I do not own Bates Motel.
But, in some ways, I do own a Dylan. And I love him so much.
Yeah, Whatever
Epidural Confessional
The nurse tapped the syringe with a thumb finger combo Dylan knew all too well from his time riding a motorcycle and praying for just enough gas to get home.
"Wait," he said suddenly. "Can I go to the bathroom one more time before you do that? I don't want to miss anything."
The nurse chuckled at him.
"Oh honey, that's so cute."
And then as Dylan wondered why she was laughing at him, he watched her inject the first dose of oxytocin and prostaglandin.
Why did she do that? Why didn't she wait until I got back? I might miss something.
Six hours later . . .
"Whoa! That was . . . whoa, where did that come from?"
Emma almost looked panicked, breathless and staring sightlessly between her blanketed knees.
Hands knuckle-white on the shiny bedrail.
Heart pounding . . .
Is that it? Is it over? Is she here?
. . . he didn't make a move.
Then Emma looked at Dylan.
It was just the three of them in the room.
No doctors, no nurses.
Half hour injections of more oxytocin and prostaglandin to induce her labor and soften her cervix enough to be able to push out the baby.
And they had been talking, chatting.
Quiet moments.
Chips of ice.
Emma, finally experiencing . . .
"Hey, I think I had a contraction!"
"Do you want me to get the nurse?"
"No, it was just a little one."
. . . some signs of impending labor.
Growing gradually stronger, closer together.
Reporting information to the nurse.
Said information recorded.
Medical attendants seeming satisfied with her progression.
And the anxious trio continuing to . . .
"Oooh, that was stronger!"
"You okay?"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm okay."
And now . . .
"Whoa!"
Dylan, leaning forward and breathless as well.
"Emma? Em?"
And amazingly, she grinned.
What the hell? Em?
"I think I'm ready for my epidural now."
"Okay."
They took a long needle and jammed it in his wife's back.
Several actually.
With thin little tubes and blood and orange iodine smeared on her back to guard against infection.
Not that he saw for himself.
"Just a few minutes, Mr. Massett."
"It's okay, Dylan. It's just for an epidural."
But he watched it on YouTube while he waited.
Oh shit, what?!
Or tried to.
Nopenopenopenope . . .
Okay, that's it.
And then he stood up and paced.
And paced.
And paced.
I thought the pelvic exam was bad.
He hadn't meant to watch as the nurse's arm had disappeared, he swore, nearly up to the elbow in his wife's . . . well, in his wife.
Oh hell, I . . . I'm sorry, Emma. I'll never be man enough again. I just-
As Emma, her sweet face pulled and drawn and set to maintain a tough outer exterior, glared a determined stare through the ceiling.
But the epidural was worse.
Much, much . . .
So many sharp things.
. . . worse.
Dylan paced and paced and paced, feeling sick and anxious and freaked right the hell out.
"Mr. Massett, would you like to come back in now?"
And Dylan leapt to his feet, nearly falling over Will.
Will who allowed him to pass and then trailed along in his wake.
Secondary player to the ones who had created life and were now preparing to bring it into the world.
Emma Deocdy Massett was much changed by the turn of events.
Face wiped of tension, lay now still back against her pillows.
She turned her head and smiled dopily at her anxious husband and father.
"Heyyy, there's my boys."
Uhhh . . .
"Em?"
The only part of her that moved was her eyebrows, raising just a little.
"Yeah?"
Dylan glanced at Will serruptiously.
Barely registering the smile tugging at one corner of the bald man's mouth.
And then back to his wife.
"You okay?"
She nodded slowly, as if floating through water.
"Mmm hmm . . ."
Dylan reached for her hand and squeezed it gently, momentarily alarmed at the weak return.
Eyes darting back to Emma's face.
And then to the nurse.
"Is she okay?!"
The young blond woman half turned, fiddling with some equipment.
"Yes. Some patients experience drowsiness from the epidural."
Then she turned to Emma, uncovering her feet.
"Emma? Emma, can you wiggle your toes?"
Seeming with some effort, Dylan Massett's laboring wife nodded her head slowly.
"Mmm hmm . . ."
The nurse appeared to stifle a smile.
"Okay. Go ahead."
The frickin' warrior stared at her.
"I just did."
She had not moved.
The nurse did smile then.
"Okay, Emma. You're doing just fine."
She pinched Emma's big toe with the edge of her fingernails, hard enough to raise the veins in her arm.
"Did you feel that?"
"Feel what?"
Dylan, holding Emma's hand, trying not to laugh, leaned over and kissed the top of her head.
She blinked up at him, still smiling.
And then lolled her attention back to the medical attendant.
"Nurse," she questioned dreamily. "Am I still having contractions?"
Oh my god, Em, you are so high right now.
"Yes, actually, you're in the middle of a very strong one right now."
One gloved finger pointed to a monitor exhibiting spiking lines and an assortment of readouts.
Emma closed her eyes again and spoke in the same floating voice as before.
"Wow . . . that's amazing."
Then she opened her eyes again, searching for her husband who was still right next to her.
And her father, standing at the ready at the foot of her bed.
"Dylan, if anything happens to me . . ."
Oh god.
". . . I need you to know . . ."
Oh please don't do this right now, Em. I don't think-
". . . you have the best butt in the whole world, hey, Dad, and, Dylan, your penis-"
Oh my god, Em, stop-
". . . is just so incredible-"
Please stop-
Dylan tried to lovingly shush her . . .
Em, seriously-
. . . as Will's ears turned blood red, standing out in sharp relief against rest of his pale English flesh.
"What, this is stuff you need to know . . ."
She gifted Dylan a beautific expression of the right and truly drugged.
Before closing her eyes and drifting off into a semi-conscious state.
Will coughed pointedly.
"Well, now that we know what she's like on delivery sedatives, I think I'll take a walk to the hot beverage machine, Dylan."
They shared awkward smiles and then as Will took his leave, Dylan eased himself down into a hard plastic chair.
Wow, Emma. Just, wow.
And began to wait for the next phase of the Decody/Massett Baby Delivery of Impending Probable Possible Doom and Inebriated Confessional.
Or just the delivery of their first born child.
So Emma stoned on the pot cupcake was adorable and I thought she just might get a little too high initially on the epidural. I did anyway.
As for the induction, once again, research, so hopefully I didn't make any major faux pas.
Thanks to Lana Brown for reviewing! :D