launching a new potential series. this is just a snap shot because i cant conceptualize plot rn but i wanna write it. genuinely let me know if your interested or have suggestions xoxo
i also dont think i have a good grasp of the characters but ig that just means i need a rewatch.
also reblogs are an authors best friend ok now im done
clicking Mark’s new video and him ending it with “I can finally escape the blood ocean and curl up into Ryan Gosling’s arms” made me put my head into my hands.
it’s a little after two in the morning when langdon gets into bed, careful not to jostle the covers too much. it’s the dip of the mattress that inevitably wakes you, but you’re too sleepy to greet him with words. you instead turn over and bury your face in his neck, and it’s the most relaxed he’s felt all day.
“hi, honey,” sleepiness laces his tone. “sorry i’m late.”
“you’re here now.” your response vibrates against his neck, and he smiles into the darkness of the bedroom when you wrap your arm around him and hold him close to you.
“go back to sleep,” he soothes, a gentle hand on the back of your head. “i’ll make breakfast in the morning.”
you fall asleep to the promise of morning coffee and sweet kisses shared in the sanctuary of your tiny kitchen.
sloppy makeouts w langdon 😵💫 spit everywhere, grabbing n groping at his cock slurring "please"-es into his mouth n whining when he says "not yet baby, hmm ? gotta stretch u out" yeaaaaaaa
⚠︎ — MDNI. 18+. lots of humping, groping, denial, kissing, spit, heavy petting.
Frank Langdon has a perfect mouth— exfoliated lips, a sparse amount of stubble around his chin, and a he always tastes like mint chewing gum or strawberry flavored candies. It’s safe to say you’ve got a fixation on the way his mouth moves, and the pattern in which he slides his tongue across his lips for some extra hydration. You’re shameless about the way you stare, gaze focused on his mouth even during inappropriate times. Regardless of your bad habits, Frank is usually sweet on you about it, and most of the time, he lets you have what you want.
“C’mere. You’re staring again,” Frank pats his thigh, a signal for you to climb on his lap and take what you’re so desperately craving. He doesn’t need to tell you twice before you’re crawling over to him, sliding yourself onto his thighs and looking at his mouth in even closer proximity. His dry fingers, always raw from excessive handwashing, hook under your chin. The gap between you two is closed in a matter of seconds, and his tongue dances across you bottom lip, teeth nipping and pulling at the soft tissue. Drool accumulates at the corner of your mouth, threatening to spill over. It’s something Frank will lightly tease you about later. ‘You’re such a drooler, baby,’ and ‘my pretty girl, you’re drooling at just the thought, huh?’
Makeout sessions with Frank always turn into humping and groping over clothes. In most cases, you’re a whining mess, pawing at his belt buckle for some more, but he’s always hesitant about finishing the job once it’s started. Your legs spread on either side of him, hands filtered throughout his hair, using the locks as a grip while your hips roll against him. His length grows against his jeans, the hard outline of his dick is evident even through his pants. You can nearly make out what the tip looks like, even clothed.
“Please, Frank,” your eyes shut tightly, rolling your hips forward to get some stimulation from him. All you want is his cock tucked deeply inside you, pounding you until you’re a mess beneath him, fluids leaking everywhere. Drool, arousal, cum, whatever it may be. “Please… please,” your pleads are pathetic in between the kisses, and you know Frank is about to deny you when you feel his smile stretching across your lips, a knowing scoff sounding from the back of his throat.
“Not yet, baby. Gotta stretch you out first, remember? You want my fingers, wanna practice taking two this time?”
“No,” you groan against him, “wanna feel your… you know… wanna feel you inside me.”
“You can’t even say the word ‘dick,’ sweetheart. What makes you think you’re ready? Doctor knows best, right?”
i feel that robby is the type to have you all packed for a fam vacation and jack is showing up w a duffle bag and flip flops n absolutely zero worry - 🍓
plz…. robby is frazzled and snippy bc all day he’s been trying to make sure you and frank have everything and are ready to go on time and its like herding kittens… you can’t find your favorite sunglasses, frank took way too long in the shower, robby knows he had bought snacks for the road and neither of you will fess up to having eaten them— “Don’t come crying to me when you’re hungry in two hours! We aren’t stopping except for a bathroom.”
then jack rolls up, duffel bag in hand, flipflops on, all easy grins and laid back energy. he finds Robby scolding you in the driveway as you whine about having to help pack the car: “The last thing I need right now is attitude from you.”
“Thought vacation was supposed to be relaxing, brother.”
“It will be.” Robby mutters, carrying out two bags on each arm. “Once we’re there. Because thanks to me, we won’t have anything to worry about.”
Jack scoffs and shakes his head amusedly, reaching out to take the suitcase you’re struggling to haul into the trunk.
Frank sticks his head out of the front door. “Did you put your fucking bikinis in my suitcase? I’m not taking them!”
“I ran out of room!” You complain. You shoot Robby a pleading look, but he just continues methodically piling things into the car.
“Take it up with the newly appointed complaint department.” He nods towards jack.
“Thanks, man.” Jack drawls, before looking at you with a smile. “Go get your swimsuits, honey. I’ll pack ‘em in mine.”
Lawyer barbie helping langdon with his back pain. Idk massages? Maybe researching what he can apply to his back for pain (even though he's a doctor lol)
lavender & turmeric (lawyer!reader x frank langdon)
series masterlist
Frank winced as he took the small flight of stairs up into the lobby of your apartment building.
His hand slid down to his lower back, rubbing small, feeble circles into the ache lodged there as he waited for the elevator.
His back had been getting progressively worse over the past few weeks. What had started out as a small niggle had slowly spread into a constant, pulsing ache, occasionally sharpened by sudden jolts whenever he bent the wrong way or spent too long on his feet.
Which, unfortunately, was everyday.
He'd been trying to stay on top of his physio exercises, he really had, but work had been so flat out that by the time he dragged himself home after a 15 hour day, the last thing he felt like doing was getting out his roller and spending 15 minutes in agony.
The elevator dinged open.
He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed into one of the tight points near his spine, trying to loosen it as best as he could before he got to your door.
You had been flat out at work too, the last thing he wanted to do was to bring you down by talking about his pain. Or worse, make you worry that he might relapse.
So by the time he reached your apartment, he'd shoved the pain into the same small mental box he shoved everything else into.
He inhaled through his nose and exhaled through his mouth as he knocked on your door.
"It's open!"
Even hearing your voice faintly through the door made him feel better.
The smell hit him immediately when he stepped inside.
Lavender. Eucalyptus. Something warm and herbal drifting through the apartment.
He dumped his overnight bag by the door, brow furrowing when you were no where to be seen.
"Baby?"
"Sorry, I'm here!"
You appeared from the hallway a second later and his exhaustion eased on instinct the second he saw you.
Your pyjama shorts sat low on your hips, swallowed almost entirely by an oversized graphic tee that matched one of his. The lettering across the front read 'we belung together' with a badly drawn set of cartoon lungs underneath.
"Hi." You smiled as you walked towards him.
"Hi." His voice softened automatically as he leaned down to kiss you.
You tasted faintly like peppermint tea.
Frank lingered for a second longer than intended before pulling away slightly.
"Why does it smell like a massage parlour in here?"
Your grin widened immediately.
"Because, tonight this is a massage parlour."
His brows knitted together.
Your smile somehow widened further as you laced your hand through his and tugged him towards your room. He came to a stop at the doorway, brows shooting up as he took in the sight before him.
Towels had been laid neatly across the bed. Candles flickered softly around the room, casting warm golden light across the walls. A line of massage oils sat organised on your dresser beside what looked suspiciously like hot compresses and ice packs. An incense stick curled lazily in the corner.
And on the bedside table sat a steaming mug.
Frank blinked slowly.
"...what is all this?"
"Well....I know your back has been bad lately."
His mouth opened automatically.
"And before you deny it-" You cut in immediately. "-don't. I know you."
Frank shut his mouth again.
"I know this probably isn't going to magically fix anything." You continued as you hurried over to the bedside table, "but I did some googling-"
Frank's mouth twitched.
"-don't be mean." You warned without any bite.
"I'm not saying anything."
"Your face is saying things."
He bit the inside of his cheek as he tried to fight the smile threatening to appear.
You carefully picked up the mug and chaperoned it back over to him.
"Anyway-" You continued determinedly. "-apparently hot and cold therapy can really help muscle inflammation and spasms, and lavender oil is supposed to help with relaxation-"
Frank glanced down at the mug as you handed it over to him.
"-turmeric has anti-inflammatory properties and the corner store near work where I get my peppermint tea also sells turmeric tea so-" You paused as you gestured to the warm cup. "Hopefully it tastes alright."
"....How did you have the time to do all this?" He asked after a moment.
You shrugged half-heartedly. "I made time."
Frank stared at you.
He didn't have the heart to tell you that none of this would probably fix his back.
But that wasn't the point.
Because no one had ever done something like this for him before. Like despite everything he was still something worth taking care of.
You shifted slightly under his gaze.
"I know this is probably all pseudoscience crap and sounds really stupid but-"
"It doesn't." He cut you off gently.
Frank swallowed hard, suddenly feeling something tight lodge in his throat.
"It doesn't sound stupid at all." He continued, quieter now.
Your expression softened instantly.
You watched intently as he lifted the mug up and took a tentative sip.
He nodded, taking another larger gulp. "It's good."
You smiled.
"Come here." You said softly, easing the mug out of his hands once he'd taken a few more sips. You set it down before gently tugging him towards the edge of the bed.
He obeyed without complaint, sitting down heavily with a low groan that made your face pinch with concern.
"Jesus, Frankie."
"I'm fine."
"Mhm." You deadpanned. "Take your shirt off."
His mouth twitched despite himself.
"Yes ma'am."
You rolled your eyes affectionately as he peeled his shirt over his head, but your expression faltered the second you saw the way the muscles along his back spasmed.
"Frank..." Your fingertips ghosted lightly over his shoulders. "You're so tense."
"Occupational hazard." He remarked as he laid down onto his stomach.
You shook your head before reaching for one of the cold compresses you'd prepared. Carefully, you pressed it against his lower back.
He hissed quietly through his teeth.
"Too cold?"
"No." He exhaled slowly as the cold seeped into his muscles. "Actually... shit. That feels good."
A tiny, triumphant smile spread across your face.
"Told you my googling was useful."
Frank let out a quiet laugh.
You worked slowly, methodically - alternating between the cold and warm compress. Then you switched to your hands, rubbing lavender oil into the tight muscles lining his spine. Your touch was gentle at first, exploratory, before growing firmer when you felt how knotted he really was.
Frank's head dropped forward.
He’d intended on protesting, telling you to stop fussing over him, but he couldn’t bring himself to utter the words.
He hadn't realised how bad it had gotten until now. How much tension he'd been carrying around without noticing.
Your thumbs pressed into a particularly tight spot near his lower back and he groaned quietly as you loosened the knot.
"Marry me."
You snorted. "I think that might be the least romantic proposal anyone's ever received."
"I'm serious." His voice came out muffled by the pillow he'd buried his head into. "You can have literally everything I own."
"So.... scrubs and take-out containers?"
"Hey don't forget the crippling emotional baggage."
"Oh I’ve already got that for free."
A laugh escaped him then - real and warm and helpless.
Your hands slowed slightly at the sound, your expression softening.
"I've missed that."
The quiet honesty in your voice hit him harder than expected.
Because lately he'd been exhausted. Distracted. Coming home with barely enough energy to hold a conversation before passing out beside you.
But you still did all of this for him. Still supported him no matter what.
Frank reached back blindly until his fingers found your wrist.
"I love you." He said simply.
Your chest tightened.
"I love you too."
You brushed your fingers through his hair. "Feel any better?"
Frank exhaled slowly as you slid off him so he could twist onto his back.
"Honestly?" He said as he laid back to look at you properly. "Yeah."
And he meant it.
The ache was still there, dull beneath the surface, but it wasn't consuming him anymore. For the first time in weeks, he felt relaxed.
"Really?"
Your hopeful smile made his heart stop.
Frank tugged you closer, your legs straddling his waist once more. "Really." He murmured.
Then he tilted his head up and kissed you, slow and lazy, grateful.
Your fingers slid into his hair instinctively as you kissed him back, smiling against his mouth when he made a soft content noise.
"See?" You said smugly against his lips. "Who needs a medical degree when you have google?"
He huffed out a laugh.
"Right, I might tell your clients the same thing about your law degree.”
You shoved his shoulder lightly and he laughed again - softer this time.
The kind of laugh reserved only for you.
"Ok." Frank leant over to grab the massage oil. "Now it's my turn to repay the favour."
Something in his expression and the glint in his eye made your brow arch skeptically.
"Uh huh."
"What?"
"You just want an excuse to grope my ass."
Frank placed a hand dramatically over his heart as he let out a fake gasp. "How dare you. As a doctor, I care deeply about your muscle recovery. I know how tight your shoulders get. "
You hummed disbelieving, leaning down to kiss him again.
"Although." He mumbled against your lips. "Seeing you all oiled up is a perk."
You laughed softly before pulling back just enough to dramatically cross your arms over your chest and narrow your eyes at him.
"I'm not undoing all my hard work by having sex with you and immediately throwing your back out again."
Frank grinned lazily up at you as his thumbs drew circles on your hips.
"If you want me to be a pillow princess tonight, just say the word baby."
You let out a dramatic groan.
"I seriously regret teaching you that term."
His smile widened as you failed to stay serious and giggled.
He tugged you down onto the bed beside him. You landed half on top of him with another laugh before immediately trying to shift off him carefully.
"Don't move too fast-"
"I'm fine." He wrapped an arm around your waist before you could pull away completely. "Besides, lying here with you actually counts as medical treatment."
"Oh yeah?"
"Definitely." He pressed a kiss against your temple. "Benefits include reduced stress levels. Improved mood. Lower blood pressure."
You snorted.
"You're an idiot.”
"Maybe." He smiled against your skin. “You still love me though."
Your heart swelled at that.
"Always."
Frank looked at you for a second like he still couldn't quite believe that.
Then he kissed you again - softer this time, slower.
The candles flickered around the room while your fingers drifted through his hair, and for the first time in weeks, Frank let himself relax completely.
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