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Dr. Frank Langdon has two secrets, although the first secret certainly has sub-sections.
Secret one.
He wasn’t on medical leave or at some administrative level following him being extremely rude to Santos, like the others suspect. He was in rehab. And now he gets pulled to the side not to get consults but for random urine testing. And he’s stopped going out for drinks, not because he’s more aware of his liver but because it happens to fall on his N.A. meetings.
Secret two.
He’s been divorced for a while now. Long before his issue with drugs had come to light and he was sent to rehab. It’s been, officially, three months, but it’s been a year and three months. Pittsburgh has a mandatory one-year separation law, and he spent that year trying to win his wife back. But… it clearly didn’t work. He sees his kids every other weekend, the judge said he should consider himself lucky. Between his hectic hours and the recorded drug abuse, he was going to lose his rights altogether.
But he’s clean now. He’s been clean since the day after PittFest. Each of his random tests comes back negative. He doesn’t even take Tylenol or ibuprofen anymore.
Okay, he lied a bit back there.
It’s not two secrets, it’s three.
Secret three.
He’s bisexual. And he has a crush on his fellow resident— although that resident has finished his final year while Frank was in rehab and is now in a flexible fellowship. Two days in the OR followed by two days in the Pitt. That is totally not the point.
“Hey, Don,” You call, slapping his shoulder on your way to the locker room. He flinches, his jaw tightening at the sudden contact before he relaxes. It’s just you. Just the man he had been thinking about. “Missed me?”
“Like I miss high school,” He gives a sarcastic smile, and you huff a laugh, pushing into the locker room. His eyes shift to the floor, there are two patients so far— one is waiting to have their tox screens, and another is being treated for a 30/70 burn. Neither of which he wants to handle. “McKay, any new patients?” Langdon asks, holding onto the counter and stretching, his head down to ease the tension in his body.
“Not yet,” She shakes her head, pulling her lips into her mouth. She grabs the clipboard and flips through it. “About to call in Emily Cotton, bitten by her chihuahua. Want that?” Something good, that’s all he wants.
“No, give it to Mohan.”
“Alright.”
“I think Dr. Langdon has it,” Robby steps into his line of view, arms crossed. He doesn’t look at Langdon, his eyes only on McKay. “Don’t you, Langdon?”
“Yes,” He grits, ever so slightly shaking his head. “Yup, send her to me. I’ll be in 5,” McKay looks between the two of them but nods, sending Mateo to call Ms. Cotton into the ED. You’re leaving the locker room as Langdon walks by, rubbing the back of his neck with both hands, and his ears are a little red.
“You alright?” You whisper, changing directions and following him into the room.
“I’m fine,” He lies, lips pressed into a thin line. “Can you turn the light all the way on?” Someone had dimmed them earlier, something about a patient seeing white spots in their vision. Not exactly great for inspecting small dog-inflicted wounds.
“Yup,” Stepping back, you flick the lights on and look Langdon over. He's upset, he usually is when Robby assigns him a case. They are always cases that Robby hates, boring— mundane cases that come and go a million times a day in the ED. “Anything else?”
“Uh, no.” He shakes his head as he turns to you. “Unless you want to take over?” Crossing your arms, you rock back and forth before shaking your head.
“My favorite resident could use the experience,” You tease.
“Excuse me?” He laughs, standing up from the small rolling stool. He crosses the room over to you, and you raise your eyebrows. “We were residents together.”
“That’s how the cookie crumbles,” You drag out. “God, that was corny.” Pinching your nose, you close your eyes and try to take back the past five seconds.
“It was,” He agrees through a small laugh. “Your age is showing, Chip.” He whispers, trying desperately not to let his eyes wander. To not falter and give in to the urge to be closer to you. Closer than normal for a pair of colleagues— friends.
“We’re the same age,” The door opens, and the professionalism slips onto the two of you.
“Emily Cotton?” Langdon asks, and she nods, looking back at Whitaker, who’d walked to the room. “Have a seat, please. I’m Doctor Langdon, and I’ll be your doctor today.” Nodding, you leave the room without a word, softly closing the door behind you.
“Anything for me?” You ask Dana, ever thankful that she hadn’t actually quit. She did take a needed vacation, though. It cleared her head and allowed her the space to reflect on the job.
“We just got a call; a teenage girl accidentally shot herself in the stomach. They’re about two minutes out.” She relays, and you have to stop yourself from showing if you are excited or annoyed.
“Alright, I’ll need Dr. King, Collins, Perlah, and Silva.”
“Wait, no!” Langdon calls, his head peering out of the room. “King is mine.” His eyes dart between you and his favorite resident.
“Too bad, Don,” You call. “Take your twin, Santos.” Santos looks up from her current patient, someone who’s about to leave. Meanwhile, Langdon drops his head, his free fist balling for a second. He reaches out to you, but you ignore him.
“Ha-ha, gimmie King,” With two fingers, he motions for Mel to head to him. She looks between the two of you, and you give her an apologetic look.
“Don, Donnie, Ding-dong— you can go one hour without Mel. Scrub in, Dr. King. You can go back to Dr. Langdon after this surgery.” Pointing to the operating room, she gives four strong nods and rushes past with her head down.
“You’re cruel,” He says before you can walk by. “ Santos,” He whispers, looking at her over your shoulder. She quickly looks away before they can make eye contact.
“You guys are the same person, just she’s younger and a woman.” You whisper back, your head close to his ear. “And it’s for like five minutes. You got this,”
If Langdon is allowed to be honest, he didn’t hear a single word you’d said. He just blindly nods, watching as you pull away from him to help get the room prepped. He takes one last look out, watching as the girl is wheeled into the ED before he resigns himself to his task.
“Dr. Santos, come on!”
—
For reasons you will not divulge to anyone other than people you do not work with, Santos is your unofficial mentee. Robby has Mohan and Whitaker, Langdon has Mel, McKay has Javadi, and so on. It’s just how things had naturally clicked into place after the first couple of days of them working at PTMC.
There’s usually some teachable moment with the manatees to their mentors. Whitaker allows Robby to relax, Mel shows Langdon his way isn’t always the right way- that he can be wrong, and Santos helps you in other ways.
“He did mention you,” She spills as soon as the two of you enter a room. You’re waiting on a patient, not using an empty room to gossip. That would be ridiculous and unprofessional. “Three times.”
“Was it good?” You squint. “Was it about me taking Mel?”
“Once,” She nods. “The first time. The second time he said you should've called him into the OR, and the third time he asked me about my opinion of you.”
“And what did you say?” You squint harder, leaning back on the wall. She shrugs, putting her hands into her pockets.
“You’re cool, you buy me lunch sometimes— I didn’t mention that you use me to get information on him when you’re gone.” The door opens, and Princess hands you the new patient's chart. The conversation is effectively over as you introduce yourself and Santos to the patient with…
“And how did you put a tube of Christmas ornaments up your rectum?” You ask, and Santos makes a face behind his back. The man grumbles as he tries to find a comfortable position, refusing to take a seat.
“I fell on it,” He answers quite stiffly. “My wife wanted me to take them down, and when I was climbing down the attic ladder, I slipped.” Raising your eyebrow, he looks away and down at the bedsheet. It’s going to be one of those, then.
“Alright, Mr. Franco. I’m going to ask you to take your bottoms off and then put your feet into the holders while we step out. Okay? The blanket is for your privacy.” He grunts a nod and you close the curtain as Santos wastes no time walking out of the room.
“How did he look when he mentioned me?” You whisper, your back pressed to the door, while she has to mentally prepare herself for her first object removal.
“He looked how he normally does, I guess,” She shrugs. “Do we need a local anesthetic?”
“Maybe,” Scratching your forehead, you think about what you’re going to need. You’ve done enough removals during your time as a doctor that you’re basically a pro at this. She lists the items and goes to retrieve them while you work on finding Langdon for a quick moment.
“Wanna switch?” You ask, holding him by the crook of his elbow. He looks at you, eyebrows raised. “I take your child with a broken ankle, and you take my rectum removal.” The offer is horrible, you know that and, more importantly, he knows that.
“You’re funny,” He laughs. “Good luck, Chip.” He pats your shoulder and enters his room. Groaning, you go back to your room and knock on the door.
—
You need him. You need him carnally. You need him biblically. You need him in ways that are sacrilegious. You need to jump Frank Langdon’s bones.
Splashing your face with water, you try to compose yourself. You just finished up another emergency surgery— a woman fell from her fifth-story window, her femur was completely out of the skin, her elbow was twisted in gnarly ways, the works. It was the usual crew in the operating room, plus you and Langdon.
It was technically his; he had called dibs on surgery while you were finishing up with the ornaments guy, and he asked you to join. He just had this look on this stupid face, and you couldn’t say no. Not that you ever could to him.
But— and HIPAA forgive you— but the way he looked, stitching that woman back up was… something. You won’t say what, in fear of coming off as too crass. But it was life-changing. Pants were changed and not just because they got blood on them.
“You okay?” The man of the hour asks, pushing into the bathroom.
“Yeah,” You breathe out, having drowned yourself for a little there. “Totally, ‘m fine.” He’s not totally convinced, every doctor in the Pitt knows that when there’s water splashed on a face, something is definitely not fine.
“Are you sure?” He asks, looking you up and down. He licks his lips, just a little so that his tongue pokes out from between them as his eyes trail up your body.
“Just a little in my head,” His eyes land on your face by the time you look at him.
“King has these grounding exercises,” He starts and you smile, looking down at the wet sink.
“I know, we go over them together sometimes.” He stops, making an oh face.
“So, you and Dr. King are…close?” He asks, rocking back and forth on his feet. “You talk often?” Shaking your head as you grab some tissue, you press your back against the marble countertop.
“We talk in passing, usually when we need a break. We both decompress on the same staircase, funnily enough.” There’s a small laugh in your tone and Langdon nods.
“Yeah, she-she mentioned you that a couple of times.” Before you could respond, there were two sharp bangs on the door. Robby.
“Langdon, your patient is coding. (L/n) your patient's parents are here.” He huffs and leaves in a hurry while you make the short walk to room 13 longer than it needed to be. The parents are completely disagreeing with the treatment of their daughter. The mother is for the treatment, while the father thinks the vaccines and medications are going to lead to autism or gayness in the future.
“Fucking Qanon’s man,” You grumble before plastering a pleasant look on your face as you enter the room.
—
“Oh, I get it,” Abbott whispers as he, Dana, and Robby lean against the workstations. They have a clear view of two of the on-call rooms. One with Langdon and King, and the other with you and Santos.
“Get what?” Robby looks up, his glasses on the bridge of his nose. He follows Abbott's line of view and rolls his eyes. “Oh, those four. Yeah,”
“Surprised it took you this long,” Dana snickers, flipping through some paperwork. “Like father, like daughter,” She looks up, catching how you and Mel both make the same head motion as the patient says something undoubtedly stupid. And then, at the same time, Langdon and Santos look away to give an exasperated look.
“It’s freaky,” Abbott leans forward, his chin on his fist. “Do they know?”
“Not a damn clue,” Robby responds. They watch for a little while, and there’s one breakthrough with each of your patients. You and Langdon nod and leave the room. You and Mel walk out first, fixing your glasses out of stress rather than necessity, and then Langdon and Santos walk out, both of them slapping the top of the doorframe.
“Freaky as fuck,” Abbott has to hold back a laugh. “Oh my god, like father, like daughter.” He agrees.
“I’m telling ya,” Robby shakes his head, waving at the four of you as you walk by. “They didn’t even do it on purpose.” He adds in a hushed tone.
“It’s like they don’t know it’s legal yet,” Mohan comments as she walks up behind the group. They turn to her, and she holds her hands up before walking away.
Langdon parks himself at a separate workstation, watching as you do the same with Santos across the floor.
“They’re doing this on purpose,” Abbott shakes his head. “There’s no way.”
“Switch to the morning shift,” Robby offers. “You’ll see,”
“It’s entertaining,” Dana agrees before she smirks. “Want in on the betting pool?”
“There’s a betting pool?” His eyes seem to sparkle with glee and mischief at the idea.
“I already lost,” Robby leans back in his seat, running his hands down his face. “I gave them six months. It’s been two and a half years.”
“I predicted a drunk confession,” Dana frowns. That can’t happen anymore, considering Langdon can’t touch any drug or alcohol until he’s off his probation.
“I think King is going to tell (Y/n) or Santos is going to slip up and tell Langdon.”
“That’s already a bet, believe it or not,” Abbott claps his hands together as if that was proving his point.
“Alright, guys, I’m off! See you!” You call, and their head snaps to the locker room entrance. As you’re walking out, you’re relief is right behind you, ready to start their shift.
“Right, night shift time,” Langdon mutters, pushing off from the workstation. “Wait for me?” He’s not begging— he doesn’t beg, but he is gently asking as another relief enters the ED.
“Sure,” You nod, messing with the straps of your bag. He thanks you and rushes to gather his stuff as Abbott quietly sighs. There goes his entertainment for the night. He wonders if he could get access to the parking lot cameras.
“Okay,” You inhale the cold air as the two of you head towards the employee parking lot. “Don’t laugh—“
“I won’t,” He promises without hesitation.
“One of my patients made a joke that I didn’t understand. It was something like; Doctors always have band-aids. They’re wonderful.” He’s heard that one a handful of times and shakes his head, glancing up at the sky.
“ Wound- erfurl,” He corrects with a small smile while you squint.
“Oh,” You groan as it clicks. “ Wound. Fuck, I should’ve gotten that.” For a moment, just a singular moment, Langdon watches as you hide your smile behind your hand. You look almost annoyed with yourself, but you’re mostly embarrassed that you hadn’t gotten the joke. And had this been anyone else (save Mel, Robby, Abbott, Dana, or Gloria) he would’ve made fun of them in some way.
“It’s a hard one,” He agrees through a simple shrug.
—
“What do you see in him?” Santos asks as she hangs onto her stethoscope, watching as Langdon gets blood sprayed on his face. Rogue vein, apparently.
“He’s pretty,” You grin. She scoffs and looks away, turning towards the TV, hoping there would be a case soon enough. There are a million people waiting, so why doesn’t she have a patient already?
“You’re not supposed to be down here,” Robby notes as he walks past you. He’s checking someone’s chart and he hasn’t looked up once, how he knew you were there is beyond yourself.
“I’m on my lunch break,” You reply, holding up the empty apple juice carton as proof. Although he’s still not looking at you and you’re not looking at him. You’re watching as Langdon leaves the on-call room, his face has a clear expression of disgust on it.
“I’ll get some new scrubs,” The offer makes his shoulders relax, and he looks at you, his expression softening.
“Thank you,” While he heads to the bathroom, you head to the scrub exchange before remembering. Exchange. Walking into the bathroom, Langdon looks up from the sink, bloody water dripping from his face.
“I need your old scrubs first,” You tell him and he grunts, he’d also forgotten that small detail.
“Fuck, right, yeah.” He nods and scrubs his hands before grabbing the collar of his scrubs. He pulls it off in one motion, the grey short-sleeved shirt rising a little with the motion. Against your better judgment and perhaps morals, your eyes can’t help but wander to the exposed skin. Feeling like a Victorian child because you’ve never seen Langdon showing that much skin.
‘That’ being below the naval, but above the V line. Barely three inches of skin and it’s like your brain shuts off. He neatly folds the blood-stained shirt and then looks at you, his thumbs under his waistbands.
“You don’t mind?” He asks, to which you shake your head.
“We’re doctors,” You mutter as he lowers his pants. “I’ve seen worse than a man in his boxers.” You continue.
“Worse!” He shouts a laugh. “I-I like to think I look good in them, thank you very much.” He kicks the scrubs off and you look at him through the mirror. He’s looking at you already and you remember he’d been talking.
“You do,” You reach to take the folded scrubs. “Your wife sure is lucky.” Cringing, you head out of the bathroom and to the scrub exchange. You know his employee ID and he knows yours, the two of you have worked nearly every patient together and run to get the others scrubs over a hundred times before.
“You look strange,” Santos squints as you type in his PIN. Huffing, you shake your head before looking at her.
“I don’t want to even think about it, Santos. Do you have any patients waiting?”
“Uh, yes. Room nine. Twenty-one year twenty-one-year-old man with signs of testicular t. He also has mild asthma, and the caregiver is adamant that the man is faking.” Blinking, you nod and start your way back to the bathroom.
“Alright, good luck with that one.. Start working on him, get McKay if you need an extra pair of eyes while you wait.” She nods and heads to the on-call room.
“I’m back!” You call, pushing the bathroom door open with your shoulder.
“I’m divorced.” Langdon says as soon as you do. You blink, handing him the fresh pair of scrubs.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” God, you have horrible timing today.
“Don’t be,” He shakes his head before scratching his eyebrow. “I didn’t mean to blurt that out and thanks, for the scrubs.”
“Anytime. Do you need anything else?” Checking your watch you have five minutes left on your break.
“No, nope. I’m good.” You start to turn around when he calls your name. Pausing, you look at him and he presses his closed fist to his mouth. “Do you have plans after this?” He strains out and you smile, shaking your head.
“I’m free unless I get called into an emergency surgery. I'm not reading this wrong, right?” You trail off, looking between his eyes.
“Oh, I’m asking you on a date,” He nods and you promptly nod back.
“Dr. Langdon, your patient is requesting an enema!” Whitaker says as he peers into the bathroom. “Oh, am I interrupting something?”
“Scrub contamination,” You shake your head, slowly looking at Whitaker. “Good luck with your enema, Frank.”