([identity profile] wrote in [community profile] cuddys_house2009-09-15 09:06 pm

afternoon, Monday, 14 May

Cuddy signed off on another report and neatly stacked it with the other paperwork on the corner of her desk. She was pleased with herself; she'd been extremely productive all day. She'd sorted through her email and cleared out all the outstanding notifications. She'd either finished or delegated every single file in her office. She'd even dusted the file cabinets. She wasn't quite sure why she'd dusted the cabinets but whatever--they were clean.

"Why are you here?"

She looked up. Wilson was standing just inside her office door, hands planted on his hips. She considered his question, then shook her head. "Because it's my office?"

He let an exasperated sigh and ambled toward her. "I thought you were going to take it easy. I though you were going to cut back on your hours." He threw a hand out at her. "You look like you're ready to pop. Give yourself a break."

"I'm sitting at a desk," she said with a shrug. "It's not exactly hard work."

"Go home."

Cuddy stared at Wilson as he actually came around the desk and started to shut down her computer. She slapped at his hand but he simply shrugged her aside. She started to reach for her phone but he turned and leaned over, resting his hands on the arms of her chair.

"Go home, Cuddy." He pushed her chair back a few inches, just enough so she couldn't reach anything on the desk. "You should be resting. Or keeping an eye on House. He's out there, you know--totally unsupervised."

"Fine," she said in a grudging tone. She wasn't actually opposed to going home. She had been working few hours for the last few weeks and, surprisingly, she didn't feel guilty about it. Her reluctance to leave was only because she felt like she was getting so much done today and she knew she was running out of time to get those things done. Wilson had a point, though. House was on his own when he should be with her. Since he'd come home, they'd been trying to make the most of their remaining days as a childless couple.

"How's he doing?" Wilson straightened up but he didn't move too far. He kept an eye on her as she reached for her cell phone.

"He went a little crazy the first day," she said, remembering House's crazy shopping spree with a grin. "But not too crazy." She reached out and gave Wilson's hand a reassuring squeeze. "He's in a relatively good mood. He's taking his meds. He's.... Honestly, he's the best I've seen him in months."

"Good," Wilson said quietly. He lifted their joined hands to his mouth and kissed the back of her hand, grinning at her. "Now go."

"Yeah, yeah." Cuddy waved him off as he walked toward the door. She flipped her phone open and dialed House's cell phone. It was only shortly after four and he wouldn't necessarily be sitting around waiting for her. She wanted to know where to meet up with him because realistically, once she stopped at either his place or hers, she'd be in for the night.

She leaned back in her chair as she waited for him to answer, her eyes searching out any other jobs waiting to be done. She'd just noticed Wilson standing on the other side of the door, watching her with a stern expression, when she heard House's voice.

"Hey," she said into the phone, a smile softening her face. "Where are you?"

[identity profile] 2009-09-16 03:34 am (UTC)(link)
House had stayed with Cuddy all through the weekend to Monday morning. It was the first weekend in a long while that they'd managed to get on without much more than squabbles over minor things. There'd been no explosive arguments, no huge fights that sent either of them bolting as fast as they could to the front door, no major unrest. It had been just the weekend House had needed, and Cuddy, too: relaxing, lazy, quiet.

By Sunday, all the balloons he'd bought had sank to around head height and it was only after Cuddy snapped about how annoying being heavily pregnant and wading through a sea of deflating balloons was that he pulled his socks up and got rid of the balloons. Of course, he didn't do it quietly or the sensible way. Instead, he'd gone around to each and every balloon, popping them with a pin until the entire living room floor was littered with shredded rubber.

Come Monday morning, after Cuddy had gone to work, House lazed around for a little while but decided around mid-morning to head over to his apartment. After lunch time, he was home with a mound of grocery shopping that he'd decided to do on a whim. He packed everything away, stocking his fridge and cupboards up, then busied himself with cleaning up his apartment. Once that was done, he went through the bags of stuff he and Cuddy had purchased ages ago and sorted everything out. He even cleared out a drawer in his room to stash the baby's clothes and he fiddled around with the cot to get the thing assembled.

At last, being he was on a roll, he decided to have a go at fitting the car seat into the backseat of his car. That, however, turned out to be a lot more fiddly than he originally thought. Getting the buckles and straps into place, trying to tighten everything... "Come on, you bastard," he muttered in annoyance as he tried for what felt like the hundredth time to tighten the straps that were supposed to hold the seat securely on the car seat. The hot May sun was only making the job more irritating. Just as he got the strap tightened finally, his cell phone rang.

"Hey," he answered, giving his slightly sweaty face a rub. "Outside my apartment, wrestling with the forces of evil baby safety equipment. This stuff isn't child proof. It's everybody proof. What moron decided it would be smart to design baby car seats to be impossible to actually put in your damn car?" He paused a moment, holding the phone to his ear as he leaned back into the car to jostle the straps again but as he went to stand back up, he thumped the back of his head hard against the top of the door frame.

He let out a yelp into the phone, followed by an aggravated bordering on enraged string of curse words as he stood on the curb, clutching the back of his throbbing head.

[identity profile] 2009-09-16 08:12 am (UTC)(link)
House just let out a whiny grunt to Cuddy's question if he was okay, scrubbing the back of his head where he'd hit it with his fingertips to massage the ache away. Then he dropped his arm to his side and looked down the street, an eye squinted shut against the afternoon sun's glare.

"Yeah, might as well," he replied. "Maybe you can help me find space for all the baby junk. Also, I bought food, so I can throw something together and burn it if you want."

He let out a mild snort at that. So far he'd managed to make meals without burning anything or setting anything on fire, but the day could possibly come where he would. That wasn't going to go in his favour with the kid. Then again, that was what frozen and tinned food was for - people who were either too lazy to cook or just couldn't cook, period. Maybe he'd find a way to rope Wilson into cooking for him, the nights the kid was at his place.

When Cuddy told him to hang on, he rubbed the back of his head again before he cradled the phone to his ear with his shoulder while he leaned back into the car to have another go at pulling one of the other straps. Stupid thing. He was ready to step back and kick the car seat with his foot out of annoyance when Cuddy returned to him.

He hesitated, though. He frowned slightly at what could have possibly interrupted her but at her second 'oh', his face dropped into a deadpan look and he rolled his eyes. She was playing a trick on him - she'd told him she would, after he panicked the last time he thought she'd gone into labour. Well, he wasn't going to be fooled twice.

"Oh, please. I'm not falling for the 'I'm in labour' gag again."

[identity profile] 2009-09-16 01:47 pm (UTC)(link)
House silently mimicked Cuddy starting to tell him she wasn't... whatever it was she claimed she wasn't doing. Yeah, right. She'd said before that she would wind him up over being in labour as 'practice' because it amused her. He'd told her not to cry 'contraction' because he certainly wasn't going to believe her the next time she deliberately pulled that stunt.

Hearing Wilson's voice in the background gave him pause, though. House could hear him asking if Cuddy was okay, Cuddy snapping back for him to be quiet, and then again when he said something about her face. He heaved an impatient sigh, rubbing the back of his throbbing head again, and he just replied with a disbelieving 'uh-huh' when she said it wasn't a joke.

"Yeah, of course it's not," he retorted. He heard Wilson say something else in the background that sounded like, "Let me talk to House," followed by something to do with paging obstetrics. House began frowning again. Wilson actually sounded urgent and Cuddy sounded... well, intent on shutting Wilson up. And a little urgent, too. A lot urgent.

His frowned deepened even more when he heard Wilson exclaim, "I'll make sure he gets his ass down here. You need to get your ass upstairs." House swallowed, suddenly thinking that this may not be as big a joke as he originally thought.

He fought to suppress a burst of nerves at the distinct possibility that Cuddy might actually be telling the truth. "You know, normally when the pipes in my place break, I call a plumber," he said to Cuddy when she returned her attention to him on the phone again.

[identity profile] 2009-09-16 03:59 pm (UTC)(link)
He opened his mouth to retort, only to hear the jostling sound of the phone being handed over to Wilson. That nervous feeling was getting harder and harder to suppress by the second. The more Cuddy refused to announce she was only joking, the more House was becoming aware that this really wasn't a joke.

He listened closely to the conversation between Wilson and Cuddy, glancing a little anxiously down one end of the street. So, what if this was the real deal? What if Cuddy's water had actually broken? House clenched jaw and then chewed on his bottom lip as his gaze grew absent with increasing unease. But it was too soon for the kid to writhe its way into the world. It wasn't due for around another week or so.

Just as he ran a nervous hand over his chin, he heard Cuddy's voice loud and clear in the phone again. A command for him to get her clothes and for him to go to the hospital. Okay, shit. She really wasn't joking. His stomach immediately seized up in a squirming coil of terror and he tried to swallow, only to find his breath had caught in his throat.

"O... okay," he replied quietly, absently, dumbfounded. Wilson's voice came loud and stern over the phone then, saying something about Cuddy or D-Day or some unintelligible garble that House couldn't make out because his ears had filled with a roaring white noise. His fight with the baby seat was forgotten. The dulling ache in the back of his head where he'd hit it had gone numb. His fingers and toes were tingling with the increase of his heart rate and his blood pressure. Fuck, fuck, fuck, shit, fuck, fuck, shit, shit, what the fuck do I do now, was all he could think.

He forced himself to snap out of his stupor and realised Wilson was still talking on the end of the phone. Clothes, he thought to himself. First thing to do was get Cuddy's clothes. And then... well, fuck. Clothes, he told himself again. Just focus on getting the clothes. Yes. That was inane and simple enough. Clothes now, panic later.

Pulling the phone from his ear, he snapped it shut on Wilson still talking and he moved right into action, sprint-limping up the steps into his apartment. Inside, everything turned into panic mode, House limping wildly around the apartment and stumbling over furniture and his own feet while he grabbed the things he needed. Somehow, he made it back out of his apartment without crashing into anything, falling over or breaking something and once he was in the car, he fumbled around with his keys, dropping them once on the floor and cursing frantically. Finally, key in the ignition, he gunned the engine to life and squealed out of the parking spot and onto the road.

[identity profile] 2009-09-16 03:59 pm (UTC)(link)
He made it to Cuddy's place in record time, which meant he'd gone way over the speed limit the whole way there. He knew where the overnight bag was that Cuddy had mentioned on the phone but when he was inside her house, he was rushing around cluelessly, his heart in his throat and his mouth dry. He found said bag in her bedroom and limp-skipped as fast he could back out the door.

The drive to the hospital was as fast as his trip to Cuddy's place had been, his hands gripping the wheel tight enough for his knuckles to pale out and his eyes wide and panic-stricken. His thoughts were a jumble of incoherencies, of Cuddy and the baby and everything related to both overlapping like waves being tossed around in a fierce storm. He made it to the hospital with only two near misses but no actual accidents. He parked on an angle in his parking space, grabbed Cuddy's bag and walked as fast as his bum leg would allow to the entrance.

When he reached the elevator, he pressed the button repeatedly until the doors opened. He attempted to draw in a calming breath but ended up rubbing a hand over his face frantically, only to discover he was bathed in sweat. He mopped his brow and his hairline with the hem of his shirt, then felt his stomach twist up again in further fear when the elevator reached the L&D floor. He burst out of the elevator and immediately spotted Wilson loitering in the corridor outside one of the rooms.

"Wow, you actually showed up," he greeted as House rushed towards him, looking like he'd seen a ghost. The armpits on his shirt were damp with sweat, his hair was a mess from the amount of times he'd nervously ran his hands through it and his face was glistening with perspiration. "I was wondering if I was going to have to bring the ropes and muzzles in order to drag you here myself."

"Cuddy in there?" he asked, nodding to the door. He hadn't really heard anything Wilson had said. He was too focused on what kind of terror lay lurking behind the door. At Wilson's affirmation, House shoved through the door and jerked to a stop once he was in the room, staring wide and wild-eyed at Cuddy.

[identity profile] 2009-09-16 08:40 pm (UTC)(link)
House had hoped that when he burst into the room, he'd be met with Cuddy not in labour but rather snickering in amusement at him getting punk'd again. But no. He was far from punk'd - Cuddy was on the bed, strapped up to a foetal monitor and he could hear the galloping sound of the kid's heartbeat. Maybe he was dreaming, he decided. Maybe if he'd pinch himself hard enough, he'd wake up in his apartment and realise this was just a vivid dream.

But again, no. This was definitely very, very real. He was in such a stunned state that he didn't register Cuddy's question at first. His mind was going at a hundred miles an hour, about the same rate his heart was currently beating.

"Not enough," he answered. He looked over his shoulder to the door that had closed behind him, then back at Cuddy and he approached her in slow, almost cautious steps as though afraid if he got too close, something would come bursting out of her stomach to attach itself to his face. Reaching the side of the bed, he set her bag down and then stood and stared at her some more.

Nothing was actually happening, besides the sound of the baby's heartbeat and the small contractions the foetal monitor was picking up. It was a perfectly boring, typical early labour situation. Technically, he should already be bored out of his brain because nothing interesting was happening. Except something very interesting - 'interesting' meaning terrifying - was happening and that was he was facing official fatherhood in a matter of hours.

So, now what? Stand by the bed, looking stupid? "Nice outfit," he said as he gestured to her ugly hospital gown, grasping at anything to say.

[identity profile] 2009-09-16 10:39 pm (UTC)(link)
"Very hospital-grade avant garde," he remarked. It was a hospital gown, for christ's sake. He'd been treating patients in hospital gowns for the last twenty-odd years. Her hospital gown was also the only thing he could think to comment on because the whole situation was just too surreal.

Again, nothing was even happening. Maybe he'd calm down once nothing happening continued to not happen. But until then, he was still in shock mode. And that was ridiculous, he knew, because he'd had almost nine months to prepare for this. Except he felt anything but prepared right now.

Reluctantly, he let Cuddy pull him to the bed and he sat on the edge with a still somewhat cautious look on his face. "I'm not freaking out," he countered indignantly. "I'm just... I wasn't expecting this."

Even so, he quietly drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, then gave Cuddy's hand a squeeze. She was right - she needed to stay calm. And so did he. Moving his other hand to hers, he clutched her hand in both of his for a moment before he lifted his hand to her arm and gave it a rub. "How're you feeling?"

[identity profile] 2009-09-16 11:45 pm (UTC)(link)
Yeah, the calm before the storm. That eerily silent, ominous phase where everything is too eerily silent and ominous before the storm suddenly touches down in a huge, destructive tornado and throws everything into chaos. Except in Cuddy's case, the tornado was going to come blitzkrieging its way out of her vagina. Yeah, the calm of the storm, all right.

It was on the tip of his tongue to actually say all of that aloud. For once, he knew better not to. It was only early stages but that didn't mean Cuddy wouldn't lauch into attack mode if he twisted her knobs the wrong way. He was beginning to calm down a little now, anyway, seeing that everything was reasonably - deceivingly - docile. It was just Cuddy strapped to a foetal monitor. No biggie.

He could get through this, he thought to himself. Yeah, he would take it step at a time, everything would be routine, the mogwai would emerge from within a deluge of uterine goop, cue end of final act. Yeah, he could definitely do this. He was a doctor, after all. It wasn't like he didn't have a clue what was going on.

The quick internal pep talk helped even more to soothe his nerves until Cuddy said she'd felt a contraction. That was naturally to be expected but that didn't stop his nerves from jumping a few amps. He craned his neck to look at the reading, at the small but steady rise and fall of Cuddy's contraction. Each contraction was one contraction closer to meeting this kid, he thought to himself. He swallowed back a flutter of nerves.

"Better you than me," he said as he sat back and looked at Cuddy. He chewed his lip, then looked down at their joined hands before lifting them to kiss the back of hers.
Edited 2009-09-16 23:47 (UTC)

[identity profile] 2009-09-17 02:38 am (UTC)(link)
Actually, he wasn't sure who was better off. Cuddy wasn't going to have it easy, but he wasn't going to have it any easier. He was going to have to endure it with Cuddy, every agonising grunt and every excruciating contraction. It was going to be a long, long night.

Hearing the knock, he looked over his shoulder at the door and eyed Patil as she strode into the room. Well, this was one area he could help: watching Patil like a hawk and criticising each and every move she made. Yes, Cuddy had made him promise to let Patil do her job but that didn't mean he wasn't going to give his input, regardless whether it would be welcomed or not. If anything, it would take the focus off his own nervousness to put all the criticism onto her. He just continued to eye her when Patil nodded at him.

Thing was, for the moment he couldn't really find anything to fault Patil on. She was quick, efficient and annoyingly cheerful about the whole thing. "You make pain sound like something to look forward to," he chimed in sarcastically when she told Cuddy about getting into a regular pattern of contractions.

Patil appeared to ignore him and he stood from the bed with a roll of his eyes before Patil said about checking Cuddy's cervix. He took a seat on the chair beside the bed instead to give Cuddy room. "Careful. Her vagina bites," he told Patil.

Again, Patil seemed to ignore him for the most part. He grasped Cuddy's hand in his when she reached for him and he gave her hand a squeeze while Patil checked her cervix. He was a little surprised to hear Cuddy was already three centimetres. Actually, he wasn't surprised so much as he was rattled with another amp of nerves. Three centimetres down, seven to go, and those seven could come sooner than later, given Cuddy's membranes had already broken.

"And how's the dad doing?" Patil asked as she sat back and pulled the glove off.

"The dad's cervix is fully intact and closed, thanks for asking," he replied.

[identity profile] 2009-09-17 08:50 am (UTC)(link)
"Double dipping really isn't my kink," he replied to Patil's "offer". He knew what she'd meant when she asked him how he was. He knew how he was and he wasn't interested in discussing openly how his stomach and bowels were churning with nerves, or how he wished there was a pause button to this whole thing so he had more time to come to terms with what was happening. He'd barely been out of hospital a week; that had been a big enough, unsettling enough change. Now the wind was changing direction on him again faster than he could blink or say, 'oh shit'.

While Patil and Cuddy discussed the issue of dilation, House anxiously tapped his cane between his legs on the floor, jiggling a leg as well. Patil made sense and she was right, at least so far: everything was routine with Cuddy's labour and her labour probably would progress quicker due to her water breaking. Plus the fact she was already three centimetres dilated.

He glanced up at Patil when she addressed him and he raised his brows. He'd object to her instructions on pure principle of not wanting anyone to tell him what to do, but again she was right. Walking would or could help speed up Cuddy's labour.

"Really? Wow, I never learned that in medical school," he replied sarcastically to Patil explaining to him the benefit of Cuddy walking. He shifted the chair out of the way to give Patil room to remove the foetal monitoring equipment from Cuddy. Then Patil was gone after saying she'd return in a little while to check on Cuddy's progress. Now alone in the room with her, House turned to Cuddy and sighed.

"So, I guess this is the part where the fun really begins," he said. He licked his lips as he assessed the situation. So many feelings were sommersaulting through him, everything from stone cold fear to nerves, to something that almost resembled a cautious kind of excitement. Each feeling kept coming and going like a radio frequency going in and out of transmission. Right now he was feeling... any one of those three emotions. He wasn't really sure which. Whichever feeling it was, it was causing his palms to keep perspiring.

"Well," he continued as he pushed himself up from the seat. He rested his cane against the edge of the bed and stooped down for her bag. "What do you want to do first? Unpack this stuff so you're settled?" He dumped the bag on the bed beside her. "Or go for a walk?"

[identity profile] 2009-09-17 10:11 pm (UTC)(link)
While Cuddy got her robe on, House reached for his cane and spotted out of the corner of his eye something dark on his t-shirt. He stopped to look down at it and realised his shirt was soaked at the armpits with sweat. Well, perfect. By the time that dried, he was going to stink. Or it was highly likely it wouldn't dry - it was likely he'd excrete his weight in nervous sweat over the next however many hours it was going to take for Cuddy to give birth.

Sweat was the least of his damn worries, he thought to himself as he noticed Cuddy tensing slightly under another contraction. He swallowed and licked his dry lips, then relaxed with a small rush of relief when the contraction ended, reaching behind Cuddy for the robe to help her put her other arm in.

When she stood and leaned up to him for a kiss, he returned it gently and moved his arm around her as they embraced. He rubbed her back by her shoulder blades before lowering his hand down and rubbing the small of her back. Nervous and crapping his pants though he was, he was also glad he was here. He'd imagined all sorts of scenarios - some of them plain ridiculous, thanks to his over-active imagination - and in a lot of the scenarios he'd pictured himself not wanting to be there. After all, having kids had never been on his to-do list. But now that the moment had come and he was here, the thought of not wanting to be here hadn't crossed his mind. Though, he also wouldn't say no to a stiff drink or a hit of valium.

"Shall I race you?" he asked as he pulled back from Cuddy. "Whoever loses has to change the first diaper." He gave her a mild, somewhat crooked smirk before taking her hand. "Come on, then," he added, leading her to the door. He opened it and said as he guided her out into the hall, "Waddling time."

[identity profile] 2009-09-17 11:19 pm (UTC)(link)
"No," he answered with an annoyed realisation that he hadn't brought any of his stuff. His keys, his wallet - he'd brought those. But not the stuff he'd intended to bring in case he needed a distraction, like his gameboy.

He threw Cuddy a sidelong glance at her 'suggestions' and rolled his eyes. "That stuff's way too high-tech for me," he replied. Dropping the sarcasm, he added, "I forgot anything I was going to bring. Finding out that Thunderbirds are go while I was having a fight with a baby seat kind of caught me by surprise."

Now he was here, he wasn't sure he would actually make use of anything that he might have brought. So far, he was too tense and still on edge that Cuddy was in labour. However, he wouldn't mind a change of clothes and perhaps a quick shower - he could do that in about five minutes, in between Cuddy's contractions. But that meant having to leave her to get his clothes.

But then he thought: Wilson. He could recruit him to go fetching for his things. As he and Cuddy approached the nurses station, he pulled Cuddy to a stop for a moment and said to the nurse at the desk, "Call Dr. Wilson." He gave her Wilson's extension number, then continued, "Tell him it's urgent, that he needs to get here, stat."

[identity profile] 2009-09-18 12:34 am (UTC)(link)
"Left to go where?" House replied pointedly. He waved at the nurse to hurry up, though she looked more confused than willing to comply. He gave the nurse an impatient, prompting look and was about to tell her to get a move on with phoning Wilson when Cuddy clutched the counter.

All thoughts of getting his way was immediately pushed aside for the moment. Another small wave of panic gripped him, which he tried to suppress as he put his hand on Cuddy's back. It was just childbirth, something normal and completely routine, something that shouldn't make him feel out of his depth. But he felt way out of his depth.

He rubbed Cuddy's back, glancing around him a little self-consciously. But then he turned to Cuddy and leaned in close. At the same time, he ran his hand up her back and gently massaged her shoulder. "You okay?" he murmured by her ear. He ran his down to her lower back again and rubbed it.

As her contraction seemed to be nearing the end, he looked up at the clock on the wall. He hadn't checked the time when she had the contraction in her room. But no more than ten minutes had passed. He made a mental note of the time and decided to keep track of her contractions - how far apart they were coming and for how long. That would at least give him something to do.

"You're such an exhibitionist," he teased mildly when the contraction released its hold on Cuddy.

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