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1. Abby
“Man, I love kids. Do you want kids?” Buck blurts out. He hadn’t been intending to ask that on a Wednesday at 10am, sitting in Starbucks, but there’s a mother over by the window, trying to settle a crying infant against her chest while her toddler spins and falls down and gets up and does it all over again with the biggest smile on his face.
Abby’s cup is frozen halfway to her mouth. “Buck, isn’t it kind of early for this? I mean we’ve only seen each other in person five times.”
God, he’s killed this before it even really started. Way to go, idiot, he thinks. Yeah, time to backtrack. Fast.
“No! No I don’t mean…I just meant, like, in theory? Umm. Like did you think about it? When you were, umm.” Fuck, he comes so close to saying “when you were my age,” and even he’s mature enough to know that would be a bad, bad idea.
Abby’s always so patient, though. She’s not laughing at him. She’s not storming out. She’s not even pulling away and saying she’ll maybe see him again next week.
“I’ve thought about it. Yes. But the universe decided it wasn’t in the cards for me, I guess. I’m okay with that.”
“And you don’t want to anymore?” Shut up, Buckley.
“Buck. I’m almost 43.” The way she says it, it sounds like an apology. “Could I still physically have a child? Probably. Would I want to risk all of that, all the complications, to have a kid who would be graduating high school when his or her mom was in her 60s?” She presses her lips together, like she’s bracing herself for an argument. Fuck that. He’s certainly not going to try to, like, talk her into it; that would be an absolute dick move. He’s already learned more about feminism from Abby in a matter of weeks than he had in 26 years, and it’s her body, her choice and all that stuff. She gets the final say, and he knows that if he wants to be with her, that’s just how it’ll be.
Never having a child of his own. He’s okay with that.
He thinks.
He’s 26.
“Do you. Umm. Do you want a scone?”
Abby smiles that beautiful sad, slightly pitying smile. “I would love one. Thank you, Buck.” She reaches across the table to squeeze his hand.
No kids. It feels like a small price to pay, to make a life with someone who already means so much to him.
He’s 26 - what does he know about being a father anyway?
2. Ali
“Would you want kids, someday?”
It’s a dumb fucking question, especially after they’ve just gone two rounds of spectacular sex and still haven’t entirely caught their breath, refusing to even touch each other they’re so sweaty.
Buck thinks it’s kind of like telling someone you love them: whether you mean it or not, drunk on sex hormones isn’t the time to bring it up.
“I haven’t given it much thought, honestly. I’m only 28; there’s plenty of time. Right? Right now, my career is the most important thing to me. I’d have to see where that goes. Whether I want to go back for my Masters. If I get transferred to another city. It’s not a priority.”
Ali rolls out of bed to get a bottle of water from the kitchen.
So, that’s a maybe, right? A solid maybe. They’ll see where they are in a year.
3. Taylor
“That’s a joke, right? Buckley, do I seem like the mothering kind to you? No, I’ve got an IUD and a stash of Plan B to last me literally a year. And if that fails, I already checked that my gynecologist can refer to an abortion provider; I’m not letting anyone with ‘moral objections’,” Taylor puts down her Manhattan to make air quotes, “anywhere near my vagina.”
Buck swallows. Hard.
“Umm, okay. No kids. Got it.”
He can’t quite reconcile the idea of ‘a future with Taylor’ with ‘I’ll never have children’, but whatever. Things are good. Things are fine.
He signals the waitress for another beer.
4. Natalia
“That was beautiful, Buck,” Natalia says as they try to clean up the blood and amniotic fluid and other fun things that are seeping into Buck’s awful couch. “I’m sorry I was so shitty about the sperm donor thing. I guess I thought…I guess I thought it would make things weird? Like you were secretly wanting a kid of your own and would put that on me? Because life? Is great. But I don’t know how I feel about purposely bringing something into the world knowing it’s going to die one day. Does that count as irony?”
She heads for the kitchen, running her hand sweetly through his hair as she passes. Buck just stares at the brick wall, willing himself to keep breathing. He realizes he’s in the exact position he was when he delivered that little life he’d helped create.
“I’m glad you were okay with handing it over; I’m proud of you.” Natalia calls over her shoulder, because the universe fucking hates Evan Buckley.
But he’s okay. He’s totally okay. Connor and Kameron have their baby - Buck gave them this incredible gift and his heart is so full and…all he might ever know about him is that he’s a boy. They promised to send pictures - maybe even have a visit, at some point, when the kid is older - but Buck read a lot about donating, and is as ready as he can be if they decide to cut off contact. He’s pretty sure he’s done enough work to be content with what he’s been given. He has to be. His part of the arrangement is done.
Unless the kid needs an organ. Or a bone marrow transplant. That…hadn’t even occurred to him until just now.
It makes him think, though. About his own life. He’s already set up to potentially be Christopher’s guardian, if something happened to Eddie and if Buck was. If he could go on. Without Eddie. Without being a reckless stupid kid. He knows he has to be, though. Some nights, he’s half convinced Eddie did this just to keep Buck alive. To give him a reason to live. The baby whose name he doesn’t know is just one more reason. Because.
Oh. Right.
Spare parts.
Fuck, he really needs to call Maddie. And Dr. Copeland.
He goes to take a shower. When he comes out, Natalia is holding his phone, looking at it with an expression he can’t quite read.
“Sorry, I. It chimed and I picked it up just to make sure it wasn’t some emergency. There’s. I didn’t open it, but it’s a photo. From Connor.” She hands the thing over, placing it in a hand that’s only barely not shaking. Buck holds the phone like it’s about to explode. He turns the ringer off without holding it up to unlock.
“I think I have stuff to make lasagna. You want lasagna?”
5. Tommy
“I don’t think I’m ever going to get this glitter out of my hair,” Buck says as they climb back into the car. He leans his head out the door and gives it a shake.
“I’m pretty sure I got some in my mouth,” Tommy grumbles, pulling napkins out of the glove compartment. “But Jee is so cute, I’m not complaining; the princess gets what the princess wants. As long as we get to give her back at the end of the day.”
Buck pauses while putting his seatbelt on. “So you. Umm. You wouldn’t want kids of your own?”
Tommy’s not looking at him. Can’t see the look Buck knows is written all over his own face.
“Fuck no. Kids are great, in small doses. I’m happy to be the ‘guncle’ and spoil them rotten. But having my own? Absolutely not.” It’s then that he finally looks down from the vanity mirror. “Shit. You want kids.”
Desperately, is what Buck wants to say. He tries not to think about it, most of the time. What he has is fine; it’s great. He loves Chris. He loves Jee. He waves at babies in the grocery store and is the one usually assigned to pull the kids out when they rescue a family on a call, because despite every other member of their team being an actual parent, Bobby knows Buck feels a connection to them.
Buck doesn’t think Bobby knows that Buck knows this.
What Buck actually says is, “Nah, it’s fine. I’ve got Jee. And Chris! Chris is so amazing, even though he’s barely a kid anymore. And, I mean, I’m so busy, I wouldn’t have the time! And the loft! A place with no walls would be a really bad place to have a baby, right? And like, having such a dangerous job, it wouldn’t be fai–”
The only thing that stops Buck’s panicked rambling is Tommy, holding Buck’s head steady to press a kiss to his lips.
“Evan. You want kids.”
No. No, if he says it, it could ruin the best relationship he’s ever had. It’s fine. He’s fine. He barely thinks about it anymore.
Buck doesn’t say any of that.
“Yes.”
It’s barely more than a whisper, and his voice wobbles as the air from his chest vibrates out of his throat.
The silence in the car is deafening. Finally, Tommy breaks it. “Alright,” he says, reaching a hand behind himself to grab for his seatbelt. “Where do we want to go for dinner?”
It takes Buck three tries to turn the keys in the ignition.
Tommy breaks up with him a week later. Tells Buck it wouldn’t be fair to either of them; that Tommy doesn’t think he would ever change his mind, and he can’t bear the burden of being the thing keeping Buck from being a father. Buck cries. Tommy holds him, and tells him what an amazing father he’ll be. Buck’s maybe-future kid is barely more than a thought, and Tommy’s already putting himself on the list to babysit.
+1. Eddie
“Christopher!”
“WHAT?” Chris yells back, about twelve tons of teenage sass loaded into that one word.
“Why did Buck just trip over your sneakers?” Eddie’s voice is still raised so Chris can hear him down the hall. Buck can practically hear the kid’s eyeroll.
“Is it because you two were making out again and he wasn’t looking where he was going? Get a room!”
“This whole house is my r—” Eddie is cut off by Buck shoving a hand over his mouth.
“Chris, buddy, time for bed. You don’t want to fall asleep in Chemistry again, right?” Chris mutters something in reply that may or may not include curse words. Ugh, teenagers. “We’ll see you in the morning.”
“Futile arguments with your 15-year-old bad,” Buck whispers against Eddie’s neck, “handjob from your boyfriend good.” He yanks Eddie by his shirt collar and slams the door to their bedroom.
Buck can’t make out everything Chris just yelled, but he’s pretty sure it ended with the word ‘soundproof’.
__________
“Did you ever. Uh. Think about. About having more kids?” Buck asks, facing the wall while Eddie is curled up behind him. “Not that I don’t love Chris like he’s my own! Just. Umm. Forget it, sorry.”
It’s 7am and their alarm has just gone off. Out in the hall, the teenager in question curses - for sure this time - and Buck decides to seize the out. He’ll get up to make sure Chris is okay, then tell him to put a dollar in the swear jar (“Who even uses cash anymore, Buck? Can I Venmo it?”). Then pancakes? Yeah, pancakes. Or French toast? He should go see what they have. In the kitchen. Far away from here and that thing Buck just said.
Eddie holds him closer, resisting his squirming.
“Chris is yours. Has been for a while. In all the ways that count. You want to make it official? We can go fill out forms today,” Eddie says confidently, urging Buck to roll over so he can make the promise while looking in Buck’s eyes.
“Oh,” is all Buck replies.
“Remember when I thought Shannon was pregnant again? The more I thought about it, the more I wanted it. Buck,” Eddie’s voice drops to a whisper, “I was so ashamed, but I sort of thought…this is my chance. To get it right this time. Chris is the most amazing kid, and I love him more than anything in this world, but I never took care of him as a baby. I missed his first words and his first steps. I didn’t know how to feed him, or comfort him when he cried.” He squeezes his eyes closed like he’s trying to hold in his own tears. “By the time it was just the two of us, he was…like a mini person. We could have conversations. That was all Shannon - she made him the kid he was. For a long time, it felt like I was just the one who contributed some DNA.”
Yeah, Buck knows a little something about that.
“But yeah. Once it felt like it was about to happen, I wanted it. And after it was gone? That chance, that baby, that life? I kind of closed that box and put it away. I don’t not want more kids. There was just never anyone else. At least no one I wanted to take that chance with. Until you.”
Eddie smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
“You’d be an amazing dad, Buck. You’re already an amazing dad, but you with a baby? I would love to see that. A little girl, I think. You’d…” Eddie brings his hand up to Buck’s cheek. “You’d get up for every feeding. Do every diaper change. And you’d never complain. You’d babble at her, but you’d have different voices for every storybook character. You’d wear her around in a carrier - tiny thing strapped to that big chest to keep her safe - and show her the stove and the yellow tangs at the aquarium and the supplies in the ambulance. And you’d love her better than any father has ever loved his child.”
Buck is full-on crying, more than Eddie’s fingers can wipe away. Instead, he tucks Buck against his chest and lets his tears be absorbed by Eddie’s t-shirt. After a few heaving sobs, Buck asks for a tissue and blows his nose.
“I…I…Eddie, I want that. I want. I want to keep loving Chris; I love him more than I could ever express. I would die for him - I would have died for him then and I still would now…”
Buck feels Eddie stop breathing. Knows he’s remembering the look on Buck’s face the day of the tsunami, when Buck said without words that he wished he had died rather than lose Eddie’s son, and both of them spent the longest seconds of their lives thinking Christopher was…
“And I’m still so happy I was able to give Connor and Kameron their son. But. God,” Buck sobs all over again, “I want to do the whole thing. I want to have a child that’s mine - in all the ways they could possibly be - and raise them myself. Is that horrible? It feels horrible. It feels so fucking selfish.”
“I get it, honey. I promise I get it. And it’s okay to want that. Or even just to like the idea of it?” Eddie is…asking, as much as reassuring.
Buck clears his throat and rolls away, onto his back, blinking up at the ceiling. He thinks about all the times in his life that he’s wanted this, but couldn’t have it and kept on going. He has a feeling that, if he looks over, he’ll see Eddie’s face screwed up like he’s working out a puzzle, wondering how often Buck has thought about this. If he’s ever asked for it before. Buck rolls over and they become two parentheses, bracketing their joined hands.
“No, not just the idea of it. Eddie, I want to have a baby. And I want it to be with you. But if…if that being real, instead of just some maybe-someday idea, is too much for you. If it’s not what you want. Then that’s okay.” And Buck means it. For anyone else? No. Not anymore. But if it’s Eddie…
“Being with you - with you and Chris - is more important than this…this pipe dream. But Dr. Copeland has me working on saying what I want, to see that it won’t push people away?” Please, please don’t let this be how he loses Eddie. “So I’m saying it: I want it. I really, really want it.” He wipes a rough hand over his eyes and clears his throat again.
Eddie doesn’t even take a moment - barely takes a breath - before he responds. “I want it too. I want to have a baby with you. And I don’t just mean the idea of ‘maybe someday’ either. We both know we’re in this for good, whatever challenges we face. Not for a second do I think I’m not going to spend the rest of my life with you. And yes, we need to talk about it - talk about things like finances and leave and fucking names,” Eddie laughs a little wetly, “but yes. I’m saying yes. To starting now, whether that means looking for a bigger place or finding out what it takes to get…what, a surrogate? It’s a yes. No reservations. This is me committing.” He places his free hand over Buck’s heart. “Buck, you are the love of my life, and I’m going to have a baby with you.”
__________
Her name is Emma.
She was worth the wait.