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One thing about Buck is that he doesn’t call in sick. Even in his frattiest, boy-toyiest Buck 1.0 phase, no matter how hungover and/or sleep-deprived, he’d show up. Never in a million years could he imagine himself feeling ill enough to take a day off.
Until today.
In his defense, he’s roughly 18 hours into a 24-hour shift, and he felt shitty even before he showed up for work. He was hoping that, as time went on, he’d start to feel better. So far, the exact opposite has happened.
To start, he woke up in a cold sweat. Not exactly common, but not completely uncommon either; his circadian rhythm is all sorts of fucked up. Every once in a while, he wakes up drenched in sweat. It’s easy enough to ignore.
What’s not easy to ignore is the stomach pains. When Buck first got up, the pains were mild, occurring at random times and lasting less than a minute. It feels like the times he’s sprained a muscle from overexertion, only much more temporary and in a much weirder spot. He brushed it off as his breakfast disagreeing with him.
For the first 16-ish hours, the pangs were easy enough to ignore. The station was getting slammed with back-to-back calls, leaving Buck barely enough time to breathe, let alone think. As the calls died down and he could breathe again, he started to notice the pains more. Or, more accurately, he noticed they not only became stronger, but also more consistent. Rather than occurring sporadically, he realized they were happening every 30 minutes, then 20 minutes, then 15 minutes…
Buck’s spent the last two hours looking at the clock. Not looking at his phone, not pacing the loft, not trying to sleep, just… staring. He’s been counting down the minutes between each flare of pain. He’s also trying to convince himself they’re getting better, but he knows it’s only getting worse. But it’s 2 in the morning, and finding someone to take his place would be next to impossible, and he doesn’t want to leave the team hanging. Besides, it’s only six more hours until B Shift takes their place. Buck’s lived through much worse for much longer.
“You gonna make it, bud?”
Buck’s staring contest with the clock breaks. His gaze shifts to Eddie, and despite how absolutely terrible he feels, he can’t help but smile. This is one of the few shifts the team could shower, change, and get some shut-eye, and Eddie is taking full advantage. His hair is fluffed up and pointing in different directions, a far cry from the gel helmet he normally has on shift. He’s sporting only a pair of grey boxers and a black LAFD tank top that shows off his pecs as much as it does his biceps.
It’s a weird contrast, seeing Eddie in this setting. If they were anywhere else (and he didn’t feel like shit), Buck would be jumping his bones, carding his fingers through Eddie’s hair and down his chest. They’ve managed to maintain a boundary between their romantic and work relationship for almost a year, though, and they weren’t able to do that because they jump each other’s bones at the station.
The only person who truly knows is Bobby, and surprisingly, word didn’t get out when they signed the hefty HR paperwork. Since then, they’ve been coasting. He’s sure Chim and Hen have figured it out, but if they have, they haven’t said anything. Realistically, that’s probably because from their perspective, not much has changed; Buck and Eddie bickered and interacted like a couple for years before they became one.
Eddie frowns a little, stepping closer to where Buck is sitting on the couch. “You okay?” He holds the back of his hand to Buck’s forehead, where a few beads of sweat have been building. “You don’t feel warm…”
One of the pains rears its ugly head, and with it, a wave of nausea washes over Buck. He lurches forward, a series of retches producing only a little bit of stomach acid. The sudden motion shifts the pain to his back. He relaxes back into the couch with a groan.
“Shit,” Eddie says. “You… look like shit.”
Buck, too spent to make a smart comment, nods with his eyes closed.
“I’m gonna get Hen.”
Buck keeps his eyes closed, and even though he can hear Eddie walk off, he nods again. Hen is smart: she’ll know what’s wrong with him.
It takes a few minutes, but eventually, Buck hears footsteps again and Eddie speaking in a low voice.
“...and then he vomited,” Eddie explains.
A gentle hand rests on Buck’s shoulder. “Buck?”
Buck cracks his eyes open to find Hen leaning over him, Eddie a few steps behind her with his arms crossed as he worries his lip.
“What’s going on, kid?” Hen asks, smiling softly.
“Been having these pains…” Buck explains, voice rough from gagging. “Thought I ate something bad, but they’ve just gotten worse.”
“Is the pain in the lower right quadrant?”
Buck shakes his head. “No, it’s not my appendix. It’s just… everywhere, for like a minute, and then it stops. And then it comes back.”
Hen looks at Eddie, then past Buck for a moment before her gaze settles on him again. “Why don’t we get you in the rig so I can take a better look atcha?”
Buck wants to argue, say it isn’t that bad, but truthfully, he’s exhausted and sick of the pain. If Hen can do anything to even slightly relieve it, it’ll be worth the humiliation of getting evaluated in the back of the ambulance.
Eddie gravitates to one side of Buck while Bobby goes to the other, each of them slinging one of Buck’s arms over their shoulders.
“Shit, I’m sorry, Cap, I didn’t mean to wake- Ah!”
Buck cuts himself off with a mix between a gasp and a groan. The pain came back again, taut like a rubber band and entirely demanding. Buck’s hands curl into the shirts of the men surrounding him as he tries to focus on his breathing. Seemingly in the distance, Buck vaguely registers Hen palpating his stomach.
Almost as quickly as it came, the pain dissipates, leaving Buck panting. “They’re getting worse.”
Hen gives a wordless nod, and the boys heave Buck to his feet, helping him down the stairs and into the back of the ambulance.
Buck collapses back against the gurney, feeling exhausted. He answers Hen’s questions with his eyes closed as she hooks him up to the vitals machine.
Any recent illness… Does the pain migrate… ever felt this before…
“...Any chance you’re a carrier?”
At this, Buck’s eyes spring open. “What?”
“Any chance you’re a carrier?” Hen repeats.
For whatever dumb fucking reason that definitely blows their cover, Buck looks at Eddie. “I… what?”
“...You know what a carrier is,” Eddie says, though it almost sounds like more of a question.
Of course Buck knows what a carrier is. Some of the male population have both sets of fully functioning reproductive systems. Last Buck heard, though, it was less than 10% of men. There’s no way he falls into that category.
Buck looks back at Hen. “You think I’m in labor?!”
“I’m trying to rule everything out,” Hen says calmly.
“Well, you can scratch that off your list, because there’s no way I’m-” Buck cuts himself off again with a groan. His hand instinctively reaches out for Eddie, who takes it without hesitation.
“You’ve been having these pains all day, right?” Hen asks.
Buck, unable to answer the question verbally, nods in response.
“And they’re getting more intense and closer together?”
He nods again.
“What does that sound like to you, Buck?”
As the pain subsides, Buck feels a gush of fluid from between his legs. He gasps, watching as his sweatpants turn darker.
“No fucking way,” Buck whispers.
“Buck, lean back for me so I can take a listen, yeah?”
Buck does as he’s told, staring at the ceiling in complete disbelief. His hand doesn’t stray from Eddie’s.
Hen lifts his shirt and squirts a small amount of jelly onto his stomach. She drags a probe against his skin for a few seconds before finding what she’s looking for: a heartbeat. A heartbeat that is far too quick to be Buck’s.
“No fucking way,” Buck repeats.
“Bobby, can you grab me the OB bag?”
“This isn’t happening,” Buck says, and starts to laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of it all.
“Buck,” Eddie says softly. “I know this is scary-”
“Scary? No, this is impossible,” Buck argues. “I’ve been walking around pregnant for the last 9 months, and one of my coworkers is delivering the baby? This isn’t real. I can’t-”
Another contraction shortens Buck’s sentence, this one worse than any of the others so far. His breathing is shallow and ragged as his body tries to work through both the panic and the agony.
Amidst it all, Buck feels strong hands settle on his knee and shoulder. “Buck, look at me.”
Somehow, Buck manages to find Bobby’s gaze.
“You’re gonna be okay, kid. But right now, I need you to breathe, okay? Just breathe.”
With Bobby coaching him, Buck takes in a few deep breaths, each one less shaky than the last. Buck’s free hand finds Bobby’s and grips it like a lifeline.
“I’m scared,” Buck admits, eyes welling up.
Bobby squeezes his hand. “I know, but we’re not, okay? We’ve got you.”
Buck nods as a few tears roll down his cheeks.
“Buck, I need to see how dilated you are,” Hen says. “I’ll make it quick, I promise.”
With Eddie’s help, Buck strips off his soggy sweatpants and boxers, and Hen quickly replaces them with a towel. She makes quick work of the exam, stripping her gloves and changing into new ones when she’s finished. “8 centimeters.”
“We still have time to make it to the hospital,” Eddie realizes aloud.
“No! No hospital,” Buck shakes his head vehemently. “I… It’d be too much.”
Eddie looks reluctant, but eventually, he swallows. “Okay. No hospital… for now. But at the first sign of trouble, we’re booking it, understand?”
“Understood,” Buck nods, squeezing Eddie’s hand.
Hen sets up supplies for an IV, eyeing the two of them. “How long?” She’s already seen more of Buck than she ever bargained for, so the idea of keeping secrets has officially gone out the window.
“Coming up on one year,” Eddie answers quietly.
“Date night,” Buck realizes aloud. “That’s what… did this.”
“Our one-month anniversary,” Eddie agrees. “Chris was away, neither of us had condoms…”
Buck feels another contraction start. “Never again, Diaz!”
With Bobby’s instruction, Eddie settles behind Buck on the gurney. He uses his thumbs to create gentle but firm pressure on Buck’s sacrum. Buck sighs at the temporary relief, his head relaxing back to rest on Eddie’s shoulder.
“You’re doing so good, my love,” Eddie murmurs in Buck’s ear as the contraction subsides.
“This fucking sucks,” Buck replies. He barely registers the discomfort of Hen placing the IV.
“Buck, I’m giving you some fentanyl now. It should help ease the pain a little.”
“Hen, that is the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
The fentanyl helps take the edge off, but it by no means eliminates the pain. Buck endures 15 more minutes of contractions before they start to feel like they’re on top of each other.
“I gotta push,” he eventually grunts out.
Hen pulls back the towel and does a final check. “10 centimeters, fully effaced. Showtime.”
Hen pushes back one of Buck’s legs and has Eddie wrap his arm around his thigh, keeping it up and away. Bobby does the same with the other leg, focusing his attention on Buck.
“Okay, kiddo, on the next contraction, take a deep breath in and hold it, and push to the count of five.”
The sharp sting of the contraction is dulled by the blunt pressure of his body pushing. Buck almost gasps at the change in sensation, but instead does as Bobby instructed and sucks in a deep breath before leaning into the push. It doesn’t feel better than contractions alone, but it feels better knowing he’s getting closer to the finish line.
“Three…four…five,” Bobby finishes.
Buck falls back against Eddie with a sigh. “How many more times do I have to do that?”
“I can already see the baby's head! Once you get that out, it’s smooth sailing.”
Eddie plants a kiss on the nape of Buck’s neck. “I’m so proud of you.”
“Next contraction, do the same exact thing, okay? You’re doing great,” Hen assures.
Buck feels the less-than-gradual tightening of a contraction. He inhales and bears down. Once Bobby gets to ‘three’, Buck gasps and stops pushing.
“What’s wrong?” Hen asks, looking up between his legs.
“Fucking burns!” Buck moans out.
“It’s part of it, baby,” Eddie murmurs, his free hand running up and down Buck’s bicep.
Through the haze of pain and exhaustion, Buck recalls the term ‘ring of fire’ from an EMT class. It’s the worst part of labor.
“I’m done,” Buck relents. “I give up.”
“Buck, I know this wasn’t on your to-do list today, but-”
“This isn’t how it’s supposed to be!” Buck sobs. “If we’d known, we would’ve… done things! Set up a nursery, had a baby shower… gotten engaged! We missed my entire pregnancy and got stuck with the shitty paaaaarttttt…”
Buck’s words morph into a moan as another contraction hits. He pushes consistently, his moan of anguish turning into a scream as the burning sensation returns. This time, though, he powers through it, and eventually, the burning recedes.
“We can still do all of those things, mí amor,” Eddie assures Buck as the labor ebbs. “I know right now this is so shitty, but by the end, you’ll have a baby. Our baby.”
Huh. With how quickly everything’s progressed, Buck hadn’t even considered that it ends with a baby. His baby. Eddie’s baby. Their baby. The realization makes him let out another sob.
“One more good push, and the head’ll be out,” Hen says softly. “You can do this, Buck.”
Somehow, Buck musters the strength to tuck his chin to his chest and bear down. Everyone is giving words of encouragement, but they’re drowned out by a buzzing sound in his ears. He feels a stretch, stretch, stretch, until it abruptly stops. He shudders and lets out a screaming gasp.
“Head’s out!” Hen announces, beaming. “Take a break, Buck; you deserve it.”
Buck collapses back against Eddie’s chest, chest heaving. He’s halfway there, maybe more.
Bobby reaches up, brushing a few sweat-dampened curls off of Buck’s forehead. “You’re doing great, kid. You’re almost done, okay?”
Buck nods wordlessly as he catches his breath. As he settles more into Eddie, he feels the man’s chest trembling. Buck reaches back, his hand finding Eddie’s cheek. “You okay?”
Eddie laughs, turning his head to kiss him on the cheek. Buck feels the remnants of Eddie’s tears linger on his face. “You’re so goddamn incredible.”
Hen pats Buck’s calf. “Ready to get this kid out?”
“Yes, please,” Buck groans.
“Push on the next contraction,” she directs. “It should take one or two more, tops.”
It doesn’t take long for the next contraction to swell. Buck follows his given instructions, sucking in some air before bearing down again. He feels mounting pressure and some shifting, then suddenly, nothing. No pain, no pressure, just… him. His body buzzes at the sudden lack of stimulation.
“She’s here!” Hen smiles.
The sound of an infant crying fills the ambulance. Buck barely registers her lifting the baby between his legs, showing her off.
“It’s a girl,” Eddie sobs, wrapping his arms around Buck’s chest. “We have a daughter.”
All Buck can do is stare ahead blankly. He starts shivering and gasping, the air suddenly feeling thin.
“Babe? What’s wrong?” Eddie asks, his arms moving to Buck’s biceps and squeezing lightly.
Buck’s entire body is numb and shaking. He opens his mouth a few times to respond, only to close it seconds later.
Eddie quickly moves out from behind him to beside the gurney, gripping his hand. “Hen, what’s happening?”
“Cycling BP,” Hen says over the baby’s cries. “Normal sinus rhythm in the 120s.”
Bobby lays the gurney flat, reaching for Buck’s other hand.
“Is he bleeding?!” Eddie asks, voice frantic.
“No overt signs of hemorrhage… blood pressure is stable, 110/65.”
Eddie reaches behind himself, finding the non-rebreather mask and filling it before slipping it over Buck’s face. “You’re gonna be okay, you hear me? You’ll be just fine.”
Bobby crouches beside the gurney until he’s level with Buck’s eyeline. “Buck?”
Buck manages to turn his head, catching Bobby’s gaze. His shaky breathing pattern hitches.
“You’re in shock,” Bobby explains calmly, setting a hand on his cheek. “I know this is a lot to process right now. We’re taking care of you. I need you to keep breathing for me, just like earlier, okay?”
Buck manages a few quick, short nods.
Bobby smiles softly, nodding in return. “Good job.” His gaze shifts to Eddie. “Eddie, I need you to drive us to Highland General.”
Buck whimpers. Bobby is quick to set his other hand on top of Buck’s.
“We’re gonna get the two of you checked out,” Bobby assures. “Nothing is wrong, just need a clean bill of health. You’re okay, Buck. You’re safe.”
At this, Buck manages to relax a little. His eyes drift shut, then quickly open when Bobby starts patting his cheek.
“I know you’re tired, but no sleeping yet,” Bobby says. “Hey, did I ever tell you about what happened this weekend?”
Buck furrows his brows and shakes his head a little. Words still feel like too much.
“Well, May, Henry, and I went mini-golfing…”
For the entire — albeit short — ride, Bobby distracts Buck with his story. He talks about how May and Henry made a bet that whoever lost had to dye their hair blonde. Henry ended up losing, but he bought May ice cream afterwards, so they called a truce. By the time they’re pulling into the ambulance bay, Buck’s breathing pattern is close to normal, and his heart rate is in the 90s.
“34 year old male, gravida 1 para 1,” Hen tells ER staff as they roll the gurney out. “Spontaneous rupture of membranes, uneventful delivery, placenta undelivered. Female infant, APGAR scores 7 and 9. Cord intact and still attached.”
“Alright, we gotta get that cut,” the ER doctor, Dr. Marit, says.
“Wait!” Buck speaks for the first time since the delivery. He pulls the oxygen mask off his face, looking around. “Eddie has to do it.”
They wheel his gurney into an ER room. As they spin it around, Buck sees Eddie and visibly relaxes.
Dr. Marit glances up, then back at Buck. “That’s Eddie?”
“Yeah, that’s me.”
Dr. Marit places two clamps, one close to the baby’s umbilicus and one about an inch above the other clamp. He offers Eddie a pair of medical scissors. “You’re up, dad.”
Eddie smiles, his red-rimmed eyes lining with tears. He accepts the scissors and cuts between the two clamps.
A nurse approaches, smiling gently as she extends her arms. “My name is Hannah, I’m a NICU nurse. I’m here to check her over, make sure she’s okay.”
Hen and Eddie look at each other, then Buck. Buck looks to Bobby, who’s still at his side, holding his hand.
“She’s in good hands,” Bobby assures. “You’ll see her in a little bit.”
Buck nods, first at Bobby, then at Hannah. “Okay.”
“She’s a beaut,” Hannah says, carefully taking her from Hen. “What’s her gestational age?”
“She… uh… she was a surprise,” Buck stutters out.
“...Okay,” Hannah says with a nervous laugh.
“She was a surprise delivery,” Eddie explains. “We didn’t know he was pregnant until he was in labor.”
The whole room stops and goes quiet.
“Holy shit,” Dr. Marit remarks, “you had a cryptic pregnancy? I’ve only seen two others.”
They pull Buck from the gurney onto the bed. He winces at the shifting, realizing how sore he is.
“Yeah, it was fun,” Buck says sarcastically.
“We’re gonna deliver that placenta and you’ll be right as rain,” Dr. Marit assures. He looks around, eyes landing on Hen and then Bobby. “Someone will show you two where to get a cup of coffee.”
Buck immediately reaches out to Bobby. “I need him here. He’s… he’s my dad.”
Dr. Marit glances between them, obviously skeptical but not bold enough to verbalize it.
“I’ll call Chim, see if he can cover the station for a few hours,” Hen says, then dismisses herself.
“Eddie, you should follow her up, keep an eye on her,” Buck says. “She shouldn’t be alone.”
Eddie nods, smiling softly as he sets a hand on Buck’s cheek. “Whatever you need, baby.” He leans in, kissing Buck on the temple before pressing their foreheads together. “I love you.”
Buck smiles, eyes fluttering shut as he sets a hand on Eddie’s forearm. “I love you, too.”