Tim and Lucy went down pretty hard when they both caught the flu (or so they thought) - they'd been expecting this for a while after a bug made its way through the station but it still sucked. "I feel like death warmed over," Tim moaned. They had tried cuddling on the couch for a while but gave up once his fever proved it was a bad idea. Day two was shaping up to somehow be even worse than the first horrific day, and that was saying something.

"I hate this." Lucy wearily eyed the cooking pot in front of her, wondering how long she could get away with not needing to use it. Both of them were exhausted from their numerous trips to the bathroom and were thisclose to just giving in and forcing themselves to stay the next time.

"Tamara's going to be home soon, right? She's grabbing our medicine. Sweet, sweet flu medication." He fucking hated cold and flu medication with every fiber of his being - just as much as he hated getting sick - but at this point, he knew they urgently required it at this point.

She nodded, immediately regretting the action and wishing she could go back a few seconds to take it back. "She won't be home for a few more hours, though." Lucy groaned and proceeded to throw up into the pot once more. "Fucking hell." She was going to throw her back out at this rate - wait, did she have to worry about Tim? If she had the energy, she'd keep a closer eye on her husband to make sure he didn't.

Tim stole the pot off her and threw up again, scowling at the pot in revulsion. "You want to go live in the bathroom now?"

"I'm pretty tempted." They went and dumped the pot before heading to the bathroom to take up residence there for the time being. Tim leaned against the toilet lid, glaring at it in disgust while Lucy chose to sit against the tub. "Wait, why are we in the same bathroom? We have two."

"Moral support, Luce. Misery loves company, all that bullshit."

"Oh, right." She almost pushed Tim out of the way so she could steal the toilet for herself but instead turned, moved the shower curtain out of the way, and vomited in the tub instead. She washed it out afterwards and then turned back around, sliding down on the floor. "Fuck sitting up. The floor is my home now," Lucy declared.

"Right there with you," Tim agreed after he gagged and dry heaved into the toilet. "Fuck this shit."

"Fuck it to hell and back." She managed to right herself just a bit and crawled over to Tim, feeling the urge to hug him.

When Tamara arrived home from work and the pharmacy about three and a half hours later, she found them curled up in the bathroom. "Are you two really napping in the fucking bathroom?" She wrinkled her nose up in disgust. "Gross. Anyway, I'm here now to relieve you of your misery." Tamara handed the pharmacy bag over to Lucy, who started rifling through it.

"Thanks, Tam. You're our new God. We worship at your feet." Although she wasn't feeling it, Lucy flashed her a smile that was more like a grimace instead.

"Whatever you say." Tamara managed to help them both up and ushered Tim into the master bedroom after he downed some medicine. Fortunately, it didn't take too long to kick in and he fell asleep pretty quickly.

When he rejoined Lucy on the couch in the middle of the night - their sleeping patterns now fucked - he found her watching TV with the volume on low. "Hey. Tamara went to bed a few hours ago so I just found a movie. I can't sleep. How are you feeling?"

"Like a zombie. Still feel like death warmed over but I think the fever's starting to break. What about you?" Concerned, he felt her forehead and she batted his hand away with a laugh.

Lucy shrugged her shoulders. "Like hell. But it turns out I don't have the flu."

Confused, he could only gaze into her eyes. "What?"

She reached into her robe pocket and pulled something out. Suddenly nervous, she snorted. "My symptoms are different from yours, even though this hit us at the same time. I had Tamara pick me up something else at the pharmacy. She hid this in my purse instead of letting it stay with the rest of our shit." And then she handed over a positive pregnancy test.

Tim gasped, his hand flying to her stomach. "You're pregnant?"

"Morning sickness is the worst. Maybe even sucks more than the flu - jury's still out on that one," Lucy joked.

"I'd kiss you but I don't want to actually get you sick." He looked so crestfallen that Lucy kissed him anyway.

"I've already been exposed, Tim - it doesn't matter anyway at this point. But you're happy?"

"Happy doesn't even begin to cover it. I'm thrilled, baby. That's our kid in there."

Tamara's bedroom door opened and she wandered in, joining them on the couch. "I was too excited to sleep. And also possibly getting sick myself so thanks for that. Offering you my baby-sitting services now at a discounted rate," she teased.

Tim and Lucy both laughed, the former pulling both his girls in for a hug. He pressed kisses to their temples. "We're all in this together so sorry if I get you both sick." Tim couldn't help but fret over Lucy, worrying about her potentially dealing with both the flu and morning sickness at the same time.

"Eh, we'll be fine." Famous last words since Lucy paled and took off like a bat of hell towards the bathroom again.

Tim would have helped her - desperately wanted to - but his own nausea caught up to him so he bolted towards the kitchen sink.

"We're really in it now," Tamara mumbled to herself, sidestepping the kitchen so she could help Lucy.

Sure enough, Tamara did come down with the flu but Lucy somehow avoided it, something they were all thankful for. Tim recovered and did everything in his power to help Lucy with her morning sickness (and take care of Tamara, since he felt guilty for getting her sick in the first place). It wasn't all bad, though, especially since Lucy did her best to comfort Tamara too when she felt up to it. And much to their relief, the morning sickness came to a halt once Lucy was past the first trimester. They all couldn't wait for the newest Bradford to join them.