frank langdon x obstetrician!fem!reader summary: a cute moment with frankie and your bump <3 cw: pregnant!reader, dad!langdon/divorced!langdon, langdon stealing things from the ED, established relationship, langdon kids exist!, just pure fluff, cute blurb & english is not my first language :) 1,2k.
It’s strange, the way joy settles in after fear.
Not all at once, not in some grand, overwhelming moment, but slowly, quietly, like something learning how to exist in a space that used to belong to something else.
For you, it comes in small things.
In the way you stop checking for symptoms every five minutes. In the way your hand lingers over your abdomen without immediately pulling away, like you’re afraid of jinxing it. In the way you let yourself smile after appointments instead of holding it in.
For Frank, it shows differently.
He watches.
He always has, but now there’s something more intentional in it. He notices the way you move, the way you rest, the way your energy shifts after long days at the hospital. He asks if you’ve eaten. If you’re tired. If you need anything.
You don’t say it out loud, but you know what it is.
He’s protecting something he hasn’t even met yet.
And somehow, he’s protecting you even more.
The pregnancy is still early enough that everything feels fragile, but far enough along that it no longer feels like a secret you’re afraid to acknowledge. You’ve had your first ultrasound, heard the heartbeat in a clinical room under fluorescent lights, surrounded by machines and professionalism.
It was perfect and ridiculously real.
One of those nights where the kids where with her mom, both of you just were fully and quietly at home.
The apartment is quiet in that comfortable way you’ve grown into lately, the kind that no longer feels heavy. You’re already in bed, propped up against the headboard in one of Frank’s old t-shirts, scrolling absentmindedly on your phone while waiting for him to finish brushing his teeth.
You don’t notice right away that he’s taking longer than usual.
Or that he’s suspiciously quiet.
“Frank?” you call out, half-distracted.
There’s a pause, then a muffled, “Yeah—hold on.”
You narrow your eyes slightly, already sensing something.
A minute later, he walks back into the bedroom, and immediately, you know.
Because he’s holding something behind his back.
“…What did you do?” you ask, trying not to smile.
“Nothing,” he says way too quickly.
“Frank.”
He exhales, like he’s been caught mid-crime, and then finally brings it into view.
A portable ultrasound device.
You blink.
“…You stole that.”
“I borrowed it,” he corrects, completely unconvincing.
“From the hospital?”
“It was not being used,” he insists, climbing onto the bed like this is completely normal behavior. “And I signed it out.”
You stare at him for a second longer before laughing softly, shaking your head.
“You are unbelievable.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters, already focused as he sets it up on the nightstand. “C’mere.”
Your heart does something soft and ridiculous in your chest as you shift, lying back against the pillows.
“This is very unethical,” you point out.
“You love it.”
“…I do.”
He gives you a small, satisfied smirk before grabbing the gel, his movements a little more careful than usual.
And then—he hesitates.
Just for a second.
You notice immediately.
“Hey,” you say softly.
He glances up at you, and for all his usual confidence, there’s something else there now. Something quieter. Uncertain.
“I’ve only really done this in trauma settings,” he admits. “This is… different.”
Your expression softens.
“Then good thing you married an obstetrician,” you tease gently.
That earns you a small huff of a laugh, some of the tension easing from his shoulders.
“Okay,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you.
He applies the gel, colder than you expect, and you flinch slightly.
“Sorry,” he says immediately, his free hand instinctively coming up to steady your side.
“It’s fine,” you smile. “Just cold.”
He nods, focusing again, placing the probe carefully against your abdomen.
For a moment, neither of you says anything.
The screen flickers to life.
Gray shapes. Movement. Nothing clear.
Frank adjusts slightly.
Then again.
And again.
His brows furrow.
“Okay, hold on—”
You bite back a smile.
“Frank—”
“I’ve got it,” he says, a little too quickly.
You watch him for another few seconds as he shifts the angle, presses a little differently, clearly trying to orient himself, but the image stays inconsistent, unfocused.
There’s a beat.
“…Do you want help?” you ask, gently.
He pauses.
Then exhales, leaning back slightly and handing you the probe without argument.
“Yeah. Probably.”
You take it from him, your fingers brushing briefly.
“Alright,” you murmur, shifting slightly to get a better angle. “You’re too high.”
“I was not—”
“You were,” you say, smiling faintly.
He watches you now instead of the screen, his earlier confidence replaced with something softer, almost fascinated.
Your movements are precise, familiar. You adjust the probe with small, practiced motions, eyes scanning the screen with ease.
“Okay…” you say quietly. “Wait—”
You tilt it slightly.
“There.”
The image sharpens.
And then—
The sound.
Fast, steady, unmistakable.
The heartbeat fills the room.
Frank freezes.
His hand finds yours instantly, gripping it tight as his eyes snap to the screen, then back to you, like he needs to confirm this is real.
“There it is,” you whisper, softer than before, like saying it too loudly might break something.
Neither of you moves.
Neither of you looks away.
The sound is stronger than he expected, more present, more real. It doesn’t feel clinical here, in your bedroom, with the dim light and tangled sheets and your heartbeat somewhere beneath his hand.
It feels… intimate.
“That’s—” he starts, but his voice catches.
You glance at him.
Frank Langdon looks completely undone.
Not panicked. Not overwhelmed in the way he gets at work.
Just… giddy.
Like something inside him has quietly shifted into place.
“That’s our baby,” he says again, softer this time, like he’s still getting used to the words.
You nod, your own chest tight.
“Yeah.”
He lets out a breath that almost sounds like a laugh, shaking his head slightly.
“I can’t believe I couldn’t find it,” he mutters.
You smile. “Different specialty.”
“Clearly.”
But he doesn’t sound annoyed.
If anything, he sounds… relieved.
Your hand is still holding the probe, but his is still over yours, anchoring it there, like he doesn’t want the moment to end.
Eventually, you lower it slightly, the sound fading.
The room feels quieter without it.
Frank’s hand doesn’t move.
“…Do it again,” he says after a second.
You laugh softly. “Of course you’d ask for that.”
But you guide the probe back, find the position again, and the heartbeat returns, filling the space between you.
This time, he leans down, resting his forehead lightly against your temple, his hand still covering yours.
And you stay like that longer than you need to.
Not because you’re checking anything or because you’re worried.
Just because you can and it’s actually real.
And for the first time, neither of you is afraid to hold onto it.
