#abbotlangdon

Langdon had psyched himself up and tried so hard to be better for Robby while he was gone. Over those ten months, all he could think about was getting back to his pack alpha, to show him he was still his guy. But Robby had rejected him in an unmistakable way, in such clear words, there was nothing he could misinterpret.

Robby had left on his sabbatical the next day, and Langdon felt like his skin was about to burn off just at the thought of going back into that ER after the shitshow of his first shift back. He tried to make amends, but tensions were still high between him and many others.

It was Shen who suggested it during hand off one morning. Raising the idea of Langdon switching to the night shift, encouraged him to talk to Abbot about it.

Abbot had been on board instantly, shifting things around immediately to get Frank on the night shift as soon as possible. Jack had a playful air around him after that, excited to spend more time with the omega.

At first Langdon thought it was just sleep deprivation of changing schedule so drastically that was causing his tiredness and body aches. He wanted to believe it was just that.

It became clear that it wasn't just the new schedule, when the symptoms became worse and worse over the following weeks. He was smart, he was a doctor, he could tell the signs of rejection sickness from a mile away. But he was also stubborn at times. And the last thing he wanted to admit was that he had wanted Robby to be more than just his pack alpha.

He'd missed his shift. He hadn't even heard his phone ringing endlessly as Abbot, Shen, Lena and even Garcia tried to get in contact with him. He'd been buried in his shitty bare nest in his rundown apartment he was hardly affording, sweating like crazy, curled in on himself, whining for someone to take the pain away.

He thought he was hallucinating, really, when suddenly Abbot was crouched by his bedside, frowning and taking his temperature. Jack's hands were so cool against his skin and the damp kitchen towel was even more refreshing. And god he smelled good...

Jack had picked the lock, Langdon would learn later, a party trick from his time in the army, made efficient with those damn impressive hands of his.

The next time he awoke, there was a hoodie in his hands, his nose buried in the fabric, and a warm body settling in behind him. Those impressive hands had just found their place around Langdon's waist before the omega was twisting and turning, hands still clamped in the hoodie fabric, trying to get to the source of the scent.

Langdon had slept the best he had in ages. The presence of an alpha who wanted him, who broke and entered to get to him, who was here holding him when no one else was, it soothed him.

Frank kept his nose buried in Jack's neck, whining as the pain in his abdomen flared again, ebbing once Jack's hands ran soothing circuits up and down the omega's flank and back. Cooing something to him that Langdon wasn't quite hearing, he was trying and failing not to cry from the overwhelm of it all. Jack's lips would occasionally brush against his hairline or the tip of his ear or the crown of his head and Frank didn't have it in him to think about how it made his heart flutter.

His fever broke the next day. Jack got fluids and food into him, helped him shower, and reassessed him, tentatively confirming his rejection sickness symptoms seemed to already be in remission.

Frank was... shy. To say the least. About everything that had happened between them. The closeness and intimacy, let alone the fact that an alpha was helping an omega through a bout of rejection sickness that was caused by a different alpha. It was unorthodox, typically just treated by addressing the issue with the alpha in question or seeking medical assistance. Frank couldn't help but think about the implications of Jack's actions.

Jack had stayed, called out of work frank had discovered when he had heard jack on the phone to Dana. He'd stayed and taken care of him. Something ached in Langdon's chest.

An order of nesting materials had arrived at Langdon's door, overnight shipping apparently, Jack hadn't liked the barren state of Frank's nest and opted to take it upon himself to provide. Like an alpha would, Frank couldn't help but think.

Abbot had given him space to meticulously organise his nest with the new materials, but Frank had quickly felt the unease at the distance and immediately call the older man into bed with him to lay down and test it out. Jack had praised Frank a lot about how well structured and organised the nest was, Frank couldn't help but preen under the praise.

They'd slept there together that night as well, this time with no fever to act as their excuse. Langdon may be taller than Jack, but he enjoyed how easily Jack's bulky frame protected his back, made him feel safe and shielded. He slept even better that night.

Leaving it here for now, give me your thoughts i might write more <3 askbox open!

Frank stares at him. Clearly not a joking matter, then. Understood. He'll pivot.

So, Jack just nods. "Sure. We can get you that."

"Cool," Frank says.

His arms are crossed over his chest. He's about Jack's height, but tonight he looks shorter, smaller. Hunched in on himself. He looks cold, too—he's shivering against the chill of the hospital. If Jack were wearing a jacket, he'd feel oddly compelled to peel it off and give it to Frank. He isn't, though.

"I uh," Frank says. He trails off. Looks away. His skin looks kind of sallow, sweaty.

Jack knows all about Frank's history. Robby has told him all of it, in depth, at length. Multiple times, backwards and forwards. Jack has his own opinions about all of it, Frank and addiction more generally, not that Robby particularly cares about what Jack has to say on the matter. But seeing Frank here, shivering and clearly out of sorts and asking for a drug test, it's not a good sign.

"What do you need?" Jack prompts.

He watches the bob of Frank's throat as he swallows. Frank looks at the dark screen of the patient vital signs monitor. Jack imagines the beat of his heart there: steady, but rapidfire.

"A prescription for PEP. And an STD test in a week," Frank says, like he's reciting a patient chart. "Maybe two or three."

Something in Jack's chest twists and goes sour. Ah.

"OK." Jack shifts on his feet. "We can get you those, too. What about a SANE exam?"

Dana's not on shift, but a couple of Jack's night shift nurses are SANE-certified. Frank might not know them as well, but they're good. Solid.

"No," Frank says, lightning quick. Like he's thought about it. He probably has. "No. I'm OK."

Jack nods. He'd expected as much, but asking reduces the barrier to entry. "All good. Whatever you need."

Frank laughs. A sharp bark of a sound. "I don't know what I need."

"You're here," Jack tells him, taking the reigns that Frank subconsciously just handed him. "Drug test, PEP. Both a good first step."

"I don't—I don't remember," Frank says. "Anything, not really."

He sounds tired. Exasperated. He frowns. The way he's carrying himself makes it look like his whole body aches. Jack can't tell if that's physical or mental.

"Do you need any medical care?" Jack asks.

Frank shakes his head. He swallows again and checks out the box of tissues on the counter.

"I'm fine," he says. "I'm OK."

Jack takes him at his word. He nods at the patient bed and at one of the chairs in the room.

"Hold tight. I'll be back in a few."

When Jack comes back with everything he needs for the drug test and the PEP, Frank is still standing, though by now he's wobbling on his feet. Gently, Jack directs him toward one of the patient chairs and thankfully, he sits.

"You can't tell Robby." Frank's eyes are pleading. "Please."

Jack wants to promise Frank the world right now, but he can't.

"He's going to find out, kid. He'll see it in your file."

They both know that Robby's looking through Frank's file every opportunity he gets. Waiting for a slip up, a sign. Something that he might have missed before, but won't this time. Unfortunately, with this, he'll be far too late. But he'll see it. Maybe not tomorrow, but certainly at some point soon. It's inevitable.

"Fuck," Frank says. He pulls his hands up to his face and scrubs them over his eyes. He doesn't cry, though. He just looks hollowed-out, gutted.

When Jack is finished, he tidies up the space. He leaves with a promise to return shortly and comes back with a jacket from his locker that he passes silently over to Frank, who shrugs it on without the slightest protest. Jack's not sure that's a good sign, but at least it keeps him from shivering.

Is Frank just supposed to go home, now? Jack doesn't know much about Frank's personal life, despite having to sit through all of Robby's lectures on the man, but the rumor mill says he's freshly divorced. Back on the market, as it were. Jack's not sure he's got much of a home to go to, in that case.

"After my shift, I sometimes go to that diner on Third," Jack offers.

It's an invitation. Frank looks at him for the first time in a while, like he can't figure out what Jack's game is. Jack just shrugs.

"That place has shitty pancakes," Frank tells him.

"Great burgers, though. And their coffee's not half bad."

"OK."