#debcarter

"Look! Look! Michael is starting to walk," Deb says excitedly, but John can tell there are tears in the back of her voice as well, "his parents sent me this video."

"Aww, look at the little guy," John coos, "not surprised he's walking already, what with your brilliant genetics helping him out."

"You flatter me," she teases, but it's only halfhearted, as her face becomes less joyful and more forlorn with every passing second.

"Have you visited him yet?" he asks gently, despite already knowing that the answer is now, and she glares at him, wordlessly calling him out on the fact.

"I could go with you, if you ever want to. I don't mean to pressure you, though. Whatever you want to do is fine."

"It's just... hard," she sighs, leaving it at that and John doesn't need her to elaborate because he can only imagine the hundred things that go through her mind at the idea of meeting her biological son again for the first time since he was born.

"Hey," he says, eager to try and cheer her up, "you know what might make you take your mind off of things?"

"If you're trying to get me in an on call room with you right now I swear to--"

"I was going to say, I'm about to go take a drumstick out of not the kid's nose, but the father's. Talk about a surprise there, huh? Come with me, it'll make you smile."

She scoffs for a moment, before shaking her head.

hey @hotchsbabygirl i’m writing more sad but cute ER shit because i am dumb dumb supreme

“Dear, I’m afraid the hand on your stomach is a dead giveaway,” an increasingly familiar voice says from the doorway, “if I had been Lucy or John…”

“I’m not ready to tell them yet, Millicent,” she sighs, turning to face the elder woman with the best smile she can muster, “but you’re right, I should be more careful.”

“Gamma would be fine, I’ve told you,” the other woman responds, sounding almost as if she’s trying to scold her, “Lucy’s taken to calling me that very easily.”

hey i had a 2.5 hour break at work today so here is a lightening fast update lmao. had to pass the time somehow.

He wakes up abruptly, reaching for the alarm to turn it off before he realizes that it is in fact not going off. He’s been setting alarms for three hours at a time so he can nap with Deb (since he had been up half the night with her) and still be up to make sure to stir her during the first 24 hours after a head injury. He’s confused-- if not the alarm, what’s woken him up? It wasn't another nightmare of his, at least not this time.

He turns to his left and sees Deb out of bed, wobbling on her feet as she clutches at the nightstand to try and keep herself steady and upright.

“We’re almost there,” he assures her, “then you get to lay in bed for the rest of the day. But I have—”