i know i've said it before but i think that fucking frank langdon within an inch of his life would fix robby. and it would fix frank. and it'd fix robby's relationship with langdon. and maybe if jack helped, it would probably iron out the relationship between robby and jack, too.
what i'm saying is that a fully fucked-out, sweaty, panting frank langdon twisted up in robby's sheets would fix everything. it's simple math!
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Thinking about Pup!Whitaker and Pup!Langdon and their respective owners Jack and Robby
Jack invites Robby and puppy frank over for a play date and let’s just say Michael was astounded at how well behaved puppy Dennis is, compared to his snotty nosed, loose lipped mutt.
Frank was always a sweet boy when he wanted to be. Most of the time he turned his tail up at anyone else, acting as if he were better than any puppy or daddy around. Of course he would nevvver act like that around Jack, noooo Abbot ran a tight ship whether he held the key the his collar or not; disrespect was not the be tolerated.
So here they sit Robby and Abbot sitting on a leather couch in Jack’s living room watching or more like observing the pups playtime. Den held a brown teddy bear close to his chest, a small burgundy collar bound around his throat and a cute tan matching shirt and shorts. He watched puppy Frank discard a rope and pick up another out of the litter of toys he had scattered around him. Dennis picked up the rope and started to naw on it, silly puppy.
Frank dropped the squeaky he had and tried to snatch the rope from Den, who had a surprisingly tight grip on it. Dennis snarled while Frank tipped trying to snatch it back from the boy. Frank whipped his head towards his owner flashing those baby blue eyes, Robby sighed leaning forward placing his hand on his neck. “Maybe we can let Den play with the toy, look at all the ones we brought.” He tried to reason but, just like the spoiled brat he is Frank whined.
But before Robby could coddle him anymore Jack intervenes. “Uh uh.” Dennis drops the toy and Franks ears are basically pinned to his head, barely holding onto the toy anymore. “You’re being a rude puppy, Frank. Is this how you treat others?” He doesn’t even sound like he’s asking Frank. “No it’s not seems like you’re too use to my friend here giving you everything you want.” Frank whimpered, folding in on himself, eyes darting between his owner and the one one reprimanding him right now. Michael just shrugged his shoulders.
Jack looks over his shoulder, “Maybe you need a stronger hand a little bit more discipline.” Robby nodded, petting Whitaker on the back of the head, silent permission.
Jack grabs Frank by the back of his blue collar dragging him to the nearest room with a door, closing it and locking it. It’s not long before yips and yowls are heard from the room along with the sound of hand hitting skin. “I’m sorry sir, I’m a rude bratty puppy, I’m sorry, really!!” It just kept flowing out, maybe he was finally learning his lesson.
Jack always had a softer hand for his puppies, especially Frank. Robby tried to keep the smirk away. Maybe all puppy Frank needed was a stronger hand and Jack could provide it. Frank could be a good boy after all, he just needed a little push.
wondering what the first thing i’ll write in the new year will be…next chapters of hucklerabbot fic? part two to hucklerobby lingerie? langdon pining for hucklerobby with angst and smut? huckleabbot punishing their subs robby and langdon? rabbot overstimulation? omega dennis heat in public? robby taking in malnourished werewolf dennis maybe?
the thoughts are actually endless…lmk thoughts…..mwahhh
But You Take Me To Cloud Nine — Day five of The Pitt Kinktober — Dirty Talk for → @pittkinktober
Frank Langdon/Jack Abbot
Rated: E Word count: 1,416
No beta we die like the rat
Summary: Abbot finds out that Robby is fucking Langdon and gets jealous, so he pays a visit to Frank to see why his best friend picked his senior resident instead of him.
ok i know i'm on a little bit of a hookup app kick, but all morning i've been thinking about frank really getting the chance to explore himself in his mid-thirties. learning some things about himself that he never knew.
he's no longer trying to race through college, through med school—all while simultaneously marathoning through the heterosexual dream of a beautiful wife and 2.5 children and a white picket fence. amicably separated and living on his own for the first time since college, with so much time to kill and with his feelings no longer numbed by outside sources—frank realizes he likes men. it's a holy shit kind of revelation, something that truly knocks him off his feet for a good week, leaving him reeling and off-balance.
and he doesn't exactly have the world's closest friends to talk about this with. so what's there to do other than download an app or two? look around. get his feet wet.
frank keeps his profile pretty anonymous, faceless. says he's inexperienced, freshly out of the closet. figures there's no reason to lie and hey, people seem to like it. he hooks up with a few guys and it's good. great. life-altering, honestly.
it's when he's got the app open after a long shift that he gets a message from a guy who spikes his interest. older. fit. upfront & direct. is free now, just like frank. and a profile pic of a torso that makes frank's mouth water. except the other pictures, as frank flips through them, are more damning. they make frank's heart skip in his chest. because that's jack fucking abbot smirking back at the camera like he wants to eat whoever's looking at the picture. and frank wants to let him.
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I wish u would write a fic where langdon gets roofied ... I feel like u could write those Bad Vibes exquisitely......
my GOD that's such a vibe. i love it. obviously this hit me like a brick and i couldn't help myself, so have a little unedited drabble-type-thing of an indiscriminate number of words. more under the "read more."
cw for drugs, sexual assault (off screen), addiction, & general bad vibes.
--
Jack's shift isn't particularly noteworthy until, during the always-strange lull between four and five in the morning, he feels a hand on his elbow. A tug.
When he turns, he finds Frank Langdon standing there staring at him, eyes red-rimmed and bright under the fluorescents. It's too early for his shift and one look is all it takes to realize whatever conversation Frank is looking for isn't one for ten steps from the charge station. Without a word, Jack starts walking toward a quieter corner until Frank is following him into an unused patient room.
Jack pulls the curtain closed and the hospital disappears around them.
Jack doesn't know what to expect, but it's a surprise when the first words out of Frank's mouth are, "I need a drug test."
"Haven't had enough of those?"
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."
It feels like a win, even a little one. Jack'll take it.
share a little monday indulgence with me: frank almost gets assaulted, fights his way away after clocking someone in the face, and then runs into jack and robby outside the bar in which this happened.