A/N: Anon requested "Rookie Blue kidfic! :)" I hope you like Golly, Anon!
"Baby, baby, baby baby baby," Gail sings, pacing from one end of the room to the other. It's admittedly the worst lullaby anyone has ever sung—ever—but Allie doesn't seem to mind, just looking up at her with clear ocean-blue eyes and waving her fists happily. The only thing is, "Aren't you supposed to be, like, sleepy?" She glances to the window, where the curtains are drawn and all that shows beyond is a single streetlight in the dark. "I mean, it's nighttime… you're a baby… I'm singing you a lullaby—kind of…"
Allie gurgles and Gail sighs. "You probably want your other mom. But she's sleepy, you know?" She trails a finger down Allie's nose and brushes it over her cheek. "See, your other mom did all the hard work—she carried you and gave birth to you and she nurses you—so I'm the nighttime mommy. So your other mommy can sleep. Right?"
Allie gurgles again and makes a grab for Gail's finger, which she is happy to sacrifice. She just watches for a while, the fascination and good nature in her daughter's face. Soon she hears the nursery door open behind her, and Holly's arms come around her waist.
Leaning her chin on Gail's shoulder, Holly looks down and says, "We made a good one, didn't we?"
"The best," Gail replies. "Except that she refuses to listen to a word I say."
Holly shakes with silent laughter. "She's a baby, Gail."
"Well," Gail says defensively. "I'm just telling her to sleep, it's not like I'm trying to teach her how to drive."
"Shh, shh," Holly murmurs in her ear, and then can't resist kissing the side of her neck. "She's probably too happy to sleep; look at that face." Now that both her moms are present, Allie is non-stop gurgling, banging her tiny fist on Gail's arm.
"Okay, maybe." The permanent boulder of ecstatic love that lives in Gail's chest pulses outward as she watches Allie's face. "I don't want to let her go, but…"
"I should nurse her to sleep," Holly agrees, and they gently trade possession.
Gail goes to the plush rocker in the corner and curls up against the back, leaning her head on the cushion. Holly comes and sits in front of her, leaning back on Gail's torso with the baby in her arms. Gail shifts just enough so that she can watch Allie eat and fall asleep, and then she lets out a long breath and her body goes limp.
"Remind me again why we don't co-sleep?" she says drowsily, and Holly says immediately, "Risk of suffocation."
"Okay, I know, but wouldn't it be so cozy?"
"Cozy and a death-trap."
"Mmm," Gail hums.
When Holly has laid Allie back in her crib and double-checked the monitor camera, she gently shakes Gail awake. They quietly walk back to their own bed, holding hands, and fall into bed and back to sleep with ease.
The exhaustion helps, but Gail still has nightmares. Ross Perik may be dead, but every day that she works she sees people who could hurt her child. Every day, twenty a day, thirty. And though they're both on mat leave for at least another month, though she doesn't spend her days booking actual (alleged) criminals, she hates to leave the house. It's the newness, she knows. Babies somehow grow into children who go to school and, and field trips and somehow they survive, most of the time, so she'll have to get used to it.
But for now, she's on mat leave and Holly is too and so they're a team; they go to the park as a team and they have brunches as a team and they've never spent so much time with each other's friends, but two moms have a lot of feelings and sometimes they just need to be with their baby all the time.
They've already organized it with their jobs, that they'll each work four days a week and leave Allie with daycare or a sitter only once a week. It's a significant pay cut, but they can be frugal; it's worth it. The first year, at least. They're taking it day by day.
In the morning, Gail wakes first—before Holly and, wonder of wonders, before the baby. Taking one of the monitor receivers with her, she goes into the bathroom and gets as presentable as she can. By the time she's finished, happy morning noises are coming from the monitor and Gail goes into the nursery.
"Good morning baby," she says, grinning. She lifts her out and cradles her in her arms, spending a moment just staring into her eyes and saying, "Hi baby, I love you baby, how did you sleep, baby?"
She's stinky, of course, so Gail changes her and then takes her downstairs to the kitchen. She turns on the coffee machine, pulls a bottle of breast milk out of the fridge, sets it to warm and pours herself a bowl of cereal. She doesn't have much time to sit and she looks up with a relieved smile when Holly comes down, yawning and rubbing her eyes.
She goes straight to Allie, of course, echoing much of what Gail has already communicated. Then the coffee, and finally to Gail, for a sweet morning kiss. "Fed?"
"Both of us."
"Good girl. Do you want to start on the house while I eat?"
Gail nods and goes to the front door to grab the ergo. After burping Allie, she straps her on to her chest and walks into the living room. Holly is a smidgen neater than Gail as a rule (that's an underexaggeration) and Gail is better with her, so they don't have that much work to do to prepare for the brunch they're hosting today. Pillows askew, blankets to fold, so on and so forth.
They have orange juice and sparkling wine for mimosas, a store-bought tray of fruit, and everyone else will be bringing food. Holly and Gail have been having kind of scattered baby welcomings, brunches with parents and in-laws and siblings and friends—and today is 15's turn. Just the original rookies, because that's all Gail can handle, and already she's regretting the whole thing. But she gets to show off her baby, and hopefully there will be some good food, so she bucks up.
Holly comes in and offers to scrub the powder room, and before they know it Gail is running upstairs for a last-minute spit-up related change of clothes as the doorbell rings.
Traci arrives first, with a giant chocolate cake, and Gail could not be happier to see her. Traci understands babies, and children, and mom-hood. Gail makes a mental note to book a one-on-one with her, or maybe a two-on-one, or maybe a playdate—anywhere she can grill Traci for everything the books don't tell you.
They get her settled in the living room, cooing over Allie with justified first dibs, and the doorbell rings again. Gail gets it and it's Andy. They trade a small smile, understanding in their eyes—a lot of things shift in perspective when you have a baby. She brings a quiche, definitely not homemade, and Traci walks her through the baby transfer, though Andy eyes Allie like she's a bomb, and passes her off again as soon as she can. Still there's an expression of awe on her face, so Gail lets it slide.
The boys arrive late, of course, and Chris makes a beeline for the baby, holding her like the Super Dad he was forced to quickly become. He looks a bit like a superhero, too, pushing his chest out and cradling the baby in his muscled arms. Dov just flits around, making faces at the baby over Chris's shoulder and tugging on her tiny toes.
When everyone has a plate and a glass, Holly and Gail sit together on the couch, Allie in her bouncy chair directly to the side, and Gail realizes how domestic her life has become. She feels like an adult.
"So you guys are doing great!" Traci says cheerfully.
"She's a happy baby," says Holly, pride in her voice.
"That doesn't make it easy," Andy says quietly. "You're a good team."
Gail reaches for Holly's hand and thinks again, We are grownups. "Yeah, we're doing okay."
Over chocolate cake and coffee, they get up to date on station gossip; mainly the latest new-new rookies, the ridiculous situations they get themselves in, and how we were them once.
"It's like on Grey's Anatomy," Chris says, and everyone is immediately side-eyeing him. "You know, it starts with the brand new residents, and then every year they add new ones, until by the end the first new residents are like senior year college students and the new-new residents are like the freshmen in high school. Remember when you were a freshman and you thought you were such a grownup, but then you hit senior year and suddenly all the freshmen looked like children?"
"Well, yeah," Gail says, "But I feel the same way now. Like oh, I have a baby, I'm an adult now. Meanwhile I spend time with Holly's mom and like, she's an adult. She's got it all together. I'm just a kid with a baby."
Holly laughs and wraps her arm around Gail's shoulders. "At least we're in it together, right?"
"God knows," Gail says, and everyone laughs. "I do recommend having a baby with someone who went to medical school, though. Very reassuring."
"Except when I start listing symptoms and possible diagnoses when she sneezes."
"Except then."
Traci starts gathering dishes, and Gail gets up to help and follow her to the kitchen.
"Go sit down," Traci says. "I've got this."
"I know," Gail says, and leans against the counter while Traci fills the sink. "I wanted to talk to you, though."
"Oh yeah?" She adds soap and finds the rubber gloves under the sink.
"So you're, like, my mom friend, right? Like my mom expert friend?"
Traci laughs. "What do you need, Gail?"
Looking down, Gail twists her fingers and sighs. "A mom expert hotline?"
"You know you're better off calling Telehealth."
"Oh trust me, we have. And we call Holly's mom, like, three times a week. But can we at least grab coffee or something? Nobody else has kids yet. I mean, some of Holly's friends do, but they aren't cops and it's not the same. You're my only mom friend. I need you."
As Traci laughs, Gail turns to the sink and starts to dry.
"You're going to need non-mom friends too."
"See! That's what I need you for! Great advice like that."
It's kind of annoying how blatantly amused Traci is. Doesn't she get how serious this situation is?
"So you'll be my mom friend, right?"
Emptying the sink, Traci pulls off the gloves and reaches over to wrap her arms around Gail's shoulders. "Of course I will, Gail." It's downright maternal, and Gail is already breathing easier.
They go back to the living room, where Gail has left Holly alone with Andy, Chris, and Dov for far too long. She sits at her side again and takes her hand and listens in on the ridiculous call-of-duty story they're in the middle of. The fact that these are the children looking down on new rookies kind of blows Gail's mind, but you know. She's one of them, still.
When she's changing Allie later, she grins down at her and then says, "Hey, Hol?" urgently.
In a second Holly is in the doorway, one hand on each jamb. "What's wrong?"
Gail carries on with her task, saying, "I just realized there's something incredibly important we've failed to discuss."
Holly approaches warily. She appraises the situation and says, "What's that?"
Folding the diaper, Gail snaps the closures on Allie's legs, then pulls the onesie up over her shoulders and snaps it up the middle. Finally, she picks Allie up and holds her in the air, grinning hugely at her.
"What, Gail?"
Turning to Holly, Gail tucks Allie into the crook of her elbow. Very seriously now, she considers Holly, and then says finally, "Are we brunch people?"
The smile on Holly's face struggles through about eight layers of incredulous indignation before blooming fully. "You are a complete, utter, total idiot." She walks forward and invades Gail's space, wrapping one arm behind Allie and the other around Gail's back.
"Too bad you fell in love with an idiot."
"Definitely too bad," she replies, kissing Gail through matching smiles. Allie yells at the top of her lungs and Holly turns her head to look down at her. "Nothing too bad about you, baby. You just happen to be the very best baby with the very best mommy."
"Mommies," Gail says, and they hang together for another moment, a perfect unit of three. Then, "Nap?"
"Definitely nap."