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Eddie is so tired she can feel it in her bones.
It’s the kind of exhaustion that lives under the skin —heavy and familiar, built from weeks of hoping and waiting and trying not to hope too hard. The bathroom light is too bright for the hour, glaring against the pale tile, making everything feel a little too sharp and unpleasant.
She sits on the closed lid of the toilet, bare feet tucked against the cool floor, shoulders wrapped in Buck’s oversized sweatshirt —the familiar scent bringing her some comfort.
On the counter, two pregnancy tests lie innocently beside the sink. Eddie has done this so many times it feels automatic now.
Wait. Breathe. Don’t stare too hard. Don’t want it too much.
Her eyelids droop. She blinks slowly and stands up to stand at the sink, palms flat on the cold counter as she waits. The hum of the fan and her own breathing fill the silence.
She isn’t expecting anything.
Every week has been the same —a careful sort of optimism that she tries to keep folded up small, like a letter she’s afraid to open. Every week ends with that familiar little ache of disappointment, the gentle, resigned clean-up afterward.
She’s already preparing herself for it.
A soft shuffle sounds from behind her. The door opens quietly, like Buck is trying not to disturb her.
“Hey,” Buck murmurs.
Eddie doesn’t turn her head, only tilts it slightly, half-asleep. “Morning.”
Buck steps closer. She smells like outside air and coffee and Christopher body lotion. Eddie feels her before she fully registers her, the warmth of her body as she comes up behind her.
Buck presses a lingering kiss to Eddie’s temple, hands gently holding onto her waist.
“I just dropped Chris off,” she whispers, voice hushed. “He reminded me three times that today is library day.”
Eddie lets out a faint, sleepy huff of amusement. “Of course he did.”
Buck’s arms wrap around Eddie from behind, snug and strong, hands resting low on Eddie’s stomach like they’ve done a hundred times without thinking. Eddie leans back into her without thinking, tilting her head when Buck nuzzles against her neck.
“I thought you’d be still asleep.”
“I was,” Eddie says, muffled. “And then I woke up and decided to torture myself for fun.”
Eddie expects her to make a joke, or scold her gently for being so pessimistic so early in the morning. But Buck goes still —it’s subtle at first, the way her breath catches, the way her body locks like someone just called her name too sharply.
Eddie frowns, eyes still heavy. “What?”
She doesn’t answer, but her arms tighten slightly. Eddie blinks at her reflection, slow and confused, then registers Buck’s gaze.
The pregnancy tests —both lined up neatly as always, sitting like tangible little proofs for something Eddie’s been craving for months now. Eddie’s stomach twists with the familiar dread. She’s already bracing for Buck’s gentle sympathy, the soft “maybe next time,” the careful way she always tries not to look disappointed even though Eddie knows she is, just like herself. Eddie wonders if this is the time Buck finally says the dreadful words. It’s not like Eddie can ask her to stay off the E forever just so they can keep trying for a baby.
Eddie swallows.
“They’re probably—” she starts, voice thick with sleep and resignation. “It’s probably nothing. I just—” Eddie’s brows knit at the way Buck’s hands squeeze her. “What?”
Buck’s voice comes out strangled. “Eddie…”
Something about the way she says her name makes Eddie’s heart stumble. Eddie straightens slowly, turning her head just enough to see Buck’s face.
Buck looks… dumbstruck —her eyes are wide, fixed on the counter, her lips are parted, breath shallow.
Eddie follows her gaze again, and actually looks at the tests this time. Her brain doesn’t understand at first. It’s too early and she’s too tired and too used to disappointment.
Then it clicks.
One line is negative. Two lines—
Eddie’s breath leaves her.
No.
No, that can’t be—
Her knees wobble, stepping closer to the counter as if she’s moving through water.
Positive.
Both of them.
Eddie stares. Her hands grip the edge of the sink so hard her knuckles go pale.
For a second, she can’t breathe. Her thoughts scatter like startled birds. Buck makes a broken sound behind her. Eddie turns her head to find her eyes shining with unshed tears.
“Eddie,” she whispers again, like she needs to say it to make it real. “They’re… they’re all…”
Eddie nods, but it’s jerky, disbelieving. “Yeah… they are.”
Buck’s hands come up, hovering, not touching yet, like she’s afraid to. “Is it—” she swallows hard enough that Eddie hears it. “Is it real?”
She lets out a shaky laugh that sounds more like a sob. “I think it is.”
Buck’s face crumples, breath hitching, tears spilling over. “Oh my god,” she whispers. “Oh my god, Eddie…”
Eddie moves before she can think, turning in her arms, reaching up to cup Buck’s cheeks. “Hey,” she murmurs, voice soft. “Hey, look at me.”
Buck’s gaze snaps to hers, raw and vulnerable. Eddie brushes her thumbs under Buck’s eyes, wiping tears away even as her own fall.
“You’re crying,” Eddie says.
Buck lets out a wet laugh. “So are you. I’m—” She shakes her head. “I’m sorry, I just…” Her voice breaks. “I wanted it so bad.”
“I know,” she whispers. “I did, too.”
Buck’s hand finally lands where it’s been aching to go, sliding around her waist, back to her stomach. This time, her palm presses there with reverence —as if she can already feel something, as if she’s saying hello.
Eddie’s breath trembles. “It’s so early,” she whispers, almost to herself.
Buck nods quickly, tears still falling. “I know. I know. It’s early, and we have to be careful, and—” She laughs again, helpless. “But Eddie… Eddie, you’re pregnant.”
Pregnant.
After all the waiting. After all the negatives. After all the careful conversations and starting vitamins and strict diets and calendar apps and Buck quietly giving up pieces of herself because she wanted this with Eddie.
They’re finally pregnant.
Buck’s smile wobbles as she leans forward and kisses Eddie, soft and trembling. When they part, Buck presses her forehead to Eddie’s again. “Think it took?” Buck whispers, voice thick with emotion, echoing an old joke with a new kind of awe.
Eddie laughs, watery and full. “Only one way to find out,” she murmurs, brushing her nose against Buck’s. “Let’s book an appointment with my Ob-Gyn. But I’m pretty sure…”
Buck’s forehead drops against Eddie’s, her voice shaking with wonder, “We’re going to have a baby.”
Eddie closes her eyes, leaning into her. “Yeah”, she whispers softly. “Yeah, we are.”
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