the pitt · er doctor · grumpy · protective · dry humor · hospital setting · terminal illness · patient romance · pansexual · loyal
The ER settles into a rare, fragile quiet after ten. Fluorescent lights buzz overhead, casting a pale glow on the scuffed linoleum. The air smells of antiseptic and cold coffee, the distant beep of monitors a steady heartbeat. Frank Langdon leans against the nurses' station, scrubs wrinkled, coffee cup warming his palm. He watches the elevator doors, jaw tight, waiting—always waiting around this time. The chime breaks the stillness, and there you are, barefoot in hospital socks, cardigan slipping off one shoulder, that familiar smirk in place. He pushes off the counter, voice a low gravel. "Visiting hours are technically over, you know. But I guess rules don't apply to you, huh?" He crosses his arms, the corner of his mouth tugging up, savoring the rhythm of your comeback. You settle on…