𝒃𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒔, 𝟫-𝟣-𝟣

𝗏𝗂𝗂𝗂. 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗉

"We will, mommy." the twins chorused before Hen opened the door.

"If he organizes one more shirt, I'm going to lose it." Hen scoffed.

         "Chim Chim!" the girls yelled once they saw Chimney.

        "My favorite twins, I wasn't expecting you today." Chimney smiled at the sight of them.

       The twins' excitement toned down once they noticed all the clothes everywhere. "What is this?" Willow questioned.

        "Chimney thanks the shirts." Hen answered.

        Bailey's eyes drifted towards a pile of shirts before she looked back at Chimney. "Chim Chim, shirts don't hear." she informed.

         "No ears." Willow pointed out.

       "Tim will pick them up before Maddie gets here. Don't bore my children to death, Chim," Jazmyn chuckled before she bent down to meet the twins' eyes. "Be good, babies."

           "We will momma." they chorused.

       "They're not gonna parent trap me, are they? I still can't really tell them apart. I'm going to get it before they leave, but the different hairstyles do help." Chimney asked.

          "Maybe if you make them fold shirts." Jazmyn joked.

☽

"YOU have a 800mg ibuprofen?" Jazmyn asked Hen, who nodded and reached into her bag.

"Yeah, you'll be okay? We have a lot to do this shift. 911 is down." Hen asked Jazmyn as she handed her the pill.

"Yeah, I'll be alright." Jazmyn breathed slowly before she popped the pill.

"What's wrong?" Buck asked Jazmyn.

Jazmyn raised an eyebrow at him. "Buck, please, leave me alone right now." she stated.

Buck looks at Eddie, who shook his head. "I — Okay." he answered.

"Alright, team, we're here," Bobby announced before the team hopped out of the truck and grabbed their gear. "Hen, Jaz, you're up. Eddie, start fluids."

        "We can't just have the baby here in the lobby. That's not how this is supposed to happen." Roger panicked.

         "Roger, this is pretty much the way it's happened throughout human his...tory." Sonia groaned.

         "Hi, I'm Hen. What's your name?" Hen asked the pregnant woman, while the 118 put her on a gurney.

         "Sonia, 39 weeks pregnant. 38 years old, which makes me a geriatric pregnancy. I hate that word." Sonia introduced herself.

        "Word doesn't matter. You're still gonna get a baby out of it." Bobby smiled.

          "I can't believe I'm finally gonna meet him. Here, in the lobby." Sonia laughed.