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Basketball murmurs from the TV.
Eddie is stretched out on the couch, one hand holding the tv remote, and the other wrapped around Christopher, who’s warm against her side, tucked perfectly between her and the backrest, fast asleep —his cheek smushed into her shirt, mouth slightly open, lashes dark against his cheeks. Eddie’s fingers drift through his fluffy curls every now and then.
The front door clicks, and Buck is home with the familiar rustle of grocery bags. She gives Eddie a small smile and walks into the kitchen to drop them on the counter and wash her hands quickly. And then she rushes back to the living room with a little eager dance that makes Eddie chuckle quietly.
She leans down and presses a kiss to Eddie’s mouth, sweet and lingering. Eddie smiles into it immediately, heart warming.
“Hi, baby,” Buck whispers.
“Hi,” Eddie whispers back, amused, sleepy-eyed.
Buck’s gaze flicks to Christopher, and her expression goes even softer. She reaches out and brushes a knuckle gently over Chris’s hair —careful not to jostle him before leaning in to kiss the top of their son’s head. Christopher doesn’t stir.
“Hi, baby two,” she murmurs and kneels on the rug, close enough that Eddie can feel the warmth of her against her arm.
Buck slides a hand under Eddie’s shirt, palm settling over the gentle curve of her belly. Eddie exhales softly as Buck’s thumb moves in the smallest circle.
“Hi, baby three,” she smiles, voice dropping into something private.
Eddie bites her lip to hold back the sappy, dopey smile that’s threatening to take over her face.
She kisses Eddie again, nose brushing hers. “How’re you doing, mamacita?”
Eddie’s cheeks bloom instantly, beautiful and helpless about it, and Buck grins because she will never, ever get tired of making her wife blush like that. Eddie looks so content like this, barefoot, hair a little messy, surrounded by the quiet proof of the life they’ve built over years.
“Buck,” Eddie whispers, half scolding, half helpless.
Buck’s eyes shine with amusement. “What?” she asks innocently.
Eddie bites her lip, trying not to smile too much, trying and failing to look stern.
Buck’s thumb traces a slow circle over the curve of Eddie’s belly. “You okay?” she asks again, quieter now. “Comfortable?”
Eddie exhales, hand absently rubbing Christopher’s back gently. “Yeah. Just… tired.”
“Do you want something to eat? I brought those peaches you like. Maybe, uh, maybe a banana? It’s gonna take me, hmm, an hour to get the lunch ready.”
“Banana sounds good,” Eddie smiles.
Buck nods and starts to rise, already moving as if the only thing she’s meant to do is take care of Eddie, when Eddie feels it.
A flutter— soft but distinct. Then another.
Eddie’s breath catches, her hand tightening on Buck’s wrist. “Wait.”
Buck freezes mid-motion, eyes snapping back to her.
Eddie’s voice drops into something awed. “She’s moving.”
Buck stills completely.
For weeks now, Eddie has been feeling the baby —little flutters at first, like butterfly wings brushing from the inside. Then tiny kicks, soft taps that made her laugh and gasp and immediately call for Buck and Christopher.
Every single time.
Buck would rush over —hands hovering, eyes wide with hope. Christopher would scramble up beside them, pressing his small palms carefully against his mom’s belly like he could coax the baby into saying hello because ‘Denny says big brothers are special!’.
But it never worked.
Always too late, or the baby would go still the moment anyone else tried to feel her —like she was playing a private game with Eddie alone.
“She’ll do it eventually,” Eddie would promise. “She’s just being cheeky.”
Buck would huff. “Typical Diaz baby,” she’d mutter, and Eddie would laugh.
Now—
Now Buck’s palm is still resting against Eddie’s belly. And something presses back —the undeniable sharp little kick.
Buck goes utterly motionless, mouth falling open and eyes widening in awe.
Then it happens again —the firm, clear tap against her hand.
Buck’s eyes shimmer instantly.
“E-eddie,” she whispers, voice cracking.
Eddie’s smile turns radiant —tender, almost teary. “You felt her,” Eddie breathes.
Buck nods eagerly as a smile spreads on her lips again, her hand splaying across Eddie’s bump like she’s covering as much area as possible to not miss another kick.
Eddie’s throat tightens. “Yeah,” she whispers. “That’s her.”
Buck bends forward slowly, reverently, until her forehead rests against Eddie’s belly. Her shoulders shake once, just a small tremor of emotion she can’t quite contain.
Eddie’s hand slides into Buck’s hair, stroking gently.
Buck exhales against Eddie’s skin. “H-hi,” she whispers, voice muffled. “Hi, baby girl, your mama loves you so much. I can’t wait to meet you, kiddo.”
Eddie’s eyes burn.
Buck lifts her head, blinking rapidly, her face open in a way Eddie doesn’t see often —raw wonder, pure love.
“I— I can’t believe I felt her,” Buck says in disbelief. “Eddie.”
Eddie laughs softly, tearful. It reminds her so much of the time she was carrying Christopher —like a deja vu. “Told you she’d do it eventually,” she cups Buck’s cheek, thumb brushing gently.
The baby doesn’t kick again. But that’s okay.
Buck leans into the touch and kisses her palm. “We’re not telling Christopher about this,” she mumbles, eyes flicking to the boy still fast asleep.
Eddie laughs quietly. “Got it.”
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