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The right side of the bed was empty. It was 3am, and the right side of the bed was empty. That was what Eddie noticed when he woke up that morning. He thought about going back to sleep, sure that Buck was fine. He probably just got up to pee again, he was 37 weeks pregnant after all, and their child seemed to be intent on using his bladder as a soccer ball. Or the baby had decided that 3am was the perfect time to be awake, and was wriggling around, stretching and kicking as if their life depended on it. Plus, if he needed Eddie for anything, he knew where to find him.
Closing his eyes, he rolled onto his front and tried to get back to sleep. But the longer Buck was away, the more that little feeling of doubt crept into his mind. What if he wasn’t OK? Scenarios popped into his head, one after another, each one more ludicrous than the one before. What if his waters had broken? The doctor had said any day now, she was certain this baby was going to come early. Or what if he’d fainted and hit his head? What if he’d gone out for a walk and fallen? What if the house had been broken into and he had been taken hostage? What if...?
Groaning, he tried to tell himself to stop being so stupid, but it didn’t work. He still couldn’t just switch off and fall back asleep. The clock now said 3:10am. It was obvious he hadn’t just gone to the bathroom now. The caring, supportive fiancé would get his lazy ass out of bed and go find out. And Eddie was nothing but caring and supportive. When they’d found out Buck was pregnant after just a few months of dating, they’d both panicked, but Eddie had resolved to be completely different this time. He was present, for a start. He’d gone to every antenatal class, every scan, practiced breathing exercises, helped with the birth plan...He even just stood there and bit his lip when Buck’s hormones were going crazy, and he was yelling at Eddie for some tiny insignificant reason.
He pulled on his dressing gown and slippers, because even though they were in LA, it was the middle of winter, and it was freezing outside, and crept out of the bedroom. The bathroom light wasn’t on, so he wasn’t there, he noted, then started to creep down the hall, checking rooms in turn. Christopher’s room door was ajar, but it was only him in the bed, snoring far too loudly for someone of his size. The lounge was also plunged in darkness, he saw from his position in the hallway, but that didn't mean he wasn’t there. He’d check in a minute, though. The kitchen was closer. The light wasn’t on, but it was illuminated by the eerie glow of the streetlight outside. He was about to walk past when he heard a noise coming from the room. Just a sniffle, like someone was crying, but he couldn’t see anyone there. He switched the light on, and heard another sound, an “oh”, followed by Buck’s voice.
“Too bright, switch it off.” He moaned, and obediently, Eddie did so, then crept around the island in the centre of the kitchen. Buck was sitting cross-legged on the floor, his head bowed, staring at something nestled between his legs. As soon as Eddie got to him, he lowered himself down on the floor beside his fiancé and wiped away the tear rolling down his cheek.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” He whispered, staring at Buck’s face. “Are you OK? Is the baby OK? Do you need to go to the hospital?” He tried not to panic. Because Eddie Diaz doesn’t panic. He’s sensible, level-headed, cool in a crisis. He takes everything in his stride and never, ever, ever panics.
“No.” Buck mumbled, his head still staring at his legs. “We’re both fine, sort of. It’s stupid.” He sniffed. “Just go back to bed, I’ll be fine.” Hormones were a funny thing. Buck had always been an emotional person, he used to cry at videos of soldiers coming home, or the telethons for kids with cancer, but lately it was really small stuff. Like a toilet paper commercial last week, or the dog that came up to him and sniffed his bump a couple of days ago when they were sitting on a bench at the park.
“Nothing you need can ever be stupid.” Eddie coaxed, taking Buck’s hand. “Now what’s wrong? Maybe we can fix it together?” That led to Buck wailing again. Eddie just stared, waiting for him to stop. Eventually, the wails dissolved into loud sobs, but Buck still couldn’t say what was making him feel this way. “OK, can you show me?” He asked, his thumb stroking the back of Buck’s hand. Buck nodded, then fished out the container from between his legs. Thrusting it towards Eddie, he managed to force out an “it’s...”, then started sobbing again.
“It’s empty.” Eddie said simply, examining the Ben & Jerry’s tub, which contained nothing more than maybe a few millilitres of melted Cookie Dough ice cream. Buck nodded and took a deep breath, then shakily let it out again. “You had a craving. And there wasn’t much left...” Eddie remembered. He’d looked at the tub that afternoon and there was maybe three or four spoonfuls left then. Buck must have eaten those, then got upset because it was done. “Does our baby have a sweet tooth?” He smiled, and Buck nodded again. Placing his hand on the massive bump (not that he’d say to Buck that it was massive, he was self-conscious about it as it was), Eddie moved so he was lying on the floor, and placed his head on Buck’s legs, his face a few centimetres away from the bump.
“Hey baby, it’s Papi. Are you behaving in there?” He called softly, and, at his voice, a kick hit the spot where his hand was. “Does my baby want ice cream? Is that why you’re torturing Daddy?” Another kick, and Eddie laughed. “OK, OK, Papi’s on it.”
“You don’t have to go to the store, it’s fine. I’ll find something else.” Buck said as Eddie pulled himself back up to a sitting position, then grabbed the side of the counter to stand.
“Nuh-uh, my baby wants ice cream, my baby will get ice cream.” He wasn’t entirely sure who he was talking about at that point, though, baby or Buck. Probably both. “But you can’t just sit here all night, come on, through to the couch with you.” He ordered.
Once Buck had settled on the couch, feet up, remote in hand, Eddie gave him a kiss and walked out of the front door. Buck settled and started to watch an old rerun of NCIS. The title credits had just started when the door opened again, and he craned his neck to see who it was. Eddie barely had time to get to the end of the street, never mind the 24-hour grocery store a couple of miles away. But sure enough, he was standing in the doorway, a tub of ice cream in each hand, straight from the freezer, if the frost covering them was any indication. Eddie closed the door, kicked off his shoes and threw himself down on the armchair.
“Cookie Dough or Rocky Road?” He asked, holding out the two tubs.
“Uh, Rocky Road.” Buck smiled, trading the carton for one of the spoons in his hand, thankful that he’d had the sense to grab them from the kitchen. Without any hesitation, he pulled off the lid and started to dig in. Three spoonfuls had disappeared down his throat before he spoke again. “This is so good...but how did you get them so fast?”
“That’s a secret for another day.” Eddie winked as he carefully opened his own. “I’ll show you when we’re better dressed.” Buck hadn’t been in the garage for around four weeks, not since he’d parked his Jeep there, telling Eddie that he wasn’t going to drive again until the baby was born, scared that he’d suddenly go into labour while he was on the road. And because he hadn’t been in there, he hadn’t seen the chest freezer that Eddie had gotten delivered while Buck was at work. Because if he knew, he’d have looked in it and seen that Eddie had stocked it full of everything that Buck had been craving for the past few months and had been secretly replacing empty packages with full ones all this time. Tonight had been the first time he’d forgotten, but he blamed it on tiredness. A busy 24-hour shift will do that to you.
“OK, I trust you.” Buck replied through a mouthful of Rocky Road. “Now come and watch this with me, we need practice for when this one is up at all hours of the night.” Eddie groaned. He’d forgotten that part of new parenthood. Sleep deprivation was not his friend. But, he reasoned, it’d all be worth it in the end.