Work Text:
Running Chairs is Doctor Frank Langdon's least favourite task in the ER, hands down. Anything cool has to be passed through the double doors. There's endless abuse to be had from grumpy long haulers, and then more yelling from Robby when he eventually snaps back at them. Which he basically always does. Chairs reminds him of the harried office staff at his elementary school who handed out band aids and maybe paracetamol (if you were lucky! Frank remembers one time he waited with a broken arm for two hours with zero pain relief until his mom arrived to pick him up. His therapist calls it a 'formative memory' for him) to ungrateful kids. It's a miserable place to be. Usually. Today though, marks two weeks since Doctor Frank Langdon was allowed back into the Pitt following an almost year long sabbatical to work through his painkiller addiction. It's his eighth shift back and it's his eighth running Chairs in the first half, and he is grateful for all eight of them. Even if he would rather be where the real action is. He gets it.
Langdon's day starts with a wound check for a cut on the leg that's healing nicely. He hands out ibuprofen to a few people who have been waiting too long already. The losing side of a fight over a seat on the T gets an ice pack once Langdon confirms all his teeth survived the punch he took to the jaw. In a brief moment of something like excitement he gets to diagnose an appendicitis case before the kid gets swooped up to surgery. He tries to maintain a good attitude as he goes back to the drudgery of band aids. In fact he's so focused on looking at the bright side that he walks right past a familiar face without pause. His subconscious screams at him until he turns back, brow furrowed.
"What the hell are you doing here?" He demands, surprise coming across kind of like anger.
You hold your hand up sheepishly. Langdon grabs it with both of his, grip gentle but steady. Sticking out of the fleshiest part of your palm is a long shard of glass. Flipping your hand, he can see there's no exit wound, a good sign. The wound oozes blood slowly around the foreign body. You clutch a wad of bloody tissue in your other hand which you use to wipe off some excess before it can drip down your wrist.
His piercing gaze meets yours and you get the sense he's holding something back. A laugh, a lecture, a sigh.
"Come through." He says, one hand moving to your forearm to escort you and the other reaching out for your bag before you can grab it.
As he pulls you through the waiting room and to the double doors, you see a few people staring, either confused or annoyed, but Langdon doesn't seem to notice. Or maybe he doesn't care. You're ushered into a treatment room and you wait obediently on the bed while he whirls around collecting stuff.
"So what happened?" He asks finally, settling onto a stool in front of you and taking your hand in his again.
"I wanted juice with breakfast but the universe said no." You laugh at yourself and honestly you also laugh a little bit at his motherly tsk of disapproval. Such a worrier.
"I'm going to inject with some numbing solution, tiny prick where it goes in, okay?"
"Where have I heard that before?" You tease. Not your best work to be fair, but Langdon is glad you're in good spirits. Playing along, he plasters on an unimpressed look and shakes his head theatrically.
Despite the brave facade, your face crumples for a second as the needle goes in and he rubs a thumb soothingly across your wrist. A tiny gesture, but it calms you. By the time he disposes of the sharps the medicine seems to be taking effect, dulling the pain.
Once it doesn't hurt so much, it's kind of fun to see him in his element as he swings back to inspect the glass shard. He's laser focused, every movement clinical and measured. Watching his face keeps you distracted from the grossness of your bloody hand. It doesn't stop you from thinking about the other patients and feeling bad though.
"I don't need special treatment you know. I was fine waiting."
"Are you kidding me?" He doesn't look up but he makes a face of disgust at the suggestion. "You shouldn't have waited at all, why didn't you ask for me?"
"What did you want me to do! Go all 'don't you know who I am' Karen routine on the poor nurse?"
"No! Just name drop me. I'm kind of a big deal around here don't you know?" This time he does look up, giving you a shining white smile that has you flustered. Numbing solution who? Doctor Langdon's smile is perfectly capable of taking all your pain away.
Distracted, you miss your window for a retort and an edge of smugness creeps into the smile before he returns his attention to your hand.
"Feeling okay? Deep breath, here comes the glass."
Your eyes squeeze shut of their own accord in anticipation but when you can't even feel a tug, you peek down at your hand. The glass is no longer sticking out of it. Langdon drops the shard into a metal bowl with a small tink sound. He peers intently at your hand which is bleeding with more enthusiasm now and dabs at it with gauze until he can see again. Gently he prods at it and frowns. Not a good sign.
"What is it? Am I dying?"
"You're not dying." You get a eye roll which privately you think is a little unprofessional, though you won't say so. "There's more glass in there though. I'm going to call in a surgeon okay? Give me just a second."
Trust you to need a surgeon for a little cut. Who knew orange juice could be this dangerous?
Doctor Langdon steps out of the room for like waaaaay longer than a second before returning. He has a small bottle of juice in his hand which he gallantly uncaps for you and passes to your good hand.
"Plastic drinkware only for you from here on out." He teases. "Clearly can't trust you with the good stuff."
You pout at him dramatically before taking a long drink. Without you having to ask, he takes the bottle back from you when you're done and recaps it for later. "You're so mean to me. Can I make a complaint about the service in this place?"
A few more minutes pass as you banter back and forth and then the door opens and another doctor sweeps in. She's tall and beautiful, with dark curly hair tied back in a bun, and she shoots a smirk at Langdon as she enters.
"Fear not, the grown ups are here." He's already scowling by the time her gaze lands on you and an eyebrow quirks up as she takes in your fairly small wound. "Wait, this is your urgent surgical consult?"
"Hello to you, she-devil." He snipes back, vacating his stool so she can take it. "Glass shards, I think a piece shattered in the hand."
The new doctor sits in front of you and takes your hand in hers, offering you a half second smile before she looks at your hand, analyzing the cut. "Hi. I'm Doctor Garcia, I'm a surgeon here."
"Can you treat her in here or does she need to go up?" Cuts in Langdon, impatiently.
"I could treat her in my sleep, Hollywood. Even a trained chimp like you could treat her." She glances up at you with another half second smile. "No offense. What was your name?"
She nods as you tell her and gestures at Langdon without looking around. "Look sharp Colgate, you're assisting. Scalpel, forceps, pronto."
The second she asks, Langdon glides around the room picking up bits and pieces and presents them to her on a tray. They move impressively in sync considering the verbal hostility on show here. Clearly they know each other well.
Doctor Garcia picks up the scalpel and you look away quickly before she can get it anywhere near your hand. Your breath stutters to a halt unbidden, freaked out despite knowing the shot you had earlier should keep you from feeling a thing. For a terrible moment you think you might cry, which would be deeply embarrassing right now, but suddenly Langdon is in front of you, squarely in your field of view with a beautiful and reassuring smile. It reminds you that you're in good hands and more importantly it reminds you to breathe. He nods gently, approvingly, as you take a deep lungful of air and blow it out slowly.
"Tell me." Says Garcia, possibly to distract you, possibly because this is apparently such an easy procedure for her that she can work and chat at the same time. "Why are you getting the VIP treatment today?"
You hesitate, unsure what Langdon might want said to his coworker, but he doesn't waste a second thinking.
"She's my girlfriend." He grins at the announcement like a man on top of the world and you can't help but melt a little.
"No shit? This is Barbie?"
As you watch, Langdon's eyes roll so hard he should be dizzy. Somehow sensing this, Garcia snickers, hands not faltering even a bit. You try to look down at her and snap your gaze away again as you catch a glimpse of forceps digging into your palm.
"Sorry, why Barbie?" You ask, giving your boyfriend a suspicious look.
"Doctor Langdon here is our resident ER Ken doll. Everyone knows Ken is nothing without Barbie."
Langdon frowns though you actually think this could count as a compliment? Maybe just on your side. You can't help but giggle and he mimes a heart breaking at this grievous betrayal.
"Seriously though," continues Garcia "you didn't want to treat your own girlfriend? That's cold. Even for you."
Rather than lob an insult back, Langdon looks down at his feet. One might call his expression embarrassment if you didn't know him. He mumbles an answer too quietly to be heard.
"What's that? Once more at a volume humans can hear?"
He takes a deep breath and spews the words out almost in a jumble. "She deserves the best and for surgical removal that's you."
Dropping a final piece of glass in the bowl, Garcia finally looks up at him with a shit eating grin. "Why Langdon. I'm touched."
"Tell anyone I said that and I'll kill you." He threatens.
Before it can get too aggressive in here you interject. "I'm touched too, if that matters."
"Yeah touched in the head if you're dating him." She laughs and in a weird sort of way you're kind of flattered to be included in her bullying. It feels like approval. Garcia peels off her gloves as she rises from the stool and fixes Langdon with a look. "Can you manage stitches Ken, or should I do that too?"
Securely back on comfortable combative footing, Langdon waves her off with a scowl that you balance out with a sweet smile.
"Thank you! Nice to meet you!"
Waving without turning around, Doctor Garcia exits the room. You lean back on your good hand as Langdon grabs a suture kit, smiling at this little peek into his work life. It's good to know he has friends who will treat him normally after his little break. Sure would have been nice to meet Garcia under better (less stupid) circumstances though.
"Ready baby?" Langdon asks, needle at the ready. "You're doing so good."
"Thanks. I think having glass picked out of my hand might be my calling in life." You trail off with a grimace as you have to look away again. How your boyfriend looks at this and worse all day every day is a mystery.
"You make it look easy."
Of course Langdon is the one who makes it look easy, which you would know if you could watch his work without feeling queasy. The stitches seem to be done in a blink of the eye at least and soon enough he's tying off the thread with a flourish. He presses a kiss to your forehead as he stands, slightly bloody hands held safely away from you and your clothing.
"All done sweetheart." He announces.
Three neat little stitches grace your palm when you look down at it. Once more, Langdon whirls around the room disposing of things and pulling out gauze. Aftercare instructions get rattled off, seemingly automatically.
"I'm going to wrap it for you now and I'll be at your place after my shift to check up and re-cover it. Try not to get it wet, and don't do any heavy lifting or anything with that hand."
"Should I wrap myself in cotton wool too?" You ask, smirking. Frank sticks his tongue out at you.
"The numbing solution should wear off in about two hours, so make sure you take pain relief half an hour before that, yeah?"
"Yes Doctor Langdon." You sing-song in a mockery of obedience.
"Good. And no more smashing cups."
It's possible that's something you can't promise. Also, if you're going to be treated like a child... "Do I get a lollipop for being so brave?"
"No but you do get personal service from PTMC's best senior resident."
"Yeah?" You finally push yourself up from the bed and approach your boyfriend coyly. "Who's that then?"
Frank pulls a silly little Vogue pose, framing his face and smiling winningly, sending you into a fit of giggles. As you lean in to rest against his chest, he opens his arms automatically and loops then around you.
"Thank you for looking after me." You mumble into his scrubs.
"Always. Just try not to land yourself in my ER again, okay baby? My heart can't take it."
He kisses you deeply, in a way that's probably inappropriate for the workplace, before finally pulling back with a sigh and announcing he needs to get back out there. He makes you promise again that you'll take it easy until he can come see you as he leads you back out to Chairs and the way out.
Despite the number of patients swelling hugely while you were back there, Langdon doesn't take his eyes off you as you make your way to the exit. It's worth it when you turn back to smile and wave to him in the doorway. He's counting down the minutes until his shift is over and he can go over to yours.
Later in the week, Gloria mentions that he was named in an absolutely glowing patient satisfaction review and tells him to keep up the good work. Dana calls him a kiss ass. He's so back.