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After all that chaos earlier…
Late at night.
Adam finally gets a breather and heads to Monica's VIP maternity room. Before he even steps inside, a nurse scurries over and whispers, "They just settled down to rest."
"Just rest, right?"
Adam nods, but can't help tossing out an extra question, just to be sure.
The nurse giggles like she's in on some secret.
Adam shakes his head, chuckling to himself. Oh yeah, he forgot—Monica's not Rachel. No need to overthink it 😅.
"Keep an extra eye on them tonight, alright?" he says with a grin.
"No worries, Dr. Duncan!"
The nurse pats her chest confidently. "This is your bestie we're talking about, and she's carrying a little Adam! We've got the shifts all lined up—someone's always watching."
"Thanks," Adam replies. "Tell everyone I said thanks, too. Once little Adam's born, I'll treat you all to a proper celebration 🎉."
"Sweet! I'll spread the word!"
The nurse practically bounces with excitement. She knows Adam's "treats" are the real deal—good food, good fun. Last time, when Dr. Green's granddaughter was born, Adam had the gang at the old friends' bar hooked up with free nights for days. Every nurse and staffer got their turn to party after shifts, and there were even some nice little keepsake gifts to snag.
A guy this charming who throws around generosity like it's nothing? No wonder the nurses adore him. If Adam didn't keep dodging their fangirl vibes, they'd have started an official fan club ages ago.
Compare that to Mark Sloan and his anti-Mark nurse alliance—it's night and day.
Even without an "official" fan group, some die-hard fans have secretly formed a loose little crew behind the scenes. Adam's heard the rumors, but as long as it's not some big, formal thing, he's cool with it.
He's all about his skills, not the fandom life. Going full "celebrity doctor" would do more harm than good. Sure, letting a fan club pop up might make him tighter with the nurses—more support, more loyalty—but get too close, and it's a recipe for drama. If he didn't back them 100% later, they could turn on him.
Nurses and doctors, even management, are naturally at odds sometimes—different priorities, different fights. That big nurse strike last time? Exhibit A. Structural stuff like that's out of his hands, so he'd rather keep a safe distance from the start.
2:30 AM.
Adam's barely caught a nap when his pager buzzes. Seeing Monica's room number flash up, he bolts out of bed and races over.
"Dr. Duncan, her water broke!" a nurse calls out as soon as he arrives.
"Dr. Luna, how's it looking?"
Adam nods at the nurse, steps inside, and spots Dr. Luna from OB-GYN already there.
"Cervix is at 6 centimeters—she should deliver soon," Dr. Luna says after a quick check.
"Get Dr. Montgomery on standby," Adam tells the nurse, then flashes Dr. Luna an apologetic smile. "Better safe than sorry."
"Totally get it," Dr. Luna grins back. "I'd do the same."
"Monica, don't stress, okay?"
Adam steps up to her bedside, all calm and reassuring. "And you, Chandler—deep breaths. You both took those birthing classes, right? Plus, I'm here. No need to freak out."
"Huff!"
Chandler sucks in a huge breath and groans, "Those classes are why I'm freaking out!"
"Useless!" Monica snaps through a grimace, pain shooting through her.
"I thought we established that ages ago," Chandler quips, throwing in some self-deprecating flair.
"…"
Everyone just stares. Adam can't help but laugh—he's torn between crying and cracking up.
Chandler's "I'm useless, duh" face is giving off major future-Sheldon vibes, like when Sheldon uses Amy as a human shield and she's all, "Of course you're a coward, why am I surprised?"
"Alright, listen up," Adam says, taking charge. "At this pace, she'll deliver in a few hours. Chandler, go call Ross and the gang."
"On it!"
Chandler grabs the phone and starts rallying the troops.
In sitcom land, this is tradition—your best buds stick around for the big moments, cheering you on as life changes forever.
By the time the crew rolls in, Monica's already in full labor mode.
Dr. Montgomery's running the show, Dr. Luna's assisting, and Adam and Chandler are on either side of Monica, each holding a hand, keeping her steady and hyping her up. Adam's ready to jump in if needed.
Ross and the others wait outside the delivery room.
Unlike Rachel—who waited over a day and nearly had a nightmare delivery—Monica's tough as nails. Yeah, it's a screaming, gut-wrenching effort, but she powers through like a champ. Before long, little Adam's born, smooth as can be.
Dr. Montgomery wraps up the newborn and hands him to Chandler, who's just standing there, totally dazed.
"This… this is my son…"
Chandler cradles little Adam, staring down at him like he's in a trance.
Adam's already slid over to Chandler's side, hovering just in case. You can't be too careful—Chandler's got a track record of dropping stuff. Adam's not about to let Monica leap off the bed post-delivery to strangle her husband over a fumble 😬.
"Chandler, let me hold him," Monica says, catching her breath. She's sweaty, exhausted, but glowing with happiness.
"Our son—here you go!"
Chandler locks eyes with Monica, all tender and lovey-dovey, and hands over little Adam.
And then… it happens.
Maybe it's the nerves, but his foot slips, his grip falters, and the baby goes airborne.
"NO!!!"
Time slows to a crawl—bullet-time style. Monica's eyes pop wide, a scream tearing out of her. Chandler's face is pure panic.
But then—bam!—Adam's there, flashing between them like a superhero, snatching little Adam out of the air with rock-solid hands.
"Son of a—!"
Time snaps back. Monica sees Adam's got her boy safe and exhales hard, then whirls on Chandler, finger jabbing. "If you'd dropped my son, I'd have killed you!"
"Easy, easy," Adam cuts in, cradling little Adam and checking him over. "I'm his godfather—no way he's hitting the floor. Chandler didn't mean it. My dad used to drop us all the time growing up—don't get too worked up!"
"That's your family!" Monica shrieks, losing it. "I don't care! Nobody drops my son! Chandler, you butterfingers—you're benched! No holding him without my say-so!"
"…"
Chandler's on the verge of tears. He slaps his own thigh over and over, muttering, "Stupid hands! Why can't you do anything right?!"
He doesn't blame Monica for flipping out—he hates himself for screwing up too. Dropping a ball? A drink? Whatever, laugh it off. But his own precious son? Unforgivable 😭.
(End of chapter)