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justlemmeadoreyou · 17 days

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3. protectively watchful (restaurant owner!harry x chef!reader)

(part 1 here) | (part 2 here)

summary: you take up on the mantorship offer, but it creates more tensions and turmoil within you than were before. an incident in the kitchen makes harry go into protective mode, and you can't help but get turned on by this man more and more.

words: 4.8k

warnings: sexual tension (like A LOT), inappropriate behaviour, protective!harry.

***

"You wanted to see me, Chef?"

You gave a light knock on the open door of Harry's office, trying to sound polite and professional. It had been a few weeks since you had that talk with Harry about keeping things strictly business between you two. During that time, he had been a perfect mentor - giving you advice and guidance without any flirting or suggestive comments.

His coaching had really helped improve your cooking skills as you soaked up all his knowledge and experience. You were grateful to have a normal working relationship again, focused solely on culinary training. And yet...you couldn't ignore the faint lingering tension between you, that subtle underlying charge.

Harry looked up from the notebooks on his desk, his eyes crinkling in a warm smile when he saw you. "Ah, there you are. Come on in, have a seat."

You sat down in one of the chairs across from him as Harry neatened up the loose papers into a stack. Up close, you couldn't help noticing how well-fitted his black button-down shirt was, or how his tousled hair looked very touchable.

Firmly reminding yourself this was just a professional meeting, you averted your eyes politely until Harry cleared his throat.

"So as you know, the big Martin gala fundraiser is coming up in a few weeks," he began, shuffling through some folders. "It's one of the biggest events of the year for underprivileged culinary education programs. I'll be preparing the featured dish for their live auction, and I'd love for you to assist me on it."

Your eyes went wide with surprise at this prestigious opportunity. The Martin gala was a hugely famous event in Chicago's culinary scene, attracting all the wealthiest and most notable diners. For an up-and-coming chef to collaborate on the centerpiece dish was an amazing honor and chance to get exposure.

"Wow, yes of course!" you replied enthusiastically. "I would be absolutely honored, Chef. Thank you for this incredible opportunity."

Harry's dimples deepened as he smiled approvingly. "Don't thank me yet. We'll be under a huge spotlight to deliver an amazing showstopper dish. I expect you to rise to the challenge."

You quickly nodded. "You can count on me to give it my absolute best effort. I'm ready to do whatever work is needed."

"Excellent," Harry said in a slightly lower, huskier tone. "That's exactly what I like to hear."

For a moment, his voice had a heated quality that hinted at other situations where your eagerness might be welcome. You ignored the shiver it sent through you, reminding yourself this was strictly business now between you two.

Harry seemed to realize he was skirting the line, as he abruptly straightened up and all hints of flirtation disappeared as he switched fully into mentor mode. "Right, well let me walk you through my basic vision so far..."

You leaned forward attentively as he outlined preliminary ideas for a highly ambitious and avant-garde dish blending molecular gastronomy techniques with classic French cuisine fundamentals. It was wildly cutting-edge, even for a showpiece event like the Martin gala. But the more details Harry provided, the more that same thrill of adrenaline rushed through you whenever presented with a new culinary challenge to conquer.

For the next hour, the two of you bounced ideas back and forth in that unique creative flow state that chefs share. Harry's presence was magnetic, but you refused to get distracted by more physical aspects - like the stretch of his biceps against his crisp sleeves, the hint of toned abs beneath his open collar, or the raspy timbre of his voice dipping into that lower register as he passionately discussed certain techniques.

And oh, his damn tattoos.

No, you sternly told yourself as the conversation began wrapping up. Those days of getting flustered around him were over. Harry had made it clear where you stood, and you fully accepted those boundaries. Anything else was just self-torture.

"...but of course, those are just preliminary thoughts," Harry was saying as he collected the scattered folders into a neat pile. "We'll have plenty of time to refine the details over the next couple weeks."

You nodded, filing away the mental notes you'd taken during the discussion. "Absolutely, Chef. Just let me know whatever you need for prep or testing different ideas to get a head start."

"Will do." With an air of finality, Harry gathered up the pile and rose from his seat. You quickly stood up as well, not wanting him to loom over you in the enclosed space. For a beat, you both hovered awkwardly, the air seeming to thicken between you.

"Well then," Harry said, making no move to step past you towards the door. "I'd say this calls for a drink to celebrate our new collaboration, wouldn't you agree?"

Before you could reply, he turned and went to a small antique cabinet tucked in an alcove you hadn't noticed before. With a practiced hand, Harry selected a heavy glass decanter and two tumblers, placing them on the cabinet and expertly twisting off the stopper.

"Let's go with Lagavulin," he mused aloud, carefully pouring two generous glasses of the amber scotch whisky. "A good Scottish whisky seems appropriate for the occasion."

"I really shouldn't, Chef," you said reflexively, already picturing your lightweight self getting sloppy and unprofessional after even a single drink.

But Harry just chuckled softly. "Loosen up a little. It's a celebration, after all."

He emphasized this by bringing one of the heavy tumblers over and pressing the cool glass into your hand. You frowned down at the coppery liquid, worrying your lower lip uncertainly. But before you could protest further, Harry gently clinked his glass against yours in a silent toast before taking a sizable sip.

The whisky's smoky, peaty aroma seemed to wrap around you intimately. Despite your hesitation, you couldn't help giving an appreciative inhale before taking a small, tentative sip yourself. Bold, layered flavors of vanilla, caramel, and charred oak underscored by an earthy smokiness burst over your tongue. You let out a soft sigh of indulgent pleasure at the decadent taste.

"Good, isn't it?" Harry's gravelly voice made you start slightly. He was watching you with amusement, whisky glass dangling casually from those large, handsome fingers. "It really hits you in the back of the throat, makes you slow down and savor it fully."

You suddenly realized the suggestive implication behind his phrasing and felt a flush of heat bloom across your face and chest. Harry watched the play of emotions flickering over your features with relish before taking another indulgent sip. This time, you noticed the way his full lips pursed delicately to drink, the tiny furrow of concentration between his brows as he savored the flavor before swallowing.

Unconsciously, your eyes tracked the mesmerizing flex of his throat as he swallowed, the hint of stubble grazing along his chiseled jawline. A twinge low in your abdomen accompanied the thought of feeling that scratchy burn of beard between your thighs, that talented mouth working magic elsewhere on your body.

Mortified, you shut down that wayward trail of thought through sheer willpower. Your cheeks grew even hotter as you realized Harry had caught you staring, his own gaze darkly amused.

"Easy there," he murmured huskily, stepping a bit deeper into your personal space. "This dish is a marathon, not a sprint. Best to learn to savor every indulgent morsel along the way."

With a pointed look and arched brow, Harry raised his whisky to those plump lips once more, holding your gaze as he placed the rim against that full lower lip and let out an obscenely gratifying groan of pure delight.

Moments after, the tension had subsided, but the flush and blush that had creeped up your cheeks wasn’t going away anytime soon–you were sure of that.

***

You tried to push aside the lingering thoughts about the “Celebration” that were now implaed into your mind, and the way tiny droplets of the drink remained on his lips till he licked them off with his tongue–

You wanted that tongue to be yours.

Shaking your head, you focused on prepping the ingredients for the evening service. The dinner rush would be starting soon and you needed to have everything ready. As you worked, you were vaguely aware of the dining room filling up with patrons being seated. The sounds and aromas of the bustling kitchen surrounded you in a familiar, comforting way.

You were so engrossed in your tasks that you didn't notice the man approach until he cleared his throat loudly. Looking up, you saw a smartly-dressed diner smiling at you in a way that made you instinctively uncomfortable.

"Well, hello there," he said in a syrupy tone. "I was just admiring the delicious-looking fare over here." He raked an obvious look up and down your body. "The menu selections have my mouth watering already."

You stiffened, recognizing the overly familiar leer. This wasn't the first time you'd dealt with an obnoxious patron hitting on you. Keeping your expression neutral, you replied in a polite but firm tone. "I'm afraid you'll need to return to the dining room, sir. The kitchen is off-limits to guests."

Rather than taking the hint, the man leaned nonchalantly against your prep station. "Don't be like that, sweetheart. I was just hoping you could suggest something...special for me to sample tonight." He punctuated this with an exaggerated wink.

Suppressing a grimace, you turned away to continue your work, hoping he would give up and leave. No such luck. The lech sidled closer until he was nearly pressed against you. "What do you say? I'd love for a tasty little thing like you to--"

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave the kitchen area immediately." Harry's firm baritone cut across the man's words like a whip crack.

You looked up in relief to see your boss standing with arms crossed, jaw clenched as he glared at the offending patron. Even from several feet away, you could sense the potent force of his displeasure rolling off him in waves.

The diner seemed to shrink slightly under Harry's censorious scowl. "Oh, uh, my apologies. I was just trying to get some personal recommendations--"

"The kitchen is off-limits and you're making my staff uncomfortable," Harry interrupted, his tone brooking no argument. "I won't ask again. Return to your table or you'll be asked to leave the premises."

Looking sufficiently cowed, the lech swiftly retreated with some mumbled apologies. You exhaled slowly, trying to dispel the anxiety brought on by the unpleasant encounter. Harry stepped closer, his expression softening as he looked you over with concern.

"You okay? That asshole didn't go too far, did he?"

You managed a faint smile, oddly touched by the protective edge in his voice. "I'm fine, Chef. Just another boorish customer thinking the uniform is a dinner invitation."

His jaw tightened again as he scowled in the direction the man had gone. "That type of behavior is completely unacceptable. You let me know right away if anyone hassles you like that again, understand?"

Nodding, you found yourself blinking rapidly against the unexpected prickle of grateful tears at having Harry firmly in your corner, despite the complicated dynamics between you lately.

For a long moment, he watched you carefully as if gauging your equilibrium. Then Harry surprised you by reaching out and briefly squeezing your shoulder in a reassuring gesture. The warmth of his large hand seeped through your uniform, leaving a tingly imprint even after he pulled away.

"I've got your back, [Y/N]. You focus on doing your job and let me deal with any assholes who get out of line."

The gruff tenderness in his words made your heart do a traitorous little flip in your chest. You nodded again, not trusting your voice enough to respond properly.

With one final pointed look, Harry turned and headed back out to his front-of-house duties. As you watched his broad-shouldered form disappear through the swinging doors of the kitchen, you felt a complicated tangle of gratitude, protectiveness, affection...and yes, a lingering undercurrent of attraction that you couldn't seem to fully extinguish despite your best efforts.

You spent the rest of the dinner service determinedly pushing aside any lingering thoughts about Harry or the earlier incident. Focusing fully on your work was the only way to get through these confusing emotions that had you all over the place..

The rhythm of prepping, plating, and coordinating with the other line cooks settled into a familiar, reassuring routine. The constant flurry of chopping, sautéing, and barked orders provided a sort of meditative escape from your muddled headspace.

By the time the last diner had been served and the kitchen was winding down for the night, you felt pleasantly drained in that satisfying way that comes from a job well done. As you began breaking down your station for cleaning, Harry emerged from his office looking satisfied.

"Excellent work tonight, everyone," he called out in that effortlessly commanding tone. "Front-of-house said the new salmon dish was a huge hit. We'll definitely want to keep that one on the seasonal menu."

A chorus of tired but pleased murmurs went around the kitchen at the praise. Harry's eyes found yours amidst the small crowd, holding your gaze a beat longer than strictly necessary before moving on to the other cooks. You tried not to read too much into it.

With the nightly pep talk concluded, Harry rolled up the sleeves of his crisp white chef's coat, joining everyone in the evening breakdown and cleaning duties. You watched surreptitiously as he expertly broke down one of the grill stations, muscles in his broad forearms flexing enticingly with each efficient movement.

Get a grip, you scolded yourself, quickly refocusing on scrubbing down your own prep area. This was exactly the kind of distracted, unprofessional behavior you were trying to avoid lately around Harry.

Despite your best efforts, however, you couldn't fully ignore him moving about the kitchen, checking in with each station to oversee their sanitation. At one point, he paused to examine some utensils that hadn't been properly cleaned, tsking in displeasure before batting them aside to be re-scrubbed.

"That's never going to meet inspection," he chided the sheepish-looking young line cook in his trademark gruff tone. "Do it again, and do it properly this time. We're not running a greasy spoon here."

As much as his uncompromising attitude could be intimidating, you also found it oddly...thrilling to witness Harry taking charge so authoritatively. Not to mention the visual of those powerful hands deftly at work was sending your thoughts in an unprofessional direction yet again.

Sternly redirecting your focus, you turned your back to give the area behind the grill station a thorough scrubbing. You were so engrossed that you nearly jumped out of your skin when Harry's low voice sounded directly in your ear.

"Everything looking good over here?"

You whirled around to find him looming directly behind you, near enough that you could smell the spicy notes of his subtle cologne mingling with the lingering kitchen aromas clinging to him. Up this close, you couldn't help noticing how the top buttons of his coat had come undone at some point, offering a teasing glimpse of the toned chest beneath.

Trying not to stare, you quickly averted your eyes as you nodded. "Y-yes, Chef. All clean on this side."

"Hmm." His assessing gaze slowly raked over your work before returning to your flushed face. The tiniest of smirks played about his lips as if he could read the direction of your thoughts.

"Well, then. Carry on," was all he said before turning and strolling unhurriedly back towards his office, burgundy cargo pants slung enticingly low on those lean hips.

You let out a shaky breath, mentally cursing how easily flustered you still became around this man, no matter how much you tried to enforce boundaries. Resolutely, you refocused on finishing your cleaning tasks, determined to get out of there before any more distracted lapses in professionalism.

By the time the kitchen had been scoured from top to bottom, you were one of the last few staffers remaining. Wearily peeling off your apron, you were just reaching for your bag when Harry reappeared, looking unhurried and relaxed now that the nightly duties were done.

"Heading out?" he asked as you approached, one thick eyebrow raised questioningly.

You stifled a yawn with the back of your hand. "Yeah, I'm beat. Gonna try and get some extra sleep before the morning prep shift tomorrow."

He made a noncommittal sound, falling into step beside you as you headed for the employee exit out back. For a few moments, you walked in silence, oddly aware of the warmth radiating off his body this close to yours.

When he finally spoke, it wasn't at all what you expected. "You did good with that asshole customer earlier."

Your steps faltered slightly at the praise before quickly recovering. "Oh...uh, thanks, Chef. You really didn't need to step in like that."

"The hell I didn't," he countered gruffly. There was an edge to his tone that made the tiny hairs at your nape prickle. "No one treats my staff like piece of meat, especially not in my own goddamn kitchen."

Harry shook his head in disgust at the very idea, causing a lock of mahogany hair to fall rakishly across his furrowed brow in a way that really shouldn't have been as distracting as it was.

Swallowing hard, you refocused on the matter at hand. "I've dealt with guys like that before. Just comes with the territory sometimes, y'know?"

"That doesn't make it acceptable," he insisted, mouth setting into a grim line. You found yourself unable to look away from the sharp angles of his frowning profile, chiseled jaw ticking faintly with irritation, that he tried to mask.

He fixed you with those intense pale eyes, all traces of humor gone. "No one - and I mean no one - gets to treat any of you with disrespect while I'm in charge around here. I won't stand for that shit under my roof."

The ferocity in his tone sent an involuntary shiver rippling through you, though from wariness or...something else entirely, you couldn't say. All you knew was the low, authoritative resonance of Harry's voice carried an unmistakable air of command that raised goosebumps along your arms.

Maybe it was the late hour, or the fact you were walking in such close proximity out of public view. Or hell, maybe it was just the sheer presence of this man who could flip between stern taskmaster and something rawer, more carnal in the blink of an eye.

Whatever it was, you felt that subtle spark between you ignite and suddenly, you desperately needed to be alone to process the yearning that flickered to life low in your belly. Before you could consider the impulse further, you were blurting out the first excuse that came to mind.

"Well, thanks again for that. And for the whole mentorship thing too. I, uh...I actually have some errands to run, so I'll just catch you tomorrow morning, 'kay?"

You didn't even give Harry a chance to respond before ducking through the exit, muscles taut with confused tension. As the cool night enveloped you, you drew a deep, shuddering breath in an effort to steady yourself.

Whatever weird atmospheric flux had momentarily enveloped you back there was too dangerous, too distracting from the tenuous balance you and Harry had only just reestablished. No, it was better to put some space between you before things got muddied again.

With a fierceness born of sheer force of will, you wrestled your turbulent, wandering thoughts back under control. You were a professional, with goals to work towards. Getting pulled into Harry's electrifying orbit again would only derail you.

Still, as you hurried to your car, his shape-shifting countenance kept flashing unbidden across your memory - the dazzling smile, the brooding intensity, the simmering promise of authority barely restrained. All of it provided an infuriatingly potent combination that had your body humming with repressed longing despite yourself.

This was going to take more effort than you'd anticipated.

***

The next couple of weeks passed in a blur of grueling practice runs and preparation for the Martin gala. You and Harry spent nearly every waking hour in the kitchen, iterating endlessly on his showpiece dish concept.

With the prestigious event date rapidly approaching, any lingering awkwardness or tension between you had been shifted firmly into the background. The shared urgency of perfecting this culinary masterpiece became an all-consuming focus that left little room for anything else.

Still, that didn't stop you from noticing...things.

Like how the sleeves of Harry's whites had an endearing tendency to get shoved up his forearms in a way that displayed those tanned, sinewy muscles to distracting effect as he worked. You definitely didn't linger over the sight of his strong hands deftly wielding a knife, making precise, practiced cuts. And you absolutely did not imagine those dexterous fingers trailing across your skin instead of the cutting board.

At least, that's what you sternly told yourself in an ongoing effort to maintain focus.

For his part, Harry was all business during these preparation sessions - issuing clipped instructions, evaluating ingredients with a critical eye, pushing both of you relentlessly to get every component just right. Only rarely did you catch hints of something more underneath that professional veneer.

Like the time you were bent over a burner, carefully spooning out the orbs of flavored olive oil onto the waiting plate. Harry stepped up behind you to examine your work, the warmth of his body radiating against your back. As he leaned in closer to inspect the delicate orbs, his low murmur caressed the fine hairs at your nape in a way that made you shiver.

"That's it...go nice and slow with a deft touch," he rumbled in that raspy timbre that never failed to send tingles shooting straight to your core.

Heart pounding, you risked a sidelong glance to find his pale eyes already locked on yours, glittering with an intensity that contrasted sharply with his deceptively neutral expression. A charged moment stretched between you as that underlying spark you'd been determinedly ignoring flared, sudden and molten.

Just when you thought you might spontaneously combust, Harry blinked and cleared his throat brusquely. "Carry on, then," he instructed in his normal crisp tone before turning away to focus on another component.

You stood motionless for several heartbeats, fingers clenched around the spoon, skin flushed and tingling in equal measures of arousal and disbelief. Did that really just happen or had the endless hours in the kitchen started affecting your mind?

Too skittish to ponder it further, you dove back into your tasks with even more single-minded focus, the uneasy moment shelved and locked away tight. No matter what fleeting tension arose in isolated pockets, you couldn't afford to unpack it right now - not with the enormity of what was at stake.

The days ticked down in a relentless march until finally, you and Harry stood in the solitude of his spartan office the night before the big event, taking a breather from your marathon final prep session.

An ungodly number of mise en place containers filled every available surface, each holding fussed-over components of the highly elaborate and conceptual dish that would make its debut tomorrow. Harry had pushed you both to your physical and creative limits, drilling the execution repeatedly until he was satisfied you could plate it flawlessly under the anticipated scrutiny.

Now, having quality-checked and prepped every last possible element, there was nothing further to do except rest up and bring your sharpest mental game tomorrow. Harry seemed to deflate slightly as the backdrop of mounting pressure decreased for the first time in weeks.

Propping his hip against the desk with studied nonchalance, he quirked one eyebrow in a sidelong glance. "You ready for this?"

Despite your weariness, you felt that familiar thrill of adrenaline stir at those simple words - as well as a contradictory quiver of nerves. This event was a make-or-break opportunity of the highest magnitude, especially for someone like you just starting out. Either you nailed your responsibilities tomorrow, or it all came crashing down in front of Chicago's most elite gourmands.

Shoving aside the sudden flutters of doubt, you met Harry's inscrutable gaze head-on, straightening your spine. "You know I am. We've put in the work, and this dish is gonna blow them all away."

A tiny smirk tugged at the corner of his sculpted mouth as he studied you appraisingly. "That's what I like to hear. Just remember - all the technique practice in the world won't mean a thing if you panic out there."

The subtle warning made you bristle defensively, never one to back down from a challenge. "I'm not going to panic," you scoffed. "I eat massive amounts of public pressure like this for breakfast."

Harry's eyes danced with amusement, and not for the first time, it struck you how effortlessly he could switch between imposing and playful. "Is that so?" he drawled easily. "In that case, would you care to make things a bit more interesting?"

Before you could respond, Harry kicked off from the desk in one sinuous motion to prowl closer. Despite your weariness, you felt your heart rate kick up several notches as he invaded your personal space, long body coiled with a loose, predatory grace.

"Let's say we raise the stakes a little," he proposed in a tone of studied nonchalance that was completely belied by the heated glint in his eyes boring into yours. "If you can prove you've got the chops to keep a cool head under fire tomorrow, I'll take you out afterwards to celebrate. Just you and me, anywhere you want to go."

Your mouth went instantly dry at the implications behind his offer. Were those...the unmistakable undertones of flirtation coloring his invitation? After the weeks of him keeping things strictly professional between you, the sudden shift was dizzying - and left you dangerously intrigued.

"And what if I choke?" you heard yourself countering recklessly before you could reconsider. "What do you get out of it then?"

His answering smile was pure blistering sin. "Oh, sweetheart. If that happens...I get to take you out too - but somewhere a bit more private."

Harry paused to let the suggestive proposition linger, backing it up with a slow, heated raking of his pale eyes over your body that left zero doubt as to his implication. Heat bloomed furiously across your cheeks as forbidden images flooded your mind unbidden - flashes of tangled limbs, straining muscle, sweaty exertion of a far different sort...

Then, just like that, the provoking spell was broken. Rocking back on his heels, Harry shrugged one broad shoulder in an easy, dismissive gesture. "But that's not going to happen, is it? You've got all the skills, you've put in the time - no reason to buckle tomorrow."

He threw one final weighted glance in your direction before pivoting on his heel towards the door. "Get some rest. I'll see you at the venue early to do our final walkthrough before we get this show on the road."

And with that parting comment, Harry strode casually out, leaving you rooted there in dumbfounded silence. What the hell had just happened? One moment, you'd merely been steeling yourselves for tomorrow's high stakes challenge - and then suddenly he was issuing some bizarrely flirtatious...proposition.

Or was that really what it was? As you stood there chasing replays of his words, his tone, his body language - the whole previous interaction kept taking on a slinkier, more salacious cast. Like maybe your presence of mind was slipping already, causing you to read into things that weren't really there.

No...no, you decided as you hefted your bag, determined to put it all out of your head for now. Harry was just his usual aggravating self, trying to rile you by dangling some imagined reward or punishment to keep you on your toes before the big event. This whole...suggestive semiflirtation thing was just the product of your own exhausted mind playing tricks.

Firmly shoving aside all unsettling thoughts, you focused on the immediate challenge awaiting tomorrow. You would plate Harry's showpiece dish to absolute perfection, prove yourself under the brightest lights, and decisively seize this career-making opportunity.

Everything else could be dealt with later.

♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡

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megalony · 13 days

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I Need To Help You

This is a new Eddie Diaz imagine, requested by @heart-35 I hope you like how it turned out.

I would love to do a follow up if anyone is interested/ has any ideas.

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Eddie Diaz Masterlist

Summary: (Y/n) hasn't been feeling well lately, and when she gets worse while Eddie is at work, Chris has to call him to come home and help.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A headache began to cloud over behind (Y/n)'s eyes and churn in tandem with the storm raging in her stomach. She felt like she was going to be sick. She felt like her brain was going to shut down and go unconscious at any moment.

Her head tilted down to press into her hands and each shallow breath she took fanned against her palms and blew hot air right back at her. But something about it was calming. It was soothing to feel each breath and try to control the state of frenzy she felt like she was going into.

But with her head bent forward into her hands and her back arched over, (Y/n) could feel herself beginning to slip. Her head was leaning down more and more until her body was on the verge of falling off the armchair.

All she wanted was for the sickness and the unease to go away. She didn't need this right now. She didn't want this now. Not considering the amount of migraines she had been getting lately and the two sickness bugs she had gotten last month, curtesy of Chris who seemed to always pick them up at school.

The doorbell jolted (Y/n) out of her wallowing state and acted as a restart button in her system. Suddenly, after the bell chimed, (Y/n) could hear the tv softly playing the music channel in the background. And she could hear Chris singing in the dining room as he did some arts and crafts. And she could hear the shower vaguely in the background and the Queen anthems blasting from the bathroom where Eddie seemed to be having his own private concert.

Everything came flooding back to her in waves and she allowed herself to slide down off the chair and down onto her knees so she could restart her body.

The doorbell chimed again and she quietly groaned, using the chair as leverage to get herself up and moving towards the hall.

It was too early to be Buck coming round to pick Eddie up for quiz night. It wasn't likely to be Maddie. (Y/n) was sure her sister was on shift today and Chimney would be home with Jee.

She couldn't think who it would be as she shuffled towards the door on unsteady feet.

(Y/n) took a deep breath and tried to hold her chin up and straighten her shoulders as she unlocked the door. Greeting anyone while she was doubled over and looked like she had just woken up from a thousand year nap wasn't going to give the best impression, no matter who was on the other side of the threshold.

"Hello?" Her smile contradicted the confusion and unease in her voice when she looked at the woman on the doorstep.

(Y/n) didn't know her.

The woman had long flowing brown hair and a fringe that was long enough to cover her brows and almost curve right into her eyesight. Her hair settled nicely across her shoulders in long chocolate waves like a river and her eyes matched the colour of her hair. But there was something almost scrutinising behind her eyes that set (Y/n) on edge.

And she wasn't too sure about the woman's smile either. It was a tight smile, as if smiling any wider or relaxing any further would cause her to fragment into pieces.

She had one hand around her bag on her shoulder and her other hand was nervously rubbing across her hip like she had too much energy and didn't know what to do with herself.

"Can I help you?" (Y/n) did her best to smile again and she tried not to let all of her weight lean on the door in case her knees buckled beneath her.

She leant her cheek against the door and clung to the handle while her weight shifted from her heels to her toes.

"Oh, I… I was looking for Eddie? Eddie Diaz?" The woman took a daring peek behind (Y/n) to try and see into the apartment. To try and catch any glimpse of Eddie and assure herself that she had come to the right house and found the right person.

And (Y/n) could understand that. She could understand how much courage and nerves it took to go to a strange place and wonder if she had the right address and wonder if she would be welcomed or shunned. But as nervous as the woman looked, she also seemed determined and maybe not like she was in a rush, but like she was impatient for something.

"He's just in the shower, he'll be out soon." (Y/n) took a deep breath and rolled her lips together before she tried to form a bit of courage and make sure she didn't sound too rude. "Um, who should I say is here?"

She snook a glance over her shoulder, but she could still faintly hear the rock music blasting all the way from the bathroom at the back of the house. If the music was still playing, Eddie wasn't out yet. (Y/n) didn't feel okay with welcoming a total stranger to wait in their home. She didn't know this woman and until Eddie came out and helped this situation, (Y/n) didn't want to let her inside.

"I'm Shannon. Who are you?" Her smile started to dampen around the corners, giving away her thinning patience.

Something sharp clawed at (Y/n)'s chest and made her stomach squeeze uncomfortably when realisation set in.

This was Eddie's ex-wife. This was Chris's mum. This was the person Eddie hadn't seen in four years, even when he got divorced, he never saw Shannon face to face. All of that had been done through the divorce lawyers, without fuss, without contempt.

(Y/n) never thought she would get to meet Shannon, and a big part of her wasn't sure she was too happy to meet her either. This was the woman who had so easily walked out on both boys. She left Eddie and walked away from Chris without looking back. And (Y/n) was an understanding person. She could sympathise and agree and understand a lot of different perspectives.

She could understand that Shannon needed a break. She needed to be with her family, she was at her breaking point. All of that was understandable, but walking away and never looking back was unfathomable. How she could leave without saying goodbye. How she could go every Christmas and birthday and not send a card. How she could so easily turn a blind eye and not have the decency to call and ask how Chris was. That was something (Y/n) couldn't come to grips with.

She had come to think of Chris as her own son and even the notion of going one day without knowing how he was made (Y/n) feel paranoid and sick to her stomach.

Shannon left four years ago and she didn't look back. She cut all the ties and connections she had with them and left Eddie to explain and pick up the pieces and try to tell Chris that it was nothing Chris had done that made his mother leave.

"I'm Eddie's wife."

(Y/n) rolled her lips together into a thin smile that showed unease and discontent and a small bottled up token of rage that she couldn't unleash.

She found herself standing up straighter and moving onto the doorstep so she could pull the door until it was open only by a partial gap. She didn't want Chris to hear and find out who was at the door. Not when (Y/n) had no idea why Shannon was even here.

How would Chris take this if he found his mother on the doorstep? He would think this was a sign that she was coming back to him. And if she left again, (Y/n) and Eddie would have to deal with the aftermath. They couldn't let him get hurt a second time. They couldn't take that risk.

She could see the anger that swirled in Shannon's eyes and the resentment that was plastered across her face when her upper lip curled and she was at the point of baring her teeth.

"He- he's married?" She huffed and moved both hands to her hips, leaning back at an angle as if she had been shoved off balance. "Typical." Shannon let out a small, cynical laugh and moved her hand to run her thumb across her lips. Her head tilted to the side like she was looking to God or to somewhere unknown for a source of strength and a group of answers she needed.

"I'm sorry? You're divorced, did you think he wouldn't get into another relationship?"

They had divorced, they were legally cut from one another, no more ties connecting them to reopen the wounds that had taken years to heal. Did Shannon believe Eddie would never get into another serious relationship with someone else? Did she think he was wrong for finding love again and marrying (Y/n)?

It wasn't as if he had left Shannon a few months ago and had quickly moved onto (Y/n). It had been four years since they split up, not four months.

"I didn't think he'd get married again, considering he only married me because I got pregnant. Is that what happened with you?"

"No, it wasn't. I guess I didn't need a child for him to commit to a relationship with me. Now what do you want?"

Her headache was coming back. She felt like she was going to be sick. She wasn't standing here getting insulted on her own doorstep. If Shannon was here to pick a fight, she had made a wasted trip because (Y/n) wouldn't indulge and she was sure Eddie didn't want to fight with her either.

Before Shannon could come up with an answer, they both heard a faint, low voice coming from the hallway.

"Mi amor, who was at the door?"

(Y/n) was surprised Eddie had heard the doorbell considering the volume he'd been playing his music at. But then again, there was a door chime plugged in the hallway and one in the back hall near the bedrooms so they could hear any calls during the night and around the house.

She leaned back into the door and pushed it open, glancing over her shoulder towards her husband.

There he was, just walking out of the living room. Eddie had one hand rummaging through his curls that were sodden and glued to his forehead in such a messy way that it made (Y/n)'s heart skip. He was barefoot, padding around with just a pair of sweatpants on that were hung very low on his hips, showing off the top dip of his hipbone. And it made (Y/n) wonder whether he was wearing boxers or not.

"It's for you," Their eyes locked while (Y/n)'s quiet voice gave away how nervous she felt.

Her voice set Eddie on edge as his hand dropped from his hair and he picked up the pace to reach the front door.

One hand found (Y/n)'s hip and the other held the door which he curved his head around to see who was outside. It couldn't have been Buck or else (Y/n) would have already invited him in and Chris would have been all over him by now.

The way Eddie's nose crinkled and his lips parted like they were melting made (Y/n) shiver. It was as if he was made of wax and his composure was starting to melt away. She could feel his hand tightening around her hip while his other hand clenched around the door that was giving him splinters from how deeply his nails were puncturing into it.

"What the Hell are you doing here?"

Shannon scoffed. Clearly, that wasn't the welcome she was looking for, although (Y/n) wasn't sure what she had expected after ghosting them for years and then suddenly appearing out of the blue without so much as a warning.

(Y/n) could feel Eddie's chest tensing behind her and the way his shoulders rose like he was growing and re-shaping right there behind her. His hand stayed on her hip and his thumb brushed up and down her skin while he leaned against the door, waiting for an answer from his ex-wife.

"I came to see you… I wanted to talk." Her eyes kept dithering across to (Y/n) as if she was some stranger listening in on their conversation.

The look she gave (Y/n) made Eddie's jaw clench and he didn't move from his spot leaning against the door. Not allowing (Y/n) to disappear back inside and hide away. She was his wife, she lived here. She had a smuch right to be a part of this conversation as the rest of them.

"It's a bit late for that." His eyes glanced down at his wrist as if there was an invisible watch strapped to his wrist telling him exactly how long Shannon had disappeared for.

He used to keep track of the time. He used to count the days which turned into weeks and then he'd notice each month that slipped past while he was left on his own to care for their son. But when (Y/n) walked into his life, that clock stopped working and it stopped mattering to Eddie. Suddenly he didn't care how long Shannon had been gone for, because he didn't want her to come back any more. He stopped begging for her to come home and started wishing she would never return.

He had Chris, he had (Y/n) and they both took care of Chris and loved him to the end of the Earth. This little family right here was all that they needed.

"Eddie please, we need to talk. Alone."

Her eyes made another burning wave towards (Y/n) and it was as if Shannon had hit her. The look sent another wave of dizziness through (Y/n) and she found herself leaning back into Eddie, trying to soak up some of his strength and energy.

She knew Eddie could feel her resolve fading away, but when (Y/n) tried to turn and excuse herself from the conversation, Eddie had other ideas. His hand left her hip so his arm could bind around her waist instead and he pinned her protectively into his chest.

"Whatever you wanna say, you can say to both of us." He tilted his head down so his lips could smother the back of (Y/n)'s head which started to turn warm and fuzzy beneath his touch.

Eddie didn't want (Y/n) to feel like she had to go inside. She was his wife, she was part of this and Eddie wasn't going to reitterate everything back to her. He wasn't going to let Shannon make (Y/n) feel out of place in her own home.

"Mum! I need help, it's broken again!"

Chris's soft voice travelled through the hall and distantly reached the three of them out on the doorstep.

His words made panic pool in (Y/n)'s stomach, caused Eddie to tense and brought out a dangerous look across Shannon's face. It was as if all the anger was physically bubbling up inside of her and her skin started to turn a dark shade of rouge while her hands balled up into fists at her sides.

She wasn't stupid. She knew Chris didn't know she was here on the doorstep and if he did, that wouldn't be the first thing he called out to her. He was asking for (Y/n). He was calling (Y/n) his mum. It was as if reality came crashing down onto Shannon and showed her just how much time had passed since she last saw her son. Time was telling her that there was always a deadline and she had far missed her deadline by a few years.

(Y/n) had stepped into the role Shannon had left behind. She had become Chris's mother and he was thrilled to have her in his life.

When Shannon leaned forward, Eddie twisted to the left. He turned (Y/n) in his arm and nudged the door open so she could head back inside and go see Chris before he came out here and realised who was on the doorstep. They didn't need Chris to witness this or know that Shannon was here; Eddie wasn't having this bombard him today, out of the blue.

She quickly slipped back inside, feeling Eddie's hand linger on her waist and his lips against the top of her head before they parted and he pulled the door closed behind him. Effectively cutting Shannon off from his family who he wanted to protect at all costs.

"No. No! Eddie I am his mother-"

"What kind of mother disappears for four years at a time Shannon? Just go-"

"She's not his mother. I had to leave, you know I did but I thought of him every single day."

The tears in her eyes almost made Eddie feel bad. Almost. But he couldn't fall back into the argument again. It was the same every time. It ended with Eddie having to argue his own wrong-doings and justify himself. When Eddie went in the army, he always came back. He had a set date for coming back, he never left with the intention of walking away and leaving his family behind. That was the difference between them.

Eddie went away with a day set to come home. Shannon walked out without the intention of returning. And Eddie always kept in contact. He was thousands of miles away in a war-torn zone and he tried. He tried to video-call and message and ring and send letters every day. Shannon didn't send so much as a text.

"And while you were thinking of him, (Y/n) was taking care of him. She took him to school, she sat with him when he had nightmares, she patched him up when he fell and she's adopted him. If Chris wants to call her his mum, I sure as Hell won't stop him."

(Y/n) rolled her lips together and tilted her head down when she heard the front door slam.

A nagging thought in the back of her mind wished she could have focused her hearing and made out the small, one-minute argument happening outside before Eddie came back in. But she pushed the thought aside and tried to concentrate on holding the two wooden pieces together.

Chris had a new craft project, making a figure from a movie out of wooden sticks and cuttings. It was going well, but the glue took a while to cement and the pieces kept falling apart every now and then.

Her arms dug uncomfortably into the back of the dining chair next to the one Chris was sat in. She had her lower back arched out to see if it would relieve the tension in her spine and make her feel any better. But with her head hung forward, she just wanted to slip down to the floor and go to sleep.

"Here you go baby." Her voice wobbled as she handed the newly glued pieces over to Chris.

She barely managed to kiss the top of his head before she made a beeline for the kitchen. Straightening up made her lower back twinge and made her stomach feel like it was stretching too far so she settled for walking doubled over with her arms around her waist.

Her arms stretched out and her trembling fingers curled around the rim of the sink just in time to throw up.

Her chest slammed into the counter edge and sent shockwaves through her while her stomach twisted and burned and her knees pressed uncomfortably into the kitchen cupboard. Everything started to shake and a hot flush crept across her skin as she threw up her lunch.

Sparks fluttered beneath her skin when she felt a pair of hands glide around her waist and a bare chest mould over her back. She could feel Eddie's wet lips pressing softly against the base of her neck and towards her shoulder while his thumbs stroked across her waist softly.

"Is this nerves, mi amor, or are you getting sick again?" The concern was dripping from Eddie's quiet, gravelly voice and it made (Y/n)'s stomach jump again, but in a different way this time. If she didn't feel so sluggish and sick she would have swooned at the tone of his voice.

Her heart almost gave out and her vision sparkled with white dots when Eddie pressed himself against her so he could reach his left hand around her front. He kept hold of her hip while his left hand pressed against her temple, feeling how hot and flushed her skin was.

"Sick," She murmured quietly, pulling back from the sink when she knew for sure that she wasn't going to throw up anything else.

She hated being sick. She hated feeling this down and low and the way her stomach would twist and cramp and how her spine felt like there was a brick resting heavy against each column. This would be the third time (Y/n) had gotten a sickness bug in less than three months and she felt worse this time.

Why couldn't she catch a break?

"Then we need to get you laid down. Me and Chris will look after you."

She barely had time to turn around in his embrace before his hands were on the back of her thighs and he was lifting her up. Her legs settled around his torso and her head fell against his shoulder, humming against his neck while he carried her out of the kitchen.

***

Tears traced down the bridge of (Y/n)'s nose and trickled across her lips that were meshed tightly together to stop herself from screaming.

Her arms bound tighter around her waist until she was almost sure that her circulation was being cut off to her torso. And when she brought her knees up to press against her arms, her eyes closed and her forehead pressed down against the top of her knees.

She didn't feel well.

No, she was in agony. What was she supposed to do? She was home alone with Chris and it was almost nine o'clock at night. Eddie was out on a double shift that started at lunch time and wouldn't finish until eight o'clock in the morning. (Y/n) couldn't wait that long. She couldn't go another eleven hours in crippling agony like this, but she didn't know what other options she had.

Could she call Maddie? Was her big sister at work, surely she wouldn't be, Maddie didn't often do night shifts. She couldn't call herself an ambulance and risk frightening Chris and dragging him along to the hospital with her. She couldn't drive herself anywhere in this state.

Maybe she would have to call Eddie and see if he could come home. But did she want to risk getting him into trouble and worrying her husband when she didn't know what was wrong?

Yesterday after Shannon left, (Y/n) chalked this down to a sickness bug. Last night when it felt worse, she thought maybe it was her period. That would explain the stomach cramps and the back ache, but every time she went to the bathroom she was shocked to see it wasn't her period.

When another pain tore through her stomach, (Y/n) wasn't sure whether she was going to pass out or be sick.

A choked moan spluttered past her lips and into her knees as she began to rock herself back and forth on the bed.

All afternoon since picking Chris up from school- something she had barely managed without collapsing on the way home- (Y/n) had been sluggish and had to hide her pain from him so she didn't worry her boy. They had spent most of the afternoon watching movies in the lounge until (Y/n) retreated to bed and Chris went to his room to play video games with his friends online.

This was the easiest option for them both. This way Chris could play and entertain himself and wouldn't have to see (Y/n) in pain and she wouldn't have to keep feigning a brave face and pretending she was okay when she wasn't.

Spots danced in front of her eyes when she lifted her head from her knees and allowed a small sob to escape her lips.

Her arms loosened from her legs which dropped down to the bed and she shuffled across until she flopped down onto unsteady feet. Why didn't she feel like this last night when Eddie was home? Why did the pain have to get worse after he left for his shift? He asked her if she would be okay and she stupidly told him yes, not wanting to be a pain.

Now she wished she'd asked him to stay home with her because if he was here, he would know what to do. Eddie would know how to make this better and what to say and how to take the pain away.

She wobbled out of the bedroom, walking with her body hunkered over until her chest was almost meshed into the top of her thighs. And her arms stretched out in front of her as she hurried to the bathroom.

Once the door was safely closed and bolted shut behind her, (Y/n) allowed herself to drop down to her knees on the damp bathmat. Her face smothered against her bare knees again and her arms pinned to her stomach as she knelt like she was praying and in a way, she was. She was praying for the pain to stop or for Eddie to magically know what was going on and come home to help her.

Tears soaked into her knees as muffled cries vibrated against her legs and her body started to rock back and forth to try and calm herself down. It wasn't working.

She could feel the tears getting worse as spasms rolled through her body and she shuddered against the floor.

Straightening up didn't feel like the right move, but (Y/n) knew she had to try and move around and do something to help herself. Somehow. Her hands clung to the edge of the bath that she used as leverage to sit up again while shivers coursed down her spine and she trembled back and forth like she was sitting in the Arctic.

She moved round to use the sink instead to get herself stood up, but she couldn't do it. Her knees started to buckle and her arms flopped against the sink as she crumpled over like a scrunched up piece of paper. Her knees bashed into the base of the sink and her elbow clocked the black and white speckled pot that held all the toothbrushes on the edge of the sink.

(Y/n) barely heard the sound of the pot falling into the sink basin or the way it broke apart on impact and split into fragments. All she could hear was a horrid ringing in her ears which her cries couldn't break through.

A frown appeared on Chris's face and he tilted his head to one side, looking around the hallway.

He was aiming for his parent's bedroom but he paused mid-walk and looked to the left towards the bathroom.

What had his mum broken in there? Why could he hear her crying?

Unease flooded his chest along with a dreaded slither of panic that grew and grew with each passing second when he heard more cries coming from the bathroom. He knew (Y/n) hadn't been feeling well lately and it was clear she hadn't been well when she took herself to bed two hours ago. They would usually stay up and watch a film together in the evening before bed.

Not that it had been too unsettling for Chris, he had been allowed to play his video game with his friends online and chat to them even though it was after tea time. He was happy enough to play his game, but he knew it was bed time now. He knew it was time to turn off the electronics and get ready for bed.

And he never went to bed without saying goodnight to his mum and dad.

"Mum?" Caution flooded Chris's voice and he tenderly knocked on the bathroom door, shifting his gaze down to his bare feet while he waited for a response.

His body jumped back and he gasped when he heard a loud bang. It sounded like (Y/n) had fallen ir in the very least, knocked something over.

His hand curled around the door handle but he whimpered when he jiggled the handle and realised it was locked. What was he supposed to do? Was his mum okay? Did he continue banging on the door and hope she would open it soon? Did he try and get some help? Did he go back to his room and wait, just in case (Y/n) was alright and just throwing up or being a bit clumsy? He had no idea what kind of situation this was, whether it was one that called for alarm or one that could be easily rectified.

"Mum? Mum!" His voice turned to loud whines and he continued to hit the door when he could still hear (Y/n) crying.

"C-call your dad."

That was the sign Chris had been waiting for. That was the signal that this was a bad situation. If (Y/n) wanted to call Eddie while he was at work, that told him that this was an emergency and something bad was happening.

Chris patted his hand against the wall as he hurried back to his room, stimming along the way with his head nodding back and forth and his fingers clenching and curling.

What if his dad didn't answer? Who was he supposed to call if he couldn't get hold of Eddie? Who was the next in line for this kind of situation?

He flopped down on his bed, tapping his toes against the floor as his body swayed back and forth and he pressed his phone to his ear. While his free hand scrunched up in the cover to steady himself and give him something to focus on. Each dial the phone made caused Chris to rut his jaw from side to side and make little clicking noises. He needed help. He needed Eddie to answer the phone. He had to be told what he was meant to do.

"Hey buddy, you okay?" Confusion was woven through Eddie's words as he tried to prevent a yawn from escaping his lips.

He slouched back in his chair and propped his feet up on the chair next to him so he was reclined with one elbow leant against the table. It had been a while since Eddie did a night shift and he was already tired when the night hadn't truly begun yet. He hoped to God this wouldn't be another full moon night where they had call after call and dealings with strange cases. He couldn't be doing with that tonight.

And he wasn't sure why Chris was ringing him either. Sometimes (Y/n) would call when he was on a night shift so Chris could say goodnight before he went to bed. But they hadn't done that in a while. Eddie knew it was around Chris's bedtime, but he'd never had Chris call him while he was on shift before, it was always (Y/n).

"Dad!"

"Chris what's wrong?" He dropped his legs from the chair and sat up straight as goosebumps covered his flesh and the hairs on the back of his neck started to stick up on end.

"Mum's crying… she- she won't let me in. Dad do something!"

The panic was evident in his son's voice and Eddie knew if Chris was sitting in front of him right now, he would be stimming away. He sounded like he was about to cry and that made Eddie's heart go ten to the dozen in his chest.

Where was (Y/n)? Why was she crying, was she being sick again? Had she gotten worse since Eddie left her at lunch?

"Where is she? What's going on?"

"Bathroom, door's locked. I think mum's hurt…" Chris dared to venture out into the hallway again and tapped his hand on the bathroom door. He was close enough now that Eddie could hear the clattering about coming from the bathroom and the quiet cries that crackled through the phone.

"Fuck! Fuck I'm coming home now okay? Go back to your room buddy and wait for me and uncle Buck to get there. Don't go near the bathroom, just leave your mum in there. It's okay, I'm coming."

Oh God, what was happening back at home? Why did he come on shift today? Why didn't he go with his gut and stay home to look after her? Why did this have to happen when he wasn't home?

What was he going to go home to?

***

"Eddie, what do you need?"

"Do you want the gurney or just a medic bag, or we can-"

Eddie held his hands out in front of him and shook his head that was already on overload without all their voices bombarding him at once. He could feel his weight swaying back and forth from his toes to his heels as he tried to find his sense of balance and prevent himself from collapsing. That was the last thing he needed right now.

The cold night air whipped against his skin and had him shivering since he had forgone his jacket back at the station in his hurry to get the team to help him. But the brisk temperature helped to liven him up and keep him alert; that was what he wanted right now.

"Bring the kit but don't- I need to find out what's happening first. I need to see (Y/n) first. Buck I need you to sit with Chris."

It was a silent agreement that Eddie was taking the lead on this one. This was his family, his case and his surroundings, they would follow his directions here. Bobby had already contacted dispatch to alert them that they had a personal call they needed to be on just in case they tried to redirect them anytime soon.

Hen and Chimney placed a medic bag on the gurney and wheeled it after the team.

Eddie led the way, using the spare key to let himself in since his keys and wallet were back in his locker at the station. He stormed into the hallway with Buck hot on his heels and Bobby behind them. He didn't want any of them coming too close and seeing (Y/n) until he knew what was going on and what kind of medical emergency (Y/n) was having.

The last thing she would want or need was the team gawping at her and trying to bustle in. Eddie had to see her first.

His boots thudded against the floor and echoed off the walls and when they got into the corridor, he pointed towards Chris's room. When Buck bypassed him and headed inside, Eddie peered his head around the door so Chris would know he was home and trying to get a handle on the situation.

With Chris now comforted and safe, Eddie turned his attention to the bathroom. The bedroom door was wide open and empty so he knew (Y/n) hadn't come out of the bathroom in the time it took the team to get down here.

"Baby? Baby it's me." He tried the handle but it was still locked, he couldn't expect anything else. If he himself was ill or in a state he wouldn't want Chris walking in and seeing him like that.

He waited. His forehead was almost touching the door and his hand stayed fisted around the handle but he could feel the panic growing when he didn't get a response and the door didn't open. He was here. He was home. (Y/n) needed to let him in so he could see what was going on and try to help her. He could feel the eyes of the team watching him as the three of them stood with the gurney at the end of the hall.

They wouldn't come any closer until Eddie gave them the signal and told them what he needed.

"(Y/n) open the door." He rapped his knuckles on the door, trying not to punch an indent into the wood, but he couldn't quite restrain himself. She had to let him in.

"I… I…"

"What? Baby, open the door please. I need to help you." Eddie's free hand dug into the doorframe while he rested his arm against the door and pressed his temple against his arm.

He could of cried when something along the lines of 'I can't' whimpered past (Y/n)'s lips. Either she was somehow incapacitated and couldn't get to the door or she didn't feel able to open it. Either way, this wouldn't do. Eddie was going to have to break it if she couldn't get it open and let him in.

"Then stay back because I'm gonna break it."

With his hands braced on either side of the door, Eddie took a step back and leaned his weight backwards. He balanced on his left foot and rammed the heel of his boot into the door beneath the handle, swiftly breaking the bolt that kept it locked.

The door swung open so far it collided with the wall and almost rebounded back into Eddie.

He didn't know where to look.

The sink was littered with broken glass. Bottles and creams had been knocked from the stacker by the bath and had scattered across the floor and fallen in the empty bathtub. At least four different towels were laid around the floor in various ways. Some wet, some dry and scrunched up, and some were lathered in blood.

But when his eyes locked on his wife, curled up in the corner of the room beneath the window, Eddie's heart faltered in rhythm and his lungs squeezed and made him choke on his breath.

"E-Eddie…"

"Oh God."

He broke out of his frozen state, kicking the towels out of the way until he could crash down on his knees in front of (Y/n). And again, he wasn't sure where he was meant to look.

Did he concentrate on her eyes that were blown wide and barely able to focus on him? Did he look at her chest that was rising and falling so light and quickly that she didn't seem to be breathing at all? His he focus on the way she was slumped back against the wall with her knees half propped up?

Or did he look at her hands that were trembling, holding a baby between her thighs?

(Y/n) could barely get any energy into her arms that felt so weak she couldn't even register if her muscles were moving and flexing or not. Her hands and arms began to jutter up and down as she held the baby out towards Eddie with tears tracing down her cheeks.

She was relieved when Eddie reached out and took the baby from her. She couldn't hold them any longer, she could barely keep her eyes open.

All of her energy had been directed into pushing when she realised- far too late- what was happening to her.

She'd had a baby.

She and Eddie had a baby.

(Y/n) didn't know she had been pregnant. Let alone that she had been somewhere around eight months pregnant, judging by looking at her baby.

Her feet skidded against the floor and her legs finally dropped down, soothed by the cold tiled floor that felt lovely against her skin that was burning up. She let her head loll to the left and her eyes tried to keep watch over Eddie. She had always envisioned him with a baby. Wondered what he looked like when he had held Chris for the first time. Wondered how small a baby would look in Eddie's strong arms.

(Y/n) wondered what it would be like for them to start a family, but she didn't think it would start like this. She imagined coming up with all sorts of ways to tell Eddie when she became pregnant. She thought about telling him and seeing her body change and grow and feeling the baby move and going to appointments.

They'd had none of that.

All the little signs over the last few months, (Y/n) had misread them all. The constant sickness bugs she had been getting lately might not have been bugs at all. The back ache was clearly from carrying a baby around with her. Whatever odd, spotting periods she thought she had been having clearly weren't periods either. The little changes she noticed in her moods and appetite and how she was feeling, there had been a reason for it all. And that reason was laid out in Eddie's arms.

"Hen! Get in here I need help!" Eddie glanced over his shoulder before he looked at (Y/n), and then down to the bundle in his arms.

He glided his knuckles across the newborn's chest and then pressed a finger against their lips to check that the airways were clear.

He almost jumped when he felt a small movement and a subtle, croaky breath finally passed the newborn's lips. How had he missed this? How had he not realised something like this was happening? How had he left (Y/n) today and not been here when she went through this trauma alone?

"Oh- oh!" Hen looked something between delighted and horrified when she crouched down beside Eddie and took in the scene in front of her.

She rummaged around in her medic bag until she found two clamps and carefully leaned over Eddie to clamp the cord. Once it was cut, she tried to smile at (Y/n) before moving to check the placenta was in tact.

"Switch." Eddie mumbled quietly, offering out his daughter for Hen to take instead so he could assess his wife.

His arms felt oddly empty when he passed her over to Hen who immediately started checking her vitals and listening to her breathing. There were hundreds of complications that could happen or go wrong with the baby since (Y/n) had clearly had no antinatal care. Hundreds of things could happen to (Y/n) now that she'd gone through this.

Static buzzed in (Y/n)'s ears and she jumped when Eddie was suddenly leaning over her.

One hand curled around her arm and the other cupped her neck while his chest was so close that she could feel each breath he took as he hovered over her. He pressed his fingers to her pulse and counted the beats while his thumb traced her jawline.

"Talk to me, mi amor. How do you feel?" Eddie could guess a million ways (Y/n) would be feeling right now, but he needed to know if she was in pain. He had to know if she was having cramps or stabbing pains or chest pains or difficulty breathing in case there was something he had to worry about.

"Sick…" (Y/n) dropped her head down before Eddie firmly held her chin and leaned her head back again. She let her head turn in Hen's direction and tried to look down at her baby.

She had been so shocked and frightened that she didn't take much time to assess her baby. All (Y/n) could do was hold this new, terrifying life and wait for Eddie to come in and help.

"Is s-she okay?"

"Heartbeat and breathing are good, she's reacting well… you didn't know, at all? You didn't even suspect you might be a few months pregnant?"

(Y/n) hummed and shook her head. If she thought she was she would have gone to the doctor and shared her thoughts with Eddie. They wanted a baby, but not quite in this manner. A little forewarning first would have been good.

"I'd say she's about eight months, but the doctors will check you both over." Hen placed a gentle hand on (Y/n)'s knee before she turned around. "Chim, bring in that gurney, we need to go."

Eddie took the stethoscope from Hen and listened to (Y/n)'s heart before he carefully eased her forward. He let her lean on his left arm and took the time to kiss the side of her temple while he leaned over her and pressed the scope to her back so he could check her breathing.

He switched the stethoscope for a blood pressure cuff and slid it up (Y/n)'s arm. A frown pulled at his lips and he growled when he saw how low the numbers were going.

"BP is crashing. Jesus Christ, mi amor. What am I gonna do with you, hm?"

He managed a soft smile when (Y/n) tilted her head forward onto his shoulder and reached her hands out to curl around his arm. She mumbled something into his skin but he couldn't make out what she said.

He took a look between her legs, scrunching his nose at the blood caked across her thighs which had formed a small puddle beneath her. It looked to have stopped, but Eddie wanted to make sure she didn't haemorrhage again. He found some clotting medication in the medic bag and eased (Y/n) against his chest since she clearly wanted and needed some comfort right now.

She didn't grumble or even wince when he lifted her shirt and injected the medication into her stomach. That told Eddie that she was clearly going into a state of shock or about to pass out because she wasn't good with needles.

"Oh my God, what happened?"

Chimney and Bobby wriggled their way into the bathroom which was now full to the brim and felt like they were all sardines squashed in a tin.

"A surprise baby happened, let's get them in the ambulance." Hen backed up near the door with the baby so it would be easier for them to get (Y/n) on the gurney. They had to go now and get (Y/n) admitted and sorted out, she had been in enough pain and trauma for one night.

"I'm s-sorry-"

"No, I don't wanna hear that." Eddie's voice was sharp and firm while he busied himself looping (Y/n)'s arms around the back of his neck. "Let's get you both down to the hospital and sorted out. Then we can talk about you deciding to surprise me with a daughter, hm?"

He curved one arm around (Y/n)'s waist and slipped the other beneath her thighs. He felt Chimney hover beside him in case he needed help but Eddie easily laid (Y/n) down on the gurney. It took him a few moments to unlock (Y/n)'s arms from his neck and he tilted her head back so he could press a sweet kiss to her lips before he jogged out of the room. He needed to check on Chris.

"Chris-"

"Is mum okay?"

The nine year old shot off the bed where he had been sitting with Buck's arm around him, reassuring him everything was going to be fine. He wrapped his arms around Eddie and looked up at him with such a pleading look in his eyes that made Eddie feel like crying.

He held Chris's arms soothingly and crouched down to be level with him, trying to smile so he knew everything was alright.

"Buddy, I gotta take mum to the hospital, but she's okay. She's gonna be just fine… she's had a baby." His eyes couldn't help but flicker over to Buck who's brows furrowed and his lips parted in confusion.

Since when had (Y/n) been pregnant? Eddie never mentioned anything and this was something that surely would have come up in conversation. And by the look on his face and the tension in the air, Buck couldn't imagine this being a premature birth. The team would have ran off to the ambulance if they had a preemie baby to take to the hospital.

"A baby? Now? But, but you didn't say mum was having a baby-"

"I know, I know… buddy I promise once mum's safe at the hospital I'll explain and you can see her and your new sister. And then you can help me get everything ready to bring them home, okay?"

When Chris nodded, Eddie reeled him in for a tight embrace. He couldn't explain now, he didn't have the time, let alone the words.

Chris wasn't stupid, he knew it wasn't normal to have a baby out of the blue like this. He knew his mum didn't look pregnant and if she and Eddie hadn't mentioned it before now then it was clear they didn't know.

They had nothing here for a baby. No clothes, no nappies or a carrier, no crib, no bottles or food or anything that they would need. The spare room was technically a study which would have to be sorted out quickly now that a baby was already here.

He placed a sloppy kiss to the side of Chris's head before he looked over at Buck.

"Can you watch him?" The silence behind his words was clear. He didn't want to have to take Chris to the hospital and have him watch all this mess.

He didn't want Chris to see (Y/n) in this state or watch them admit her. Everything was going to be hectic. Eddie would have to keep an eye on (Y/n) and help get her onto a ward because he knew she hated hospitals and she was almost passing out. He had to make sure she was okay. And he also wanted to keep track of his new baby girl and make sure she was okay and being looked after. That was no place for Chris to be, especially not this late at night.

Buck nodded and gave Chris's shoulders a squeeze before he exited the room and headed over to Bobby.

"Cap, if uh, if Eddie goes in the ambulance with (Y/n), am I good to take Chris back to the station with me? I mean, my shift finishes in an hour and going to the hospital might not be a good idea."

"Course you can, go get him in the truck."

Eddie watched Buck carry Chris towards the front door, he would take him to the station so Buck could get changed and get his keys. Then he would come back here and stay the night here with Chris. It would be easier for Chris to be in his own bed and be somewhere comfortable, and Buck had a set of keys anyway. He knew he was welcome to stay and watch Chris here.

Once they were out the door, Eddie turned to the gurney that was in the hall and let (Y/n) deadlock her hands around his wrist. She pulled his arm close and kissed his wrist while she rubbed her hand up and down his arm.

(Y/n)'s eyes danced down the hall where Hen was walking with their newborn in her arms, ready to get in the ambulance. And when she looked back up at Eddie, she found his lips smothering her temple.

"We've got a baby."

She could feel his lips curving into a grin against her skin and she could feel the love radiating off of him, despite the adrenaline and panic he was also feeling. Because one thought was overriding everything else going through his mind.

He now had a little girl.

#imagine #911 imagine #eddie diaz x reader #eddie diaz imagine #eddie x reader #eddie diaz #evan buckley

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