Answer My Call

Where Do Babies Come From?

"Where do babies come from?", the little australian accent breaks the silence and the entire firehouse tenses up.

Abby feels herself freezing in place, her eyes wide open and her all senses suddenly so, so aware of her surroundings. Erin swears she can almost feel the coffee in her mouth make its way up to her nose as she chokes and coughs in panic. Had Holtz been downstairs with them, it's collective knowledge that a large smirk would've been spread across the engineer's face, her eyes lighting up with possibilities. Meanwhile, Patty just feels so done before anything even started.

When Kevin dropped his nephew off at the firehouse that morning, as if it were the most natural event to ever take place, and proceeded to leave for his hide and seek semiannual tournament, Patty already had a pretty good picture in her mind of how the day would unravel. 

Lord knows she loves her girlfriends, all of them, very much, but she herself wouldn't dare to leave her own child, had she had one, in the hands of those ladies. But then again, she doubted it could be worse than leaving it in Kevin's muscly arms, so maybe there was a good side to that situation.

That said, in the short time period between coffee round and lunch break, Holtzmann had already managed to get banned from the ground floor, being rushedly pushed upstairs to the lab by Erin with a caution warning; if she were to return downstairs, she'd better do it clean and unarmed, no matter how much interest Kevin's little nephew seemed to be showing in her shananigans.

Apart from that incident, Patty thankfully hasn't been keeping tabs on the amount of times she's had to stop Erin from serving the 6-year-old mug-fulls of coffee every time she would wander into the kitchen to get some herself and end up instintively offering the little boy a cup. It's definitely happened more times than it should have, but then again, once is already one time too many. 

Abby, on the other hand, seems to have turned the little blonde australian into a personal assistent, having him do multiple rounds around the firehouse simply to fetch her stuff, or stick that post-it over there, or to put this back in the top third drawer on the left, will you? Thanks. Every time Erin realises she is no longer telling the kid to quit drawing poops and flies all over her white board, she knows it's because he is off running errands for her girlfriend, and so forces herself to walk over to Abby's desk and remind her that Kevin's nephew is not an intern.

Now, Patty is aware she herself is no saint, and keeps getting reminded of that by the panicky wide eyes Erin sends in her direction along with the loud snorts coming from Abby every time she happens to let her not-so-child-friendly vocabulary get the best of her. It must've been around the fourth or fifth time that the little blonde boy came strutting over to her desk to ask her for another snack that she looked him dead in the eyes and let out a desbelieving 'Are you fucking with me?'.

That, and the fact that she's positive that all the boy's glee and joy will end with her stepping on him flat by accident.

But that question. That question. Patty wasn't expecting that question. Not today.

She lets out a loud, prolonged groan, letting her head hang forward for a bit, hoping to buy herself enough time so that her girlfriends could put themselves together and help her with this shit, "Why you wanna know? You wanna make one, little man, now do you?"

"Not really, I'm just curious."

"Well, you gotta do the nasty."

Erin is quick to rush over to Patty's side and elbow her on the ribs.

"What's the nasty?", the boy asks and Erin freezes.

"O-oh, um... well, when two people love each other very much, they, um- Oh, I guess it could also be an accident, sometimes it's an accident-", she stammers, awkwardly, before Abby intervenes.